DISENTHRALL | james b. barnes

[ Another Interlude. . . ]

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A   D A N C E

Context:
Lucy is left out of a HYDRA mission after the Avengers realize it's a trap. Left to her own devices, she looks through music she's missed. If Henry walks in on her and decides to join her, well, that's its own problem.

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[ this is an apology post for not updating in so long. I've finished 17/30 chapters from my own book, and I plan to publish when I've written 20, so it's coming soon. But anyway, I will try to actually update soon! ]

Avengers Compound, New York
November, 2016

LUCY MISSED MANY THINGS in her time with HYDRA, yet she'd never found an interest or desire to search for the experiences which flew past her. She was indifferent to it all, and she'd rather look towards the future than the past. She found it a blatant waste of time, analyzing the history which unveiled lies and tales HYDRA chose to spin. So Lucy had missed many things, and she had never chose to seek what these things consisted of.

But people changed just as time did, and with the overwhelming boredom threatening to drown her–well, Lucy was more than inclined to look through the past. She came to that particular conclusion hours after the Avengers went on a mission without her. HYDRA wanted her back, more than they did Winter, and whether or not James was jealous of the fact didn't matter.

They both avoided the complex emotions they held towards the people and organization which tormented them.

So James, in all his wonderful glory, assured her that he would be fine as long as she stayed here. He would rather be the one killing the HYDRA agents since he very much desired revenge against them. And, to Lucy's relief, he understood she did not want such things. She wanted time to use for herself, and for him.

In the end, she found herself in the living room area of the compound, a broad space with a little bar and a broad kitchen. It was open, and comfortably warm, while also having a reasonable amount of windows. She could protect herself if she needed to, and no one really had the chance of sneaking up on her.

Her hands were busy folding James's laundry while a playlist of 1970's music, played in German. Her first language was no longer as familiar as it once was, mostly because she didn't practice it much anymore. But the gentle tones playing from the compound speakers made her heart flutter with warmth–with familiarity.

She knew this language like the back of her hand. It reminded her of home, of times before she ever became Verfall. Of times when she was free and ignorant of the dangers the world possessed. And it was a good kind of reminder– a good feeling.

She carefully moved from folding laundry to cleaning and polishing the collection of knives she and James shared. It was tedious work, but something for her to concentrate on. She didn't want to be completely swallowed by boredom, so she worked slowly, and steadily.

Hours passed.

The knives were cleaned and the laundry placed in their rooms. Lucy was sitting on the couch with music still playing, arms crossed over her chest. She was sinking into the cushions beneath her with a long sigh. The TV was on too, playing a Netflix series–something about Stranger Things? Every so often she'd skip past the scene with what the character Eleven referred to as the Bad Men. The old guy reminded her too much of Pierce, and she didn't need dreams about that.