Welcome Home | Mini Series

Part One

Frankie stood, watching the rain beat against the window, the wind whistling in the air. Her shoulder slumped, her stance showed just how exhausted she really was. She needed a damn vacation.

She wiped her tired eyes and turned back, looking at the empty bed. Around the hotel room. It was eerily quiet and she absolutely hated it. She hated leaving, the sadness in his eyes every single time, like it physically hurt him to let her go.

But she had to get this done.

****

She grabbed her phone and crawled onto the bed, watching as it switched on, coming to life. His face graced her lock screen, the two of them in St. Lucia. It felt like a lifetime ago. His arm was around her, kissing her head. God, she missed him.

Two months on this damn mission and it didn't seem like she'd be coming home any time soon. She'd barely cracked the surface at infiltrating the base. It was dangerous, beyond reckless. But she had to do this. It was closure.

She hadn't bothered to even undress. No point, she realized. She'd just be back and at in a few hours. If she was lucky, she'd at least sleep for awhile. Yeah, right. She did the mental math. It was 8 PM in Manhattan. They were probably cleaning up from dinner.

But it was 3 AM in Moscow.

"Sleep," she muttered to herself, "just go to sleep."

Would he even want to talk to her? She didn't even know at this point.

****

It had come to a head as she headed out to the jet, following on her heels the entire way. His jaw was set. Anger loomed in his steely blue eyes.

"I don't know why you need to do this!," he snapped. "It's fucking dangerous. You could get yourself killed, Frankie! Are you just that stupid?!"

She whipped around, her brows raised at his tone and his words. What the fuck?

"Excuse me?," she roared, her green eyes set on him, so full of anger themselves. Did he really just say that?

He shook his head, but he knew he couldn't take that back. He couldn't backpedal on that. There was no excuse. "I-," he started but she held up a hand, cutting him off.

"I'm not a child, James. I'm more than capable of handling this on my own."

"That's not...," he shook his head, rubbing his vibranium hand down his face, groaning low. "That's not what I meant, Frankie."

"But you said it."

She fought back the inevitable tears. She was so tired of this. Every damn time she took a solo mission, they went down this road. He treated her like glass, like she was fragile and not the ex-assassin that she was.

"I didn't...," he shook his head again and reached for her hand but she pulled back. Not this time. Not again. She couldn't do it. She loved him more than anything, but she was tired of this dance.

"I'm going," she said with finality, adjusting the bag over her shoulder. "End of discussion."

****

Her heart shattered all over, remembering the conversation. The yelling, the anger. The hurt behind his words. How much longer could they do this before they destroyed each other?

"Fuckin' hell," she murmured, closing her eyes, the peal of thunder outside making her jump. God damned nerves. This shit always made her jumpy. But she'd committed, so she'd get the job done.

She sighed softly and tossed the phone to the bed before burying her face in the pillow, determined to get some sleep, she needed a focused mind. And she wasn't getting that by staying awake.

****

The sun crept in too soon for her liking. She groaned and rolled over, but it was useless. She was already awake. "Fuck it," she muttered, rolling off the bed, adjusting the tac suit and grabbing her weapons from the stash.

Tucking two knives into the sheaths attached to her belt, she took a long look in the mirror. She could do this. She was a warrior. A bad ass. A fucking boss.

"Get in. Fight some bad guys. Get the info. Burn the fuckin' place to the ground."

She grabbed her phone, placing it in her pocket and strapped on the pistols, making sure she had plenty of ammo. Who knew how many of them there'd be. Probably too damn many. But she'd take 'em out.

****

She stormed the base like a bat out of hell, quickly taking down two agents, shots dead center, right between the eyes. She inhaled and made her way down the concrete corridor, listening intently.

"Говорят, скоро воробей" 'They say the Sparrow is coming.'

She froze. They knew. It was a trap.

"Что ж, мы ее вытащим." 'Well then, we take her out.'

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Her heart was racing. That voice she knew. Solokov. Her handler. The asshole who inflicted all the torture. A decade of it. The man that had no issue with hurting a child. The one that wiped her when she cried for her mother.

"Она сильная, Владмир." 'She's strong, Vladimir.'

"Потом забираем ее обратно." 'Then we take her back.'

She shook her head. No way in hell. She'd die before that happened. She'd never fight under the Hydra sigil again. She'd put a bullet in her own head before she let them get a hand on her.

"You can do this," she whispered to herself, calming her heart rate. "Kill 'em all. Make 'em pay. Tear it down, Frankie. Tear 'em apart."

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Shit.

She pulled it out slowly, keeping her breathing steady.

*I miss you. I'm sorry. Please be careful. Come home to me*

Her breath hitched. Closing her eyes for a moment, she tried to get her bearings. But it was all wrong, it all went to shit in a heartbeat. The gun was pressed to her forehead. No. No. No.

"Hello, Sparrow. Welcome home."