They walked in a line formation, the Soldier leading the way with confident, quick strides, Mallory lulling slightly behind him. The forest was absolutely freezing at the dawn of the day, mist coming from her mouth as her warm breath made contact with the cold air like she was blowing smoke from a cigarette. The cold seemed to have seeped into her bones, chilling her further with every step she took. She felt like a human icicle, her veins freezing up and her heart becoming slower and slower as it slowly frosted over. The stench of the forest was subtle, that fresh, clean air scent that purged the lungs of the horrible thick city air. Alongside the air was the sour tang of dirt and salt, strangely, as if some sort of river was nearby. She couldn't hear a stream but she could smell one. Animals made various noises in the distance, a constant omnipresent soundtrack to aid Mallory's constant breathing and the Soldier's quiet chink of the arm and her backpack rubbing against the material of her jacket. They walked in a comfortable silence, through the identical trees and footpaths but always in the same direction vaguely. Mallory had no idea which way was north, or how to tell which way was north so she was trusting the Soldier fully in his sense of direction.
To keep herself occupied, Mallory found herself humming the theme tunes to certain TV shows and some of her favourite songs. If she was hiking with a friend or Rumlow, she'd engage them in a game of Guess the Theme but she doubted the Soldier had ever watched a TV show ever. She considered asking him but he was pursuing the prison with a ruthless determination that only Pierce could match when he did those shark eyes that both terrified and spurred Mallory into action. Distracting him with something as trivial as TV felt like something someone awful would do, so she decided not too. Still he had not objected to the sound of her off-key humming so Mallory took that as a good sign.
He barely spoke, just uttering commands every now and again and focusing her attention back on the mission when she stopped a little too longer to linger after a deer. The one she'd seen a few miles back was the prettiest, big long lashes fluttering over big brown eyes. She had crept up on it, getting close enough to touch it when the Soldier had stamped his foot on the ground The deer's head snapped up and within seconds it had bound through the trees.
He didn't say anything; just gave her a disapproving look, his signature narrow eyed stare. Mallory ignored him and followed him further through the trees. She had so far resisted the temptation to repeat "are we there yet?" with every ten steps but it was getting harder.
As the day wore on and it got colder and Mallory's feet were being horribly strangled by the confines of her leather boots and she could feel blisters springing up everywhere, Mallory's energy was sapped. It reminded her of her younger self who had experienced those wonderful and stressful college days; days spent wide eyed and insomniac, worrying over tests and due dates and extra credit. The Mallory who could run full throttle without having no sleep for forty eight hours on just a lot of caffeine and hope was not the current Mallory. This Mallory could barely stand a hike in the wounds without wanting to kill every single person who had guilt-tripped, manipulated or asked nicely for her to to be here. Her frustration was a slow burning fire in her stomach, yet it didn't effect the blasts of icy cold air that came from the direction they travelled in. She hadn't been travelling for a day yet and she already just wanted to crawl into a ball and die.
"How's your ribs?" She had suddenly remembered he had bruised his ribs when she'd tackled him into the steel examination table in their lab.
"Fine."
"If they start to hurt, you will tell me won't you?" He nodded. "Because there's aspirin in the backpack somewhere."
Mallory rubbed her head and smiled at him. "Do you know how to hunt? With a bow and arrow?" She was just making conversation for the sake of talking now.
He nodded. "Yeah."
"Are you still having those dreams? About the falling?" He nodded at her. In the lab she was always used to his inability to express himself with words. Yet out here, him being the only ear she had for miles, she was eager for him to talk about something. Even a sentence that was longer then a few words would do.
Mallory found a question that seemed appropriate enough to ask in this darkened forest with no cameras. "Do you remember anything? Of your past life?"
The Soldier stopped fully and turned to face her, his boots crushing twigs and crisp leaves alike under his toes. His expression was one of anger but also one of frustration; a crease appeared in his forehead as he desperately attempted to cast his mind back. Mallory stopped too, watching his face change as he tried to think.
And then he shook his head, composed his face and pushed past her.
"Let's keep moving."
As the sun went down, the Soldier finally stopped. Without a word, he yanked Mallory's backpack off her shoulders and rummaged inside. When he found what he was looking for, he ordered her to go and find some dry sticks to start a fire. Mallory agreed, and sauntered off into the woods to find it.
It was freezing and it felt weird not being tethered to the Soldier; although he was a silent, brooding walking partner he was a partner all the same. Mallory could've used some company. She allowed herself to think of Rumlow as she gathered an armful of sticks, and stumbled blindly in the dark back to their new camp where the Soldier had arranged their tins of food in a line across the ring of stones that served as their fire.
"Cute." She remarked, handing him the sticks and watching him make the fire from the match in her bag. The sudden warmth was invigorating and Mallory sat down on the dirt to draw strength from the crackling fire.
The Soldier grabbed the tomato soup can she had been eyeing – never mind, she'd have the ham and pea one – and stabbed his knife in the lid, tearing it off with his metal left hand. Then he motioned for her to pass over her backpack and he rummaged through it, finding a bowl to pour the stuff in and balancing it on rocks to heat it up.
Mallory was bored so she stared up at the darkening sky. She must've dropped off for a doze as the next thing she knew the Soldier was passing her the bowl of the tomato soup and a cup of water.
"I thought this was yours-" She glanced and saw he'd opened the pea and ham can of soup for himself. Mallory hid a smile. "Thank you."
He didn't say anything. He didn't need too.
When Mallory was reasonably full she unfurled the sleeping bag and got herself comfortable as the day turned to night. Despite her worries that she would not be able to sleep well, she fell asleep to the soft crackling of the fire, and the repetitive scraping of the Soldier's spoon on his bowl as he scooped soup up and drank it down, her hungry Soldier keeping watch over her sleep.
She woke to the sound of men shouting and, a small circle pressed roughly into her spine. Rolling over to question who was there, she turned to the bright dawn of a new day, skies gray but bluer then they had been yesterday, and the angered face of a man staring down at her, sweat dripping from his nose, brandishing a rifle pointed straight at her face.
"Jesus Christ-"
Fear caused Mallory's heart to flip and she scrambled to her feet, the man with the gun waving it wildly and yelling in Russian at her. She looked across the camp and found the Soldier's sleeping bag empty, his backpack and weapons missing.
Where had he gone? Six other Russian men with rifles surrounded the camp, including the one who was shouting at her. She couldn't understand a word he was saying and sweat was beginning to cling her tank top to her skin uncomfortably. There was a knife strapped to her inner thigh, her outer calf and the side of her ankle but she was afraid if she went to get them, the man would blow her brains out.
And even if she had a knife in her hand, what could she do it? Right now she was the literal representation of someone bringing a knife to a gunfight. The most she could do would be to stab him in the leg and even then, if in a likely situation she'd hit the femoral artery, his friends would have shot her to pieces before she could even watch him go through hypovolemic shock. If he commanded her to get up and she didn't, would he execute her on the grounds of her ignorance of his language? She wasn't sure.
"Там еще один." Another man walked up to the one threatening to shoot her in the face, gesturing around the camp. "Там две спальные мешки."
What? Mallory frowned. Even if she had understood even a word of that, he spat his words with a rapid fire pace. It was impossible to understand. She just had to hope the Soldier was nearby and cooking up some ridiculous plan to save her.
The leader who'd woken her responded. "Где ебут это другой тогда?" He sounded patronizing then softened his voice. "Возьмите Георгий и сканировать лес для них. Мы возьмем эту суку обратно к соединению."
Mallory watched the exchange almost fascinated with them, as if they were another species. The guy who'd woken her was definitely the leader, and the man who had came up to them yelled something out and another man followed him into the woods.
"Право. Мы лучше вернуться." Two of the remaining man grabbed her and began to haul her through the words. Doing what any sane person would, she began to make as much noise as possible by kicking and screaming.
"Help me! Please! I know you're out there. Soldier!"
One of the men who was dragging her spat in her face. She recoiled, suddenly dirtier and more disgusted then she had been. Tears stung of embarrassment and horror, and she tore her hand away from the guard to wipe her face.
And then in the distance, Mallory heard it. Two gunshots, fired almost straight after one another. The men immediately forget she was there and raised their guns, four rifles cocking instantaneously. Silence and tension tightened hand in hand and Mallory slowly began to back away as the group of four created a protective shield around her. She scanned the trees, trying desperately to remember any of the Soldier's tactics regarding forest combat but somehow his black armour, metal arm or even the shiny red star didn't stand out glaringly from the canvas of bleak greenery and slight fog.
One of the Russians became impatient. "Показать себя, мать-"
He barely got to finish what he was saying with something came sailing out of the trees. The men stared at it, stunned but Mallory knew exactly what it was. A smoke bomb, developed with the funding from Reznak's business deal to deliver a choking and stinging smoke which enveloped a radius of 200 square meters and lasted ten seconds. She hoped it would hurt. Mallory squeezed her eyes shut and clamped her lips together.
She heard the bang of the bomb and the hiss as the smoke was released, and the air around her suddenly became sticky to breathe through even her nose. It was warm and humid, the climate of what she imagined a tropical beach or a rainforest to resemble. An overall unpleasant experience, as proper sweat began to roll down her face and glue her hair to her head. Around she could hear panicked men screaming and shouting, rifles triggers' accidentally being set off and the blast of gunfire so close she feared for her life. Blind and unable to breathe without drawing short, sharp gasps, Mallory stumbled through the darkness until pressure suddenly grabbed her wrist and someone threw her to the cold.
She opened her eyes just as she hit the floor. Turning, the Soldier stood above her, his moves critically but also assessing her for any type of injury with a huge rifle in his hands. Apart from her pride, she was unharmed.
"Don't move." He commanded her gruffly. He cocked the rifle and went to go running into the fog with every intention of killing every last member but Mallory remembered their mission and jumped up to pull him back.
"We want to be captured. Not burying bodies."
The Soldier's jaw tightened and he sighed. He put the rifle on the ground and stood in the middle of the clearing fog, an ominous silence falling over the air. When the fog cleared, the nearest man who was still coughing his guts up grabbed a gun and jabbed it at him. He fired but he was too slow for the Winter Soldier; he raised his left arm across his body and the bullets bounced off his metal arm.
The men stood in an impressed if horrified silence. Then the leader nodded.
They led them north, and they walked for four hours. Every time Mallory paused to catch her break with the breakneck pace of the Russians, or stopped to rearranged which blister her shoe was resting on her foot, the Russian would jab her in the back with the butt of his rifle and bark at her to carry on. When he'd finally lost his temper with her and kicked her in the back of her legs, forcing her on her knees, the Soldier had lost his own. He kicked free of his bindings, and swiped the man's balance so he lay helpless on the floor. Using only his feet, and the steel toes of his boots, he kicked into his ribs until the Soldier was yanked off him and punched for his insubordination. But the man didn't find any cause to do it again when she slowed. Mallory had shot the Soldier a very grateful look and he'd nodded back.
After the four hours, they came upon a huge gray concrete building surrounded with barbed wire fences. A huge metal gate had long metal wire bridges where men and women patrolled with huge rifles. The buzz of the electrics could be heard from afar, and sounded a little like an annoying bee fluttering in an omnipresent state. A guard outlook yelled at them, probably to state their intentions, but when the guard recognized the men with them he'd yelled at the woman on the gate to open it for them. An answering yell alerted Mallory to the loud buzz, followed by a piercing alarm that repeated a few words over and over in Russian. It drilled in Mallory's mind, and she winced when they started their convoy closer to the inside of the prison.
The inside of the compound was different. A concrete pathway surrounded with huge fences with the same electrical buzz lead them rather nicely towards the front door; surrounding that was a large white sand area with wild Rottweilers barking constantly. Mallory's heart had already been working overtime, but at the sight of the hungry Rottweiler assessing her flesh her mouth went dry and she was having four of the symptoms of a heart attack. One flung itself at gate and rattled the chains it was leashed on, singling out Mallory as it's sole target. She was sure she read somewhere that dogs could smell fear and attacked those who were weak; whether it be myth, fact or an old wives tale, this dog was definitely targeting the weakest and the most meek of the lot. She looked up from the Rottweiler and found the Soldier, in front of her, had turned to offer her a sort of semi-reassuring look. Despite his reluctance to show any type of emotion, it had worked and Mallory, like she had on the helicopter, drew her strength from him.
Another man met them at the front door, glaring at their two new prisoners. Metal detectors were scanned over their bodies, and they were both stripped of their armour. Mallory's jacket was torn from her back, her boots forced off, knives taken off her. Even the hidden knife inside her tank top – which she hadn't actually realized was there – was discovered and taken off her when the guard had patted her down.
The detector went wild on the Soldier's arm. The guard sighed and went to pull his arm off, but it wouldn't work; the implant was surgically attached to her Soldier's skin. Pulling his cybernetic arm off would be as hard as pulling a real arm off; David had assured her of that with pride. Once the guard was frustrated with the fact that it wouldn't come off and seemingly satisfied there was no hidden weapons, he sighed heavily and waved them in with a harsh word.
They led them through the door that sounded an electronic buzz; it reminded her of the door back in her lab. The corridor lead straight down and on each side of the room was cubes of cells blocked off with tall metal bars, a small gap filled in where a metal plate stood bearing a few numbers and some words in Russian. These cubes had one bed, one toilet, and one small barred window to let light in. Inside these cubes prisoners were held, hard eyed and sour faced. Their order seemed random, sometimes a cell would have two people in, sometimes it would have eight. However after they passed cube after cube, she noticed they did have some sort of pattern.
They ordered by ethnicity, or the country they belonged too. A group of sombre Japanese men were cubed next to a mixture of male and female glaring Brazilians; across from them were a couple of crying and some silent Chinese people, next to them was a solitary Spanish man muttering his language on the bed and clutching a Bible. A crazed looking German man threw himself at the bars and began jabbering wildly and as they reached an empty cell, next door a heavily pregnant French women stirred with surprise and suddenly gasped, and her friend lead her to sit down on the bed to keep her comfortable.
They were herded into the empty cell, the Russian guard laughed and shut the doors. He produced a key and leisurely swung it this way and that in his hands, and Mallory could almost feel each prisoner praying in their respective language to their respective Gods that he would drop it. He then suddenly locked the door of their cell and walked back down the corridor. When the door clanged shut and an electrical buzz sounded that it was locked, Mallory and the Soldier exchanged glances.
"So..." She said, sitting on the lumpy bed. "We've been captured. Now what?"
The Soldier looked around, looking less aggressive and more melancholy now he had been stripped of his armour. "We wait."
Mallory looked around the entire prison and lowered her voice. "I don't see any members of the STRIKE force, or Kohl."
"They're probably keeping them in a separate block. These are the civilians." He said the word like it was synonymous with terminal illness.
The Hippocratic oath buzzed in Mallory's mind and she found herself shyly stealing glances at the French lady in the cell next door; through the bars she could see she cradled her huge stomach with her hands protectively. Her clothes were drab but clean. Her hair needed a wash and she looked a little pale but healthy enough; no visible signs of any wounds. She assessed her with a doctors assessing gaze and estimated her to be pretty far in her pregnancy. Judging from how uncomfortable she was looking, she was probably ready to pop any day now.
The lady seemed to realize that she was being stared at she looked up."Take a picture. It'll last longer." Her voice was heavily accented but her English was perfect. Mallory found herself smiling and stood to converse with her through the bars.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to be rude." She nodded towards her stomach. "How far along are you?"
The woman took it the wrong way. "Why? You want to know I'm ready yet? Are you going to try and hurt me and my baby? You won't touch us! You won't touch us!"
Mallory glanced back at the Soldier, who shrugged at her seeming to not be bothered by the shouting French woman. Mallory attempted to calm her down.
"Hey, hey I didn't mean anything by it. I just-"
The woman didn't hear her, repeating the same phrase. "You won't touch us! You hear me, you fucking Yank bitch? You won't touch us!" She suddenly moved at surprising speed and sank her teeth into Mallory's hand where she had rested it on the bars. "Vous ne nous touchez pas!"
Mallory cried out when the woman's teeth made contact with her hand, the bite hard enough to draw blood. The Soldier was up and instantly had kicked at the bars, scaring the pregnant lady off. He dragged Mallory into the corner, where they sat on the bed together. Blood, scarlet red ran down Mallory's hand like a fine bracelet, tickling her wrist and reminding her of an insect crawling up her skin.
Mallory looked at the woman with concern and sucked the blood off. "Ow. Jesus. I'm not going to hurt you."
The woman's friend directed an angry tirade of French gibberish to her, settling the pregnant lady back on the bed. The Soldier ignored the French women yelling, and tore the cuff of his right sleeve off and pressed it against Mallory's wound.
"Ow. I didn't realize you were a doctor." She said sourly. The Soldier raised his eyebrow at her and Mallory found herself smiling until he pressed his hand on her newly formed wound; she tore it away from his grip and bit back a gasp.
He frowned at her and grabbed it back. "Stay still." The command was installed in every word.
Mallory made a face but obeyed him, holding out her bloodstained wrist so could tie the cuff of his sleeve around it. When they were done, the Soldier returned to his previous seating position and seemed to ignore Mallory completely.
She lay down on the bed, sighing, knowing she was going to be in for a long night.
Day turned to night, then back to day and night again. Two full days had passed. Two full days of sweat and dirt from the tightly packed and heated bodies within the compound. Two full days of trading places with the Soldier from the bed to floor; the night spent on the lumpy and hard bed was a walk in the park compared to the hard concrete floor. Two full days of a brooding Soldier who was becoming more pissed off by the hour, and a filthy Mallory who desperately needed... well there was no reason to be gentle... a shit. Two days until something wonderful happened.
Breakfast came it seemed whenever the guards desired it to. They weren't escorted into a separate dining room, but given their breakfast in their cells. Consisting of porridge with no sugar or honey, it was swallowed with a cup of water that was confiscated ten minutes later whether you finished it or not. Dinner was sometime later, a can of some sort of red stuff that passed as meat. Bathroom breaks took place whenever you liked but there was something primitive about shitting in front of the Soldier that she tried to hang on. Even if they were able to get sleep when the sun went down, some prisoners would talk constantly during the night or cry loudly, and the pregnant woman had difficulty getting comfortable so she was always shifting mere meters from her.
Being in the field on this mission was a lot less exciting then she'd imagined. Yes she'd been airdropped into the middle of a Russian forest and captured by their forces and she'd ran blind through the Soldier's smoke bomb, but it seemed it was ninety percent wishing for someone to magically rescue her and buy her a McDonalds. They'd seen no sign of Kohl or any of the STIRKE or HYDRA agents who had been imprisoned.
The guards had passed the cubes as normal on the third day and collected their food. However, one of them began to cough loudly. Mallory had ignored him and began counting the cracks in the concrete ceiling. However when the guards had begun to yell worriedly, and even the Soldier started towards the iron bars, Mallory had stood up. She saw the man was on the ground, lips blue, pale face, wheezing in a way that resembled an asthma attack.
"Hey! Hey!" The guards had ignored her. "I'm a doctor I can help him!"
The Soldier repeated her words in Russian. The guards had looked up hesitantly until the man was spluttering up rather horribly. One of the guards nodded towards her cell and another freed her.
She ran towards him and immediately began searching his pockets.
"Where's your inhaler? Inhaler!" The Soldier translated quickly and the man shrugged. A Russian female guard had grabbed Mallory's shoulder and yelled something. The Soldier translated, eerily calm with the panicking scene.
"She said he left it at home." Mallory rolled her eyes, trying desperately to remember her training.
"Okay..." She stopped the search and turned the Soldier. "Do they have any antihistamines?"
He frowned at her but asked all the same. "Yes they do."
"Right. Bring the antihistamines." The Soldier told the guard and the guard raced off in search for coffee and drugs. She cupped the mans cheek, who was beginning to properly panic and turned to his friend who was supporting his head.
"Calm him down!" The Soldier relayed her instructions and almost immediately the man began to practically sing to the patient on the ground. The women returned, carrying the drugs and a bottle of water. Mallory put him a safe position for him to safely swallow the drugs and water, then putting him in the recovery position in case he swallowed his tongue. Eventually, he stopped looking as if he'd been strangled and straightened up. Mallory raised herself up and found herself staring into the eyes of the Russian woman who had retrieved the gifts.
She said something and the Soldier translated without prompt. "She said thank you."
Even with her thanks, Mallory was locked into the cell again. Sighing, the Soldier sat back down on the bed as the guards dispersed.
"You're a doctor?"
Mallory looked up and saw the French woman who had bitten her looking at her curiously. Too exhausted for words, Mallory nodded.
"I was wondering… is morning sickness common for the third trimester? Because with my daughter, it disappeared in the second?"
Mallory bit her lip and thought about it for a moment. "Really, there's no set time for morning sickness. I've had cases where women have had it up until birth. But usually, that type of morning sickness can be traced down to emotional issues as the due date gets closer a kinda pregnancy anxiety. What you're going through may be just a reaction to your surroundings, and your… situation."
There was a pause as she contemplated, then the woman said. "I'm sorry for biting you."
The sentence was so absurd Mallory had to laugh.
"Its okay. What's your name? I'm Mal."
The woman cradled her stomach and smiled fondly. "I'm Ariadne. Ariadne Kohl." She gestured to the other French woman.
"That's my daughter, Sofia Kohl."
The second name rang a bell and Mallory's jaw dropped. She exchanged a worried glance with the Soldier before realizing what she had said.
"Kohl? You wouldn't happen to be... Elliot Kohl's wife would you?"
"Yeah. How did you know that? Who are you both?"
Now this complicated things.
A/N: I'm apologizing for two things; one is my absolute bastardization of the Russian language. Apologies Russian readers, but Google Translate was my only friend. And another is the quality of this chapter. I really think it could've been a lot better but I've been so busy with school lately of course the quality is going to slide a bit. Of course, it's readable but I may have to keep editing it.