Red Ledger- A Marvel Short Story

Part 5

A few weeks later, you found yourself sitting on a stool leaned up against a bar in a small town somewhere in the Midwest.

You'd kept yourself busy doing silent work for Shield at Fury's request, going in where others couldn't.

Per your request, and you were sure everyone else's, you'd had no contact with the Avengers except for the occasional text from Tony complaining about somebody messing with his stuff or asking when you were coming back.

You never responded.

Downing the whiskey sat before you in one shot, you welcomed the burn as you tapped your glass, signaling the bartender for another. He gave you a slight shake of his head in disappointment, but poured your drink nonetheless when you slapped a bill on the bar top.

You couldn't care less what he thought. The alcohol was the only thing that numbed the memories. They were still there, but at least they weren't screaming at you.

You sat in silence, playing with the pack of gum that sat before you. You hadn't been kidding when you'd told Sam Wilson that it helped you focus. Your bright sunny exterior had always been a facade. The horrors of your past always haunted you, leaving you to do what you could to drown them out. And when booze wasn't an option, gum would have to work. Underneath everything, you were broken beyond repair.

You'd accepted your condemned soul. Now, you were just trying to fight some wrongs you were still able to make right. You knew those new names wouldn't erase the highlighted ones. But it was the best you could do on this side of life. 

Downing your drink once again, you're alerted to a text on your phone. You still had connections in Shield other than Fury keeping you notified of certain events and missions. The text received was letting you know about a mission that had just popped up. Scanning the details, you decided it was time. You sent a quick text back, asking to send the rest of the info.

You rolled your eyes when a pounding sounded on the door to your apartment. You'd been ignoring Fury's calls all day, so it was no surprise when he showed up in person. You opened the door, not bothering to stay there as you made your way back to where you were packing. 

Fury trailed behind you, an angry annoyance marring his face. "And what the hell do you think you're doing exactly?" He asked, motioning to the back in front of you.

"Thought you were smarter than that, Nick," you responded, not looking up as you continued to pack your bag. 

"You're not going on this mission."

You raised a brow in response, still ignoring his piercing look. "Not much you can do to stop me."

Fury stepped closer to you, his voice lowering slightly. "I don't want you going, Y/N."

You zipped the bag up, throwing the strap over your shoulder as you turned around. "I read the file, Fury. You read what I read. They're gonna need all the help they can get."

Fury couldn't argue with that and you knew it as you stood there, meeting his gaze. He shook his head at you, not knowing what to say. 

"Don't worry, Fury," you reassured him, "I'll keep to the shadows. They won't know I'm there unless absolutely necessary."

The director raised an eyebrow at you. "You know that's not what I'm worried about." 

Ignoring his words you grabbed your jacket off the back of the chair, allowing an irritated frustration to seep into your features. "You can't stop me. So either help, or get out of my way and let me finish this, Fury." 

You turned back to the man, meeting his gaze head on, arms crossed over your chest. Eventually, Fury relented with a sigh. "I'll have a jet ready for you in thirty."