Timeless

Deleted Scene: Fall 1945, Hausmann's Hauntings

Summary:

Alternatively, the one where Thunder's Lullaby ties in with this particular anniversary. In fact, for Kathryn Egan-Cleven, she hadn't even realized that it was the actual anniversary of the events in Germany on the front lines. A whole year since losing her friends. A whole year since things had gone drastically wrong and sent her down a whole other road than the one she originally intended for herself. And now she has to deal with the aftermath of it all.

Notes:

A/N: Just wanted to give a short update on my surgery! It went well and I'm in recovery, though I'm in intense amounts of pain and that's been rough. That being said, I wanted to give you a small angsty thing today rather than tomorrow. Trigger warnings apply for this chapter and viewer discretion is advised!

Chapter Text

The day prior to it all, the skies had been angry. Kathryn had known that a storm was brewing the entire day. She knew it in the way that the wind carried a slight heat to it and in the way that skies were a violent shade of bruise. She knew it in the way that Meatball growled every time she took him outside.

But the storm had nothing on that evening and the memories that had accompanied her. Memories that came flashing back like lightning in the summer storm that was raging outside. Memories that slapped her in the face like the very wind in a hurricane. She felt the memories viscerally, the way that Hausmann had forced himself inside of her walls and things had torn and hurt and she had bled .

Kathryn had tried to fight off the darkness. Tried to find the eye of the hurricane, tried to find solace in all of it. And for a little while, it had worked. She had stepped outside and Gale had found her. And they had gone storm-chasing and racing like she and Bucky had when they were just kids. The rain and the laughter and the adrenaline had done its part in pushing back the storm.

But the minute that she had gone in the house and started to clean herself up, Kathryn couldn't help it. The mirror that she was staring at seemed to hold a thousand lifetimes' worth of pain and grief and tears. And starting it all was the scars that marred her body.

Her body, which she was certain was never going to recover. Not ever truly.

She wished she could find something to be grateful for when it came to her body, but Kathryn was frustrated . Her body was the body of a woman, yes. But a woman who would likely not have children—and that was still a far off conversation for her and Gale that made her sick to even think of it.

Her chest was covered in cigarette burns and other slashes from the Stalags. It had provided no relief or function within that place, other than to be a reminder that she should not have been there. She was a woman and her breasts were symbols of the feminine—and that was the exact reason why they had slashed one of them. It made her rage and bubble under the surface, as though she had been left on the stove for too long and wanted to spill over into the cracks of the surface.

But she didn't do that.

Her hips did have a function, though they were related to childbirth. And given the cigarette burns on her hips, Kathryn wondered if the cigarette burns would linger if she ever gained stretch-marks. And, God , her stomach. It was an emaciated and angry thing that rarely cooperated with her these days.

There was the fact that her entire reproductive system had been ravaged by unsanitary equipment and the pain still lingered. She hadn't ever told anyone about that. About the burning that sometimes appeared between her legs as a painful reminder of what she had suffered and survived.

Then there were her feet. And truth be told, they might be the one thing that Kathryn was grateful for. Her feet had carried her barefoot through the forest as she tried to locate the Allies. Her feet had endured mismatched shoes and lack of socks in the winter and carried her through death marches in the dead of winter. Her feet had carried her all the way to safety without ever really stopping.

But oh, the ache between her legs and that she felt in her pelvis was all too real at the moment. Kathryn had heard of it—of trauma associated pain. That when the anniversary of something came up, people tended to feel similar responses. It was a literal physical response to what she had suffered.

She couldn't help that she sank onto the floor of the bathroom, fists clenched so tightly that she thought her fingernails would leave scars on her palms. Her legs smashed against one another, as if trying to keep the wolf of memory at bay.

No words escaped her throat. She just sat there on the floor, trying to weave herself back to reality. Pulling and tugging on the rope that tied her to Gale, who was just in the other room.

But nothing happened.

She remembered every thrust. Every single time that Hausmann had collided against her in a fury of violence and fury. And how every single time made her want to just lay down and die. But she didn't have a choice. She remembered how her nails felt as they raked across his skin and the way that the scalpel would always hold an invisible weight in her hand.

"Kath?"

Silence was his response and when Gale tilted the door open, he found Kathryn just sitting on the floor. It was as though the rain from outside had done its best to cleanse her and now she was just sitting in the hurt and the grief of the memory she had mentioned.

As if sensing this in her form, in the way her shoulders were tensed and her eyes were locked onto the blank expanse of wall in front of her, Gale said nothing else. He just sank slowly against the counter until he was sitting on the ground next to Kathryn. Her hair was still regaining its color and it hung in front of her face, droplets of water still soaking into her pajamas.

"Sometimes...." Kathryn started, voice sounding hoarse. "We'll be walking or at the store or in public...and I can't help but search the crowds for him."

The revelation startled Gale, whose eyes went wide at her words. "What?"

"I feel like he's always watching me. Just waiting to..." Kathryn trailed off, hands curling up into fists again. "I can't help it. I'm searching every single crowd of people to find him in it. So that he can be stopped. And I don't have to be like a damned animal cowering in fear."

Gale hadn't known. Hadn't known that his wife clung to him in public for this very reason. Had an apprehension for this very reason. "Oh Kath," he murmured in a gentle tone, hand slipping out and flattening out some of her hair.

She didn't flinch at the gesture. She merely relaxed into his grasp, letting out a sigh as she curled into his shoulder. "Do you think—" She broke off, as if trying to formulate the words. "Do you think I'm ever going to feel safe?"

"Yes," Gale replied without hesitation. His eyes held no sign of lying or deceit. Just nothing but honest and raw truth in them. Kathryn was grateful, because those beautiful eyes still held endless amounts of adoration in them. "One day, this is all just gonna be a memory to you and it's gonna be better."

"Not today though," Kathryn murmured quietly. "I can—I can still feel. What he did to me. Inside . It hurts so bad that I can't breathe sometimes."

"Oh darlin'," Gale breathed out. "I didn't—I didn't know, I—"

"I didn't tell you," Kathryn said, voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't tell anyone. Sometimes it's just easier for me that way."

"You're not there anymore. You don't have to do it alone. In sickness and in health, right sweetheart?" Gale murmured, extending his hand to her.

"In sickness and in health," Kathryn agreed softly. And maybe, just maybe—with Gale's love—she could get through the next day.