#x ofc

John hadn’t taken his boots off.  He sat on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his thighs, fingers locked so tight his knuckles had turned white. His skin still tingled, like his veins were wired wrong. Like the echo of that moment was still reverberating inside him, trying to replay itself in every heartbeat.

He hadn’t told anyone.  Couldn’t. What would he even say?

Yeah, I found her hiding in the dark, terrified, lit up like a live fuse. She looked at me, and suddenly my whole damn body forgot how to think. I just… touched her. And then I couldn’t stop.

John clenched his jaw. Hard. The memory bit down on him.

He wasn’t that guy. He’d spent a lot of time proving he wasn’t., Even when things got violent, it had always been about control, his control. Discipline. Strength.  But whatever the hell had happened down there, it hadn’t been strength.  It had been… something else. Primal. Instinctual. Out of his hands from the second it started.

And God help him, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

The way she’d looked at him. Like she’d seen something in him. Like she’d known exactly what he needed.

That soft, dazed touch to his face. Her breath hitched. The way her whole body arched toward him like it was meant to fit there. She was drugged. Wired. Still amped from whatever the hell they did to her.

And you touched her like she was yours to take.

His hands curled tighter.

You didn’t take anything, he told himself. You stopped. She passed out. You pulled away.

The energy, whatever it was, had exploded out of her, tossed him like a ragdoll, and burned the breath from his lungs. He’d come to on the concrete, coughing blood, heart pounding like he’d run five miles. And there was only one thing he could think of.

Where is she? Is she breathing? Did I hurt her?

That was the worst part. Not the energy. Not the burn. The fear that whatever he was, whatever part of him that lit up when she touched him, might’ve broken her.

He hadn’t even asked her name. Now she was up in medbay. And he was sitting down here, heart still hammering, wondering what it meant that he wanted to go see her. That he wanted to feel it again. The weight. The pull. The way she’d made him forget all the noise.

You’re not that guy, he reminded himself again.

But when he finally lay down, boots still on, fists clenched tight… he dreamed of her fingers again. Reaching for him like he was the only thing that could steady the storm.

“So… nobody saw the EMP coming?” Bucky asked 

“The blast destroyed every bit of electronics within two miles,” Ava said.

“That’s not the kind of failure you get from a generator hiccup. Something killed the lights and everyone inside, but left one girl breathing.” Yelena huffed.

“Yeah. Her,” John said tightly.  He didn’t meet anyone’s eyes. He hadn’t since they got back. His jaw kept clenching as he tried to avoid the things he was feeling.

“And you found her alone?”  Ava asked.

“Yeah. Hiding in the sublevel supply crawl space. She… passed out when I tried to get her out.,” he said carefully.

“Passed out. Just like that?”  Yelena’s brow pinched in obvious skepticism.  John shrugged with too much force.

“You weren’t there. She was crashing hard from something. Sedatives, maybe. She was barely conscious.”

“Any idea why she was there?”

“Her energy signature was off the charts. I couldn’t get near her without feeling like I was going to phase out. Whatever she was doing there… someone was trying to build something. Or contain it.”  Ava said quietly.

Yelena flipped through the thin paper file in front of her.

“Those scientists didn’t just stumble into this. Somebody paid for it,” Bucky said certainly.

“Someone high up,”  Yelena said quietly.  They all knew who she meant.  Valentina.

“Alright, until we know more, she stays locked down. No interviews. No transfers. No exposure. She’s not a prisoner, but she’s not clear to leave either,”  Bucky said rubbing his hand down his face.

“What if she wakes up and is hostile?”  Ava asked seriously.

“We’ll deal with that then.  The guard rotates every six hours. She’s never alone. Not even for five minutes.”  Bucky said as he looked directly at John.  “You’re on first watch.”

John nodded stiffly as his eyes flickered toward the table edge.  “Yeah. Fine.”

“If she wakes up and panics… we need someone soft, not just armed,”  Yelena said as an afterthought.

“That’s you?” Ava teased.

“I’ve babysat bombs before.” Yelena tossed back at her.  Bucky raised his hand to calm the group.

“You three rotate. Eyes on her until we figure out what they did to her and what the hell she did to that building.”  The room fell silent.

The room was dim but calm. Soft beeping from vitals. A cold fluorescent hum. The world felt paused.  Ava wassitting in a rolling chair, boots propped up against the wall. She was chewing something, gum or maybe a toothpick, and scrolling through her phone.

“You lost again, or just sleepwalking?” She asks without looking up at Bob.  Bob doesn't look at her. His eyes stay on the girl, a young woman, still unconscious, hooked up to a monitor. Her wrists were free, but the cuffs lay on the counter like a quiet warning.

“I was gonna ask if you wanted a break.”  He says nervously.  Ava eyes him. Shrugs.

“Fine. But just for fifteen. You’re not babysitting, you’re just the warm body by the bed.” She said as she stood and slung her jacket back over her shoulders.  “Don’t talk to her. Don’t touch anything. If she twitches, call it in.”

“Right.”

There is silence after Ava leaves.  Bob stands still for a long minute, then sinks into the chair, arms crossed. He watched the steady rise and fall of her chest.

She jolts suddenly, gasping for air and coughing.  Bob’s on his feet in a second, startled.

Her fingers curled against the sheets, and her eyes flew open, wild and unfocused. The monitor beeps from an unseen surge. She yanked herself upright so fast the IV line jerked, and Bob instinctively moved forward to soothe her.

“Hey, hey! It’s okay! You're safe, you're not in danger.” He said quickly holding his hands up.

 “Where am I? Where- who-?” Her panicked questions tumble from her lips faster than she can think.

“My name’s Bob. You’re in a medical bay. With people who are trying to help you. You were unconscious.  We took you out of the facility.  What’s your name?”

“Lily,” she says like she is uncertain. “What facility?”  She’s breathing fast, looking around, defensive. She’s scared. Her hands are already pressing back against the mattress, ready to push off, ready to run.

“We found you alone. Do you remember anything?” He’s trying to keep calm for her, but a small panic is creeping up his back.  Just a little warning telling him to run.

“No. I—I was…”  She touched her temple. Winced.  “I don’t know what happened. Where are the doctors?”

“There were no survivors. You were the only one we found.” He explained before realizing he probably shouldn’t have.  It freezes her. Her eyes snap back up at him, wide with shock.

“You're lying.” She denies it if it could change things.

 “I’m not. Look, you don’t have to believe me. But I need to call the others. You’re not alone anymore, alright?”  Bob steps back, slowly, and presses the intercom panel beside the bed. Lily doesn't answer. She doesn't move either.

“She’s awake.” He said.  “I need the team down here. Now.”  There is a crackle of acknowledgment that comes through. Lily’s eyes haven’t left him.

“Who are you?” Her question isn’t asking what his name is.

“Just someone who didn’t want you waking up alone.” He said after a minute.  She doesn’t respond. Her hands fall back to her lap. Her body is stiff, defensive. Like she’s waiting for the catch.  Outside the medbay, footsteps are coming up fast.

Bucky enters first, sharp-eyed, scanning. His stance goes tight when he sees Lily sitting upright, wide awake, and clearly alert.  Behind him are Yelena, Ava, and Alexi. John follows behind the rest of them stepping in more slowly, expression unreadable.

“How long’s she been up?” Bucky asked looking over at Bob.

“Couple minutes. She’s stable. Alert. Not aggressive.” He adds the last like it will defuse the tension in the room.

“That can change real quick,”  Ava said before taking a calming breath. Lily tenses at the new faces. Her back presses to the headboard. She doesn’t speak.

 “You’re not a prisoner. You’re under observation until we know what happened to you—and what happened back at the facility,”  Bucky explains clearly.  He knows what it’s like to be confused and lost. 

“The facility… the power went out. I don’t remember anything after that.” Her voice is flat, measured, but not cold. It sounds like someone trying to sound stronger than they feel and Bob feels that pain echo through him.

“We didn't find anyone else. No survivors. The power grid was cooked like it had taken a direct hit. Like EMP-level.” Ava tried to explain.  Lily looks down at her hands. Her knuckles are scraped. Like she fought her way out of something.

 “You remember your name?” Alexi asked trying to provide some level of comfort.

“Lily Calder.” She hesitates. “I turned eighteen two weeks ago.” She adds quietly.  That sits heavy for a beat. It reframes the room. She’s barely more than a girl.

“Lily… you said the power just went out. Before the blackout, were you being held? Or were you there willingly?” Bucky asked

“I didn’t ask to be there.” She shook her head quickly but she didn’t elaborate. Her fingers pull at the edge of her shirt, twisting it. Everyone in the room registers that, Bob especially. His chest tightens.

“You remember what they were doing to you?” Yelena asked gently.

 “Some of it. Not all. They kept saying it wasn’t ready. That I wasn’t ready. They didn’t let me leave.”  She looks up suddenly emotion rolling off of her in waves.  “Did I kill them?”

The team goes still.

“We don’t know. No bodies were found intact. The facility was destroyed from the inside out. It could’ve been an overload. Containment breach. Could’ve been someone else.” It's the truth and he knows she needed to hear that.

“We’re not accusing you. But we do need to know what you’re capable of.” Ava responds firmly. 

“I don’t know what I am.” Lily blinks fast, trying to hold back tears.

“Then we’ll figure it out. Together.”  Bob says softly.  He’s not sure why he chose those words, but he feels better, calmer, after he says them and Lily looks more at ease.  Bucky gives him a small glance—curious but not reprimanding.

“No interrogations. No pressure.” He says that to her.  “She stays in med until we’re sure her vitals are stable and she’s not a threat, to herself or anyone else. We keep the rotation. Someone with her at all times.” The rest is for the team.

“Like guarding a bomb we don’t know how to disarm,” Alexi mutters as the team disperses from the room.

“Exactly,” Yelena says over her shoulder.

“You don’t have to talk unless you want to. But you’re safe here. That’s a promise.” Bucky says after a moment.  She nods slowly.

“Can I have water?”  She asked quietly.  Bob moved before anyone else. Reached the counter and passed her a paper cup without saying a word.

She looks at him like she’s trying to figure something out. “Thank you.”

“You want to explain what the hell she was doing in that place?” He asked breaking the silence.

“What do you expect me to say?” She laughs.

“I want you to tell me why a kid was wired into an underground lab that’s off the books and full of dead scientists.” His gaze is cold.

“The site was flagged for illegal research months ago. We sent a team to assess, your team, Barnes. If you’d gotten there earlier, maybe we’d be having a different conversation.” The obvious deflection lands flatly with him.

“Don’t play dumb with me. You funded that facility.” His hands move to rest on his hips.

“I oversee hundreds of budgets. That doesn’t mean I sign off on what lunatics do behind closed doors.”  She was getting defensive now.

“You knew she was there.”

“No. I didn’t.” Her smile finally slips.

“Then why are you so interested?” he asks hoping to corner her.

“Because we found a survivor. Because everyone else is dead. Because Bob Reynolds is pacing around the tower like his skin’s inside-out,” she motions to the monitor.  Bob hasn’t left the medlab since Lily woke up.  “And now we’ve got a girl in the medlab who set off an EMP large enough to knock out two miles of surveillance.”  She stands, smoothing her jacket.  “That’s not something I can ignore.”

“She’s not going back into a cage,” Bucky growled.

“No one said she was,” Valentina said loosely.

“Then what are you saying?” He was surprised by how things were going.  Valentina stops at the door. She turns her head just slightly, just enough to glance at him over her shoulder.

“Keep Bob away from her.”

“Why?” Bucky asked, frowning.

Her expression doesn’t change. “No reason.” She shrugged before exiting the building without another word.

Bucky remains, jaw tight, staring at the closed door with the creeping feeling that something has just shifted beneath his feet.

Valentina stood at the front of the room, black leather gloves folded in her hand.  It was 4 am and she needed to get this makeshift team moving.  She looked around the table, eyes moving from one of her operatives to the next.

“Three hours ago, an EMP pulse hit a deep-black assets site, codename Asterion. This was not an accident. And it wasn’t a malfunction. It was a full-system wipe—communications, internal power, surveillance, bio-monitors, fail-safes—all dead in the water.”  She clicked a remote, and a satellite image flickered onto the screen behind her: a blank, shadowed silhouette of the facility.  “We’ve had no contact since the pulse. No distress calls. No heat signatures.”

She turned to face them directly now, eyes sharper.  “Your orders are simple: infiltrate, assess, and contain. I want eyes on that site and a full inventory of any remaining research, tech, or bodies. Anything that breathes or bleeds—you bring it back.” 

"What kind of tech are we expecting? Biochemical, mechanical, psionic?" Ava’s brow tightened.

"Classified. That’s why you’re bringing it back." Valentina sighed as she responded.

"So… ghosts or monsters. Great."  Alexi shifted in his seat with a low grunt, unimpressed.

"Or worse. Don’t be sentimental. If it moves and shouldn’t, you put it down." Valentina instructed.

"No heat signatures could mean mass casualties. Or a containment failure." Yelena tilted her head slightly, voice dry.

 “You’re to proceed under blackout protocol—no broadcasts, no trackers, no questions. What happened inside G9 stays between us.”

She paused debating how to say what she wanted.  “Reynolds will remain at the Watchtower. He’s not stable enough for field deployment. You don’t need a bomb you can’t control.”  Valentina circled the room once, slowly.

"He’ll want to know why." John shifted, a flicker of frustration behind his steady expression.

"He doesn’t need to." Her tone dipped a degree colder.  “There is no confirmed threat—yet. But the last time this much tech went dark, it was because someone inside wanted it that way. Assume hostile conditions.”  She stopped beside Bucky.

“Barnes, you’ve got tactical lead. Belova, you’re interior advance. Ghost, perimeter defense. Walker, recon. Alexi… break things if they get in the way.”  And then, with a tight smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “You lift off in twenty. Burn it down if you have to. But bring me answers.”

The air in the sub-basement is colder than the rest of the facility. Concrete walls drip with condensation, lit only by the erratic strobing of flickering overheads. John steps carefully, flashlight cutting through the thick dark like a blade. He’s not afraid, but his instincts are screaming that something about this place is deeply, fundamentally wrong.

Not an ambush. Not an enemy. Just something watching.

The silence is unnatural. No hum of backup generators. No mechanical purr. Just the sound of his boots, his breath, and his pulse hammering in his ears.  Then he sees it.  Movement.

Just a flicker in the periphery. He lifts his pistol, aiming it with practiced calm.

“Show yourself,” he warned, voice low.

Another shuffle, softer this time.

He rounds the corner into what looks like a makeshift testing chamber—metal furniture overturned, smashed monitors, streaks of dried fluids he doesn’t want to identify. And then—

She’s there. Barefoot, crouched in the shadows. A young woman.

Her hair is tangled and hanging in her face. Her skin is streaked with grime and something that might’ve once been blood. Her gown is torn in several places, stained, and clinging to her frame like she’s been soaked and dried a dozen times.  Small nicks and bruises littered her skin.  Her eyes meet his, wide and glassy, lit faintly with fear.

“Jesus…” John lowered his weapon slightly, taken off guard by how fragile she looked.  “You alright?” he asked, cautiously stepping forward. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I’m with a team, we’re here to help.”

The room hums—so faintly at first he thinks it’s in his head. Then his boots scuff the floor and it responds. The concrete almost vibrates underfoot. Energy is building in the walls.  He approaches her cautiously.  Then, like a magnet snapping into place—her body leans toward him. The hum deepens. He feels it in his bones now. His chest tightens. His cock twitches.

It hits him fast. Heat. Urgency. A pull just under the skin, like his body’s betraying him, responding to something he doesn't understand. Every inch of him drawn forward like he’s stepped too close to a current and can't pull back.

She reaches for him—and something inside him breaks.

Everything else, the mission, the team, the danger, the rules, vanish under the wave of need. His hand is on her before he realizes it. Her breath hitches, and the feeling redoubles.

It’s not like before, not with anyone.  It’s euphoria on a cellular level, addictive in its simplicity: take, give, feel, repeat.

He loses himself. She wraps around him like instinct.

He doesn’t even realize she is passing out until he feels the energy snap suddenly, violently, and he's thrown backward across the room, slamming against a steel support beam with bone-rattling force.  His vision goes white.

Then black.

John comes to with a coppery taste in his mouth. His ears are ringing. The overhead light above him swings in a lazy arc, dropping glass fragments on the ground.

He sits up slowly.  Everything aches, but it’s his neck that throbs the worst. He reaches up, hissing through clenched teeth when his fingers brush charred skin near his collarbone. Burned. His hands are still shaking.

Across the room, the woman lies unconscious. Breathing shallow, but steady. Her fingers twitch faintly, as if still trying to hold onto something just out of reach. He watches her, chest heaving, and something heavy twists in his gut.

He should report it. He should call it in right now.

“Barnes. Got a survivor. Sub-basement four. She’s stable-ish. Moving to extract on foot. There’s structural damage, and no clear path.” John said in a strained voice.

“Copy that. We’re closing in from above. Sit tight, we’ll meet halfway.”  Bucky replied.

John doesn’t wait.  He approaches her slowly, checking her pulse again. Then, without a word, he scoops her into his arms.  The hum is gone now, but the memory of it buzzes under his skin.  By the time he reaches the upper levels, the others are just coming in.

Yelena spots the limp in his step.  “What happened to you?” she asked frowning.

“The ceiling collapsed. Caught the edge.” John replied, tight-lipped.

Back at the Watchtower, Valentina reviews his bodycam feed. There’s a clean gap in the footage. A four-minute window where nothing was recorded, only static. She says nothing.  John doesn’t volunteer details. Not to Valentina. Not to the team.  He buries the memory somewhere deep.  Tells himself it was just adrenaline. Just instinct.