ELEVEN.
to the bone!

❝ at one time in her childhood there was a scream of sorrow that never came out ❞

⎯ liv ullman, changing

THE VOMIT TASTES of heartbreak and sin.

Reine tugs on the sleeve of her jacket, pulling up her wrist to cover her mouth, where the bitter tang of bile rests in the corners of her lips. Sleep tugs at her eyes, at her limbs, and she is reminded all too vividly of that same sickness when the Snap happened. A stone drops in her stomach, and a lump wells in her throat.

Like a wall building up inside her, brick by brick, achingly slow, the weight of it threatening to topple her over. Knowledge, something she's always craved, something she's always strived towards, now a wasteland inside her. How many days had she spent up reading English books under the covers, struggling with each sentence, tears staining the crinkled pages as she cursed herself. How many times had her mother, her sweet, flower-scented mother, whose hugs were like a wash of sunshine, whose neck was Reine's favourite place to nuzzle her head; how many times had she tried to comfort her?

Knowledge is not always power, hermosa, Mama would whisper into Reine's hair, caressing her back, gentle on the bruises that splayed across Reine's skin from her many scuffles and tumbles. Sometimes living with what you have is the only way to live. Now, as Reine thought back, she wondered what Marina had meant, why the words sounded more personal than her other musings. Her mother had come from Cuba when Reine was younger, taking whatever job she could find to keep them afloat. Her real father had abandoned her a month after mama found out she was pregnant. A tourist, Marina said when Reine asked, a white man who cared more about making his mark in the world than loving the people in it. Reine had often tried to imagine him. Tall, pale skin, and ugly. An evil, conniving man because she could not believe any handsome man would want to leave her beautiful mother.

After a while, she stopped reaching. Reine liked to pretend that she was no longer interested. That the topic was of no more use to her, but it was a lie. The ache to know still wrought inside her, it still kept her up at night, eyes wide and imagination running a little too wild. However, she knew what the questions were doing to mama, how they seemed to hurt a little more each time the topic was brought up.

And finally, when Marina came home one night with a strange long-haired man slung over her petite shoulders, the inquiries came to a sudden, crashing halt.

Bucky Barnes had saved the Castell family, just as much as they had saved him. It was the best and worst thing to ever happen to them.

Knowledge is not always power, Reine thinks, and I know too goddamn much.

They've been driving for what feels like hours.

The car is silent, save for the rusted thrum of the engine under Reine's feet. She's pushed her body up in as tight a ball as she can muster, head bouncing against the cool window. Outside, the day is cast all in grey, and the scenery whips past the window. They're in an industrial district of a town Reine doesn't know. She hasn't looked back since they left the garage.

Conflict sits heavy on her tongue at the sight of Helmut Zemo lounging in the front seat of the vehicle. Sam drives, all tense shoulders and sideways glances, Bucky in the back with her. Her stepfather keeps peeking over, waiting for Reine to look at him, but after what she has just done to help him, Reine can't bring herself to move.

Zemo is a bad man. Her mama taught her from a young age how to sort out the good from the evil, and Zemo is no exception. A terrorist, a killer, a conspirer obsessed with an organization run by Nazis. There is no redemption in his bones, no way to make herself feel any better about the decision she's just made.

Mama would be so disappointed.

Reine gulps, closing her eyes, enhanced muscles curling under her tan skin. It's as if she can feel the serum pulsing through her veins, a shot of adrenaline fire. Nails bite into the soft of her palms, and Reine sighs. She drowns in silence the rest of the way there.

When they arrive, it's at an ancient looking warehouse on an unsuspecting street corner. Reine shoves her hands in her pockets, trailing after the other three at a hesitant pace. The inside of the building is much more refined. The lights snap on, revealing sleek cement floors and fancy ring lights hanging above an array of vintage cars.

"I thought we already had a car." Reine remarks.

"Our first step is Grand Theft Auto?" Sam adds. His tone is still weary, clearly not over the fact that one of the most dangerous criminals in the world is walking free and taking them to a car show.

"These are mine." Zemo answers. "Collected by family over the generations." Freedom seems to take a liking to him. There's a skip in the man's step as he opens the trunk of one of the cars. While Bucky and Sam are busy staring around, Reine keeps her gaze firmly on the target. She won't let him out of her sight. If he tries anything, they both know what she's capable of, especially when angry.

"I spent years hunting people HYDRA recruited to recreate the serum. Because once it's out there, someone can create an army of people..." He continues, pulling out a bag from within another car. "like dear Reine."

She steps toward him, hands flying out of her pockets, eyes cutting into his skull like a hot blade. Bucky rushes towards her, giving Reine a warning glare. She doesn't care. Zemo steps back, and Reine smirks at his nervousness.

"Don't call me that." She hisses. "Or you'll be speaking through a toothless mouth."

"Reine." Bucky murmurs, but she doesn't seem to hear him. Her shoulders tense as Zemo smiles, actually grins, at her threat.

"Always so feisty." he mutters, as if he's speaking more to himself than to the others. "You would have made such an impressive soldier." At this, Bucky clenches his jaw. Zemo doesn't notice and leans back down to continue with his work.

Reine bares her teeth, but backs off, and Sam frowns.

"I ended the Winter Soldier program once before." The criminal continues, pulling the last bag from the car and grabbing the coat hung over the side door. "I have no intention to leave my work unfinished."

"Does that mean us, too?" Reine questions, and Bucky puts a hand on her shoulder. It's clear that whatever this man says, it cuts deep into his stepdaughter. Zemo has a way of bringing out the worst in people, and Reine is no exception.

Zemo smiles, but ignores her comment. "To do this, we'll have to scale a ladder of lowlifes."

"Well, join the party. We've already started." Sam speaks. Reine huffs a laugh at that.

"First stop is a woman named Selby." Zemo finishes, stalking past them. Reine bites her lip, a drop of red coming to the surface where her teeth dig in too hard. "Mid-level fence I still have a line on. From there, we climb."

He does not turn back, making his way over the exit at a lounging pace. The trio have no choice but to follow. Reine sticks close to Sam and Bucky's side, hoping Zemo can feel the burn of her glower into his back.

When they get out into the dim light of the parking lot, Reine whispers. "And from here, we fall."

✧

When living in Wakanda, Reine –a mess of boiling emotions and exuberant glee for everything chaotic– found a source of entertainment in hand-to-hand combat. A country of fastly advancing technology, led by a man of honour and home for her family, Reine would often find herself wandering out into the grass seas and neighbouring villages. When they had first arrived, and when Uncle T'Challa had allowed them to stay ("For as long as you need") Reine couldn't help feeling guilty. She knew how angry it made people for others to make themselves comfortable in their home, and thought the Wakandan's would feel the same.

After a couple months, however, that changed. It all started the day T'Challa and his chief of Security, Okoye, found Reine mindlessly throwing stones into a passing river. She'd spent the day helping out the villagers, arms burning with unshed adrenaline, sweat beading along her furrowed brow. She'd grown since the battle in Germany, and there was an urgency in the way she moved. Bucky was still gone, mind healing, her mother resting back at the hut. Reine was left alone.

So when Okoye had hoisted her up and shown her how to close her fist for a punch, Reine gladly relented. When T'Challa taught her how to use her size to her advantage, Reine grinned. When they taught her how to focus her anger into the fight, funnel the red in her vision into learning an opponent's skill, Reine at last felt she was home.

But what if her opponent was herself? How do you destroy someone you can never run away from?

"So all this time you've been rich?" Sam asks loudly, not trying to hide the disgust in his voice. From the garage Zemo directed them to a private air tarmac, and the four of them stand in front of the nicest aeroplane Reine has ever seen. Pristine white with gold lacing and a large body, she stands with hands in pockets, mouth hanging open.

Zemo has changed into something he thinks to be more tasteful: a full length black coat with a fur collar and purple undershirt, dress pants, and shiny black shoes. It appears that they don't know everything about the supervillain, that being he has more money than let on.

Reine's lips curl.

"I'm a Baron, Sam." Zemo replies. "My family was royalty until your friends destroyed my country."

"What's a Baron?" Reine asks.

"We are like royalty, to a lesser degree." Zemo explains.

"Snobs." Bucky mumbles under his breath. Reine smirks.

By the entrance to the plane, a pale old man, hunched and far past retirement age, greets them. Zemo speaks to him in what Reine assumes is Russian. As they talk, Reine catches the man's name: Oeznik. The old man smiles and seems genuinely pleased to see Zemo. They hug and kiss each other's cheek in greeting. Reine drags her feet over the hot concrete, curling her fists until they ache.

"Please." Zemo says jovially, making his way up the steps of the plane.

Inside is just as lavish as Reine imagined. Dark mahogany walls and plush leather couches that mould around Reine's muscular body the moment she sits. It's comical, how she seems to sink into the fabric like quicksand, and Bucky, from where he sets himself down across from her, is reminded of the little girl with the laughing eyes he'd encountered all those years ago. Reine looks into her lap, head resting against the back of the couch, eyes fluttering open and closed.

She looks exhausted.

Then again, they all do. In just a short amount of time, it's all changed. The monotonous, tear-stained life the two had decided to live out is shattered by this new predicament, these twists and turns. The man on the truck, Reine's super soldier status, Zemo. It's enough to drain whatever life they still had out into oblivion. But like everything in their lives, the fight must go on.

Reine rubs a hand over her face, making a mess of her hair.

Zemo doesn't come to them until the jet is in the air, turbulence causing shifting the jet back and forth. He gives a sinister grin to the trio, making himself comfortable in the seat on the other side of the aisle. Sam is closest to him, Reine beside, and Bucky across.

Reine takes to looking out the window, stomach lurching at the clouds rushing past below them.

A couple minutes later, the sound of shuffling feet pulls her back. The old man, Oeznik, comes in from the cockpit, a metal tray lattered with drinks in his shaking arms. Half of her wants to rush and help him before the glass clatters to the floor, and the other half wants to flip the tray. She sinks deeper into the couch, legs crossed under her.

"Apologies if that's a little warm." Oeznik says to Zemo, handing the man a glass of champagne. "The fridge is out." But I will see if there is some good food in the galley."

"Thank you, Oeznik." Zemo replies. "And please, see if there are any juice boxes in the back for Reine." Sam looks at her, face cold as stone.

"I'm not thirsty." Reine bites out.

"Don't mind her." Zemo responds. "She'll want some food, too." Reine glares, biting hard on her tongue. But before she can respond (with her words or fists, it remains unclear) Zemo speaks again, this time in what they can only assume is his native language, Sokovian. Whatever Zemo says to Oeznik, the man giggles like a little girl.

"Oh, it's good to have you back, sir." he says gleefully. Zemo raises his glass as if he's just given a wonderful toast.

Reine cocks her head to the side, staring at nothing in particular. "Remind me again why he's here."

"Come now, Reine." Zemo chastes. "You agreed to free me just as much as your father."

"Don't remind me." she grumbles. Sam pats her clenched knuckles encouragingly.

"You don't know what it's like to be locked in a cell." Zemo continues, unbothered. "Oh, that's right..." looking at Sam. "you do." His grip on her hands grows tighter as Reine leans forward, teeth bared.

In this moment, Zemo sits back, watching admiringly as the super soldier miracle turns from girl to beast and back again. How easy it is for her to lose control, he thinks, and how difficult it is to get that control back.

"Why don't you tell us where we're going?" Sam says after a beat. Zemo is only half listening, picking up a thin book on the ledge next to him. From where she sits, Reine can see that enclosed in the pages is another, smaller book, one she recognizes all too easily.

"I'm sorry." Zemo says. "I was just fascinated by this. I don't know what to call it, but this part seems to be important." He pulls the notebook away from the other pages. "Who is... Nakajima?"

Reine's stitches pull at her skin, the nightmares from days before pushing back to the surface. She rises like a feline cat, arched and ready to pounce, but Sam –knowing better than to see where this goes– holds onto her shoulders.

Bucky has no one to hold him back. He jumps out of his seat, metal hand curling around Zemo's throat. Reine curses in Spanish, noting the familiar prominent veins popping from her stepfather's neck. The restraint is killing him.

"If you touch that again, I'll kill you." He murmurs. Zemo nods, stoic, as Bucky moves away, back to his seat. Sam's face is close to Reine's, so he notices the flare in her eyes, the caution in the twitch of her jaw. They know what Zemo's trying to do; seeing how far he can go, how much he can tear them apart, before he's either caught or he succeeds. Reine is smart enough to understand this, but how well will she be able to fight it when the time comes?

"I'm sorry." Zemo says, pulling himself together. Reine eases into her seat, stray hair falling into her face. She doesn't try to pull it back. Her mother always said she had the most unruly hair, but whenever Marina stroked it, combed it, the locks always seemed to behave.

Now Reine has nothing except her bulky, bandaged, bloody hands.

"I understand that list of names." He continues, and Reine's eyes widen. She looks at Bucky, but his gaze is unfocused. "People you've wronged as the Winter Soldier."

"Don't push it." Bucky replies.

"Is Marina on that list?"

"Stop." His voice is haunted, throat strained, and Reine's heartstrings tug for T'challa and Okoye, for the mindless thrill of combat training. Not this, not reminder after reminder of what life has become.

Sam, as ever, diffuses the tension. "I've seen that book. It was Steve's when he came out of the ice. I told him about Trouble Man. He wrote it in that book." He's looking directly at Bucky. "Did you hear it? What'd you think?"

"I like 40's music, so..." Bucky replies, monotone.

"You didn't like it?!" Sam demands, offended.

"I liked it." Bucky replies, equally offended.

Without warning, Reine snorts, loud enough for all of them to turn to her. "You didn't even finish the song." Sam's eyes bulge out of his head.

"You what?"

Bucky's looking at Reine, betrayed.

"It is a masterpiece, James." Zemo pipes up. "Complete. Comprehensive." Reine and Sam give him the side-eye. "It captures the African-American experience."

Sam shakes his head, unsure of what to think. "He's out of line, but he's right. It's great." Reine nods along, humming the tune under her breath. "Everybody loves Marvin Gaye."

"I like Marvin Gaye."

"Steve adored Marvin Gaye." and there it is, the underlying bite in Sam's tone. The same sharp clash of teeth back at the police station. Bucky shakes his head.

Mama loved Marvin Gaye, too. Reine doesn't say it out loud, but they both know that's when they first heard his songs. At the apartment in Madrid, Reine dancing, stepping on their toes, mama singing along to the lyrics without a care in the world, and Bucky watching her.

Reine shakes her head, pushing the memory away.

"You must have really looked up to Steve." Zemo says. "But I realised something when I met him." All air is sucked from the room, as always when one of two forbidden names is spoken aloud. "The danger with people like him, America's Super Soldiers, is that we put them on pedestals." Reine can almost feel the serum rushing through her veins. "They become symbols. Icons. And we start to forget about their flaws. From there, cities fly, innocent people die. Movements are formed, wars are fought."

"Watch your step, Zemo." Sam warns.

"Do we want to live in a world full of people like the Red Skull?"

"Steve was nothing like the Red Skull." Reine blurts out, but she stops herself from saying anything further when Bucky gives her a warning look. Bringing up the war he fought all those years ago has him tense.

"Hm." is all Zemo says in reply. "Still, I rest my case. That is why we are going to Madripoor." Reine turns back to the window, restless and bored. Each second she spends with Zemo has her inching closer to the edge of insanity. Just get this over and done with, she keeps reminding herself. Stop the Flag Smashers, find out how she got the super soldier serum, and deny, deny, deny the truth. It's unhealthy, Reine's smart enough to know that, but every time she lets herself think about Mama, a lump swells in her throat and tears collect at the edge of her vision.

"What's up with Madripoor?" Sam asks. "You guys talk about it like it's Skull Island."

Bucky answers. "It's an island nation in the Indonesian archipelago. It was a pirate sanctuary back in the 1800s." At the last comment, he throws a disapproving look at Reine. She blows out a breath, not meeting his eyes. Even Sam eyes her from the side, aware of just how ridiculous it is they are letting her go with them.

"It's kept its lawless ways." Zemo is the only one unfazed by their current predicament. "But we cannot exactly walk in as ourselves." This catches her attention. "James, you will have to become someone you claim is gone."

There's silence as Bucky deflates in his seat, but at last, he gives Zemo a stoney, determined look.

All Reine can do is shake her head. This is a very, very bad idea.

✧

Alex leans against the crumbling, dilapidated wall of the GRC resettlement building in Latvia. His fists curl and release, a constant rhythm against his chest. He looks on to the scene before him lazily. He is, to be perfectly honest, wholly uninterested in the proceedings, but out of duty he has to appear sad and grieving.

Karli Morgenthau is on her knees, shoulders heaving as sobs erupt from her mouth. In her arms is the cold, lifeless body of her mother-figure, Donya Madani. Spread out across the room are nearly a hundred hospital beds, most of them occupied. This is the sick room for the displaced, the ones without a home after the Snap.

It reeks of illness, but Alex keeps his head high. He watches Karli with growing frustration as their leader weeps and breaks down right in front of him. This sort of thing has always been a mystery to Alex. Heartbreak, suffering, he scoffs at the words.

As Karli continues to weep, he turns his neck to peer out the window into the small stone courtyard of the camp. The place is filling with people faster than the government or charity organisations can keep up with. Each day there is another outbreak of tuberculosis. Each day new people are sleeping on floors instead of beds because there aren't enough.

Each day the world grows just a little bit worse.

A group of young children ranging from 9 to 16 are playing football out in the square. Alex watches them carefully, his rocketing insides calming as the stench of disease slowly dissipates.

Girls and boys alike play and wrestle with each other, and despite their current predicament, most are smiling. Alex does too. It feels rough and inhumane on his features, but if this plan is to work, he will need to appear like any normal man would.

But Alexander Lagard is not a normal man, and quickly the smile is shaking, and his eyes burn from the strain of keeping up appearances. He curses and the smile fades.

Alex turns away from the window, stalking over to Karli and placing a rough hand on the girl's shoulder, pulling her away from the corpse of Madani. She doesn't say anything, but he can feel the restraint in her body, attempting to get away from him and back to the hospital bed. Alex doesn't let up. They both know what he is: stronger, faster, wiser. Better than everyone else.

As they walk out of the sick room and back down the cracked hallway, Alex rolls his shoulders, the super soldier serum bouncing along his veins, as if fire has ignited under his marred skin.

a/n: we're just gonna completely ignore the fact that is has taken me months to update this fic OKAY!?!? pls know that i have not abandoned this story, i just lost a bit of inspiration for a while but it's back again and in full force. i am 100% committed to finish this story and i hope you guys are excited because sh!t's about to go down.

sooo let's recap, shall we? reine is still struggling with her grief and the realisation that she's a super soldier, bucky is mad at himself and the world for letting her get into danger, sam is still doing the best he can (we love you king <3), zemo's ready to mess everything up for them, and alex is SCHEMING BIG TIME. ahhh so exciting!!!

as always, don't be afraid to comment, vote, and follow me if you're enjoying this story so far! i love you all so much and until next time....