Distressed // Steve Rogers

12 - Blame

The corridors were empty and each foot fall echoed across the vast open space. Bucky stepped ahead of her, his pistol in his hand as his head whipped from side to side, clearing corridors and motioning for her to follow with each safe passage uncovered. She crept along behind him, grateful to not be alone as they walked the halls she had only seen once or twice before. The hair on the back of her neck raised as a cold breeze whispered against her skin and the drip of a leak bounced from the walls and through her mind. The smell of days of damp and darkness clung to her nose, rolling her stomach as she followed Bucky down another winding corridor and her heart hammered. Slowly he raised his finger to his earpiece.

"It's quiet in here guys. Too quiet." He felt her hand on his shoulder and glanced back to her. Her eyes were narrowed and determined as she jutted her chin towards the darkest of the paths open to them and he nodded tightly. "You might want to join us in here Steve."

She moved forwards carefully, slowly, and held her own weapon tight in her grip as her eyes searched the darkness stretching out before them. The stillness of the air unsettled her and each flicker of her eyes brought new shapes and figures into her mind. She knew they were here somewhere, she could feel it in her bones, she just didn't know where.

Rounding another corner Talia placed her pistol in the small thigh holster she wore and tapped the small buttons on the base of her wrist. The glow of red charging through the spider bites comforted her and the buzz of electricity was matched with something else - something sinister.

His footsteps were slow and calm. They were even and they screamed of confidence. As he sauntered out of the darkness his eyes roamed over her body, tracing the way her suit clung to her hips and accentuated her waist. He took his time looking over her as she stood frozen in the corridor, The Winter Soldier behind her; his weapon aimed. His eyes lingered on her face, taking in the wide, fearful eyes and the lack of obstruction. He had never seen her hair tied back before.

"If it isn't The Winter Widow," her handler crooned as he opened his arms wide, expectant and waiting. "And she brings us The Winter Soldier."

He took another step towards her and she flinched.

"Oh, so it's like that is it Beautiful?" His voice was acidic and burning.

Her hands shook as she lowered her aim, the red charge surging and throbbing as she waited to strike and her voice grew cold, spiteful.

"I am not your Winter Widow," she spat. "I am Talia Romanoff. I am a sister, and a friend. I am an Avenger. I am loved. I am not what you tried to make me."

The man smiled so sweetly that Bucky felt sick. It was as if he knew she would find hope in following them home that night; like he knew she would be given a piece of herself again and his pleasure was found in tearing it from her once again. Bucky itched to pull the trigger; to end this for her, but he knew too well the need to be in control. Here and now Talia needed to control the situation, and he would let her.

"I know you believe that Widow." The handler shrugged as he stepped towards her again, his voice low and seductive, a mere whisper that hung in the silence between them. "But you also know, deep down, that I know how to change all of that."

Another step. Bucky's finger brushed against the trigger.

"Complete your mission Winter Widow."

Her eyes filled with tears as she shook her head. She knew what would come next. She knew she would be given the answer she sought next.

"No," she whispered, her voice breaking with her tears, "I won't."

"Then I will make you." He clicked his neck as he rooted himself to the ground, watching her tremble before him. The way she shook, like a frightened fay trapped in his little jar, was fascinating. He licked his lips as he grinned at her and smirked at Bucky. This would not end well for one of the men in this room.