Amara Freyadottir, the heir to the throne of Vanaheim, has never been one for royal trivialities. She would much rather spend her days exploring the lands of Vanaheim and Asgard, finding places to read, and having fun with her best friend, Loki. How...
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"stephen raises an eyebrow, a silent question."
TWO DAYS LATER, Stephen returns to New York with two new additions to Stark Tower. Thankfully, only certain areas of the tower are undergoing repairs from the battle, so there is still plenty of room to house new members.
The infirmary is beginning to get rather crowded, though.
The three HYDRA victims (Wanda included) are being treated in separate bays for malnutrition and various other small injuries. Wanda is the weakest by far, having exhausted all of her energy having to destroy the stone and then going on a mission directly after. Her brother is in better shape, and their friend (whose name is Bucky, Amara thinks, but can't be certain) is hardly injured, but instead is angry and confused. It seems he is the only one out of the three that didn't really want to be rescued, maybe because he had no idea he was being abused and has never known a life outside of HYDRA.
As Stephen sits with Amara in her infirmary room, he presses an ice pack to his left eye, where a nasty bruise is beginning to form. Apparently, Bucky had put up a hell of a fight when Stephen tried to rescue him.
"God, that metal arm packs a punch," Stephen groans, tilting his head back against the chair. "How've you been feeling?"
Amara nods as she takes a sip from a cup of water. "Better every day," she says. Her voice, though still raspy, is starting to sound more like herself. Bruce had cleared her to walk around earlier in the day, which is a big step forward.
"That's good," Stephen says, resting his eyes. "And Loki?"
She stiffens slightly at the question, slowly setting her water down on the plastic tray attached to her bed. "He still isn't awake," she says softly. "Although, Bruce said earlier that his brain activity is increasing, so perhaps soon."
Stephen hums in response. A moment later, he removes the ice pack from his eye and sits up, looking at Amara with a more serious expression. "And how do you feel about that?"
Amara sinks back into the hospital bed, clasping her hands together tightly. She gives a minute shrug. "Fine. I'm... anxious to see him again, for many reasons."
Stephen raises an eyebrow, a silent question. "Are you sure about that? Because it seems to me like you're a little scared about seeing him again."
Amara looks off to the ground, fiddling with her fingers. Of course Stephen would be able to see right through her. "It's not that I'm scared," she begins softly. "It's... I don't know how I'm supposed to feel, and I don't know if what I am feeling is okay."
"And what is it that you are feeling?"
Amara sighs, pondering the question and trying to get her emotions into words. "I... I know it wasn't him, but..." She trails off, shaking her head, "it was still really scary... Whenever he was fighting me, strangling me... his eyes were so cold. I really thought he was going to kill me, and the worst part of it wasn't even that, but the fact that he looked like he was enjoying it."
Stephen simply looks at her for a moment before raising an eyebrow. "It kinda sounds like you are scared of him," he observes, eyes narrowed, "and it's not anything to feel bad about if you are. PTSD can happen in situations like these - it's normal."
"But I don't want it to happen," Amara protests. She knows, of course, that her words are in vain. She can't fully admit that Stephen is right, but deep down she knows that he is. It is an awful thing for her to feel, but she can't help it - the thought of seeing Loki again makes her absolutely sick to her stomach.
Before Stephen can formulate a response, Steve shyly peeks from behind the hospital curtains. Amara welcomes him in with a nod of her head.
Steve smiles apologetically as he steps inside. "Hey. I, uh, just wanted to see if you'd want to walk around. Wanda's awake, I thought you might want to see her - but if it's a bad time, that's fine."
Amara looks to Stephen and he nods encouragingly. "Go ahead. I might nap here for a while," he says, bringing the ice pack back to his eye.
"Yikes, that looks rough. Who did that to you?" Steve asks as Amara slowly begins to stand.
"One of the people we brought back from HYDRA - he's got a metal arm that packs a helluva punch. Speaking of him, would you check in on him for me? He's in bay 17 - he's been having a rough time adjusting, I think."
Steve helps Amara to her feet, bringing her IV pole around the bed for her. "Sure thing - we can make a pit stop, right?" he asks Amara with a smile.
She nods in return, more focused on maneuvering out of the infirmary cubicle than participating in the conversation. Eventually, once she is out in the open hallway, Steve loops his right arm through her left to support her. They start walking the halls, Amara dragging the bothersome IV pole behind her with her free hand.
The conversation is light as they approach the bays occupied by the HYDRA victims. The first one they come across is the 17th bay, where the curtains are drawn tightly together and it is impossible to see inside the cubicle.
Somewhat awkwardly, Steve knocks on the wall to which the curtain rods are attached. "Hey, friend? Are you up for some visitors?" he asks, voice apprehensive.
There is no response, and when Steve looks to Amara for advice, she simply shrugs and nudges the curtains open slightly. She peers inside and her eyes instantly connect with those of the angry rescuee. His hair is long, dark, and slightly disheveled, and his eyes are filled with the coldness of trauma.
Before she can say anything to him, she hears Steve's voice echo in the cubicle. "Bucky?!"
The man's eyes narrow slightly, head tilting just a bit to the side.
No longer using caution, Steve enters the cubicle abruptly. He stops just short of the head of the bed, staring at the man before him with complete shock and confusion.
"Steve?" Amara asks, almost concerned.
He ignores her, all of his focus poured on the man in front of him. "Bucky, what the Hell...?" he asks breathlessly,
The man looks at Steve with contempt. "I don't know what you're talking about," he responds, voice rusty and deep.
Steve's inhale is sharp as his confusion only grows. "Do you not know who I am?" he asks softly.
"No," Bucky responds, much harsher than necessary.
Steve takes a physical step back at the statement. There is obviously some sort of history with these two, but Amara has no idea what kind, or why this moment seems so heartbreaking for Steve.
"Steve, what's-?"
Before Amara can finish her sentence, the entire atmosphere surrounding them is pierced by a raucous scream. It echoes down the halls, the torment hidden inside pinging off the walls and bouncing around like ricocheting bullets.
Amara is shocked and confused for a split second before the revelation hits her.
She knows that voice. She knows that voice.
As she is trying to rationalize the situation in her mind, she notices Steve looking back and forth between Bucky and the exit hurriedly, conflicted. He soon sighs and bounds off in the direction of the scream, leaving her stricken and alone.
Bucky is looking at her sheepishly with his hands pressed over his ears, curling in on himself a bit. Her eyes wildly dart from him, to the hallway, to the floor, to her hands, and everywhere else they could possibly look.
She knows her options. She can only go in one of two directions.
She stands still for another single moment before fleeing away from the screams, walking as quickly as her current state will allow. Tears well in her eyes as she does so.
