Four
“Finally.”
It had taken nearly a year to finally recover all of the progress that Pierce had undone by wiping the Asset. They had been so close before, and then that blunder happened, setting Sasha’s plans back to square one.
It was almost disgusting, watching the two of them on the camera, how Hydra’s pride and joy curled around her protectively like a German Shepard protecting a fluffy kitten. Once the Asset had finally gotten over his misconstrued ideas that he was the current threat to Dr. Harvey and had bridged that touch barrier, the rest had happened all to easily. She was a bewitching creature, to be sure. Even amongst the cruelty she was subjected to, there was always a glow of hope around her. She was unsullied, pure of heart. It was no mystery to Sasha why those that she had been forced to leave behind cared so deeply and trusted her so much. There was no malice to what she did and her ability to forgive was endless.
Were he a lesser man, even he would have sought to be her savior, just as the Asset had become. In another life, he might even have kept her at his side, rather than locked away. She would have been his trusted companion in this convoluted chess game. But, she was the White King, the key to the so-called Avenger’s undoing, and he was the Black Queen, able to move about and control the flow of power as he pleased.
The attachment was of no true consequence. It would only take one wipe and once again, the infamous Winter Solder would be restored to his factory defaults, as it were, with no memory of her or his weakness for her.
But it still had the taste of annoyance in his mind.
Or was it envy?
With a grunt of frustration, he pushed himself away from the desk where a live feed from her cell played, showing a blonde laughing in the lap of the Asset as she traced the plating on his metal arm. It was high time to finally begin getting what he truly needed from her. Their little honeymoon phase was coming to an end.
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She was alive.
It was the only thing he knew at this point. She was out there somewhere, breathing.
Steve had awoken in the hospital, shaken, broken. Everything hurt in ways that it hadn’t in a long time. He had taken a beating, and he had let Bucky do whatever he needed to. After everything, what Steve would never admit to another soul was that after loosing Ruby, he couldn’t go through losing Bucky all over again. He wasn’t strong enough for that. If Bucky was going to kill him, Steve was going to let him. It would be better that way.
Well, maybe he would have admitted that to Ruby.
Sam had been sitting there, some track by Marvin Gaye playing that Steve didn’t recognize in the plain, modern hospital room. After another private joke, he pulled out his phone, sending off a text that Steve hadn’t been able to read. There was a look in Sam’s eyes that Steve couldn’t place, like he was trying to hold on so desperately to a secret, and a good one at that. But the only explanation Sam offered when Steve looked at him funny was a simple, “He wants to tell you himself.”
Within ten minutes, Tony, clad in a full suit, walked through the door wearing a smug grin and with that same look in his eyes that Sam had.
“Well, it seems that your abilities to destroy buildings crawling with Hydra didn’t just stay in Nazi Germany. But hey, if I know anyone who needs their place obliterated, I’ll send you their way.”
Steve managed a weak smile at that, and almost would have chuckled, if his abdomen didn’t hurt simply at the thought. After all, he had been shot… Twice? Three times? He didn’t even remember at this point.
“So were you just so worried about me that you wanted to see me the moment I woke, or are you gonna finally tell me why both you and Sam look like you’re about to explode? Or even how you two know each other?”
Sam then broke into a full grin, while Tony got oddly sober. Wordlessly, Stark walked around to the others side of Steve’s hospital bed and sat on the plain chair there before reaching into his suit coat to pull out a clear plastic bag with an opened envelop and clump of blonde hair with dried blood on it. Carefully, he set it on the bed for Steve to take before finally, properly answering his question.
“That was sent to Avengers Tower a little over two weeks ago, addressed to you. It wasn’t post-marked and had been hand delivered. I wasn’t going to say anything until I knew what it was just in case it was some crazy fangirl trying to show her love. I had Jarvis running the DNA through every database on the planet, but I couldn’t get a hit until Natasha did me the favor of dumping all of SHIELD’s files out onto the internet.”
He waited, letting Steve have the moment to take in what he was telling him. Steve’s fingers gently traced over the ‘proof’ that Tony had offered, thinly veiled hope and despair mixing together on his face.
“Who. Tell me, Tony. Who is it?”
“You know the answer to that one, Cap.” Stark’s voice became gentle a slight smile forming on his lips. “Ruby Harvey. Jarvis was able to date the DNA too. It was only four days old when it was delivered. Someone wanted you to know she’s still alive.”
For a long while, Steve said nothing. He simply breathed evenly, staring intently at the bag in his hands.
She was alive. After all this time, she was still alive. She was out there somewhere.
‘Hey, no matter what happens, I will keep you safe. I promise.’
His own words from the past had haunted him since her disappearance. It had been his fault for cancelling, his fault for being late. He had promised her she would be safe in this life, that nothing would ever happen to her and that he would make certain of it. It was a promise he had broken. Once again, he had been too late. Too late to keep his promise, too late to keep her safe.
Her absence in his life had been poignant and sharp. All of the sudden, the only person that he found he could completely be himself around was gone. She was the only one that had appreciated his taste in music, and together, they had used the internet to try and finally learn how to swing dance – several nights in his apartment with his record player and the furniture pushed back against the walls had been testaments to that end. Her comfort, her laughter… Her smile. In an instant, it had all been gone, and he had never truly found a way to fill those holes.
And they hurt.
“She’s alive…” Those words barely felt real as he finally said them.
But Tony finished his sentence. “And we’re going to find her Steve. We’re going to bring her home.”
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The scene before him made him smile.
There was genuine fear in her eyes for the first time since she had awoken, fresh, unscarred, and completely unaware of her fate.
He hadn’t wanted to be there while the agents burst in, tearing the two apart. His Russian wasn’t pristine, and he wanted the orders for the Winter Soldier to be barked with precision so that he didn’t even try to resist. However, he would probably watch the replay on his laptop later in his office for his own satisfaction. She would resist, fight it as best she could, but with how little they fed her and how feeble she had become, she wouldn’t put up very much of a fight. But oh, the look in her eyes when she saw her dear ‘Jay’ willingly allow himself to be chained to the wall, wrists above his head and feet apart so that he would be completely immobile as she was locked back into the chair that had been left abandoned for the passing months… Oh, that would be glorious.
“Hello dear, it’s been a while hasn’t it?” Sasha drolled, proudly strolling into the room. “Did you think that I was just going to let you sit here as a guest without requiring something from you sooner or later? Hmm?”
She was silent, of course. That hint of fear was hidden behind the loathing that burned in her eyes, and he smirked. She was still, oh so stubborn after all this time, but there was so much she didn’t know. “Still not talking to me? Shame. I have a friend here who claims that you have a lovely singing voice.”
Footsteps from behind him sounded, but Sasha never turned. He was horribly mangled, and it had taken all of Sasha’s resources to get the man from fried alive to resembling a functional human being again – goodness, the bargains he had had to make with the experimental research department to get his hands on the synthesized serum they had developed from the DNA of a man named Logan to stimulate advanced healing again had been quite ridiculous – but he knew the effect would be quite worth the cost.
“I believe you are familiar with Brock Rumlow, yes?”
Sasha took one step to the side, to let her see the obvious monster that Rumlow had become, but his gaze never left her, relishing in the terror on her face, then the horror at the implications of Rumlow’s presence here.
“Yes, I believe I need to catch you up to speed on some things, don’t I? You’re several months behind on some of the happenings of the world. SHIELD is no more, well, not at least as you know it. Alexander Pierce decided to try and take down Fury, rather than just Captain America, as I had told him to, thanks to the information you so graciously provided. But what your good Captain found was that an entire branch of Hydra was a part of SHIELD. Mr. Rumlow and his friends, for example. So, Captain Rogers saw fit to do away with it all, and well, the Tri-Skeleton is still a mess in the Potomac, and all of SHIELD’s digital files were released onto the internet. Your guard dog here was assigned to that mission, and due to Pierces idiocy and failure to properly account for all possible outcomes, a significant number of my plans were forced to take a few backsteps. But, now we finally are all caught up to where we should be now.”
He sounded less like a smug mastermind, and more like a calculated business man, updating a coworker on the status and developments of a critical business deal, treating the details and lives involved as impersonally as numbers on a page.
Rumlow stepped over, and based on the shudder that ran from her head to her toes, he could only assume that the monster had smiled at her.
Oh, this was going to be too easy.
In two simple steps, Sasha crossed the distance between himself and Dr. Harvey, keeping his gaze on his cuffs while he rolled them up to his elbows – this could get messy, and he wasn’t in the mood to have to replace another, expensive shirt. “Now, this is how this is going to go, darling. You are going to answer my questions, or my friend Rumlow will take it out on your precious Jay. Do you understand? As inconvenient as it would be, I should warn you, that Rumlow has a tendency to take things a bit too far, and there’s a chance that Jay might not survive this, so I would be very quick to answer, if I were you.”
The fear returned to her eyes, and for a moment, Sasha lost himself to them as his thumb traced along the tender line of her jaw almost affectionately. Quietly, he stepped behind her, his hand wandering the contours of her face until they combed her lank locks behind her ear carefully.
“Now… I need you to tell me what haunts each of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes minds, their darkest dreams that keep them from sleeping at night. Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, Thor of Asgard, Bruce Banner, and of course, Steven Rogers. And please remember, time is of the essence…”
And it was only then did he retrieve the slim knife that always was tucked away hidden on his person. He bent over the back of the iron chair and pressed his lips to the other side of her head above her ear so that he could hold her completely still as he pressed the tip of the blade threateningly against the hollow of her neck before whispering, “…for both of your sakes.”
And oh, the screaming.
Glorious.
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Inside, he had writhed, wanting nothing more than to yank the metal cuffs around his wrists and ankles free from the wall, and break every bone in his Master’s body. Internally, he seethed as Sasha pressed his lips over and over to her head in the ways only Jay had ever done. In his mind, he plunged that knife into Sasha’s body, two-fold for every mark he had left on her.
But in reality, he did nothing.
He did nothing every time she screamed. He didn’t fight it as mishappen one called Rumlow beat him with the metal knuckles on his fists or when he sent electric volts coursing through his body. He didn’t even spit as the blood pooled in his mouth. He had orders. Orders were to be followed. He was to do nothing.
And so, he did nothing.
He knew by the sounds, that Sasha was done. She had given him what he wanted, and so there was no need to linger. One by one, the other men left, until the last one freed Jay before leaving and locking the cell door once more.
His knees buckled from the pain once they were finally alone once more, and his metal hand planted on the floor in time to catch his fall. He coughed, the metallic liquid that had only been trickling from the corner of his lips finally spewing across the floor. He knew that he would recover quickly, he had been punished before, and those injuries had healed fully within a day, but he had still been weak and in agony right after. This time was proving to be no different.
He was almost lost in his moment, but the dripping sound of the drain to his left made his head lift sharply to see her slumped body still locked in that damned chair.
“Moya Roza…” His own pain was pushed to the back of his mind, with a more demanding need taking hold of his every thought. His jaw set with concern as he worked to crawl over to her, popping the restraints on the chair open one by one with his metal hand while his trembling, flesh fingers pressed earnestly to her neck to ensure that she did still have a pulse.
Carefully, he pulled her out of the chair, earning a weak moan from her as he shushed her. His arms, metal and flesh curled around her tightly, holding her protectively to his chest as he cradled her in his lap, gently rocking back and forth.
She had talked.
After all he had done to her from when he couldn’t remember, she had only given half an answer. Written in her skin had been a tale of torture that she had endured without cracking, but this time she had talked. And she had talked to save him. His mind was reeling as he tried to comprehend the idea that he could matter so much to someone that she would give up that which she had held most dear to try and save him. He was important. He mattered. She cared.
But there was sinking feeling that came with the realization. She had finally broken. They had finally found her weakness. This strange, hopeful girl who had so fiercely protected those she had left behind had finally given them up… And it made him sad. He was the reason she had broken, why she had betrayed the trust of her friends… He was the price she could not pay.
His lips curled into a frown at the assault of emotions. How could he feel so elated and devastated at the same time? How could he feel so guilty and carefree at once?
A warm wetness pressed against his stomach, drawing him back out of his confusing reverie and into the immediate need of the moment. The drip that had captured his attention once before had come from somewhere, and it couldn’t have been from him.
Gingerly, he pried her away from himself, his jaw setting at the three, messy gashes in her arm. He didn’t have to examine them closely to know just what kind of damage had been done. He had watched them happen individually. He had watched as the blade slowly dug deeper into her arm and how Sasha had twisted the blade to get her to talk. After the third, she had yielded her answers for one called Natasha and the one called Steve willingly. Something about ballerina graduation, and something about a woman named Peggy and a dance… He had been dealing with electric volts surging into his brain and had missed the exact details.
The skills came naturally to his fingers, despite having no memory of ever having used them before as he stitched her wounds carefully with the med kit that had been purposefully left for them, along with warmer clothes, proper blankets, and bottles of water. He used his already stained shirt to clean the rest of her arm before wrapping it carefully with the bandage roll provided.
She was weak, far weaker than he, and it seemed to spur his need to be as gentle as possible all the more. He knew that she would be cold soon, so carefully, he pulled the pair of clothes left for her into his lap, staring at the pair of thick socks atop a folded, matching set of sweats silently for a minute before taking to dressing her.
He had once wondered why she had never asked for amenities such as these, warmer clothes, better blankets… But he had only supposed then that being rewarded with warm things had a price to pay. Now he knew. He had witnessed the price of niceties first hand, and he didn’t blame her for never asking for them.
Hours later found the pair curled tightly together on the bedroll against the far wall, away from the remnants of the earlier events of the day. She had slept on and off during the time, waking in a fright, only to cry until she fell back asleep as he held her. However, now they were both awake, both calm, both able to pretend that all was right with the world in their little haven beneath the protection of the thick blanket.
“Jay?”
“Mm?” His lips pressed against her forehead as his flesh hand lazily traced random patterns across her back.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Her confession left him silent for several moments, and his hand slowly retreated from it’s place on her back. “Roza…”
He leaned far enough away from her to be able to see the sad, haunted expression in her eyes. Couldn’t she see that he was here for her? He would take care of her? No? Maybe not.
His flesh fingers carefully pushed her hair away from her face before trailing down the curve of her jaw to tilt her chin up and try to express himself in a way he never had before. Slowly, he pressed finally his lips against hers. Once… Twice… And three times.
Perhaps now she would understand.
“You won’t ever have to be.”