𝒊𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒐𝒄𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆 | ʜᴇʟᴍᴜᴛ ᴢᴇᴍᴏ

𝟏𝟎 ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ

somewhere over iran, the zemo private jet

Kalina couldn't feel her arms, and her body was weighted down as if gravity had overcome her entire being. The world around her shuffled quietly, as the low hum of air traveled past her body. The cushion she rested her head on was soft and luxurious, reminding her of a cloud in the sky. The darkness behind her lids started to change and she became more aware of dim lighting surrounding her.

A shifting in the atmosphere around her made the transition from unconsciousness slightly more attainable and the creaking of distant shuffles rattled her body to reality. Slowly opening her eyes, Kalina's vision was blurred from the amount of time she had spent in the altered state. Smells were the first sense that fully returned to her: a musty aftershave, the scent of scotch, a mechanical whisper of oils and plastic, and a familiar cedar and patchouli cologne hanging in the air.

The sounds shortly followed, as she noticed her breath in the pressurized compartment was slightly labored and the tinkling of a glass that was set down on a solid surface nearby. The shaking of the vessel she was in brought an alertness to her body. As she looked around, hoping to grasp at her vision, she felt movement next to her and a hand graze her forehead, wiping a few stray hairs from her lashes.

"Dorogaya moya." The male voice resonated sweetly in Kalina's ears as she felt the warmth of the words my dearest in his tone. Though she could hardly see the figure sitting beside her, she knew that she was safe in the melody he sang.

As she shifted slowly in place, the woman desperately attempted to raise her arms to rub her eyes free of the blur, but felt the invisible tug of pain pull her down to the surface she lay. She felt soft but firm hands placed on her chest, telling her to rest her body. Blinking harder, trying to rid her eyes of the tears that formed from the sear of pain pulsating in her left shoulder, she breathed out a raspy sound.

"Rest, Kalina. You have time. You've lost some blood, but you will recover." The man's voice cooed at her, and she eased back into her bed. As the world around her began to fizzle into existence, Kalina took in the scene.

She lay in a small bed propped up by the fluffiest pillows and the most finely threaded sheets. As she gained her bearing, the private jet finally began to take form. Helmut sat before her, smiling patiently with nothing but love and devotion in his eyes.

"Why can't I... feel my arms?" Kalina's strained voice sounded surreal, as though the sound did not come from her lips. She struggled to wiggle her fingers. The right hand eventually responded, but not without a dull ache emanating from the bruise on her bicep she had sustained in Selby's club. The left was not so generous.

Reaching to her, Helmut lightly took her right hand in his and held it. "You will. You have a gunshot wound in your shoulder."

He frowned, feeling immense guilt for her pain. It was his fault. He had brought her to Madripoor and allowed her to remain alone in the container lot as her had rushed to the aid of the Avengers. He should have left them there to die in their gun fight and swept Kalina away to safety, yet she lay here before him, injured but alive. The imagery of what could have been rushed through his mind and he shook his head to rid himself of the intrusive thoughts.