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Hydra’s unexpected downfall quickly spreads as the worldwide topic, being talked about in almost every corner of New York city and beyond the border area.
It comes across as a surprise, not only for the event itself (the failed launching of the helicarriers that were meant to kill a third part of New York’s population will get people to talk), but because the nazi organization had been scratched off as dissolved and erased for decades. After World War II, and with the rising of SHIELD, the entity had been left with a dead founder and only a few real allies to the dangerous cause.
Along with the news of their now official destruction, several files from Hydra’s multiple mission reports had been left for free access, making it the quickest way to expose the terrible things the organization had been doing undercover for almost a century.
Aside from the list of victims that had been erased under Hydra’s orders, one of the most shocking cases had been the one of the Winter Soldier, known as Hydra’s most dangerous killer.
The deadly assassin had been credited with over 200 hundred assassinations in the last 50 years, only now revealed she was subjected to cryostasis in order to maintain her physical state.
Kidnapped in 1944, a 19 year-old girl that was enlisted to the army had fallen off a moving train and been declared dead by her military friends.
By 1951, Hydra’s program had launched their first greatest machine; a sharp soldier capable of the worst atrocities known to mankind.
Injected with a special serum, the Winter Soldier not only has the arduous of trainings but also counts with extreme physical strength, faster healing, among other traits.
Besides her clear capacity in hand-to-hand combat, what’s more prominent about Hydra’s only successful super soldier is probably the Winter Soldier’s metal arm; made with Vibranium, the hardest of metals, second in command’s Zola was able to build from scratch a fully functional arm in 1950, designed specifically for the Winter Soldier after the train accident took her left arm.
Only hours after the failed launch of SHIELD’s corrupted helicarriers, the Winter Soldier had disappeared without a trace, leaving behind a history of crimes she committed under the brainwashing of the organization.
According to local journalists, even if the woman at some points returns and reinserts herself in society, justice wouldn’t be able to judge her for her criminal acts, the clearest justification being that she was in no right state of mind when said crimes were committed.
Despite the controversy of it and the multiple discussions, debating if she should pay for the lives she’s taken over the years by being locked in The Raft, the Winter Soldier’s disappearance only means one thing: the deadly assassin goes back to being a ghost story.
Mel turns on the TV, the woman on the news instantly starts complaining.
“After the recent events involved the corrupted helicarriers, how can we trust anybody out there, knowing the Winter Soldier might be around us, a Hydra soldier—”
“Please turn that off, Mel. I’m sick of it.” Caitlyn interrupts.
Caitlyn comes back from work by the time the sun has been long hidden in the horizon. She opens the door of her apartment quietly before closing it behind her, getting greeted by her clearly-bored-to-death cat.
Even if she loves her job as a baker, it is quite demanding more often than not.
Taking off her shoes, she sorts through her things to start cooking dinner when a low sound nearby interrupts her train of thought.
She frowns.
Opening the door of her balcony, a cat rests by the railing.
“Hello, little guy.” She greets warmly.
The cat meows in return, getting closer in order to be petted.
Complying, Caitlyn pets the black cat behind their ear, hearing a low purring.
A shadow moves by the roof, spying her.
“He’s hungry.” The raspy voice interrupts.
It takes a split second for Caitlyn's heart to calm down inside her chest. Despite the delayed reaction, she can’t hide the little gasp that she lets out.
“You scared me.” She reprimands, then more amused: “Since when do you bring stray animals with you? I thought you hated almost every moving soul.”
“Except you.”
“Except me.” She concedes.
“He was hungry. And cold.” She lists, as to make a point.
Caitlyn nods, slowly getting the idea.
“And you hate the cold.”
“…Yes.”
“Okay.” She nods, “Will you climb down? Looking up is doing atrocities to my neck.”
“Yes. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Please get in, it’s cold outside.”
Both mentally and physically, Vi is supposed to be a 20 year-old woman (just a year younger than Caitlyn’s real age).
Technically speaking, she’s around a hundred years, give it or take.
The deadly assassin that’s being talked about in the TV news looks nothing like the woman sitting rigidly in her couch, as if she was waiting for a surprise attack.
Caitlyn supposes the difference between one and the other is perspective, just perspective.
A highly skilled soldier who speaks multiple languages and knows exactly where the North is at any possible location she’s placed at, who knows how to kill targets with her bare hands, alternating between that and her knife or rifle, is also a traumatized soul who enlisted in the army to serve her country and ended up with a non-consensual body modification without anesthesia.
According to Vi, her arm only hurts on warmer days, when the humidity makes the nerve endings attached to the metal arm sting, as if she was being burned alive.
In reality, Caitlyn knows it hurts all the time.
When winter arrives, the cold numbs the pain on her arm, replacing it with the haunted memories of being subjected to cryostasis multiple times since the 50’s.
Being objective, she doesn’t believe Vi gets a moment to rest. Even when she’s here, at Caitlyn’s apartment, it’s hard for her to relax at all, always too worried somebody will track her location even though she has ripped the chip off her arm— her human arm. Hydra’s no longer a threat for her, being dismantled and all, but old habits die hard. Especially for a 103 year-old pink-haired soldier.
"Where were you?" she asks.
Not demanding, just curious.
She knows sometimes Vi needs to have time for herself, needs her agency too, things she's been denied of even before Hydra's project.
And she's also aware that, perspective aside, Vi is a super soldier trained to shoot people from 100 meters away. Only a few words in Russian and she’ll go back to her roots.
Point is, wherever she goes, she'll be fine. Caitlyn just worries either way.
"Visited the museum. They had an exhibition on World War II's soldiers. Just..."
"Wanted to see something closer to home." She completes, nodding in understanding.
"Yes."
She hands her the green tea gently before sitting next to her.
Caitlyn’s cat purrs against Vi’s side.
It feels stupid to ask: "Did anybody see you?" But she does, just in case.
"No." She confirms quietly, petting the kitten slowly, gently.
She mutters a low okay before voicing her current thought: "Why the mask and paint?"
Vi shrugs, "I went rescuing the cat right after."
It's a lame excuse but Caitlyn doesn't press the issue, instead choosing to get up and bring a wet cloth from the kitchen. Sitting once again next to her, she gestures for her to take off the mask.
"You won't be able to sip your tea like that." She adds, amused.
"Yeah, I know." Vi replies like it's obvious.
Unlocking it from her jaw, she takes the plastic mask off her face, revealing her mouth and nose under it. She takes her mug and drinks the tea quickly, mechanically, not really stopping to taste the flavor.
It's almost a task for her, like everything else.
Once she's done, Caitlyn lifts the cloth for her to see.
"Can I?"
"Yes."
Carefully, she presses the wet cloth against her closed eyes, slowly cleaning off the black paint that surrounds her eyelids and the top of her cheeks. The VI tattoo is revealed under it, done quite recently as a reminder of who she is.
Most of it comes out easily, there are some black patches left, from where the paint will need to be scrubbed off less gently. She lets Vi take care of those, not wanting to hurt her.
Under the mask and paint, her face reveals how exhausted she is.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome. Would you like to stay?" she offers even though she knows the answer.
"No, I have to go. Please feed the cat."
She nods, "Will do."
Hydra's greatest death machine is a cat person. Or a cat soldier.
Which is quite unexpected, considering they met through a mission gone terribly wrong. She didn’t really think Hydra soldiers were able to like cats. Or anyone, in general.
Caitlyn has a pretty standard life, working at the local bakery every day and going back home to her little apartment full of plants and books. The most adrenaline she experiences on a normal day is missing the bus on her ride home, which speaks volumes of how much tranquility she lives.
As a complete opposite, the only peace Vi experiences on a daily basis happens through cats. She pretends to hate those little animals, when in reality Caitlyn can see how visibly relaxed she gets when petting one.
Hydra's slow downfall meant Vi gaining control over herself by tiny bits; it's not the helicarriers accident what sets her free, no, she was starting to break her chains long before that. The complete destruction of Hydra's reign is what finally allows her to take the chip off her arm to stop being tracked by her handlers, but Vi was no longer the Winter Soldier by that point.
Caitlyn played a big role on that. Being her mission and all that. Vi is not exactly an artsy nor poetic person, missing most of her human traits in order to be mechanized, but Caitlyn can’t help the fond smile plastered on her face every time Vi refers to her as simply as that: her mission.
It’s all part of a big confusion, in some sort of way; when she was working as a personal secretary for one of SHIELD’s headquarters (she had begged Jayce to get her in, after a big fight with her mother about economic independency), her constant snooping around (she was just curious) had ringed some alarming bells around the facility, her boss being a secret double agent that was also working for Hydra. As a way of getting rid of her, Marcus had ordered the Winter Soldier to take care of her, just in case she managed to discover something confidential (illegal).
And here’s the thing, because a brainwashed super soldier must always be given very specific indications on the missions she’s expected to do, and by very specific she means they’re supposed to indicate which targets should be (or not, which doesn’t happen very often) eliminated. Marcus wasn’t clever enough to do that, although Caitlyn strongly believes he isn’t clever to do anything right at all.
Having rich parents means Caitlyn can’t be easily wiped off the map without an investigation done over, so when Marcus orders their beloved soldier to take care of her, what should be interpreted as make sure she doesn’t get involved in any of this, gets mistaken for something more literal. By the time he realized his mistake, not only it was too late for Hydra to stop their own destruction, but the Winter Soldier had stopped complying to the assigned tasks.
And it is partially Caitlyn’s doing, who only reacts poorly the first time she enters her apartment to the sight of a strange shadow watching over her before deciding to go along with it. It’s after the Winter Soldier’s third visit that she decides to do something about the rigid figure that stands near the corner of her kitchen while she cooks her pasta, not interacting with her at all.
Besides, her cat needs to stop using her as a human scratcher.
“Would you like something to eat?” she asks, absent-mindedly.
The woman does, in fact, not reply to that.
Not because she doesn’t want to, but because she doesn’t seem to understand what Caitlyn is asking her.
“Task unclear.” Her voice sounds unused, mildly robotized.
“Are you hungry?”
“…No.” She says but it comes out dubious.
Caitlyn nods.
“I’ll prepare a second portion in case you change your mind.” She declares confidently.
With a little coaxing from her part, the soldier does sit in the free chair across from where Caitlyn is sitting, taking her mask off for the first time. It’s a little harder to get her to eat, but eventually she does manage to convince her to try it.
Once she’s done, she goes back to standing on the corner like a hawk. Caitlyn does the dishes and pretends not to notice when the soldier wipes the sauce off her face with her fingers discretely.
Her cat bites Vi’s toes aggressively, she hisses a low cука.
“You can crash on the couch if you wish.” She adds after several minutes.
It’s getting late and the Winter Soldier has been spying her for the last three days nonstop. She might as well get some sleep.
The woman shakes her head automatically.
“You’re my mission.”
Now, months after that first (genuine) interaction, every time Vi reminds Caitlyn of her duty, it doesn’t come across as an unbearable task or a painful assignment.
It almost sounds like a promise.
On a casual morning, Caitlyn turns on the TV to the news of Hydra's dissolution and instantly knows the Winter Soldier's job is over. In the last two months, she's reduced the frequency of her visits (patrols) to Caitlyn's apartment, no longer staying full days and nights.
The moment Caitlyn opens the door of her home after getting out of work, she's surprised to see her standing there as if it were any normal day. And when she builds the courage to ask what will happen from now on, the pink-haired soldier just shrugs, unbothered.
All the storage data, mission reports and general records come to light a few hours later.
That same afternoon, the Winter Soldier becomes Vi.
"What would you prefer me to address you as?" She asks out of curiosity. The Winter Soldier it's quite a long name, after all.
The pink-haired holds a physical copy of her own file in front of her; Violet Lanes, born 1925, daughter of Vander Lanes and the eldest of four children. The girl in the photo looks closer to a child rather than a soldier and Caitlyn feels something inside her chest hurt at the implication of it.
The woman sitting next to her on the kitchen table looks much more haunted than the one descripted in the file's notes, quietly reading through all the information. Something more human invades her expression, frowning.
"I like Vi." She mutters eventually, testing how the name rolls around her mouth.
"Vi it is, then." Caitlyn concedes easily.
Later at night, Caitlyn opens the door for her as she claims she needs to go (where to, it’s a mystery), before stopping her gently.
“You don’t need to keep coming here if you don’t want to,” she starts, hesitantly, “Hydra is no longer active, you can go wherever you wish to.”
The soldier— Vi, instantly frowns. Then, slowly, she shakes her head.
“You’re my mission.”
Her voice denotes certainty; there’s no room for discussion.
She comes around only a week after the helicarriers incident, covered in dirt. Her right arm has a small patch of blood. Caitlyn winces in sympathy.
“Hey.” She greets gently.
Happy, even; she wasn’t sure Vi would be coming back so soon.
“Hello.” Vi replies, less robotic.
Caitlyn gestures to her arm, “What happened there?”
The soldier looks down, as if she hadn’t been aware of the small wound.
“Took my chip off.”
The blue-haired nods reassuringly, even if she doesn’t really have that much experience on how to handle the aftermath of a century-old kidnapped super soldier.
“Okay, that’s fine.” Then, “Would you like to come in? You can say no.” She adds as an afterthought.
At least for a while, it’s going to be like that; the Winter Soldier needs to relearn how to be a person again, and that includes making her own decisions instead of having someone else decide what to do and having her not being able to say no to it. Caitlyn can’t even grasp her head around the idea, the type of internal fight Vi must be dealing with right now, having to coordinate her mind and body all at once.
Which is why she doesn’t push, just offers.
She nods after a few seconds, as if debating what she really wants to do.
Caitlyn smiles.
Anyone that doesn’t personally know Vi could be easily offended by the amount of one-sentence replies she gives when having a conversation.
They’ve known each other for only a few months now, but Caitlyn doesn’t feel discouraged by it
She does feel a little out of her element when asking Vi about it one afternoon while she does the dishes. The pink-haired keeps petting her cat, shrugging.
“I’m not… addressed frequently.” She voices with uncertainty, “Superiors at Hydra only expected me to reply when filling the mission reports.” She adds, absent-mindedly.
Caitlyn mutters a low oh, before quickly taking her gaze off Vi’s, focusing on the dishes in front of her. After meditating her options, she does say:
“I’ll make sure to address you more frequently, if you’d like.”
Vi nods, “Okay.”
If she keeps wincing, Caitlyn is going to develop an aneurysm.
In an attempt to approach the topic, she does say that out loud.
Sitting next to her on the kitchen table while sharing a tea, Vi instantly freezes when hearing that. She stops any possible motion her body was doing, her face turning terrifyingly blank.
Not angry, not scared, just blank.
For a moment, it’s like Vi isn’t even there.
It’s been a long time since that happened, almost eight months since she saw her retreat like this to a more robotic, mechanized state. Which speaks volumes of her progress after two years of Hydra’s downfall, and how far she’s come.
“I’m sorry.” Vi mutters quietly, looking down at her tea.
Caitlyn needs to learn when to shut up.
“No, I— I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way.” She clarifies quickly, “You keep rolling your shoulder, is it hurting again? Your arm, I mean.”
“It’s fine.” She dismisses it.
“Vi.”
“What?” she’s getting defensive, but Caitlyn doesn’t want to back off, not from this.
“We could have someone look at it. If you’re worried about—”
“I’m not.”
Caitlyn scoffs, frustrated, “You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”
“I know what you’re going to say and I’m not worried about that.” she raises her voice, angry. “They’re gone, dead, deceased, whatever you want to call it. I’m not worried about going back there, so fuck off.”
The blue-haired instantly shuts her mouth, muttering a low apology before taking her mug to clean it. They both need to cool off.
After a few minutes she comes back, sitting next to a less angry Vi.
When she doesn’t instantly retreat, Caitlyn takes it as a good sign.
“I know you don’t want people messing with your arm,” she starts slowly, “and I get it, I wouldn’t want someone poking around my scars when I’ve already been poked enough. But you’re clearly hurting and it won’t be getting any better unless we do something about it.”
She frowns stubbornly, “I don’t want to.”
“You don’t want to, or you don’t believe you can do something about it?”
Vi shrugs, “It always hurts. It’s a metal arm, it’s not supposed to be pleasant.”
“It’s still attached to you, there are nerve endings connected to it.” She points out, moving her chair closer, “And there must be something we can do about it. Vi, I’m not looking to completely erase the pain, I know it can’t be done, I’m just trying to find a way to make you suffer less from it.” Caitlyn remarks gently.
Vi doesn’t look at her, biting her lip repeatedly in a nervous gesture.
After a few seconds, she mutters: “Okay.”
“Okay?” Caitlyn asks, surprised.
“Yeah, okay, I’ll give it a try.”
She frowns, “You’re not saying yes out of pressure? Because I don’t want you to agree to something you’re not actually comfortable—”
Vi rolls her eyes, “Of course I’m not.” She sighs, even though Caitlyn can tell she means no harm. Just… fondly.
“Just checking.”
“I know. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I’m sorry for shouting at you.” She mutters shamedly.
Caitlyn couldn’t care less about the shouting.
“It’s okay, I understand.”
She opens the balcony to the sight of Vi holding a dead rat in her left hand.
“Uh…” she frowns, confused.
The pink-haired doesn’t seem to get the problem.
“For the cat.” She voices after a moment.
She extends her hand in order to let Caitlyn take it.
Caitlyn does not take it.
“No, thank you. I’m sure my cat prefers to play with… inert objects.” She finishes weakly.
Vi blinks. She almost looks offended.
“This is inert.”
“It’s not an object, Vi. It’s a dead rat.”
When the woman doesn’t have an answer to that, Caitlyn just smiles warmly.
“Please get rid of it and come inside.” She requests gently, “And make sure to wash your hands. I made chicken soup.”
“I like soup.” The pink-haired nods happily.
Without much thought, she throws the corpse of the poor rat through the air, landing somewhere else.
Caitlyn just hopes it doesn’t land on the neighbors’ balcony.
Vi’s ecstatic, or at least her own version of what ecstasy means to her.
She keeps sort of vibrating, humming quietly, bouncing her knee and so on. It’s the type of thing she does when nervous, but this is a completely different scenario, so Caitlyn feels pretty confident when saying she can sense Vi is happy.
The reason of it is simple: she discovered Caitlyn’s shower.
Not as in really discovered, like she didn’t know of its existence, it’s more among the lines of her acknowledging the shower but promptly ignoring it.
Because it doesn’t matter right? What is so important about a shower?
Until she learns it has hot water.
Which is honestly ridiculous— Caitlyn thinks it’s ridiculous, everybody knows that bathtubs and showers have hot water. It’s common knowledge.
And then she remembers the file and the cryostasis chamber and the whole fucked up things Hydra has done to her for the last six decades or so and immediately decides to keep her mouth shut. It’s only been six months since the dismantling of the organization and the woman that visits her almost every week is still learning how to function again, the best she can do is teach her how to use her shower and then promptly leaving her to it.
40 minutes later, Vi comes out of the bathroom looking the most relaxed Caitlyn has ever seen her be.
She’s dressed in a white tank top and black cargo pants, walking around like she’s at the top of the world. Maybe she is.
“How was that?” she asks, amused.
She gives her a thumbs-up, eloquent as always.
Caitlyn smiles.
Half an hour later, she’s dressed back in her soldier outfit, putting her mask on again and securing her backpack.
“Why doesn’t my shower have hot water?” she asks, petulant.
Caitlyn frowns, “You have a shower?” she throws the question before thinking better of it.
“Of course I have a shower. It just doesn’t have hot water.”
“Where do you live?”
Vi shrugs, “Here and there.”
Right, privacy.
“I wasn’t aware you were taking cold showers. If I knew about that sooner, I would have let you shower here long ago.”
“It’s fine.” She dismisses it.
“I know how much you hate the cold, you don’t need to pretend.” Caitlyn reassures her, “And I’m serious about my offer; if you want to shower here, I wouldn’t mind.”
Vi blinks, slowly nodding.
“Okay, thank you.”
Only two days later, she receives a call from Vi.
She’s recently bought a flip phone, which is easier to operate since, you know, 103-year-old soldier from the World War II. TV was a fairly new invention when Vi was a kid.
“My shower has hot water.”
They often skip the greetings. Vi always goes straight to the point.
“Oh?”
“I just didn’t know how to use it. I had to turn on the stopcock.”
Obviously, Caitlyn minds supplies, but keeps it to herself.
“I’m glad you figured out, Vi.”
There’s a pause on the other side, a light breathing.
“I know you offered to lend me your shower because you thought I only had cold water, but would you mind if I—”
“You can shower at my house.”
An exhalation, “Okay.”
She doesn’t know why, she can’t stop talking, “In fact, you can stay longer if you want to. I mean— you don’t need to be jumping from one place to another.”
“What do you mean?”
Caitlyn can imagine the frown that’s plastered on her face. Confused.
“It’s just,” she clears her throat, “you spend most of your time in my apartment,”
“I’m—”
“I’m not finished, thank you very much, and I don’t mind you spending most of your time here, my cat adores you, I— I adore you as well,” she adds after a pause. On the other side of the phone, Vi stays silent, “and I know you feel safer when you’re not alone or out there doing… whatever it is that you’re doing.” Caitlyn inhales sharply, “So, yeah. I wouldn’t mind if you want to live here. With me.”
“And your cat,”
“And my cat.” She concedes, nervously biting her lip.
After a few seconds:
“…I’d like that.”
Vi rests her whole body on the couch while Viktor sorts through his things.
“When Jayce said you were dating the former Winter Soldier, I thought it was an inside joke between you and him.” He comments lightly.
Caitlyn hums, “It is quite… unexpected. And we’re private, considering—”
“The longlist of victims I’ve killed and the many countries I’m known for as Hydra’s deadly assassin.” Vi supplies without an ounce of tact.
“Yes, also that.”
Vi keeps her metal arm exposed as well as her shoulder, in order to let Viktor work comfortably from his position, sitting on the chair in front of the pink-haired. Caitlyn sits on top of the armrest, gently petting Vi’s hair.
He pulls out a few more tools, placing his glasses more securely on the bridge of his nose, before resuming his tinkering.
Vi looks up, paler than usual. She’s nervous, Caitlyn can tell.
They agreed to this for two reasons: one, because Caitlyn can’t keep seeing Vi suffer from the pain her arm inflicts and two, Viktor has proved to be a trustworthy… super soldier’s metal arm fixer. Or something like that.
He’s also very passionate about this type of technology and he may have begged almost a thousand times to be allowed to do this, after learning Caitlyn was telling the truth about her girlfriend being the Winter Soldier.
But Vi doesn’t need to know that. At least not until Viktor's over.
“This is absolutely amazing.” He mutters to himself at some point, deep concentration.
“I beg to differ.” Vi replies tightly.
She’s sweating, getting jumpier with each second her arm is exposed to any possible threat, even if there’s none. She keeps looking down to her arm, as if it were to suddenly disappear.
“Hey,” Caitlyn interrupts, caressing her face, “you good?”
“Yeah.” Doesn’t sound too convinced.
“Viktor, how much longer?”
“Just a few minutes, this is honestly one of the most interesting designs I’ve seen in my entire career.”
“Сукин сын.” Vi hisses, frowning.
“Sorry, what?” he looks up, distracted.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing.” Caitlyn replies at the same time.
He goes back to the arm. Caitlyn keeps scratching Vi’s head.
“You’re wearing your dog tags again.” The blue-haired says, trying to distract Vi from the pain.
“Mhm? Oh, yeah.”
“They look nice on you.”
Vi, being Vi, instantly asks:
“Do you want them?”
Caitlyn smiles, “No, you keep them. I was just complimenting you.”
“Oh.” She blinks, “What for?”
She shrugs, “I just felt like it.”
“All done.” Viktor announces, clearly proud with his work.
“Fucking finally.” Vi mutters, groaning as she gets up to sit more properly.
“What she meant to say is thank you.” Caitlyn clarifies.
“The pleasure’s all mine.” Viktor remarks, pleased, “From now on, the pain should be minimal, I made a few changes to make sure of it but don’t hesitate to call me if you feel like something’s wrong with it.” He adds, looking at Vi.
More calmed and collected, Vi does blink away the few tears the threaten to spill.
“Thank you.”
“What did you take it off with?” she asks gently.
Vi sits rigidly in front of her, watching Caitlyn as she looks around the first aid kit. Her question is met with silence. She finds the needle and the thread after a few seconds of searching around, placing it by her side before looking at Vi.
“Can I look at your arm?”
Vi freezes, watching her cautiously.
“Your— other arm, I mean.” She clarifies.
She doesn’t get a verbal response, but the soldier does lift the hem of her undershirt quietly before resting her arms on both sides.
It’s a pretty small wound, placed closer to the bicep. Nothing too risky, just a lot of blood from not being attended before. It almost looks like a hole in her arm.
“Did you rip this off yourself?” she inquires.
“Yes.”
“Oh. Okay.” Caitlyn nods, “Would you mind letting me sew it? I’ll be quick, I promise.”
The soldier seems to think it through, before nodding.
“If you need me to stop, just tell me.” She adds.
The pink-haired doesn’t. Only wincing with a small discomfort but nothing else. Once she’s finished, Caitlyn looks proudly at her own work.
“There it is, much better, don’t you think?”
She looks down, watching the sewing work done. She hums affirmatively.
Vi lays on her stomach, following the movement of Caitlyn’s fingers as she traces the scars surrounding her arm.
It’s been a hard week; in the anniversary of two years since they met, Vi had the bad luck to ran across an old Hydra guard at the city while buying the groceries.
To say it spiraled into a train of panic would be an understatement. She hasn’t slept for two days and refuses to go out.
More accurately, the one that has forbidden her from going out is Caitlyn herself. Vi was ready to kill the motherfucker right there, which was not a good idea.
Vi winces, Caitlyn instantly retreats her hand.
“Sorry, was I hurting you?”
“No, it’s fine.” She groans before reaccommodating her limbs into a more comfortable position, “I like it.”
“Glad to be of service.”
She smiles, Vi smiles back. Her fingers resume their exploration, following the lines across the red, angry skin.
Then:
“I’m sorry.” She whispers, muffled by the pillow.
Caitlyn frowns, “What for?”
“For scaring you, back there at the supermarket. I hadn’t— I didn’t mean to turn all soldier like that. I just felt like I was in danger and reacted to it.”
“Oh,” she exhales, “it’s okay, you didn’t scare me. Besides, you didn’t get to hurt anybody, you managed to control it.”
“Still.”
“Hm. Was he one of the…?” she asks, tentative.
“No, if he was, I would’ve started running the other way the minute I saw him.”
She frowns, “Why?”
“The words. All of the Winter Soldier’s handlers know the words.”
Caitlyn raises her eyebrows quickly, “Oh, right.”
“Yeah, I need to do something about that.” Vi mutters tiredly.
“We’ll find a way, don’t worry. You’ll be okay.”
“I know, I’m just—” she sighs, “so fucking tired of it.”
Caitlyn gets closer, kissing her shoulder. Embracing her.
“I know.”
She sips her tea while Mel looks at her suspiciously.
“No.” She says.
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Are you serious?”
“A hundred percent.”
Mel raises her eyebrows.
“I honestly don’t know what should be more surprising, you dating the Winter Soldier or—”
“Or the Winter Soldier reciprocating said feelings.” She finishes.
“All of this because Jayce decided to give you a chance at SHIELD?”
“Yep.”
Mel sighs, “Wow. I mean, good for you, not all of us can make a brainwashed soldier feel something akin to love.”
Caitlyn rolls her eyes.
“Vi is capable of loving, Mel. Being a survivor of decades of torture doesn’t make her any less capable of it.”
The woman in front of Caitlyn shrugs, “You have to admit there must be some weird quirks to her.”
The blue-haired smiles, “She keeps saying I’m her mission.”
“What do you mean?”
“After her handlers died, I told her she didn’t need to keep coming back to check on me, her duty was over. And she just… sticked around anyway. Any power they had over her was washed away, any possible task they assigned her to do was over, she has no mission to fulfill. She keeps repeating it because what she means to say is that she likes taking care of me.”
Mel blinks, seemingly touched by the gesture.
“That’s one of the weirdest love declarations I have ever heard in my entire life. You truly found yourself an equal, Caitlyn.”
Caitlyn snorts, “Yeah.” Then, fondly: “I like taking care of her too.”
Vi disappears for two weeks, telling Caitlyn she needs to clear her head for a bit.
Caitlyn’s TV is on the news channel, alerting about the murder of two former Hydra agents. She hears the knock on her window and instantly turns it off.
Vi has her paint back on, the mask too. It’s quite impossible not to connect the dots. That and the clear signs of blood on her clothes.
“Sorry I left for so long, I needed to take care of some things.” It’s the first thing she says when entering the apartment. Her mask makes her voice echo a little, making it sound like a robot.
“It’s okay.”
Vi shakes her head, reprimanding herself.
“It’s not okay, you’re my mission.”
“You are allowed to have… other missions.” She reassures her, “Would you like me to clean off the paint?”
Vi sits on the couch slowly, probably in pain. Caitlyn still needs to check for any possible injuries.
“Okay.”
The blue-haired kneels in front of her, gently taking off her mask, revealing her bloody nose and mouth.
“Ouch.” She voices, sympathetically.
“You should see the other guy.”
“Right now, I only want to see you. Stay still, please.” She commands before grabbing a few wipes.
The paint comes off quite easily, what Caitlyn can’t erase is the look on Vi’s eyes. She looks dazed, her gaze focused on Caitlyn. She keeps her gentle grip on the pink-haired’s chin, forgetting to let go.
“What is it?”
“Can I kiss you?”
Caitlyn freezes in the spot.
Before she can react, Vi is retracting herself, her eyes big and scared.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I—”
She motions to get up, but the blue-haired stops her, grabbing her arm gently.
“No, wait.”
“I should—”
“Vi.”
Vi looks at her again, her face a mix between red and pink.
Caitlyn brings the wipe closer, slowly wiping off the blood that covers her nose and mouth. Vi’s breath hitches at it.
She backs down, throwing the wipe somewhere else.
“You can kiss me now.” Caitlyn declares.
She can sense the doubt in Vi’s pale gray eyes.
“I’m not—”
“Scratch that, you should kiss me now.”
Vi snorts despite herself, still looking warily at Caitlyn.
“I’m not supposed to,” she whispers, “you’re my mission.”
“Then finish it.” She states, a small smile making its way through Caitlyn’s face.
The pink-haired looks down at her lips before getting closer, connecting their mouths slowly. Caitlyn closes her eyes after a fraction of a second, tasting the way Vi’s chapped lips meets her own, one of her hands grabbing her jaw more securely. Vi does the same in return. She hears the way Vi sighs, pleased, and smiles against her mouth.
Their lips distance a few millimeters, a string of drool maintaining their connection.
“Hey.” She breaks the silence first.
Vi smiles.
“Hey.” Vi whispers back.
“I liked that.”
“Me too.”
“Just so you know, I didn’t mean what I said just two minutes ago, your mission is not finished until you kiss me again.”
Vi’s face breaks into the biggest of smiles.