Chapter Four – Revelations
"I was. I'm not any more."
Rumlow stood, and Skye watched, frozen with fear, until he began the mundane task of collecting the dirty crockery and carrying it into the kitchen without so much as a glance at her. After a long moment she followed and stood in the doorway watching as he efficiently washed up.
"What do you mean, not any more? I didn't think people just got to leave HYDRA?"
Ward did, a little voice in her mind pointed out. Ward was Garrett's more than HYDRA's, Skye argued with herself. She almost missed Rumlow's quiet answer.
"They couldn't make me stay."
"But why?" she pressed. "You must have really believed in what you were doing. No one would have gone into that situation, fought against Cap and launched the Insight helicarriers, unless you believed. What changed?"
"I did." Elbow deep in washing up water, Rumlow sighed. "It's not important. But take my word for it, Skye, I'm not HYDRA. Nor is your boyfriend."
"He's not my boyfriend, he's my creepy stalker!"
Rumlow found himself grinning at that as Skye hobbled away. He heard her settle onto the couch with a put-upon sigh. And found himself hoping that Grant Ward wasn't smart enough to have a fail-safe plan to convince Skye not to kill him. Ward didn't deserve her. Creepy stalker, indeed. He had a slight chuckle at that.
Skye was sitting on the couch trying not to grind her teeth when Rumlow came out. He stood framed in the kitchen doorway looking down at her for a minute before she snapped; "Well, now what?"
"Now we wait."
"For what?"
"We already had this conversation, princess."
"Will you stop fucking calling me that!" The cabin tremored very slightly. Rumlow raised a mocking black eyebrow. Skye took several deep breaths.
"You need to get ahold of that, Skye." He moved, taking the table and chair back to their former places beside the wall before opening the wood stove and putting another log in. To her surprise, he then sat down on the rug on the floor, sprawling out quite comfortably. "It won't do you any favours if you let your anger control your powers."
He was right, and she thoroughly disliked him for it. "I know," she said through gritted teeth. "I'm still learning."
"Gettin' pissed off with me won't get you anywhere. Consider me the jail warden, if you like. Behave well and things will go just fine. Give me too much trouble and you'll find yourself chained to the bed again."
Something deep inside Skye reacted in entirely the wrong way to the thought of being chained to the bed with this dark, dangerous man leaning over her. As he turned his golden eyes towards her again, she found herself flushing.
Rumlow arched a surprised brow. "I thought you said not if I was the last man on earth?"
"I wouldn't! I was – thinking about someone else," Skye lied. The eyebrow stayed up, and she had the horrible, sinking feeling that he knew she was lying. How the hell had he known that she found the thought of being chained down and at his mercy somewhat arousing, anyway?
She wouldn't meet his eyes, looking around the cabin. There really wasn't much to see, but beyond the bathroom door, she spotted a low shelf filled with books. "May I read something, at least? Since it seems you've no intention of telling me anything and I certainly don't want to talk to you anyway?"
That came out badly. Goddamn it, he's laughing at me with his eyes again.
"Go ahead." He gestured at the bookshelf. "I apologise for not having a wider selection."
That – actually sounded genuine. Puzzling, puzzling man. Skye climbed off the sofa with a huff and headed over to the shelf, crouching to look.
This was even stranger. She didn't know what she'd expected but it wasn't the collection of literary classics. They looked well-thumbed, too. So he was well-educated, then – assuming they were his. She looked over her shoulder, found him watching her.
"These are yours?"
"Sure." That bloody eyebrow again, mocking her. She turned back to the shelf.
"I'm sorry if they're not to your taste," Rumlow said, watching Skye as she ran her finger along the spines of his books. "Or if you've read them all before."
"I haven't." She pulled a thick book, turned back towards him. "Well, if this sojourn gives me time to catch up on all the books I suppose I ought to have read, that's one good thing, hm?"
The book she'd chosen was War and Peace. He grinned. "Well, that should keep you busy for a while, at least."
"I read fast. Or I do when I'm reading on a proper electronic screen and not archaic paper," she sniped.
He chuckled. "Sorry, princess, but do you seriously think I'm going to hand you a weapon like that? I know what you're capable of."
She aimed a light kick at him as she made her way back to the couch, but there was no heat in it and he easily evaded, watching as she settled down and opened the book to the first page. She hadn't even turned the page, though, before she looked up at him over the book.
"If you're going to watch me read, you're heading over into creepy stalker territory too," Skye warned.
Dammit, he liked her. Liked her guts, her fearlessness. He couldn't help but laugh. And then he went and selected a book for himself, stretching out on the rug to read.
Skye read for what she guessed was about an hour. It wasn't the easiest book to get into, though – all the characters seemed to have three long complicated Russian names, and she could already tell the plot was insanely convoluted – and she couldn't quite keep from looking at Rumlow every now and then.
He was awfully attractive, she found herself thinking again. For an older man, anyway, she hastily added. Not that there was much to give his age away apart from a few wrinkles at the corner of his eyes, the way his forehead creased when he raised one of those mocking black eyebrows in her direction. He had a hell of a body, stretched out there on his front on the rug, broad shoulders tapering down to a narrow waist, snake hips and a tightly muscled ass. Propped up on his elbows as he read, his biceps bulged thickly, flexed slightly as he shifted to turn a page.
Skye lost herself briefly in appreciative contemplation, startled only when Rumlow moved slightly. She looked hastily back at her book and turned the page, suddenly aware that it must have been several minutes since she last did so. She had to turn back a moment later in complete confusion.
Finally Skye couldn't take the silence any more. She closed the book with a snap.
Rumlow turned his head to look at her. "You tired?"
"Kinda, which is weird since I slept half the day away in a drugged sleep, I'm guessing? And don't you dare give me that maddening smirk again."
He shrugged. "What do you want me to say?"
Skye took a deep breath. Asked the question she'd been afraid to voice from the beginning. "Are the others all right? Is the rest of my team – did anyone get hurt?"
To her surprise, he sat up and turned to face her fully, looking at her with something like sympathy on his face. "I'm sorry, but I truly don't know. It was a trap set to draw you out, of course. My job was to shoot you with a tranquilliser dart and take you away. I don't know what Ward and Doctor Zabo did after that."
"Shit, so my father was involved!"
Rumlow stared at her. "Well, of course he's involved. He's the one paying me."
"What?" Skye stared at him, ashen. "Ward and Cal are still working together?"
"Should they not be?"
It was too much. Somehow, she'd thought after San Juan, that Ward would have seen how much she hated Cal. How much she despised what a butcher he was. Thought that Ward would have understood that there was no possible way she would ever want anything to do with him, while he went along with her father's crazy plans for her.
The last tiny bit of affection she'd held for Ward, that last piece of her that had held her back from putting her bullets in his head instead of his side, withered and died. Skye put her head in her hands and burst into tears.