Chapter 16

In the profound silence of my apartment, I stood at the door watching the hallway down which the Avengers had disappeared. They'd taken the stairs, and I had no idea where they'd gone or how long they expected to be.

I didn't know what to think about the fact that apparently Steve hadn't really NEEDED to stay in my apartment. I guess it really wasn't all that surprising. After all, the way that Natasha and Sam came in and out made me think that they had a place very nearby they were using as a home base.

Steve could have stayed with them, and I was sure the Avengers of all people had top of the line monitoring equipment. It sounded like Stark was planning on installing security, but I imagined it could have been done when they first arrived— maybe not as well as someone like the technical genius I understood Stark to be would do it, but well enough to suffice.

I thought it was weird the way that Stark had seemed to flash hot and cold on me, but then again, from the few stories Steve had told, the guy seemed to have trust issues. And I thought I remembered reading something in the newspapers right around when Iron Man had showed up for the first time, about his business partner doing some really shady things and trying to kill him, so those issues were probably warranted.

I assumed Natasha had run some extensive background checks on me and probably knew insanely personal information like the results of my last gynecological exam (all clear), but maybe Stark didn't know that or needed to get to know me for himself.

Of course whether or not I could get on his good side was all academic if they decided they were needed elsewhere more urgently and left.

And where would that leave Steve and I?

When I'd convinced Bucky to come in, I'd been completely honest about not caring about a ruined date night with Steve if it meant him finally getting his best friend back. But I'd kind of envisioned the night would evolve into just Steve, Bucky, Natasha, Sam and I casually hanging around, enjoying some food and drinks, and exchanging stories.

I was excited about a whole new realm of Steve stories I could undoubtedly get from Bucky.

I wasn't expecting to meet the rest of the Avengers— or stun gun one. My stomach rolled thinking about the fact that I'd stun gunned Hawkeye so badly that Steve had to carry him off to the team meeting over his shoulder. I was pretty sure he used to be an assassin too, and that was a pretty awful first impression to make.

Just the idea of how he would react when he awoke made me want to hurl.

Actually… I wasn't exaggerating, I was going to puke.

I turned to rush to the bathroom, and something brushed my arm. Looking down I realized it was a dart just sticking out of me— poison or tranquilizing there was no way to tell. Great. I'd stood in the doorway to my apartment for too long, and someone had darted me.

I hated being darted.

Things got really wobbly and I saw… Jason's neighbor?... walk up to me. This time she had a few large men with her, and they seemed to be in a rush as two of them scooped me up. I saw the woman shut my door and do up all the locks, then they carried me out to the fire escape.

I was concentrating on not throwing up, which at some point, I realize was stupid. I actually would LOVE to throw up on my kidnappers. Even if it didn't somehow save me, I could at least have that small measure of revenge.

Turning my head, I puked all over the one who was carrying the top half of my body. He exclaimed in surprise and dropped me, my head smacking the cold ground and the man below me letting go so I was unceremoniously dropped with a thunk.

The bursts of pain combined with the shock of the cold wet snow jolted me out of my drugged semi-consciousness enough that I managed to stumble halfway up to my feet and try to run away.

I didn't think I was running in a straight line or very fast at all, so it was no real surprise that they easily caught me. Obviously pissed at my attempt to flee, the third man punched me in the face, and it was lights out again.

"Ms. Plum?"

"Ms. Plum?"

"I know you're waking up. Don't try to pretend otherwise," a voice spoke to me and pulled me back out of the darkness.

I opened my eyes and immediately threw up everywhere.

"How unfortunate," the voice said. "No matter. Now that you're back with us, we can get to the last step."

I felt a needle prick and searing pain rack my entire body. I screamed as it felt like my blood was being lit on fire, and I flinched reflexively, only realizing when I hit the ends of my bonds that I was once more strapped onto a metal table. I was fully restrained.

"Yes!" The voice said. "VERY GOOD. Fight it! Tame it!"

I screamed until I was hoarse, and I couldn't scream anymore. Still the pain filled my existence.

I felt myself wake once more, and I knew I had passed out from the pain. I wasn't sure how long I had been out of it, but I didn't hear the voice or anyone else around.

"Okay, Stephanie," I muttered to myself. "Time to move. Time to get free. You don't know how long you have until whoever gets back, and you don't want to be here when they do. You can't rely on anyone else to save you. The Avengers might have decided you were a liar and Bucky wasn't to be trusted and left. If they didn't go back to your apartment, they might not know you were gone."

I started working the bonds and argued with myself, "no. I don't know about the others, but I'm absolutely certain Steve wouldn't do that. And where Steve goes, Bucky goes, so that's two super soldiers who will try to find you right there. That's pretty good."

"Of course, they may not be able to find me," another part of me said. "And then what? You just live here being injected with whatever the hell that was as often as they feel like it? No! You will save yourself."

"Be your own superhero," this simple reminder came from another voice in my head, and it sounded an awful lot like Steve's voice.

Steve. I really liked Steve. I wanted to date Steve. I didn't just want to get to know Steve anymore. I knew Steve. We'd had the better part of two weeks together, and we'd spent so many hours trading stories, answering questions, getting to know each other. I didn't need more time to decide what I wanted. I wanted Steve.

"Okay, Steph," I told myself. "Then go get him."

But how?

I yanked up at the bonds, getting angrier and angrier as I failed to noticeably shift them. And then suddenly, I jerked free and overbalanced myself, falling to the ground naked.

I was pretty sure that I had been wearing a hospital gown a few seconds ago, but whatever.

I needed to get out of that place.

I pushed myself up, surprised at how weak I felt. Stumbling a little, I searched the room looking for something, anything, that I could use as a weapon.

I crashed into something metal and found a bone saw, scalpel, scissors, rib cutters… gross. I was pretty sure that all those things combined meant they either thought I was already dead or expected me to die and planned to cut me open.

Or, oh God, they were going to cut me open while I was alive?!

"Fuck that," I grumbled. "Nope nope nope. Nobody is cutting me open today. NO THANK YOU."

I grabbed the scissors and the scalpel. Then I noticed a bigger knife and traded the scissors for that.

One more quick look around didn't reveal any clothes, and being not naked seemed much less important than being not sliced open, so I decided to go with it for the moment.

I made it to the door, and tried the handle in vain. Locked.

I pulled and pulled and pulled, beginning to freak out about not being able to get out, but there were no windows. It was the only way. Unless! I rolled my eyes up. Drop ceiling. Perfect.

I picked the tallest counter, climbed onto it, and when I couldn't quite reach, I stacked a couple boxes on top of each other and used them to get myself higher. I climbed in and made what I thought would have been the equivalent of about three steps out of the room, and bam.

I crashed through one of the soft tiles and hit the ground below.

I was momentarily stunned, as was the security guard who had been sitting outside the door.

His mistake was stumbling up and coming toward me to try to get me himself without calling for help first.

It was pure instinct, but when he reached out to grab me by the shoulder, the hand that was holding the scalpel came up and slashed across his throat.

A totally disgusting spray of blood drenched me and I retched a few times at it as well as the surprised look that was stuck on his face and the thunk of his body as he hit the ground.

I killed him. Oh shit. I killed him.

I scrambled to my feet in a panic, but then I reminded myself that he was NOT a good guy. He would have turned me in for more experimentation or possibly killed me himself. It was basically self defense. Right?

And Steve. If I wanted to see Steve again, kiss Steve again, maybe even start making a life with Steve, then I had to get out of this place. No matter how many people I had to kill.

Maybe it wasn't the best, or most feminist motivator, but I had to go with that for the time being because it was what my brain had come up with. And I had to get out of there.

I was strong. What had Steve called me? Tenacious. I was tenacious. What I lacked in skills and training, I would make up for with sheer will to survive.

Thankfully, the guard had a belt on, I discovered when I got myself to focus on him again. Even if the clothes were covered in blood, they were better than no clothes. I stripped him and then dressed myself. Pulling the belt to its tightest setting, I thought it might just barely make the pants snug enough to stay if I needed to run.

I hoped. I'd chased more than one skip in sagging pants before, and they were often easy to catch because their pants fell to their ankles and tripped them up.

The guard also had a utility belt, so I grabbed that.

I now had an ID badge on one of those retractable cords, a set of keys, a gun, and a flashlight in addition to the scalpel and knife.

"Way to go, Steph," I told myself.

Luck was on my side, in a way, because although it had surprised me a lot, the scalpel had been a quiet method of killing the guard, and it seemed that nobody was alerted to my escape. Yet.

I felt around to the back side of the belt once more, and discovered a radio. So hopefully I would have some kind of a head start when they came for me. And they would come for me.

Then my fingers closed around it. My actual phone a friend. My lifeline. No ask the audience— there was no audience.

What? I'd always wanted to be a millionaire.

But it was an actual phone. I wished for a moment that I knew Steve's phone number. Why hadn't I gotten around to memorizing that? If I was about to die, I really wished I could say goodbye to Steve. And he'd be a really good choice for trying to get saved.

Still, there was a number I did know by heart, and my fingers were dialing it, hoping he would answer.

I heard the click of a line opening, but he didn't say anything.

"R-r-r-ang-er" I stuttered out at whisper.

"Babe?" He asked incredulously. Then, "are you okay? Where are you?"

"I killed him, Ranger. Oh my god, I killed him." That was still all I could really think.

"Who, Steph? Who did you kill?" He asked.

There was the sound of a scuffle on the other end of the line, and then I heard Steve's voice.

"Steph? WHERE ARE YOU?" No that wasn't quite Steve. That was Captain America. I was talking to Captain America.

"I killed him, Cap," I groaned and slid to the floor in relief that I was getting to talk to Steve, even if it was in his Captain America persona. "And I don't know where I am, but it's big. So there have to be more guards. And I just. I don't know what to do."

"Okay, listen to me, Steph. I need you to focus," the Captain barked out at me. "We are tracing your call. Was it a guard you killed?"

"Yes," I said. "I got loose, and I had a scalpel, and I fell into the hallway. And he came at me…" I trailed off and took a deep breath. "But I have his radio and I don't think they know. Yet."

"Then here's what you're going to do for me, Steph. First you're going to take another deep breath." He obviously heard me do so because he continued, "Good. Now. I need you to listen to me and do what I say. And no matter what, keep this line open as long as you can. Even if you have to stop talking to me to keep from being detected, don't hang up, okay? Now you're in a hallway, right?"

"Yes," I confirmed.

"Okay, do you see any fire exit signs?" He asked.

"YES!" I had to keep myself from shouting. "It has a picture of stairs on it, so there's a staircase there."

"That means you probably aren't on the first floor, but that's okay. Alright, Steph. We're starting to narrow down the cell phone location. You're in Europe, okay. And that's not so far away. We're already in our jet, and we're coming for you. It flies faster than the speed of sound, but you're going to need to either find a place to hide or get out of there."

"Out," I practically shouted that. My gut was screaming at me that I needed to get out, and I needed to do it RIGHT THEN. "I'm going to the stairs now."

"Okay, are there any doors right near the stairs? Often that's where there are janitorial closets."

"Yes, I see one."

"Does it say anything on the outside?" He asked.

"I can't read it. I don't recognize these letters," I answered. "It isn't our alphabet."

Steve started to talk, but I cut him off, "well, that's not exactly true. The first one looks like a c, and then there's a t? And an e? But then there's a lot of symbols I don't know."

"Perfect! That should be a closet, Steph," Cap told me. "You can hide there if you need to. Can you open it?"

I tried the door, "it's locked." But then I remembered the card and looked to the side of the door. Card reader. I swiped and said, "I have a keycard. I'm in. Holy shit."

"What?" Cap's voice asked urgently.

"I thought it was going to be cleaning supplies, but it is not," I informed him distractedly.

"What is it?"

"Chemicals. I can't read them, but some of these symbols are pretty universal," I said confidently.

I mean, it really was easy. There were some bottles that had flames on them— small, medium, or large. Presumably the size of the flame referred to how flammable they were. And then there was something that HAD to mean explosive.

I hummed a little to myself as I pushed some aside and grabbed others saying, "big flames, big flames, explosive, yes please. Biohazard, radiation, pass pass. Explosive, big flames. Okay, I don't think I can carry more than this."

"Steph, what are you doing?" Cap asked trepidatiously.

"Making myself hard to miss," I told him. "Even from way up in a jet."

"Steph, be careful," he warned. "Just get out of there, we'll take care of the rest. You don't need to do anything big."

"I got this, Cap," I insisted.

It was entirely possible the adrenaline had gotten to me.

I opened the door to the closet as I realized there was increasing levels of chatter coming over the radio.

"Crap, I think they're onto me," I said.

I ducked my head out and saw security guards standing looking at the guard I'd taken out. So I rushed to the stairway door and had it open before they saw me.

Of course, it set off an alarm, so they knew where I was then.

"What was that?!" Steve was losing his calm, cool Cap edge at the sounds of the alarm coming over the phone.

I didn't answer him, I just ran down the stairs, hoping I needed to go down not up.

A couple times I dropped bottles, glad when they didn't seem to be the explosive ones— or maybe they just needed something else to make them explode. When I reached the last level, I took a deep breath and shoved the door open. Right across from me I could see a glass door leading to outside.

There were shouts from down the hall and I turned to see guards coming at me. They had guns drawn, but they stopped short momentarily when they saw the bottles grabbed up in my arms.

It was the opportunity I needed. I awkwardly threw everything I was carrying as far forward as I could, which wasn't all that far. Maybe I had grabbed too many jars. Regardless, I stepped back, thought I saw something smoking, and drew my gun as I hit the door to the outside.

One bullet went into the puddle of chemicals as I pushed the door open and the explosion that followed threw me the rest of the way out of the building.

I hit a tree, and the wind was knocked out of me. I didn't think I actually lost consciousness, but by the time I had sorted myself out, a good portion of the building seemed to be up in flames. And there was a lot of yelling. People running, but nobody seemed to notice little old me.

I stayed low in piles of snow that put New Jersey to shame, and slunk to the parking lot. Pulling the guard's keys out of the belt, I was grateful that he seemed to have a key fob like we used in the states. I pushed the unlock button frantically as I snuck through lanes. When a car's light's finally flashed, I waited for a minute to make sure nobody noticed and came running.

Then I made a break for it, throwing myself in the car, starting it, and getting it in gear. Thankfully that was a pretty universal experience, and before long I started driving.

As I did, I finally remembered the phone and picked it up and put it in my ear. I could hear Steve calling to me in a panicked voice, and I said, "I'm sorry! I was getting away from the building. I have a car! I have no idea where I am, but I am getting the fuck out of here!"

"What car are you in?" He asked, sounded like the relatively calm Captain America once more.

"The fuck if I know! It isn't a Ford or any other brand I recognized! It's a compact and it's silver," I told him. "And I'm driving really, really fast."

"We see you," he told me tersely.

"You're already here?" I asked incredulously.

"The jet is faster than that car," he answered. "Stop now!"

I slammed on the brakes and skidded a bit on ice and snow on the road, eyes widening as I saw the jet materialize out of nowhere in front of me, hovering a few stories above ground.

I skidded to a stop about twenty yards away and propelled myself out of the car even as the back of the jet opened up. Captain America jumped down and landed in a crouch, shield digging into the ground.

All the adrenaline started flooding out of my body at the sight or certain rescue, and I felt myself starting to fall— more weak and exhausted than I had been when I'd first gotten off the metal table in the lab.

Cap was there before I hit the ground, catching me and swinging me up into his arms.

"Hi," I said weakly. "That's a good look for you."

"Right back at you," he told me as he ran back to the jet and grabbed onto a rope that had lowered out of it. I felt the jet start to fly away, even as we started being pulled up into it.

"Yeah, right," I said. "Steve I'm covered in blood and wearing the clothes of someone I killed."

As we made it into the jet, Bucky reached an arm out to make sure we were steady as Cap stepped over onto solid ground.

"And you have never looked more beautiful to me than you do in this moment," Steve said.

And the truly frightening thing was that I thought he meant it.