She felt the white-hot rage pulse through her and squeezed his hands tightly, forcing his gaze down to hers. His chest was heaving with barely restrained fury while his eyes blazed, burning straight into her heart.
She smiled at him. She'd never experienced anger or rage so strong in her entire life. She knew the Soldier was in there, fueling the flames, begging to be released. And yet, here he was, holding her fingers in a vice as he worked to slow his breathing, hanging on. It was working. The bond worked.
She held on to his hands and stared into his eyes as he fought to push it all back in, lock it all up for another day. She watched the steel recede and the blue brighten up as he exhaled a long, slow breath, and she watched his surprise as he realized it too. He was in control. He'd fought the Soldier and won this time, the first time he could ever remember that happening.
Her thumb stroking over the back of his hand brought him back, and his eyes were wide as he looked down at her again. Her smile widened, and he found himself smiling shy little smile right back at her.
She tilted her head and bit her lip. He was quickly realizing she did that when she wasn't quite sure how to tell him something without pissing him off. "Spit it out," he said gruffly, gently squeezing the two small hands he still held in his.
She nodded and sighed. "What exactly angered you? Were you upset you were tethered to me and not… not someone else? Or were you-"
He cut her off with a quick jerk of his head. "No, no if it was going to be anyone I'm glad it was you. I couldn't do that to Steve. He… I just… I couldn't do it."
She smiled softly and nodded, squeezing his hands again as she prodded. "But?"
His eyes met hers, and the sadness she saw there brought a pain to her chest and tears to prick the back of her eyes. "I'm upset I was tethered to someone at all. I'm pissed that was the solution. Your life is ruined! Your stuck with me for fucking ever! You've barely spent a few hours with me before this, and it was when I was fucking choking you or fucking interrogating you! You don't know me at all, and now you're stuck with me for the rest of your fucking life!" He was screaming by the end, breath hot on her face as he shouted and raged, hands holding hers tight enough to bruise as he let it all boil over, saying what he wanted, keeping in what was too afraid to contemplate just yet.
She let him yell, let him rail and squeeze and hold her tight as it bubbled out of him, and she fought to keep the tears out of her eyes when he finished with a huff. He wouldn't understand if he saw her cry, he'd think it was because of him, because of something he did. He wouldn't understand that he heart was breaking and her eyes were watering because he was so damn broken he thought it was a death sentence to be "stuck with him" for the rest of her life, like she had so many other fantastic options and being with him was ruining it all, ruining everything. He didn't think he was good enough to lick the dirt off her shoes, it was written all over his face. And in that moment, all she wanted to do was pull him close and cry, weep for the years he'd lost, weep for the memories that were long gone, weep for the anger and fear and anguish he lived with every day of his life.
But she couldn't. She couldn't let herself feel that, because he'd feel it too, and he'd resent her for pity or sadness or tears, she knew it. So instead, she stood still and serene and let him scream, let him yell and carry on. And when he finished, instead of shedding the tears fighting for release, she squeezed his hands, calling him back, and smiled.
"James," she said sternly, dropping her smile to gaze seriously into those steely blue eyes. He tried to look away, but she jerked his hands forward, forcing him to keep his eyes on hers.
"James. I had a choice. I could have said no, could have refused, could have walked out that door and never thought twice about leaving you behind. No one forced me to do this. There was no gun to my head, no threat, no fear."
"Then why?" His voice was so small, so unsure, and it made her heart melt all over again.
She sighed heavily before answering him. "Honestly," she smiled ruefully, "I can't really tell you. It was just, just something I felt like I needed to do. Bruce explained it all, and beyond being kind of overwhelmed, it never really occurred to me to say no. And when I came in here with Steve, to ask the Soldier who he wanted, he picked me. I looked in the face of the Winter Soldier, and, for whatever reason, he looked back. He actually looked back."
He watched her carefully, head tilted as he hung on to every word. He nodded in acknowledgement. She knew he'd felt it too.
"How long were you awake, before you first came into my cell? How long since the last time they'd wiped you?"
He frowned and pursed his lips as he thought back. "An hour, maybe too."
Her jaw dropped as he shrugged. "So, for all intents and purposes, you have a handful of hours of memories, and that's about it? And they were all centered around me?"
He shrugged again and nodded, confused once again as she started to smile. "No wonder the Soldier picked me, he didn't know anyone else anyways."
He actually chuckled at that, and the warmth in his eyes sending shivers of excitement dancing across her skin. "I guess so."
She pursed her lips and smiled wryly at him before swallowing. "Well, James. You're safe now, and somewhat free," she nodded towards the one-way mirror where she knew the team was watching closely. "I doubt they'll let you out of the building for awhile, but no one is going to wipe you or torture you or force you to do things anymore. So… what do you want to do?"
His eyes were wide as he looked around the room before settling back on her. "I have no idea." He turned to look over his shoulder towards the door. "How about actually meet 'the team'?"
She flashed a smile at him as she dropped his metal hand to hold his flesh one firmly in hers, pulling him along as she brought her other hand up to rest on his strong forearm. "I think that's a great place to start."
There were so many wires hooked up to him he felt more machine than man in that moment. Images were flashing in front of him, and he was calling out the name of the object before another took its place.
"And this one?" Dr. Banner's voice floated around him while the picture of a beach ball flashed on the screen.
"Beach ball. Are we fucking finished yet?" He growled.
Bruce just chuckled, clicking to advance to the next image. He swallowed hard. It was a black lace bra and thong set.
"Oops! Tony! Were you messing with my flash cards again?!" James heard Bruce yelling down the hall while he quickly shut off the screen. He couldn't get the image of the lingerie set out of his mind, and found himself wondering what Ella would look like in it, what Ella would wear under those tight jeans and blouses she was always wearing. Skinny jeans. That's what she'd called them. He was positive they were put on this earth to torture men in their dreams.
Suddenly wires were being pulled off, and he realized Bruce must have been speaking to him, hearing him say "well?" once again. He shook his head, clearing the thoughts of Ella before lifting to look over at Bruce. "What was that again?"
He sighed, unplugging the last few electrodes. "Did the cards spark anything today? Any memories at all?"
He shook his head frowning. "No. Still nothing."
Bruce clapped him on the shoulder as he stood up and turned to pack up his equipment. "Don't get discouraged, things may or may not come back, and we have no idea how long it could take. You're doing a great job."
He nodded back as he headed out the door, making his way to the elevator and pushing the button to his floor.
Well, his and Ella's floor. Bruce thought that Ella should be close by at all times, in case nightmares triggered a Soldier episode. He'd smirked when Bruce suggested they share a room and he watched as Ella shifted uncomfortably, blushing from the tips of her ears down to the tops of her breasts. His eyes had lingered, wondering how far down the blush went, until Steve interrupted that they could just share a suite with their own little kitchen and common room, and have separate bedrooms connected by their own bathroom.
He'd had to stop himself from practically growling, and had to calm his rage when he saw Ella glance over at him with confusion before agreeing that that would probably be a good idea. She'd felt his anger, and wasn't sure what exactly it was directed at.
He wondered about her, about this bond they had. She could feel it when his temper flared, and yesterday he found she could feel it when he'd stumbled and Tony had landed a particularly forceful punch when they'd been sparring in the training center. He'd come back to their suite to see her massaging her jaw and popping a few aspirin, eyes narrowing at him with annoyance. She'd mumbled about how super soldiers should be able to dodge tin cans, and he'd roared with laughter. Tin cans. He was saving that one for the next time Tony made some comment about him.
He'd been in Stark Tower for just under two months, and was just starting to feel like maybe he really could do this, this whole good guy thing. Nat and Clint, who he'd met the second day, treated him like he was anybody else, inviting him for trainings and card games and movie nights. Tony was the same asshole to him as he was to everyone else. Bruce was incredibly understanding and helpful, which was not surprising given his own monster he fought to control. And Ella? Ella was… There weren't really words for it, he'd decided. Ella was everything. She was the source of his sense of control, his strength when he was weak, his rock when the world felt like it was crumbling to pieces around him. She kept him together, kept him going, kept him fighting and hanging on. All with a sweet smile and a tender hand. And an occasionally (frequently) sassy mouth.
He smirked at that as he washed up in their shower. The things he wanted to do to that luscious, full, pouty little mouth.