Bucky lowered his head, his hands trembling slightly, not daring to look at Steve.
"Steve..." His voice was hoarse, "I... I lost control again."
Steve stopped in his tracks, turning to look at him.
Then he reached out and placed his hand on Bucky's shoulder.
"That wasn't you, Bucky," he said, "That was HYDRA's fault."
Bucky raised his head and looked at Steve.
"I... I don't deserve..."
Steve interrupted him: "What don't you deserve? To live? Or freedom?"
He paused.
"Bucky, you were controlled for seventy years. That wasn't your fault."
Bucky's tears finally fell.
Steve gently patted his shoulder. "Let's go. Go back first, and we can talk about the rest later."
Bucky nodded, following Steve as he slowly walked toward the command center.
At the end of the corridor, Mavuika stood there.
He watched Steve and Bucky walk over and nodded slightly: "Are you guys alright?"
Steve shook his head: "We're fine. Thank you, Ms. Mavuika. If it weren't for you..."
Thor walked over from the other side, carrying Mjolnir on his shoulder, with a few scorch marks on his body, but looking in high spirits.
"Big Sister, I'm here! That silver-haired young man runs so fast! I chased him for ages and couldn't catch him!"
Loki followed behind him, gracefully adjusting his collar. "You didn't catch him because you're stupid."
Thor glared at him. "Say that again?"
Loki smiled and said no more.
Pietro and Wanda stood not far away, guarded by several S.H.I.E.L.D. Agents.
Neither of them resisted, just standing quietly there like two little birds locked in a cage.
Fury walked over, looking at them with a slight frown in his brow.
Wanda raised her head and looked at Fury, her eyes holding a stubborn, almost desperate gleam.
"If you want to take us back to S.H.I.E.L.D., you might as well just kill us."
Fury's brow furrowed even tighter.
Pietro stood beside her without speaking, but the expression on his face was the same as Wanda's—unyielding, uncompromising.
Fury fell silent.
Of course he wanted to bring these two people back to S.H.I.E.L.D.. Their abilities were too strong; if they could be used by S.H.I.E.L.D., it would be a huge boost.
Mavuika spoke. "Director Fury."
Fury turned to look at him.
Mavuika looked at Wanda and Pietro, then said: "Let them go to my place for a while."
Fury was stunned for a moment: "Your place?"
Mavuika nodded. "With me around, there's no need to worry about what kind of threat they might pose."
Fury fell silent for a few seconds.
He looked at Wanda and Pietro, then looked at Mavuika, and then nodded.
"Alright."
He turned around and said to the nearby Agent: "Let them go."
The Agent hesitated for a moment, but still did as told.
Wanda and Pietro stood there, looking at Mavuika, their eyes holding a complex, almost grateful gleam.
Mavuika walked up to them and looked at them.
"Let's go," he said, "Come home with me."
Wanda opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but in the end just nodded.
Pietro stood beside her without speaking either.
Thor walked over and patted Pietro's shoulder: "Don't be nervous, Big Sister is a very good person."
Pietro was staggered a bit by his pat, raised his head, and looking at Thor's bright smiling face, the corners of his mouth couldn't help but curve up slightly.
Loki stood aside, arms crossed over his chest, watching this scene with a faint smile at the corner of his mouth.
"Let's go," he said, "Home."
The night wind blew, carrying the chill of early autumn and the scent of gunpowder smoke.
S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters building was still lit up, and rescue workers were clearing the battlefield.
Fury stood in front of the window, watching those streaks of light disappear into the night sky, and gently sighed.
"Director," Coulson's voice came from behind, "HYDRA's remaining forces are still being hunted down. Alexander Pierce has been captured and is currently undergoing interrogation."
Fury nodded: "Keep chasing, not a single one can be let go."
"Yes."
Coulson turned and left.
Fury stood in front of the window, looking at the night outside, and remained silent for a long time.
The night was deep, and the moonlight poured like quicksilver onto the roof of the three-story Villa on the north shore of Long Island, New York.
This was a building polished warm and elegant by time, with light gray stone exterior walls, dark gray window frames inlaid, and the chimney on the roof casting a long shadow under the moonlight.
The Villa was surrounded by a low iron fence, the inside of which was planted with climbing roses, their pinkish-white flowers gently swaying in the night wind, emitting a faint, elusive fragrance.
The garden was not big, but it was extremely well-kept.
The slate path extended all the way from the iron gate to the steps of the Villa, with lavender, rosemary, and sage planted on both sides, their purple flower spikes gleaming with a silver-gray luster under the moonlight.
In the corner stood an old locust tree with a canopy like an umbrella and rustling branches and leaves; under the tree sat a cast-iron bench, its backrest covered in morning glories.
On the side closer to the Villa, there was also a small vegetable plot planted with tomatoes, basil, and chili peppers—which Mavuika had only cleared this spring, and they were growing gratifyingly.
Mavuika stood on the slate path of the garden, holding a watering can in hand, watering that row of lavender.
He had changed out of his outdoor clothes and was wearing a loose linen-colored long dress, his golden-red long hair loosely coiled at the back of his head, with a few stray strands hanging beside his ears.
Moonlight spilled onto him, plating him with a layer of silvery-white halo, making his entire person look like an ancient oil painting.
Wanda stood on the steps at the entrance of the Villa, holding a cup of hot tea in her hands, watching that person watering flowers.
Her gaze held scrutiny, vigilance, and a kind of almost instinctive curiosity that she herself hadn't noticed.
In HYDRA's laboratory, those scientists always sized her up with icy gazes, like sizing up a weapon.
Those trainers always barked orders at her with mechanical voices, like treating a machine.
But on Mavuika, Wanda couldn't feel that kind of thing.
No scrutiny, no calculation, only a calm, unhurried gentleness towards ordinary civilians.
Wanda didn't like this feeling.
Because one thing she learned in HYDRA's Base was—anything that looked too good was a trap.
Pietro walked out of the house, holding a cup of Milk in his hand, and stood beside Wanda.
He also looked at Mavuika, his brow slightly furrowed, like an alert cat.
"Wanda..." He lowered his voice: "What kind of people do you think they are?"
Wanda didn't reply immediately.
She looked at Mavuika's back, looked at that linen long dress gently fluttering in the night wind, looked at those hands watering the lavender—those hands were fair and slender, not looking like they were capable of fighting.
But a few hours ago, it was these very hands that destroyed three helicarriers within a few seconds.
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