The alarms still rang through the air around her and distantly Iris could hear the sounds of movement from those James had left battered and bruised in his wake. On the table behind her the redhead—she had to be Black Widow; Natasha Romanoff—was coughing and gasping as she regained her breath. Iris barely noticed.

She had failed. She hadn't been able to help James at all. She didn't know where she'd gotten the idea in her head that she'd be able to get through to him, but it had been definitively proven wrong. Iris choked back bitter tears, clenching her eyelids shut to hold back the ones that had already begun to sting the corners of her eyes. She hadn't believed him when he said that, when under their control, he'd do anything they ordered...even hurt her. She'd refused to believe him. Well, without even looking at her, he'd just thrown her into a glass wall.

She couldn't help but believe him now.

He hadn't even recognized her.

Her jaw muscles tightened to hold back the gasping sob that tried to lurch out of her chest, her teeth aching from the effort. A spasm of pain crawled beneath her shoulder blade, the ache from slamming into the glass wall spreading across her back as her chest constricted with the effort of holding in her sudden welling of despair and humiliation.

It was the approaching sound of feet slowing from an anxious jog and the murmur of a familiar voice that finally managed to pull Iris out of her spiraling misery. Forcing back her self-pity, Iris pulled herself up so she was nearly sitting again, unable to help the pained groan at the way her abused body complained at the movement. Forcing in a deep breath to try and shunt the aches aside and ignore the stiffness trying to set in across her legs and back, she somehow managed to prop herself up on her feet, gingerly leaning against a convenient chair.

"Iris?" Her head snapped up at the sound of her name. She immediately regretted the abrupt motion, though, as her surroundings seemed to tip and wobble for a moment while the ache on the back of her head throbbed. A steadying hand closed around her arm as she reached back to probe around the back of her head. Though painfully tender, when she drew her fingers back they were thankfully clean. She was going to have a nasty goose-egg in the near future, though. In a heartbeat the wobbling sensation was gone, and she was able to focus on the concerned and bewildered face looking down at her.

"Iris, what are you doing here," Sam demanded, an edge to his voice that Iris belatedly realized was worry heaped upon frustration heaped upon stress. She blinked up at him, not knowing at first what to say that wouldn't sound completely foolish. Shame at how reckless she'd been bubbled up in her again at the incredulous way he was staring at her, but she resolutely kept her mouth shut. Her whole body tensed under the weight of his scrutiny, leaning away from him as though it would ease the pressure. The movement, minute as it was, still managed to draw a wince from her as the ache seeping through her body flared. Her shoulder was the worst, the focal point as it were, and she knew she was going to have a heck of a bruise there. Sam frowned, concern shifting to outweigh his bewilderment. "Are you alright?" Iris managed a stilted nod, but Sam wasn't entirely convinced, repeating himself more firmly, "Iris, are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," she muttered bitterly, causing his eyebrows to rise with skepticism. Another groan sounded behind them, drawing both Iris and Sam's gazes to the redhead pulling herself up to a sitting position on the adjacent table. Shooting Iris a warning glance that all but shouted 'don't move,' Sam moved over to steady Black Widow as she shuffled off the table, hand massaging at her throat. Iris flinched involuntarily upon glimpsing the red, hand-shaped marks beginning to appear on the fair skin of the other woman's throat. Off behind them, Iris caught a glimpse of one of the JCTF agents—the blonde agent James had nearly shot—steadying a rather sore-looking Tony Stark before darting through the destroyed lunch bar's shattered divider to kneel beside the slowly recovering blonde woman who had fought James alongside Black Widow.

"How you doin,' Nat," Sam asked, hands held at the ready should the lone female Avenger still need the support. The redheaded spy nearly glared at him. Had Iris been in better frame of mind, she might nearly have snickered at the exasperated expression. Sam gave her a light pat on the shoulder when the redhead waved him off in annoyance, her delicate features pulling into a deep, perplexed frown.

And then those clever green eyes flicked to Iris before fixing on Sam. Iris couldn't help but tense at the expression in them.

"Who's she," the redhead demanded without preamble. Sam hesitated, shooting Iris a glance of his own, his gaze hardening.

"Not important right now," he answered, fixing Romanoff with a stern look, "Where's Barnes?" She raised a doubting eyebrow at him, ignoring his question as a tiny smirk appeared on her lips, as though she thought his attempt to deflect was adorable even as it was annoying. But she answered it anyway before steering the conversation right back to Iris' presence.

"Long gone. And it seems kind of important, Sam," she retorted, her tone sharp. In a blink she had slipped around Sam and had taken a step toward Iris. Iris was too smart not to be intimidated by the move and immediately took a shaky step back, stumbling on the wreckage of a chair at her feet.

"Why did he protect you?" Black Widow's expression was fierce and penetrating as she stared at Iris, her challenging tone causing Iris to swallow thickly with apprehension. Iris was stunned, utterly baffled at the way the redheaded spy had turned on her.

But then her question registered like a slap across the face.

"I—what? I—I don't—what are you talking about?" Romanoff's frown deepened. She looked nearly bewildered herself at Iris' confusion.

"Barnes; he was protecting you. He shoved you out of the way just before T'Challa engaged him. Why would he do that?" Iris' mouth dropped open, her eyes going wide as she processed what the spy-turned-Avenger said. Hope flickered back to life within her.

If he protected her, it meant that, on some level, he'd known her.

He had recognized her.

But at that moment the building seemed to wake from the stunned standstill James' escape had thrown it into. Around them the rest of the agents that James had incapacitated were back on their feet and deeper in the building the faint sound of assembling men began to float through the cafeteria. Though Iris was still all but trapped by Romanoff's penetrating focus, Sam was not, his head swiveling around as the waking building spurred him into action.

"We're going, Natasha" he muttered pointedly, fixing the spy with a determined look when she broke off her attention from Iris to glance at Sam. Though she didn't look happy about it, Romanoff said nothing at first, leaning away to rest against the edge of the table behind her as her green eyes fixed warily on Sam.

"Don't do anything stupid," she urged quietly. If Iris hadn't known better, she'd have thought the spy was pleading with him. Sam simply shot her an unreadable look before turning back to Iris. Edging past the redhead, his hand landed on Iris' shoulder, turning and pushing her in the direction of the stairs.

Still reeling from what Black Widow had said, Iris didn't fight him as Sam led her up the stairs, though the lobby and out the front doors into the milling and panicked crowds outside. It was only once they'd emerged into the sunshine that Iris came back to herself, hesitating in order to turn and look back to the imposing building. As though reading her mind, Sam sighed heavily, his eyes flickering with his anxiousness to keep moving.

"He's long gone, Iris." When she didn't answer he placed himself in her line of sight, edging into her personal space with the intention of getting her to unconsciously step away, trying to get her moving again. While it did work, it also had the effect of jolting Iris from her thoughts. She glanced up at Sam as she took a meandering step back. She noticed him fighting back a grimace at her reluctance to keep moving, his eyes darting about their surroundings warily.

"I was so close, Sam," she muttered bitterly. "I came all this way and he slipped away again." Sam huffed, the annoyance in the sound sparking Iris' irritation.

"I said I would contact you," he hissed, abandoning subtlety and finally just grabbing her arm and steering her away. Iris tugged back, trying to wrench her arm free even as she glared at Sam.

"Yeah? Well, I also heard you'd been arrested, so forgive me if I was a little skeptical that it would happen." He glared right back.

"We need to get off the street. Do you have a hotel room somewhere?" She clenched her jaw in annoyance at his commanding tone and deliberate change in topic.

"No, I don't and I'm not going to a hotel. And don't order me around. We need to find him," she snapped back. He huffed with frustration, his gaze lifting from her to survey the anxious crowd he'd pulled them into.

Then he tugged on her arm again, continuing on toward the street beyond the one before the JCTC Building; the area around the complex was cordoned off, but it didn't look like the police and security were preventing anyone from leaving. Most people just weren't. Iris balked, hands closing anxiously around the strap of her shoulder bag as she stubbornly dragged her feet.

"No! I need to see him. I need to know he's okay!" Sam shot her a look that was nearly scathing, though the flicker of pity sent a jolt of surprise through her.

"Of course he's not okay. They did something to his head again." Iris nearly snarled at his response.

"You think I don't know that? That I didn't figure that out? The James I know would never hurt me, yet he threw me into a plate-glass wall," she argued, gesturing back toward the building behind them and the cracked glass panel inside that supported her declaration, "I think it's fairly obvious what happened to him." The harsh expression on Sam's face eased, though only fractionally. Heaving a heavy sigh he began walking again, and this time Iris grudgingly followed, though she kept pulling against the hand he still had wrapped securely around her upper arm.

"Steve'll get through to him. But first I need to get you someplace safe," he said a few moments later as they got farther away from the JCTC Building and onto a street that wasn't shut down by police barricades. As he tried to hail a taxi on the busy street, grumbling under his breath at the chaotic traffic caused by the power outage and compounded by the events at the JCTC complex, something about the way he'd spoken niggled at Iris.

Then it hit her, her eyes widening with the realization. "You know where they're going." Sam glanced at her, his face serious as he paused in his attempts to hail some transportation.

"And I know where you're going: a hotel." She nearly snarled at him again.

"I can help and you know it, Sam. I can get through to him." Though not as unshakable as before, the belief that she could do it had reemerged the instant Agent Romanoff had woken that spark of hope in her. Sam shook his head as he turned back to the passing traffic.

"And so can Steve."

"Sam, please—"

He looked down at her again, his dark eyes nearly incredulous. "D'you know how mad he'd be at me if I dragged you anymore into this than you already are? Hell, if he cares about you as much as you seem to think he does, he's going to want to kill me for bringing you to Berlin in the first place!" She jerked back, affronted. He finally let go of her arm.

"I brought myself to Berlin, genius," she retorted scathingly.

"And I told you he was here."

"You only told me you found him. The TV told me he was in Berlin." Sam opened his mouth to reply, only nothing came out. She couldn't help the tiny smirk that crept across her face when he didn't have a rebuttal for that. After a moment he let out a sound halfway between a sigh and a groan, his hand lifting to scrape over the top of his head as he thought. He looked back to Iris, who was now standing with her arms folded stubbornly over her chest as she watched him back. Resignation flickered over his face, but before she could get too excited his face grew stern.

"Look, Iris. I get it. You want to help; you need to help him, even. Believe me, I do get it. But all of this," he gestured absently around, his dark gaze flicking back to the JCTC Building as he did, "is dangerous. Too dangerous for civilians. You'll get yourself killed; you could have been killed today, and Barnes could have easily been the one to do it. And I think you likely know better than anyone what that would do to him. You want to help him?" Iris just looked at him, wide-eyed, as her chest constricted with each achingly accurate word. He was right, and she knew it. She'd known she was throwing herself into danger the instant she didn't evacuate the building with everyone else. She knew she didn't have the fancy training or skills that he or Romanoff or James had that could keep her alive in their world. She was already in way over her head. She would be a liability.

And she knew how James would react when he realized he'd hurt her, even if it was apparent now that it had been out of a subconscious desire to protect her. She didn't even want to think what it would've done to him had anything worse happened to her.

It would destroy him.

She hated what she knew Sam was going to say next and she hated that he was right to say it. He sighed, his expression easing into sympathy as he realized she knew where he was going with this. Glancing up, he noticed a taxi approaching, and as he waved this one down, the driver took notice, pulling up to the curb. As the cream-coloured car eased to a halt, he turned back to her.

"The way to do that is to stay safe." Biting her tongue, Iris nodded mutely, ducking her head with mortification as her eyes began watering. Her hand lifted to her throat, fingers seeking out the comforting contours of her sunflower. Her tears finally spilled over when her fingertips met only her own skin.

Grimly satisfied with her response Sam opened the door, silently waiting for her to get in. Swallowing back her self-pity, Iris obeyed, her hands white-knuckled on the strap of her bag. But before she could step into the taxi Sam's hand landed on her shoulder. Dashing away the dampness that was clinging to her cheeks she looked up at him.

A small, encouraging grin had brightened his features as his fingers tightened with reassurance on her shoulder.

"It'll work out, Iris," he said quietly "We'll figure it out. And you'll see him again." It wasn't quite a promise. They both knew he didn't have that kind of power or foresight to do any such thing. But it was an assurance that he would do what he could. A small, watery smile was all Iris could manage.

With that, she ducked into the Taxi, Sam close behind her.

She hoped he was right.

A/N: Thanks for reading!

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