Chris Evans/Sebastian Stan Characters One-Shots and Imagines

Willing Fugitive (Pt. 2)

(Warnings: Mentions of rape/being a victim of, PTSD)

The last real positive human interaction I've received in the last two months was my attorney hugging me and wishing me luck before I whisked off by six guards to hell.

I never thought prison would be this bad. Granted they sent me to one of those private ones that has a reputation for being a pit of more crime. Within the first week, I had already been thrown against a wall, stripped on my clothes, and violated. And now it happened nightly. At first, I would shiver in a corner after all that went on. It was frightening. Now I was able to sit not in a corner, still shivering in the middle of my cell. I still threw up all my food though. You could practically see my ribs at this point.

My hair was ratty, we only showered once a week. And you had a 1/25 chance of not getting violated again by the guards. But one of us would while showering. I hadn't really met anyone kind. Everyone was a loner, which sucked. So I spent my days lost in thought, in impossible dreams.

I couldn't sleep. I would get about an hour a day. The bags under my eyes really emphasized that. But tonight was different.  I was so tired I crashed, I didn't even care if anything happened anymore. I just felt nothing but disgust. We were all woken in the middle of the night though by loud alarms and flashing lights. None of us knew what the hell was going on. I saw guards fleeing past my cell, but both fell to the ground after two loud gunshots sounded. "Cell 244" I heard a familiar voice say. That was my cell. I crawled up as I heard my cell door break. "Y/N?" I heard someone call.

"Yeah?" I mumbled out, their bright lights hurting my eyes considering I hadn't seen any real light in months. I saw a familiar figure standing there before I realized who it was. Steve, I thought.

"Doll." He ran up to me in disbelief and attempted to hug me but I immediatly pushed away. He back away, unexpectantly, but told me we had to go. I followed him around a few corners and bends, limping a little on what I assumed to be a sprained ankle from a few weeks back. Once we got to the jet I hopped on and we flew away.

"Oh, Sweetie!" I heard Nat come running. She let me lean on her as I limped to the table in the back for medical help. Once I got up she immediatly began examining my foot. No one said anything. It was silence. I lightly looked up and saw Steve with his head in his hands, shaking it.

"Could you see if Banner could help her?" Sam asked from behind.

"I could reach out to him, I have no clue where he is," Nat admitted.

"We'll go back to T'Challa," Steve said, "I think she's going to need some real medical attention." He sighed.

"How're you feeling?" Nat asked as she put a hand on my face which I immediatly pushed away. She seemed a little shocked.

"Uh- so-sorry." I said, "O-okay." I responded.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She asked.

"May-maybe la-la-later." I kept stuttering. She nodded and led me to a private small bedroom on the jet while Sam rerouted us to wherever this T'Challa dude was. After 20 minutes of sitting alone and thanking everything I could for getting out of there. Steve came in. And the silent tension grew.

"Hi." He remarked.

"H-Hi." I said back. He sighed.

"Are you doing any better." He asked, looking down at my iced ankle. I wouldn't tell anyone except him, so I shook my head. He took a seat next to me but refrained from touching me. "Do you want to tell me?" I sighed.

"I-if I did you w-would probably rip this jet in half." I admitted and he lightly chuckled. Damn, how I missed his laugh.

"Okay." He said, "I'll leave you here then." he said getting up and walking out of the room. I ended up laying down and pulling a spare blanket over me before falling asleep.