The van's interior was pitch dark, save for the occasional flicker of passing streetlights through the small cracks between the windows. The sound of tyres grinding against the asphalt was the only noise that filled the suffocating silence inside. An oppressive stillness filled the space as the van jolted down the road, rattling the four prisoners held in place by handcuffs, their bodies weary and stiff from the brutal events that had unfolded only minutes ago.

Nellie sat on one of the cold metal benches inside the van, her back pressed against the side wall. Her arms were secured behind her, wrists bound tight in handcuffs that felt like they were cutting into her skin with each movement. But the pain didn't register—not when her mind was still trapped in that one moment, the one that had shattered everything she thought she knew.

Bucky.

Her brother. Her Bucky. The man who had been lost to her for so long yet had now stood before her in a form so twisted, so far removed from the boy she had grown up with. The Winter Soldier. A weapon. No longer the brother she remembered.

Her throat felt dry, as if the words she wanted to scream were lodged deep inside, choking her. She couldn't wrap her mind around it. How could it be him? How could he be alive, yet so cold, so different? The questions swirled in her mind, clawing at her sanity.

But then, without warning, the memories came rushing back.

The cold, sterile walls of the place where she and Bucky had been held captive in 1943. She could see the whitewashed hallways stretching endlessly in front of her, the echo of footsteps that had never stopped following her. The metallic clink of chains. The unbearable silence, broken only by the sounds of experiments—the screams that filled the air like poison, the distant, haunting cries of men as they were tortured. Tortured him... Nellie couldn't see it at the time, trapped in her own room, but she could hear it. Bucky's cries echoed in her mind, fading in and out, warping like static on an old radio. She could feel her chest tighten with every scream, unsure if it was him or not... it was only made clear when Steve and herself rescued him.

Opposite her, Sam sat hunched, his expression just as grim. The exhaustion was etched on his face, but Nellie could see the storm of thoughts behind his eyes as well. His head was down, but his jaw was set tight, as though he was bracing for something—anything.

Natasha, fading out of consciousness, sat across from Nellie, her expression unreadable. She was visibly injured and blood was still seeping through her jacket where she had been shot. Her hands were bound in front of her now, the cuts and bruises from the battle barely registering in her mind compared to what had just happened. The revelation about Bucky, too, had shaken her deeply. She knew him but of course as the Winter Soldier only — but she also knew the pain Nellie and Steve felt every time Bucky's name came up.

And Steve... Steve was sitting beside her, slumped against the doors, his face pale and unreadable. His hands, too, were bound, but there was a rigidity to his posture, a quiet strength that held him together even in this darkest of moments. But she could feel the sorrow emanating from him. He was feeling it, too.

None of them spoke. The silence in the van was deafening, thick with the weight of everything that had happened.

Nellie's gaze flicked toward the agents seated on her right. They were dressed in the familiar black armour of Shield operatives, their helmets glossy and reflective, hiding any trace of humanity behind their faceless visors. The agent closest to Nellie shifted slightly, the cold, metallic tip of an un-electrified baton pressing lightly against her shoulder. A warning. As if she could even think of making a move when her entire world had just crumbled.

But Nellie didn't care. She didn't care about the baton. She didn't care about their capture. She barely registered the agents' presence at all. Her thoughts were consumed by one thing and one thing only: Bucky.

A part of her still couldn't believe it. When the mask had come off, when she had finally seen the man who had been the Winter Soldier in the flesh, it had felt like her entire world had been turned upside down. His face had been so cold, so distant, the eyes that had once been so full of warmth and light now hollow and unreadable. She had called his name, hoping—praying—that something, anything, would break through the icy shell he had become.

But all she had received was rejection. His words had cut deep, like a dagger to her heart.

"Who the hell is Bucky?"

The pain of it stung like fire, but she couldn't let herself cry. She couldn't let herself grieve. Not yet. She was numb, but not in the way she thought she would be. The numbness wasn't about shutting out the hurt; it was the stark, bitter realization that she didn't know how to get him back.

Nellie closed her eyes, trying to block out the thought of Bucky's icy gaze. Trying to think, to plan. They needed to escape. They needed to find a way out of this van, out of Hydra's grip. But even as the plan formed in her mind, it felt meaningless. How could they fight when one of the people they were fighting was family?

Then, Steve's voice broke the stillness, ragged and raw, barely more than a whisper. "He's alive. All this time... he's been alive."

The words hung in the air, reverberating through the cold, dim space. The weight of them suffocated the small van, and for a moment, it felt like the world had stopped spinning.

Natasha shook her head, her eyes distant as she tried to process the impossible. "It can't be."

But Steve didn't back down, his eyes fixed ahead, unfocused, his voice tight with emotion. "It was him. He looked right at us like he didn't even know us."

Sam, his brow furrowed in confusion, shifted uneasily beside them. "How's that even possible? It was like seventy years ago."

Nellie's chest tightened at Sam's words. She tried to breathe, but each breath felt heavier than the last. She could feel the pull of the memories, the ghosts of the past, trying to drag her back into the nightmare.

"Zola," she whispered, the word tasting like acid in her mouth. "When I was captured... when I was being tortured... Bucky was in a room down the hall. When they weren't working on me, they must have been working on him." Her voice faltered, her heart hammering in her chest as the weight of it all crashed down on her. "I could hear his screams. I thought... I thought he was being beaten. But whatever Zola did... it must've helped Bucky survive the fall. They must have found him and..."

Her throat tightened, the words slipping out like jagged pieces of glass. She couldn't finish. The thought of Bucky—her brother—being subjected to the same horrors she had endured was unbearable.

Natasha's voice cut through the haze of Nellie's guilt and self-blame, soft but firm. "None of that's your fault, Nellie."

But Nellie shook her head, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. The pain in her chest was a suffocating weight. "They used me to experiment on him," she whispered, her voice cracking with the force of her words. "It's my fault he is what he is. I let him..."

She stopped abruptly, the realization slamming into her like a physical blow. She was about to say "die", but she couldn't—couldn't bring herself to finish that sentence. Because he wasn't dead. He was alive. He had been alive all this time.

All that guilt she had carried for years, the guilt of letting him slip through her fingers, of not being able to protect him, all of it had been consuming her. She had hated herself for it. But now, with the truth in front of her, it felt like a crushing betrayal to even think it. He wasn't gone. He hadn't died. He was still there, somewhere deep inside the Winter Soldier, buried under layers of manipulation, pain, and memories that had been torn from him.

And yet, it was still her fault. She had been there, helpless, unable to stop them from doing this to him. The cold, sterile hallways. The experiments. The screams. Bucky.

She bit back a sob, trying to regain some semblance of control over herself, but it was a battle she was losing.

Steve's voice, soft but full of conviction, broke through the silence again, his words carrying the weight of everything he had ever known. "Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky, Nellie, and their family. He brought us together."

He paused for a moment, his gaze drifting toward Nellie. She could see the unspoken words in his eyes, the ache behind them, and the longing to reach out to her, to comfort her. But as his eyes flickered down to the electrified baton pressed against her side, he hesitated. He knew the risk. It wasn't worth it, not when their every move was being monitored so closely.

Nellie's heart ached, but she didn't pull away. She didn't feel the need to. His words, though, they settled into her chest like an anchor.

Steve continued, his voice gentle yet firm. "It's not your fault they tortured you, Nel, to experiment on others."

Nellie swallowed hard, trying to hold back the tide of emotion that threatened to overwhelm her once again. The pain she had carried for so long was heavy, but Steve's words—his constant belief in her—still managed to cut through the darkness. Even after everything, even after all the years of confusion, of loss, and of suffering, Steve had never wavered in his belief in her.

Steve's lips moved silently, the words I love you etched clearly in his gaze. Nellie's breath hitched as she saw it, her chest tightening. Without thinking, she mirrored his silent confession, mouthing the same words back to him. A tear slipped from her eye, rolling slowly down her cheek as the unspoken bond between them deepened. 

But then Sam's voice cut through the delicate silence, his eyes immediately flicking to Natasha, who was slumped against the van wall, the blood staining the fabric of her jacket increasing in volume. "We need to get a doctor here. We don't put pressure on that wound, she's gonna bleed out here in the truck."

Nellie's gaze darted to Natasha's injury, her stomach twisting in knots.

Suddenly, a crackling noise sliced through the tense air. The second guard, who had been sitting silently, pulled out their own electric baton, the electric crackle filling the space. The sound was enough to freeze Nellie in place. Her heart skipped a beat, and the memories rushed back in a flood—the searing agony of the Hydra electrocutions she had endured all those years ago. The sharp, unrelenting pain that had felt like it would never end.

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, trying to block out the memory. The sensation of the electric shock coursing through her body was so vivid, so real in her mind. She could almost feel it again; the terror it had brought her.

But then, to her shock, the guard didn't strike at Sam, as she had expected. Instead, the baton swung in the direction of the guard sitting next to Nellie. In a swift, practiced motion, the baton pressed into the guard's neck, a flash of blue light crackling briefly before the guard collapsed, unconscious.

Nellie blinked in disbelief as the guard fell to the floor of the van. The figure of the person who had neutralized him quickly became clear as they removed their helmet.

Maria Hill.

Nellie's breath caught. Maria let out a sharp breath, rubbing her temple as though trying to shake off the lingering effects of whatever mental strain she had just endured. "Ah. That thing was squeezing my brain," she muttered, her voice strained but steady.

Sam blinked at her, still trying to make sense of the situation, but his confusion deepened as Maria glanced around, her eyes landing on Steve and Nellie. "Who's this guy?" she asked, her voice casual as she gestured toward Sam, who still had no idea who she was or why she had just knocked out one of their captors.

Nellie and Steve exchanged a quick, silent glance, both feeling the weight lift slightly. Agent Hill—one of their most trusted allies—was here. There was a sense of relief, though the tension was still thick in the air. They were far from safe.

Steve quickly answered, his voice sharp and to the point, "That's Sam. He's with us, Maria. We'll explain later."

Without missing a beat, Maria nodded, already moving. She was a woman on a mission, and there wasn't time for pleasantries. "We don't have much time," she said, pulling a small, compact device from her belt. It looked like a combination of a laser and a cutting tool, something built for precision and speed.

With a quick motion, she set to work, placing the device against the floor of the van. The tool hummed to life, a bright light flashing where it touched the metal. She carved through it with practiced ease, her eyes focused on the task at hand.

Nellie shifted, her wrists still aching from the handcuffs, but she didn't dare move. They were so close now. The sound of the tool slicing through the floor was a welcome one—it meant they were getting out of here.

Steve's voice came next, low and steady. "When she says so, we jump. No second thoughts."

Maria paused just for a moment, her eyes flicking to the group as she worked. "Exactly. And no waiting around. When I give the signal, we move fast. I'll cover you as best I can, but we don't have time to explain everything now."

Nellie felt the pulse of adrenaline surge through her. They were almost there.

With one final press of the device, Maria stepped back, and a hole began to open in the metal floor of the van. It was big enough now for them to escape through.

"Ready?" Maria asked, looking up at Steve, who gave her a quick nod in return.

Sam, still in disbelief at the turn of events, looked from one person to the next, but there was no time for questions. Maria was already crouching by the hole, her posture taut with readiness.

"Go!" she barked, cutting through the silence with a sharp command. "Jump and don't look back."

Nellie was the first to move, dropping to her knees by the hole. She couldn't afford to waste a second—too much had happened, and they were still in danger. She leapt through the hole and hit the ground below, rolling to absorb the impact before pushing herself to her feet.

Steve followed next, his movements quick but controlled. Sam, though hesitant at first, followed, jumping down into the open space. Natasha, who had been sitting on the edge of exhaustion, managed to make her way to the hole with Maria hot on her heels.

Once they were all safely out of the van, Maria was the last to jump. She hit the ground hard but steady, immediately looking around to assess their surroundings.

"Move," Maria ordered, scanning the area for any immediate threats. "We're not safe yet. I'll explain more once we're out of the woods."

They didn't hesitate. As one, they ran, hearts pounding with urgency, the sound of their footsteps muffled in the early evening air. Maria removed their handcuffs and then led them towards an old, beat-up van and ushered them inside before she took her seat in the cab.

They drove for an hour in intense silence until the van rolled to a stop, the engine humming softly before cutting out completely. The doors creaked open, releasing a rush of cold, crisp evening air. It wasn't the deep quiet of night yet, but rather the stillness of the hour before darkness fully descended. The sky was a dusky blue, fading to a purple-black at the edges, the last slivers of sunlight dipping below the horizon.

The sounds of nature greeted them as soon as the van doors opened—crickets chirping in the distance, the rustling of leaves stirred by a light breeze, and the steady rush of water from a nearby river. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and pine, fresh and sharp, and the faint chill in the air made Nellie's skin prickle as she stepped out.

Maria didn't pause. She stood at the open doors of the van for a moment, scanning the surroundings, then turned to lead the way. The thick forest surrounding them seemed almost too perfect for hiding. Towering trees stretched up on every side, their branches swaying gently, blocking out the last remnants of the evening light.

Behind Maria stood an old stone building, its silhouette dark and imposing against the evening sky. The structure was clearly abandoned—cracked and weathered walls, windows boarded up, and ivy clinging to its surface, as if nature itself was slowly reclaiming it. It was a place forgotten by time, a place that now seemed like their only refuge.

Steve was the first to move, his steps deliberate as he climbed out of the van. He paused for a moment, his eyes scanning the dense forest around them. Satisfied they were still safe for the moment, he turned and helped Nellie down. She was slow, her legs stiff from the cramped confines of the van. Steve's steady hand guided her, grounding her amidst the confusion and tension swirling in her mind.

Once Nellie was on solid ground, Steve didn't hesitate. His eyes immediately found Natasha, and he moved quickly to her side. The agent was pale, her face drawn with exhaustion. Her breath came in shallow bursts, and she was visibly unsteady as Steve supported her weight.

Sam followed, looking back at the van with a mixture of disbelief and wariness. The scene before them—the abandoned building, the dense forest, the rushing river—felt surreal, like stepping into an unknown world. He kept his eyes on Natasha, worried she wouldn't make it much further. As Natasha swayed slightly, Sam moved in closer, offering his support. Natasha's eyes were distant, unfocused, but she leaned into him, trusting his strength to help her keep moving.

Maria ushered them forward, her voice quiet but firm as she glanced over her shoulder. She didn't explain much—just the occasional gesture, a quick look that told them all they needed to know: they had to keep moving, no questions, no hesitation. She was their guide, and right now, there was no time for explanations.

Nellie stayed close to Steve as they walked, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts. Her body was exhausted, aching, but her mind couldn't seem to settle. Bucky's face, his icy rejection, replayed over and over in her mind. Was he really gone? Was there any way to bring him back?

They reached the stone building's entrance, a large wooden door hanging ajar, revealing a dim interior. The air inside was colder, thick with dust and the musty scent of old stone. Their footsteps echoed faintly on the cracked stone floor as they stepped inside, the shadows of the building wrapping around them like a blanket. The place was abandoned, its walls crumbling with age, but it offered them shelter, at least for now.

Maria led them deeper into the bowels of the stone building, the air growing heavier and colder as they descended. The walls of the tunnel were damp, the floor uneven beneath their boots, and the faint, musty smell of old stone filled the air. Every step they took seemed to amplify the silence, the darkness pressing in from all sides.

Then, they heard it—a rapid, unmistakable sound of footsteps echoing down the tunnel, the noise bouncing off the narrow stone walls. It was fast, urgent, and growing louder by the second. The group tensed, their senses on high alert as they instinctively pressed closer together. Nellie's heart rate quickened, her pulse pounding in her ears. She couldn't see anything in the darkness, but the sound alone was enough to make her feel as if danger was closing in.

"What is this place?" Nellie whispered, her voice barely audible above the rhythmic pounding of the footsteps. She had to know—every instinct screamed that they were far from safe, and the situation was unravelling faster than she could process.

Maria didn't hesitate; her footsteps unflinching as she continued down the tunnel. "Hideout," she replied curtly, her tone leaving no room for further questions.

As the footsteps grew closer, the silhouette of a man appeared in the dark, his figure gradually becoming more defined as the group's eyes adjusted. He was tall, wearing a simple shirt and pants, his face unreadable in the dim light. A cold shiver ran through Nellie as they approached him, the tension in the air palpable. Her instincts screamed that this man was unknown, and there was something unsettling about his presence. The group instinctively slowed their pace, a shared nervousness taking root.

Maria, however, seemed undeterred. She moved towards the man without hesitation, a familiarity in her movements that was impossible to miss. The slight shift in her posture told them that this wasn't a stranger to her.

"GSW. She's lost at least a pint," Maria said, nodding towards Natasha as she stepped forward, making sure the group didn't stop moving. She urged them onward, pushing them through the shadows.

Sam glanced at Maria, his brow furrowing with concern. "Maybe two," he added grimly, his eyes darting between Natasha's pale face and the man.

The man didn't flinch. He didn't even acknowledge Sam's comment, his eyes fixed on Natasha, his face a mask of quiet focus. "Let me take her," he said, his voice low and commanding. Nellie's gaze shifted to him. He looked like he might be a doctor—at least that's what she assumed from his calm demeanour and the way he immediately focused on Natasha's injuries.

Maria's expression remained neutral as she nodded once. "She'll want to see him first," she said, her eyes flicking toward the man with a look that indicated they were not finished with their journey yet. Without pausing, Maria led the group further into the dark, their footsteps echoing in the confined space.

They navigated through more doors, passing a maze of narrow hallways and hidden rooms. The air seemed to shift again, warmer, with the soft hum of machines filling the silence. The rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor reached their ears, steady and insistent.

Finally, they reached a curtain, drawn tight and blocking their view. Maria didn't stop. She grabbed the edge of the fabric and pulled it back in one swift motion, revealing a bed within.

Nellie's breath caught in her throat.

There, lying in the bed, hooked up to various machines and surrounded by blinking lights, was Nick Fury. Alive. The sight of him sent a shockwave through the group. Steve's face twisted in disbelief, and Sam's jaw clenched in shock. Natasha's eyes widened, though her energy seemed too drained to fully process the shock. The shock was mirrored in Nellie's eyes as she stared at the man who was supposed to be dead. 

Nick Fury was awake, barely. His eye was open, but there was a glazed, distant quality to it, as though he was caught somewhere between consciousness and the abyss. The iconic eyepatch was still in place, but his usually imposing presence was diminished. He looked fragile, more so than Nellie had ever imagined. The blankets that covered him were thin but layered, yet they didn't hide the way his body seemed almost too still, too small. The powerful, intimidating Nick Fury—now confined to a hospital bed, wearing an expression that said he'd seen far too much.

His voice rasped as he spoke, and even in his weakened state, there was that unmistakable sharpness to it. "About damn time," he muttered, his words laced with dry humour that didn't quite reach his eyes. It was like he was trying to push through the pain with that familiar bravado, but it was clear it wasn't enough to mask the vulnerability of his condition.

Behind him, the doctor moved swiftly, pulling medical supplies from a table, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the room. He worked with precision as he tended to Natasha, his actions focused as though he had done this countless times. Yet, Nellie couldn't tear her gaze from Fury. Her stomach twisted in disbelief—another lie. Another deception.

Fury, though, seemed to take it all in stride, his voice cutting through the space as the doctor continued his work. "Lacerated spinal column, cracked sternum, shattered collarbone, perforated liver, one hell of a headache," he listed, his tone dry, even though the severity of his words didn't match the casual delivery.

The doctor raised an eyebrow at Fury's summary, but didn't miss a beat. "Don't forget your collapsed lung."

Fury gave a small, tired smirk. "Oh, let's not forget that. Otherwise, I'm good."

Natasha's sharp intake of breath caught their attention. Her eyes were wide as she tried to suppress the flood of emotions threatening to spill over. Her voice shook, almost betraying her composure. "They cut you open, your heart stopped."

Nick's eyes shifted to meet hers, and though there was pain in them, the old confidence that usually dominated his gaze was still there. "Tetrodotoxin B. Slows the pulse to one beat a minute," he explained, his tone matter-of-fact. "Banner developed it for stress. Didn't work so great for him, but we found a use for it."

Steve stepped forward, his jaw tense as he processed the information. "Why all the secrecy? Why not just tell us?"

Before Fury could respond, Nellie cut in sharply, her voice trembling with a mixture of anger and exhaustion. "I've had enough of secrets. No more lies, Nick. We need the truth."

Maria Hill, standing just behind them, sighed, but it wasn't the sound of someone unbothered. It was heavy, a weight that pressed on her shoulders as she met Fury's gaze. "Any attempt on the director's life had to look successful," she said quietly, almost as if explaining the impossible away.

Nick Fury's lips twitched at the corners as he glanced at her, the faintest hint of a smile ghosting over his face. "Can't kill you if you're already dead," he said, his voice laced with the same dry wit that had become his trademark over the years. "Besides, I wasn't sure who to trust."

Nellie's eyes flicked toward Natasha, noticing the way she stiffened at Fury's words. There was something unspoken in the air between them, something fragile that made her wonder just how much Natasha had known or how much of this had been kept from her too. 

Nellie's heart clenched at the sight, but she pushed it aside, knowing Natasha needed to focus on herself right now. "Natasha, why don't you go get fixed up? We'll come up with a plan when you're back."

Natasha nodded, her steps slow but determined as she left the room, following the doctor's lead. The door clicked shut behind her, leaving only the soft beeping of machines and the muffled sounds of the building in their wake.

As the air in the room shifted, the gravity of everything they had just uncovered seemed to settle over them all like a thick fog.

Maria's voice broke the tense silence, her tone practical, as if none of the weight of the revelations had quite settled on her shoulders. "Everyone should get cleaned up as best they can. Let's meet back here in ten." She gestured toward a narrow hallway that led off to the side. "Bathrooms are that way."

Steve, always the steady hand when the group faltered, stepped forward, his expression unreadable but his actions firm. He reached out for Nellie's hand, gently pulling her toward the exit. His grip was reassuring, but it didn't calm the storm swirling inside her. Nellie let him guide her away from the room, but her gaze lingered on Nick Fury, still lying in the bed, his frailty stark against the backdrop of the machines surrounding him.

Her stomach twisted with anger, her mind racing with questions that had no clear answers. The lies. All the lies. How many had there been, and for how long? Secrets had been spun around them, tangled and knotted so tight that Nellie wasn't sure where the truth began, and the deception ended. Fury's face—the man who had been an integral part of their lives for the last two years—was the symbol of it all. They'd all been kept in the dark.

Even now, she could feel the weight of it—an anger too deep for words, too heavy to carry on her own. She didn't understand why. She didn't understand how this had all been allowed to happen. They were supposed to be a team, bound by trust and shared purpose. But that trust had been shattered, and now, as she moved away from Fury's side, she felt more isolated than ever before.

Steve squeezed her hand, a gentle reminder that she wasn't alone. His voice, low and quiet, reached her ear. "It's not over yet, Nel. We'll get the answers. Together."

But for now, all she could feel was the gnawing frustration at the unanswered questions, the secrets she was still forced to carry.

They moved down the corridor, the lights flickering above them, the sounds of their footsteps echoing off the stone walls. Nellie fought to push away the questions in her mind, but they lingered, each one a weight she couldn't shake off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hello my lovelies...

Kind of a filler chapter... but did you guys like it?

Nellie and Steve's pain is so hard to write... I feel for them. 

Anyway, as always, comments and votes are appreciated. 

Love you all. 

Talia
🤍🤍🤍