"Corridor 3, clear."

My chains rattle and whoever holds me readjusts the catch pole.

"Report, multiple hostiles up a head, prepare Prisoner 279."

I want to grit my teeth at the name but the restriction masks covering my face stops me. I don't understand why they are going to such extreme to keep me contained. It pisses me off.

Natasha walks up to me, my eyes shoot towards her in agitation as she takes off the catch poles. Next, she removes the cuffs but leaves the bracelet on.

"Steve-," She says but an agent comes up to correct her.

"His essential name is Prisoner 279. I suggest you use it," He says and I gnaw at the guard separating my teeth, something to help alleviate all the pent up anger.

"With all do with my utmost non-existent respect for you…Fuck off, Agent Cole," Natasha says, never taking her eyes off me with a small reassuring squeeze on my wrist. She couldn't show it through her words, but she cared. I try to reciprocate but if I make direct contact with anyone other than the enemy I get punishment. Seems I was there bitch but to her, I was her equal. And the knowledge, it made me warm inside. With my head, I nod, only to her, my anger dissipating for the briefest of moments to show her that I cared too.

"If it were ever the worst time to be making googly eyes with your boyfriend, this is the worst. You wouldn't show this much disrespect with Agent Barton now would you?" Agent Cole interjects, nudging me in the back of the head with my catch pole. I make to move towards him but Natasha is more lithe and faster. She head-butts him, hard enough that he gets knocked on the ground.

The surrounding SHIELD soldiers tense at the situation but don't intervene. I look at her, eyes wide, but she doesn't seem affected, her face is emotionless. Shameless. For some reason I am glad she was my first.

"Steve, we need you to go in there, and beat the shit out of all of them. Got it?" I nod, wanting to smile but the mask restricts it. "We are going to be covering you."

I look at Agent Cole. She doesn't spare the bitch a glance.

"He will stay here and think about his life decisions. Don't get hurt…Or shot. Now, go," She says and pats my back lightly in the direction of where I need to go. Not that many soldiers, some armed, mainly side pieces. I can take that. I turn back towards her, watching her admonishingly as she began to take charge, stepping intentionally over Agent Cole's writhing body.

"I'm taking point."

. . . . .

I walk through the room, crouched, silently creeping to try and see the best advantage point. Alas, I can't find one. They all have their backs to the wall, eyeing the center of the room. I can't risk going out in the middle, I could get shot. Can't sneak up on them either.

I sigh and my bracelet shocks me. It hurts bad enough that I hit my face mask against the railing of the steps I crouch behind, alerting the soldier closets to me.

"Hey!" He aims his gun at me but before he could fire a shot the lights go out. Thank God for Natasha Romanoff. I shoot up, my hand shoving the barrel of the gun to the side before furiously shoving his head against the wall. He isn't dead. I am…relieved. But there isn't time to stand still. I move quickly, from man to man. It's swift and quick, I am conscious of the heavy metal encasing my wrist, it weighs me down, more than it actually is. I can feel the small pull of it towards every living enemy. Natasha had told me the bracelet had a list of my missions, with the small pull towards my objectives. I found it annoying and agitating.

Wrapping my arms around the last guy's throat I pulled my arms together, taking his breath away.

The lights immediately turn back on and my eyes adjust to the brightness. The SHIELD Agents and soldiers come into the room, analyzing my work, before turning back towards me. I stand there, breathing a little heavier than usual, arms useless against my side, and my bracelet buzzing like crazy to get back to my watchers. My eye catches the risen Agent Cole, who is proceeding towards me at a fast rate. I want to put my arms up but he, being the leader of the group had the remote and my catch pole. I knew it was coming when I saw the pole twist between his fingers, my eyes widen and they shoot towards Natasha before he starts to beat me with the pole, yelling at me to get down. That's the thing, I can't get down, he had ordered me to stand still and didn't withdrawal the order, therefore, I am stuck with a beating I don't deserve. She can't see it. I know she would've stopped it though if she did. She was too busy hacking into the central database computers to find camera footage of what happened on that hill top.

He's relentless and he orders me to be quiet, not to alert her. So, I close my eyes and just think of those eyes.

. . . . .

SHIELD University…

"Good morning class," Mr. Kelvin says and I make my way to the seat in the back, Natasha in tow. I hear her yawn behind me. I wish I could yawn, just to represent how tired I am getting of this monotonous bullshit. I've gotten to the point where I can't yawn. It's physically impossible. So instead, I walk through with a mask on my face, placing a fake smile on for my classmates, and laughing when someone tries to say something so desperately funny just to make light of the situation. I admire them but I can't feel the same. I can't feel their happiness when there is so much sadness corrupting me. No, Peggy had not been erased from my thoughts, she was the first thing on my mind, every morning before I forcedly shoved her back. Mourning was over, it was time for action.

Natasha and I took our seats, placing our bags to the side of our stools and getting to work on the project due by the end of the semester. It was funny, honestly. About six months ago, I sat next to her and had a pretty interesting conversation. Never knew it would lead me here, sitting next to her as mutual partners and friends. I would consider us. I wouldn't consider us anything less; we've been through so much that it would literally be unreal if we weren't. I wanted more. I didn't know what but my emotions and thoughts when it came to her was so conflicted, like a war was rumbling deep down inside my heart. I wish I could sort it out. Unclench my heart from the unrelenting grasp of life.

"Mr. Rogers, any ideas…?" Mr. Kelvin walked up towards me, eyes flashing quickly towards the bracelet wrapped around my wrist. Fear. My head tilted to the side involuntarily.

"Uh, no, not yet, sir," I shake my head, closing my eyes for the briefest of moments as to come back down to Earth," Been kind of busy, sir."

He scoffed, amused," No shit."

My head turns to him and I feel the pull of the bracelet, forcing me from any sorts of violence against people inside the school.

"No offense, Steven," He shook his head and held his hands up in defense," Pulling your leg..."

He placed his hand on my shoulder and I flinched back, the bruise still there. Natasha's eyes shoot towards me. I try to regain whatever semblance I had, my reigns. Flashes of a red-faced man, crossed through my mind, and I felt slightly dizzy. Something was coming. And I knew damn well it was coming for me.

"Sorry, sir, just pulled something there." It's a terrible lie but he nods nonetheless, knowing I just want to be rid of this awkward encounter. "Still…a little…sensitive…"

I sigh," Can I-I go to the bathroom?"

"Yeah, for sure."

I shoot up from my seat, knocking it over. I mutter an apology and make my way towards the communal. I can feel him. Feel his skin. Feel his blood coursing through me. Feel all the behavioral modifications fighting my conscious. It's almost blinding, honestly, dissuading me from walking straight. The walk to the bathroom was difficult on its own, almost knocking into some guy with red goggles on. Some Scott guy, didn't matter though when I tried to splash some water on my face. It wasn't enough. It felt like my skin was setting ablaze, his blood fueling the fire and his behavior modification being the fire. It hurt. Burned. And my skin felt like it was charring. So, quickly, I turned on the water in the shower and stepping him. The cold water, felt amazing, nulling the pain to point where I could bare it. And it wasn't just that. It was the fact that it was amplifying the pain of my fading bruises. Alice James once said Physical pain however great ends in itself and falls away like dry husks from the mind, whilst moral discords and nervous horrors sear the soul. I can't help but feel that utterly true. My wounds would heal but it will always leave a scar.

"Hey, this is the men's lock-!" Someone shouts and the door slams hard against the wall.

"Get out," A familiar female voice demanded and I sigh. I hear a gear shift and I know she's locked the door to before her shoes start smacking against the floor, whilst approaching me. She rounds the corner of the stall and is taken aback by the sight of me sitting on the tile, one leg folded underneath the other, water pouring down my head and soaking my clothes. I'm curious as to what she is going to do. I know she isn't going to get herself but contrary to popular belief I am not always right. She doesn't hesitate when she steps in the water fully clothed. She looks me over, analyzing me through the shower of water flowing so greedily down our faces. She looks so beautiful; her hair ignited by the steely grey tile surrounding us, her eyes which are so green seemed to be like an island in the flood of water running water. I drink her in and before I know I get drunk, reaching out my hand I grasp the base of her jaw, feeling it flex with surprise at my touch, before latching my lips onto her own. She reacts immediately, hands bracing themselves against my chest. Her hands are cold, icy like, but it feels good mixed with the cool water. I swipe my tongue on her bottom lip, asking for an entrance and when she gives it to me I strain my neck to get a better angle. I feel a little odd. I feel hot, the burning sensation replaced with heat.

"Steve…," It comes out as a rasp when our lips detach to suck in a good amount of air before diving back in. She's pushing against my chest but I'm too high to realize such. Too high to feel the small sparks of electricity against my wrist. She pushes harder and I move my lips down to her jaw, then her neck.

"Steve," She says it more sternly this time but not before her breath hitches when my teeth scrap against the joint between her shoulder and neck. "The bracelet."

That catches my attention and brings me out of whatever drug induced haze I was in. We are in a very dangerous situation. She can't give me an order to stop. I am not to make direct contact. Water. Electricity. Combined. Makes me a dead man. She fishes the controller out of her pocket before hovering it over the bracelet; I tense, waiting for the sensation of a million needles pinching me. It doesn't come. The bracelet snaps off, the red light switching to green. A sigh of relief escapes me but it distracts me for a good amount of time for her to pull the sleeve down on my shoulder, revealing it bare. I flinch back but she catches, and I want to leave her grasp cause I can feel the tiny drops of water hitting the tender spot.

"He did this, didn't he?" I don't respond. Just look away. "Forced you into being quiet? Told you to kneel when he forced you to stand; therefore, making it seem as if you were disobeying his orders."

She was telling herself more than me, trying to go over what she missed. She's scolding herself, blaming herself. I can feel it when her grasp on me loosens.

"When? How?" She asks, gaze never leaving my shoulder.

"Doesn't mat-," I can't finish.

"Answer the damn question, Rogers," She demands. I hear it in her voice. She's hurting, as if my own wounds were inflicted upon her.

"Yesterday when you were in the other room, finishing the mission," I sigh and she shakes her head.

"…How?" It's a quiet question and I know she knows the answer. She just wants me to say it.

I wait for a moment, breathing in heavily," The, uh, catch pole."

She shoots to her feet," Son of a bitch," her intent is written across her face like words. In very big letters. Before she can make it out the shower I snatch her wrist. I can feel her anger. I could measure up to it too. But it's…beautiful. Her pulse, underneath my fingertips beats with a slight rapidness, her face is emotionless but I can see the cracks, the twitch of her eye lash, the cute little upturn of her nose in a fraction of a snarl, and a small wrinkle decorating her forehead with hurt meant for me. I smile at her, it's small but it's reassuring. Other than her anger I feel her hesitance. She wants to stay. She's fighting herself, her instincts are fighting her heart. And it amazes me to see that she cares so much. She wants to defend me but she also wants to stay with me. I must say it is a challenging decision. So, I make it for her. I kneel before her, wet hair falling uselessly against my forehead, before rising. Her focus doesn't waver from me. I don't waver from her either. Even if I tried I couldn't look away from her. I tilt her chin up with my index finger. She has her wall up and I know I'm not ready yet either. I slide my hand up her neck, cupping her jaw, it's softer than before, without the dangers of intoxication and inebriation. She begins to shake her head and miraculously I can see her. Her.

"Just one," She says, it's a rasp and if I wasn't super-human I wouldn't have been able to hear it.

I nod, hesitant,"…Just one."

She, on the other hand, doesn't hesitate. She goes full force, placing her lips on mine, clutching a fist full of my wet shirt. I weave my fingers through her wet hair, pushing it behind her ear. This is it. My moment of peace through my never ending war. An island in the flood. Her lips are sweet, like the strongest drink but the sweetest taste. I try to drink her up as much as I could in the shortest of time. She doesn't let it last, even if I'm clutching onto her for dear life and she's pulling me impossibly closer with both fist lost in my shirt. She turns her face away, my lips chasing after her own.

"Nuh uh," She says and that fist in my shirt turns into her palms, pushing me against the shower tile until my warm back hits the cool wall. She turns around, bends down, tempting me, and grabs the bracelet.

"No," I say, I've gotten a taste of freedom and I don't want to let go.

"Yes," She says and holds it uselessly on her index finger, expecting me to put it on. No thanks.

"How about we get a silver bracelet from the nearest store, get a little paint and tape, and get on with life," I sag against the wall with hope that she might care about me enough to do so. That's the thing though; she cares about me enough not to get me in a heap of shit. She smiles a little, her eyes flickering to my lips before turning back to my eyes. She looks a little more questioning than before and approaches me slowly. I know her game. I've been studying it ever since I met her. I study her for a bit, the delicious way she bites her lip, her eyes blown with desire, her cheeks slightly flushed with arousal. I can see it. And I can hear the monotonous beat of her heart. Bump…Bump…Bump.

I'm entranced by her. And I can't possibly deny her. Hesitantly, and a little regretful, I hold out my arm. She smiles happily at me and slaps the bracelet on my wrist. I sigh. My chance of freedom diminishes quickly. And I look down at the item of my despair. It distracts me enough to not see her come up to me in a flash of lightning and place her lips on the very corner of my lips. And without another look towards me she leaves.

. . . . .

I toss the blank canvas to the side of my cell along with my bag. Useless, I sigh. I have a meeting with Fury and the division team from last night to go over the mission. I don't want to though. Can't necessarily say I regret it either.

My wet shoes squish against the linoleum floors of my cell as I strip myself of my wet clothes and throw them to the ground in a wet heap. Someone would come by and get them later. I honestly didn't know what to do now. Working on the art project was a no. Working out was a most definite no. I'm tired. Tired of everything, honestly. I just want a break from reality for a bit.

"279, you have visitors," The guard sighed. I shook my head before quickly putting on some dry clothes. The sound of multiple footsteps echo through the quiet corridors of the prison, my ears perk and rise at the sound. It's odd, the halls are usually so quiet with silent grief, a void of emptiness was more fitting.

"Hello, Sir Steven," Thor greets me first, multitudes of baskets filled with fruit, books, coloring books, and all sorts of entertainment. I am curious as if when this was allowed before the rest begin to greet me. Darcy and Buck are hanging close, big bright, tainted smiles on their face. Jane is next to them, card in hand. T'Challa is leaning against one of the posts, nothing but a natural swagger about him. Sam is chill next to Thor, helping keep the fruit and other miscellaneous items in the big basket.

I can't help but smile at the sight of them," Hey guys, what's all this?"

"A gift, dumbass. What does it look like?" Sam interjects with a small smirk, his frustrations clear with trying to keep the shit in the small basket. I smile at them, grabbing the multitudes of items from them and placing them in the room.

"Thanks."

"We'd love to hang out but there's a mandatory meeting we got to go," My face immediately turned into something of disappointment but I nodded nonetheless.

"Yeah, course, see you guys later."

They soon left, the guard escorting them out. Steve lent against the force field for a moment, taking in and cherishing the moment he just had.

Things, things were looking good.

Elsewhere. . .

"He's being persuaded by the red head, you can easily see the admiration in his eyes when he looks at her. He killed Goliath for her."

Johann thought that over for a brief moment, never turning away from the footage of Steve and Natasha walking to the lunch room. His vision grew teary, disappointment clouding his head with the knowledge of betrayal.

"What is your decision, sir?"

He waited a moment, hand coming to cover his mouth, and a tear produces itself from his eye which violently turn red.

". . .Take her. . . Take her from him. I am done waiting on him."