Honesty ♧ Bucky Barnes

Blood On The Dancefloor

This

is

all

angst

and im sorry about that.

Sleep didn't come very easy to Erin that night. It may have been something to do with the fact that her left arm was throbbing a steady beat of pain, shooting streaks of agony from her elbow to her shoulder. It was more likely to do with the fact that tonight was the night. Tonight was that night that Goodwinson was going to get her out of there.

At least, she hoped it was. With no clocks or timepieces in her holding cell, she had no idea what time it was. For all she knew, it had already gone midnight and James had changed his mind and decided not to help her after all.

She sighed and closed her eyes, re-adjusting her position on the mattress and wincing slightly as the movement caused her arm to jerk, shooting another dagger of pain up her shoulder. She had to stop thinking so pessimistically. Goodwinson would arrive soon and she would be out of there. She wondered what would happen to the guards who were supposed to be posted outside her cell at all times. She doubted that Pine would be particularly 'understanding' about the fact that she had managed to sneak away during their change over.

And what about the tall man with the metal arm? What would he do, once his only chance of recovering his memories had sneaked off in the night? It struck Erin that she still didn't know his name. She still referred to him as 'Optimus' in her mind, as much as that embarrassed her.

He was an enigma wrapped in a conundrum. 

She couldn't say that he didn't intimidate her: the guy wasn't a brick shithouse of muscle like Pine, but there was a definition to his broad shoulders and a certain way that he held himself that told Erin that if he had wanted her dead at any point during the last four days, he would have succeeded. Without much effort. And then there was that monstrosity of a metal arm, all whirring nuts and bolts, a gaudy red star painted to the shoulder of it. He said he hadn't chosen to have it but that didn't mean that he wasn't prepared to use it. She knew that he was dangerous so why was she so keen to help him?

There was a small creak from the door and Erin's eyes snapped open. She sat up like a shot, letting out a small curse as her arm jarred once more. She was going to have to keep an eye on that. James Goodwinson slid through the small opening and she grinned. Their plan was in motion.

"And here I was, thinking you weren't going to come..." There was a smile in her voice and on her face.

"Get up. Quickly." He walked towards her as she tried to push herself up off the mattress with her good arm and grabbed her gently by the shoulders. He helped her up, then grabbed her good hand tightly and almost dragged her out of the room. She followed him on bare feet, the sensitive skin of her soles slapping loudly against the hard cold floor. Erin turned around, took one last glance at the room in which she had spent the worst days of her life (so far, at least), then followed Goodwinson out of the door.

The corridor was dimly lit and her eyes took a moment or two to adjust to the change in lighting. Goodwinson had been right, there were no guards in sight, but that didn't mean that they wouldn't return soon. He locked the door to Erin's cell with the key card that he had obviously stolen and turned to face her. He was obviously more scared than he let himself appear.

"This way." He took her good hand once again and led her through the tight metal corridor. She stumbled slightly as he pulled her, her legs unsteady from such a long time of disuse, but she managed to keep up a relatively good speed. The corridors were like a maze and the two of them made so many twists and turns in their journey that she doubted she would be able to find her way back. Erin couldn't help but notice the HYDRA insignias, red and all-seeing, painted on each wall like a brand. You couldn't forget where you were in this place. And they would not let you.