Gold to Airy Thinness Beat

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Stephanie woke up.

Her head hurt and her right eye and nose throbbed in a way that suggested she was probably sporting one hell of a black eye.

She could hear voices and stayed quiet, pretending she was still out. She was slumped against a thin metal wall through which she could feel the vibration of an engine while the floor rocked under her suggesting she was in a vehicle moving along an uneven road.

Her arms were shackled in front of her, the metal thicker than normal cuffs, which was a waste as she doubted she currently had the energy to break a standard set.

She struggled to think. Her mind was muddled and she felt nauseous. Her body ached as if she were suffering a bad case of the flu and she resisted the urge to try and massage her legs in a futile attempt to relieve some of the pain. Her left shoulder also hurt, a burning pain that sent sharp bursts through her when she made even the slightest movement.

She could feel a mask over her face, the edges digging into her cheeks and under her jaw, dried sweat and grime causing it to chafe uncomfortably against her skin. She was wearing what felt like a leather costume of some kind along with tight boots that pinched her calves and feet.

Metal, she remembered suddenly. Her left arm was metal now, which made no sense as she was positive she could feel pain in her actual shoulder and even her upper arm.

More memories sluggishly returned, images floating hazily through her mind, panicked voices, people shouting, the acrid smell of gunpowder...Bucky.

She resisted the urge to suck in a sharp breath as an image of her pulling a gun on him and firing sprang to life inside her head.

Had that really happened?

The last clear image she had was of Schmidt forcing her into that chair and insisting he would make her attack her loved ones.

She hadn't believed it.

It couldn't be true, could it?

There didn't exist a world where she could hurt Bucky.

There just...didn't.

She focused on the memory again and realized Bucky looked awful in it, thinner and pale with deep shadows under his eyes and a haunted look in his eyes.

He blamed himself for her falling. Of course he did, her darling boy. It would never occur to him that she'd considered it an honor, or that he'd been more than worth it. Even now, knowing what came after she fell, she'd have made the same choice.

She would always make the same choice.

In the memory, hazy and dim, the look Bucky leveled on her was unfamiliar, and cold.

He'd had no idea who she was.

Another voice spoke in her head and the memory of a hand scrabbling at her face drifted through her mind.

Howard.

Had she really tried to hurt Howard?

Ice settled in her veins. Her memories were still so muddled. Was Howard all right? Had she hurt anyone?

Had she hurt Bucky?

"Damn, what a waste," a male voice, very near her, said.

Taking a chance, Stephanie opened her eyes to just barely a slit. She was seated on the floor at the far end of a military truck. Benches ran along both sides with men in Hydra uniforms sitting on them. The benches ended before the wall and the man who'd spoken to her was at the very end of the bench on her left, his leg and knee a mere foot away from her.