Love Is Gone 🔹️ 𝙎𝙩𝙚𝙫𝙚 𝙍𝙤𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙨

Love Is Gone

Steve. A unique person in the eyes of the entire world. To her, the most unique human that stood far above the rest. All others to her were cruel, darkly conniving, untrustable and ready to inflict horrendous pain in the race for power.

But not Steve Rogers. Admittedly she'd initially pursued the man in the hope of gaining insider intel of SHIELD. She'd intended to hate him for his affiliations. Almost immediately she'd found herself incapable of thinking negatively about him at all. Steve was just too pure hearted. So easily to become loyal too and to trust. In a world where he was walking alone, she'd tried to use that against him. Instead she'd found herself at his side because she was just as lost as he was.

Finding herself kneeled over the side of the bath, the door locked securely and staring down various items stolen from the cupboards, that bond of kindred spirits wouldn't help her now.

She hesitantly hiked up the vest to find her stomach blooming in offence. The mix of what was marked "antiseptic gel", dualited with a few sparse herbs and the primary ingredient of salt clawed at the blisters sharply, flaring up like a naked flame on the damaged skin. Hisses barged against her gritted teeth in need to be released while her fingers forced herself to work the sloppy solution into the sickly area. Free hand shuddering in its grip of the basin edge in attempts to keep herself contained to muffled whines and grunts of discomfort. Under her breath, the lowest of steam like hisses sizzled from beneath her hand in effect. It was comparable to the crackling a frying pain would create on contact with meat, like when Steve would tryingly cook bacon for them on mornings they'd share company. It felt as intense, sweaty, searing as she imagined the roasting meats would endure. Except her body wouldn't start to smell like that. If anything, with further deterioration, the aroma would be of rotting flesh as she'd slowly succumb.

For a being who held more strength than her small form would suggest, she dropped to the floor hunching over her knees faster than she'd ever believed she could. Her abdomen was on fire with the solution's acidic properties. Her legs shook enough to give way under her and as she went, a single shaking cry escaped her in refusal to be snubbed. It shamed her, letting it out. She believed herself to be strong, able to ignore pain. She felt it often enough. Now she was the picture of human weakness, slumped by the toilet, knees drawn to her chest, arms atop, and her forehead slowly easing down to rest on them. Begging for the expected relief to take hold and get her back to fighting strength.

It took minutes that dragged like the tip of a sword, her body stayed on the tipping point. Eyes squeezed closed to block out the increasingly harsh glare of the light until she stabilised herself. The quiet raps against the door felt distant to her and were gone as fast as they came. She didn't care, not until they returned accompanied by the softest concern.

"Rita?" Steve's voice queried with gentle worry with another series of knocks from the opposite side of the door. "You okay?"

Black locks splayed with the drowsy lift of her head, the sigh that followed preceded her attempt at standing. Grip firm on the side of the sink, hauling herself up. The sharp eruption of stinging from her side sent her right back down with a low pained huff.

"I'm fine Steve." Forcefully stable lies were offered in the hope he'd leave her be.

The lack of receding footsteps assured her dismally that it wouldn't be the case.

"Can you open up?" He queried testingly, Rita unsure if he'd have caught that deep groan. Damn this man's persistence. She supposed he hadn't gotten to become Captain America without stubbornness.

Across the floor a discarded jumper lay crumpled, assumingly by Sam pre shower at some point. All the better for her, despite the shoots of pain she fought to stifle while she strained her body across the floor until she clutched it. Now, getting it on was rigid agony, especially how the wool fibres scratched against the still tender areas of skin.