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Title: Finding Order Again
Character(s)/Pairings: Sinthea Schmidt/Brock Rumlow, Helmut Zemo, Jack Rollins
Rating: M
Content Issues: Canon compliant (as far as I know), gun violence
Word Count: ~2010
Disclaimer: I do not own anything recognizable here. Marvel does. I'm just playing with their toys.
Author Note: oh may the marvel gods forgive me for this... written for my trope bingo card, prompt: day at the beach. Honestly, I've just been thinking long and hard on where the FUCK MCU Sin is at this point so... this is my answer.

On AO3


It had been Brock’s idea. She’d mentioned not really trusting Pierce and Project Insight not to wipe out any allies he was worried about. And for the last week, she’d enjoyed her little vacation away from the Eastern seaboard as much as she ever enjoyed anything. Everything around her told her to relax and sunbathe and drink ridiculous things with umbrellas in them and more ice than booze. It had never been that easy to stop planning, plotting, looking for the angle but she put on a good show for the security detail. Only a handful of them really knew who she was anyway.

Most of them were taking to guessing—diplomat’s daughter, mistress, trophy wife—none of those idiots were high enough on the ladder to realize who they were dismissing so quickly. And even the ones who did know barely realized that she didn’t really need their help, when it came down to it. She had the same training, the same abilities—maybe even more abilities than they did—after all.

If they tried anything, it wouldn’t be Brock that cut them down. He’d probably just get there in time to help her clean up.

She smiled to herself, picking up her phone from the small table beside her lounge and opening up her texts.

I’ll come get you when everything’s up and running.

She knew what that translated into.

As soon as Insight is up, I’m coming down there, kicking your detail out and we can fuck each other stupid on Pierce’s dime for a couple days.

To say she was looking forward to it was putting it mildly. SHIELD had taken up far too much of his time in the last few years as far as she was concerned. Between that and her own machinations within Hydra, there hadn’t been a whole lot of time for fun in their lives lately. That needed to change as soon as possible.

She sighed and sat back, setting her phone back down and glancing over to where her detail for the day was standing out of the sun near the bar. All of them had turned away from her and were watching what must have been a TV over the bar. She sighed and got to her feet, collecting her drink and her phone and padding over to see what could possibly have caught all of their attention so fully.

She had to weave through them to get to the bar and see what was so captivating. In bare feet, she was willing to admit that most of them towered over her. She didn’t make it all the way through to the bar though before she could see the images on the TV above the bartender’s head. She had a vague sense of the glass slipping out of suddenly numb fingers and hitting the floor. She sensed the movement around her and the instructions not to move so she didn’t step on any of the glass shards. She knew there was motion and noise going on.

But she couldn’t pull her eyes away from the screen.

Before the busboy has even grabbed a broom for the broken glass, she’s on her phone. The first two calls when straight to voicemail. She started texting, silently repeating a prayer to gods she didn’t even believe in. Please don’t be there. Please be anywhere else on the planet.

Even as she typed, she couldn’t take her eyes off the image of one of the Insight carriers hitting the Triskelion. She couldn’t pull her attention away from it. That footage would win awards. It would become iconic. She was sure of it. But she didn’t care. She hit send and held her breath. One minute. Two. Three. Four. The glass was cleaned up and someone was trying to get her to sit down.

“I want the helicopter ready in fifteen minutes.”

“Ma’am…”

“Call the airport. Tell them the jet will be leaving in forty five minutes.” She turned on her heel stalking out of the bar, barely registering the tiny slivers of glass that embedding into the souls of her feet as she walked.

“Ma’am…”

“What?” She turned to face the head of her guard.

He only hesitated for a moment. “I understand that the news is upsetting—“

“Upsetting?” She smiled a cold, calculating smile. “Do you know who I am, agent?”

“I know Secretary Pierce and Agent Rumlow value your safety, Ma’am.”

“And do you know why?” She took a step closer to him, faint bloodied footprints behind her. “I am the heir to Hydra. I am the daughter of its founder. You will do as I instruct you to do or what is left of your body will be dropped from that helicopter over the Gulf of Mexico. Do I make myself perfectly clear?” she looked at her phone. Still no message. “You have thirteen minutes now.”

She heard the activity behind her as she walked back toward her rooms. Come on, baby. You’re scaring me. She would have finished packing sooner but she couldn’t help but check her phone every minute or so. By the time she’d zipped up the bag and changed into something a little more combat ready—gods only knew what she was flying into—she was losing hope.

One of the braver guards knocked on her door. “Wheels up in five.” He said softly. “I can take your bag.” He shrugged. “I have a couple friends on STRIKE.”

She nodded, swallowing hard. “We’ll find them.”

“One way or another…” He sighed and picked up the bag.

“We’ll find them.” She said again, a little more solid in the idea that time and the command in her voice seemed to brace him a little.

“Yes, Ma’am.” He tapped the comm in his ear as she did a final sweep of the room. “The pilot on the jet wants to know where we’re going.”

“DC.” Sin moved out into the hallway, tapping her finger on the back of her phone, willing it to vibrate, to ring… anything.

“Fisher isn’t going—“

“I don’t care what Agent Fisher has to say about it.” She turned around and saw the agent flinch. “We’re going to DC. And if he’s too much of a coward to stand by other HYDRA agents in a time of need he’s welcome to stay behind and hide.” She moved toward the elevator. “He can think of it as a head start.”

“For what?”

“From me. When I’m done cleaning up the mess in DC,” when I find him and bring him back, “I’m coming back and putting a bullet in the head of anyone that wasn’t ready to dig out their fellow agents.” She checked her weapons, confident that the agent behind her would spread that rumor like wildfire at the first possible instance.

She got to the roof as the helicopter landed. The agent on her heels threw her back in the back and climbed in. Agent Fisher approached her. “Ma’am, I don’t think you’re thinking this through clearly. Flying into DC at this time would put you at risk. We don’t know where the people that hit the hellicarriers are--”

“You know what? I changed my mind.” She sighed heavily, watching the relief cross his face before she pulled the gun at her hip and shot him. “You don’t get a head start.” She climbed in and signaled the pilot to take off.

The flight was a blur both to the airport and into American airspace. Things were even worse than she feared when they finally got to Washington. The guards all assumed other identities and ‘volunteered’ to help dig people out of the rubble that was left of the Triskelion. She spent her time going over every casualty list and checking on every John Doe that came out of the mess. She found a few STRIKE team members that way. Some in worse shape than others.

She was masquerading as a nurse when she found Jack and he gave her the final tip she needed. “Had a chatty guard a couple nights ago. High ranking HYDRA members are being held in Norfolk.” He tried to shift a little and flinched—a sure sign he was worse off than he wanted to admit. “If he made it out, that’s where he’ll be.”

She smiled, resting a hand on his arm. “We’ll get you out of here soon.” It was the only thing she could say to him at that point. And it was the truth. She’d need every hand on deck if she was going to get anything out of Captain America’s power vacuum.

Finding a way into the medical wing of a Navy prison was going to be harder though and that had to be priority. Fate intervened on her behalf though. Fate… or one of her more influential allies. Apparently the Navy wasn’t staffed to hold that many seriously injured threats at once. So a skilled nurse was more than welcome to take a few shifts. So Erica Holstein went up on the schedule and Sin was in. It wasn’t even that hard to drop some hints at working the burn ward. Everyone was so nervous and frazzled down there that a few extra—and steady—hands were more than they could ask for.

She was more than professional enough to keep her reaction to herself. Her stomach twisted when she saw him for the first time in weeks. Once the guards were out of the room, her cover broke just a little. “Oh Brock… baby, what did they do to you?”

It took longer than it should have for him to fight his way through the pain and the meds and recognize who was standing next to his bed. “… Sin?”

“Yeah.” She smiled, just a little. Her mind was already providing her with a thousand plans on what to do with the people responsible for this. If she hadn’t already been raised to hate everything Captain America was and stood for, this would have been the tipping point. This drove home how close she’d come to losing the only person she trusted to watch her back. She could blame Pierce for panicking—that was what it sounded like to her when she got the piecemeal reports—but in her mind, this was on Captain America and his compatriots and nothing was going to stop her from paying them back in kind. “Ready for your rescue?”

Her smile widened a little when he laughed. “Yeah, just get me on my feet and I’m ready to go.”

“Trust me.”

“Always do.” He closed his eyes again. “Did anyone else get out?”

“Yeah, some people did.” She sighed. “Get some rest.”

“That’s all I do…”

“Brock. Rest. Now.” She put a little command in her voice.

He smiled up at her but didn’t open his eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”

She moved from the room a few moments later, heading toward the break room and digging her phone out of her bag. She dialed the number from memory and waited for an answer. When the line picked up, she didn’t wait for a greeting. “The salvage operation is go.”

“When?”

“ASAP.” She sighed. “And Helmut? Call Strucker.”

“Sinthea…”

“Do it. We need his research.”

“We do or he does?”

“Same thing.”

“This is a spectacularly bad idea.”

“Which part?”

“All of it. But bringing Strucker in… there are better uses for favors from that man. Better plays to be made and you know it. If you let your feelings on this matter get in the way, it will affect your game plan from here out.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“There will be better times ahead of us for you to call in those favors. You know this is the tip of the iceberg, Sinthea.” She could practically hear Zemo pinching the bridge of his nose. “Is he really worth this?”

“Get the raids set up and let me worry about that. And Helmut?” She let herself look down the hallway toward Brock’s room. “Yes. He is.”

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