✸ Chapter Twenty-Four: Not Delivered
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𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝘼𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙍 𝙏𝙀𝙀𝙉 𝙈𝙊𝙑𝙄𝙀.
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𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑: Not Delivered
𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ─ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋
𝟐𝟑 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐄 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟔
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Lizzie never expected to find herself standing in the other room from the famous, and now-infamous, Bucky Barnes—but she'd come to realize that there are certain things that one can never be prepared for, and that happened to be one of those situations. The events at the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre ended when Steve drowned an entire helicopter (and himself) into the water just below. Peculiarly similar to their last interaction in 2013, except it was Steve pulling Bucky out of the wreckage that time. Sam and Lizzie soon met up with the two in an abandoned work mill, carefully chosen by Carson. Her and Sharon were still at the facility—pretending they knew nothing—while Lizzie let the gravity of the last few hours settle in.
"You shouldn't be here," Sam said to break the silence, looking over at Lizzie as she stretched out her limbs against a fallen locker. "Our names are on the news, MJ. Fugitives. If the CIA or General Ross, or whoever in the damn-hell is after us finds out you're with us, you're wanted too."
Lizzie weighed those options already. Long before anyone else had to say anything—long before a decision had to be made. The worst case scenario regarding the Sokovia Accords ended worse than she could have ever imagined. She prepared for disagreement, but what she didn't prepare for was a full-blown war between Steve Rogers and the government. Not again. Not when the last time she'd watched Steve's face light up the media, it was when HYDRA had a hit out on him. Everything felt the same as it did in 2013.
Everything except her.
She stood back up to full height. "I know the cost of this, Sam, and sitting by and doing nothing...letting the people I love do this without me being there to help...I do this, and I can't be upset with the consequences because I know I tried everything I could. Whatever happens, I'll live with it because I tried."
Sam watched her for a few seconds, and she clenched her jaw at the obvious analysis he was conducting. One thing she'd learned throughout the years of training was that she hated when any of them tried to read her—that had always been her talent, and when it was used against her, she did her best to block it out completely. His years at the VA collected enough knowledge on PTSD symptoms that he could tell you his own, but right now, all of his focus was on the ones Lizzie showed. The ones she couldn't hide behind a tough exterior.
"You can't change what happened that day, Lizzie. You can't correct it in your work now. You'll get through enough good days to realize the bad ones don't leave you. If you go into things with that headspace, your end-goal becomes about winning...fixing something that can't be fixed. Not about helping people...I've seen a lot of guys get lost trying to right wrongs that are impossible to achieve."
Whether the words struck a cord or not with Lizzie, Sam couldn't tell. She didn't give anything away in her actions that time, but her silence was taken as understanding from him. Through it all, she kept her brown eyes on his, allowing him to see the way she processed his advice. Sam let up on the tense moment and gave her a gentle smile, nudging her shoulder and crossing his arms over his chest.
"You're gonna get a lot more of that from more than just me, Baby Carter."
"Hm, you're not the first," she muttered lightheartedly, but it didn't match her energy. She gave Sam a grateful smile, nodding. "Thank you...I guess Carson's kind-of lucky to have you."
"Tell her that. Maybe it'll clear some things off the list—"
"—what is the list? You can't keep talking about it and expect me not to—Sam."
"What?" Sam's question was answered when he turned in Lizzie's direction to see that their current hostage situation had woken up. "Hey, Cap!"
Instead of waiting for Steve and Sam like she should have, Lizzie walked into the room by herself. Her thick boots scuffled against the cement ground, making the man connected to the machinery by his metal arm look up. Her jaw clenched, watching him assess her from head-to-toe just as Sam did a few minutes ago. Only, this time, he could read nothing from her. Obvious confusion came from him at her presence, not that she could blame him, since she would probably be confused if her first sight waking up in an empty room was a teenager. The confusion was more than that, though. He recognized her.
The moment between the two was cut short when a body stepped in front of her, blocking a portion of her view. Steve. Lizzie couldn't stop her eyes from rolling, which was caught by Bucky, as she stepped over to the side to see clearly again. The familiar, paternal secondnature of his supposed friend had Bucky even more confused. Bucky's attention caught on the man in front of the teenager and stayed there.
"Steve."
That was not enough for Steve, not after what they had been through in the last twenty-four hours. "Which Bucky am I talking to?"
"Your mom's name was Sarah..." there was a long pause as memories resurfaced, one in particular causing a small chuckle to escape Bucky's throat. "You used to wear newspapers in your shoes."
"Can't read that in a museum."
Sam, standing a few feet away, turned to Steve in disbelief. "Just like that, we're supposed to be cool?"
The unspoken connotation that Sam's question gave made Bucky's face fall, realizing. If he tried, he might have been able to access the locked memories of his time under, but something in him focused again on the teenage girl standing behind Steve instead. His blue eyes flickered down to her neck, a burning sensation in his own when he noticed the apparent red marks. He knew he was responsible. She'd tried to hide it by zipping her jacket up, but there were certain bruises that couldn't be hidden.
Eyes stuck on that, the teenage girl noticed the attention on her and pulled her braided hair over as much as possible. "What did I do?"
Steve was the one to reply. He'd not been blind to the grief taking over Bucky's face at the sight of Lizzie's throat, but she wasn't the only one who had bruises from the fight with the Winter Soldier. Regardless of who he was in that moment, a surge of frustration over not being able to help Lizzie overtook Steve. His blue eyes flickered down to Lizzie's much smaller frame to see her look back up at him with a frown, then he turned back to Bucky.
"Enough."
"Oh, God..." were muttered under his breath, as he fell back into himself. Lizzie watched him curiously, her head tilting, but for the first time in her life, she chose to stay silent. "I knew this would happen. Everything HYDRA put inside me is still there. All he had to do was say the goddamn words."
"Who was he?"
"I don't know."
"People are dead," Steve said, matter-of-factly. "The bombing, the set-up...the doctor did all of that just to get ten minutes with you. I need you to do better than 'I don't know.'"
Bucky stayed quiet for a few moments, clearly lost in his own head as he tried to grapple on any viable information to help out Steve. "He wanted to know about Siberia...where I was kept. He wanted to know exactly where."
"Why would he need to know that?"
"Because I'm not the only Winter Soldier."
A sharp inhale was heard from Lizzie, but Sam did not have the same quiet response. "What do you mean you're 'not the only Winter Soldier'?"
"Others were created...after me."
Steve could feel the eyes on him from his team. "Who were they?"
"Their most elite death squad. More kills than anyone in HYDRA history...and that was before the serum."
"They all turn out like you?"
"Worse."
"The doctor—could he control them?"
"Enough."
Steve frowned, recalling the man's words. "Said he wanted to see an empire fall."
"With these guys he could do it. They speak thirty languages, can hide in plain sight, infiltrate, assassinate, destabilize...they can take a whole country down in one night. You'd never see them coming."
That was enough. The moment Sam stepped over to Steve to talk with him about the newfound information, Lizzie swiftly backed out of the room and made a B-Line for the door to find fresh air. Her feet moved fast, and she could hear them on the ground, but she was unable to focus on that sound any longer when she stepped outside of the work mill and into the daylight. Every sense was on high alert. Her body curled into itself, hands going to her knees as she hunched over to ease the feeling in her chest—the one where she felt like she was dying.
Lizzie eventually collapsed onto the ground, sitting with her back to the metal door, deciding that whatever conversation happening in there would be best left without her in it. Steve would come get her when he was ready, as much as he hated it, there was no stopping now. Glancing down at her hands, she couldn't help but scoff at the purple nail polish chipped from heavy abuse. Was it the softball games or the hand-to-hand with the Winter Soldier?
That question alone summed up the split of Lizzie Carter's life, and just how hard it was becoming to exist as the same person in two incredibly different worlds.
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𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐄𝐍𝐒, 𝐍𝐘𝐂 ─ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓
Peter chewed at his nails anxiously, pacing back and forth as he glanced at his phone. The text message that he'd sent to Lizzie Carter ten minutes ago went undelivered, and he'd long-since come up with a number of reasons why she may be busy. Ned, naturally, was already in a ten-text message chain response attempting to tell Peter to "get his shit together" while simultaneously updating him on all-things Avengers. A bombing of the United Nations, seas away from anything Spider-Man could help with, but enough to stop the world when the Winter Soldier was sighted leaving...and then, suddenly, the faces of Captain America and the Falcon were blasted over every news media outlet.
A long, very long debate was had between Art and Ned during the Decathlon Team "Auditions" happening at school that day. Peter wasn't all that surprised to see Art, Lizzie's friend, there, but he was surprised that she wasn't. Art's face fell when Ned asked where she was, mumbling something between his affection for Captain America and Spider-Man (Peter tried not to let that fuel his head, too distracted) about Lizzie's aunt passing away—the same aunt that Lizzie opened up to him about one day while studying—and Peter suddenly hated being an empathetic person.
He wasn't sure why texting Lizzie stressed him ou—no, that was a lie. He definitely knew. The simple "Hey, just checking in on you?" text glared back at him with no delivery underneath it—with it, Peter started to spiral down a route of self-doubt. Why would someone as popular as Lizzie Carter still want to be friends with him? Their group project was over. Sure, they had become friends along the way, but was that just school partnership? Required? Maybe she'd blocked him. The thoughts dwelled on him, along with a nagging feeling in the pit of his gut that something was not entirely okay with the girl. As if he knew her well enough to tell that over an unanswered text message.
He huffed in frustration, changing the song blaring through his headphones as he walked to his and May's apartment. Fumbling with the keys for a moment, he kept his eyes on his phone as he texted Ned back, making his way inside. "Hey, May."
"Hey, how was the meeting at school today?"
"It was okay," he said, pursing his lips as he set down his backpack. "Only a few people showed up. Ned and another guy from the club, Art, might come over this weekend. Art said he got the Lego death star... I thought Lizzie might show up to the meeting, but she didn't. Hey, did you see the crazy car parked outside—"
Peter stopped dead in his tracks, the casual conversation he had everyday with his aunt suddenly feeling very personal when he noticed the stranger sitting next to Aunt May. Well, not a stranger. Sitting on the couch next to his aunt was Tony Stark. "Hello, Peter."
Surely, he was dreaming. Hallucinating. Iron Man was not sitting on his couch. In his living room. With his aunt.
"What're you—hey, um—I'm...um...I'm Peter."
The older man only seemed amused by the boy's nerves. "Tony."
He wasn't hallucinating. Iron Man was in his living room.
"What're you...what're you—what are you doing here?"
His mind went immediately to all of his worst fears coming to light. Like the little suit he had hidden in his bedroom? Yeah, Peter had a feeling that might be somehow involved in the visit from a LITERAL AVENGER! in his apartment.
"Thought it was about time we met," Tony said, ever-so-casually, like he had known both Parkers for years. "You've been getting my emails, right?"
The obvious winking made Peter smile nervously at his aunt, realizing that he needed to be playing along to whatever story was being told. "Yeah....regarding the..."
"You didn't tell me about the grant," Aunt May interjected with suspicion, raising her eyebrows at him like he'd forgotten to tell her he'd won a presidency. Well, to be fair, Peter did tell May everything—
"About the grant! Yeah, the...um..."
"The September foundation," Tony explained for him, making Peter nod instantly in agreement. The looks were now getting more intense from Tony Stark, and Peter could feel his mouth drying as the nerves rattled his body. "Remember when you applied?"
"...yeah."
No.
"I approved, so now we're in business."
Aunt May, once again, waved her hands at him in upset. "You didn't tell me any of that. What, we're keeping secrets now?"
There's worse ones. So maybe he didn't tell May everything.
"I just...uh, I know how much you love surprises, so I thought I would let you know..." he trailed off, hands going behind his back to keep from flailing them around. Peter turned back to Tony, still trying to wrap his head around the current conversation. "Anyway, what did I...uh, apply for?"
"That's what I'm here to hash out—"
Peter's brows shot up as Tony spoke. "Hash out? Oh...okay. Hash out. Okay."
"It's so hard for me to believe that she's someone's aunt."
Aunt May looked flattered at the compliment from Tony. "Well...we come in all shapes and sizes, you know."
"Your walnut-date loaf is exceptional..."
Peter wanted to throw up. All over the place. Eyes darting back and forth between them, he tried to dispel the weird adult tension by putting himself back in the conversation. "Hold on, wait—is this...grant got like money involved...or? Whatever...no..."
"Yeah, it's pretty well-funded. Look who you're talking to," Tony Stark said, as if Peter wasn't aware that he was currently talking to Tony Stark. The man turned to May, muttering. "Can I have five minutes with him?"
"Sure."
A moment later, the two of them were in Peter Parker's room as he tried to digest the presence of his childhood hero in front of him. Tony immediately spit out the date-loaf he had just been complimenting, though Peter didn't blame him, and he awkwardly tried to find a place in his small bedroom to throw it. Tony locked the door, and immediately his eyes started to scan the room, noticing all of the computer and tech laid out on his desk.
Tony's amusement over the situation was getting the better of him, and he couldn't help but ask: "So, who's Lizzie?"
"What?" Peter asked with wide eyes, that being the last question he'd thought would come out of Tony Stark's mouth. "No one. Well, not one...we were, um, partners this year for a final project—it was a plant, we named it Padme, actually because I love Star Wars and she hates it, so we thought it would be a funny alliteration cause you know, our plant was a petunia—I'm sorry, Tony Stark is in my room...you're in my room."
"You named your plant child Padme?"
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𝐒𝐀𝐗𝐎𝐍𝐘 ─ 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍
"Don't put your feet there. If we get into an accident, you'll break them."
"If we get into an accident in this metal tincan, Sam and I are as good as gone, Steve. I'm talking crunched-up, body parts everywhere—"
Sam winced, interjecting. "Okay, now. Didn't need that visual—"
"I'm just saying. We'll be like a pot pie, y'know. Mushy in the middle."
Steve glanced at her through the rearview mirror. "Lizzie."
"Sorry. Trying to ease the tension."
In a very small Beetle that Steve hot-wired sat two super-soldiers from a different century, a war veteran literally swept up into the madness, and a fifteen-year-old girl who kept shuffling around behind Steve's seat. Lizzie Carter had done her best to make herself small for the first hour, but most of that was because she'd accidentally fallen asleep and woken up when Steve hit a pothole that caused her head to slam hard against the small, back window. The groan she'd let out was matched with a loud snort from Sam, and another less animated sound from Steve as he apologized.
Then, there was the guy who'd tried to kill her twice sitting next to her. Bucky Barnes was actually Bucky Barnes this time around, and thankfully, there was no one around to say the trigger words that Lizzie'd learned set off the Winter Soldier buried deep inside of the man. The two of them hadn't acknowledged each other. Not exactly, at least. They'd caught the other watching them, Lizzie's eyes always catching on his flesh hand in the confined space of the Beetle. It was that one, not the metal one, that clutched at her throat—not even twenty-four hours ago, and three years ago.
Bucky watched her because he didn't understand, and no one was explaining to him. Steve had obviously caught the silent questions directed his way about the teenager, but rather than answer, he always changed the subject. What Bucky did know was that he'd met the girl, in conditions that weren't his own self, and he had hurt her. He remembered that. Some of his actions were hazy, but others...others stuck with him. Like the one of her. The chain underneath his shirt felt heavier.
The car ride between these four had been quiet. Lizzie had to turn off her phone the moment she went off the grid, knowing well-enough by now that there was someone out there who could track her. They'd found Steve before, after all. Her fingers subconsciously rubbed at her knee, feeling the ghost of a pain from three years ago. The quiet meant that Lizzie couldn't shove her headphones in—actually, Lizzie wasn't even sure where her headphones were anymore—and the quiet only allowed for anxiety to build in her chest. Quiet meant she could think about what she was doing—where she was going—what she was driving into.
"She said she'd be there?" Lizzie asked suddenly, gnawing on her bottom lip as she looked out the window. They were only a few minutes away from where they would be meeting with Sharon. She'd called Steve two hours ago, having been added into the Secret Spy Phone Club alongside Carson and Sam, telling him that she'd gotten out of the chaos inside of the CIA with a few special gifts to return.
Steve's hands tightened around the wheel. "Yes."
"What about Carson?"
"I don't know."
There was a brief pause in the air before Bucky was breaking the silence. "Are we going to keep going on with this whole plan without addressing Teenie over here?"
"That's the plan," Sam cut in before either of the two that the question was directed at could answer, obviously uncomfortable with the man being in the car, as well. "She's a need-to-know basis. You don't need to know."
Steve and Lizzie had met eyes the second Bucky uttered out the childish nickname. Once upon a time, there was a conversation they had when Bucky was a ghost—when Steve could only imagine in his dreams the moment his best friend met the annoying, little pest of a teenager that Steve cared for so dearly...and for once, Steve looked to Lizzie for approval. She held the decision of whether or not she wanted Bucky to know who she was. With a small nod from her, she turned to look over at Bucky, shuffling uncomfortably in the shared space between them.
"I'm Peggy's great niece," she decided was the best introduction for the man.
Bucky obviously needed a second with that. An expression washed over his face, realization, and then confusion, and then he was looking back at Steve. Always looking back at Steve, Lizzie realized. He was Bucky's hold on reality, and what was truly real and what he had been brainwashed to believe. When Steve's hands tightened around the wheel and Sam sighed heavily, Bucky decided that the information must have been true. Still, the family tree didn't explain why she was there. In the car. On a deadly mission. At fifteen.
Bucky's mouth moved as he tried to form a reply, but all that he had was a statement he knew to be true. "You were there that day."
"I was," she answered softly, her mouth drying.
Not now.
"I tried to kill you."
Lizzie watched ahead of her as Steve's shoulders tensed up. "But you didn't."
"You had these."
His answer was followed by a shuffling movement and a familiar sound to her ears. Lizzie turned her head to see him pulling a chain out from underneath his shirt. Instantly, nausea swept over her when she noticed the dog-tags laying flat against his chest with his name etched into them. He gripped onto the chain like a lifeline, and something in that action made Lizzie's nausea disappear. Because she did the same thing once upon a time with that same chain. It saved her life. Her gaze gravitated back to him, and once again, the two were staring at each other with apprehension...and understanding.
"I did," she confirmed, flickering down to them once again before coming back to his eyes.
His brows furrowed on her, trying to read her face for any kind of explanation. "Why?"
"We're here," Steve called out before Lizzie could attempt to answer such a heavy question.
Ahead of them, under the overpass they'd just driven to, was black car that looked much more undercover than the tragedy Steve hot-wired. Standing outside of it was Sharon. Lizzie exhaled in relief at the sight of her sister in one piece, but a gut wrenching feeling lived under the surface of that relief because she knew what it meant for Sharon to be there—to do what she was doing. Steve didn't wait to get out of the car, pulling up the seat so that Lizzie could get out after him.
Without hesitation, she jogged over to her older sister and clung to her. Sharon's arms were circling her in a protective layer, allowing for Lizzie to expel the anxiety that had been rolling off her body for the last few hours. If Sharon noticed the trembling, she said nothing, only tightening her hold around her baby sister as she met Steve's eyes over Lizzie's shoulder. The situation caused his lips to pull down, but love shined in his eyes as he watched them. Something more, though. Something Sharon had been feeling the whole ride there. Grief. Over something they had not yet lost. Something they now had to say goodbye to.
Sharon pulled away first, her hands going to Lizzie's face to check her for any injuries. "You're good, yeah?"
"I've been better," Lizzie admitted to her, but she grabbed Sharon's wrist and pulled it down, feeling suddenly aware of the audience watching them. "But I've been worse, too...where's Carson?"
"Finding a safe place for me and her to lay low for a bit," she muttered quietly, and then Sharon paused for a moment when a wave of tears stung her eyes. The unspoken conversation needed to happen now. The sight made Lizzie's fingers tighten around her sister's hand, trying her hardest not to let her own emotions get the best over her. "I talked to Ma and Dad, and I wrote a letter for Sammy...I don't know how long it'll be before I see you—"
Lizzie suddenly jerked her head back, a lump forming in her throat as she looked at her sister in pure confusion. "Why are you acting like you're not coming with us?"
Sharon glanced back at Steve, only making Lizzie more upset by the situation.
"What's going on, Sharon?" she asked more direct, unwilling to back down.
"The CIA are looking for Carson and I. We're criminals now—and Ross isn't going to stop looking for us. Looking into our pasts, looking into our logs—they're going to find a lot of incriminating stuff against us...our tracks are clean, but we had to handle things after S.H.I.E.L.D. collapsed in our own way using their database,"Sharon explained in the best way she could, her jaw clenching between words as she watched her little sister's expressions change. "We need to clean up our pasts...and I need to protect you."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean, Sharon? Clean up what?" Lizzie stared in disbelief at her sister, eyes wide with tears as she spun around to look over at Steve. He ducked his head, and her face fell in realization at his reaction. "You knew she was leaving?"
Steve looked at Sharon, then back to Lizzie. "Hear her out, MJ."
"HYDRA still has leeches," Sharon started. "Monroe contacted us a few days ago—"
Lizzie shook her head, stepping back further almost immediately at the name and raising a hand up. "Mm, no...no. You're talking to him?"
"He still has contacts with that side—"
"Because he was working for them!"
Her exclaim echoed underneath the overpass, but luckily, there was enough traffic around that it drowned out the noise. Realizing her outburst, Lizzie cleared her throat and took another step back. The worst part was that she could feel the sets of eyes on her, each with their own emotions, and Lizzie tried to take deep breaths to control herself. The onset of pain erupted in her chest, and she turned back to Sharon. Rubbing her hand under her nose, she tried to get rid of the evidence of tears and rationalize with her sister.
"I'm going with you. I'm already on Ross' list. He met me, they know I'm involved—"
"You need to be here, Lizzie."
Sharon's words held a much greater weight than Lizzie would realize at the time, but she didn't care. The younger of the two Carters glanced back at the Beetle, where Bucky and Sam had been watching the conversation unfold, until Bucky glanced down at his hands. Lizzie knew whose fight she was in right now, but she also knew which one she couldn't just walk away from. Sparing a short glance at Steve, she realized he had grown more aware of his surroundings—they were running out of time.
Lizzie turned to her sister, one last plea. One last attempt. "I need to be with you."
"I can't protect you. Not like they can. Not like Steve can. Lizzie, we don't have time to discuss this. I need to go..." and when Sharon realized that it would be much harder for Lizzie to let go, what she said next were words that would hurt them both. She said what she had to. "I don't want you there, Lizzie."
That was the one shot Lizzie took straight in the heart, but the message was received loud and clear. Sharon didn't want her there. Lizzie would only get in her way. Her sister didn't need her. Sharon watched her cover up the hurt in a way that only a professional would. Brown eyes were erased of any emotion, and Lizzie slowly nodded, wiping the tears off her face. As much as the sight pained Sharon, relief followed. Because Sharon knew that she would be okay, even if Lizzie didn't know that yet. She would be safe. She would be okay.
"I'll let you two say your goodbyes."
Lizzie croaked out the words dully, nodding her head once at her sister and looking briefly at Steve. Just as she went to turn away from Sharon and head back to the car, she paused. Because neither sister knew when they would see the other again, and leaving on the note that they did felt wrong. Even if something had been shattered with Sharon's words, even if Lizzie would have to physically stitch up her heart, they wouldn't leave it at that.
"Promise me you'll let me know you're okay every so often," she said to Sharon, inhaling sharply before she spoke her next words. "And that you'll be safe."
Sharon managed a small, pained smile. "Only if you do the same...I love you, Liz."
For the first time in their lives, the conversation between them felt like one with shared adults. Lizzie's age defied her in that moment. Still, nothing felt okay.
"I love you too."
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Author's Note:
I'm baaaack. Hello, guys! Giving you some updates now that I'm on break. I'm always surprised at how easily I can fall back into writing Lizzie, no matter how much she grows up and changes, she's such a breath of fresh air for me to write. I hope that you all have enjoyed the last two chapters as we get deep into the Civil War plot line...only one chapter now until we see the events unfold at the airport. I'm very excited to write it, and finish up Civil War so that I can begin Homecoming!
Let me know what you thought about the chapter. We got a few big moments within this chapter. Lizzie and Bucky's interaction gives me the little googly-eye emojis, and I hope you guys caught the node to Chapter Nine's nickname.
We also see a goodbye between Sharon and Lizzie, and the return of a character we have conflicting feelings about...what do you think is going on with Monroe? I'm really excited to explore this small side-plot, just to give a bit more context into Sharon's place after the CIA events.
As always, please leave feedback and comments! They've been motivating me to keep writing for Lizzie, and I'm so grateful for your continuous support.
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