Hello there, this has been sitting around for a while now, so I thought, why not post it?
I am very mean to Steve and this does focus around him. The reason it's rated M is for torture, so if you don't like that kind of thing, well...I'm afraid this fic isn't for you however, the torturing in this chapter isn't too bad, but the rest? Eh, I'm a horrible person and therefore horrible to the characters. But there will be no main character deaths, I assure you. This takes place after the movie Avengers, but I haven't seen Captain America: The Winter Soldier yet, therefore this story is most definitely AU movie verse.
Warning to you now, I haven't written anything ever of this material, therefore feel free to jab me in the back or tell me - I'm here to learn (and have fun of course). I am also English, therefore some of my spelling isn't the same as in other countries, so just warning you all now in case it bothers you.
Disclaimer: I don't own any Marvel characters, or anything which you would recognise. I only own the storyline and any OCs I have created. I also do not own any material by Imagine Dragons or OneRepublic (I highly recommend that you take a listen to the song as they are amazing, and set the feeling of the chapter)
The first song I have chosen is Drive by Imagine Dragons, it's a really sweet song and the lyrics are amazing.
And thus, I now present the story.
Chapter One:
No Time Like The Present
It'd been two months after the Manhattan Attack. Steve was coping, barely, but he was coping in the best way he knew how. He woke up, after a roughly 2/3hour sleep, and then either punched the heck out of a punching bag, or rode out on his Harley. Anything to make him stop thinking about his time.
His time. The 1940s: a place he could never return, yet most definitely never forget. Steve didn't really have time to think about it before the Attack, he had a job to focus on, a planet to save. But now, with nothing to occupy his thoughts, he was forced to think about the 1940s and everything that came with it.
His first love: Peggy. Steve sighed at just the though of her name. Peggy, strong, determined and completely beautiful, independent Peggy Carter. Gone. All in a blink of an eye, never to be seen again.
Steve wished Peggy was still alive, however he knew that if she was still alive that he would've hesitated to visit. She had had a family, friends and a generally good life. Everything he could no longer and probably would ever achieve in his life, at least, not in the way he imagined it.
But Steven Grant Rogers had made a promise to a man he once knew, to stay the man he used to be before the serum, and he was going to damn well keep that promise. The old Steve was never a quitter, he wasn't going to be one either.
Steve had to remind himself of this every night, right after he closed his eyes, going back to one of the worse times of his life...
'Bucky! Bucky, take my hand!' Steve watched, his arm out stretched, as far as he could possibly reach, but it would never be far enough.
He looked into the eyes of his best friend, those chocolate browns which screamed for help as the train continued to race and clatter on the track, the chills from the peak of the mountain barely registering to Steve's adrenaline pumped body.
He watched, a silent terror coursing through his veins, as Bucky Barnes fell, the cool metal his once familiar hands clung onto, hands which had saved Steve's life many a time, now gone and lost to the world forever. His friend was dead.
"No!" Steve woke with a start, his body drenched with sweat and his blankets surrounding him like fly trapped in a web. While taking haggard breaths, Steve took a glance at his clock, already guessing that he had gotten less than three hours sleep. 4:36am.
Knowing that sleep would never come back to him, Steve unravelled himself from the ghastly cocoon which he was incased in, a thought too similar to the ice, he reflected, and climbed into the shower to rid himself of the eyes which poured guilt into the very essence of his being.
This was the reason why Steve refused to live in the Avengers Tower, despite SHIELD and the other teams' insistence, they didn't know the actual reason of course. He had to be strong for his team, if they saw that he was broken, his nightmares proving that, then the rest of his team would be more likely to follow. Tony already had nightmares: many a time when Steve was at the Tower, he would hear Tony yelling at some invisible force from where he had fallen into slumber due to exhaustion. New York had made that worse. Steve couldn't help but think that one more catastrophe would push Tony off the edge.
Natasha and Clint had been through a lot more than Steve had been through, and Steve had been in a World War. But they were assassins, forced to keep their emotions locked up, so who knew if they were in pain. Steve guessed they were, but at least they had each other.
Then there was Thor. Half the time Thor wasn't even on Earth, so he didn't really have to worry about the demi-god, but he did any ways.
Bruce was the hardest for Steve to figure out, truthfully he didn't spend much time around him - Tony often had that privilege, being "Science Bros" and all - however he did like the quiet and humble scientist, and the Other Guy seemed to hold a soft spot of Steve.
Despite this though, Steve believed that all of his teammates had secrets which haunted them, just like he did, but Steve was the one who had to keep his emotions - and actions - in check for all their sakes.
That's why he couldn't live at the Tower. He didn't want to burden anyone with his problems, they all had enough of their own.
Once Steve clambered out of the shower and had sufficiently cooled down after his nightmare, he looked outside of his Brooklyn apartment window, courtesy of SHIELD. After a quick glance, Steve dressed, grabbed his leather jacket and headed outside to his Harley.
Only he never made it.
When Steve awoke some time later, he felt as if he had been hit over the head with his own shield, then been stuffed with cotton wool. Taking in a woozy look at his surroundings, Steve noticed that his arms and and feet were chained against the wall, with what Steve could not recognise as a material he had come across, however he knew the stuff was strong, he didn't even know where to begin with breaking it apart, it had a solid hold on him. His shoulders ached as he tried to support himself, trying to stop them dislocating.
The room itself looked rather clean, however the gutter underneath Steve did anything but give him hope. The fact that he was even drugged to get in this position in the first place worried him: not even Tony and Bruce could find anything to knock him out for over half an hour, never mind being dragged somewhere, tied up in a seemingly underground area.
A loud bang dragged Steve out his state of analysis, and he heard two men speaking in a language which he couldn't even begin to recognise. One of the men, who appeared to be medium hight but no other features could be seen due to his clothes, spoke.
"Ahh, America's Golden Boy finally awake I see?" Man 1, as Steve dubbed in his head, said as he came to stand in front of Steve, his arms behind his back. "I suppose since your now present with us, that we can finally get this party started hmm?" Man 1 had no lingering accent he could recognise, or pick out, giving Steve no idea as to what he possibly wanted. Had the accent been German, Steve would've assumed it was HYDRA.
"No, no, no chicken. Don't start without me, you know I love to hear the screams." Steve almost jumped as he suddenly saw a women appear, seemingly out of no where. As far as he could tell, the women had green eyes and a piece of her brown hair had fallen onto her face, the rest of the waves in a pony tail. The rest of her was covered by a catsuit - not unlike Natasha's - had it been any other situation, Steve may've blushed, the suit left nothin to imagination. "Say soldier, we could have fun together."
The women - Steve made no mistake of calling her a dame - had various weapons in her belt and walked up to Steve, a knife twirling around in her hand. She placed a hand on Steve's bare shoulder; it was only now apparent to him that he had been stripped out of his shirt and jacket, only his trousers, shoes and dog tags remaining. She brought up her knife to the edge of Steve's left shoulder, the place just before his neck connected, and dug in the knife, drawing blood lines onto his skin. During this time, the women also brought her lips up to the place behind Steve's right ear, trailing kisses down his neck as she drew, making Steve wince, however he couldn't jerk away from the kisses as he would surely get a knife into his neck, but couldn't get away from her knife as he was sure the women wouldn't hesitate to use her teeth, as she was rough already.
When the knife dove further down, just above his abdomen, Steve tried to stifle a pained groan as the knife dug deeper, to the point where Steve could practically feel it touching his gut.
"Oh, Stevie boy, don't worry, the fun hasn't even started yet." She looked into his baby blues, with her emerald green eyes, smirking.
"What do you want?" He rasped, the sound if his own voice shocked him, he must've been here for a while for his throat to become that dry.
Man 1 returned to conversation as this point, "Captain, Captain, Captain." He said, his voice in a chastising manner. "What do we want?" The man placed his index finger on his chin, mock thinking. "What. Do. We. Want?" He placed as much emphasis on each word as he could. The broad man walked up to Steve, and with little warning, punched him in the abdomen, knocking the breath out of Steve. "What do we want?" The man repeated, turning towards his partner.
She gave him a seductive smile, and she dragged her long manicured fingernail down Steve's cheek, starting at his temple down to his chin, arching the motion. "Steve, dear Steve, you didn't think it was going to be that easy did you?" She gave a dramatic pause, then slapped Steve across his face, hard, before continuing. "You thought that we would tell you our master plan, like an evil villain?"
Steve attempted some sibilance of a smile, "Worth a try right?"
The women's smile dropped, her eyes turning to ice as she glared into his baby blues. "Wrong."
Tony Stark was not a man who cared. Sure, he got paranoid and anxious, but only when he had a reason to be. Few people fell into the category in which they were cared about. Pepper, for example, Tony cared for her. So when Steve has bolted out of the Tower, thanks to Tony and his witty quips, Tony did not care. He found it fun to tease the innocent super soldier and he always came back round.
"Sup Spangles? Finally came back from 'ye old deedle de?" Tony gave his signature smirk, eyes taunting as always.
"Not now Stark." Steve warned Tony, his voice quiet but firm.
"Oooo look at that exhausted face." Tony gasped,"Don't tell me! Captain Virgin has finally got laid? Who's the lucky gal?" Clint stifled a high pitched laugh.
Steve, always the innocent out of the lot, looked sharply towards Tony, his face, although furious, betrayed a blush. "Don't be such a child Stark."
"Oh me? A child? Mind you, I could see how you could confuse me as a child gramps. Practically everyone is a child this century to you."
"Stark..." Natasha warned from her position on the couch.
"I'm not dealing with this today." Steve emphasized this by pointing sharply at the floor with his index finger. "Goodbye." Steve stormed towards the elevator, and promptly exited, leaving tension in the air.
"Well, The Star Spangled Man with a Plan got his spandex in a twist." Tony stated, mock gesturing the room with a sweep of his arm.
"Shut up Tony!" The three remaining Avengers yelled, Natasha actually slapping Tony in the back of the head.
Tony chucked to himself, remembering. Pepper would probably force him to apologize later on, he'd go chat with Capsicle, most likely about a new suit for fighting, which would force him to engage in a chat about tactics, Tony would deem that as made up, and he'd be rewarded by Pepper.
So really, Spangles did him a favour. Tony smirked at the thought.
Steve screamed in agony, as the whip came down again and again against his chest.
"Anyone would think your enjoying this Captain." The seductive voice called out, needing to be heard over his pleasurable screams. "I think we need you to know a name to scream out don't we? What should you call me? Hmmm...let me think. Oh! I know, why don't you call me Peggy?" Peggy smiled coyly, no better way to torture than mentally torture huh? "And that nice man over there, why don't we call him Bucky?"
"I would never call you Peggy!" Steve yelled, barely keeping a scream contained beneath the words.
"Oh no, Stevie, you will call me Peggy, I will hurt you until you are barely holding onto life, unless you beg me, as Peggy to stop. You will cry, and scream my name Captain." Peggy walked provocatively up to Steve, bloody whip still in hand, as she raked her nails down his beaten form, brining out groans and stifled yells of agony as the wounds which had already started to heal were torn open again.
"Never." Steve choked out, his voice broken and dry, but defiant nonetheless.
"Well, I'll have to fix that then, won't I?" Peggy stated simply, as she motion for Bucky to turndown the thermostat to below zero from the control room, while she grabbed a spiked bat. "Remember Captain, all you have to do is call out for your beloved Peggy..."
Steve's cries echoed throughout the room, all he had to do was cry for Peggy. No!, Steve thought, I can't, I won't, I... Steve blacked out, the darkness which he once feared for nightmares was now a welcoming escape from the pain.
Some time later, when Steve woke with a start, he felt his body immediately burn, like it was on fire despite the cold emitting all around him. Why was it so cold? Every breath he took could be visibly seen, and it could be seen more frequently as Steve's breaths quickened in panic.
At the back of his mind, Steve knew that he was having a panic attack - he was no longer able to have a asthma attack - he felt as if he was back in that ice, that dreaded ice which landed him here, in this wretched century in the first place.
Steve felt something stab him in the neck, most probably from a dart, as his memories all crashed into one.
The ground came closer, the large expanse of ice visible through the screen. "We'll have the band play something slow." The ground was coming even closer now. "I'd hate to step on your..."
He was covered, body on fire with ice all around him, body complaining, the ice pressing closer and closer into him, claustrophobia setting in: no way out.
But darkness surrounded him, which then moulded into another memory. One that he often saw, but this time, it was ten times more real, ten times more devastating.
"I had him on the ropes." Steve nearly shed a tear at the sound of his best friends' voice.
"I know you did." He heard himself saying. No, no! He thought, move now or-
Something slammed into Steve, knocking him aside, his shield now in Bucky's hands. A blast shot at the shield from the HYDRA agent, the reverb made Bucky shoot back out of the train: shield left safely still on the train. Steve - or the past Steve- quickly grabbed his shield, and threw it at the agent, taking him out. He then hurried to the open door of the train where he saw his friend hanging on by his nails. And as always, despite Steve's attempts, Bucky fell, mouth and eyes screaming in horror as Steve leaned back into the train, eyes watering. This was your fault, Bucky's voice echoed throughout his head, all your fault. Why didn't you save me?
His mother, on their broken couch was the new change of scenery, as she choked and gave wet and phlegmatic coughs from her water filled lungs, the younger Steve placed a towel on her head, and tried to keep calm for her sake. "Mom, just stay with me okay? We can get through this."
All that Steve received as a reply was more heart guttering coughs, which then collapsed into wheezing, and finally, silence. "No! Mom, Mom, listen to me, you need to wake up!" Steve cried as he held onto his mothers shoulders. "Mom, Mommy." Steve's body shook as it wracked with sobs, voice barely recognisable on the last syllables. It's your fault Steven, if you wasn't born I would be able to afford the care I needed, I wouldn't have died.
Please, get me out of this hell hole, Steve pleaded, I don't want to see this anymore.
Suddenly, Peggy reappeared: a hand caressing his cheek. Was her eyes always that green? - wait - green? Wasn't they brown? Steve stumbled over his thoughts. But the green complemented the brown shades of her hair, emerald eyes definitely suited Peggy more. Although, as soon as he completed the thought, Peggy's eyes went dead, the sparkle leaving them, staring straight into Steve's soul. "Why did you leave me?" She said, "After everything, this is how you repay me Captain? You always have been a weakling." Her British voice rang out her words hitting him piece by piece in the heart. "Your worthless Rogers."
"Peggy, please, you've got to understand, I-" Steve begged, voice cracking slightly.
"Understand what Rogers? That you hurt me?"
"No Peggy, no!" Steve's attempts were futile.
"I think it's time you pay don't you?" Gunshots rang out, hitting Steve in the abdomen, shoulders and the right side of his chest: they don't want him dead, yet, each leaving a searing pain. He looked back into Peggy's eyes and all he saw was fury. This time, she fetched a large bucket, filled with water, Steve knew that she was going to do to him, was what Tony had hinted at when he was tortured in Afghanistan. Steve, for all his weakened strength, tried to stop his head from being forced into the water, but failed, he had been starved and dehydrated, his strength was poor and no match for Peggy's strong hands, which dunked him.
His lungs ached for oxygen after a minute or so, his instincts fighting to get his head above water as he choked and spluttered. Peggy pulled back the short strands of his hair, not like he needed much persuasion, and Steve greedily gulped back in the air, only to be thrust back into the water, to start the regime again.
Steve almost laughed, at least the water covered up his tear streaked face, the saltiness mingling with the water. The continued until he, thankfully, blacked out, free from the pain which coursed through his mind.
Three days. They had electrocuted him, burned him, cut, whipped, drowned, starved, broken an arm and two ribs and even injected him with hallucinogens. All in three days. Three days was all it took to break Steven Grant Rogers.
"Are we finished yet?" Peggy's bored tone asked supposed Bucky. "I mean, the guy is starting to talk to thin air, I think it's safe to say he is broken and ready. Although, if I do say so myself, the accent was spot on."
Bucky looked back at Peggy, observing the Captain through one-way-glass at the same time. "I suppose your right. I still find the idea brilliant: what better way to harm a team through a broken Captain. It'll make them fall apart."
They had dressed her up, military 1940s style, curled and styled her hair to look like Peggy's, she looked almost exactly alike, a second reason she was put onto this assignment, next to the fact that she had one devious mind.
"Yeah, yeah, we get it: we need to buy you a spinny leather chair and a white cat. What do you want me to do with Rogers?"
"Clean him up. Get him some new clothes, drop him back off at his apartment. And threaten him of course, if he believes your even real that is."
"You want me to groom him? Are you serious?" Peggy had given him an incredulous look during his words.
"Yes. It'll make it worse for the team that way: nothing looks abnormal on the outside, but inside, there is a crazy man lurking." He responded.
"Shut your babbling Rogers." Steve looked at Peggy - although she looked like the captor again - eyes slightly wild. After some attempt at focusing, he glared, he was praying, not babbling. "What's that look for? I'm setting you free."
What? Steve's face contorted into a look of utter confusion. "You didn't even ask anything of me."
'Only to get everything out of you.' The "real" Bucky stated from the corner of his holding cell. Steve ignored him. Bucky had shown up some time after the drowning, yet Steve had refused to talk to him, only muttering 'Be quiet' or 'Shut up' to him when Bucky got to loud for his liking. On top of that, there had been an annoying high pitched sound that echoed throughout his ears, similar to that of a fire alarm.
"We didn't want anything from you sugar-kins." Peggy's voice was somewhat laced in a heavy amount of hatred and sarcasm. "Time to clean you up soldier, you got some performing to do." She paused for a second, in thought. "Hmm... Say soldier, do you know if ink lasts on you? I wonder..."
After some pained groans, a wash down with a high pressure hose pipe - Steve practically screaming in fear from the water and human touch - he was taken back to his apartment, looking like nothing had happened within the past five days, with the exceptions of a sling and a couple of bandages around his torso and right arm - and a tattoo on the left side of his chest. With careful covering up, the squad got the hell out of there, and left Steve, sitting in a corner; to shocked to do anything but sit.
"Bucky shut up: now is not the time." Steve shouted at thin air. Or Bucky.
'Yes now is the time Steve, you need to get up off your sorry behind, and go to the Tower. Unless you want to see the rest of the team to see you wasting away in here.' Bucky stated, folding his arms in a authoritative manner.
Steve held up his hands in the air (due to the serum, it only took six days for his broken bones to heal, this regaining movement, albeit minimal pain), "Fine. Fine. But I do not want to hear a peep from you, okay?"
'I'm the only thing keeping you sane right now.' Bucky looked pointedly at Steve, not answering his question.
Steve had no comment for that. Had it not been for Bucky, these past three days of freedom would've been hell for him, even more so than what they already were. Buck had forced him to feed himself, get at least half an hour sleep without nightmare disturbances and even stick through showers, the water wouldn't hurt him. That's what Bucky had told him. Steve had stood in horror when he first saw the tattoo. He hadn't known what it was, the picture at first. He had just looked at it and screamed. They had marked him, actually branded him. An six-pointed star, which looked like it was wrapped by a king cobra, it's mouth open, fangs on show all in a multitude of black and greys. Bucky convinced him that it didn't matter, he could cover it up, as it rested just above his heart on the left chest muscle. So Steve, after the deliberations of the shower, covered it, with a white undershirt and dark blue sweater - unusual clothing for him, especially when paired with jeans - but his usual tight white t-shirt allowed some of the dark colouring to be seen through it, and his usual trousers did just not look right with the sweater, according to Bucky.
Talking to a ghost may've not been the sanest thing that Steve had ever done, but it certainly kept him from tipping off the edge - completely.
Steve looked at Bucky sincerely, "Thank you." Bucky nodded, and looked suggestively at the door. "You want me to go now?"
Giving Steve an exasperated look, he said, 'No time like the present.' Steve noticed the double meaning. Cap got up and opened the door, immediately nervous, but pulled his paranoid self together and once again headed to his Harley. No time like the present.
Natalia Romanova was an assassin. Anyone who she knew, knew that, at least eventually. So when Steve walked into Stark Tower - sorry, Avengers Tower, she immediately knew something was up. His disposition was all wrong: his usually perfect posture was no longer perfect, his buff shoulders slumped forward slightly, as if it hurt to put them back and his head was drawn to the floor.
She also noticed the change of clothing - it was shocking to even her - but she heard a gasp from a very nearby Tony, who was stretched across the white couch, Natasha perched on the edge of the arm. She assumed Clint was in the vent again, Thor was currently in Asgard and Bruce was sat on the other couch, talking about some molecular physics or something close to that to Tony. Surprisingly, it was Pepper was the first one to speak, who had previously been in the kitchen, sorting out lunch for the ravenous group.
"Steve! Your back, I like the new sweater and jeans." Pepper quickly wandered into the centre of the room, meeting Steve halfway.
Tony, being Tony, shot his hand up into the air, in a 'hang on a moment' way which was exactly he next words out of his mouth, but delivered with the Tony Stark sarcasm of course. "Hang on a moment, Spangles owns a pair of jeans?"
Steve gave Pepper a small smile that didn't meet his eyes before looking at Tony in a way which looked half annoyed and half amused, with a hint of something else that Natasha couldn't pick out.
"Hello everyone." Steve said simply, his voice sounded wrong as well, another unrecognisable thing underlying his deep tones.
"Dude, you've been AWOL for a week and all we get 'hello everyone.'" Tony stated, matter-of-factly.
"Yes. That's all you get, you could've come over if you wanted me. Obviously you didn't as I would have seen you," as long as it wasn't while I was being tortured, Steve mentally added,"you all know where I live." Steve was pissed. He had been missing for seven days total, three of those in captivity, and no one had been all the wiser. Steve spent the majority of his days at the Tower, true Stark annoyed him to no avail, however it was a distraction. So a week not there? He thought that would at least ring some alarm bells.
'Your self-pitying again.' Bucky stated calmly from where he stood beside Pepper. Steve gave a glance in his direction as Tony whittled on about something per say usual. Natasha noticed this, the fact that his gaze wasn't drawn to Pepper, it was to thin air, his eyes had snapped to it in a shocked and annoyed manner, eyebrows dipping down slightly as if frowning. She didn't voice anything though, spy's watched and listened. They didn't speak.
"Hey Capsicle. Talking to you. Are you deaf now gramps?" Tony waved his hands in the air to catch his attention.
"Sorry what?" Said Steve, his attention still partially drawn to the air.
"I was saying that, if your dea- ooff!" Natasha pressed a pressure point in Tony's neck to stop him saying something they would regret. Pepper thankfully interjected.
"We was wondering if you wanted to stay for lunch Steve."
Steve looked at Pepper, his full attention given, for once. "Oh no, no, I don't want to intrude, just came to say hi that's all, you needn't make anything."
Pepper gave him a reassuring smile, "Nonsense Steve, I already made extras, always do in case Thor pops 'round, and you had to be prepared. Your having dinner with us." She patterned him on the shoulder, making Steve fly away from her touch. Natasha definitely didn't miss this, neither did the rest of the group.
"You okay Steve?" Banner asked.
"Oh I'm fine, really I am. I just bashed the shoulder earlier today, and it came a bit keen, that's all." Steve quickly wiped his face, hiding the emotion which played on it. Steve was lying, Natasha knew as much.
"I should take a look at it, see if you've damaged the shoulder, it shouldn't still be hurting now." Banner pointed out, with the serum, he should've healed a bashed up shoulder in just a few hours, the pain should've been gone within the hour, unless he went head first downstairs on concrete.
Steve realised his mistake. Bucky shook his head from where he stood. "No, it's quite alright Dr. Banner, just made me jump that's all." Steve hoped it was enough. Despite the skeptical looks, they dropped the subject.
"If you say so."
"I do. Don't worry about it." There was a sudden ping from the kitchen.
Pepper, unlike her usual self, flailed an exclaimed, "That's the food!" She quickly made her way through to the kitchen. "Take a seat Steve! And Natasha, you'll probably want a proper one as well, oh and get Clint please!" Pepper shouted in the other room.
Natasha, being Natasha, bashed the nearest vent. "Barton!" A second later, a echo-y yell of 'one second' was heard, and shortly after a Clint Barton stood in front of them, after climbing down from his nest. Natasha took the seat next to Steve, who had sat on the couch next to Banner, Clint had just opted to sit on the floor, on lower ground for once.
No long after, Pepper came back into the lounge/dining room, bearing food for the team.
A short span of silence ensued, before it was quickly broken by Tony, rambling yet again.
Steve didn't partake in the conversation, too busy trying not to throw up the food he was given. The food was too rich for his stomach, which was still adjusting after not eating for four days straight, which made Steve feel nauseous, but he managed to keep what he little ate down, but still tried to eat at his normal pace, anything else would rouse suspicion. After a few minutes of eating like this however, the nausea was becoming too strong to ignore. He quickly passed his dish over to Natasha, where she gave him a look, then unintentionally interrupted Tony, as he muttered a quick "Excuse me," before he made his way to the nearest bathroom, where he promptly vomited into the toliet, holding his stomach from where it was cramping and making him heave. He rested his head on his arm and say like that for five minutes, groaning slightly, when there was a knock at the door.
"Steve?" It was Pepper, thank God. "Steve are you okay in there?" Another rapping followed, this time harder against the door.
"R- Steve?" Damn it. It was Natasha.
"I'm fine." Steve called out, after washing his mouth out with water. His voice shook a little - but not from being sick - from being so close to water in a confined space, although being sick did certainly not help. He heard a faint whispering outside the door, most likely debating from the two girls on who would come in. During this time Steve looked at himself in the mirror, the dark circles underneath his eyes were now more prominent against his skin, and he had ruined his sweater. He was glad that he had put on a vest top (why he had chosen white he would never know, but he has still thankful that he had it on) underneath it, otherwise he would have to explain the slight bit of fading bruising which was left from his broken ribs, and of course, the branding mark, which was only visible when you were looking for it.
"Steve, I'm coming in." Natasha stated, promptly breaking the door lock straight after. Wait, what! Steve turned away from the door, looking suddenly interested in the plug hole of the sink. Natasha could only see the back of him, and despite her usual rule of not having human contact, she placed a hand under his jaw in an attempt to turn his face, when he flinched away from her, putting a large amount of distance between them before he realised what he was doing.
"Steve? What's wrong?" Natasha allowed concern to etch her features as she looked at his disheveled appearance. The darks of his eyes stood out like a sore-thumb, thanks to the pallor of his face, enhanced due to his sickness.
He took a quick glance at her eyes before looking away again, "Nothing's wrong Nat, the meal just didn't sit right with me."
"Uh-hu," Natasha said, looking at him right in the eyes, "then why are you looking so tired Steve? And why-" she grappled Steve into a hug, again unlike her, but she knew it was necessary. He trembled underneath her, knees buckling and he dropped to the floor still incased in her arms, "Why are you not looking me in the eye?" Steve continued to shake, his breathing became quick and ragged as he tried to get oxygen. Natasha rested her face on his neck, feeling a cold sweat break out on him, but she pressed a step to far.
"Get off of me." He threat was a deep growl in his throat. "Get off of me." He repeated, this time slightly louder, his arms attempting to pry away hers.
"I'm not letting go of you Steve. Something's happened to you, I think you know what I mean." Natasha furthered her grip, the way she positioned herself, it would be nearly impossible for him to get her off.
"Natasha, please." Steve's voice broke on the last syllable, his throat choking on a sob, voice full of emotion, as Natasha felt rather than saw a tear fall from his eye and land on the back of her bare neck. "Please, let go of me. I can't-" and then he broke down. The tears flowed like a devastating Niagara, his body shaking uncontrollably now, while Natasha muttered comforting things in Russian into his ear, gently rocking him back and forth, patting his back as his emotions flooded. He hadn't cried since Bucky had died, definitely not like this.
It shocked Natasha, if not striking her maternal instinct. Their Captain, strong and level headed Captain, lying on the floor, crying what seamed to be his heart out. She held him all the way through it, all the way as his breathing became more stable, the heart wrenching sobs disappeared and the tears were wiped away until no more followed.
Natasha was scared. What had happened to the strong Captain she knew to turn him into this?
The Captain's breathing began to deepen as exhaustion took him over and he fell into a currently dreamless sleep on Natasha's lap. She curled her legs in a criss-cross fashion to make him more comfortable, as she gently stroked his blonde hair back from his face. Looking down his body, she saw something black. Softly, so not to disturb Steve, she called for Clint, she knew that Steve would probably be angry at her later, for telling Clint and generally because she saw him fall apart, but he needed to know that he had people there for him. Clint wouldn't tell the team unless Nat have him the okay, which was beneficial to Steve. It was shocking enough for her to see him like this, a fully trained assassin, never mind what Stark would think. Despite him being a genius, she believed that his mind wouldn't be able to take such an piece of information. She and Clint both knew the after affects of torturing, and this definitely looked like that.
She heard the soft tread of Clint's boots as he made the way down to the bathroom. "Clint. Be quiet, or you'll wake him okay? Just whatever you do, don't wake him. And prepare yourself."
Clint had no idea what to say to that. The last time Nat had said that, she had stepped on a bomb trigger, on one of their missions.
What he saw he was definitely not prepared for. The Captain looked like he just went to hell and back. Twice. "He's been-"
"Yeah. I know." Nat interrupted.
"When?"
"Don't know. I assume this past week he hasn't been here..."
"God."
"Why didn't we-?"
"We didn't know Nat. There's no way we could've known."
Steve began to frown in his sleep, plagued by screaming, painful nightmares, he opens his mouth to scream, only for it to be clamped shut by Natasha. His eyes pop open suddenly, fearful, untrusting.
"Shhh, shh. We're not going to hurt you." The fear creeps out of Steve's eyes as he recognises the two assassins in front of him.
Bucky stands two feet away from Nat, 'Steve, what have you got yourself into?'
Steve mumbles something Natasha doesn't hear. "What was that Steve?" She asks, her hand no longer covering his mouth.
Bucky gives a devilish smile to Steve. 'Answer the pretty dame Steve, what did you say? I'm ready to drown your information in, and I'm feeling like that Clint guy is whipped.' Bucky mock puts his hand to his ear.
"I said, shut the fuck up Bucky!" Steve's voice rang out through the whole house.
Natasha and Clint looked at each other, both though the same thing: Bucky?
Hope you lot enjoyed, and please review! Any and all are welcome, be it one sentence or a novel, and I always like my work to be critiqued.
~ Love MJ