Remnants of Time

Chapter 6

Steve looked around, hesitant to enter the unspectacular motel the redhead had chosen to stay in for the night. Would they be safe here?
He followed Nat though, through the front and the hallways she treated like she'd walked past a hundred times before. The key she held said Room 14, but Room 14 was five rooms back and Natasha wasn't slowing down.
Steve didn't say anything, he was just glad they could lie down somewhere and let their recent discoveries sink in. Although, maybe he didn't want them to sink in, into his soul and into where it really hurt. His ears weren't doing their job, he'd observed that during the last few hours. Everything sounded dull, as if he was in a daze. Maybe it was the sniper's fault, messing up his left ear that soaked the gauze around it again. Natasha would give him a glare for it, but she'd fix the mess, that was for sure.
But maybe it was just what she'd said earlier, fatal words echoing through his mind.
"Bucky is gone", captured his mind completely. How? How did they manage to do that? Did they take him or what happened? Were the others fine?
That, he could answer - sort of. He knew Wanda wasn't. She'd blame herself for everything, especially when Steve had given her the responsibility not for someone, but for Bucky Barnes.

Natasha had led them into a room that looked really nice, with one big bed, a chest, a desk and even an armchair. This wasn't a hotel room, it was hers only, Sam realized when Nat opened the locked chest and the first thing in there was a tazer. Steve still stood around, gazing into nowhere.
"Steve?", she asked, touching his shoulder. He tried to blink away his sorrows but didn't do a good job with that, because Natasha frowned.
"Okay, who sleeps where?", Sam changed the topic. "I can take the bed, I don't mind."
He grinned cheekily and got a pillow in his face right away for that, shot with ultimate precision.
"Yeah, you'd like that, huh?" A pillow fight commenced, one of the kind that you take serious, no matter how old you are. It lasted long enough to push away the horror that this day had been. For a few minutes, it felt like nothing bad had happened, like the three of them were just friends on a trip to a different country.
Nat blew a strand of hair out of her face and looked at Steve. He smiled. Mission accomplished. Good.
"You can have the bed if you want." The offer was all Nat could give him right now. Barnes was gone, they were running, T'Challa was probably furious and they'd lost their only source of information, this was crap, all of it. He could have the bed. He deserved it.
Sam interrupted, apparently still not satisfied. "Nah. He's got a super-back. He can have the armchair." Another pillow followed and laughter bubbled through the room. "Just sayin'."
But Steve shook his head. Sam noticed the expression in his eyes; he'd seen that one before. It was one Captain America couldn't even do, this was what insecurity looked like, in concentrated form. Steve is afraid of hurting us. We couldn't hold him down if he got a nightmare.
"I'll keep watch. If someone is following us, we should keep our eyes open."
You feel that if you open your mouth close your eyes, the horrors might never end.
Nat touched his shoulder, not sure what to say.

The sky had transformed into a dark mess of clouds and stars and the city's thousand lights lit up in the distance. Nat had slipped into bed already, going through the brown files again, for the fourth time, still looking for clues, but Sam was still up, seated on the armchair with his wings on his knees, checking for loose screws and grazes. They still wore their normal clothes, only Steve was running around in just a pair of pants. His shirt was drying on the heater. Also, the cool air soothed the burning bruises on his back.
He looked around, suddenly remembering that he had packed an extra shirt. If they'd need to get up quickly to leave or if Natasha became uncomfortable with him running around half-naked, he'd need that shirt.
"I left something in the car, I'll be back in a minute. Do you guys need anything?", he asked, quickly pulling on one of Natasha's hoodies that couldn't have been hers, not size-wise, not smell-wise. Steve didn't say anything, but they smelled like Clint. He always left his stuff in all kinds of places and then wondered who had taken them. Since the Battle of New York, when the archer had moved into the Stark Tower, later the Avengers Tower, he must've lost half his wardrobe. Soon, everyone started wearing Clint's clothes.
Steve's bare feet tapped over the hallways of the relatively empty motel which wasn't crappy, but not chic either. Perfect for hiding. He smiled, wondering if Nat had more rooms like this one, in different places all around the globe.