The ghosts we hide (Winter Soldier x OC)

Twenty seven

I stare around the room, slightly awestruck.

The last time I saw it, the space was in tatters; gym equipment tipped over and training mat ripped up. But instead of dents and claw marks, the room gleams as if it's brand new.

In some ways it is, I guess.

My mind is foggy with fatigue, yet that boundless electricity still bounces through my veins. It's a good thing running on a treadmill doesn't require much brain power.

I cross the room swiftly, making a beeline for the machines at the back. Guilt settles in my stomach as I scan the high-tech dashboard. I don't doubt these are expensive and I ruined five of them, as well as the rest of the room.

It takes me a minute to work out how to get the running machine to move, unused to the controls. Once I do, I set it to a brisk pace that I'm just able to walk to, figuring it's better to warm up my muscles first. I take the opportunity to follow some of Peter's advice and open Spotify on my phone. I stare at the search bar for a moment before disregarding it, no clue what to search. Instead I click on a genre at random and place the phone in the cup holder.

Upbeat music starts to spill from the shiny rectangle, a man's voice echoing around the room. Listening half heartedly, I spend a few more minutes walking before pushing the speed up to a fast jog. My breathing increases slightly as I get used to the new pace, my limbs moving fluidly beneath me.

I soon forget about the music, focusing instead on my slightly raised heartbeat, enjoying the feeling of energy pulsing through my muscles. Endorphins flow freely, dulling my emotions and quietening my thoughts. I've always loved running, though it's probably something to do with my enhancement. Along with the obvious, I have heightened stamina and speed, meaning I can run for hours - quite literally.

I've noticed my senses and strength increase just before I change, but I can't seem to access those abilities at any other time.

By the one hour mark, sweat drips down between my shoulder blades and my breathes come in shorter gasps, yet that electricity still crackles in my neurones. Swiping a hand across my damp forehead, I punch the speed up until I'm forced to sprint to keep pace.

My heart hammers in my chest now, desperately trying to keep up with my body's demand for oxygenated blood. My lungs heave too, breathes ragged and slightly painful. Despite this, a grin spreads across my face.

I focus hard on pumping my legs, giving every ounce of effort I've got to continue at the high speed for a few minutes longer. The small screen on the treadmill flashes five minutes when I hear the door open behind me. Voices echo around the room, mingling with that of the previously forgotten music.

The presence of people behind me snaps me out of my little trance, suddenly feeling self conscious. I quickly reduce the speed until I'm barely walking before glancing over my shoulder.

"Hey Nyx." Nat calls as she struts in. I send her a hesitant smile as my gaze slips past her to Steve, who follows her in. And behind him stands Bucky.

I spin back around so that I'm facing forwards again, my already hammering heart somehow picking up its pace. I haven't spoken to him since the other night and his presence is still mildly unsettling.

"I didn't know you liked Arctic Monkeys."

I look up to see Natasha leaning against the running machine, my mind too distracted by thoughts to notice her approach. My sweating brow furrows in confusion at her words.

"Arctic Monkeys? That's who sings the song you're listening to." She laughs as my quizzical expression clears.

"I clicked on something random." I shrug, finally focusing on the music playing. "I zoned out about fifty minutes ago."