Hellfire▹w.s.|✔[Wattys2016]

SIX

[A/N: I'm going to die writing this chapter. Also, v important question at the end of this! Please read it. Also, all the words in italics towards the end-speech, of course, is in Russian. I was too lazy to look up the translations.]

FORCED INTO a capsule similar to that of the Winter Soldier's, the Archangel sat calmly, refusing to meet they eyes of anyone but James. They were close together, but their captors were much too smart to put them in the same capsule. Much too smart, unfortunately for her. She had tried to teleport multiple times, only to be sucked back into her own body by some technology that managed to ground her.

He had only spoken once, to her, of course, very softly, blue orbs cast somewhere far away.

"You don't have to do this, Arch-don't have to be here, don't have to work for anyone. I know you, I know how you were-how you are," he whispered, knowing only she would be able to hear. The Archangel had only offered a small smile in response-a fake one, her lips barely curling and the ends of her eyes remaining velvet smooth.

"I chose to come here, James-Soldier. I chose this."

"You never got a choice, Archangel. And neither did I."

The Soldier gulped non-visibly, brown hair covering the half of his face that she could see. "You were sweet, before. Powerful, not like you are now. I remember you. You weren't in any museums-you should've been, none of us would be alive if you hadn't been there," the man began, head moving constantly as if he was trying to find something to look at. Anything but her. The Archangel didn't respond, her heart only racing in the cage of her ribs, confined to the space for eternity.

"On-on the Potomac, when Captain-Steve, when Steve said my name, I remembered two people. I remember him, and you," the Soldier stated, softly, trying to piece his words together in a way that made sense. The Archangel only shook her head-there was never a before, she had always been the Archangel. She had never been a human-born to be what she was, a weapon, a warrior. An angel sent by Hydra to save the world from itself.

"I know you don't believe me," he added, after a moment. "But I would never lie to you-Whoever I was, back then-he cared about you. And who I am now-I'm not the Soldier you were sent here, for, Arch, but I'm not him. But I care, too. And I think you understand that, even if you don't remember me, don't remember the missions," he murmured, glancing over at her from time to time. Her dark eyes couldn't focus on one thing-what he was saying couldn't be true, could it? Hydra had warned her the soldier would try to sow the seeds of disobedience into her mind, to avoid capture, to make her rebel as she had. With a pained groan, she tugged again at the metal cuffs again. An agonizing shock lit her body aflame, and she sunk back into the chair, defeated.

"I'll be punished for this," she muttered to herself, wrist twitching involuntarily. James glanced over at her, face grim. "You don't deserve to be punished," he responded almost immediately, as if on instinct. "Солат," she pleaded, dark eyes hooded. "Солатка," the man responded just as evenly, blue eyes questioning. After a moment, she released a frustrated huff. "Of course I do," she retorted. "I got caught. I'm in the system; it'll be harder for me to do missions now." The dark-haired man's eyebrows furrowed, the ends of his lips turning downward in a slight frown. But he didn't speak in response.

"T'Challa and I met years ago," she murmured after a moment, having a vague idea of the Soldier's thoughts. "I was on a mission in Wakanda-level 3 target, always armed-but cocky. That was my advantage. The King was with him, when I came. Sitting in his home, drinking tea. The Black Panther tore into me with his claws-I almost died, but he left an opening. I shot my mission in the head while the King threw me out a window."