nightcathedral | Hydrogen in our veins, it cannot hold itself, our blood is boiling...

She takes a deep breath, steadying herself through that little contact, and manages to let some of the tension bleed away as she breathes out. "You're right. I shouldn't let her get under my skin like this..."

She nods as she finishes setting out the food, balling up the bag and walking to the kitchen to toss it in the trash. "Those should be mostly from since you arrived here, so if there's anything you'll recognize, chances are it's in there."

Mostly since he arrived. He exhales, helping himself to both a pile of noodles and a stack of files. These are never pleasant reading. Not that he's unused to unpleasant reading. Once upon a time he told Fury he doubted anything would surprise him any more - he's learned in more ways than he'd like that isn't true.

The first few are comparatively tame fare. Someone merged with a dog, someone else whose consciousness got transferred to a pond who was drowning people in an attempt to reclaim a body. It isn't until he hits fourth plate of food and his eighth file that he stops.

His chopsticks slide out of his fingers and bounce off the edge of his plate to the floor.

Olivia's quickly absorbed in her reading, frowning slightly to herself as she scans the files and makes notes to herself, only occasionally remembering there's food and taking a few bites before she's distracted again.

Her head snaps up at the sound of Steve's chopsticks hitting the floor. She sets her own file down, glancing from Steve's face to the file and back.

"...Steve? Is something wrong?"

"Screamers." The word sticks like chalk to his tongue.

Steve sets the file down, pushing it across the table toward Olivia, trying to touch it as little as possible. They're an old nightmare. One of his. And of all the horrible things he's seen and read about from the other side, he never, never actually expected anything familiar.

"Arnim Zola's psychics." Breathe. Remember to breathe, remember you're not in an underground lab with your friends at the mercy of a lunatic. "During th- During the Second World War, one of Hydra's scientists experimented with... well, with a lot of things. He conditioned peoples' emotions away, gave them mechanical limbs, tried to make them more like machines. It was his way of improving the human design."

What Steve thinks of that is clear in his tone. He fists his hands on the table. "One of his... projects..." Steve nods at the folder. "It's them. It's those. I fought them."

Olivia reaches over to take the file gently, skimming it between repeated concerned glances at Steve. It's easy to forget sometimes that his world was - is? - on occasion as bizarrely horrific as her own, and the haunted look on his face drives the realization home so hard it almost hurts.

She swallows hard and sets the file down, on her far side from Steve, where she'll be sure to remember it later. "We always thought you and I couldn't be the only things crossing between your universe and ours..."

"No. But if it had to be something, I don't-" He grimaces. "I don't see why it had to be them."

The smile he flashes her way is half reassuring and half tired. "Not what I'd pick, but I'm not as creative or as sadistic as fate seems to be."

Next file. Except now he can't focus. He keeps looking back at the one at Olivia's side, worrying over who or what else might have fallen through the cracks between the multiverse.

"If I knew the answer to that, I think I'd lose a lot less sleep at night," she sighs, grimacing as she scribbles a note to herself to look into this, see if the other side has any more information on these things, ask Walter if he has any theories...

Except a part of her is sure she already knows what Walter's likely to say. These things only started showing up on the other side after she went to Steve's universe, the file's clear on that. Which means chances are good she did this, punching a hole between the universes the same way Walter did with his son all those years ago.

Olivia tries to focus on the file she was reading before, but it keeps blurring in front of her eyes as thoughts of Steve's universe worry at her. She keeps glancing over at Steve, a little guiltily - until she looks over and spots Steve looking at the file beside her, and she smiles a little sheepishly at the realization that they've both been doing more or less the same thing just now.

"You think maybe we should take a break?"

He catches her glance when he looks over and grins, his expression matching her own. "Maybe, yeah."

It's strange to have someone around who catches him... well, being Himself at things. He flips his current file shut and stretches. "I have ice cream, provided you've actually eaten."

Olivia sets her own file on top of the box before getting to her feet, taking her plate and chopsticks with her.

"Ice cream sounds great. So..." They need to talk about something that's not a case or either of the other universes. Something normal. It should probably worry her that it's so hard to think of anything that qualifies. "What have you been up to all day? Whatever it is, it had to be better than driving all day to meet up with your evil twin."

...she is so bad at this.

Steve has to cover his mouth to keep from laughing. It takes him a few seconds to get himself under control enough to answer.

"Olivia, don't. We - just don't. I don't think we could sustain what most people call an average conversation for more than five seconds at most."

He gets up to stack the rest of the dishes, trusting her to find her way both to bowls and the ice cream. Not as though she's never been here before.

Steve dumps the dishes in the sink and starts to turn - but there is an Olivia at the cupboards, and he has to catch himself to stop from running into her. Too busy thinking about that file to pay attention to his surroundings. Sloppy.

Except he's not stepping back, despite the fact that she's inches from him, and the last time he was voluntarily this close to a woman -

The last time he was this close to a woman, he was kissing Peggy Carter goodbye.

He looks down, resting a hand on her waist, waiting to see if she pulls away. He won't do more than that, he won't so much as suggest it, but. But. Steve holds his breath. Probably he's being incredibly stupid. Probably he's going to owe and apology in about five seconds.

Olivia starts a little as she turns and finds Steve so close to her, but it's just a momentary surprise - she recovers quickly, and once she does...

She doesn't back away or move to step around him, duck her head and apologize and sidestep like she would normally. Not with the way he's looking at her, something in his expression that makes her go still and hold her breath like she's afraid she might scare him away if she does the wrong thing.

She swallows hard and bites her lip for a second, her eyes never leaving his face. There's a reason she hasn't let herself even consider this, that Steve's only been a friend and a partner no matter what else she might want. But here, with his hand on her waist, it's becoming harder and harder to remember that by the second.

"Steve..."

She's not moving. He's scared. He can't help it. The only woman he's ever loved before, he lost, in the most permanent way he knows. There isn't a universe he's been to that's taken him back in time.

He looks down at his hand, trying to swallow. His tongue feels dry, his hands feel huge, his everything feels awkward and wrong.

Come on, man. It sounds like Bucky.

He slides his other hand around her hip and pulls her against him gently. "I'll stop. Just. Tell me you want me to stop."

Olivia stares up at him for another long moment, heart pounding hard in her throat, breath caught in her chest. They can stop. They can stop so easily now, and never be anything but friends, and when they find a way to get him home... when she loses him...

She lets out the breath she's been holding and swallows again. She's standing here with the bowls from the cupboard still in her hands, which kind of limits what she can do right now, but she shifts forward to press against him, almost cautiously, and shakes her head, a hesitant smile flickering over her face.

"I don't."

When he kisses her, it's with his fingertips against her cheek, his lips barely brushing hers before he leans in. Not a heated moment forced on him between rows of files. Not desperation and sweat and love shared on the brink of one world's ending.

It's shy. Chaste. Gentle exploration that intensifies as he finds he way he fits against her. Steve fumbles the bowls away from her, the rattle of them hitting the counter a brief distraction. A moment to breathe. But one arm is wrapped tight around the small of Olivia's back and they're pinned, body to body, and he can't bear to make himself let go, because he has no idea what comes next.

With her hands free, she winds one arm around his neck, the other hand resting lightly against his chest, fingers just barely twisted into the fabric to pull him closer. Maybe this is a risk and a bad idea, and maybe she's only setting herself up to be hurt in the end, but right now, with Steve's body solid and warm against her, his big hand at the small of her back holding her up, none of that matters. This... This is perfect.

At least, right up until the front door gets kicked in.

Steve knows the sounds of an ambush. His reaction is instinct, superhumanly fast, while in the back of his mind he thinks Olivia will kill him for putting himself between her and danger.

Not that it matters much when the blast from the first gun hits. It's like taking a grenade blast behind the shield - except he's absorbing the impact, and it smashes him past Olivia and through, not into, the sink.

"Steve!"

No time to check if he's alright, if he's even still breathing, she'll just have to trust that he's durable enough and heals fast enough that he can shake off an impact like that quickly.

Her gun's still on the table - too far away, but she lunges for it anyway. She manages to dodge one shot from the attacker moving into the living room, putting a wall between the two of them before he can fire again, but his partner's already heading her off before she makes the dining room.

The concussion slams her back across the kitchen, knocks her into the wall hard enough to make her see stars, and she can't focus, can't breathe, can't get to her feet...

The two men move in cautiously, guns still at the ready.

Steve shifts in the debris. He needs to move. Needs to help Olivia.

He grips a broken pipe, and it bends sideways as he levers himself to his feet like a titan from under a mountain.

The weapon sends Olivia flying.

The Captain wrenches a length of piping free, twists away from a pulse of force that shatters the cupboards and every dish inside, and slams forward to drive the pipe through the attacking man's chest. They're eye to eye for just a moment, and he whispers, "You'd better hope she lives, or I'll come down to hell and find you, you bastard."

Steve hammers the corpse through the air with a kick, rounding on the remaining man. He dives sideways to avoid another blast. He might not be able to see more than a ripple of warped air when the weapon fires, but the sound of the discharge is distinct. Dive again, duck again, draw him away from the kitchen and give Olivia a chance to recover -

A third invader rounds the corner from the front hall into the living room and puts three darts in Steve's shoulder and side. He hits the wall, splintering the wood, and staggers. His vision skews, blurs, and he grits his teeth. Nothing he knows works that fast, but that doesn't mean anything. Nothing at all.

No more fancy moves. He bullrushes the second man armed with the pulse weapon and puts his fist straight through the gun.

Steve's up and fighting. The noise of it sends a jolt of urgency through her, and she groans softly as she rolls forward onto hands and knees, shaking her head to clear it. The whole world seems to spin around her, and then slides into slow focus: the crushed remains of the sink and counter; the body slumped against the partition wall; Steve in the dining room with the second intruder; the gun on the kitchen floor, dropped by the first man Steve took out.

Olivia clenches her jaw against the wave of nausea that rises as she moves and dives for the gun. Once it's in her hands she rises to her knees, teeth gritted, all of her focus on one thing, aiming steady and giving Steve just one moment to press the advantage.

"Steve, get d-"

She missed the man in the living room. The dart hits her in the neck, and the gun drops almost immediately from nerveless fingers. She starts to fall, catches herself with one hand braced against the floor before she crumples entirely, but the room's going dark already.

"Olivia!" He backhands the the second armed man and feels his neck break.

Two more darts. Steve drops to one knee, awareness subsumed by fog. Boots across the floor. He lashes out - seizes the person's ankle -

And then he's out.

Edited 2012-09-16 01:32 (UTC)

"Two men down. Targets secured."

Olivia comes to again to the by now horribly familiar feeling of a needle in her arm, restraints at her wrists and ankles, and a throbbing headache. At least she's in a chair, not strapped to an exam table - not much comfort, but she can probably assume she's not about to be dissected or something.

She takes a slow, deep breath and lifts her head, testing the restraints at her wrists instinctively as she moves. Something in her arm pinches as she moves - an IV, dripping god knows what into her, and she panics a little at that, pulling harder to try to break free.

"Don't bother," says a man's voice from behind her - calm, almost warm, and unfamiliar. "Those are meant to contain the Captain; you're not likely to have much luck with them."

The mention of Steve makes her gasp softly, glancing around - but he's right there beside her, held to a chair with metal restraints in exactly the same fashion as her, and she's not sure if that makes the situation better or worse.

"What do you want with us?" she croaks, rolling her head back to look at the man. Not someone she recognizes. He's holding a syringe, drawing a sickly orange liquid out of a vial, and he smiles thinly at her question, but doesn't answer as he injects it into Steve's IV. Olivia sits up a little straighter, fighting down the instinct to bruise herself on the restraints trying to get to him. "What is that?"

"Relax. Just a mild stimulant to bring him around."

Olivia bares her teeth in an expression that doesn't even come close to a smile. "I'd be a lot more relaxed if I hadn't just been kidnapped."

It does that. He shifts, feels the resistance of restraints, and tries to fight before he's aware enough to be sure he's tied down. The struggle is difficult. Limp. He feels feverish in a way that's all too familiar, soft as a piece of fruit rotting from the inside out.

"Liv." He's almost sure he heard her voice. He strains hard, but there's no give, and the effort leaves him shaking in a way that makes his hair stand on end. "Olivia."

There. There she is, tied down, a stranger between them. He musters up a glare. "You people really don't get creative with this kind of thing, do you?"

"I'm here," she says softly, slumping down in her chair in mixed relief that he's conscious and at least capable of sarcasm, and frustration that she's not seeing a way out of this.

She can wait. She's been here before, more often than she'd like to admit - but having Steve here with her is putting her more on edge, like she's somehow responsible for making sure he gets out of here in one piece. She is responsible for his presence in this universe, anyway, so whatever happens after that... it's on her.

"A little patience, Captain, and I'm sure we can find some way to entertain you," the stranger says with wry amusement, moving off behind their chairs. "Just a few preliminaries now..."

Olivia hears the rattle of glass on metal as he prepares something, but doesn't look back. She's not sure seeing what he's doing would make her feel any better.

"Seen this one before. You kids with your remakes - never as good."

He smiles at Olivia as soon as the enemy moves out of sight. The unsteadiness has settled somewhere between his chest and stomach, making him feel like he's going to be sick.

Generic medical facilities in a room that looks like it's only recently been occupied again. Cameras, though. Steve marks their positions and the angles they cover without looking at them, expanding the map in his head to include likely locations for cameras he can't see, covering the angles the others leave blind.

Assume your enemy is smarter than you - assume they'll always have a back-up plan.

He rests his head against the chair and tries to steady his breathing. His head starts to pound. "Should I bother asking what you're doing and if you need both of us for it, or would you like to deliver the monologue without the usual prompts?"

Olivia manages a faint smile back, genuine if strained. She flexes her hands, trying to keep circulation through restraints that are almost too tight, and lets Steve do the talking for the moment - he's getting answers, after all, and she's not about to do anything to change that.

"Ask whatever you'd like. We don't need or want to conceal anything from you. If we thought you'd have come along willingly..." He sighs softly, sounding regretful - but not much, considering he lost two men bringing them here. "We do need the both of you, though. We need an army - you can consider yourself the first recruits."

The back of Olivia's neck prickles at the words, some old fear clawing its way up her throat from a half-buried memory - and the feeling only intensifies as he steps back into view, holding two more syringes. One contains something dark red and viscous in a way that can't be anything but blood. The liquid in the other is bright red, and the bottom of her stomach drops out as her gaze fixes on it.

"Is that Cortexiphan?" she asks, her voice hard and level like she already knows.

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