La Petite Fleur

Chaos

"And don't you be late," she told him, holding back the tears that were so clearly evident in the way her voice cracked.

He tried to reply but he'd been distracted and hadn't realized the proximity of the jet with the ground. He didn't have to be dreaming to know what came next. Crash.

He jerked bodily in the chair and sat forward with a start, wide awake. His breathing was quick and ragged, as if he'd really been on the Hydra jet just mere minutes ago. The stillness of the room did nothing to help his shot nerves until a gentle hand rested on his tense shoulder.

"Steve?" Antoinette's voice asked quietly.

He whipped his head around to meet her eyes but found that he couldn't and looked away, staring intently at the floor. "Nightmare," he muttered, trying to still his shaking hands.

"What about?" She crouched beside the chair and slipped a mug of coffee into his hands. Wisps of steam curled from the black surface and tickled his nose with the inviting aroma.

"Just..." He found it difficult answering her, not because he was loathe to lie to her again, though that was part of it, but because he'd never told anyone about the crash.

"Only tell me if you are confortable," she said, preparing to stand.

"No. It's fine. Just something that happened in the war- a jet crash."

She bit her lower lip and nodded a little before standing and staring out the window. He followed her line of sight to a tree across the street whose leaves were beginning to turn brown around the edges. The summer was gone, tomorrow would bring the first day of October, and the mission was almost over. Once Fury had had his way, Antoinette would be safe and he would be recalled to the Helicarrier for some other mission.

With a sigh, he rose to his feet and took a swallow of the hot coffee. It helped somewhat but not much.

He realized that Antoinette was already showered and changed and had her backpack propped against the sofa near the entrance to the hallway. The catacombs. Of course. He'd completely forgotten but there was no way she would forget. He finished his coffee and showered as well, changing into fresh clothes and splashing cold water on his face to wake himself up more.

Once he was ready, they were on their way to the catacombs.

The whole while, Antoinette kept her chatter to a pleasant amount though he could tell she was bursting to rattle on and on. He could also tell she was doing it for him. He now was feeling the beginnings of a headache throbbing against his left temple and loud or obtrusive sounds were making it worse.

When they finally reached the entrance to the Parisian catacombs, Antoinette grinned. They were open and few people stood around. Before he knew it, Steve was following her underground into an ancient burial sight housing millions of skeletons.

A narrow circular staircase wound down and down and down until opening into a dark, twisting tunnel. The place smelled of earth and damp stone but that was to be expected. It took a while for his eyes to adjust, and when they did, what he saw was nothing spectacular. Just walls of stone carving their way deeper underground.

As he and Antoinette followed the winding tunnel, he couldn't believe this is the place she'd always wanted to visit. It was unpleasant at best and really not somewhere he'd ever want to visit again. Soon, they came to a plaque of sorts that read 'Arrête! C'est ici l'empire de la Mort!'

"Stop, here lies the empire of death," she translated for him.

"Wow, couldn't have found something a little more morbid, could they?" he muttered sarcastically.

She plunged on, past the threatening plaque and into a chamber walled with skulls and long, thin bones. Steve could have surrendered his breakfast to the empire of the dead right then but he held back his revulsion and concentrated on not making eye contact with the empty sockets of the skulls. He felt as if he were constantly being watched; as if those black holes in the carefully placed skulls were following him as he walked.

He was careful to place his feet where there was no chance of him accidentally kicking or stepping on a loose bone. He could already imagine himself barely nicking a protruding shin bone and creating a grotesque skeleton avalanche. Nasty.

As they journeyed further into the mass grave, the skin on the back of his neck began to prickle and goosebumps ran across his arms. If he were to rate this place on the creep factor, he'd give it a perfect ten; on the decor, not so much. He took as deep a breath he could of the dank, stale air and forged on for Antoinette's sake. She, at least, was enjoying herself and would halt frequently to stare at a pile of skulls or a design made of mangled vertebral columns.

The dim lights of the meandering tunnels were only making his headache worse and all his senses burned in the hushed, cramped spaces between larger exhibits. After a while, he found he had acclimated somewhat and his headache eased as long as he didn't look at the struggling lamps above them. Often, he had to duck to avoid hitting his head on a low hanging lightbulb strung on an extension cord twenty feet from the next light.

Each bulb provided just enough illumination in the tight tunnels to make the paths passable. When you passed through the artificial pool of light, there were always two steps of utter, impenetrable blackness between bulbs that made Steve nervous every time they stepped through one. He always felt as if something was waiting in the shadows and would jump out and scream Bah! at any second.

In a more deserted portion of the catacombs, Antoinette got excited about something and sped up her pace in anticipation.

"What's the rush?" he called to her.

"There is a major exhibit just around the corner and I want to see it," she replied.

"Alright. Don't get too far ahead," he advised, watching her disappear around the bend in the earth tunnel. As soon as she was out of sight, he felt a chill pass through him and he knew something was wrong.

"Antoinette?" he called, slowing his footsteps. "Can you come see something? It's in French and I can't read it."

No response.

His brain wanted to hit the panic button but he took a deep inhale and held it long enough to get himself under control before releasing it again. Cautiously, he rounded the corner and took a step into the circular chamber. As soon as he was three feet into the room, he felt something hard and cold pressed between his shoulder blades.