A/N: Spoiler alert for Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Avengers: Age of Ultron, and Captain America: Civil War.
As always, many thanks go out to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta and Winter-Soldier-88 for the brainstorming.
Note 1: I know it's been a while since this story was updated, but it couldn't be helped. Not only is my muse a fickle little scamp, my family has been experiencing a great deal of emotional turmoil that may not get better any time soon. Such is RL.
Note 2: This story is being revamped. Some scenes will be removed completely. Others will be changed to better conform to the MCU movies. Also, parts 2 and 3 will be eliminated and the chapters posted all under one title.
Namaste,
Sunny
"I will come back to you, I swear I will;
And you will know me still.
I shall be only a little taller
Than when I went."
― Edna St. Vincent Millay, The Harp-Weaver and Other Poems
Winter Soldier
And You Will Know Me Still
Chapter 32
Sioux Falls, SD
Collegiate High School
Computer Lab
More than two weeks of following Will Davenport around gave Kiba a good working knowledge of the Sioux Falls area. Good enough to be sent out on her own to some of the more tame calls, such as Caleb Nash, and his erectile dysfunctional bull.
She sorted out his current complaint, filed a report, and headed for the high school to roust a group of teenage boys out of the computer lab. They hadn't taken anything. They were trying to get online to watch porn so their parents wouldn't catch them doing it at home. Not one of the boys was under six feet tall, used to using their greater height to intimidate.
Kiba tucked her thumbs into her belt, all weight on one foot, hip thrust to the side. "Boys, I was an Army EOD for more than ten years. Two days before I left Iraq, I disarmed an IED that would've leveled the south end of town and left the surrounding area uninhabitable for years. The guys on my squad weren't all that tall, but they were heavily armed. Not much scares me," one hand came up to point a finger in each face, "and you don't even come close. Now move on before I call your parents to come get you. And no, I don't want to hear your 'my mom's a lawyer' speech, Jacob Lester. Heard it my first day. Done with it. Now get out, and don't come back until the first day of school. Pass the word around that your peers need to get jobs instead of sitting around being bored for three months or I might be tempted to cast my vote for year-round classes."
She nodded toward the exit, and the boys filled past her, muttering, "Yes, ma'am" under their breath.
Pressing the talk button on her radio, she stated clearly, "Romeo-Eight-Five to dispatch."
"Go ahead, Romeo-Eight-Five." The voice belonged to Elyze Collier. Out of uniform, she looked like the stereotypical soccer mom. She even drove a minivan. But looks were deceiving. Elyze was thirty-six, blonde, blue-eyed, five foot eight in height, weight a buck forty, three kids and a husband. She was also an expert marksman, proficient in hand-to-hand, and was a third level black belt in judo and a first level black belt in Tae Kwon Do. In her off hours, she taught both at the Martial Arts Studio on Chestnut and Madison.
"All clear at the high school. Jacob Lester and his posse again. Put the fear of Sparks in 'em."
Elyze chuckled at the vision of five-six Kiba going up against five six-foot-plus teens and coming out on top. "Roger, Romeo-Eight-Five."
"Going Code seven at the coffee shop."
"Roger that. Pick me up a ham and Swiss on Panini, and something cold and chocolate to drink."
Kiba grinned. "Will do. Romeo-Eight-Five out."
Back at her squad car, Kiba opened the trunk to get her wallet. In the back, behind all the usual cop paraphernalia, she found a locked waterproof storage container with a strange symbol on top. She found the key on her key ring and opened it. Inside, she found an odd assortment of items: salt, borax, a container labeled 'holy water', several lighters, something called an EMF detector, lighter fluid, and a bottle of what looked like red paint. On top was a handwritten book with phrases in Latin and included more symbols that resembled the one on the lid of the crate.
Farther in the back, she found a long flat case that held a sword. Puzzled, she made a note to ask Davenport when she got back to the station. Tucking the book under her arm, she locked both cases, shoved her wallet into her back pocket, and slammed the trunk.
Tossing the book in the seat next to her, Kiba belted in, started the engine and drove to the coffee shop. Taking her iced coffee and egg salad on rye out to the patio, she opened the strange book, turning the pages slowly, examining each one in detail.
On the first of the pages written in Latin, she found a passage. Some of the words, she remembered from high school. Others she'd have to look up. "Ecorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica…"
"What the hell are you doing?" The book was ripped from her hand, knocking her drink over. Good thing it was almost empty. Kiba rushed to soak up the mess on the table, looking into the angry face of the sheriff. Mills closed the book, looking around with a sliver of fear in her eyes.
"I found it in the trunk of my cruiser. Just trying to figure out what it says." Kiba waggled her hand. "My Latin's a little rusty."
Taking a seat, Mills drew on the straw, the level of her drink going down considerably. She wiped her mouth with a napkin, though at first, she nearly the back of her hand. Something had rattled the woman she thought wasn't afraid of anything. "Davenport didn't tell you the significance of the cases and their contents?"
"No, ma'am. Not a word."
The book was scooped up and shoved into the inside pocket of her jacket. Mills turned her left wrist over. "I have an appointment with the mayor. Come to my house tonight." The sheriff stood. "Whatever you do, don't talk to anyone about what's in those cases. No one."
Kiba stared at Mills for a long moment, suddenly realizing she was waiting for an answer. "Yeah. Sure. Seven?"
The other woman nodded, took one step, and stopped. "And bring whatever your poison is. Lots of it."
Watching the sheriff return to her cruiser, for the first time since the phone interview, Kiba wondered if taking this job had been a wise choice because it seemed as if everyone in this town was squirrely.
Secret SHIELD Training Base
All alone with nothing to do, Steve packed up and headed for the temporary SHIELD training facility to assist with turning the new trainees into agents. Santino nodded a greeting, but didn't use their previous association to get special treatment. To Steve, that said more about his character than anything else.
He was at the facility for over a week when Maria showed up with Coulson, his left arm in a sling. There had been rumors circulating about his involvement in an incident with a group of Inhumans, people with special powers achieved through natural mutation or scientific experimentation. Ironically, by that definition, he would be considered inhuman.
Though he had lunch or dinner with Maria nearly every day, she hadn't come to his room or asked him to share hers. It wasn't the sex he missed, though he admitted that was part of it. What he missed most was just spending time with his girl.
Today had been rough on the recruits. He and the other squad leaders had taken their charges on a long run that left most of them exhausted while Steve had hardly broken a sweat. He was careful not to overtax his squad though. It wouldn't do to take his frustration with his personal life out on others. Mom taught him better than that.
After giving them the next three days off and sending his squad to the showers, Steve returned to his room. Leaving the lights off, he stripped off his shirt and tossed it in the laundry bin. He sat down on the side of the bed to take off his shoes, sensing he wasn't alone a split second before Maria's arm snaked around his waist and her chin rested on his shoulder. "About time you showed up."
"Been busy." Annoyed that she'd been staying away at night then showed up without a word, Steve didn't respond to her sultry whisper. Just continued to undress as if he were alone. He went into the bathroom, showered and came out with just a towel around his waist to find her still in his bed. "Why are you here, Maria?" His tone came out sharper than he wanted.
She crawled to the edge of the mattress on her knees. His eyes widened at seeing the red and black plaid bustier. Her bottom half was covered, if you could call it that, in narrow black lace that curved down in the center leaving her bare from just above her navel. "Found this in with my clothes, and remembered how much you liked it."
She wrapped her hands around the back of his neck, urging him closer, and though he was annoyed with her, he was drawn like a magnet, skimming his hands around her back to bring her against his chest as they kissed. Then, she pulled away, just a few inches. "Medical did tests. Very little of your DNA is left in my blood. All that superness is gone."
Hugging her to him, Steve kissed her temple. "We knew it wouldn't last."
"That's why I stayed away. Woke up one morning and I could feel the difference." She sighed and lay her head on his shoulder. "I'm just an ordinary human again."
Steve had to laugh at that. Setting her back so he could see her eyes, he let his love for her show. "There is nothing ordinary about you, Maria."
Maria smiled. "Oh, Captain America, you say the sweetest things."
She kissed him, and he returned it with equal vigor, holding back just enough so that he wouldn't hurt her. Then, he felt her hand slide down his back to trace the edge of the towel around to the front. Her fingers worked the corner free and it dropped to the floor.
Vermont
Waiting until he was certain that Natasha had gone to sleep on the sofa again, James went into his room, and changed for bed. Instead of reading the novel on his nightstand, he opened the drawer and drew out the papers that Natasha had given him from the library. These weeks since coming here, his mind had calmed somewhat. He was having longer and longer periods where he felt as if he might actually be able to become a part of this world. To do that, he would need all of his memories. He would start with Isolde.
One by one, James unfolded the pages and lay them on the bed. Natasha had only printed one photo, the one that had made him sick. His stomach heaved, and he swallowed hard to stop it. After a few deep breaths, he felt able to go on.
Though he didn't remember learning German, he was able to read the passages that hadn't been translated. When he came to the few paragraphs indicating the reason for Isolde's imprisonment, he was angered and sickened once more.
Someone who had the ear of Reinhard Heydrich, the SS-Obergruppenführer, supervisor of the Einsatzgruppen, who reported only to Heinrich Himmler himself, had seen them together and had turned her in for collaborating with the enemy. Though she told them over and over that she knew nothing about American troop movements in Germany or an elite squad called the Howling Commandoes, she wasn't believed. She'd been tortured to death, and it was his fault. If he hadn't spent the night with Isolde prior to their raid… Try as he might, James couldn't recall any details of the next few days except the train.
He needed to move, to run, far and fast, until he could go no further, but he couldn't leave Natasha alone, unprotected. Bucky Barnes hadn't been able to protect the last woman he cared for, and the man he was now would die before he'd let any harm come to Natasha.
Out in the other room, James shuffled through the pages one more time, stopping on the photo of a mass grave that purported to be Isolde's place of burial. He crumpled it into a ball and tossed it into the fire with the others. It flared briefly and was consumed.
Turning his back on the past, James went to the locked cabinet where the weapons were stored and took out a handgun. He didn't know or care what make and model, just that it worked. He dragged an armchair to a spot where he could watch Natasha, the front door and all the windows. He already knew the alarms had been set; he'd done it himself. This way, he would be the first line of defense if someone were to attack.
Holding the weapon in his right hand, James seated himself, both feet on the floor, his eyes never leaving Natasha's face. He vowed on his life that the Einsatzgruppen would not take her from him the way they'd taken Isolde.
Sioux Falls, SD
Jody Mills stood looking out the window, a glass of red wine in one hand. On the coffee table sat one empty bottle and another that was nearly gone. A layer of salt completely covered the window sill. It was on all the window sills and doorways.
Sparks sat in the armchair still holding an empty glass, staring at nothing as if it were something incredibly important. Then, she leaned forward to grab the bottle and refilled her glass. She downed the rest of the wine and set the glass on the table as she got to her feet. "Should've brought more."
The deputy came to stand next to Jody, hugging herself as if she were cold. Jody glanced at her from the corner of her eye. "Any questions?"
Sparks scoffed. "Yeah. Lots." She turned to face the other way. "So all that crap in the Supernatural books and on the show is real?"
Smiling without humor, Jody led Sparks back to the sofa. "As real as it gets. Sam and Dean Winchester aren't their real names, of course."
"Too bad. Those are cool names." The women looked at each other and laughed. Shaking her head Sparks slumped down in her seat. "Do they look anything like the actors?"
Jody waggled her hand. "The actors are a little better looking than the real deal, but yeah."
"No offense, sheriff, but I hope I never have to meet them."
Again, the women laughed, and Jody's "amen" was heartfelt. "Sorry you took the job?"
Sparks looked up at the ceiling for a moment then back to Jody. "No. I like it here. The people, the area. It's just what I need to get my life back on track now that I've left my EOD days behind."
Raising her now empty glass, Jody saluted Sparks. "Welcome to Sioux Falls."
"Thanks. So what's there to do on your day off aside from keeping a look-out for angels and demons hanging out in the local watering holes?"
Stark Tower
When pacing at home, Dooney would walk the length of the apartment, around the living room, through the kitchen, stop at the 'fridge, and return to his office or the bedroom. Making do with what he had, he walked to the end of the room, approximately twenty-five feet, and back again, and again, and kept walking until he lost count of the laps and was hungry again. "Jarvis, mi amigo. I need a little somethin' to fill my stomach. Anything but liver, okra or Jell-O."
"Again, sir? You consumed a full meal plus dessert not three hours ago."
He sat on the side of the bed, rubbing his hands together restlessly. "Yeah, well, Banner said increased appetite could be a side effect of the injections. Maybe you should let him and that lady doctor know what's goin' on."
"I've sent them a message. Your meal and the doctors will arrive at approximately the same time. Will there be anything else, Mr. Nelson?"
Having thought long and hard about this particular subject, Dooney decided it was time. If the course of treatment laid out by Cho and Banner didn't work, he wanted to know the truth before he died. "Get me everything you can find on Theodore Edmund Rains. Mom said he was born February 7, 1951 in Flagstaff, Arizona. Don't know if he had any other family. Last known location, Jacksonville, Florida, March 1976."
"I'll send it to your computer, sir."
Standing, Dooney paced over to the window that looked out into the hall. "Take your time. I hear my jailers comin'. And don't say anything about that search to anyone, especially Barton."
"Mum's the word, sir."
A moment later, Cho and Banner came around the corner in their rabbit suits just ahead of a young man carrying a sealed tray. The white-clad kitchen worker pushed the tray into the pass-through and walked away.
Cho put up the hood of her suit and waited for Banner to do the same. They stepped into the room and shut the air lock door just as he uncovered the meal.
Without looking directly at him, Cho scanned the record of Dooney's meals. "According to this, you've consumed close to four thousand calories since this time yesterday morning."
He poured a glass of iced tea, glancing at the doctors through his longish hair hanging in his face. "To be fair, most of it was a super-rich chocolate dessert my buddy Jarvis served up."
"Correction, Mr. Nelson," the AI interrupted, "I do not personally prepare the meals. I simply pass the request on to the chef and her staff."
Whatevs, as Cooper would say. "Got it."
Banner shifted his feet and crossed his arms. Not easy in the rabbit suit. "We've been monitoring your vitals. You've ingested more than twice the daily number of calories consumed by the average adult your age, weight, height and metabolism with no corresponding increase in weight. Odd, considering you've been sedentary the last few weeks, and the only exercise you've gotten here is pacing and the stress test this morning."
"Are you feeling tired at all?" Cho added.
"No. Why?"
The doctors exchanged a look Dooney couldn't interpret, Cho speaking for them. "You've been up for well over twenty-four hours and haven't so much as taken a nap."
Dooney scooped up a forkful of what looked like loaded mashed potatoes and shoved it in his mouth. Whatever it was, it tasted nothing like potatoes. It went down easy and left no strange aftertaste. "That a problem?"
Banner twitched one shoulder. "We're not certain at this point. It could be indicative of your condition, that the injection is causing an inversion of the lymphoblasts into…"
He sighed long and loud. "What does that mean?"
Cho gave him a bland smile. "It means you may get out of here sooner than we thought."
"Yeah? When?"
"Aside from the increased appetite and not sleeping, you've responded well to the treatment. Perhaps another few days. After the next injection, we'll do a few more tests. If you continue to respond at this rate, we'll have you leave the isolation room, and venture outside. Tentatively plan on going home by the end of the week at the latest. We'll continue to monitor your progress over the next couple of years."
Excited and not wanting to show it just in case, Dooney sat on the side of the bed, gripping the edge of the mattress. "I'll try not to get my hopes up, doc."
Dooney waited five minutes after Banner and Cho left to take Kiba's note from the bedside table and read it through one more time. "Yo, Jarvis."
"Yes, Mr. Nelson?"
"You could be seein' the last of me soon, and I was wonderin' if you'd be amenable to doin' me one more super-deluxe favor."
If Jarvis had been a person, Dooney swore he would've huffed in frustration. "Of course, sir. And it's no bother."
"I need to call someone." Dooney recited the number he memorized the first night he and Kiba spent together.
There was a long pause, giving Dooney the impression that the AI was trying the number several times. "That number is not currently in use. To whom do you wish to speak?"
"Kiba Hardison. She was stayin' at my apartment while I'm incarcerated, then she kinda took off." Another pause ensued making Dooney wonder exactly how far-reaching the AI's influence ran.
"I've located information on Miss Hardison, sir, including a phone number. Shall I send it to your computer?"
Excitement whispered through Dooney, though he took great pains to show little outward emotion. "Please do. Just out of curiosity, where'd you get it all? The info, I mean."
In his mind, Dooney saw an android face, the lips pursed to prevent a grin and failing. "I never reveal my sources, sir."
"Don't ask, don't tell. Gotcha." He booted up the computer and sat down at the desk, his forehead crinkling in thought at what he was reading. "Can I get a little privacy?"
"Of course, sir. Call if you require additional assistance."
The information Jarvis collected was mind-boggling. Why hadn't Kiba mentioned, well, any of it? Dooney needed to pace and time to think where to go from here. His hadn't expected her to wait around for him, but he'd hoped to get to know her better before scaring her off. What he hadn't anticipated was that she'd move on so soon.
He didn't like being without female companionship. That was one of the reasons for his love 'em and leave 'em lifestyle. Then, Rosalie came along and gave him a glimpse of what it would be like to be in a long-term relationship. Not that she'd spoiled him for other women. Their association had been strictly physical. And because of her, Dooney now knew that he was open and ready for something more than one night stands. Guess I should do some movin' on too.
Trouble was, he now knew he didn't want to move on. He wanted Kiba to be with him and not halfway across the country where they have tornadoes in summer, and blizzards and ice storms in winter. Growing up in the south hadn't prepared him for such extremes, but he'd survived the last ten New York winters. Surely he could live through at least one winter in South Dakota.
With the decision made, Dooney finished his meal, and lay down on the bed with the remote to finish watching the series he'd started a few days ago. He fell asleep between episodes seven and eight, and didn't wake up for more than twelve hours.
Secret SHIELD Training Base
While Maria slept, Steve climbed out of bed and stretched. The twin was barely big enough for him, let alone sharing it with Maria. Wondering how to go about requesting a double without explaining why, he went to the dresser and took out the vintage trading cards he'd purchased from the store in Philly. He sat down at the small table in the corner, picked up a fountain pen and thought over what to say to one of his biggest fans. Maybe just a signature. According to Maria, Coulson's birthday was coming up in a few days. Steve would give him the vintage Captain America cards as a gift.
He signed his name to each of the cards, capped the pen, and set it to the side. The last of the cards was returned to its protective cover just as Maria came to sit in his lap. With his arms around her waist, Steve pulled her close. She picked up one of the cards and smiled. "He'll love them, Steve. And keep it low-key. He doesn't like a fuss."
Her fingers toyed with the hair above his neck. It tickled, but not enough to make her stop. "My birthday's tomorrow. Got any special plans?"
She waggled her hand. "What do you want for your big ninety-six?"
One eyebrow raised a fraction of an inch as he slid one arm under her knees and stood. "I have a few ideas, if you'd like to hear them."
Steve lay her on the bed, and joined her. Maria smiled up at him. "Later. I'm kind of busy at the moment."
"Me too." And he kissed her.
Vermont
Standing on the porch with his arms crossed, James watched the sky. It had been raining off and on for two days. Being inside the cabin for so long made him restless. He needed to get out.
Going to his room, he pulled a hooded waterproof jacket from his closet, this one purchased while he and Natasha had been shopping. It was green instead of the dark blue, khaki and black he'd been wearing, and he found he liked it better than the others. He shoved his arms into the sleeves, zipped the front and pulled the hood up as he returned to the other room.
His hand was on the doorknob when music began to play. The tune was vaguely familiar, as was the gravelly voice.
No one to talk with, all by myself
No one to walk with, but I'm happy on the shelf
Ain't misbehavin', savin' my love for you, for you, for you, for you.
I know for certain the one I love
I'm through with flirtin', it's you that I'm thinkin' of
Ain't misbehavin', savin' my love for you.
Like Jack Horner in the corner
Don't go nowhere, what do I care?
Your kisses are worth waitin' for, baby.
Closing his eyes, he searched for the name, and it came to him. "Fats Waller. Ain't Misbehavin'."
"Very good," Natasha voice said from behind him, near the desk.
His hand dropped to his side, and James faced her, nodding his head in time with the last verse.
I don't stay out late, no place to go
I'm home about eight, just me and my radio
Ain't misbehavin', savin' all my love for you.
An instrumental began, and Natasha cut it off. "Steve said you liked jazz, and this was one of your favorites."
Without waiting for his reply, she touched the remote, and another song started. This one was also familiar. Slow and easy. Just right for dancing, if he remembered correctly.
James took off the jacket and lay it over the back of the chair. Letting his memories guide him, he held out a hand, and Natasha put her smaller one into it. He gave a small tug to bring her into his arms as the song played, and they danced.
Gonna take a sentimental journey
Gonna set my heart at ease
Gonna make a sentimental journey
To renew old memories
I got my bag, I got my reservation
Spend each dime I could afford
Like a child in wild anticipation
Long to hear that, "All aboard"
Seven, that's the time we leave, at seven
I'll be waiting up for heaven
Counting every mile of railroad track
That moves me back
Briefly, an image flashed through his mind of a train traveling at a high rate of speed passing below where he and the others were grouped around a short wave radio, the rocks covered with ice and snow, the wind so cold he felt naked standing on the ridge. As always, he was on Steve's left. Their conversation was strange for the situation. Something about Coney Island.
Natasha's hair brushed against his chin, bringing him back to the present.
Never thought my heart could be so yearning
Why did I decide to roam?
Got to take a sentimental journey
Sentimental journey home
Got to take a sentimental journey
Sentimental journey home
When the song ended, they stopped moving, but didn't separate. Slowly, Natasha tilted her head back until he could see her green eyes, dark and wide, lips parted as if he'd surprised her again. He leaned toward her…
~~O~~
Natasha saw the intent to kiss her in Barnes' eyes, yet she hesitated before stepping out of his embrace. For just a moment, his hands extended as if reaching out for her, the look on his face begging her not to go. She turned away, grabbed the remote, and shut off the music. "That's enough for today. If you want to go for a run, go. I'll have lunch ready when you get back."
He put the jacket on and was out the front door so fast the slam made her wince. She sat down on the sofa, holding her head in her hands. She'd almost let him kiss her.
Natasha went to the kitchen to prepare lunch. Hot soup would be brilliant on a chilly and damp day like today. She took vegetables from the refrigerator, washed them and started chopping, using more force than necessary. A few minutes later, the rain started again.
Over an hour later, she heard dragging footsteps on the porch. She ran into the bathroom for a towel and met Barnes at the door. He was soaked to the skin and shivering in spite of the coat. She pressed the back of her hand to his cheek finding it ice cold. "Bozhe moi! You're freezing! Why did you stay out so long?"
Taking his hand, Natasha led him to the bathroom. She unzipped the jacket and stripped it off, dropping it in the corner. Next, she grabbed the hems of both shirts. "Raise your arms."
He did as she commanded, and she pulled the shirts over his head, plopping them in the corner with the jacket. Grabbing another towel, she spread it on the seat of the toilet then reached for the closure on his pants, undoing them before he could stop her. The soggy material fell to his knees as she pressed down on his shoulders, forcing him to sit. After making quick work of the shoes, socks and pants, she stood. "I'll turn up the heat and start a fire while you take a long hot shower. Don't get out until you stop shivering."
Barnes nodded, his hands moving to the waist of his boxers. Natasha stepped out and shut the door. Going to the environmental controls, she turned it to heat and cranked it up. A fire was already laid in the fireplace, using a firestarter to get it going. Then she moved the armchair in front of it. She grabbed two blankets and lay them on the sofa while she started water for tea and dished up a bowl of soup.
By the time Barnes finished showering, Natasha had set up the tray in front of the fireplace with hot soup and tea. She didn't say anything, just pointed. He sat down and she wrapped a blanket around his shoulders, tucked another over his lap and moved the tray in front of him. "Eat. And when you're done, bedtime."
Natasha watched from the kitchen table as Barnes slowly spooned the soup into his mouth, and drank the tea. He made a face, but that was to be expected from the honey and lemon she put in it.
He finished eating, moved the tray to the side, wrapped the blanket around him, and just stared into the fire. When Natasha came to take the tray, his hand grabbed hers. Their eyes met, and he seemed about to say one thing, changing his mind at the last second. "Thank you."
She gave his hand a squeeze in return and smiled. "That's what friends are for, Barnes."
Natasha tensed when he didn't release her. "James."
"Pardon?"
"Please call me James."
Nodding, Natasha tugged her hand free. "James it is. I'll get your bed ready."
She had only been in his room a couple of times since they arrived at the cabin. In all this time, he had yet to do anything to personalize the décor. She turned down the bed and fluffed the pillow.
Returning to the living room, she found James asleep in front of the fire, looking like a small boy who had stayed out too late playing in the snow and had caught a chill. Pulling the sides of the blanket together in front, she mused that this was the closest she might ever get to mothering anyone. The choice of having children had been taken from her by the Red Room, and she'd never forgiven them.
Looking into his face, the lines of wariness and hardship had smoothed out, making him look more like the baby-faced young man from the 1940s than a cold-blooded assassin.
As it dried, his hair became wavy, and Natasha had a momentary urge to run her fingers through it. Instead, she got to her feet, turned out all the lights except the one on the desk, stirred the fire with the poker, and went into her room, closing the door with a soft click.
~~O~~
Sometime later, James began dreaming. His body twitched, feet moving as if running, and hands clenching into fists as he fought against invisible enemies. Facial features, calm in repose, twisted into a mask of torment. Growls, muttering, and the occasional whimper pushed from this throat indicating a range of emotions flitting through his subconscious so fast that he couldn't hold onto any one for more than a few seconds at a time.
His eyes snapped open, looking around, frantic, but it wasn't the cabin he was seeing. The image of a laboratory sprang up around him, filled with dim lighting and eerie figures moving in the dark, whispering in a language he didn't understand. He tried to get up, but he was held down with a strap across his chest, his right hand and both feet were shackled to the table.
Pain wracked the left side of his body, and he couldn't feel his left arm. Looking down, he saw that his arm was missing a few inches below the shoulder, the muscle shredded, and the bone snapped off, leaving a ragged end.
He groaned with renewed pain as a hand came out of the dark holding a syringe. A tourniquet was wrapped tightly around his right arm, and the needle plunged into his vein…
TBC
Obergruppenführer = senior group leader