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"Tell me about the shooter." I demanded choking back a dry cough from traveling up my raw throat, shrugging off Steve's stabilizing hand as my eyes immediately locked onto an unconscious Fury; only greeted by two heads whipping around to face me.
"Didn't expect you to be up and walking." Maria smirked clearly taken off guard by my resiliency.
"The shooter." I reiterated padding closer towards the large panel of glass as I felt Steve's presence a mere inches behind me; the soldier finding himself confused by what seemed to be accelerated healing.
"He's fast. Strong." Steve began as his deep, unsure tone alerted me that this was no ordinary shooter; the way is voice vibrated throughout the room warned me that whatever this was, wasn't going to end well. "Had a metal arm." He finished as vivid images of the mysterious enemy replayed in front of his eyes drowning in uncertainty; with both Natasha and I whipping are heads around to face him, looking to each other momentarily confused by our shared knowledge on the subject.
"Ballistics." Natasha inquired in a stern tone.
"Three slugs, no rifling. Completely untraceable." Maria vaguely explained as my ears perked up at her statement.
"Soviet made." I concluded as Maria found herself out of the loop once again.
"Yeah." She drawled out as her eyes flickered at my immediate response.
Unfortunately, our informal briefing was abruptly interrupted as the piercing sound of frantic beeping filled the dull, dimly lit room, alerting the occupants. My eyes intensely narrowed towards the hustling surgeons now wheeling in the crash cart as a scorching heat singed a whole in my chest. Everything around me played in slow motion as the surgeons words rang in my ears like a mantra, briefly catching Natasha murmuring amongst herself. My deep, brown eyes held their gaze as the doctors removed their medical instruments and the simple words, time of death, seared my pounding ears; my hands almost involuntarily clawing at them.
"Was this after the car wreck?" I implored turning to face Steve's contoured face washed with guilt and rage, his mannerisms trying to remind me of the situation at hand.
"What?" He choked out as his eyes momentarily flickered, looking at with with pure disgust as his brows knit themselves into confusion.
"What don't I know?" I continued trying to sterilize my body of any to all emotion, this was not the time to have a mental breakdown. Fury would've wanted me to be strong, to finish this, to kill the damn bastard. "Someone better tell me what fucking happened or so help me god-" I gritted through my teeth as my posture stiffened not even realizing my fists were tightly clinched, Steve's attentive eyes noticing the pressurized white forming on my knuckles.
"Yea Rogers, why was Fury in your apartment?" Natasha added tilting her chin upwards towards the soldier who's expression was a dead giveaway that he was hiding something.
"I don't know." He forced out of his lips trying to look just as lost as Natasha and I were, his words going in one ear and out the other; due to the evident lack of confidence which resembled a toddler trying to escape the limelight of confrontation.
Steve Rogers was many things, a soldier, war hero, America's symbol for hope and freedom, but one thing that he wasn't was a liar. The simplest of tasks could never be achieved by the super soldier.
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Standing deathly still, my eyes didn't stray from the lifeless body of Nicholas J. Fury. My mind relentlessly tried to convince me that this was all an elegant scheme, that it wasn't true, it couldn't be; but then I was quickly reminded of my shitty reality. Allowing my thoughts to momentarily distract me, vibrant memories flashed in front of my eyes like a movie; every detail, every sound, every feeling almost convincing me that it was real.
I can't, played like a mantra overlapping memories surging in and out of focus as a bolstering, confident voice repeating the words, yes you can, spoke louder than every distraction. Fury made me who I am today, he's the one who raised me when I was left blindsided, who fought for me, who protected me with his own life, even after my foolish decisions, he's the one who made Luna Fitzgerald, well, Luna Fitzgerald. Everything I knew was Fury, every memory was Fury, every decision I made I was able to make because of him. Fury was my family, he was the only one who could see through my tough, bruiting, exterior, and simply saw me, he was all I had. Nicholas J. Fury was my everything.
"We need to take him." Maria spoke softly to Steve hoping her steady, yet shallow, breaths would keep her tears at bay.
"Okay." Steve's concerned expression intensified when he noticed how my shoulders shakily rose and fell, indicating that I was crying, yet no sound broke the barrier of silence. His heart ached for the woman, who's menacing, emotionless, exterior even prevented her from mourning over her father-like figure. As long as Steve knew Fury, Luna was never far from him side; in fact, that's how Steve became acquainted with the agent. Even in the way Fury spoke about the agent indicated the chemistry, the history, between the two; or in the way he unhesitatingly placed all of his rarely given confidence in her. He'd never seen a stronger bond between two individuals who rarely showcased true emotions towards another. Their relationship didn't need words of affirmation, they just knew. "Luna." Steve spoke in a sympathetic, hushed tone placing a featherlight tap on my shoulder.
As soon as my body felt the sudden presence of pressure atop my shoulder, I hastily fled the room without giving a speck of attention to Steve; discretely wiping the salty droplets from my raw eyes.
"Luna." Steve called out as I whipped my head around to face him, tilting my chin up towards the soldier asking him to get the hell on with it.
"Why was Fury at your apartment?" I asked once again as he stood with the same, forced expression anxiously sticking his hands into his pockets as a defense mechanism.
"I don't know." He anxiously breathed out raising both his brows briefly, his expression screaming, yes I do but I can't tell you.
"You're a terrible liar, Rogers." I acknowledged with a slight chuckle rolling of the tip of my tongue, disapprovingly shaking my head towards his failed efforts. Was it really that hard?
"Roger! Fitzgerald! Your needed back at HQ." Rumlow urgently called out in a husky voice from across the monotone halls, motioning for us to join him immediately; pleasantly contrasting against the heavy, mournful mood looming over the space.
"One second." Steve countered looking over his shoulder at the brute man cladded in black, returning his attention to my now amused expression; the agitation fresh on his tongue seemed to strike my funny bone.
"They want you now." Rumlow firmly reiterated as his delivery became noticeably more irritated and pressing; causing my head to tilt in suspicion towards the group of assholes SHIELD loved so.
"Okay." Steve deadpanned trying to sterilize irritation from his tone as his thoughts seemed to travel elsewhere; the brief flicker in his classic blue eyes not going without notice, he was thinking of doing something, but what? Moments after the brief exchange, the soldier motioned with his extended arm for me to join the STRIKE force.
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Heyyyyy yallll, so it's still kinda slow but I'm trying to develop everything at a slower pace so I'm not throwing things at you abruptly left and right; ya feel me???? Also, I'll be diving in a bit deeper on Fury and Luna's relationship, and why stuff like and "foolish decisions" plays an important role👀👀👀
