When Steve saved her, he didn't think he would grow so attached. When Steve left her, she didn't think she'd survive.
(AU themes)
Steve x OC. Eventual Bucky X OC.
18+.
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Quiet and reserved, heart hammering and gaze fixated on the floor. That's how Janie sat in the living area of the Avengers facility when everyone, including the man she dreaded facing most of all, was briefed on the situation that lay in front of them. She felt his eyes burning on her the entire time, a sensation that sent tingles through her spine, causing her body to tremble in fear. He longed to speak to her, hold her in his arms as if she'd never left, but all she hoped was for him to have moved on. The idea of him sitting around, waiting for her to return was one she'd rather not think about, yet unbeknownst to her, that's exactly what he'd been doing all along.
His teammates had long grown tired of Steve's continuous sulking. The sad glances, curt responses and overall negative attitude he seemed to now permanently carry with him upset them, because trying to pull him out of the downward spiral felt like beating a dead horse; even Wanda stopped trying to search his mind when all she could hear was Steve's thoughts of self-hatred and pity. Nat had to stop him from bailing on them more times than she could count, including the two times she had to chloroform him and drag him back to the motel they'd rented for the evening with great effort and annoyance.
"It's time to gear up," Natasha spoke, "Are you okay?"
When Janie finally dared to look up from the clammy hands folded messily in her lap, she noticed the room had cleared. Even Steve, who'd been standing against the door frame earlier with his arms crossed over his chest had disappeared, sending a jolt of guilt through the girl still seated in the leather armchair. She blinked and nodded, rising finally with reluctance. Natasha wanted to say something, but the gnarly atmosphere still hung in the room like a heavy cloud of smoke fueled by tension thick enough that one could almost physically see it. Instead, she kept her mouth shut, offering only a pitiful smile and a soft shoulder squeeze that did nothing to ease the pain. Then, when she finally did speak, the only words that left her mouth were the directions Janie needed to the room in which she could gather herself.
She stalked through the hallway, allowed half an hour to take a brisk shower and get changed into her gear before all of them were supposed to meet outside. With heavy steps, Janie ascended a flight of stairs that led into another hallway, which was again deserted. No key was needed to open the door to room number 7. The finger pad somehow recognized her thumbprint, turning the screen from red to green upon a single touch, allowing her to open the door, which slid seamlessly into the adjacent wall.
Her gear was laid out on the bed, a navy blue tactical suit that looked like Natasha's without the buckles, and a pair of boots that sat on the floor in front of it. She wondered briefly what Steve was doing, whether he was thinking of her or not, but the thoughts didn't satisfy the curiosity she inevitably held inside. Instead, they only fueled her guilt. She looked down at her bare feet when her thoughts took her to the dreams she had of pulling the trigger and noticed remnants of cherry red nail polish showing on her toes, which she wiggled inside the neon orange flip-flops she wore.
