Distressed // Steve Rogers

13 - A Damsel Distressed

Talia was the first to leave, rushing out of the small room, past the judgemental, watchful eyes of Stark and Barnes and towards the safety of Steve's room. As she pushed her way out she could sense him behind her, following after her, and she picked up her pace.

"Talia, wait." His hand wrapped around the crook of her elbow, pulling her to a stop in the dimly lit corridor and fire ignited in her chest.

"Not now Ice-Pop."

"Come on, you're being honest remember. You can't just shut down on me now." Steve's grip tightened as she tried to pull away. When she finally looked up at him the flicker of pain and fear was pushed down, muted and silenced, and in its place was perfectly formed crystallised contempt and anger. She had been too weak here already: allowed Steve Rogers to pull down her defences and slip through her barriers too quickly, too easily. She had allowed herself to believe that maybe she could be something other than the screw up, the runaway, the failure because when she looked at him she wanted to be more than those things. And within minutes Tony Stark had shattered that. Destroyed it. He had reminded her of who she was, who she had always been: the girl who will do anything to survive. She would not let the soft sky blue of Captain America's eyes, or the featherlike touch of his fingers, distract her from that again.

"Let go of me now Rogers. I won't ask twice." She yanked her arm from his grip and walked away quickly, her head held high for them all to see, while inside she broke. She had escaped nothing.

"Still so sure she's not a threat Capsicle?" Tony stood behind Steve, placing a hand on his shoulder, and watched her walk away with a smug self-satisfaction that bristled and brushed the air while the team started to break away for a restless night of preparation.

"Just back off Stark." Steve fumed, shrugging his hand off before going after her. "I mean it."

"Was that a threat Cap?" Tony shouted down the corridor. Bucky stood in the darkness behind him, watching Steve as he came to a slow stop and turned to face Stark. Steve's face was hard, set in its frustration and his jaw clenched ever so subtly as his eyes ran over Stark where he stood.

"Not yet."

*

When he stepped into the darkness of the room he could hear her slamming around in the bathroom. Pausing by the door, his hand hovered over the handle as he contemplated going in, he took a moment to consider what he would say. He wanted to be there for her, to support her, make her feel less... afraid. And yet, he felt lost, untethered and unsure of how to proceed.

"Talia?" He placed his hands on either side of the door frame and leaned into the door, his head down and his shoulders slumped. "What can I do?"

The door swung open and Talia stood, toothbrush in hand, staring up at him - just inches from him. He hadn't expected her to open the door, let alone be standing close enough to him that he could feel the warmth radiating off of her skin. He studied her eyes; the flicker of annoyance, the burn of fear... There was something else there as she looked up at him, something hidden in the depths of everything else something he couldn't quite name as she turned away from him and stalked back into the bathroom.

"You can give me some god-damn space, Steve." She fumed.

"I'll give you space, if that's what you really want? Or, and hear me out here," Steve leaned against the counter beside her as she put her toothbrush away and began to organise the dressings beside the sink. He gently took the fresh dressing pad from her hands and raised his eyebrows at her as he spoke. "You could accept that I'm your friend and you could tell me how you're feeling so I can help? Now, lift the t-shirt so I can sort this please."