Over Siberia

Spring 2016

While truthfully Nadine had little doubt in T'Challa's sincerity—it had been far too plain to see to even try and discount—she knew full well that she wasn't going to be able to relax in the slightest until the Quinjet was once more in the air and racing away from the god-forsaken HYDRA base in the middle of the Siberian wilderness.

And even then...

She was far too unsettled in that moment. Too worried. Too on edge.

Steve and Barnes both looked awful. Barnes especially.

While she'd noticed Steve first—the blood trickling down the right side of his jaw from beneath his helmet and from the corner of his mouth and the nasty scrape on his left cheek were rather hard to miss—thanks to the way he'd been crouched right next to her as she'd revived, there had been no missing Barnes either, even with Steve positioned between them.

God, she'd felt sick as she'd looked over to the former HYDRA assassin. Barnes was easily the worse off of the pair of them. He looked like he'd been kicked in the face, with cuts and abrasions littering his features while blood painted the lower half of his face, originating from both his nose and a deep gash over his left cheekbone. It had physically ached seeing just how...beaten he looked. He looked like he was barely conscious, his vibrant eyes dulled—though encouragingly aware and focused as he looked almost as anxiously to her as Steve was—and his body sagging and hitching with pain when he moved. It was bad enough that, without Steve's support, she very much doubted he'd be in any shape to walk on his own.

And that wasn't even mentioning the ragged stump of what used to be his cybernetic arm.

It looked like it had been blasted clean off.

He was very clearly in shock.

And Steve didn't look far behind.

They looked like they'd been through hell, and not just because they were both covered in blood.

But as they'd stepped outside, the icy air had seemed to revive them both, if only slightly. As had T'Challa's appearance.

That had been a surprise. An admittedly welcome one. A very welcome one. So much had been going wrong the last few days that she very nearly gaped in surprise when the Wakandan king had started apologising. She still felt a little bewildered over that particular turn of events.

But she wasn't going to question it. She could consider and dissect to her heart's content later.

For now, the priority was getting on the Quinjet and getting far, far away. They needed to get somewhere safe. While she didn't doubt T'Challa's word that he'd let them go, hopefully giving them some time to disappear in the process while he handled the JCTTF, she didn't have a whole lot of confidence that Ross would let them go. Hell, she wouldn't be surprised if he just brushed off any interest in Zemo in favour of pouring resources into going after her, Steve and Barnes.

So they needed to disappear.

But first, they needed to get somewhere secure and tend to their wounds. While Steve wasn't in great shape and Barnes was undoubtedly worse off still, Nadine wasn't in top form, herself. Her ribs still ached from Leipzig and now her head was pounding as well, both thanks to T'Challa, really. If she was being truly honest, her whole body ached a just then from a combination of exhaustion, trauma and sheer emotional strain. Not that she was about to admit it. Not with her two companions in the shape they were in.

So she pushed it all aside—the pain wracking her body and the goose egg forming on the side of her head, the uneasy thrum in the back of her mind from her memories of Seoul trying to surface and toy with her, her worry for Steve and Barnes. With a final wary look to T'Challa as the three of them passed him, she headed directly for the panel next to the boarding ramp, intent on entering in the code to lower it.

And nearly cursed herself as she started when it began lowering before she'd even reached the keypad. Relief flooded through her as realization struck.

Nina.

She must've seen them coming.

Only for unease and apprehension to seep back in to start knotting her stomach once again as she looked back to Steve and Barnes as they caught up.

The lip of the boarding ramp settled into the snow with a crunch and a mechanical groan, revealing Nina waiting next to the interior control panel. And as Nadine anticipated, the impatient worry on her daughter's face immediately melted into an expression of horror as she caught sight of Steve and Barnes.

In a few brisk strides, Nadine was up the ramp, a hand settling bracingly on Nina's shoulder and guiding her back into the Quinjet as Steve helped Barnes up the ramp.

"Mom," Nina breathed, her eyes bright with fear as she twisted back around, unable to look away from the pair of super soldiers, "what..." But Nadine cut her off firmly, startling her daughter out of the panic she saw beginning to build in her blue-grey eyes.

"I need you to warm up the Quinjet, Nina," she instructed as gently as she dared; she needed Nina to focus. "You remember how?" She knew full well that she did, since Nadine had been there first when Natasha had resolved to make sure all the new Avengers trainees knew how to operate the Quinjets, and after once her little sister had been satisfied Nina, the Twins, Vision and Sam were all sufficiently confident with their new skills. But the question was enough to steady Nina's attention and, with a brisk nod and a look of determination that didn't entirely banish the alarm shadowing her pale features the teen was breaking away for the cockpit.

And Nadine breathed an inadvertent sigh of relief.

A few minutes later saw the engines spooling up and Nadine and Steve carefully settling Barnes on the stretch of seats Nina had occupied on their flight out of Leipzig. Exchanging a loaded look with Steve, Nadine took over, waking up the basic diagnostic equipment she'd taken advantage of for Nina as she began a cursory examination of her own. It took far more effort than she expected not to outwardly react when his head fell back, his jaw clenching and eyes sliding shut, his breath hitching with a supressed sound of pain despite her carefully gentle touch as she got his jacket open with the intent of getting it off and out of her way.

She only paused with the intent of collecting the medical kit stowed near the cockpit. But even as she straightened, preparing to stand, she turned to see Steve setting it down within easy reach next to her. Sparing him a grateful smile—one that nearly faltered as she automatically took note of the additional abrasions and nascent bruising his helmet had hidden now that he'd removed it—as he took over helping Barnes out of his jacket, she opened the kit, intent on something to ease Barnes' pain. Luck was apparently on her side. The pain relief shots she was after were sitting almost immediately on top, right next to an IV pack; just what the diagnostic equipment was recommending. Barnes didn't even flinch as she administered the shot into the side of his neck.

"Mom?" She looked up at Nina's call, her daughter twisting in the pilot's seat to look back at where Nadine sat next to Barnes, steadying him as Steve guided him down to lay on his right side. Pillowing his head on her thigh as she leaned over to inspect his arm, Nadine had been contemplating whether he was bad enough off to risk inserting the IV catheter into his forearm or if she should go for the more traditional insertion site on the back of his hand first. "We're ready to go." The question was implied. Nadine looked to Steve again where he knelt in front of her and Barnes. He inhaled deeply as he looked between Nina and Barnes before settling on Nadine.

"Any ideas?" he asked softly. Nadine's breath hitched at the minute way the corner of his lip quirked. She huffed out a small laugh.

"One or two," she replied, only half-teasing. She really did have a couple potential places to lie low as they decided on next steps. "But just now, putting some distance between us and this place is priority. We need to lose anyone coming after us before we head for cover." Agreement clear on his face, he nodded, his hand settling heavily on her shoulder as he stood. She leaned into the contact, the brush of his thumb against the side of her neck far more reassuring—even comforting—than she expected. At her direction, he hung the IV bag over their heads and retreated to the cockpit to relieve Nina.

Satisfied that Steve had things well in hand as the Quinjet lifted off with a faint shudder, she turned back to Barnes. The diagnostic equipment was slowly doing its work, but it was quickly becoming apparent that, while certainly in poor shape and definitely in shock, it didn't appear that Barnes was critically hurt. It was a huge relief, one that nearly had Nadine sagging as she took in the nevertheless still grim readouts once she had Barnes' IV started.

In fact, the worst of the damage appeared to centre on his destroyed metal arm.

As the readouts grew more detailed—listing injuries ranging from a couple cracked ribs, significant bruising both internally and externally, a likely concussion and a range of more minor injuries—Nadine frowned, leaning over to peer at what was left of the artificial limb. It seemed like his body was reacting to the loss of the cybernetic limb much as it would have had the arm been flesh and blood, minus the effects of blood loss. Though, the more she thought about it, the less surprising that seemed. After all, it was an incredibly advanced piece of tech—especially considering that the bulk of it dated from the late forties—and while no expert when it came to biomechanical engineering or cybernetics by any means, she knew enough to recognize that it was tied directly into Barnes' nervous system without the help of the diagnostic equipment to tell her as much.

Which meant it needed to be tended to just as urgently as if it were a flesh and blood wound.

And that meant she needed a slightly different set of tools.

"Is he going to be okay?" Nadine looked up at her daughter's murmured question. Nina stood a few feet away, distress bright in her eyes as she looked down at Barnes. Head on her lap as it was, Nadine easily felt Barnes tense at the sound of Nina's voice. Nadine had to restrain the urge to pull her daughter close, the instinct to comfort her surging forward even as she was thankful her training kept her own anxiety carefully hidden away. Instead she fixed Nina with a serious look, mind already beginning to work.

The damage done to Barnes' arm was beyond what she could 'treat' on her own.

She only had two hands, after all.

"He will be," she said determinedly, taking care to keep her voice mild lest her own worry bleed through; now was not the time for that. "But we need to—deactivate what's left of the arm in order to stabilize him," she simplified. Understanding immediately lit in Nina's eyes. As did approval, Nadine noticed with a small measure of pride and even a flicker of amusement. "I need you to go into Stark's locker. We need his toolkit." Even as Nadine said it, Nina was already looking across the cabin. Though trepidation was clear on her worried features, Nina didn't hesitate to follow Nadine's instructions, crossing the cabin to the lockers lining the fuselage of the starboard wing.

In moments, she was back at Nadine and Barnes' side, Stark's toolkit for attending to his suit in hand. Her face still pinched and pale with worry, Nina set it down next to Nadine. Once she had it opened and positioned next to Nadine's knee, Nina straightened with the intent to back away enough to give Nadine space to work. But Nadine's hand curled around Nina's forearm before she could step back, urging her closer to Barnes. With a firm look and a slight increase of pressure on Nina's arm, Nadine silently prompted her bewildered daughter to sit on the edge of the seat next to Barnes' abdomen.

"Mom, what—"

"I need your help, solnyshko," Nadine pre-empted, already poking into the opened toolkit, fishing out tools and aligning them within easy reach on the open lid, designed as it was as to serve that very function when the kit was open. "While I have a basic knowledge, you know more about cybernetics than I do." Alarm bloomed on Nina's face, her already pale features blanching further still as Nadine laid the first tools they would likely need in her daughter's hand. Nadine pointedly ignored the guilt tightening her gut at putting Nina on the spot as she was, but she wasn't exaggerating; Nina truly did know more at this point than she did. Truthfully? Nadine wasn't entirely confident she would be able to do what needed to be done to properly disable the damaged and failing inner workings of Barnes' arm to ease the strain on his system. She'd probably manage alright, but since it was Barnes?

Nina swallowed thickly, her fingers curling reflexively around the tools as her wide blue-grey eyes fell on the blackened and shredded remnants Barnes' mangled arm.

From where he laid against Nadine, his head pillowed on her thigh, Barnes shifted weakly, fighting to remain conscious. A small sound faintly reminiscent of alarm and protest rasped in his chest as Nina reached over to exchange one of the tools Nadine had handed her for a different one before resuming her position leaning over the remnants of his—her father's—mangled cybernetic arm.

"Easy, Barnes," Nadine murmured, laying her hand flat over his heart, steadying him.

A touch Nina instinctively echoed, her hand falling to rest half on Nadine's, half on Barnes' chest. And to Nadine's relief, he calmed beneath their touch. Her composure nearly cracked as his vibrant but pain-clouded eyes flicked up to meet hers. God, there was so much emotion there. The almost desperate, longing, pained way he'd been looking at Nina...like he couldn't believe she was so close—easily close enough to touch, really, given how Nina was perched on the edge of the seats Barnes was laid across—and yet like he wished she wasn't. Nadine inhaled deeply, forcing herself to turn back to his arm.

She could intimately understand the wealth of emotions swamping him, just now.

Part of her wished she didn't need Nina, right then, either. That she could shield her from their grim reality, both the immediate one and the larger one that awaited beyond the Quinjet.

And yet, she also wanted her daughter close. Almost desperately. And not just because she needed Nina's help.

So yes, she could definitely relate to the conflicted feelings plainly visible in Barnes' blue-grey eyes as his gaze fell back to Nina.

Nina, whose brow was furrowing slightly as her sharp eyes darted over the panels that made up the shoulder's outer covering and down to the exposed, ragged ends below.

Leaning forward slightly, Nadine peered at the IV bag above her head, following the line down to the needle where it was inserted into Barnes' forearm, checking that it was secure and the bag was draining at the right speed. Satisfied, she leaned back a little, eying the panels that made up his shoulder. "These external panels retract?" she asked quietly. Not that she exactly needed an answer. Almost as soon as she'd spoken, she'd noticed a small, round disc-like piece inlaid next to what looked like a designated access point on the back of his shoulder, linking the panel bisecting the star to where its neighbour below flared into a slightly raised, flattened section roughly where the deltoid and the scapula met were it flesh and bone, barely an inch back from the far horizontal point of the arm's red star.

Against her thigh, Barnes managed a soft sound of assent, nodding weakly. She spared him a brief, assessing glance as she pressed lightly on the back of his shoulder to ease him forward slightly, fighting the urge to swallow thickly at the way Barnes grit his teeth at the movement. And at how intently he was watching Nina.

Like she was the only thing anchoring him in that moment.

Nadine had to force her attention back to her daughter, redirecting her focus back where it needed to be even as Nina's slim fingers rose, hovering over the ragged cables and wires and the shredded structures that had once been the upper arm as her gaze grew curious and calculating. "Careful, solnyshko," she warned absently as Nina's fingers started drifting a little too close to a set of exposed wires, "it's all tied directly into his nervous system." Nina started, jerking her hand back as a modicum of colour returned to her cheeks as she realized what she'd been doing, glancing briefly to Barnes in apology.

"It's...incredibly sophisticated," she murmured, a thread of awe in her voice. Only for her brow to furrow faintly in thought. "But still...it's almost... Some of the base technology—some of it's almost obsolete," she continued, perplexed, "some of it is! It's...there's nothing here from the last decade, at least!"

"I know, solnyshko," Nadine agreed sedately, looking down to the remnants of the cybernetic arm herself, "It's hard to believe HYDRA had this sort of technology in the forties..." Nina's eyes blew wide in astonishment, looking between Barnes and Nadine. A wan smile tugged at Nadine's lips, but before she could respond, Barnes shifted between them.

"There's been the odd upgrade since then," he rasped out, the corner of his mouth twitching as he corrected her. Despite herself Nadine grinned. Nina was on the verge of giggling at his nearly wry response, only for her face to fall as her gaze was drawn back to the ragged stump.

"This is so bad, Mama," she whispered fearfully, gesturing absently to the charred wires and almost melted components she'd nearly touched in the course of her own assessment a moment before. "How do we even start fixing this?" Nadine bit back a sigh, studying Nina's drawn features for a moment before answering.

"You'll need to disconnect everything before we can even think of cleaning the ends up." Nina's gaze snapped up to Nadine's at that, her eyes widening with panic. It had finally sunk in that Nadine genuinely intended for her to do more than just help.

"But—but Mom," Nina objected, her voice shaking, "I've never—I don't know enough...this is so far beyond—" Her features softening, Nadine fixed her with a sympathetic look, brushing back a wayward strand of her daughter's pale hair—it was shorter than it had been the last time Nadine had seen Nina in person, the pale blonde waves just barely brushing Nina's collarbone—before laying her hand on Nina's cheek.

It made her look just a little more grown up, Nadine noted absently.

Or was it the steel she caught a glimpse of hiding beneath the apprehension in her daughter's expression that did that?

"You know enough, Nina," she assured her softly. "And I'm here to help." Her jaw clenching with resolve despite the fearful trepidation in her eyes, Nina nodded. Eyes wide and fixed nervously on the remnants of Barnes' arm, Nina almost distractedly shrugged out of the outer jacket of her pale blue and cream uniform and shoved up the sleeves of the light athletic tee she wore underneath before finally peeling off each of her fingerless gloves in a brisk, almost jerky movement.

Reaching over, Nadine picked up a tool of her own, gently manipulating the latch disc as best she could one-handed, her other hand resting on Barnes' clavicle in support.

And without thinking, Nina edged closer still to Barnes where he lay on the Quinjet's bank of seats—close enough that her hip rested against his ribs out of necessity given how narrow the remaining bit of seat she was perched on was—to watch Nadine work.

She nearly smiled as a second delicate tool and then a third, working carefully but precisely in Nina's slim fingers, joined the tool Nadine held. Dimly, it struck Nadine just how reminiscent their movements seemed to manually picking a lock as they worked to unlatch the plate hiding what Nadine suspected was the arm's master control components. Something Nina seemed to note too as her manipulations grew more purposeful, her lower lip catching between her teeth in her concentration.

With a click and a muted whir, the locks on the panel disengaged, the slightly squared, flattened panel popping free. With a tentative glance to Nadine for encouragement, Nina set her tools down on her lap and removed the plate.

Sure enough, the flattened portion of the plate hid the primary control mechanisms for the entire arm.

Unfortunately that was the end of the good news.

The damage Stark did in destroying the bulk of Barnes' metal arm had also done a number on the mechanisms they'd just revealed. Many of the wires, circuits and primitive switches were scorched and shorted, some parts so badly damaged they'd been all but fused to the underlying structures and supplementary components.

Yet, after sharing a loaded look with her mother, Nina nevertheless grit her teeth and, picking up a compact plasma torch in addition to one of the precision tools on her lap, set to work under Nadine's calm encouragement and instruction, starting the arduous and delicate process of manually disconnecting the sensory and the rest of the operational processes of the arm.

Nadine had never been more proud of her little girl as she boldly set to work, her touch gentle but confident in a way that belied the nerves shadowing the determined set of her features.

Slowly but surely, they triaged the ragged end of Barnes' mechanical arm, the pained groans he was fighting to swallow back slicing through them both like blades.

By the time Nina set down her tools for the last time, grimly satisfied that they'd done all they could for the time being, Barnes was slipping in and out of consciousness.

But he was still, for the most part, awake even if he wasn't entirely aware. And his gaze rarely wavered from Nina.

Not when the Quinjet shuddered once again and the engines began to deepen in tone as they slowed, the familiar sounds and sensations indicating Steve had found a secluded spot to set it down. Nor when Nadine carefully manoeuvred her thigh out from beneath his head, replacing it with the folded blanket Nina had used for a pillow when she'd been similarly laid out after Leipzig.

His attention on his daughter didn't even waver when Nina slipped off beyond his line of sight to clean up in the meagre washroom tucked in the far corner of the cabin that extended into the port wing. Certainly not when she returned just as Nadine was checking on the IV bag and ensuring once more that the needle was secure and properly placed, a small, damp set of cloths in her hand.

Nadine nearly started as Nina settled herself down in front of Barnes again, this time kneeling on the floor next to him.

And her throat closed up as Nina began to gently clear away the blood and dirt crusted on Barnes's face. From her father's face. His breath hitched just as Nadine's did, a wash of emotion clouding his pain-dulled eyes as Nina tended to the cuts across his nose and cheeks, not even wincing as she made use of the antiseptic wipes from the first-aid kit to clean each newly revealed wound.

Nina only paused in her ministrations as Barnes shifted, his movements ginger and halting. Nadine froze, her chest suddenly aching, though from lack of air or the wave of emotion of her own that was surging up, she didn't know. The corner of Barnes' mouth tugged, his gazes softening, growing almost apologetic as Nina's uncertain eyes met his.

"So beautiful," he breathed, his fingers rising to graze over the soft skin of Nina's inner arm where it hovered, parallel to his even as she reached to press one of the wipes to the deep abrasion just above his left brow.

Nadine wasn't even aware of the damp, warm trickle that spilled onto her cheek as she watched her little girl tentatively smile back before resuming her task.

Not until a light but nevertheless comforting touch settled on her lower back.

With a brisk gesture she brushed away the tear that escaped at the tender moment even as she leaned into Steve's touch.

"How is he?" Steve murmured. Though reluctant to look away from her daughter and Barnes, Nadine looked up to him, unable to help but smile at the soft, pleased brightness in the Captain's warm gaze. And once more her breath was hitching as he turned that warm gaze to her, the expression in his ocean-blue eyes deepening.

"He'll be okay," she murmured back, careful to keep her voice just as low as Steve's to keep from disturbing the quiet peace that had settled around Nina and Barnes. Steve let out a heavy sigh of relief, his shoulders sagging with it. Nadine's head tilted, studying him; for all that T'Challa's unexpected but welcome change of heart and the heartening exchange between Barnes and Nina had seemed to ease the heartache and sorrow weighing on Steve, it hadn't disappeared by any means. It was still written clearly in the way he held himself, something shadowed and subtle lingering beneath the relief. It took her a moment to pick out the guilt he carried along with everything else. Nadine withheld a sigh at his guarded expression.

With a silent nod and a hand sliding up his arm to settle lightly on his shoulder, she led him around to the opposite side of the bank of seats where Barnes and Nina were, before not so subtly but just as silently insisting Steve take a seat. A flicker of amusement lit in Steve's eyes at her wryly raised brow when he didn't immediately follow her instruction, instead trailing after her as she echoed Nina's earlier trip into the washroom to collect some damp cloths of her own.

It was making her uneasy to see the evidence of the brutal fight Steve had endured at Stark's hands still staining his face.

"How are we?" she asked lowly as she wrung out the excess water from each cloth, sparing Steve a brief glance before making use of one of them to wipe away the tacky, drying blood that had trickled down her temple after T'Challa had snuck up on her; she was still bitter about that, if she were being honest with herself. There was no mistaking her meaning.

"We're secure for now," he answered, sparing a quick glance of his own back to Nina where he could just see the top of her head over the bank of seats. "combined with the natural shielding effect from the valley I put us down in, the Quinjet's stealth tech will keep us out of sight until we're ready to find somewhere a little more secure once we've rested up a bit." Nadine nodded, satisfied. She'd had no doubt Steve knew what he was doing.

Nudging Steve back from where he was leaning against the frame of the narrow washroom door, Nadine once more insisted with a look and a hand on his bicep that Steve take a seat, a silent instruction he still seemed reluctant to obey as a fond if wry grin surfaced. Nadine was nearly tempted to roll her eyes at the expression.

Only to sober as she once more caught a glimpse of the weary, pained sorrow lingering behind his cheerful expression.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly, running a hand lightly up his arm, her thumb absently rubbing against his bicep. The corner of his lip quirked in a smile that wasn't entirely convincing. His arm automatically slipped around her once more, settling on her waist.

"Yeah," he murmured. "Yeah, I'm fine." Nadine's head tilted, fixing him with a concerned look even as she withheld another sigh.

"No, you're not." Steve sighed heavily at her soft, knowing reply, the front he'd been wearing bleeding away, leaving him visibly heartsick and weary.

"No, I'm not." And she let him pull her in tight against him, melting into his embrace, sensing he needed it as much as she did.

After a long moment, he inhaled deeply, pressing a soft kiss to her temple before pulling back. Though he didn't say it, his gratitude was clear and bright in his eyes. Brushing her fingertips along his jaw, Nadine smiled fondly back.

And gestured once more with a wry look for him to sit down so she could tend to his injuries.

"I'm fine, Nadine," Steve insisted despite finally following her soundless instruction. She nearly smirked in satisfaction, not entirely able to keep her lip from quirking as he raised an equally amused brow at her, some of his spirit returning. It was a reassuring sight.

"Well, it's hard to tell with the state of your face," she quipped back without any real bite, "so forgive me if I reserve judgement on just how injured you are until after you're cleaned up a bit." Steve huffed out a chuckle as she began cleaning away the blood that had spread across his chin from the split on the corner of his mouth, leaning into the steadying hand she'd laid against his jaw. Her lips pursed as his gaze suddenly grew searching as he watched her work, his brow furrowing slightly.

"Nadine, you're hurt too—" he started to counter, reaching up to brush his fingers against her temple. She cut him off with a soft huff of her own as he traced his fingertips along the trail her blood had left down in font of her ear before she'd cleaned it off.

"Rogers, if you knew even a fraction of the injuries and situations I've endured?" she dismissed lightly. "I can handle a simple headache." Because at this point, that was all it was. The worst of the throbbing had subsided, as had the trace of nausea and dizziness she'd experienced upon first reviving back in the base; courtesy of her Enhanced healing factor. While she didn't doubt that whatever concussion or similar damage the knock on the head she'd experienced hadn't healed completely just yet, she was well on her way back to normal. She could easily handle the aches that remained.

It was child's play for a Red Room recruit to ignore such discomforts, after all.

As she should have anticipated, though, Steve wasn't entirely convinced.

More than that, the shadows behind his eyes had begun to seep back in, the weight of whatever had happened back at the HYDRA base beginning to settle over him once again.

Especially as his gaze shifted once more to look at Nina where she was still tending to Barnes.

"What happened?" she asked carefully. Steve tensed at her murmured question. "What did Zemo show you?" She needed to know. She didn't even want to try and consider just what horror from Barnes' past had been used to turn Stark against Steve.

Because truthfully? There was a lot.

Not that it stopped her from doing so anyway; whether she liked it or not, her training demanded she try.

The Captain let out a heavy sigh. Reaching up, his hands closed around her wrist, gently tugging her hands away from his face.

It was a long moment before he answered, visibly struggling to vocalize what had happened. It was a struggle to keep her anxious impatience in check, ideas of what Barnes could've possibly done to turn Tony against his friend running spontaneously through her head. Off the top of her head, she could think of a few possibilities.

And every one of them was wrong.    

"Bucky—the Winter Soldier, was the one who killed Tony's parents."

It was so unexpected, the revelation felt like a physical blow. Nadine swore in Russian under her breath, her eyes sliding shut in pain as she sank into the seat adjacent to his. When she looked back to him, Steve met her eye gravely, his stoic composure threatening to crack.

"If that translated to what I think it did, you're right on track." It was then that she noticed a peculiar flicker of emotion cross his features. Emotion that took her a moment to identify. Realization dawned, her stomach clenching.

"You knew," she breathed, both grieved and horrified. Steve's gaze dropped to his fisting hands, his jaw tightening with guilt.

"Not...not exactly. Not that it was Bucky," he corrected dully, his voice echoing the grave, veiled expression that had taken over his features, "but...when S.H.I.E.L.D. fell, when we discovered HYDRA had taken over from the inside? I found out that it wasn't an accident, that HYDRA had orchestrated their deaths...then once Bucky told us about...about the other Winter Soldiers?" He met her eye once again, and dread pooled thickly in her gut at the weary anguish she read in the ocean-hued depths. "It was Howard who managed to reproduce Erskine's formula," he said softly, and Nadine's mouth parted in shock and horror as the implications hit her like a punch in the gut.

"That's where HYDRA got it...how they were able to..." She was barely able to get the words out around the leaden weight settling in her belly. Steve nodded.

"It's how they were able to create the other five Winter Soldiers...and your Treatments," he confirmed, his voice hollow. She couldn't speak. She could barely draw breath.

"Dammit," she finally muttered. "I wondered if there was a link but...God, it was Stark's father he took it from?" Steve could only nod in confirmation. Nadine let out a weary sigh, a hand rising to massage her forehead.

"No wonder Stark snapped." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. A bone-deep exhaustion settled over her that mirrored the weight she now realized was threatening to crush Steve. Steve sighed once more, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees as his head fell to his hands.

Nadine barely even realised she'd moved until she was in front of him, taking his face briefly in her hands before pulling him close. As her arms wrapped around his shoulders, his were wrapping tight around her waist, his face pressing into the crook of her neck as he exhaled a sharp, shaking breath.

But then he straightened, resignation slowly beginning to give way to acceptance. And relief began to surface amid the heartache—heartache for Steve, for Barnes, and most especially for Stark no matter her lingering resentment at the man's recent actions—pressing painfully within Nadine's chest. He was going to be okay. It was going to take time, but she could already see the early indications that Steve was beginning to come to terms with what had happened in the bowels of the former missile bunker.

And, his hand rising to trail along her jaw before settling to cradle her face, he leaned in to lay a tender kiss against her lips. A kiss she let herself melt into, her own hand lifting to settle over his heart as she reciprocated the wealth of emotion he was pouring into it.

Neither spoke when they finally parted, a sense of calm having finally settled over Steve as Nadine resumed tending to his visible injuries, finishing her careful washing of his face, neck and finally his hands.

It was at that point that they both noticed Nina too had finished her attending of Barnes' injuries, having retreated to the pair of seats nestled against the leading edge of the starboard wing, her knees hugged close to her chest as she kept vigil over the injured supersoldier.

Exchanging a final, loaded look with Steve, relief warming her further at the reserved but nevertheless reassuring light returning to his eyes, she circled back around the bank of seats, intent on checking on Barnes. A knot she hadn't even realized had been lingering despite their successful tending to the remnants of his metal arm eased further as she realised Barnes had finally succumbed to his body's insistence to rest. It was...strange, seeing how peaceful he looked in sleep. How different he looked.

How, despite the bruises blooming on his face or the rugged stubble, she could swear she saw the man he used to be without the haunted look in his eyes or the wary tension tightening his features.

Satisfied that Barnes was settled as well as he could be, Nadine turned back to Nina.

And she couldn't deny the vulnerable, imploring look in her daughter's eyes as Nina looked up at her. Without hesitation, she was settling on the seat next to Nina, her arms curling automatically around her as the teen burrowed into her mother's comforting embrace. At once the tension drained out of Nina's slight frame and, between one breath and the next, Nina too drifted off, her breaths slowing and evening out against Nadine's neck as her exhaustion asserted its hold over her just as it had her father.

Letting out a long, slow breath, Nadine felt her own body begin to relax, something in her easing at the feel of her child safe and resting in her arms as the lure of sleep began to tug at the edges of her mind. But she resisted, her instincts not quite willing to let her rest, knowing, however distantly, as she did that there was still a danger of them being discovered.

Across the aisle in the centre of the cabin, Steve straightened from his own assessment of Barnes, his broad shoulders relaxing further as he reassured himself that his oldest friend was recovering as well as could be expected.

As he turned, intending to return to the cockpit, Steve caught her eye, a reassuring smile coming to his face. "You're safe, Nadine. Nina's safe. It's okay, you know. You can sleep. I'll keep an eye out." Despite herself, the lingering, anxious tension in her chest eased, a sense of safety beginning to erode away her instinct to remain on guard.

And Nadine allowed sleep to take her too.

A/N: Thanks for reading!

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