"What?"
"Bali was born with a gift that none of us can ever hope to have or gain," she explained. "I don't understand the mechanics of it myself, but he made this door. All I have to do
is think of where I want to go and it will take me there. It was his attempt at getting me to trust him."
Steve managed an amused smile, "You don't trust anyone immediately, do you?"
"I'm afraid not. It's the way I was raised, paired with experience, and it's a habit I can't seem to break."
"Doesn't it get lonely – never letting anyone in?"
She laughed, though it was more sardonic than amused, "My problem is not that I never let anyone in, it's that I let too many in. Now, are you going to keep asking questions
or can I get a little silence to concentrate? We wouldn't want to end up in Siberia."
Steve took a step back to give her more space and watched quietly. For a minute, they stood still as stone in the darkness and quiet. When she opened the door at last,
causing a strange breeze to blow out towards them, Steve caught a glimpse of the swirling purple light in the doorframe. He cocked his head slightly at the sight. It looked
vaguely familiar, though he couldn't place where he might have seen anything similar before.
"Where are we going?"
"Why ask when you can see for yourself?"
It felt like hours before Steve's feet hit solid ground once more. As the world seemed to fall back into place around them, his knees buckled and he was pitched forward. Nikki,
who had turned around to speak to him when they landed, gave a startled cry as his entire weight fell into her and she, too, tumbled to the floor. He just barely kept from
crushing her as his forearms caught the brunt of the fall.
They lay there against the chilled asphalt for a second, both gasping for breath and staring with wide eyes at each other. Steve looked down into the surprised brown eyes
that gazed up at him. There was something unreadable in her expression, something beyond the shock of being pinned beneath him. An embarrassed blush crept onto her
cheeks as she glanced down his body and back up to his eyes. It was then that he realized their bodies were flush against each other.
"I'm sorry," he stammered, pushing himself off her quickly. "The trip-"
"Don't worry about it," she answered as she stood up and brushed off some dirt on her jacket. "The first time is always the worst. It was an accident."
Steve felt immensely relieved at her flippant attitude. With her up and alright, he stole a glance at their surroundings. They were in some back alley, though he couldn't tell
what city. It was, however, a good deal warmer than it had been in Misty Grove.
"Where are we?" he muttered.
"Coral Gables, Florida," Nikki answered automatically, pulling a small washcloth from her pocket and stuffing it between the door and the doorframe. "There's a gas station just
down the road that we're going to visit."
Steve was watching her incredulously when she met his eyes again.
"What? You have to keep the door open so it doesn't disappear and strand us here, but I can't just leave it open for anyone to stumble through."
"Okay…" – that was one question answered – "but why are we going to a gas station in Florida?"
She smiled, motioning for him to follow her, "Ever wanted to be a superhero when you were little, Steve?"
He didn't bother answering, as he hadn't so much as wanted to be a hero as not be the victim. And, given the fact that he practically a superhero already, it seemed better
not to say anything at all. He simply followed her down the empty street in silence. She stopped short before him, her eyes focused on a lit store a few dozen feet away from
them. There was a muffled crash coming from that direction.
"Shit. We're late."
Without much more warning, she took off in a full sprint towards the gas station, pulling the hood of her jacket over her head so that it fell over her eyes. Steve followed her,
easily keeping pace with her as they ran. It was only when she leapt straight through the glass door rather than opening it that Steve had to skid to a halt. There were three men within the place, guns in their hands, and one very terrified cashier opening the register shakily.
All four men turned to look at Nikki as she finally came to a stop within the building. She put her hands out as if to stop them from rushing her.
"I'll give you one warning and one only," she announced. "You can either leave this store and get a damn job like every other person in this country, or you can wind up in
prison with some nasty little side effects."
Steve closed the door behind him carefully, looking around for possible weapons and escape routes. One of the gunmen waved at them.
"You and your boyfriend should leave before someone gets hurt."
"Have it your way," she muttered, sounding disappointed in the men.
She waved her hand before them, causing a wall of fire to explode into life between herself and the gunmen. Her eyes turned to Steve's as she yelled something to him. A
gunshot rang out, effectively drowning out her words when paired with the roar of the fire. Her face twisted in pain, her right hand moving to clasp her upper arm as a dark
spot grew on her jacket sleeve.
"Get him out of here!" she shouted, gesturing towards the cashier who had taken cover behind the counter.
The fires died down just enough for Nikki to leap over, but not enough for the gunmen to get through. Steve could've sworn it looked like the air was holding her up as she
leapt. There was an almost weightless edge to her movements before she landed once more on the ground.
Shaking his head to disperse the thoughts, he ran behind the counter and towards the cashier. The poor kid couldn't have been older than nineteen. He scrambled back as
Steve approached him. The super soldier reached out, grabbing his arm and tugging him towards the door.
"Run," he snapped, pushing the kid out the door.
It seemed the cashier didn't need to be told twice. He took one last glance inside, his face blanching in fear, before turning tail and racing away as fast as he could. Without a
passerby to protect, Steve turned his attention back to the fight. She looked just the same as she had when he had fought with her against the Kree in New York. There were
puddles of melted, metallic liquid around their feet, the remnants of the men's guns. She exchanged blows smoothly with them, though she fought more like an animal in a
corner than a soldier.
Her eyes flashed towards his and, a second later, she waved her hand at the flames. He was able to cross the diminishing flames and help. But her aid had distracted her,
allowing one of the men to grab her from behind. She writhed and kicked out in his grasp and another of the gunmen grabbed her leg as she tried to kick him. Steve managed
to grab the third before he could get any closer to her, his fist connecting hard with the man's jaw.
There was a short scream of pain, making Steve's eyes snap up towards Nikki and the other men. She seemed angry rather than in pain, though the way she clenched her jaw
gave away much. It was as if the air in the room had grown heavier all of the sudden and Steve struggled to breathe properly. The man in his hands went purple in the face,
his eyes rolling back into his head before he went limp in the soldier's grasp.
The man who had been holding Nikki's ankle let go as though he had been burned. Angry welts rose on his skin, traveling up his arm rapidly. He backed away in fright,
scratching at the welts as though they would go away before he, too, collapsed to the floor. The last gunman wobbled a bit, his grip loosening on her. She managed to push
away from him as he toppled over. With no one holding onto her, she slumped against one of the shelves.
A string of profan
ity fell from her lips, not all of it in English. She tried to pull herself back up and subsequently give a sharp cry of pain, crumpling back to the floor. His eyes
widened in shock and he rushed to her side. When he knelt down and reached towards her, she swatted his hand away halfheartedly.
"Don't worry about my ankle," she snapped, pulling back the pants sleeve to inspect it. "I've got a bullet lodged in my arm that will cause severe blood loss if you don't tie a
tourniquet around it."
He nodded in understanding, tearing a strip off the hem of his shirt. She offered him her left arm awkwardly and he tied the fabric tightly just above the hole in her jacket. Her
features contorted into a pained grimace as he pulled it tight. With his work done, he glanced back at the men collapsed on the floor.
"Are they-?"
"Dead? No. They're just unconscious. Give them a few hours, and they'll wake up with nasty headaches," she explained. "Are you alright? I tried to contain it to just them,
but…"
She trailed off, looking him up and down for anything that could have hurt him. He shook his head.
"Nothing seems wrong."
Her shoulders slumped in relief, her eyes closing as she sighed.
"I hate armed robberies," she spat out, the words sounding like she had chewed on nails to speak.
Steve drew back, looking at how her ankle was twisted at an unnatural angle. It certainly didn't look like it was comfortable. And yet, much to his surprise, Nikki reached for
the top of the counter with her good hand and tried to pull herself upright once more.
He rushed to stop her, his fingers closing around her arms to keep her from moving, "Hold on, now! You do realize your ankle's broken, right?"
"I've had worse," she responded flippantly. "Besides, the police will have been notified by now and we need to get out of here before they arrive."
"You can't possibly walk."
"I only have to get to the door," she retorted.
She pushed away from the shelf only to fall forward into him. Her palms pressed flat against his chest and she glared down angrily at her ankle. Had the situation been any less
serious, he might have laughed at the almost childish expression on Nikki's face. In a split second decision, Steve leaned down just enough to loop one arm behind her knees
and pulled her up into his arms bridal-style. She gave a yelp of surprise at the motion. If he didn't know any better, he would have said she almost looked horrified.
"What are you doing?"
"We'll never get out of here if you try to walk on your own," he explained, stepping over the contents of the fallen shelf.
Her cheeks flushed red for the second time that night and she definitely looked embarrassed, "Couldn't you just help me walk?"
"There's no shame in needing help."
Her eyes flitted away from his for a second, but the dark night obscured most of her face, "It's not that."
Despite being curious as to what she meant, Steve chose not to say anything more on the matter. He chose, instead, to focus on getting them both back to Bali's door and to
the House. The silence gave him time to think about things he would have rather pushed away at that moment. Nikki was, in fact, the Alchemist – just as Fury had speculated.
And, yes, she was potentially capable of great destruction. But there was also a part of him that knew she would never hurt an innocent. The proof of that was in how she
took a bullet for the cashier in the gas station.
Hazarding a glance down at her, which he felt worth the risk as she was still looking anywhere but in his eyes, he studied the strange woman in his arms. She was stiff against
his chest, as though uncomfortable with being so close to him. He supposed that was due to her stubborn streak for doing everything on her own. There was something in her
that was constantly fighting, constantly demanding to be in control, for some reason he could not understand. Then there was this need for justice that he had discovered in
her. Steve found he could admire Nikki.
When they reached the door at last, she had relaxed enough to lean her head against his chest. He would have wagered that the change was due to exhaustion from both
their escapade and her wounds. Either way, she barely moved as he pulled the cloth off the edge of the door and pulled it open. Stepping into the whirlwind of light brought
Steve the same sense of being thrown head over heels through the air.
He managed to get a more solid landing than the first time, simply falling to his knees rather than falling forward entirely. Nikki grimaced in pain as the fall jarred her in his arms.
Her arms, which she had kept crossed over her abdomen, clutched around his neck to keep as if afraid he might drop her when he worked to stand up.
"I'm not going to let you fall," he assured her, catching her eyes at last.
She looked away with a crooked smile, "I trust you, Steve."
The words caught him off guard and his steps faltered as climbed the stairs. It was a surprising thing for her to say, particularly after how unforthcoming she had been with
him only a month and a half ago. She seemed to notice his shock and looked up at him with an awkward shrug.
"You've done a lot for us, and I appreciate it," she explained. "I should apologize for how rude I was when we first met. You had done nothing to warrant my attitude. And
you've done nothing since besides help us out."
"You don't have to apologize. You were just making sure your family was safe. And I wouldn't say fixing a few leaky sinks counts as all that much."
"Maybe not, but getting Kurt and Pietro out of trouble the other day was definitely a big help."
Steve's eyes widened, but Nikki only looked amused.
"Officer Mitchell called. And Kurt is a terrible liar."
Steve laughed, "Nothing goes on in this house that you don't know about, does it?"
"Not a thing."
He chuckled softly as he set her down on the couch carefully. When he stood up to get help, she grabbed his wrist. Her expression was solemn once more when he looked
down at her.
"Stay."
"I need to get Tandy," he countered. "She could heal your ankle and then we can work on digging the bullet out."
"Not Tandy," she corrected. "The kids don't know about this. Bali knows we left and came back. He'll be down in a minute."
They were silent for a few minutes, Nikki laying across the sofa while Steve sat on the floor beside her. He knew he should text Clint and Natasha to set a time to meet and
inform them on what he had learned. And yet a part of him wanted to keep his word and not say anything about the events of that night.
"You should let Bali look over you," she suddenly said.
"Hmm?"
"My power is unstable at the best of times. Technicalities arise and, sometimes, innocent people get hurt. Just because you show no outward signs of anything being wrong,
doesn't mean everything is alright internally."
"She's right, you know."
Both looked up as Bali walked into the living room. He wore an old faded T-shirt that looked like it had seen better days and plaid pajama pants.
"You're late," he accused, looking at Nikki. "You were being stubborn about getting back, weren't you?"
"You already know the answer to that," she pointed out. "Will you help, or not."
Steve watched as the dark-haired man who was usually so cheerful take on a professional, almost serious demeanor. The super soldier stood up and moved aside as Bali came
closer. The mutant gave him a once over. He felt a pressure in his head, like the beginning of a migraine, but it was gone in an instant. Bali gave a nod.
"He seems alright. I'll keep an eye on him for a few days, just in case."
He then kneeled down beside the couch and pulled up the pant sleeve on her bad leg. Her ankle had
begun to discolor as well as swell. He placed a hand on the break, forcing
Nikki to give a sharp hiss, and a faint glow appeared beneath his palm. Smoke seemed to trail from his fingers, but Steve couldn't see it very well in the dark.
When he pulled his hand away, her ankle looked completely healed. She sat up on the couch, moving it around, and gestured to her arm. Steve watched from where he leaned
against the wall as Bali untied the makeshift tourniquet and helped her pull off her jacket, revealing the white tank top she wore underneath. He shifted to sit beside her and
began examining the bullet wound carefully. As he turned her arm carefully, offering Steve a glimpse of the crook of her elbow.
He felt as though his throat was closing up when he saw what was there. Even in the dark, he could make out a single string of numbers and one letter tattooed into her skin.
The ink was clear and barely faded, as though only a dozen years old. Z10375 – it was something he had personally seen only a handful of times, but he would always
recognize. It was a Nazi serial number.
Steve had not been given the opportunity to say anything on the matter of Nikki's tattoo that night. He had scrambled for something to say, but no words came to his mind
that didn't sound too forward. Nikki and Bali had both gone upstairs to bed with tired 'good night's the second they had finished. Not wanting to wake either of them up at that
late of an hour, he had trudged up the stairs to his own room and collapsed onto the mattress. Sleep evaded him entirely that night.
He lay on the mattress, staring up at the ceiling. Too many thoughts ran through his head for him to even think of rest. Was the tattoo real? Surely it was a fake made to pay
homage to someone close to her – a grandmother, perhaps. Nikki couldn't have been old. There was no feasible way for her to have gotten the serial number from the Nazi
camps.
The soft sound of footsteps broke his reverie and he turned to glance at his closed door. He waited for the sound to go farther down the hall, listening for where the person might be going. Five steps down the hall and two steps around the corner before a door opened, it was Nikki going to the rec room.
Pushing off the blankets, Steve sat up and walked towards the door. Maybe he could put to rest his curiosities. He grabbed a white undershirt to pull on and stepped out into
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