Chapter 36.

Skye followed Sam into the Tower and into the elevator, eyeing him a little uncertainly. "Where are we going?"

"Wherever you like," Sam glanced down at her with an affectionate smile. "I was just gonna drop your bag off in your room." Tony had prepared a whole floor for Coulson's team, and they each had a comfortable room permanently assigned to them, opening onto a well-appointed common room.

"I can carry it perfectly well," Skye pointed out.

"I wouldn't be any sort of gentleman if I let you do that, now would I?"

"I think you've been hanging around with the men from the forties too much," Skye chuckled. She took a deep breath. "Speaking of whom, how is Barnes?"

Sam eyed her, guessing that wasn't the man she really wanted to ask about. He answered anyway. "He's doing really well. Natasha has lots of experience with dealing with HYDRA brainwashing. It's been discussed putting him in the regressive memory machine thing you guys have…"

Skye shuddered. "Bad idea. Trust me. Really bad idea."

"I was going to say that it doesn't seem to be necessary. I won't say Natasha's methods have been easy on him, but they've been very effective. The only problem is that we're not sure if the gaps still remaining in his memory correspond exactly to the time he spent in cryofreeze."

Skye gnawed on her lower lip thoughtfully. "There must have been records kept somewhere of when he was frozen. You've checked his records against the recorded mission dates we found?"

They were deep in conversation about that, right through dropping Skye's bag in her room and Sam leading her back out again. The elevator doors were opening on the gym level when Skye suddenly became aware of her surroundings. "Uh, what are we doing here?"

"I thought you'd like to see the man you've been asking about," Sam said simply.

"Oh." Skye had never seen the Winter Soldier in the flesh. She'd seen the Smithsonian exhibit and the pictures of a young, handsome Bucky Barnes, and blurry shots of the Russian assassin in action, but – this man was neither.

His still-long black hair was pulled back into a simple tail at the back of his neck, which only emphasized the clean-cut beauty of his face. Pale and drawn, icy blue eyes intensely focussed as he attacked, even in baggy gym clothes he drew the eye. The fact that he was doing his best to beat the shit out of Iron Man – and doing a decent job of it – seemed almost secondary.

Barnes was aware of Sam and Skye as soon as they entered the room. "Who's the dame?" he grunted as Tony parried another strike, just in time.

"That's her, that's Skye, the chick Steve's all messed up over," Tony panted. Even enhanced by JARVIS, his reaction times were just too slow to keep up with Barnes. He was losing this fight without the ability to fly more than two feet off the ground, which they'd agreed was a limitation for this bout. Enforced by JARVIS, so Tony couldn't even cheat.

"Really?" Barnes backed off, which was all the invitation Tony needed to retreat too. They both bowed slightly to each other, signalling the end of the bout, and then Barnes turned.

"Hey, flyboy."

"James," Sam said cheerfully, "I'd like you to meet Skye."

Barnes wiped his sweaty human hand on his gym pants and offered it. Skye took it and was startled when he lifted it to his lips to brush a light kiss against her fingertips. "Delighted to meet you, ma'am." He gave her a distinctly roguish grin.

"Oh," she flushed slightly at the unexpectedly charming action. "Uh, me too."

"Hey Skye, nice to see you," Tony clomped past her in the suit. "Barnes, I'm fucked, and not in a good way. That said, I'm still not happy with the way your arm is functioning. Let's get down to the workshop. You too, flyboy, I wanna play with your wings some more."

James, still holding Skye's hand in his, gave her a regretful smile. "See you later, I hope, doll."

Skye's blush deepened. He was a blatant flirt. She hadn't expected that, despite the tales about that being part of his character back in the day. And how he'd been portrayed on that TV series she'd been so fond of as a girl. She'd thought the actor cast as Barnes had probably been more handsome than the real deal, but she was wrong. They'd got the casting about right. Except for those eyes…

Of course, the actor who played Steve fell short in every sense of the word, Skye's traitorous brain pointed out. No, no, I am NOT going to think about Steve… she was following the others towards the elevator when two words froze her in her tracks.

"Hello, Skye."

His voice. It triggered a sudden cascade of memory snippets for Skye; that deep, gentle voice murmuring softly to her as she thrashed beneath strong hands. She stood shaking, staring at the closing elevator doors, and the last thing she saw was the conniving grins of Stark, Barnes and Wilson.

Those bastards planned this.

Steve had wondered if he should avoid her. But Clint got right in his face and told him he was being an ass, that Skye felt bad enough over what had happened to her without having to wonder if he was disgusted by her. Avoiding her to salve his own feelings was the coward's way out, and Steven Grant Rogers had never been a coward. So when Sam had suggested letting her confront him in the gym, where she could put boxing gloves on and beat on him to her heart's content if that's what she wanted, Steve had eventually conceded. At least the meeting would be private. Tony had promised to order JARVIS to put the gym on lockdown until Steve requested otherwise. Skye couldn't escape hearing him out.

She turned slowly to face him, and Steve sucked in a shaky breath, because dear Lord, she was even lovelier than he remembered. Wearing a short denim skirt and knee-length boots, a pretty blouse and a lacy scarf around her neck, she looked fashionable, young, the epitome of a modern girl. And oh, so beautiful. His mouth went dry. He couldn't get out the words he'd rehearsed, about how good it was to see her again.

He looked gorgeous, Skye thought. Dressed in a tight white T-shirt and blue jeans – oh, God, whoever coaxed him into those Levis deserved a medal for services to womankind – his hair was damp. He'd obviously just showered. He looked like the perfect model for truth, justice, and the American Dream.

Skye, faced with all that perfection, reverted to her default defence mechanism and lost her temper. "What gives you the right to fucking judge me, Rogers?" she shouted. "Just because you're all morally upright and perfectly self-controlled doesn't mean the rest of us are scum because we don't want to follow your example all the time! For the record, I'd have really fucking enjoyed what you did to me even if I wasn't under the influence of that stupid drug, and I'm not going to let you make me feel bad about it!"

Steve's mouth fell open, and the pretty little speech he'd planned flew right out of his head as Skye stalked towards him. She stopped right in front of him, having to tip her head back to glare up at him since she was nearly a foot shorter than he was, and carried on laying into him with the rough side of her tongue.

"You're a bloody hypocrite! I've heard you talk about human rights and free choice, but apparently when it comes to women you're still stuck in the Dark Ages, any of us who don't save it until marriage are just whores in your eyes…" she jabbed a finger into his chest, still filled with self-righteous rage, and he grabbed her hand, then the other one when she brought it up to push at him.

"No," he said sharply. "Don't you dare call yourself that."

"Why not? It's what you think of me!" Skye's eyes filled with tears. "I thought we were friends," she choked out. "You promised it wouldn't change anything. If I'd known you'd avoid me like this, that you'd hate me, I wouldn't have asked you!"

Steve Rogers wasn't a good liar. And he couldn't, could not, allow Skye to go on thinking that he thought she was a – he couldn't even bear to think the word. So he told her the truth. "I haven't been avoiding you because I don't want us to be friends, or because I think you're not a good person. I've stayed away because – because I couldn't face you without thinking about touching you."

"Oh," Skye's tears dried as she thought about that. "Oh, Steve – I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable. I never wanted that." She frowned. "But – why didn't you say no? I'd have chosen Sam…"

The pure rage that filled Steve at the thought of any other man touching her almost sent him to his knees. It had nearly unmanned him just watching Bucky flirt with her, but Buck had insisted that he wanted to see Skye in person before he left Steve alone with her, and Steve had reluctantly agreed to let Sam introduce them. Bucky's grin at Steve as he got into the elevator told him that his best friend certainly approved of his taste.

"I'd have beaten Sam to a pulp before I let him lay a finger on you," Steve confessed finally. Skye's anger seemed to have finally run out of steam and she just stood there, tears trickling silently down her cheeks, though she seemed to be trying very hard to blink them away.

"What? Why?" Skye blinked uncertainly, trying to pull her hands out of his grasp to rub at her eyes. It was impossible, though, like trying to pull against gravity. An inexorable force, even though he wasn't hurting her hands.

"Because I didn't want anyone else but me touching you!" Steve finally lost it. "I want to kill Rumlow for what he dared to try, I want that Ward bastard dead for hurting you, I want – I want…" he ran down, letting go of her hands, turning away so he didn't have to meet the look in her dark eyes.

"What do you want?" Skye whispered, hardly daring to hope. She reached up and laid a hand gently on his back, feeling how tense his muscles were.

"You have to go," Steve said it, trying to keep his voice flat. "You need to leave, Skye."

"Not until you tell me what it is that you want." She walked around him, looking up at him. Reached up to frame his face in her hands, trying to make him look at her. "For too long, all you've done is focus on what other people want, what other people need from Captain America, haven't you? So, Steve Rogers. What. Do. You. Want?"

"I want you," he met her eyes, and she just about melted at the anguish she saw there. His hands came up, threaded through her hair gently, and she realised they were trembling. "I've wanted you since we sat right here on the gym floor in the middle of the night and – and I don't trust myself around you, you couldn't stop me if I – Skye, you need to leave." He was leaning down towards her, his eyes trained on her mouth.

"No." She smiled up at him. "You're incorrectly assuming that I'd want to stop you."

Steve swallowed. "Skye – this isn't about thinking that you owe me anything..?"

"Shut up and kiss me before you stuff that big foot any further down your own throoohh," Skye trailed off as he yanked her off her feet with a powerful arm around her waist and kissed her extremely thoroughly.

WELL.

Reckon that cleared the air suitably?

Hopefully, Steve will eventually remember that Skye does actually need to breathe…

And OF COURSE we know he'd never hurt her. But that doesn't stop him from being frightened that he MIGHT lose control, he wants her that much…