A/N: Oh boy. Looks like I have some explaining to do. I mean, technically, I don't have to—but I want to because I feel bad. Basically, this whole year has been pretty bad for me in terms of stress. I suffered with an illness in the spring that really drained my strength. Right after I updated this story the last time (I believe it was the day before Civil War came out), my life basically went up in flames in a bad way. I somehow managed to update my other story a month later, but that was basically all I could manage. I won't explain exactly what's been going on because A) it's personal, and B) I don't think you guys care much for the details. But I had to take a mental health break in a major way. I took a break from pretty much all of my social media and even my friends in real life. It's been a really bad few months and I'm only just now starting to get better. So thank you for being patient! Updates for both of my other stories are definitely on the way, since I'm finally now feeling a little better, and I'm definitely going to try and get back into the groove of updating all my stories pretty regularly. I just wanted to thank you guys for your patience. I love all of you. Hope you enjoy this chapter! Let me know what you think in the reviews.
Sophie woke and was horrified to find that unlike the last time she and Winter had slept close together, he hadn't vanished before she'd woken—but in fact was closer to her than he had been when they'd gone to bed. His human hand was draped over her waist, one of his legs was hooked over hers, and she thought the top of his head was pressed into her back between her shoulder blades.
She lay there, frozen, hardly daring to breathe. This was incredibly awkward and more than a little frightening. What should she do? Should she just lay here frozen until he woke up? Going back to sleep wasn't an option. She would never be able to relax now. She wanted to move away from his grip. It was making her extremely uncomfortable. But would he wake if she moved? Would he attack her?
The light in the room was a pale gray with a hint of bright gold peeking in from behind the curtains. Hardly daring to breathe, Sophie began inching closer and closer to the wall until she was almost licking it. The pressure from his head or whatever disappeared—but his hand was still on her waist and his right leg was still resting on hers. Moving as slowly and gingerly as she could, holding her breath, she sat up and inched away from him. His hand fell off her waist but he didn't move. She wrapped her arms around her legs in the far corner of the bed, studying him. Aside from the time she'd woken up after the plane crash and found him unconscious, she'd never seen him in such a vulnerable state. He was sound asleep, curled up in an almost-fetal position.
He must have been more exhausted than I thought, she mused. She'd assumed he was like a robot, able to run efficiently for forever, never really needing sleep or food. She'd been wrong and it was just one more thing that convinced her he was a proper human in her eyes. She studied his face carefully. It looked strange when it wasn't glaring, sneering, scoffing, scowling, or staring at her with dead eyes. His lips were slightly parted and he really could have used a good shave now. His eyelids looked like a pale lavender color in the pale gray-gold of the morning and his dark hair was pushed away from his pale forehead. He looked like a normal guy in his mid- to late twenties. A cute boy. She couldn't help but think that last thought; after all her years reading romance novels, she was a romantic at heart and she couldn't help but see that he was handsome. If only he had been a normal human being…
But then, of course, Sophie would never have met him. Because Sophie never went out and Sophie always turned down boys and she never approached them on her own.
His eyes suddenly snapped open and she couldn't help but jerk backwards and let out a gasp, clapping a hand to her mouth. He stared at her and her cheeks flooded with color at being caught staring at him but he didn't look scary or empty; he looked a little confused, a little bleary…
He looked like a normal person waking up.
She watched him carefully, relishing these moments, because she knew they would go away soon. And sure enough, he slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes and throwing his shoulders back out wide, and when he pulled his hands away from his face, he looked as stoic and steely as ever. She sighed inwardly to herself. The madman was back. Although…if she was going to be really fair…he wasn't a madman. She had to grudgingly admit this to herself now.
Hydra, on the other hand, did seem to be filled with madmen. What other kind of people could employ someone like the Winter Soldier?
In fact, what other kind of people could do something like this to someone like the Winter Soldier? The way he'd called himself Hydra's asset, she had a feeling that it was Hydra that had messed him—whoever he had been originally—up beyond belief.
Which didn't make her feel any better about the fact that he was still delivering her to them. What if they did similar things to her? Would Sophie forget her own name? Would she be turned into an empty-eyed and empty-souled killer? Would she be dragging innocent girls and boys from their homes and forcing them to utilize their talents and money for evil? Or would Hydra bypass all that and simply hold her captive for forever, using her talents to do whatever evil things they wanted?
Ihuicatl and her husband had slept on a thin blanket on the floor, which made Sophie feel extremely guilty. Both of them had gotten up long before Sophie had woken up, though Sophie had woken quite early. Ihuicatl fed them both breakfast—some type of sweet, mushy white porridge that had a nutty flavor with orange fruit slices sprinkled in—and then she was ushering them to the door. Sophie realized with a rush that they were leaving so she abandoned all propriety and gave Ihuicatl a huge hug, tears pricking her eyes at the woman's kindness. She'd never expected a stranger to be so giving and it broke her heart that she couldn't thank her properly or ever visit her again. All she could do was babble, "Gracias, muchas gracias," again and again and hope that they got the message.
Ihuicatl's husband led them down the road to a large wooden wagon piled high with what looked like corn…except the husks were a very pale cream color and had spots of purple and pink stained onto them as if paint had been dripped on them. Two horses were driving the cart and a man with a wide-brimmed hat was perched on a small seat attached to the front of the wagon, driving the horses. Ihuicatl's husband motioned towards the wagon, gesturing for them to get in. "He take you to bus," he explained. Sophie nodded gratefully and allowed him to help her into the wagon, since Winter had already nimbly clambered up (a gentleman he clearly was not).
Ihuicatl's husband spoke with the man leading the wagon, gesturing to Sophie and Winter, and then he nodded at them and took his hat off. "Goodbye," he said solemnly.
"Goodbye!" Sophie cried. "Thank you! Please thank Ihuicatl for me!"
The village children had somehow realized that the strangers were leaving because they walked alongside the wagon (which was going at quite a slow pace) for quite a ways, waving at both of them, before they fell back and stood by the side of the road, waving goodbye at them. Sophie waved at them until they turned around a bend and the children fell out of sight. Then there was nothing to see but the dusty road behind them and the mountains dotting the landscape, valleys and plains interspersed in between. Sophie felt a pang of sadness at leaving the village behind. She'd only been there one day but such friendly people…
She settled back onto her perch on the mound of corn, trying to dig a little seat for herself. She had a feeling they'd be here for a while so she may as well get comfy, right? Sitting on ears of corn wasn't exactly comfortable but eventually she'd dug herself into a little seat that felt okay. She let her left arm rest on the wagon's edge and stared out at the scenery passing her by. Despite having ears of corn press up against her butt and legs, sitting in a swaying wagon with her violent kidnapper, being taken towards the destination where she would surely be tortured or used for nefarious purposes…Sophie was at peace. Just for this very moment, looking out at the silhouettes of mountains, the green plains and steppes, the pale blue skies, she felt temporarily at peace. Life sucked but at least the view was great!
However, the view got old eventually. It was probably ungrateful of her but there was only so much you could look at mountains and valleys and the sky before you had really seen it all. They passed through a few villages but had picked up their pace and didn't stop anywhere. She wished she had one of her favorite books but the wagon was jostling so much that she probably would have gotten motion sickness trying to read anyway. Eventually she closed her eyes and let herself rest. She didn't fall asleep but she fell into a sort of stupor, lost in daydreams about her apartment and her parents and curling up with a good book on her couch… She briefly wondered for one crazy moment what would happen if she leaped from the wagon and made a run for it—but as soon as she thought of the plan, she realized how stupid it was. Where would she run? Who would she go to for help? Besides, he was much faster than she was. He'd leap off and come after her and then he would physically drag her back to the wagon.
"So what does Hydra want to do with me?" she asked conversationally, hands folded on her stomach, eyes still closed. He didn't respond and she opened one eye to see him staring at her as if he couldn't believe she was talking about this so casually. "Well?" she pressed. "They seem like a pretty big deal, H—"
He slammed a hand over her mouth so hard that she let out a cry of pain. "Don't say their name out loud again," he hissed. Sophie tried to bite his hand but he yanked it away in time. She tasted blood and touched her lip; he had split it. Just like old times, she thought bitterly, wiping the blood away with her sweater's sleeve. Her mouth tasted like coppery tears.
"Fine," she said angrily. "What do they want with me, huh? After all this, the least you could do is tell me."
He was silent for a long moment. Then— "I don't know." The admission was said in a low voice.
"You don't know," Sophie repeated. She'd guessed that he didn't know why they wanted her but she had to admit, she'd thought he'd have some clue what they would do with her once they got her.
"It's not my job to know," he said coldly.
"Right," she said just as coldly. "It's just your job to fetch—like their dog. What was it you called yourself? Their asset. Good boy, asset. Sit, asset. Jump, asset—"
He leaned in close to her face, looking livid, blue-green eyes narrowed, and hissed, "Shut up. Right now."
She leaned in close to him as well (though she had to angle her face upward) until they were almost nose-to-nose and hissed back, "Make me." It was a stupid and dangerous thing to say but she was tired of giving him the benefit of the doubt when he refused to tell her anything and was clearly still planning on delivering her to Hydra. Why the hell did she even care if he'd been tortured or brainwashed? Why was she wasting her time trying to figure his story out? He didn't deserve that, did he? He'd done nothing but hurt her and cause her misery and pain. He didn't deserve her sympathy at all!
He roughly grabbed her chin with his metal thumb and forefinger, pinching it hard and jerking her face up so she was staring directly at him. She nearly shrieked at the pain but bit her lip hard to keep from crying out, her eyes stinging. I won't give him the satisfaction. I WON'T. "I can," he said dangerously, leaning in so close she could have kissed him—or ripped his nose off with her teeth. Either or. "Don't. Forget. That." Then he roughly let her go, letting her jerk backwards and hit her head on the back of the wooden wagon.
The man sitting behind them—who had largely been ignoring them so far—let out a cry of shock and twisted around, clearly asking Sophie if she was okay. She nodded and smiled and waved it off, resisting the urge to rub the back of her head. The man gave Winter a disapproving look and then slowly turned back around.
After their little tiff—and Sophie privately thought to herself that it was amazing she could call such a thing a tiff now—they sat in silence. She stared resolutely away from him, making sure to pointedly look in the opposite direction from him, but she could feel his eyes locked on her. It made her skin feel prickly and uncomfortable, a hot itchy feeling creeping up her neck and cheeks and ears. She didn't like being stared at, a leftover from all her years shyly ducking away from the spotlight. She sat there for as long as she possibly could but finally she snapped and turned to him and demanded, "Do you have to stare at me? What do you think I'm going to do, fly away into the sky?"
His expression didn't change as he stared at her but she thought she saw something smug glinting in his eyes. He's doing it on purpose to make me feel uncomfortable! Fury rose up in her and before she could control herself, she had grabbed an ear of corn and chucked it at him as hard as she could, snapping, "Stop STARING!" His hand shot out and grabbed the corn but she had already thrown another piece, saying, "Look away!" and this one smacked him right in the face.
She hadn't expected that. She froze, holding her breath and staring at him. How was he going to retaliate? She hoped it didn't involve ramming an entire ear of corn down her throat whole or something like that but with him, it seemed like she never knew. (And yes, she was aware that her imagination was running wild again.)
He tossed the ears of corn aside, rubbing his face, but instead of looking angry…he looked thoughtful. Almost contemplative. His eyes were narrowed but he looked like he was pondering something. A chill stole down Sophie's spine; she didn't like that look. That look made him seem like he was planning something. Her punishment? "Sorry," she squeaked, unable to stop herself. Perhaps if she apologized… "I didn't think it would— I thought you would grab it."
His head tilted to the side slightly as he surveyed her and she felt even more uncomfortable. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was going to pay for this. She remembered how he had reacted the last time she'd been really insolent towards him: he'd slapped her so hard her balance had been thrown off and she'd bled badly. It was clear he wasn't going to respond anytime soon so she buried her face into her drawn-up knees, trying to avoid his gaze. Her cheeks felt hot and her heart was beating a bit too fast. She realized she was anxious and afraid. She'd gotten…complacent with him, the last few days, but the terrifying, cunning look in his eyes now reminded her of what he was capable of.
The wagon jostled on and Sophie eventually lifted her head to watch the sky slowly change colors. Pale blue began to streak with orange and gold tones, slowly puffs of pink blending into the sky, turning the entire world into a beautiful marble. The pink and blue mixed to form lavender which darkened to purple bordering on deep blue. The mountains began to appear as distant silhouettes and Sophie had the feeling that they were passing their way out of the mountain chain completely. They'd been heading on a steady downward slope at a low-grade angle and the air seemed to be getting heavier, her lungs expanding a bit more. She hadn't even realized how difficult it had been to breathe up in the mountains till they had begun descending from them.
They passed through villages, some big and some small, lit up in the darkness. The air was warm and began to feel almost muggy the further they got away from the mountains. Sophie shrugged her thick black sweater off and pushed the sleeves of her red dress up. She held her hair up from the nape of her neck with one hand and fanned her neck with the other hand, wishing fervently that she had a hair tie. She'd had one but it had gotten lost at some point.
"Why did you agree to go to Brazil?"
Whoa. Her eyes widened and she looked at Winter with shock. She wasn't sure but she thought this might have been the first time in their short and tenuous relationship that he'd ever asked her a question first. "What?" she asked, both bewildered by his question and the fact that he was even asking her a question.
"You're being agreeable about going to Brazil," he said slowly, thoughtfully, eyes still narrowed slightly. "Why? You know what's waiting for you. So why help me take you there?"
"I'm not planning anything, if that's what you're thinking," she said irritably.
"Tell me," he said and she shivered at the commanding tone in his voice. This was a man who wasn't used to people not following his orders.
"Listen," she said, trying to quell her irritation. "I had three options, okay? Option one: wander around the Andes mountains with you for forever. Option two: try to escape from you. Option three: help you get me to Brazil." She paused and noticed that even though he was expressionless, as always, he was sitting as still as stone and seemed to be hanging on to her every word. Interesting. "Well, option one sounded horrible," she said. "And option two seemed stupid and pointless. You'd only hunt me down and hurt me and force me to come with you anyway." She paused graciously, wondering if he'd protest or at least have the grace to look ashamed. He did neither, taking it in stride that she expected him to hurt her. She clenched her fists and continued through gritted teeth, hating the violence he seemed to bring up in her. "So option three it is. I mean, you're going to take me to Brazil whether you have to drag my dead body there or not—right? So…whatever. Why run from fate?" She laughed tiredly. "I've kind of given up hoping I'd ever make it home. Now I'm just hoping for the best. I thought you might be able to prepare me for what Hydra is going to do to me, but…" She stared moodily out at the dark night sky. "Looks like I'm really on my own in this."
He had no reply to this. Of course he doesn't. She rolled her eyes. Traveling with a ghost was really getting annoying. It was a constant cycle of assault, silence, and strange vulnerability. She honestly would have preferred a kidnapper who couldn't stop blathering about his evil plans because then at least she would have been able to get some useful information out of them.
Speaking of information… She looked at Winter and curiously said, "You haven't contacted anyone. Don't you have a cell phone?"
His mouth was a flat line. "Shut up."
"Touchy," she murmured. "I'm sorry, I should have realized they don't trust you with a phone—"
"I don't need a phone," he snarled, lunging forward and grabbing her head with his hands in a crushing grip. Sophie desperately tried to twist out of his grasp but his grip was too strong. It felt like he was crushing her facial bones and an earsplitting pain began to build up in her head. "I've never needed to check in—I've never needed help—I always get the mission done—before I met you, you stupid, insufferable, piece of sh—"
The wagon screeched to a halt and they were both thrown backwards, apart from each other. Sophie rubbed her head, her eyes watering, trying to control her hitched breathing, as the wagon driver twisted around and began shouting at them in Spanish. Sophie had no idea what he was saying but judging by his panicked, angry, and half-afraid expression, he didn't like them assaulting each other in his wagon and wouldn't be pleased at all to find two dead bodies in it the next time he turned around.
At least that's what she thought he meant.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Sophie repeated, hoping he understood her pleading expression. "Él es…loco," she finally finished, pointing to Winter. "Es mi…hermoso. Él es…deprimido. Necesitas ayuda…? Un doctor…no…un médico en Brazil. Por favor…um…" She desperately wracked her mind for the right term. "Per…perdónanos. Nosotros estamos muy…agradeciados…para tu ayuda." She winced at the man's horrified expression as she butchered his language but she waited, waiting to see what his final reaction was. She'd basically told him that her husband was crazy and depressed and they were going to see a doctor in Brazil for help and they really appreciated his help in driving them.
Or, at least, that's what she hoped she said. She still remembered the time in high school when she'd said, "Yo estoy embarazada," to imply that she was embarrassed…and had ended up saying that she was pregnant.
Ironically…that had been pretty damn embarrassing.
The man still looked leery but finally he grudgingly nodded and turned around, cracking his reins to get the horses moving again. Sophie exhaled in relief and then glared at Winter, still rubbing her sore head. "Will you control yourself?" she hissed. "I understand that violence is your number one solution to everything but you're going to get us thrown off this wagon and then what are we going to do? Walk to Brazil? Good luck with that."
"Good luck with that." And with those words, she crossed her thin arms and turned away from him, glaring in a different direction.
He felt…contrite. Somewhat. It was a strange, foreign feeling so he wasn't exactly sure how to label it—and he sure as hell would never have said it out loud—but he did feel somewhat…regretful about his behavior in the past few hours. He kept losing his temper and attacking her. She was right; it was short-sighted and foolish of him. He was drawing too much attention to them and would get them thrown off this wagon. Either that or he would end up harming the girl and he had been ordered to deliver her relatively unharmed…
It was just that she was so infuriating he sometimes completely forgot his orders and saw red. He'd never known a human being to cause him so much rage and especially not someone so damn small. How could someone her size be so enraging? What had happened to the shy, timid, weak girl he'd kidnapped over a week ago? He couldn't believe he was feeling this way but he almost missed the girl who'd burst into tears at the drop of a hat and had cowered in a corner every time he'd glared at her. She'd been exasperating but she'd been…easy. Easy to control, easy to subdue, easy to terrify, easy to guess her next behaviors and words.
Now…she wasn't as easy. And it bothered him immensely.
She was complicated now. No matter how many times he got rough with her to show her her place—to put a little fear back into her soul—she was getting further and further from the timid girl she'd been. She got bolder and braver as time went on and he didn't know how to stop it. He wasn't equipped to deal with this garbage. Grab and deliver, shoot and kill, target acquired, target eliminated. This was how he worked: quickly, violently, efficiently, coldly. He didn't take his mask off. He didn't get lost. He didn't get off track. And he certainly didn't talk to his targets in any way that could be conversational.
And yet here they were—all the rules being thrown out the window. The idea made him twitchy and uncomfortable, sweaty and agitated, as if he was trapped in his own skin. He wanted to get away from her, to spend some time alone, but he had to keep watching her every move. It was the only thing that kept her from trying to escape from him and wasting his time.
But he realized that it wasn't just her that was bothering him so much. It was being away from Hydra for so long. His missions had never gone this long before and when they did… He frowned to himself, sorting his thoughts. They prepped him for a longer time than normal. Everything was planned. Everything had deadlines. His memories always felt chaotic—some blurred, some sharp, bits and details about past missions floating to the forefront, training and regimen and rules always flowing in the undercurrent throughout his whole mind—but he definitely knew that he had never been this disconnected from Hydra before. Never been this free—
Wait.
Wait.
Why had he…
Free. Why had he used that word? What was there to be free from? There was…nothing, was there? Nothing. He was the asset and he had a role to do and he did it well and—
Yet…
His bones felt strangely loose, his mind stretched. Almost as if he were floating. He felt like he had more…control. Despite having less control over his target and losing complete control of this goddamn mission—
He couldn't shake the thought that he was more in control, in a way, because he was having to choose what to do next. No strike agents watching his every move. No rigid schedule to follow. No protocols. Nothing. Just…silence. A goal. And a girl.
And the shadows.
The shadows were getting worse. He couldn't shake them and he couldn't shape them, either, couldn't will them to form solid shapes so he could figure out what the hell they meant or who the hell they were. He vaguely wondered if being away from Hydra meant he was losing his mind. He'd never lost his mind before. Perhaps this was what insanity was. Blurry memories that seemed different, that seemed to have a golden tint—flashing images and sounds of people he thought he knew but surely didn't, surely couldn't—and a name, a name, the mere sound and memory of a name that made him feel…
Well. This was all stupid. It was stupid to think about any of this. He needed to focus completely on the mission. Finish the damn mission, deliver the damn girl, and then… He shook his head, feeling a bit nauseous for some reason. Then whatever happened to him after. Memories of being tested and then being cold. Something like that. Stupid. Stupid.
Still…the things she'd asked. He couldn't help but wonder. It wasn't his place to wonder—he never had before, had never cared, never thought about it—but he couldn't help but do it now. He didn't know why but his mind felt slightly clearer, not so frazzled and fuzzy and chaotic. He was thinking about things that normally didn't even exist in his mind, such as her question… What were they going to do with her when they got her? It would have been helpful if he knew why they even wanted her in the first place… He couldn't imagine what Hydra needed with a skinny little brat like her. She probably had important connections.
But what were they going to do to her? He pondered it while staring at her. Were they going to hurt her? Torture her? He didn't imagine she could withstand much torture—though you never knew. She'd withstood all of his brutality so far, which was…surprising.
Why am I thinking about this?
Stupid.
He shook his head, trying to shake the cobwebs and confusing thoughts away.
So stupid.
