A/N: SO SORRY, SO SORRY, this chapter took FOREVER to write. Totally my bad, I kept starting and not liking it and starting again and MY BAD, GUYS. Thanks for the reviews/follows, and sticking with this fic in spite of my suuuuuuper slow updates! :D
Oh, and to that one guest reviewer: Nope, no Elsanna in this fic.
Disclaimer: Disney owns all. The grammar/spelling errors are mine, though.
Winter Soldier
Chapter 13
Dimly, she's aware that a radio is on…she can hear the distinct crackle of static, the fuzziness around the words. And she accepts it—there had been a radio, right?
"Captain Comet faces his deadliest foe yet, the raging Red Fist!"
Skull, she thinks. Red Skull, red skull—
-That's what they called him. 'The Red Skull.' Anna had only caught glimpses; she remembered the night of the escape, how she had assumed it was the shifting flames playing tricks on her as she squinted through the bright orange light, and she had seen the glinting eyes, set deep in their sockets—too deep.
She stood before him now, coiled and taut as the string on a bow, and decided that the descriptions did the man no justice. He was something straight out of a nightmare; he was the devil himself. Fiery red face, skin pulled too tight across his cranium, no nose to speak of, and those eyes…
"You don't give up, do you?" His mouth was stretched into what could have arguably been a grin, but it was impossible to tell, with a face like that.
"Nope," she said, all false bravado and sass, charging forward as he fired his glowing blue weapon. It glanced off her shield, once, twice as he fired again, and she didn't give him a chance for a third. She brought her arm up in a smooth, fast arc, landing a solid punch to his gut.
He grunted, and the gun fell from his grip.
Ha! She had time for exactly one triumphant thought before his fist collided with her jaw. Her mouth shut with a painful SNAP and she fell to one side; she wasn't sure if it was the force of the hit, or the careening of the aircraft-
"-Captain Comet approaches the strange device, searching for an off switch!"
"Blast! It appears as though Red Fist's Doomsday Device runs on—"
"Phantom power!"
"Wha—No! It can't be!"
"Captain Comet turns and sees none other than the Red Fist himself! Red Fist cackles manically, as it seems our hero is doomed to fall!"
-Fall? Wait, that wasn't-
-She had to stop him.
He came at her again, where was her shield, where was her shield?! His boot connected with her stomach. She coughed, and out of the corner of her eye, saw him swing his leg back to repeat the action.
She caught his foot just in time, throwing him backwards and taking the split second opportunity to frantically search for—There!
She grabbed the shield and brought it up just in time to block his punch. He howled in anger—pain?—but was cut short when she pushed him back, pinning him against the metal railing that surrounded the sunken center of the flight deck. She had him now!
Or, she thought she had him.
The shield was pressed firmly against his chest, but his hands were free to reach up and grab it. With one rough shove, he effectively used her own weapon against her; her forearm was trapped in the leather straps as she stumbled back, painfully jarring her shoulder.
Time to lose the shield, she decided, breathing heavily as she snaked her arm out of the handholds. He must not have been counting on her to be so ready to give it up; there was a brief moment of surprise on his face—at least, the muscles were the brows should have been looked like they were raised in shock—before she let her fist fly. It hit him square between his deep-set eyes.
This was it; this was her opportunity to take him down. She grit her teeth, grabbed his shoulders and shoved as hard as she could.
They fell together, landing right on top of the controls.
Sparks flew, and the controls shrieked just before the plane took a steep dive. As she tumbled back, feet leaving the floor, ground now beside her rather than beneath her, she wished she'd paid more attention to just where, exactly, she was tossing the bad guy—
"—doomed to fail! Will this be the end of our intrepid hero-"
-Hand on her throat, the plane was going down, it couldn't end like this…
His grip tightened, and she struggled to decide where to hit him—it was made harder by the fact that she couldn't tell which way was up, which was down. She tried to move her arm, but found that gravity had other plans.
The plane continued to dive; turbulence shook the craft. She hit a rail, the impact a brief, fleeting kind of pain, not at all like the mounting pressure on her neck.
"Such a small young woman, and yet such a large problem," he snarled. Her vision was growing dark around the edges. Getting darker, growing dimmer…drowning.
(Drowning? How did she know what that felt like…?)
She wanted to throw the insult back at him—must be a shoddy operation, if all it takes to throw a wrench in your plans is one short super soldier—but she had to be smart. She had to make oxygen choices.
The metal rail dug into the small of her back—which meant that was in the general direction of 'up,' right?
Now that she had some semblance of bearings, she coughed and she kicked. Hard.
Her boot drove into his stomach, sending him spiraling…down? it didn't matter, the pressure was off of her throat, and she took in a greedy breath before clambering after him, hand over hand, working her way down the flight deck. If she could get to the controls and level the plane—
The ringing sound of a bullet striking metal alerted her to the pistol in his grip. Well great, just great—
"Give up, Captain—"
"This is your END, Captain—"
"—No…"
-He had leveled the plane, but now he was standing over the cube—the containment unit had been damaged in the free fall, and now the volatile artifact was just sitting on the floor—the Tesseract.
She'd thought, for some reason, that it would be more impressive up close. As she watched him stoop and pick it up, she felt anger gnaw at her insides. Anger and disbelief. It was no bigger than a baseball, blue and so seemingly inconsequential—people had died for the tiny box—Elsa had died because of that tiny box.
The anger soon turned to fear as the box began to spark and glow brighter. The Red Skull's face was no longer red, it appeared to blaze bright blue, wrapped in the intense light that the artifact was emitting.
Anna had the briefest flash of another bright blue light—the flash of one of their guns? No, no—this memory was different—she was in the dark, enveloped in cold, and the bright blue light was there—
"—Let go, you must let go, the Phantom Power will consume you!"
"Never, Captain Comet! I will not relinquish my power! YOU CANNOT STOP ME—"
-His screech was inhuman.
As the power ate at his bones, his flesh, his entire being, he let loose and unearthly howl, and Anna tried to hide from it, bringing her arm up and squeezing her eyes shut, but nothing could block out the sound.
And then, in a flash, he was gone.
And Anna wanted time. She wanted time to process, time to reflect on what the hell had just happened, she wanted time to come to grips with what she was about to do…
"—The selfless hero clambers through the wreckage, he cannot let the weapon discharge!—"
"—Rogers! What are you doing?! Can you hear me? Rogers? Rogers!"
-It was the only way, really.
The Tesseract was gone. It had burned through the Red Skull, it had burned through the plane. Had fallen into the icy waters below.
But the plane was still flying—just barely, but still on course for…for somewhere. And the minute it touched down, it would detonate. The weapons had been damaged, there was no way she could salvage anything.
Crash the plane, Anna. She told herself as she approached the controls. Her hand shook as she grabbed the yolk, but she was not afraid. Sad, certainly. Emotionally drained and physically tired, yes, but she was not afraid.
"Aren't you scared?" she heard Elsa ask her the question—she was back in the lab, strapped down to the metal gurney.
"Not anymore," she answered.
"Rogers, do you read? What's happening? Come in, Rogers! …Anna!"
"Hiya, Philips," Anna finally answered the frantic radio calls. How they managed to patch through was a mystery—one she'd never see solved. "Situation normal. Gonna bring this big guy down nice and…and easy…" she faltered a little on the last few words.
"There's got to be another way—just hold tight, we'll intercept—" She flipped the switch and Philips was gone.
Everyone was gone.
Anna was alone.
She kept her eyes forward, on the fast-approaching expanse of ice below. The sun was bright and orange, low in the sky—she reveled in the warmth that seeped through the large glass enclosure surrounding the cockpit, knowing she had precious few seconds of heat left.
The frame of the aircraft shook violently. Anna braced herself, teeth grit and eyes shut tight.
Memories danced behind her eyelids.
The shifting orange light and the dark blue shadows that approached were playing tricks on her mind—she was back in the dark place, the cold place. (She really was cold—the warmth of the sun was gone—the biting chill of the ice was sweeping over the plane as it rocked and shuddered and submerged beneath the sheet of ice. Anna was jostled a bit, but otherwise no worse for wear…) She paid no attention to the plane, the crash—she was trying to remember something. Something just beyond her reach…
The cold. The dark. It was…oddly quiet? The kind of quiet that pulsed in your ears. Or was that…was that water? Water, she was under water.
And she was drowning.
Her clothes were heavy, and so were the ice skates on her feet. She flailed and floundered and she was afraid.
Her energy was quickly spent—all that trashing…it hadn't felt like she was madly using up all of her strength, as her arms moved slowly, speed tempered by the water surrounding her—but there she was, drifting down, down, down to the dark bottom of the fjord.
But then, it wasn't so dark anymore.
A flash of blue light. Strong arms around her middle, someone pulling her to the surface—
Anna gasped as her eyes shot open, the memory sudden and almost violent in its intensity. She remembered. She remembered, and she…and she…
She slumped forward, head in her hands. The cold was complete now, everywhere around her, inside of her. She already felt herself growing tired.
Was this how her sister felt? How her sister had felt her entire life, with the ice inside of her?
God, she remembered now, and more so than before, so many things made sense. But she didn't really care about that—she didn't care about the puzzle pieces fitting together smoothly at last. She was hung up on one small detail.
Elsa had saved her life. And Anna hadn't returned the favor.
She was slumped across the controls now, eyelids and limbs heavy. Her breathing was slowing, just as the temperature was dropping.
I'm sorry, Elsa, she said. Thought? I'm sorry. I understand now, and I'm so, so sorry…
She closed her eyes.
See you soon.
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"—see our hero again soon, next week during another thrilling installment of CAPTAIN COMET, SPACE SAVIOR! Until then, be sure to pick up Lucky Brand Soap, their suds are out of this world—"
No. No. No.
It's all wrong.
She opens her eyes and expects it to hurt. It doesn't—the light is bright, but not painfully so. It flits in along with a gentle breeze, through the open window beside the bed.
She's in her room.
And that's her radio, on the far side of the room, perched atop her dresser. The drawers are just how she left them—opened, with clothes spilling out, onto the floor in messy heaps.
There's her school pennant, pinned above her desk. A textbook has been left opened—she remembers leaving it like that, she remembers using the newspaper clipping about Howard Stark as the bookmark and there it is.
It's all right there.
And yet, she knows…it's wrong.
She sits up and winces. Ah, there's the pain. Her muscles protest the movement—like she's slept wrong. She's stiff and sore and her legs don't like it, when she swings them out of bed and stomps to the door. She grabs the knob and gives it a twist.
It's locked.
She never had a lock on her door at home.
Her unease spikes. This isn't right. She's supposed to be dead. She went down with that plane, and…and…
She has a sudden, terrifying thought. What if…what if Hydra somehow got a hold of the plane—the Tesseract! What if she's being held in some sort of…what is this, a prison?
"Captain Rogers—" The voice comes out of the radio and at first she thinks it's the program—Captain Comet. But the voice speaks up again. "I know you're scared, but we need you to remain calm, we're going to explain everything in just a mome—"
She punches the wall.
A fist-sized hole appears, and that's all she needs. Soon she's tearing apart the plaster, the doorframe. She's impatient, though, so she throws her weight against the weakened spot, and tumbles right into the middle of a ring of troopers.
Hydra! Her mind screams, and she lashes out, grabbing the nearest one and throwing him bodily towards the others.
They crumple easily.
She makes a break for it, running blindly—vaguely, she hears shouts of don't shoot! Don't shoot! She doesn't pause to listen, though, she keeps running.
The hallways are smooth and sleek and people walk by in suits, springing into action the minute they see her, dressed down in fatigues and missing her boots. (Well, if this isn't a familiar situation…) All she can think is that everything looks wrong and it reminds her of the metal hallways in the Hydra base, lit by those awful blue lights.
Up ahead, the unnatural light gives way to what looks like actual sunlight. A way out? Anna hopes so, because she's running towards it at full tilt and she'd really hate to encounter another trap.
It is a way out—she bursts through some doors and…and she really doesn't know what she was expecting. The building had been disorienting enough…but this…
She knows she should keep running, but she simply can't. She's too…stunned. Too overwhelmed by…by the buildings? The noise, the lights…the people…
She's standing in another world. A world she doesn't recognize. People move around her in a never ending tide, strange buildings line the street and tower above her, the street is deafening.
"At ease, soldier."
She slowly turns at the sound of the unfamiliar voice behind her. It doesn't occur to her that it could be addressing someone else—there seem to be hundreds—thousands? of people all around her.
But her brain isn't working so well. She's a soldier. So she turns.
"Captain Rogers," a tall man in a dark coat extends a hand. He's has an eye patch of all things.
She knows she should probably shake his hand—that's what you do when you greet someone, right?—but again, brain? Not working too good. So she just stares.
"Name's Fury." He says conversationally, like they're just having a nice little chat. "I apologize for...this." he gestures to the street. "We'd planned on this going a whole lot more smoothly."
"Where…where am I?" is the best she can manage.
"…Manhattan."
This is not Manhattan. It looks nothing like Manhattan.
"Where am I?" She demands, and the slight clicking that follows alerts her to the fact that she's surrounded by more troopers—she hadn't even realized.
He doesn't answer her. He just stands there…almost like he's…waiting?
And then she looks around. Looks again at the buildings, tries to ignore all the people and the…the…signs? Screens?
It…it does seem a little…the buildings are sort of…
She stares at him.
"…I don't…"
He steps forward, and she flinches, but he doesn't seem like he wants to harm her. If she didn't know any better, she'd say he looks a little…sad?
"You've been…asleep. For a very long time."
"…What?"
"Seventy years, Cap," he says, using a nickname she'd never thought she'd hear again—especially not from this man. "You've been asleep seventy years."
Anna sways a little. Nothing makes much sense anymore.
The man nods towards one of the troopers, and he steps forward, gently steadying her. She's too shocked to really react. Seventy years…she's…that's…
"Welcome to the twenty-first century, Anna."
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END PART 1
A/N: Wooooo okay! So yeah. Apologies if this is sort of a confusing chapter? I tried to format it to make it clear what's happening, but...yeah, FF is sorta limited in that sense. Oh well.
Fun fact! (Not sure if I mentioned this before, so I might be repeating myself, but...) I never intended for the Cap: First Avenger stuff to be more than a few chapters of flashbacks, but it sort of...got away from me? So yep, there's...11 chaters worth of flashbacks, I guess, which is sorta why I glossed over the Red Skull stuff. The plot was always meant to focus on the Winter Soldier storyline, so...NOW THE FUN BEGINS. (Well. Next chapter, anyway.) So yeah, next chapter! Not a new 'part II' fic, or anything. Hopefully that's not too confusing.
Anyways, thanks for the reviews and follows! Not necessary but certainly appreciated! So, if you'd care to leave one, that's great, but if not, that's okay too! Hope it's an enjoyable read, either way. :D