she takes the offered glass of water and sips it in between the draw
and release of her sigh. ‘stay here’ sounds so easy when he says it.
’i’ll figure something out.’ but she knows every minute here is another
that her former employers are seeking her out. being here puts him at
risk.
and she knows—there are few people better equipped to protect someone
than captain america. but where steve has limits imposed by his own
morality, her pursuers do not. they do not have to defeat steve’s brawn
to harm him.
’ the other carlsbad. new mexico. they raided my safehouse
in denver, picked me up there. best guess is they were looking
to cross the border and extract me from there.
it’s easier to smuggle someone onto an intercontinental flight when
the crew and police already corrupted.
she swallows against a sandpaper raw throat, eyebrows furrowing as
she pulls away.
’ it’s just a black eye. it’s not—
not the worst. not the part of her that could most use medical attention.
but even as she shifts away from the back of the couch, her shirt pulls
and catches on her wounds. she may not need to worry about infection,
but grime is still not conducive to the healing process.
she leans forward tenderly, twisting at the waist to bare her back to him
as she crosses her arms to pull the cotton of her shirt up and over her
head.
a glance down shows that the purple of her bruising is in full blossom
now, her ribs a nebula of black and dark blue. she can’t crane her neck
to see anything but the lashes on the top of her shoulders, angry in their
welts and scabbed where the skin had actually broken through.
she closes her eyes, turns her face away from him and into the cushion.
the words carry rusted manacles as she drags them from her gut.
‘i couldn’t reach to dress them all.
A glimmer of what could be described as embarrassment flashed across the good
Captain’s features at the correction, as if he was supposed to know the difference
when she has been without contact since Washington. He had understood why she
needed to disappear, why now she chose to break her silence. His own ego was set
aside as she explained how her pursuers had found her, captured her. He could feel
it burning in his chest, filling with the ugliness of hate as he forced his gaze from her
out of necessity. She got away, Steve. She was sitting in front of you, worse for wear
but she’s alive. Hold onto that. Cobalt hues drifted back to the Russian as the lump in
his throat was swallowed and his resolve returned. He was going to fix this.
Then she showed him, the angry destruction that littered her lily white flesh with torn
ribbons, black abrasions and he had to look away. Both out of her modesty and out of
the continued smolder of rage that stoked in his belly, threatening to reach out for the
familiar weight of his shield and seek out the bastards responsible for such damage.
She wasn’t just another operative, she was so much more than that. That was when
the soldier reached out to her, pulling at her shirt to get a better look at the wounds
that laid beneath untreated and festering. No, his anger would have to wait.
He turned his body only slightly so that he might reach into the kit for the materials
necessary to cleanse her wounds, his hand shifting away from the hem of her top
before he finally found his voice, rasped as if he’d been gargling nails in silence.
‘ I’m going to need to remove your shirt, Natasha.
He didn’t dare proceed without her permission, but he prepared the antiseptic, the
bandages resting in his lap when he was ready for them. Before continuing, Steve
steadily reached out for her. Calloused hand seeking the smaller palm of her hand,
a thumb brushing over the back of it as his gaze lingered at the back of her, staring
at crimson locks before his gaze fell away as his own found the hem of her shirt.
Not until she agreed.
