Cherry || b.barnes

36 || Project Invidia

»How much have you... has any of you heard? Seen?« I ask, head tilted forwards, staring at the ground that becomes smaller and smaller the more up the elevator drives us. 

James, still behind me, stands tall and tensed. I can see it in his reflection in the glass below us, in front of us. It's illegal how beautiful he is, and the places my head wanders involuntarily, uncontrollably, are making me a sinner.

Hearing him exhale loudly, I assume what's incoming can't be all too good. »Steve and you have been there for quite a while, and some of us feared you might've gotten him against all odds. Wanda was worrying about Natasha immensely, and these two fears combined made her unstoppable when she decided to speed up the process. We heard her cry a little after since we were waiting a level below, just to be sure, and up we were.«

I nod, silently thanking him for clarifying that. It's good that we weren't listened to; that they didn't suddenly make the dummy cameras work. I wouldn't want anyone to invade my privacy like that, or hear that conversation of Steven's and me. It felt way too intimate for having observers. »Where're you taking me?«

Right in that second, the lift bells with our arrival, and opens the door for us to get into the level. I've been here before, once or twice. It's their apartment; Romanoff's, Rogers's and James's. »They just told me to get you away and are currently checking through your stuff for whatever reason. The second time, actually. I bet if I had seen the pictures you drew, I'd known.«

A cold shiver runs down my spine. »Doesn't answer my question.«

»I'm taking you to my room.« he states, and there's an insecurity sweeping with it that can only mean that no one else knows. »I think we have to talk.«

Guiding me along the dimly lit corridor with white walls all around us and laminate floor, he goes for the last door on the left and opens it, then stepping behind me again and escorting me in. There's a book shelf, high, on the wall, his un-made bed, the door to his bathroom closed and one of his novels laying opened on his nightstand. Everything smells of sandalwood and sweet whiskey, and my heart hiccups at the sudden warmth flooding me, despite all the nightmares of circumstances.

With a click, I feel weight coming off my hands and them dropping. I take them forward, rub along my sore wrists just to suppress the urge to shriek back from the piercing pain that action evokes. 

»You can take my shower. I'ma get you something to eat and drink.«
He locks the door behind me, and when I hear his heartbeat right outside the door for a second with no other movement, my body is coated in goosebumps.

*

I'm not only still wondering as to why James suddenly is that nice to me again. He seemed, when I last saw him in the interrogation room, pretty vexed and has all the right to. A million different purposes pop up in my head for his rollercoaster behavior, but none really fits. None but the one that tells me he's behaving friendly now to have me on the verge to tell him everything as soon as we get to talk. 

No, I'm also wondering about what to wear. He told me I could use his shower, which includes his shampoo and cream – for once, I'm not mad at the smell of men hovering around me like an aura -, but what to wear? I could've saved the water should I be expected to take on the same dirty suit as before. And walking to my level is close to impossible just now. There's a reason James more or less hides me from everyone else.

Just as I consider actually putting on the black, blood-stained cloth again, there's a timid knock on the door, followed by a voice so soft it's giving me shivers again. I don't know where he knows from that that's what I need the most currently, or if he's just gentlemanly and shy all of a sudden, but the baritone notes vibrating through the door calm my poor heart as well as they make it race. »'You alright?«