The ghosts we hide (Winter Soldier x OC)

Fourteen

A sliver hand reaches down to me, palm open.

I glance up, taking in his chin length hair, slick with sweat; his heaving torso; the chiselled chest prominent through his shirt; his warm blue eyes.

Letting out a good natured huff, I grab his palm, allowing him to pull me off the mat with ease.

"You're going to need to be quicker than that." The Winter Soldier smirks, stepping away and into a fighting stance once more.

"Bring it."

My voice is higher than usual, light with youth. I sink into my own ready position, feet shoulder width apart, one slightly further back.

"Come on then kid." He beckons, a small smile tugging at his lips as he gestures with the tips of his fingers.

I let out a playful growl at his use of 'kid', lunging forward at lightning speed. I aim a punch to the head but he dodges to the side, jabbing me in the ribs. It's enough to sting, but leaves no lasting damage.

I spin around to face him, breathing elevated. Almost immediately I charge again, this time aiming for his armpit. Before I can grab him though, my legs are swept out from under me. I land on the training room floor in a heap, the breath knocked out of me in the process.

I hear chuckling from somewhere above my head as I lie in my back, trying to successfully inhale oxygen.

"Stop rushing and start analysing your opponent's movements." Bucky says, watching with light eyes as I finally scramble to my feet.

I slip into my fighting stance once more, mirroring his. We inch closer together, taking tentative, measured steps. Instead of rushing at him again, I scan his muscular figure, trying to ascertain where he's going to strike first.

We circle each other for a few minutes, the training room completely silent aside from our feet on the mat.

Suddenly he lunges forwards, a fist flying towards my face. Having seen him step before he swung, I manage to dive to the side, countering with a punch to the stomach. His eyes shine with mirth as he reels back before striking again, this time connecting with my side.

I let out an oomph and he laughs, much to my annoyance. I swing a leg out, hitting him square in the flesh of his gut. He doubles over and it's my turn to smile.

He leaps forwards again and we engage in a weird sort of dance, ducking and weaving in front of each other. We both give as much as we take, an intriguing dynamic forming between us.

His eyes find mine, blue depths shining with humour, mirroring mine.

I duck under his fist, aiming my own at his head. It misses and he takes the opportunity to grab my wrist, twisting it painfully behind me.

I send a kick to his knee, forcing him to buckle and release me.

When I turn to face him, something has changed.

I meet his eyes which bore into mine. But the humour is now gone, shifting into blank blue pools. It's as if he's a different person, like his eyes belong to someone else.

"Sir?"

He lunges for me then, arms outstretched like some sort of silent demon. I duck, barely escaping.

But in a second he turns, reaching out with a callous metal hand. Inhuman fingers tangle in my hair, yanking me backwards into a solid chest as my scalp stings under the strain. I tug desperately at his wrist, but his grip remains firm.

Thinking fast, I send my elbow backwards. It connects with his throat, forcing him to stumble backwards.

As soon as my head is free I dart forwards, eager to put distance between myself and the man before he can recover. I turn around and watch as he holds his neck, chest heaving as his body refuses to breathe.