Steve tilted his head forward and did his best not to sniff back any of the blood issuing from his nose. His instinct was to lean back, but Natasha had assured him this was the new, proper way to stop a bloody nose. Granted, he was supposed to have a hand free to staunch the flow. He flexed involuntarily against his ropes.
Being his antagonist's punching bag was nothing new for Steve. As long as it kept the man's attentions off of Darcy, it worked out fine for him. Now that the leader was gone, the atmosphere of the cabin had shifted. Someone had turned on Monday night football, and the remaining men were gathered in the living room to watch. They alternately cheered and cursed as the game progressed. Steve wouldn't have minded watching a little, but their thick bodies blocked his view. He sighed.
How could he have let things deteriorate so badly? Despite the physical pain he was in and the concern over the various plots they were a part of, all he could focus on was the fright in Darcy's eyes at the diner. He flexed again and dropped his head, getting a glimpse of the bloody mess down the front of his ropes. He'd set out to protect her and he'd failed. More than that, though. He'd promised he would keep her safe. Something inside him felt...ashamed at not keeping his promise.
It went deeper than that, he admitted to himself. Get real, Steve, he chided. You like her.
He tried to grin to himself, but it turned into a grimace. Other than the obvious, he didn't have much to bring to the table in that regard. Darcy wasn't shy about complimenting his physical appearance, but they didn't have anything in common. The same was true of everyone he knew. Work was his commonality with everyone he associated with. He didn't play video games, hardly had time for sports, wasn't a movie buff. Sam and Natasha didn't seem to mind, but they were the exceptions. People didn't hang out with Captain America, and Captain America didn't hang out with people. They found him when there was work to be done.
Steve shook his head to clear it. He needed to focus on the problem at hand, not wallow in self-pity. He considered the chair he'd been placed in. It was reinforced steel. No matter how he strained, the chair had no give and he couldn't get any leverage. A sense of irony descended over Steve. He'd been to some of the most secure facilities in the world, seen the restraints developed and perfected for dangerous superpowered criminals. Attempts had been made on him before, with magnetic handcuffs and all kinds of new technologies. These guys had ropes and a good chair, and he was stuck.
A particularly loud cheer from the living room was overlaid with thunder from outside. The kitchen's small window showed black outside. The storm had only grown worse in the hours since he and Darcy were separated. He flicked his eyes back to the living room. He'd kept careful count of the assholes in there and reassured himself that none of them had left to go visit the gorgeous young woman locked in a back room of the cabin. Their desires appeared to be strictly related to watching the game.
A second round of cheers was interrupted as the entire cabin went pitch black, followed by shouts of dismay. Thunder followed.
"What the-"
"Power's out!"
"Shit! Did you see whether Leon made the tackle?"
Several flashlights popped on. A couple of beams ran over the kitchen, where Steve sat, motionless.
"Well, he's not going anywhere at least. You okay, Captain Rogers?" asked one voice in the darkness.
"Peachy," Steve replied, lifting an eyebrow. The flashlights turned away from his face and he blinked, readjusting.
"Should I fire up the generator?" asked one deep voice.
"Yes!" several voices chorused in response.
Steve smiled at the urgency. Football was a serious matter, as long as the boss wasn't around. Deep Voice stamped out into the storm and the rest settled back down into quiet conversation.
Steve closed his eyes, not that it made much difference, and thought. Could he use the dark to his advantage? They'd wisely tied down his legs at the ankles. He potentially could stand in the chair, but most movement would make a lot of noise. The drugs were out of his system now, but he hadn't eaten in a while. Would that affect him?
Small, cold fingers threaded into one of his palms and he felt warm breath on his ear.
"It's just me," Darcy whispered.
"Darcy, what the hell are you doing?" Steve whispered back, ignoring the shiver that went down his spine.
She brought her lips to his ear once more before melting into the darkness. "Busting you out, Tough Guy."
He felt a tugging, sawing vibration at his ropes. What could she have possibly found? He smiled to himself. All that talk about underestimating herself, and he'd done the very same thing. He felt the ropes around his arms slacken, then drop away.
Darcy's cool hand rested on his shoulder. He brought his face up blindly.
"Ankles. Hurry."
Steve shook out his arm fatigue, rolling his shoulders and stretching his neck. He didn't hear any noise from Darcy, but soon felt the same tugging at each ankle, and the same release. The football talk went on in the other room, the men oblivious. Steve felt something pressed into his hand. Darcy's voice was back at his ear.
"Box cutter. Best I could do."
"It's fantastic, Doll."
Before he could stop himself and before she could draw away, Steve gripped her hand in his. She responded with a gentle squeeze of his fingers. He stood, testing his balance in the dark.
"Stay behind me. Maybe we can sneak out before-"
A sound like a large lawn mower fired up from outside the cabin and the lights popped back on. The men in the living room cheered as the screen of the ancient TV lit up. The cheers turned to dismay as several turned and saw Steve reaching for his shield against the back wall of the kitchen.
"He's loose!"
"Shoot him! Don't let them get out!"
Taking a calculated risk, Steve snatched Darcy around the waist, pressing her close. Shield in front of them, he threw himself backward against the kitchen wall. The flimsy cabin's structure gave way at once. They tumbled backward through crumbling drywall and old, splintering wood. Bullets pinged off of Steve's shield as he landed flat on his back in the mud, Darcy on top of him. Instinctively, she rolled away from the hole in the wall and the men with guns.
"Truck! Out front!" Steve directed as he jumped to his feet and followed her through the pounding rain.
It was pitch black as they rounded the back of the cabin and made for the gravel drive out front. Steve was tempted to try for the woods that surrounded them, but he had no idea of their location. Trying to hide Darcy safely in the woods in a storm in the middle of nowhere was a bad idea, his earlier suggestion notwithstanding. Instead, they came to the first SUV they saw. Aware that they had only moments, Steve yanked the door open, leaned in, and ripped away the plastic casing around the steering column. He slashed several wires with the box cutter and hotwired the ignition, wincing at the sparks. He threw the cutter on the passenger seat and leaned back out.
"Get in. You're driving."
Darcy didn't argue. She stepped up into the compartment and strapped on her safety belt.
"Okay, Steve, get in-"
She was interrupted by a stream of bullets that pattered and whined around them. Steve slammed the door shut.
"Drive! I'll buy you some time!" he shouted through the closed window.
Darcy shook her head, frowning, but he heard her shift into drive and jam down on the gas pedal. The SUV roared forward, headed for a tall, chain link gate with a padlock that cut across the gravel drive. It was dimly lit by a utility bulb, barely visible in the gloom.
Steve turned and sprang straight up, drawing the fire of several men on the porch. He came down on the roof of the cabin, scrambling over its slippery surface. A crash sounded; Darcy had driven right at the gate without slowing and burst through. Good girl. He kept his eyes on Darcy's tail lights as she drove toward the road that must lay beyond the compound. They shifted left, then he lost sight of them among the trees.
"Come down, Rogers! There's nowhere else to go!" shouted Deep Voice.
He wasn't wrong. Steve gripped the stonework chimney that rose out of the roof. Light spilled out from the front porch on one side and the hole he'd busted through the wall on the other. Long shadows revealed the men and their weapons arranged in a circle around the cabin. He was surrounded on all sides.
Steve took a deep breath and leapt out and over, angling his shield beneath him. Staccato muzzle fire followed him into the dense forest, the bullets pinging uselessly off of vibranium. He reached out blindly with one arm in the darkness, felt the smack of something hard, sturdy, and splintery against his bicep, and managed to hook his elbow around a branch. He used his momentum to swing out further, hoping to reach a carpet of pine needles rather than slam into a tree trunk.
The instant his feet felt ground, he rolled forward to break his fall. He rose and ran as fast as he could in the direction of Darcy's tail lights. He angled further to the left, hoping the road circled around the section of trees he ran through. Sure enough, he shortly reached a chain link fence that marked the edge of the compound, smacking against it heavily. He could see the road outside. He gathered his feet under himself and jumped over, clearing the top with inches to spare.
He came down into a wet grassy ditch on the other side just as the SUV roared up, but Darcy couldn't see him in the darkness. Steve made a last, desperate leap, feet slipping on the grass beneath him. He slammed against the driver's side of the SUV and gripped the side mirror, legs dragging against the asphalt. Darcy screamed inside the vehicle.
"Darcy, it's me!" Steve yelled.
She got a good look at him, then braked suddenly. Steve held on as his momentum reversed and threatened to toss him forward onto the road. He yanked open the door behind her and clambered inside, pushing the shield in first. As soon as it slammed shut, Darcy hit the gas.
"Steve, you fucking insane...weirdo...jerk-face...martyr complex - oh, shit, your face…" Darcy's stream of words and irritation attenuated as he climbed into the front seat.
She reached out a hand, tenderly touching one of his bruised eyes. Her voice trembled with new tears.
"That smug asshole was hitting you, wasn't he?"
Steve reached for her hand and pulled it away before she could smear the blood on his cheeks and chin. "Don't worry about it, Doll. It'll be fine in a few hours. Just focus on the road. They might look for me for a few more minutes, but you're the person they really want. We have to keep going."
Darcy frowned, staring forward through the pounding rain barely kept at bay by busy windshield wipers.
"I'm so sorry, Steve," she whispered.
Steve cocked his head. "You don't have anything to be sorry for, Darcy."
"Yes I do. I left you there, and I ran. I'm such a coward."
"I told you to. You had to, to stay alive."
"That doesn't mean anything. You just… you get left behind, Steve. A lot. It's not fair. The military left you in the ice. Hydra pushed you out of SHIELD, made you a fugitive. All that you've given to others… you take all this shit - from everyone - and they expect you to just deal."
"Seriously, Darcy, it's okay."
"It's not okay, Steve! You aren't some caped crusader, you're a person. You don't deserve to be left behind. To be used and cast off. To take the beatings for someone else. I'm sorry, really sorry, and I'm not going to do it again."
Darcy sniffled and stared straight ahead, placing both hands securely on the wheel.
Steve sat, mouth slightly agape. Darcy's words rocked him, right down to his toes.
In the army he'd been a symbol, a rallying voice for his compatriots, and eventually a martyr. In this age, he was tool, a weapon, and he was fine with it as long as he was pointed in the right direction. His life wasn't worth much otherwise. And he was disposable. That was the nature of the beast, wasn't it? You use a tool until it breaks. If it doesn't break, you use it some more.
Something confusing and ill-defined rose up within Steve. He'd given over dreams of being an artist, of having his own life. He'd given them over for the greater good. He'd never looked back. After all, his likely option had been to die an early death, weak and alone, no parents, no wife, no kids, no friends. He'd traded that in for a better way. He was committed to making good on the trade.
But Darcy didn't understand all that. She looked at him and saw the bruises. She didn't understand that the damage goes away. Or maybe… maybe he didn't understand. Maybe the damage was there, under the surface, hidden from casual eyes. Steve frowned. He hadn't been truly seen by anyone so clearly since… Peggy.
"Darcy, I…" at a loss as to what to say, Steve ran his hand through his dirty hair and leaned back.
"Ah, shit," Darcy muttered.
Steve followed her gaze through the windshield. A tree felled by the storm lay across the road. Sheets of rain hammered the ground in front of the headlights.
"What do we do?" asked Darcy as she braked carefully on wet asphalt.
"I got it," Steve assured her.
"Oh, right. Forgot I was road-tripping with Cap for a second there."
Feeling their awkwardness forgotten, Steve shot her a grin as he got out - quickly though, as their pursuers had to be close behind. He jogged to the heavy tree, visible in the bright headlights. But the moment he touched it, a cacophony of sound erupted.
Darcy leaned on the horn and flashed the lights, pointing upward. Simultaneously, the unmistakable sound of a helicopter descended upon them. Steve squinted up into its bright beam. Angled raindrops sprayed down on him as its blades spun, whipping up local precipitation into a flurry of water. He hailed it with a wave.
Darcy ran from the vehicle to join him, putting up one hand to shade her eyes from the beam. She'd thoughtfully grabbed his shield, Steve realized, perturbed by how much he enjoyed the sight of her running toward him holding it. Her hair was thoroughly wet with rain and droplets clung to the lenses of her glasses. Her full lips were just as striking without the cherry-red lipstick she usually wore. He dragged his eyes away as she came to his side.
"Please tell me these are friends!" she shouted over the noise of the helicopter's blades.
"Yep. This is definitely our ride."
"It's about time!" Darcy laughed.
She handed Steve the shield and he took it almost reluctantly. They were both soaked to the bone and he knew he looked a mess, but Darcy's bright smile in the darkness buoyed his heart. He remembered the feel of her fingers on his in the cabin; he wanted that again. Shyly, he reached out and touched her hand. His heartbeat hammered when she gripped his fingers tightly in response.
The helicopter slowed, then stopped its descent. A rope ladder rolled down from the open side as a loudspeaker boomed.
"Did you miss us, guys?" Black Widow's amplified voice came down at them. "Hurry up, it's chilly out here."
Steve let go of Darcy's hand and grabbed a rung to steady the ladder.
"Ladies first," he offered, feeling the attempt to be charming blunted by his black-and-blue mug.
Darcy hurried up the ladder. Natasha got her secured, then turned to Steve as he settled himself and strapped in.
"We caught up with Doctor Tennison on his way back in. He was only too happy to give up the location of this compound in exchange for a deal. Apparently there was some blackmail involved; we'll let the lawyers sort it all out."
Steve nodded. "I guessed as much. And the ringleader of this circus?"
Nat pulled a face. "We got his driver. He managed to evade. Do you know who he is?"
Steve shook his head. "I don't. I can give a description. Several of the guys back in the cabin are ex-SHIELD, of course, but I haven't met their boss before."
A quiet gasp from Darcy interrupted them.
"He got away?" she asked, eyes fearful. "What about Brendan?"