Chapter Ten;

Delaney coughed, gasping to draw air into her lungs. Everything around her was dark. She blinked, trying to see through the thick layer of dust in the air, but it was impossible. Everything was darkness and dust; at that moment, it was like those two things were all the world was made of. Even her nostrils filled with dust and the scent of burning when she inhaled.

Then the debris shifted, and there was light. Delaney gasped and sucked in a lungful of fresh air.

"Delaney!" She turned, blinking in the sudden light. Momentarily the world was a red blur; she squinted, and soon the world settled itself as she saw Steve's face hovering inches from her own against a backdrop of ruins and smoke and small fires. 

Steve pushed the rest of the debris covering them. He bent over her, searching her body worriedly for any sign of injury. "Lane, are you okay?"

"Mostly," she croaked. Her voice was raspy. She became aware of a dull throb in her head. She touched her cheek and bit her lip as her fingers came away, blood on them. Trying to distract herself she searched frantically for signs of Natasha. "How's Nat?"

"Knocked out. I got her."

Delaney bit her lip when she saw Natasha limp, but told herself not to worry. Steve hoisted Nat up as Delaney clambered to her feet. She knew they didn't have long – surely there'd be a search to see if they'd survived.

Delaney stumbled after Steve as they made their way through the debris. She swallowed as she saw lights flashing through the dark, and the hum of aircraft. They're serious about catching us.

"We have to hurry," Steve breathed. Delaney nodded and together, they moved as fast as they dared through the old camp and to the car, where they could speed once more to safety.

+++

The journey back started in silence. Steve drove while Delaney sat in the backseat, tending to Natasha. Her friend didn't appear to be terribly injured – the worst of her injury appeared to be her unconsciousness.

Delaney mopped up some of the blood with the sleeve of her jacket. She didn't particularly mind; she had a spare jumper in her bag if necessary. 

It was strange, Delaney thought, taking care of Natasha like this. Natasha had always been the one taking care of her. She and Clint had been like older siblings, showing her the ropes, training her, staying by her side as injuries from training healed. Reversing it felt like paying Natasha back for everything she'd done over the years. Delaney hoped she'd have more chances like it; she didn't always want to be the one protected. She wanted to protect her friends as well.

"How's Natasha?" Steve asked after a while.

Delaney smiled grimly. "She's tough. It would take more than this to get the better of her." She rested a hand on top of her friend's forehead and removed several strands of hair that were stuck to her forehead by sweat.

Though she knew Natasha would be fine, though she enjoyed the chance to look out for her friend, she hoped Natasha would wake up soon. It almost scared Delaney to see her friend like this: it was a sight she hadn't seen before.

Steve glanced back, taking his eyes for a brief second.

"How are you?" he asked quietly.

"Me?" Delaney shrugged. "I'm fine. Bloody and tired, but okay." The worst injury appeared to be the scrape on her forehead; she suspected a small piece of debris was responsible for that. She'd already managed to staunch the bleeding.

"That's not what I meant."

Delaney frowned and opened her mouth – however, at that moment Steve suddenly pulled the car over.

"Steve," Delaney mumbled. "Keep driving. They're after us still, you know."

She was prevented from saying much more as Steve turned around in his seat. "Zola... I saw you. Whatever he was talking about shook you." He looked at her as though agonised. "Are you okay, Lane?" His voice was quiet.

Delaney stiffened. Memories came flooding back, all at once. Edris. Mano del infierno. He knew. 

She'd been forced to confront her past, what she had been, by an enemy. She gripped the edge of her seat

"I don't know how he knew all of that," she croaked. "I didn't expect... The shock..."

Delaney shivered. She squeezed her eyes shut, but that only made things worse: memories of the place danced on her eyelids, like a movie screen. She gasped and her eyes flew open – they immediately fixated on her lap as she tried to push all the memories to the back corner of her mind.

There was a click, and suddenly a cold draft of air brushed against Delaney's exposed skin. Her head shot up to find the source. Without her knowing, Steve had left the driver's seat and walked to her side of the car.

"Can I squeeze in here?"

Delaney gently shifted over, careful to give Natasha to space she needed. Steve took his place beside her. His hand covered her own, which had been resting on her lap.

"No matter what happened in your past, you're one of us now," he said, in all seriousness. "We have your back."

Delaney met Steve's clear blue eyes. She was momentarily lost in them. Now she looked up close, there was so much to his eyes. There were flecks of green in them, she realised, which only made them more interesting. Eyes, she thought, could reveal a lot about a person – and Steve's revealed everything. His concern for her. His compassion. His gentle soul, and his iron-clad determination to fight what he believed in.

He was the type of person you could look at and know you could trust. You could tell him your secrets and know that they would be kept. You could ask for help and he would not think you incompetent. He would just be there, and do what needed to be done.

Steve Rogers was the type of person you could open up to.

"I know," Delaney said. "And... that makes me think that I owe you the truth."

Steve went still. "Lane, you don't have to -"

"I do," Delaney insisted; she raised her voice to cut over his worry, to assert that she was sure. She managed a small smile. "I trust you, and I want to confide in you. Besides, you should know the truth. What we're up against. Why I disappeared."

Steve didn't say anything. Instead, he squeezed her hand. Inviting to go on, at her own pace. Delaney glanced at their hands, something warm spreading through her chest.

She remained in that position for a moment, thinking back to everything in her life, trying to find the best place to start. When she did, she cleared her throat.

"My entire life, I've been raised in isolation." Her mouth and throat were dry; despite her resolve to tell Steve, it was still difficult to divulge the past she'd kept hidden for years. "My parents... They had, to put it nicely, delusions of grandeur. Of taking over the world. They hated everything this world represented. So they brought together a group. Mino del infierno. Hell's Hand. And then, they had me. But not because they wanted a child. Because I was to be experimented on.

"From the moment of my conception, my parents were working with scientists and doctors, and after my birth as well. They worked on me, day and night, until I became what they wanted. Someone with a superior mind, who could take over the minds of others."

Delaney blanched as vague memories crossed her mind. Needles, injections, coloured liquid and the operating room. She used to wonder where her fear of needles had come from. That, she guessed, was the reason why.

"For that was how they planned to take over the world: they were going to use me. They'd use my powers – I'd infiltrate every place of importance, change allegiances, turn people against each other. They looked at me and saw a weapon, not their daughter. They did not love me, Delaney Esquivel – they loved Edris, the Greek goddess of chaos, their weapon. They loved what I could do, not who I was.

"For years I was brought up, honing my power, using it only to control. And my parents made me hate the world. I wanted to take over the world. I wanted the blood of my so-called enemies on my hands. I wanted to see the world burn." Delaney swallowed. She still remembered what it was like to relish in the idea of taking over the world, of killing. She hated herself when she remembered what she had been, what she had thought for. How could she have ever thought that was the right thing to do? How could her conscious have ever stood it?

She looked at Steve out of the corner of her eye – she was too afraid to look at him directly. Steve was one of her closest friends; if he looked at her now in revulsion, she didn't know how she could stomach it.

"Remember how I was so hostile the first time we met?" she asked in a whisper. "That was because my parents brought me up to hate you, what Captain America represented. It ended up in me developing a deep resentment and hatred of everything superheroes were. I might have forgotten everything by the time we met, but it didn't make me forget my gut instincts.

"When my parents were discovered, early, before any plan was ready to set into motion, I agreed to be knocked out and have my memories erased, left for S.H.I.E.L.D. to find. The plan was for me to earn everyone's trust and sympathy from being amnesiac and, when my parents were ready, they'd find me and return my memories. I'd then turn S.H.I.E.L.D. into a power base from the inside, and we could use their extensive resources. And after S.H.I.E.L.D., it would be the world." Delaney raised her hands and stared at them in revulsion. "All because I have these stupid, horrible powers."

She spat the last words out and laughed, hysterical.

"After Loki broke through my barriers as he used to sceptre to control my mind... Slowly all my memories returned. Everything made sense. And I felt sick at who I had been. And I knew what my parents wanted. I was putting you all in danger – they would want me to turn the Avengers against the world." She now looked at him, fury burning in her eyes – anger at who she had allowed her parents to shape her to be, anger at her parents, at her powers, at everything. "Can you imagine Bruce tearing down government buildings, Natasha and Clint assassinating world leaders all over the place, Tony forging weapons again to use against the world... Steve, can you imagine suddenly fighting to suppress freedom, which you had been trying to prevent all your life? Because that was what I would have done. It was what I used to want." 

Delaney closed her eyes and groaned, punching the seat in front of her – and she did it again, and again. Anything to relieve the horror and wrath inside her.

"Delaney!" Steve exclaimed, softly. When Delaney went to punch the seat again, her hand did not make contact – it was stopped midway there, caught in Steve's strong hold.

She froze there, limp, as empty as an emptied glass. All her substance had been dried up; leaving her empty and devoid of will.

"I had to leave," she whispered. Her voice broke. "I was putting you all in danger. I'm sorry. I'm so, so, sorry." She lowered from her head. "From the moment S.H.I.E.L.D. found me, I have been nothing but trouble."

"Delaney."

Delaney froze as two strong arms wrapped around her body, and she was being pulled into Steve's embrace. For a moment she was unresponsive and then she closed her eyes and allowed herself to lean into his warmth, and allowed herself to once again feel safe within his arms. She allowed herself to crumble, to let go for once and let herself be looked after.

"None of that was your fault," he said. "You had no choice. You were raised apart from the world, and indoctrinated from a young age, with no idea what was right and wrong other than what your parents told you your entire life – you had no other way to learn otherwise. Far out, you were experimented on as a baby!" His hold on her tightened. "Nothing you could have done would have stopped that. None of this is your fault. None of it! You're a victim, Delaney, taken advantage of.

"That person raised under the influence of your parents – that wasn't you. This is you. You're Delaney Esquivel. It's the choices you've made now that matter. You're not at fault. Your parents are."

Delaney's eyes filled with tears. "Steve -"

"You should have told us, Lane," he whispered. "We would've done everything to help. No one would have blamed you in the slightest."

"You don't think of me any differently?"

"Yes. This has shown me how brave and selfless you are." He pushed her back, both hands on her shoulders. He smiled. "I will help you through this, Lane. I won't let you be taken by your parents again. We will figure out how to combat them. And you will be free again."

Delaney choked on a sob. "Steve..."

Then her arms were around him, and she was hugging him close, overwhelmed with what he had just offered her. A tear fell from her eye, and she made no move to wipe it away.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice breaking. "So much."

He rubbed reassuring circles on her back. "I'm sorry you've had to carry this burden, Lane. From now on, can you tell everyone? We're the Avengers for a reason. I have you back. Natasha has your back – so does Clint, so does everybody. We work together."

Delaney chuckled. "I will," she said, and suddenly she felt lighter, like the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders. She was far from free, but she wasn't alone. She never had been.

"You don't know how much this means to me, Steve."