Distressed // Steve Rogers

6 - Out of Ice

Her back ached from hours without rest and her feet were torn and bleeding.

"Again Talia," he barked from the corner as she performed another Grande Jeté, her ankle twisting as she landed. "You are sloppy Talia. Unfocussed. Again."

Within the blink of an eye the room shifted. Targets lined up before her. No. People lined up before her. The weight of the gun in her hand was familiar, it was welcomed.

"Do not fail us. Complete your mission. Destroy the soldier."

She took her aim. She fired.

Another shift.

Natasha. Natasha was lying on the table, gown open, surgical equipment laid out beside her.

"You don't have to Nat," she pleaded.

"I'll be okay Munch. This is part of the process: eliminating the potential for weakness. I'll be okay." Natasha stared blankly ahead, her eyes cold and empty.

Talia felt the pull of the next memory, the force of his punch, the grip of his hand against her throat.

"Do not fail us. Complete your mission. Destroy the soldier."

She felt every cut and slice of her bare feet as she ran through the forest, the sting of the icy air as she fled. She felt the pull and she screamed into the darkness. She felt every lash of the whip, every searing burn that had been inflicted upon her and she cried. She cried for it to end.

Talia's whimpers ripped Steve from his sleep. He glanced at the clock. It was just gone two in the morning. Looking through the darkness he saw her tossing and turning, writhing in both pain and fear. Her cries became sobs and screams as she spoke aloud.

"Please. Make it stop. No! Please. I'm sorry. Make it stop, please make it stop!"

"What?" It took a moment for Steve to register that she was dreaming. "Oh damn it!" He ran to her side and crouched beside the bed, trying to shake her from the nightmare that gripped her. "Hey - hey - look at me. Talia? Wake up."

Her eyes snapped open as she shivered under his touch. She searched the room around her, terror clear on her face as tiny beads of sweat formed on her forehead. She could hear him there, she wanted to see him, but her mind was possessed by the images she so desperately wished she could forget.

Her fingers clawed at his t-shirt as she clung to him and he pulled her closer into an embrace as she begged for it to stop, for it all to just go away.

"Damn it." He cursed under his breath before lifting her from the bed. "FRIDAY, wake Nat. Tell her we need her. Now."

Talia was shaking violently as her eyes darted around the room and Steve held her tightly against his chest as he carried her to the bathroom.

"Come on Runaway. I'm going to try something, just trust me. Can you do that?"

She could not answer but buried her head in his neck, desperately trying to block out the images that scratched at her mind, and Steve knew she was accepting his help. Talia tried to focus on the sound of his voice, still thick with sleep, as he tried to soothe her. She felt him reach for something and suddenly ice cold water rained down on them as he lowered her onto the cold tiles of the shower and sat close beside her.

The weight that had crushed her from the inside out seemed to lift from her chest as her body began to fight the freezing temperature instead of itself. She closed her eyes as her breathing became easier, lighter, and her heart stopped pounding behind her ears. As the deepest exhaustion settled over her, almost comforting in its familiarity, she instinctively rested her head on Steve's arm. He watched as she slowly woke from the terror that had consumed her and waited. Her skin was pale and she looked exhausted and Steve felt a tug in his chest, a desire to make sure she was okay, to protect her, that he hadn't anticipated.