seven

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"Epic showdown?" I didn't know who had spoken, I was too stuck inside my own head. My heart was beating harder, thumping so hard in my ears I could barely hear at all. That night, six years ago, was the black spot in my memories. The night I somehow remembered everything and yet nothing at all. The ultimate betrayal. Thinking there was no way out. Having the barrel of a gun pressed against my skin by a man who had told me he loved me moments before.

"Mia," Nat's voice cut through the violence and blackness that swirled through my mind, taking over real life. I could feel her hand on mine over the table still and I recognised her voice but pulling away from that night was deemed more difficult than expected. I should have expected that the second Natasha had asked me to come with her to explain the others. I had never worked through all the buried trauma after the time with Silver. Now it felt like something might be stuck in my throat. Was I breathing? I was spiralling, falling into the darkness and feeling that gun pressed to my body and the raw emotion of seeing the one who was about to pull the trigger.

"You in there, Princess?" Steve's voice cut through the drowning and I was back in the present, angry flames filling my body as he called me Princess again. My eyes set on him, glaring, ready to snap, when I saw his expression. He wasn't being a jerk. His arms were crossed over his chest like he was annoyed, but his face was all concern. How he had known calling me Princess would pull me back, I had no idea.

"He tried to enslave us, killed the ones he couldn't bend. The ones who escaped are off the grid." My voice sounded like something was in my throat and I pulled my hand away from Nat's, pushing my chair back. I stood quickly, ignoring the questions and the stares and hightailed it out of the room and down the hall. I turned a corner before I pressed my back against the wall and fell to the floor, holding my hand over my mouth to keep from letting the sob out. I didn't talk about that night. There was a reason I didn't talk about the others. When I looked at my hands, I flashed back to the blood staining them from that night. I was no stranger to blood, but when I was holding the lifeless corpse of somebody I had cared for, it had pushed me over the edge. I remembered the weight of their bodies in my arms and on my shoulders even now, the feeling of knowing nothing could ever be right again.

"You good?" I jumped at Steve's voice. I let my hands fall to the floor as I watched him, arms crossed over his chest and leaning against the wall opposite me.

"Go ahead and laugh at the assassin who can't handle a bit of death," I spat out, grateful that my voice sounded more normal.

"I'm asking for real," He said. I looked him over. His stance was stand-offish but the concern was still there on his face. I wanted to both laugh and spit on him.

"I like to stay inside because nobody can hurt me in here," I said, feeling how much I might regret talking to Steve even as I struggled to keep my mouth shut.

"People can still find you indoors," He told me. I shook my head.

"You don't get it," I said. "Usually when I'm inside, I'm alone. When I'm alone, nobody can get close enough to break my heart." I looked at my knees as I felt his eyes on me.

"That's no way to live your life," He said. I risked glancing up at him, locking eyes with his bright blue.

"Obviously nobody has broken your heart, Cap."

"You don't know me."

"And you don't know enough about me to decide how I live my life," I said. "You don't know what I went through, what I'm still going through."

"You're right," He said to my surprise. "I judged you too early."

"Don't go getting all soft on me now, Cap." I rolled my eyes and looked to the blank wall across from me, biting my tongue. "But thank you, for checking."

"Like I said, I'm not worried about you," He snorted and I looked back at him, all traces of concern gone. "I get to pull the next shift."

america's assassin ➻ steve rogersWhere stories live. Discover now