The night sky over Washington, D.C. was a deep, inky blue, scattered with countless stars. From the bridge outside the cave, the city's lights glimmered brightly below. If one climbed higher up the mountain, they could even see the Triskelion across the bay, its massive silhouette outlined by lights.
Alexander Pierce would never have imagined that the very people he most wanted eliminated were hiding so close to him—just as Nick Fury had never imagined that Pierce had been nurturing HYDRA right under his nose.
They were each other's most familiar enemies… and yet, in another sense, the most unfamiliar of allies.
-----
Clara tossed and turned on her bed, utterly unable to fall asleep. She wasn't so carefree that she could shrug off having guns pointed at her head earlier and pretend nothing had happened.
Judging by the quiet outside, she wasn't the only one awake.
Steve had stepped out of the cave, gazing up at the stars.
"It gets cold in the mountains at night," he said when he noticed Clara sneaking out. "Remember to bring a jacket next time."
He handed her his own coat.
"Aren't you cold, Steve?" Clara asked.
Inside the cave she hadn't felt much, but out here, with the mountain wind cutting through the air, it was genuinely chilly.
"With my physiology," Steve replied lightly, "I wouldn't freeze even on an ice field."
"That's pretty great," Clara said seriously. "You don't need to wear those thick, puffy winter coats, and you don't have to bundle yourself up like a ball when you go out."
Steve smiled, reached out, and gently ruffled her hair. Then he turned his gaze toward the distant sky glowing with city lights.
"That assassin… was he really the Bucky Barnes from the museum?" Clara asked quietly. "Could it just be someone who looks like him?"
She thought of the man known as the Winter Soldier. If HYDRA had turned him into a weapon, then tomorrow, he would definitely stand in Steve's way.
"It's Bucky," Steve said softly. "I won't mistake him. No one else would use my shield like that. Back then, Bucky was the one who trained with me."
He lowered his head, pain clearly written across his face.
Bucky had once promised to stay by his side until the very end. Yet he had fallen halfway through the journey. And now, when they finally met again, Bucky didn't remember him at all.
"Tell me about the two of you," Clara said, leaning against the railing and tilting her head to look at him. Her eyes sparkled, reflecting the starlight above. "You've told a lot of war stories before, but you never really talked about him."
Steve was still terrible at storytelling. A tale of brotherhood came out of his mouth as plainly as a mission report. And yet, Clara could hear it—the kind of loyalty where people would willingly take a bullet for each other.
It was something worth envying.
After a moment, Clara asked softly, "Tomorrow… if he appears, will you be able to fight him?"
"I… I don't know," Steve admitted, shaking his head.
Asking him to strike down his closest friend from the past—he wasn't sure he could do it.
"You have to," Clara said firmly. "Steve, you have to defeat the Winter Soldier."
"You think… I should give up on Bucky?" Steve asked, a bitter smile tugging at his lips.
"If you fail, how many people will die? You know the answer better than anyone," Clara said seriously. "So anyone who stands in your way has to be stopped. But… you can defeat the Winter Soldier and bring Bucky Barnes back. Maybe he's lost his memory. Maybe he's been brainwashed. If you don't bring him back, how will he ever remember who you are?"
She lifted her chin, her clear black-and-white eyes filled with determination.
Steve froze for a moment—then let out a relieved laugh.
Once again, he'd been taught a lesson by Clara.
"Alright, little housekeeper," he said warmly. "Go back to sleep. Tomorrow's going to be a very early day."
Clara took a few steps, then suddenly turned back.
"Steve! Tomorrow, you have to bring those Helicarriers down. Otherwise… you and Iron Man will be the first ones targeted."
Steve paused, then nodded solemnly.
"I will succeed tomorrow. I swear it on my honor."
-----
As Clara passed Fury's room, she was stopped. Fury lay in bed, his dark face ashen, completely drained of color.
"You look nervous," Fury said.
"A little," Clara replied, sitting up straight, her posture stiff—like a student being questioned by a teacher.
"Relax, kid. None of us are sleeping anyway. Keep an old man company for a bit."
"You don't look old at all," Clara said politely.
"That's just appearances. I'm old enough to be your grandfather and then some."
They had a generation-wide gap between them. There really wasn't much to talk about. They just sat there, staring at each other.
Well—Fury was lying down.
After a long silence, Fury suddenly asked, "Do you hate your father?"
Clara blinked. "What did you just say?"
"Tony Stark," Fury clarified.
"You… know?"
"Of course. Stark is one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s top monitored individuals. I know everything about him."
"Everything?" Clara raised an eyebrow. "Including what he eats for lunch?"
"…I'm not that bored," Fury muttered.
"Do the others in S.H.I.E.L.D. know too?" Clara asked quietly.
She didn't want this to become public knowledge—but more and more people seemed to know already.
"Don't worry. Only the few agents responsible for Stark know. They can keep their mouths shut."
"What did you investigate about me?" Clara asked.
"Everything."
Clara thought about it. She hadn't done anything strange—if she had, S.H.I.E.L.D. would've come knocking long ago. So it was probably just standard procedure.
Still… it annoyed her.
"It's annoying, right?" Fury said, reading her expression. "You can say it. I'm used to being hated. In this line of work, you can't expect people to like you. So—do you hate Stark? After all, he ignored you and your mother for so many years."
Since agreeing to Steve's plan to dismantle S.H.I.E.L.D., Fury seemed different—less sharp, as though he'd finally set down a crushing burden.
To be honest, what Clara inherited from the original Clara was memory, not emotion.
Just as she hadn't felt overwhelming grief over Laura's death, she wasn't sure what the original Clara had felt toward Tony Stark.
"I don't know," she said honestly. "At first, I wrote to him just to get help. And he did give me protection. If you take money out of the equation, a father is… kind of optional to me. But during the Battle of New York last year, I really did feel proud of him. I guess… I see him as a superhero I'm connected to, not really as a father."
That was the truth—admiration, not familial love.
"What if he never makes your relationship public?" Fury asked.
"It doesn't matter," Clara replied calmly. "Once I graduate from college and find a job, I'll move out. After all, my last name is Johnson, not Stark."
The night grew deeper. Before long, Clara was yawning nonstop, and Fury let her go back to sleep.
Fury had been right—he knew everything about Clara, including her true relationship with Stark.
But he chose not to interfere.
What decision Stark made in the end was his own business. Fury was just an outsider.
He only hoped that when Clara eventually learned the whole truth… it wouldn't turn into resentment.
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