A/N: I do not own Wonderwall, that's Oasis' song. Also, if you want, the Wonderwall cover by Jaymie Debboucherville is what i was listening to for this chapter. Just so you guys know. Now here it is! Thanks again for reading and for the continued support! <3 <3 ~A2V~
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“Bucky,” Steve said, it had been two days since Val’s kidnapping, “Bud, we need you to think, where would they hide her?”
“I don’t know, Steve,” Bucky said helplessly, his eyes scanning the skies outside the window of Stark’s lab. Tony was on his computer, tracking what signal he could from the message Vanguard had sent Barnes, while Banner was scanning all types of cameras around the world for face matches of both Val and the Vanguard.
Natasha was calling in all her contacts from her previous missions, trying to get a clue as to where they were holding her friend, while Clint was out walking Diana.
“Sir,” JARVIS’ voice filled the lab, “There’s an incoming transmission for Sgt. Barnes.”
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Meanwhile,
Val sat in the cell she was put in; it looked like a bank vault, except that there was a small, slightly comfortable bed nailed against the wall, a table and chair on the other end, a stall of a bathroom in the back, and fist marks in the walls. She was on the bed, leaning against the wall, still in her torn dress. There was a familiar feeling about the cell. She knew she had never been there before, but there was a familiarity to it she couldn’t put her finger on.
For the past two days all she did was pace around the cell like a caged animal, she didn’t sleep, she ate what little they gave her, but aside from that she just sat down on the small chair and stayed awake. Fatigue was setting in, and she lightly traced a fist-shaped dent on the wall beside her. This cell held someone extremely strong once. The walls were made of steel, and the dent was deep and perfectly shaped…
She sat up and looked at the dent again, spreading her palm over it to cover the whole thing; she imagined how that fist would feel in her palm; heavy, strong, extremely familiar. She fisted her own hand and put it inside the dent, it wrapped around her fist like a cold blanket. Val blinked, no, it couldn’t be. She sniffed the air, there were faint scents of the previous occupant, but they were too faint to place. She lay face down on the pillow on the bed and took a deep breath. It was still faint, but it was strong enough for her to place it now. When her brain processed it, she felt tears form in her eyes, and she sat up and hugged the pillow close to her chest, burying her face into it.
This was James’ cell. That was why it was so familiar, it was his scent that lingered everywhere, and his metal fist was what caused the dents in the steel walls. This was where he was put after she found him. Val felt cold all of a sudden, and she willed her wings out of her shoulders, wrapping them around her like a cloak. She lied down on the bed, still clutching the pillow and hid her face behind it. She let the tears flow, until she could get a hold of herself again. Then she took a nap.
*BANG BANG BANG*
Val startled awake, her hands going straight to her bangles. When she realized it was the door, she willed her wings back in.
“Cherie,” Vanguard said from the other side of the door, “I am coming inside,” and with that warning the door opened to reveal Garret St. Clair in his usual Kevlar vest, black shirt, cargo pants and combat boots. He grinned at her death glare and the way she clutched the pillow, “I see you have figured out whose cell this was once, oui?”
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