Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
••••••••••
JANUARY 2ND, 1996
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO me," Cynthia whispered when she saw daylight streaming through the windows of the room her cage was in.
"You know, Owen, you would think that at thirty-four I'd have my life figured out," Cynthia told Owen, leaning up against the bars. "I wouldn't be where I am now. Or, if my father hadn't died the night he had, I would perhaps be dead. Or, if I hadn't woken Bucky up from his Winter Soldier mode, I'd be dead."
"You don't look thirty-four," Owen replied, and Cynthia laughed, and replied, "Well, when you're young and dumb like me, and you burn your hormones so then you can't age, then I guess that puts me at a nice looking age."
Owen laughed, looking away from her. "How old are you, anyway, Owen?" Cynthia asked, reaching through the bars and poking his armored arm. "I've always been curious, since we've been . . . Hanging out for so long."
Owen chuckled. "I'm twenty-six."
Nodding, Cynthia stepped away from the bars, pulling on the long sleeved jumper she had been given, thanks to John. With it being winter, she would be getting hypothermia from the cold if she was just in those panties and tank top. So, he demanded that she had a jumper that was fleece.
Cynthia lied down on her bed as she looked at the increased amount of guards. Ever since her . . . Outburst the month before, she had an increased amount of guards watching her every move.
✦✦✦✦✦
"ALL CLEAR!"
The cage's door opened up, guards piling in.
And then, faster than they could blink, Cynthia was on top of one of them, her legs wrapped around their neck, and she was throwing them to the floor. She grabbed the gun out of their hand, Cynthia seethed, "Stop."
All guns aimed at her, Beck and Owen put their hands up, pausing the other guards. "Cynthia, get off the guard. Hand Beck the gun. You have a visitor."
Cynthia's head shot up, and she said, "Excuse me?"
"Agent Peggy Carter, she's here to see you." Cynthia's eyes narrowed, and she said, "Bullshit. No one would visit me if I was in HYDRA."
Was she in HYDRA? Was she considered a prisoner, or worse, a member?
"I wouldn't lie to you, Cynthia," Owen said calmly, and Beck reached over, grabbing the gun from Cynthia's hand, and she screamed, "Give it back!"
Cynthia looked down at the now unconscious guard, and said, "If you're going to take me from my cell for some stupid visit, then you're going to have to drag me."
Owen and Beck looked at each other, and then grabbed Cynthia by the arms and legs. It was harder, with Cynthia bucking and screeching, flailing her arms and legs around in their grip, trying to get away as they led her down a different hallway—one she hadn't been down before.
Was Peggy truly here to visit her? And if so, why?
They carried her down the hallway, each turn making Cynthia feel queasy. What if they had lied, and Peggy wasn't here. What if they had lied, and it was just some random person? Oh god . . . What if Millie had purposefully mixed herself up in this mess just to see Cynthia?
When they finally arrived to the small room, Cynthia was set on the ground, and she looked at the empty room. "Liars, no one's here," Cynthia said, turning to look at the two men, who, in response, just closed the door. Groaning and turning back to the table, she took a seat in one of the two chairs set out, and another door in the corner of the room opened, Peggy walking out.
Cynthia's mouth dropped, and she said, "Agent Carter, I didn't expect you to—"
"I know, but I'm in the process of trying to get you out of here," Peggy said, cutting off Cynthia's sentence.
"What—You want to rescue me?" Cynthia asked, and Peggy nodded in response, replying, "It would seem one of our new agents, Miss Millie Johnston is quite desperate to get you out."
Cynthia shook her head, rubbing her face, and replied, "She's been my best friend for years now. It would make sense if she wanted me out."
"But," Peggy started, "What doesn't make sense to me is that you've worked with HYDRA before, you helped The Winter Soldier all those years . . . Why?"
Cynthia chewed on her lip before responding a moment later. "At that time, that man . . . He was all I knew. I had just gotten freedom, after he'd killed my father and tried to kill me, so when he showed up in my apartment two years later, I did a stupid, reckless thing and agreed to help him. It was supposed to be a one time thing—"
"But it continued on," Peggy interrupted, "I think I recall you telling me that, Cynthia. Your history will not change any of that, Cynthia, but I am determined to get you out for your family."
"What is that going to cost you?" Cynthia asked, and Peggy shook her head, replying, "That's what we're trying to figure out. But, you'll be free from HYDRA soon enough, okay? Soon enough."
✦✦✦✦✦
That had been a month ago—but Cynthia still held out hope that she would be broken free from her cage.
Her new home.
And in the most disturbing way . . . Cynthia honestly dreaded the day she would part with it. It had become her home; her refuge; the only place she could feel calm.
