Saving Steve (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Chapter 27 - I'm Sorry

Stunned, you're frozen as the echo of Bucky's footsteps down the hall fade away, leaving you alone with the silence and the dust. 

Peggy? Who's Peggy?

Your hand, still covered in your own dried blood, reaches for the tags beneath the trench coat you now wear in place of your bloodied shirt, crumpled and discarded on the floor near the desk. Feeling the tags' weight around your neck, you're reminded of just how defenseless the two of you left Steve back at the safehouse. 

"I'm going to find Steve. He should have been here by now."

Frenzied thoughts begin tumbling around your head like marbles loosed from their jar, bumping into one another and rattling around noisily as your heart starts to race and you remember how outnumbered Steve had been.

Visions of agents pouring through the safehouse door, memories of Steve desperately swatting them away, taking them out as one by one they were seemingly replaced by yet another agent behind them. 

Two more appearing for every agent he incapacitated.

Tears sting your eyes as you try to quiet the gunshot from the bookshop that echoes in your memory. 

Shaking your head and rubbing your temples, you focus on your breathing. Four counts in. Four counts hold. Four counts out. Rest. 

Slowing yourself down, you clear your thoughts, determined not to let them overtake you. Once your breathing returns to normal, a sense of clarity returns and you take in your surroundings, grounding in the scent and sight. 

The old office. The air stale and heavy.

Quiet and concealed. But alone. 

Hunted by Ross and his men. 

You glance towards the door, your nervous energy making you angsty and restless. You're tempted to ignore Bucky's order and wander the theater, but the weight of Bucky's knife in your pocket anchors you to the ground. You choose instead to investigate the standing lamp in the corner near the coat rack. Flipping the switch, you're not surprised you get no light. There's likely no electricity to the building. 

Glancing towards the window, the setting twilight sky signals that it won't be long before you're left in complete darkness. Might as well get comfortable before that happens. 

You move to the tattered sofa pushed up against the far wall and lay flat on your back, ignoring the acrid smell of the deteriorating  brown velveteen as your eyes wander. They follow the lines and crevices of the chipped, yet still regal fleur-de-lis ceiling tiles until the sun sets and you can no longer distinguish the tiles from shadows. 

A silent hour or two passes when your ears prick up. 

There are hushed voices from somewhere nearby.

But they're frantic. 

Angry, disturbed whispers bordering on cries are traded between two men. As they grow louder, footsteps follow. Moving quickly. Unevenly. Nearly running down the hallway outside the office door.

Rolling from the sofa, you back up and crouch into the darkness as you can hear them coming closer, the whispers growing louder.

"It wasn't your fault!"

You gasp as that familiar voice rolls over you like a warm and weighted blanket. 

"I ripped him in half, Steve I...I don't even remember doing it!"

"Calm down, Buck."

The office door flies open and in the darkness two shadowy figures come stumbling into the room, holding onto the other for support. Although neither seem to actually be injured. You take a hesitant step forward as the taller leads the shorter to the sofa you had just occupied.