Frozen

Chapter 2

Note: final edit

Chapter 2

Coming back to the apartment is a surreal experience. The glass is everywhere and the place is cold even though the heater is going on full blast.

The damages go beyond the smashed window; the coffee table, the mantle, and the couch are all broken to splinters too.

Before coming here we went up to his place, and I have to say mine is the less damaged out of both apartments.

We keep the lights off, which makes it difficult to find my purse with my phone in it. It has 10% battery, and a couple of messages from my friends and Sam. I also collect a few of the surviving aromatic candles I have; I would like to take a shower, and those would be useful.

As we walk through the hall, I can see exactly where his shiel collided with the wall. Shield he has strapped to his back right now.

"I wonder if my insurance covers this," I say aloud, mostly to distract myself from the nerves I am feeling to have Steve coming into my room.

Yes, the circumstances couldn't be farther from romance right now, but the fact reminds that there is only so much space in my room for the two of us, and he isn't a petite little thing.

My room is simple: a full bed on the right, a desk, a side table, and a lamp. The build-in closet is right next to the bathroom door. There is a window that goes to the fire escape

Steve steps in behind me and stands there, taking everything in. I get nervous. He is the only guy that had come into my room. When I brought guys home, we stayed in the couch. Bringing them into my bedroom always felt too intimate, too personal. And here we are, Captain America is in here and we haven't been on a date before.

Not that we ever will.

I go to the closet and take out the extra comforter and blankets I have. I turn to take in the strange scene. He has let the shield down next to the desk and is also looking at me.

"Ammm... here." I put the things over the bed. "Please get comfortable, I will take a shower really quick."

I find my pajamas, and escape with a candle to the bathroom.

I look like hell. My hair is tangled and crusty, my face splattered with my own blood, and the clothes are not in any better state. It is close to 2 am now. As I stare at myself in the mirror, the whole situation starts to down on me.

The Winter Soldier is real. He pointed the gun at me when I was five, and now, he did it again and shot me. He took the shot this time. Someone is out there, and they want me dead.

The panic overrides every rational thought. The one and only Captain America is right outside and yet here, in the dark of the bathroom, I feel the fear eating me alive.

I can't cry. I can't scream. I don't want Steve to see me like this. I don't want him to think I can't handle this. That I cannot see this through. I turn on the shower to help mask the sound of my beating heart and my breathing.

I am tough, the Black Widow said so, and I am sure she meant it.

I let the panic curse through me but not drag me with it. It is hard, to stay grounded, I remind myself over and over that I am not alone. Steve is here. I get in the shower, and do the best I can to clean my hair and skin. The water runs red for a while, and I don't stop scrubbing until it is clear again.

When I step out, Steve is sitting at the edge of my bed, his back to the bathroom door, staring at something on my nightstand.

Holy shit, at least I can say I have had Steve Rogers on my bed.