The ghosts we hide (Winter Soldier x OC)

Thirty five

The cold shower helps to calm me down.

Once I'm done, I dry myself off with one of the heavenly white towels, the fabric so delicate against my freezing skin. I find the softest clothes I can in the wardrobe and pull them on, revelling in the comfort of the warmth despite almost drowning in fabric.

Only when I have it on do I realise I've picked up the black hoodie Nat gave me the day I shifted. I still have no idea whose it is.

The sky outside is turbulent, dark clouds dominating the heavens with the constant threat of rain, yet none falls. Greyness seems to seep into the world, reflecting off the thousands of windows and covering the city in its gloomy clutches.

But despite the tenebrous sky, it's only midday.

My eyes shift to the bed in the corner. Most of me longs to curl under the covers and fall asleep, but the other, somehow more dominant part, shies away from the prospect, too scared of what it'll find in the dark.

I have to sleep at some point - but that point doesn't have to be now.

Letting out a sigh, I wrap my arms around my middle.

"Ms. Nelson, Agent Romanoff would like to see you in lounge."

JARVIS' voice makes me jump out of my skin, the sound coming from nowhere. I glare at the ceiling, shooting daggers at where I imagine the voice to live. JARVIS is basically the artificial God of the avengers tower anyway - it makes sense.

"What does she want?"

"To see you." The voice replies, its flat tone sarcastic.

Helpful.

Anxiety bubbles in my stomach as I walk to the door, hesitating with my hand on the handle.

I can't avoid everyone forever.

Gritting my teeth I exit my room and walk slowly down the corridor. On the journey, my mind whirs through the millions of things Natasha could want to see me about, the number one theory being asking me everything I know about Maurice Mengele. Even the idea of voicing the memories I have of that man make me nauseous.

The only thing worse than that would be having to relive that torture in front of the whole team - a team who are probably already judging me for what happened this morning as it is.

Prepared for the Spanish Inquisition, I reach the stairs, pausing to glance around the room. I think it's empty to start with before I catch sight of Nat, and Nat alone, sat on the sofa.

Thank God.

"Hey." She smiles as I make my way cautiously over, preparing for the worst. I take a seat next to her, my posture rigid against the soft cushions.

Her green gaze analyses me for a long moment, scanning my stoic features carefully as something settles in her emerald stare.

"How are you feeling?" She asks, features soft.

I force myself not to narrow my eyes as I scan her relaxed figure, trying to work out her play.

"Ok."

I can see in her eyes that she doesn't believe me. Natasha doesn't comment though, instead reaching to her side and picking up the remote for the tv.

"I had a bad feeling that you'd be "ok", so I thought I'd introduce you to the concept of the movie marathon."

My brow pulls down in shock as I stare at the red head, confusion clouding my mind.

"What?"

"A movie marathon. It's basically where you watch..."