Little Talks

Chapter 2

Sorry for the terribly long hiatus for those of you subscribed! I posted many more chapters of this on fanfiction.net, but never got around to uploading them here. I'll post them for good measure just in case you don't prefer to read on that site! Keep in mind this was written a few years ago, just after Age of Ultron had come out. 

And thanks for the love on this so far!

-2. 'I don't like wandering around this old and empty house'/ 'So hold my hand I'll walk with you my dear'

It was the first time Jamie had even tried to sleep since the Insight carriers had gone down.

Sure, it had been several weeks. But whatever HYDRA had done to her, whenever they had done it, she could go long—no, extremely long periods of time without needing rest. Since it was something constant in her memories, she assumed it had been one of the first things they had done; but there was no way to be sure.

It didn't really matter. All that mattered was the fact that while she assumed most of the Tower's residents were slumbering in varying levels of peace, Jamie was lying in the bedroom that Tony Stark had given her, staring up at the plain white ceiling and listening to the noise of the city outside.

The Tower was soundproofed, but she'd chosen to sleep with her large window open. After being cryofrozen so many times, she didn't like being shut in small spaces, in the dark. At least when the noise came in, when the lights and the smells and the breeze came in, she knew she was still alive. Awake. Not forced into a state of unconsciousness she didn't want. She hardly felt the cold, anyway.

After lying there atop her blankets for three hours and twenty seven minutes (by the alarm clock on her night-table), she let out a long sigh. Regardless of her exhaustion her mind kept spiraling in circles, searching for scraps of memories poking out from the dark void of confusion in her head. Every now and then, a tiny glimmer of a scene would pop through, showing her something that may or may not have been true.

The only recurring thought in her mind was of Steve. Most of her memories seemed to have him in them—though, a different version of him, as it was; a smaller, frailer form of Steve, whom she had actually...protected? Or was that just her mind toying with the events from the carrier?

It would be impossible to know until she spoke to him. Up to that point, her private interactions with Steve had either been brief or instructional.

Jamie had been held in custody for a few days with minimal human contact, which was more comforting than lonely from her perspective. At least there wasn't somebody toying with her head. She had eventually been briefed by several CIA agents who didn't seem to know what to do with her, after which point she had been taken from the facility by Steve, who was fresh out of the hospital.

She had been escorted out to a waiting black car, where she'd seen the redhead for (what she'd assumed was) the first time. The woman had offered her a level "Hello" before opening the back door for her. Jamie, squinting against the fading light of evening, had merely nodded uncertainly in response and looked to Steve. He had gestured towards the door as if approving the idea, so she'd done as she'd been ordered and climbed into the dark interior, gritting her teeth against the pain in her bionic arm. She could tell something was wrong with it, ever since she'd fallen from the carrier it had been malfunctioning. Water really did a number on it.

The ride to the Tower had been quiet, with minimal conversation between the two in the front seat. Jamie could sense the redhead casting glances back at her in the rearview mirror, and had actually caught Steve looking at her several times in the exterior mirror of the passenger door. He'd smiled at her, but had looked away after her eyes had only wrinkled in confusion. How could he be so kind, after all she'd done to him? They must have been very close, for there to be that kind of unspoken forgiveness.