Flashback
Flashback
“Do you look them in the eyes when you kill them?” She spat out, her voice a mixture of anger and fear, while his weight was holding her down. He pushed harder as he gripped her right leg and pulled it away from his face. His touch was firm but now she was used to the harsh grip of his hands.
“Answer me,” she demanded, her voice breaking slightly. Her left leg swung up, hitting him right in the centre of his back. The sudden impact caused him to lose balance and he fell on top of her. His body was a solid wall against hers, the heat of him seeping into her, making her all too aware of the close proximity.
His eyes locked onto hers, intense and almost piercing. “Yes, I do look at them in the eyes. And guess what? I don’t give it a single thought.” There was a raw honesty in his voice that surprised her. But his gaze held something else, something that sent a shiver down her spine, an inexplicable intensity that she couldn’t ignore. She knew he wasn’t entirely himself, but sometimes it felt like he was more human on some days than others. Those were the days she could say she almost had fun, considering the situation they were in. But on other days, when the only thing left in him was The Winter Soldier, she wished she had the strength to put a knife in his chest. This was both because of the blood trail he would leave and because that blood would stick on his hands, destroying him with guilt when he eventually realized what he had done.
As she escaped his grip standing up he managed to hold on to her ankle, his fingers digging into her skin as he brought her back down on the ground. But before he could move, both of her legs were around his neck, cutting off his air supply.
“You smell like blood,” she spat as his metal arm found an opening in her grip. With a swift movement, he pushed her away and got on top, pinning both her wrists with one hand and bringing the metal arm to her neck. His touch was threatening, but after so many months of doing this circus every time, there was a strange kind of intimacy in the way his body pressed against hers, taking away the air she had stolen from him before.
“Are you flirting or fighting?” he asked her, watching as her eyes got red and her skin paler. There was a teasing note in his voice.
“You wish,” she retorted, gasping for air.
“Tap out” He commanded her but she refused, trying to escape his grip. His hands tightened, his fingers digging into her skin. But even in that painful grip, she could feel the warmth of his touch, a heat that sent a rush of adrenaline through her veins. But that was all it was, adrenaline, she said to herself.
“Tap out,” he repeated, his voice a low growl. Ready to tighten his grip even more, he saw her hand tapping the floor, and he released. His face was inches away from hers, his breath fanning her face.
“Good girl,” he said, a hint of admiration in his tone.
Zemo stormed into the ring, pulling her up from the floor and checking her head for any serious injuries. She was panting, her body aching from the fight, but she always felt a strange satisfaction.
“I’m fine. Get off of me,” she said, pushing Zemo away.
And he watched her, his gaze following her as she got out of what you could barely call a gym, more like a fighting cage.
As the clock hit 2 am, he opened the door of his room and ran quietly to the left-wing stairs. He had about 3 minutes before the other guard took the place of the new shift. As he climbed up the stairs, he saw the new man approaching the spot two floors down.
He opened the door, trying to be as quiet as he could, it’s winter in Siberia and the doors are always frozen.
As he approached the edge of the roof where she was sitting, facing the endless ocean of snow.
“How’s your neck?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.
“Better than last time,” she replied.
“Saying I’m losing my touch?” he said with a bit of sarcasm as he took a seat next to her. He could feel the wall she had built around herself, keeping him at a distance.
“I’ll ask the family of six you’ve killed,” she retorted, her words biting and cold. They served as a reminder of the monster he had become, and the lives he had taken without a second thought. They reminded him that the moments when he could be almost human with her were fleeting. They were a reminder of his failed attempts to escape this prison and the brainwashing that required only ten words to trigger.
She didn’t look at him. She didn’t want to. And he didn’t want her to. He knew what he was, a monster. He had become someone he couldn’t recognize, a killer molded by the hands of HYDRA. As much as the time he spent with her made him forget sometimes, he was painfully aware of the blood on his hands.
“I can’t help it,” he confessed softly. His voice was filled with regret and pain.
“Does it hurt? Do you feel pain?” she asked, still not looking at him. Her words were a dagger to his heart.
“No,” he lied, but the pain in his eyes told a different story. He was a man torn between the man he used to be and the monster he had become.
She finally turned her head slowly in his direction, but her eyes fell on her lap. She couldn’t bear to look at him.
“I could have easily murdered you without hesitation that day when I found you…” His words hung in the air.
“Not that easily,” she interrupted him. There was a touch of sarcasm in her voice.
“…but I didn’t,” he confessed, the admission holding a world of meaning. He had spared her, he managed to choose not to kill her when it was all he knew, all he was ordered.
“Why?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper. It was a question she had asked herself a thousand times, and now she was asking him.
“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice filled with confusion and regret. He didn’t understand why he had spared her. It was a question he couldn’t answer, a mystery he couldn’t solve. Perhaps it was luck that led them to meet when his mind was fracturing under the weight of HYDRA’s commands.
Her eyes were now on him, her gaze intense and searching. She had moved closer, close enough to touch him. Her hand found his, a gentle touch in a world filled with pain. He didn’t like to be touched. But his hands didn’t move, he allowed her this small comfort.
“You should be terrified of me,” he warned, his voice filled with self-loathing.
“I am,” she confessed, her voice barely more than a whisper. But her eyes told a different story. Despite the fear, there was also understanding, compassion, and maybe even a glimmer of hope. They were both broken, both haunted by their pasts. But in this moment, they had each other, two broken souls in a world filled with pain.
Present day
It was 3 am and he still hadn’t closed his eyes. He wasn’t even trying to lay on his bed. He needed to remember. Why couldn’t he remember everything?
The only thing that kept showing up in his memories was that day. And he knew why. Because that was the last time he saw her.
The next day he left for a short mission, two days, but when he came back she wasn’t there. He waited for her in the gym for hours. She never came.
Those few hours of training every day were the only thing keeping him at least an inch in contact with himself, with Bucky Barnes.
And he realized too late that it wasn’t the training. It was her. She kept him anchored to himself.
Her words, even the hurtful ones, were showing him the reality of his actions during his missions.
Her eyes, kept him alive while he was in hell, while he was turning into the devil.
And she was gone, without a word.
After that, after her, it was just darkness.