Silhouette in the Dark

VII.

                                                                  [2015]

"What makes you think I want her?" He looked down at her, disapproval glaring from his eyes. "She is flawed. Broken. I don't want to see her again."

"You're not one of us," the voice hissed at her. She slowly backed away as the man walked closer, clenching his fists and leaning in close to make his point. "You'll never be one of us."

"She's nothing more than a thief. She's not welcome here!" the woman exclaimed, unaware that she was being listened to. Slowly, the girl walked away and into the night. One tear slid down her face before she bottled up the pain of rejection, like she had so many times before. They were right. She wasn't welcome there. She wasn't welcome anywhere.

                                                                  ■ ◙ ■ ◙ ■

She was tossing in her sleep, clearly having an unpleasant dream. Steve hesitated slightly then continued advancing. One ear shot into an upright position, and she woke with a start. Both froze, staring at the other and unsure of what to do next. Steve noticed that she was still favoring one leg. She seemed hesitant to attack, no doubt remembering the painful results from their previous encounters.

Steve stepped closer, and the wolf's hackles rose. She snarled slightly, but he could see the fear in her eyes. She was terrified of him. He held his hands up, showing them to be empty. "It's just me this time." As he continued walking forward, the snarl turned into a vicious growl. He continued moving forward but at a slower pace. "I know you're frightened, but we're trying to help you."

The wolf's growl ceased, and the hair on the back of her neck slowly flattened. She locked eyes with him as she walked behind a thick tree, emerging on the other side as a young woman clothed in black. "What makes you think I need help?" It was the first time he had heard her speak, and he noticed that she had a slight accent. "You didn't think so then."

Steve's hands remained in their upright position, but he flattened his palms to show his confusion. "I honestly don't know what you're talking about."

Tala tensed, bracing herself against the tree with one foot. "You will." Before he could realize what was happening, Tala had launched herself away from the tree and changed into a wolf in midair. He moved backward, just in time for Falcon to swoop down and grab the wolf, throwing her across the clearing into a cluster of rocks. She hit headfirst and slumped to the ground, unconscious from the blow.

                                                                  ■ ◙ ■ ◙ ■

Where am I? Tala slowly opened her eyes and closed them again, blinded by the light above her. She groaned when a headache hit, throbbing within her skull. She moved her hands toward her head, but they only came partway up. Something was tying them down. Tala tried opening her eyes again, going even slower to accustom them to the light. When she finally could see, she studied her surroundings.

She was in a glass room in what looked to be the inside of a dam. The bright lights above her reflected off the glass, making it hard to distinguish much else. Slowly, her gaze fell to the chair she was seated in. Her arms and legs were handcuffed to those of the chair, preventing her from raising her arms or standing. In front of her was a table and two more chairs. This was a makeshift interrogation room.

The door to the room opened and in walked two people she was well acquainted with at this point. The blond man—Rogers—looked almost apologetic about her situation, but that was probably an act. The good cop, bad cop routine. Ginger over here was definitely the bad cop. Tala's lips contorted into a sneer as she remembered that the redheaded woman was the one who had injured her in New York.

The redhead tossed a folder onto the table. Out spilled several documents with information on Tala. She tried not to act surprised as she read what they had learned about her. Her code names. They knew about Lark. "Who are you?" the woman asked, leaning on the back of a chair. The man stayed by the door and kept quiet, but Tala could tell he was studying her. She let her gaze drift back to the woman, contemplating how she should answer her question. She finally decided against answering it at all and used her eyes to indicate the folder. The woman looked at it then back at her with a frown. "How did Zola get you? What did he do to you?"

Tala could feel the surge of hatred that welled within her at the mention of the doctor. The one who tortured her, trying to force her to match his idea of perfection. The one who cast her out as an imperfection and told her she wasn't good enough. Oh, how she hated that name.

The questioning continued, carried solely by the red-haired woman. Rogers said nothing the entire time. Finally, the woman stood straight and motioned for him to follow. As soon as they were outside, Tala got to work.

                                                                  ■ ◙ ■ ◙ ■

"This isn't going anywhere." Natasha was visibly frustrated by the lack of results from the interrogation. "You heard her speak, right?"

"Yes. She had an accent, but I couldn't quite place where it's from." Steve ran a hand through his hair, glancing back in the direction of the cell. He and Natasha had moved a ways down the corridor so Tala couldn't witness them discussing the situation.

"What exactly did she say?"

"She said I didn't help her 'then.' I don't know what she means by that."

Natasha sighed. "We'll figure that out. If anything, though, that's definitive proof that she's from your time period."

Steve scoffed. "Like we need any more proof." The duo began walking back toward the cell. "It still doesn't explain how she's here, now. How could she live for so long if she wasn't kept contained like Bucky?"

Natasha shook her head. "I don't know, but something about her is not sitting well with me. She's just—" Natasha stopped midsentence, staring straight ahead at the open cell door. "Gone. She's gone."