[OOM] Franche-Comté

[from_the_outside]

There is a small town near the river Loue.

It is notable largely for it's museum (quite a collection of Courbet, for those who enjoy the Realist movement of the 19th century) and its situation near the river Loue: a small village, out of the way of modern-day life and all its hustle and bustle. It's a quiet town, ideal for a few days away from the city, perfect for a mini-break for any homesick American away from the ocean, kept from the slow shuffle of the ocean.

It's the eighth town like it in almost as many months. Small, quiet, out of the way. Perfect for a mini-break.

Or a hideout.

In the clear morning light, it seems impossible to think of this town as anything other than wholesome, friendly: Sharon walks through a small market and smiles at the vendor who sells her a small loaf of fresh bread and some cheese to eat it with, and imagines his stall burning, his wife screaming. She walks along the river, and pictures a town leveled, cars flung on their sides, smoking craters where the road should be.

He hasn't resurfaced. Not yet. No one has been hurt.

That doesn't mean no one will.

Her purview is not to hunt down and apprehend the Winter Soldier, of course.

But that doesn't mean she can't travel, on her free weekends. It's only natural: she's young, single, at a dream posting in Europe.

And it's only natural to ask around the towns she visits, around the museums and markets, for any other Americans who might be in town.

Ex-pats have to stick together, after all.

Comments

[nerves_of_ice]

So that's it. He should have known.

Weary disappointment shows through in his expression, in his eyes -- along with a hint of anger.

"Give up, Agent Carter. I won't work for you. Or your хуёый task force. I don't do that any more."

He meets her gaze without evasion.

"I've killed too many innocents."

[from_the_outside]

"Oh, for fuck's sake."

He might be angry, but she's just exasperated, eyes rolling to the ceiling, before meeting his again. "Why the hell would I want you to work for me? In what possible world would that be a good idea? No one wants that. There's no chance you could ever work for us, are you kidding? My boss wants you put in a jail so deep you never see the light of day again."

Jesus Christ, save her arrogant men.





"My point was only that there's no way I wouldn't be interested in what you're doing or planning on doing, Sergeant Barnes."

She can be just as pointed with a rank and name as he can, after all. "I am not trying to recruit you, because that would be insane. And counterproductive. And a waste of my time and yours."

[nerves_of_ice]

He openly scoffs at her.

"Get real. You know how this works. The second I was in that jail, I'd vanish into some secret room or another, where your boss or their boss would offer the first deal. As long as I cooperated, that is. Helped rid them of their inconvenient problems."

"And of course, when I didn't --"

(stubborn)

(he struggles)

His lip curls back in disgust, and the look he turns on her is near-feral.

[from_the_outside]

"Yeah, I bet that'll go over real well with the taxpayers, when the most recognizable assassin in the world starts working for the good old U.S. of A. And for sure the Avengers would be cool with it, right? It's not like they have anyone on their roster who might give a shit about what you're doing, for who, and they definitely never seem to get their hands on classified government intelligence."

His scoffing at her isn't worrying, but the look he turns on her after a second's pause is: the glare of a rabid animal caught in a trap and ready to bite the hand that tries to free it.

The problem is, there's no good way to prove anything she's saying: he'd have to trust her, and that's not going to happen anytime soon. If ever.

"But I'm not turning you in. I'm not recruiting you. If I wanted to make that call, I could have done it ten minutes ago. I could have had this place swarming with agents. But I didn't."

She holds her hands up: empty. Maybe not harmless, exactly, but empty. "I just want to make sure you're not planning on killing any more innocents."

[nerves_of_ice]

He shakes his head, but doesn't argue further. She believes what she's saying, it's clear. Why should he be the one to disillusion her?

(Besides which, the thought of Steve being faced with such a betrayal - again - is too sickening to contemplate.)

"You came looking for me. By yourself. Without backup. To ask--"

A long, long silence.

"No. No more innocents."

He takes a step toward her, his focus intent.

"So I guess the next question is, do you believe me?"

[from_the_outside]

Does she?








Steve would. Aunt Peggy might. Nat might.

Steve and Aunt Peggy and Nat all know this guy a hell of a lot better than she does, and Sharon – well, she's always been kind of a skeptical person.

"I believe that you believe it."

Hey, that's almost like believing him.

There's a wry slant to her mouth that's fighting to turn into a fullblown frown, nut it's not aimed at him.



..Okay, it's like, a good seventy percent not aimed at him. But it's a start. "I'm not exactly used to taking things on faith...but I'd guess you aren't, either."

[nerves_of_ice]

"Taking things on faith's a good way to get killed."

He says it the way another person might note that the sky is blue, or water is wet - a fact so clear there's no doubt of its truth. The look he's giving her, though, is speculative.

"Out of curiosity, what were you planning to do after you found me?"

[from_the_outside]

That's the question, isn't it?

The one with the answer even she thinks is nuclear levels of dumb. The one even Captain America himself might go so far as to call a hair optimistic.

(Only the answer they've arrived at, though. In the grand scheme of choose-your-own adventures, most of the previous paths she could have taken and choices she could have made would have ended in her own gruesome and untimely demise.)

"Well, you're not on a killing spree for Hydra," which checks one option off the list. "And you don't seem to be interested in making amends with your old buddies from SHIELD --"

Which is probably for the best. "Which means you're just trying to stay under the radar, which I can respect --"

Honestly, there are days when disappearing into the workings of the everyday world just sounds so much more relaxing than getting shot at or blown up. "So -- Talk. Is what I was planning to do. Which we're doing. So I guess I can check that one off the old to-do list."

Except talking is a waste of his time and hers. He's right -- no one comes after him, alone, without back-up, without reason.

Which brings her back to her first thought, that this is a dumb answer and maybe she should have spent a few more months trying to figure out a better one before actually finding the goddamn Winter Soldier here in bucolic France.

Her finger taps, annoyed, against her arm. "I thought, if you weren't back to your old murdering ways, you could use a hand."

It's a second before she glances at the metal glimmering at his left side. "So to speak."

[nerves_of_ice]

"Ha, ha."

He's scrutinizing her with unnerving closeness.

"And yet you already said you didn't want me to work for you, so..."

A single beat of silence hangs between them.

"What exactly do you mean, a hand?"

[from_the_outside]

So much for building a sense of trust and camaraderie through humor. Thanks for nothing, How to Make Friends and Influence People.

"That depends on what you're up to. I can offer a few recommendations for your stay here -- there's a cheese shop that's out of this world, honestly -- but somehow I don't think you're here just for the relaxing country air and charming hamlets."

She knows what a mission looks like when she sees one, what an agent looks like when they're on one, and he is. Does. Isn't here for shits and giggles. Isn't just lying low, blending into the native crowd, disappearing. he didn't have to meet her, he could have given her the slip at any time before now.

Which means he wanted to be sure of something about her.

"You might not be on a mission from HYDRA, but that doesn't mean you don't have something you're trying to do here."

[nerves_of_ice]

He's silent for several long moments, considering.

"Answer me this. Why did you pick Franche-Comté? Why did you decide to look for me here? Random chance, or something else?"

[from_the_outside]

She sucks at her teeth a second, wanting to cross her arms. To throw a smokebomb and ninja her way out the window, never to be seen again. To shout look! aliens! and make a run for it.

To be anywhere but here, trying to make up favors owed by someone else.

He's not her old pal from the Army. "Supply chains."



Two words that cover weeks of research. Franche-Comté is a charming town...in the middle of an industrial zone. And she's been tracking him long enough to know he's hit a few other places just like it.

Supply chains. There are too many trucks leaving the warehouses here for what the manufacturers' books say they make.

[nerves_of_ice]

An appreciative flicker lights his glance for a moment as he appraises her with sharp interest.

"Very impressive, Agent 13."

And something he'll remember. She's not the only one who's been looking for him, after all.

"And if I were to tell you I knew why those ... discrepancies... existed?"

[from_the_outside]

There's a flash in his expression that lets her know she's right, and the corners of her mouth tug a little, pleased.

"Then I'd be all ears, Sergeant Barnes."

[nerves_of_ice]

It's a gamble, but hell, so is this whole conversation.

"Illegal weapons manufacture."

His tone is absolutely flat, and it's clear that he's waiting for her reaction.

[from_the_outside]

"Really."

She absorbs this for a moment, eyebrows lifting faintly.

"That sounds like the sort of thing that should really be shut down."

[nerves_of_ice]

"Your ... superiors... wouldn't approve."

[from_the_outside]

"You always did only what your superiors approved of, huh?"

In many ways, her superiors would approve.

Just not of her companion.

Or his methods.

Or her being out here to begin with.

(It's the mission that counts.)

[nerves_of_ice]

The look he gives her at that is distinctly unamused.

"I know what I'm going to do. The question is, what are you going to do?"

[from_the_outside]

She lifts her chin, just faintly.

It's an old tic of hers. One she picked up long ago, so long ago she no longer notices she'd started using it, or who she was emulating when she does.

(It might look familiar to the man across the room from her.)

"Lend a hand."

[nerves_of_ice]

He shakes his head, once, but the expression in his eyes has turned thoughtful.

"You're as stubborn as--"

He breaks off there.

[from_the_outside]

"And then some."

It doesn't matter who or what he'd been about to compare her to. It's true regardless. "But I'm handy in a pinch."

And then some.

[nerves_of_ice]

He watches her in silence for a few moments.

"What are your skills?"

He's heard of Agent 13, but what's more important here and now is how Sharon Carter answers the question.

[from_the_outside]

"Oh, your run-of-the-mill SHIELD special agent material."

Breezy. "Various martial arts, incendiaries, a whole bunch of languages. Good with computers, guns, and people. Not to mention my winning personality."

She's won a few hamburger eating contests, too, but it just doesn't seem like he'll be as impressed by that as it deserves. "I could list it all out, but who's got the time? Let me put it this way...

"I was Captain America's security detail. So what do you think that means?"

[nerves_of_ice]

"Better than most. And..."

He considers her coolly.

"... Director Fury trusted you."

Which says a lot, all things considered. A beat.

"I'm game if you are."

How this goes will answer the other questions he needs to know about her. Most of them, anyway.