Maya

I manage to find my way out of the prison.

My throat hurts, my eyes are swollen, and I feel exhausted down to my very bones.

Bucky finds me on the steps with fresh tears rolling down my face.

I don't care if he sees me crying. I'm comfortable enough with Bucky to cry like a kid on the playground who got their favourite toy stolen from them.

He sighs, taking off his jacket and draping the garment around my shoulders. I'm already wearing a jacket but I don't say anything. I pull it around me tightly, trying to push the world away for a few more minutes.

Bucky sits down next to me. He doesn't say a word.

The silence is long but I feel comforted that I'm not alone.

I hate being alone.

I scrub my hands down my face, smearing my mascara across my cheeks. I must look psychotic.

"I told him not to do it," Bucky said, handing me a handkerchief. His initials were embroidered in the corner. "I told him we should've just let it go. He insisted. I'm sorry, Maya."

I laugh wetly, blowing out the snot from my nose. "It doesn't matter anymore, Bucky." I look away from the foot of the stairs that leads down below. "He's gone."

"I'm not sorry about that." I could see his Vibranium hand form a fist. "He had it too good."

He leaned back on his forearms, his legs stretched out in front of him. Bucky had cut his hair, keeping it in a short coif reminiscent of the 40's. I miss his old hair. Nat and I used to braid it when he would fall asleep after missions. Steve warned us to stop but did little to enforce that rule.

"Yeah," I said. "Me too."

___

Fury waits for me in his office.

He'll probably scold me again. It's not the first time and it won't be the last. A small, reckless part of me wonders just how far I can push his buttons before he kicks me out.

Bucky's jacket is folded over my arm. He was summoned away, leaving me alone with Fury.

Fury's office is always guarded. There's a group of guards that make 15-minute rotations and a state-of-the-art security system that will slice you to ribbons if you even think of trying to sneak into his office. A man like Fury knows too much.

The guards don't stop me as I turn the door handle and walk inside.

If the command centre is a burning inferno, then it's practically artic here.

Fury is in a conference with a council member, I can't see their face or recognize their voice. Us spy types are like that.

He gestures to me to sit down in the seat in front of his desk.

"Now, I'm well aware of their increasing aggression but I will not set a team in without verifying if they are still our allies or not," Fury stated to the council member. I knew from the ticking vein on his forehead he was about to unleash a fury of insults any moment now.

"You'll do well to remember that the Avengers can be affected by this too. Nobody on the council wants a repeat of the...incident."

I would've punched them through the screen based on their condescending tone alone.

"SHIELD doesn't operate under this." Fury snaps. "And it never will. My answer is no."

He jabs a button on the keyboard, ending the call without a care.

I lean back in my seat, arms crossed. "Rough day, huh?"

He gives me a baleful look. "Agent, don't test me."

Yeah. Definitely a shitty day all around.

His authoritative tone makes me sit up straight in my seat. Whatever witty remark lingers on the tip of my tongue shrivels up and dies.

He glances out the small window of his office, showing the sun rising over the mountain peaks. There are hardly any clouds. But the snow is plentiful, pure and prestige. Untouched by mankind and all their unspeakable evils.

"Did he say anything?"

I shake my head. "He gave very little information. It's just not the kind you're interested in but I don't have to tell you that do I?"

He sighs. "Barnes?"

"Barnes," I confirmed.

"I'm going to rip his arm off."

"Agent Romanoff would advise you against that, Sir."

"Agent Romanoff isn't here." He says sharply. "You are. Now would like to worsen my headache or would you rather get to the heart of this?"

Nothing gets past this man.

Nothing.

Fury may not have powers or abilities but he does know how to work, live, and breathe in the shadows of mankind. All that power over the superpowered. It's ironic really.

A dark thought enters my mind. What would happen if I killed him right now? That thought vanishes as quickly as it comes. As tepid my relationship with him is, I could never bring myself to kill him. Call it sentiment, call it whatever you will. I don't have the heart, matter in fact I think I lack it.

Mom would never forgive me.

"There's more of us," I blurt out. My hand tingles from where Raza's blood dripped onto me. I had scrubbed at the spot till the skin was red. "I thought I was the only one but I was wrong. That man likes surprises more than you and that's saying something."

Fury taps his fingers, eye solely focused on my face. "How many?"

There's no use lying. Fury already knows. He just wants confirmation.

I sigh, leaning my head back. "He said there's four. One is a girl and I don't know anything about the others."

"You believe him."

"I trust—sorry, trusted—that man as far I could throw him." I laugh at the absurdity of the situation. "But a dying man had no need to give up secrets unless he's truly desperate. And by the gods, Director, I think he was. Something was deeply wrong with him just before he took his last breath."

Fury bends down and pulls out a thick folder from one of the draws. He drops in onto the desk with a thud. It's thick, almost three to four fingers wide. Little red tabs stick out in between the pages and I could see where it turned yellow over time.

"There isn't any mention of other children, Agent. None." He said. "Only you since you were...busy." I wince at the subtle mention of my past. "The other two are now dead but they've been on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s radar before you even gained your powers."

I sigh loudly. Fury has a point. Raza would have no reason for this, his mind wasn't all there and he was practically a sneeze away from death.

I've seen corpses better than him on his deathbed.

"He..." I hesitate, refusing the urge to dig my nails into my skin. "He mentions that he hid her somewhere on this continent. His exact words were: 'Look northeast, where the red star shines the brightest. Under that, you will find her.' Cryptic till the end as usual."

Fury looked as confused as me. "That's bullshit."

"Yeah. No kidding, Sir."

___

Bucky is waiting for me outside the office door. He's dressed in all black from head to toe, his arm shining proudly with the Captain's star proudly on it. A young woman talks to him, jotting something down on her tablet.

She's cute. Short, elegantly dressed, with red hair in a bun, and soft brown eyes. Exactly his type.

I'm sure Sam is waiting for his chance to tease Bucky about this. Maybe he already had, knowing him.

Both of them look up as I approach.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," I say, looking between them.

The redhead woman shakes her head, smiling softly. "No. Of course not, Agent Crowley. I was just about to leave." She turns to Bucky. "Good luck on your mission, Mr Barnes."

"You can just call me James, Gail."

"Alright then, James."

She gives me one more smile before entering Fury's office. I wait till the door is closed behind her to turn on Bucky.

There's a grin on my face. "Anything you want to tell me, James?"

He frowns, crossing his arms. "No idea what you mean. You should go and get your eyes checked."

"Unfortunately for you, I have 20/20 vision."

"It's nothin'.  Just leave it." Bucky fiddled with the hilt of the army knife on his belt.

I roll my eyes. I would love to tease him further but Sam can take care of that for me. "Fine," I say. "No need to get touchy about it."

"I'm sorry."

I shrug. "It's fine."

He gives me a look. I'm not sure if it's pity. I hate pity more than anything. "You don't have to pretend. I know. I've been in wars for as long as I can remember. Neither of us are strangers to death. Theres no shame in feeling what you're feeling."

We walk away from Fury's office, towards the command center. "I'm happy that he's dead. I don't feel anything for that man other than resentment. S.H.I.E.L.D. can do as it pleases with his body for all I care."

"And the kids?"

I shake my head. "I don't even know if there are any kids. He could have just been spouting bullshit."

"Listen, cut the crap. I know you're going to do something crazy and go off on your own so just save it." Bucky places his metal hand on my shoulder, stopping me. "If you want, I'll come with you."

"Bucky—" I start but he cuts me off.

"What if they were real?" He asks. His eyes pin me down and I know that there's no escaping the truth in them. "What if he wasn't lying? Maya, could you live with yourself knowing that you didn't look further? These kids could be just like you."

Fuck.

Fuck.

I've always prided myself on getting through life alone. The Avengers changed that. Loki changed that until he couldn't anymore. My mother changed that when she chose to hold onto me despite pushing her away. I'm surrounded by people I love and people who love me.

But there's always this thing inside of me. I never could explain it, some sort of confusing and stinging twinge of dissatisfaction that always hit me.

This gift, this power, this fucking curse will be with me no matter what. I've learned to accept that part of myself.

I chose to forgive myself.

I'm the last one of my kind.

I chose to never have children. I refuse to pass this down. But now...just the thought that's there more like me.

More is me. More of us.

Alone. Scared. Afraid.

Just like me.

I had no guidance or kindness directed towards me as I came into my own. Only later on in life did I receive it. Mimi and Amid were unkind, their version of 'guiding' me was nothing but torture.

What if these children never got a chance?

But what if I'm wrong?

I don't dare to hope. Not anymore. Hope is a small and fragile thing, a glass house waiting to crash down once a stone on thrown at it.

Gods, I don't know if I can do this. Doubt and indecisiveness can kill you just as quickly as a bullet from an enemy's gun.

"Maya," Bucky calls my name softly, his hand tightening on my shoulder. "Listen, it was only a suggestion. You don't have to—"

"No," I said, shaking my head. "I think I know where we can start."