Chapter 1

Surprised to hear a knock at the door, as it was quite late, Thea put down her tea cup on the table in front of her and got up from the sofa slowly. As she pressed into her crutches so she could cross the floor, she wondered if she was going to be able to use the cane the next day or if she would be stuck on crutches for a fourth day in a row. If she didn't admit to her brother that she had been having another flare soon and he found out, then he was going to kick up a fuss again about her living on her own.

The person at the door knocked again more aggressively, so Thea began to quickly unlock all the locks and turned off the alarm as she pulled the door open. There was no one there. Confused, Thea started to close the door again when she was swiftly pushed inside, and the door slammed shut. As she stumbled and fell into the wall where she had been shoved by the intruder, Thea looked up into the face of the man in front of her and nearly screamed with fear at the roughness in his fierce expression.

The man placed a hand over her mouth and stood there panting for several moments as he scanned her face. He then stared emotionlessly at her as he growled, "I will not harm you if you comply."

His long, shaggy dark hair and a scruffy beard hid much of his face, but she could see the cold blue eyes that were glaring down at her as he waited for her to agree to cooperate. She nodded her head and tried to keep her balance despite being held incredibly firmly against the wall by the man's left arm.

"No sound."

She nodded again, so he removed his hand from her mouth. Thea tried to keep from making any sound, but a small sob of fear came out as she watched him fearfully.

He looked around the room—clearly assessing all the possible sources of danger and anything strategically useful—and then turned back to her. As he kept his eyes on her, he reached his free arm over to the door locks and rapidly put all four back on. His voice croaked as he commanded, "Kitchen. Walk in front."

Thea found herself released and tried to stabilise as quickly as she could. Then she started to work her way across the floor towards the door, the clicking sound of her crutches seeming louder than normal as she wondered fearfully whether the intruder was going to let her go once he got what he wanted or if he would just kill her. As soon as they entered the kitchen, she turned her head and whispered, "What do you want?"

He jerked his head towards the sink. "Water. Food. Then bandages."

Surprised, she asked anxiously, "Oh. Are you badly hurt?"

He shook his head angrily, "Water and food first."

"Erm…what do you want me to make you?"

The man glared at her silently, so Thea hurried over to the bread box and pulled out a loaf of bread. Propping one crutch against the table, she limped with the other to the refrigerator and pulled out a container of chicken salad mixture. She made a sandwich as quickly as possible and placed the plate on the table next to where he was standing. When the man didn't say anything, she went to the cupboard and got a glass that she filled with water.

"Is that all right?"

The man grunted and said, "Sit."

Thea lowered herself into the second chair at the table and waited to see what he was going to do. This was when she saw it: his entire left arm was made of metal and had a large red star on it. It was that man who had been on the news a few months ago; the one who had attacked Captain America. She felt herself begin to shake with fear but did not speak, as he dropped into the other chair and began eating the sandwich ravenously with both eyes trained on her much like a skittish stray dog. When he was finished, he downed the entire glass of water at once and made a small sound like a sigh before he fiercely stated, "Bandages."

"I…I only have plasters. Band-aids, I mean. I don't have anything large. Are you very badly hurt?"

He stood up and glared down at her, as he instructed, "Get a sheet, large towel, and alcohol."

Thea used one crutch to push herself up from the table and then snatched up the other one, so she could head out of the room and towards the linen cupboard. She heard him follow but did not turn around. As she pulled out the towel and a sheet, she turned back to him and asked, "Would you hold them? I need both crutches to get into the bathroom."

He snatched them from her and allowed her to walk into the bathroom. She lowered herself gingerly down to get the bottle of alcohol from underneath the sink. "Do you want antibiotic ointment or any other medicine?"

He entered the bathroom and shut the door behind him, causing her to yelp with fear. He grunted, "Scissors."

Thea opened a drawer with one shaking hand and pulled out a pair of white-handled scissors, which she held out to him. He did not take them, but instructed, "Sit." As soon as she sat on the edge of the bathtub, he took her crutches and placed them far away from her by the door. Then he handed her the sheet and said, "Make strips."

As soon as she unfolded the sheet, Thea looked up and saw that he had taken off his black tactical vest and was pulling off the black shirt underneath it. Her face suddenly uncomfortably red, she asked nervously, "How long do you want them?"

He did not reply but leant against the counter of the bathroom and watched her.

Understanding that he was not going to explain further, she took the scissors and began to pull them through the sheet until she had cut off a full strip of the fabric. Looking up at him for guidance, she paused to see if she was doing it correctly. When he still said nothing, Thea began to cut another full strip. When she was done that one, he said tersely, "Bring them here."

She tried to get up but found it impossible after several abortive tries. Finally, he moved towards her, picked her up firmly by the upper arms, and placed her down in front of the sink. Taking the two strips of sheet from her hand, he shoved the towel in hers. It was clear to her that he now wanted her to clean his wounds, so Thea wet the towel under the warm water. She moved her hands to begin with the gash on his face, but he pulled away sharply. He turned incredibly quickly and leant his hands against the counter. Thea then saw the horrible wounds on his back and gasped. "Are you sure you want me to clean them with just water? It's going to hurt awfully. You have so many of them. You could use the shower first."

He laughed roughly. "While you call the police."

"I wouldn't. You'd feel less manky. I'll even stay in here where you can see me if you want. They are all going to get infected if you don't wash them well."

He placed his face directly overtop hers and hissed, "I will restrain you."

"I promise I won't move. The ones on your back are horrid. They need better cleaning than just water and a towel."

He pulled a black zip tie out of his pocket and slipped it over her hands. He then brought out a second one, slipped it over her feet, and pulled tightly. Thea was left sitting on the toilet seat with her wrists and ankles stinging and the man staring at her intensely. He began to pull on the belt to his trousers, so she closed her eyes and looked away with deep embarrassment. She could hear him tug both legs of his trousers off and then both boots fall to the ground. Then she heard a series of sharp clunks as things were placed on the counter of the bathroom, but she didn't dare open her eyes to look. Finally, the water to the shower turned on and she heard him step inside.

It was quite uncomfortable perched where she was, unable to move and afraid to open her eyes. Yet she could hear him grunt with pain several times and wondered if he had worse injuries than she had seen. He didn't take long. Her brother Christopher had always teased her about how long her showers took, but she didn't see the point in 'combat showers' if one wasn't actually in a warzone. The man, despite being covered in grime and injuries, had taken a shower every bit as short as Christopher ever did. She heard the curtain slide back again and squeezed her eyes shut even more than before, so she wouldn't accidentally see anything.

Thea could hear him drying off and then the sound of cloth being pulled over skin. Then he moved closer to her, which caused her to begin panicking and breathing shallowly. Yet when the bonds on her hands were snipped off, Thea looked up and saw that he was now crouching down to remove the bonds on her ankles and he had nothing on but some tight black pants. She exclaimed, "Oh!"

He looked up and asked blankly, "What?"

"You…your…" She was looking away determinedly and gesturing towards him. "No trousers."

"It doesn't matter. Come clean the wounds with the alcohol."

Mortified and overwhelmed with embarrassment and fear, Thea pulled herself up and picked up the towel from where he had tossed it. She soaked a portion of it in alcohol and turned back towards him. He had propped himself against the counter, so his back was facing her. Therefore, she began dabbing the towel against several long gashes on his bare back, periodically washing the towel in the water and then soaking it in more alcohol and returning to cleaning. Finally, he turned around. She could not feel comfortable this close to him, especially when he wore nearly nothing and was quite likely to kill her with any of the impressive array of weapons on her bathroom counter or just his bare hands. She didn't feel as if he would care about her embarrassment at all. Therefore, she forced herself to tentatively begin cleaning the angry scratches and lacerations that ran along nearly all his abdomen, as well as some ugly purple bruises and black marks that were criss-crossed by numerous scars. "Do you want me to do that one on your arm? I think it might hurt less if you do it though."

He nodded once and waited for her to begin dabbing at the nasty slice that crossed his upper arm. He seemed nearly impervious to the pain as she tried to get all the dried blood out and then asked him, "Do you want to do the leg now? I mean…it looks bad." Her face brilliant red, she stammered, "Maybe you would prefer to clean it?"

Once again, he did not reply, so Thea turned the water back on, rinsed the towel, soaked it in a lot of alcohol, and very hesitantly started working on his thigh wound. She could not believe that he had been able to walk let alone function with the degree of injuries that she had seen. He hardly reacted when she worked, despite her clumsiness and the severity of his wound. Finally, she said, "I'm finished, I suppose. I am sorry that I'm not quite sure what I'm doing. I hope it wasn't hurting too much when I pressed on it. Are there any others?"

He shook his head and watched her for a moment before he replied, "Just minor. Pour the alcohol over it."

"Oh but that much alcohol on it will you hurt horribly. Are you sure?"

He looked at her furiously, so Thea picked up the bottle of alcohol and unscrewed the cap again. "This is going to sting a lot, I'm so sorry. I promise I'll do it fast as I can." She let some of the alcohol gush over the thigh wound and looked up at him apprehensively. "Is that enough?"

He picked up the sheet strip and began to expertly wrap the wound. Then he stood up, so close to her that she could smell the strange mixture of her floral scented shampoo and his natural scent. At least he no longer smelled as sweaty and grotty as before, but it was odd smelling her lavender body wash on a man. He took the alcohol bottle from her and poured the remaining portion over his abdomen and arm. He quickly wiped off his face with the still damp towel, but he did nothing to the cuts and scratches there. He next used the remaining strip of sheet to bind the arm wound and then asked, "Who else lives here?"

"Just me."

"I need other clothing."

"Oh! I have my brother's gym bag. I mean, Richard isn't as big as you, but his gym clothes might stretch."

He nodded, gathered two of the wide assortment of weapons on the counter, and then picked up her crutches to give to her. Thea led him down the hall and into the spare bedroom where there was a pile of luggage on the bed. "It is the black bag there."

He unzipped it and yanked out the contents. The long-sleeved, dark blue shirt was at least a size too small, but he tugged it over his head anyway. Thea wondered how he even got the sleeves over his broad shoulders it was so tight, then questioned whether her brother's sweatpants would be able to fit the man at all. Her brother was tall but slight, whereas this man was extremely muscular. She turned away, so he could change, but he said, "Sit."

Surprised, Thea turned to sit down on the chair and then closed her eyes tightly. As she waited, she heard him slide on the trousers. After a moment in which he seemed not to have moved, Thea risked opening her eyes and saw that the trousers definitely did not fit. "Oh dear, I was worried they might be too small. My brother is almost your height, but he is very slender."

The man pulled the cord out of the sweatpants, pushed them down on his hips, and pulled his shirt down over it. He then pulled out a pair of socks and asked, "Shoes?"

"Aren't there some trainers in there? Maybe he didn't leave them in the bag. He might have worn them home. I'm sorry. There might be shower shoes in there though."

He dug into one of the pockets and pulled out blue plastic slippers. He looked a bit perplexed but shoved his feet in them. He then asked roughly, "When is someone next supposed to come here? Do not lie."

"No one should come at all. I'm not expecting anyone."

In a cold, flat tone, the man said, "If someone comes to the door, then I will assume they are my enemy and kill them. Therefore, be very certain you are not lying to me now, if you don't want someone you care about to die."

Thea stammered, "I-I'm not. I'm not, I promise."

He pushed the bags on the bed onto the floor and said, "Lay down."

Absolutely terrified, she wailed, "Please, no!"

Rage filled his eyes and he snarled, "If I had come for that, then you would already know. Lay down and sleep." He sat in the chair where she had been and laid his gun in front of him. "Quiet."

She saw that he was pointing the gun towards the doorway and not her, so she laid down and began to pray desperately. It seemed like the man was going to stay for a while.