Control (Avengers Fan Fiction)

[ 35 ]

Scarlett's fists connected with the hard punching bag, her wrapped knuckles leaving the material for a split second before she delivered a few more rapid punches. She had been up for hours going at it. She was dressed in black spandex leggings and a matching black top. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. A thin layer of sweat had found its way to her skin. Her breathing was a little labored but controlled.

Bucky stood in the doorway of the training room. His arms were crossed as he watched her continue to throw punch after brutal punch to the bag. She was venting, getting out her pent up emotions the only way she knew how. This was a good sign, but also a bad one. There was a growing pile of busted bags in the corner of the room, a telltale sign of her anger.

The punching bag she was currently beating ripped and sand poured out of it. Scarlett stepped back so she wouldn't get sand in her black tennis shoes and took a few deep breaths. She then took the bag down and added it to the pile in the corner of the room.

"Is there something you need, Barnes?" She didn't turn to acknowledge him as she put another bag up onto a bar hanging from the ceiling. Though she hadn't even looked in his direction, she knew he was the one watching her. She could tell by his heartbeat and breathing.

"Just came down here to see what you were doing." Bucky shrugged his broad shoulders. "Everyone else is working on some sort of mission thing that I don't want to be a part of. How are you feeling?"

"Fine." She answered flatly. She swiped a few pieces of dark hair back out of her eyes and glanced over to him. He moved further into the training room. He sat down a few yards away from her on a bench.

"I had a few slip ups when I first got out of HYDRA." He absentmindedly rubbed his left arm, his eyes lingering on the punching bags in the corner of the room. "I killed six S.H.I.E.L.D. agents and three doctors."

Scarlett looked down to her hands, taking note of the dried blood on the bandages. She must've been punching the bags way too hard.

"I'm past that, Barnes." She murmured gently. She moved to sit about a foot away from him on the bench. "I was with Vince for almost ten years.... and I killed him. People usually cry when they lose someone they've been with or even known that long."

"Do you feel like crying?"

"Not over him." She shook her head. She began to unwrap her hands. "I don't want to hurt Pietro."

"What would you do that would hurt him?" Bucky quietly asked.

"I don't know. I can't predict the future. I can't promise that I won't do something stupid down the road." She shrugged her shoulders. "But I don't want to hurt him."

"When you're close with someone, kid.... hurt kinda comes with it. Doesn't matter if they're just a friend or more than that. Especially people like us." His voice lowered and his eyes dropped back down to his hands. "Opening up for us is more difficult than people realize, and being that way with someone is extremely challenging. Hell, it's been two years and I'm still trying to learn."

"Are you and Nat trying?" Scarlett wasn't sure if she had a right to ask but she was genuinely curious. She had noticed the way they seemed to share little smiles here or there, or passed soft words in Russian when they thought she was too far away to hear.

"Not too hard." Bucky nodded his head, a little smile tugging at his lips. "Just kind of taking things easy, seeing if it gets us anywhere."

Scarlett nodded her head too.

"I thought this was a training room!" Sam's voice echoed off the walls of the large room as he and Steve walked in. Scarlett glanced to the time on the digital clock on the wall across the room. It was seven in the morning. "Y'all are sitting on your lazy asses doing nothing."