Chapter Text
Желание
"identity cannot be found or fabricated, but emerges from within, when one has the courage to let go." – Doug Cooper
★★★
She was a miracle. She was a fighter. That's what they had told her at least.
She wasn't sure if she believed that, or if she ever would. Miracles were attributed to a divinity, and she was the furthest thing from it. She had done terrible things to terrible people and she would continue to do so until she had rid them from the living. The closest she would ever get to any deity was her codename. As for the fighter part, she couldn't deny that fact. The people that she had put six feet under could attest to that.
Tess stared at the leather-bound book she had in her hand. It was aged from the pages indented with her words, corners folded over and the sheets thick. It was over filled with names, dates and highly confidential information which was written in a variety of languages which were all coded differently. Eighty-nine entries for eighty-nine assignments that she had all completed successfully and had been paid well for. And now it would be ninety, she thought, dating the recent entry back to a month ago. The flicker of dark emotions were smothered once she put the book back in its concealed place.
She stepped out to the balcony, dark strands of hair swept onto her face from the breeze. The black top and shorts she wore allowed her skin to breathe in the humid weather. The sun had started to set, and she watched it slowly dip behind the mountains of Tucson, Arizona.
She pulled out her lighter, the cigarette between her lips as she lit it. She took a deep breath and watched the puffs of gray smoke swirled around her. The sound of the busy traffic below kept her mind occupied as she smoked. The deep orange glow from the sun was painted across the sky. Dark streaks of midnight blue pushed it back over the horizon as she blew out more smoke.
It had taken a year and a half for her to fully readjust to the world. It seemed like she had been out of touch in the chaotic reality of ordinary civilians. They had jobs – simpler than her own, and families. A concept she had never considered as an option for herself, not that she remembered it ever being an option at the place she was raised in. They weren't trained to kill or be proficient in several languages. Neither did they have enhanced bodies with abilities that went far beyond the imagination. It would've been a culture shock, had she remembered her past when she had first awoken in the civilian world.
She had slipped up in the beginning. Looking back she would've done things differently, efficiently. But she was naive and it meant having to kill a few less than innocent people to protect her identity. It didn't faze her. Not when it was for the greater good. It was hard for the public to distinguish whether she was a citizen-serving vigilante or just a cold-hearted villain, but the labels that the media pinned on her didn't matter. As long as she could remain faceless and do her work, she was fine – if fine meant severely damaged, with more blood on her hands than she could wipe.
Tess had wondered at what point she would be done with all this. The assignments, the overwhelming amount of money that she let sit in her accounts and the crushing guilt they bore. She didn't feel the guilt of what she had done. The ninety names she had written in her book had all deserved the fate she had mercilessly given them. Rather the question of whether she was the person to decide their fate.
She sighed and tapped the excess ash that had built up at the end of her cigarette.
No one else had offered to take the job, and it was a job that was very much needed in this day and age.
While people continued to replay the videos of an alien wormhole in New York, the world had become a darker place to live in. Crime had increased rapidly in the past two years, with corruption becoming harder to find for the public. But she could see through the deception and lies, which made her methods effective. The 'superheroes' that called themselves Earth's defenders were only useful for world scale catastrophes. What help were they since the word of Satan's Knight had spread?
The phone on the counter buzzed against the glass. She picked it up and unlocked it before reading the message. It was time to start the next assignment. She stubbed the cigarette out on a dish with a sad smile. She had only just begun to enjoy Tucson and its beauty.
It wouldn't take long for her to pack her things and book a flight to Washington. Her change of appearance would only take an hour to complete. She had already arranged the safehouses and the apartment she would use as a front months ago, when she had first received the details of her assignment. Her job at SHIELD had been secured for her to start in a fortnight which she hadn't looked forward to. She had done many high-profile cases for a number of employers, but nothing could come close to this one.
Her mission was clear – track the movements of Steve Rogers and report back. It was a large sum of money, though it wasn't the reason she had accepted it. Most of the money would likely go back into the assignment anyway and the rest would sit on top of the pile that she kept safe. It was a big mission and her instincts had told her to take it, so she did. The amount of money gave her an indication of how wealthy her employer was and how much it was worth to them. In this case: failure to provide results would be life-threatening, to say the least.
She had given herself the name Tess Dixon, years ago. When she had known little about the true reality she lived in and the memories of her past were incoherent and short. She wasn't that pathetic woman she was before. And she wanted to move on from the things that had happened which meant Tess Dixon was ready to die.
It only took a few hours before she passed airport security and got into the plane. She settled in for the ride. She knew she would sleep on the plane - it was the only time she could get some decent shuteye without the need to look over her shoulder. Though she could still never be too careful. Her head rested against the window, her body as far away as possible from the person sat beside her. Her eyes opened and closed as she drifted in and out of sleep and caught glimpses of the plane's wing as it cut through the air and the clouds. The plane rocked gently and the sounds of passengers in the cabin as they walked past and talked turned to silence in her ears. Her skin became icy, the hairs on her arms raised with the goose bumps as her mind lulled her into its dark embrace.
She ran. Barely a breath in her lungs as her boots dug into the snow, step after step. The harsh wind sliced through her skin as her head felt so unnervingly light. She shouldn't have looked back. She knew better than to look back, but her curiosity had gnawed through her fear. Spots of blood trailed her every step. She dropped to her knees and the ice melted into her clothes. She swore quietly and tears formed in her eyes. Her chest heaved as she ripped the undershirt to tie around her wound, the bullet was still inside, and she didn't have the resources or the time to take it out safely. She counted quickly and pushed herself up and started to run again.
"Ma'am?"
Tess jerked slightly as her eyes opened. Her hands instinctively turned into fists as she looked towards the speaker, a flight attendant. The sound in her ear intensified as she tried to calm herself down. The tightness in her chest was an indication that she needed to get away. The flight attendant's words were barely audible to her, but her mind had already lip-read them. Her expression was only of slight concern and a hint of exasperation, most likely not wanting to clean up after a passenger's puke.
"I'm fine." She waved off. The lie slipped off her tongue. "I just – I don't like heights."
"Would you like me to get you anything."
"No, thank you. I'm fine."
When she left, she managed to take a breath. Though it did nothing to calm anything inside her mind or that pressure in her chest. She desperately wanted a smoke to release some of the pressure that built up inside her. She glanced over the cabin before she got up and insincere apologies as she shuffled past the passengers next to her. Her hands grabbed hold of the tops of the seats as she reached the empty bathroom. She locked herself in and tightly held the sink.
"Bailey, Sanderson, Thompson, Guerra, Hernandez," she murmured.
Metal clanged in her ears. The darkness engulfed her in the cramped concrete room she was once locked in. The remnants of the bruises ached as she pulled her small feet to her chest. The smell of blood invaded her nose. She desperately hoped that she would die here and yet feared that she would. Her cold child-sized fingers were numb as they threaded through her hair and gripped the roots tightly. She screamed and waited for her body to become an uncontrollable inferno.
"No." She breathed. She ripped her hands away from her head. She pushed herself back from the bathroom sink and stared at her hands that trembled through blurry eyes. She was petrified that they would set aflame and kill everyone onboard. She looked at herself in the reflection as the dread set in and slowly wiped the blood that had dripped down from her nose.
Her eyes were rings of an amber blaze.
★
"Are you drinking to remember or to forget?"
Tess knew he was going to say something. It was the way he had looked at her and maybe the fact that they had ordered the same drink. She wasn't going to deny that he had some charm. Under normal circumstances, she would've turned him down, but there was some comfort in being able to pull herself back into this new character she had to play. Her mind was still plagued with thoughts of the memories she had on the plane. The fear that sat in the back of her mind, constantly replayed them. So, she didn't mind a little distraction.
She propped her hand under her chin, her head turned towards him with a shy smile. "What's it to you?"
"Nothing." He took a sip of his drink. "I just know how lonely it is to drink alone."
"I'm just enjoying a good drink," she answered. She took the last sip of her drink and raised her hand to the bartender to refill her glass. As she waited for the drink, she assessed the man beside her thoroughly, not that she had to. But it was nice to enjoy the attention he gave her. "What makes you think I'm alone?" She asked, offended at his assumption.
"You don't look like you're waiting on anyone and it would be a tragedy if someone stood up a beautiful lady like you."
She let out a light chuckle. "Let me guess," she put a finger to her lips in thought. "The noble hero looking out for the hopeless damsel."
"I never said you were hopeless." They both smiled at each other.
"Iran?" She asked seriously after a moments pause. His gaze on her while she nursed her drink.
"Afghanistan." He looked at her intently. "How'd you know?"
"My sister was in the Marines." She stared at her hands around the drink before she looked back at him with a forced smile. The mood shifted and she could see his apology form in his head. "It become easier to tell," she explained.
"I'm sorry." He gave her a look to comfort her. He had taken in her lies as quickly as he heard them.
"It's okay." She nodded to accept his apology for her fictional sister's death.
She glanced around the bar. If she wanted a real distraction, she would've gone to the guy sat on the far end. That guy had enough one night stands to know that she would be gone before he could realize, she was ever there and not have a care. But this guy... It seemed almost immoral to lead him on. She silently scoffed at herself. She barely gave another thought to someone else's feelings.
"What about you?"
She snorted at his question. When he darted his eyes at her in confusion she answered with a wry smile. "Oh, I didn't serve. My parents didn't want to lose another daughter. I'm more of a tech person anyway," she said conversationally.
"What kind of tech?"
"That's classified," she said lowly. Tess finished her drink before she shrugged on her jacket. She paid for her drinks and tipped the bartender. She paused slightly and looked towards the man she had been talking to. "Thank you for your sacrifice." He only nodded in response.
She was unsure if her words would affect him in any way and she hoped that he understood her good intentions behind them. It was too late to retract them anyway, she thought. She walked away, the sounds of his steps behind her a few moments later. So, he was going to follow her out.
He wasn't a threat to her, that's what her assessment had told her. Though she reassured herself that even if her assessment was wrong (though it rarely was), she could lead him to the next alley over and take care of the situation quietly. No police units were stationed in the area and she had enough tactical equipment to secure the area from any eyewitnesses. It wasn't something she wanted to do, but if the situation called for it then she was more than willing to use her abilities.
"I didn't get your name." He called after her.
Men had chased after her like this before and it hadn't ended well for them, but this was different. It wasn't a hopeless romantic dead end. Something in her told her that this would be worthwhile. Perhaps she could use him to her advantage.
She stopped in her step and faced him. "I didn't get yours."
He bit back a smile, shrugging his hands into his jacket. "Wilson. Sam Wilson."
"Well, it was nice to meet you, Wilson. Will I be seeing you around?"
"I work at the VA if you're ever in the area."
"I'll make sure to stop by," she promised. A tad more cheerful than she had expected.
She turned back and walked away from him. His eyes on her back as she took slow, casual steps in the opposite direction from her temporary apartment. She had to make sure that the perimeter was secure before she could get some shuteye.
Tess looked back at him. "Hey, Sam?" He was still stood outside the bar. "It's Tess."
He nodded back with a warm smile.