The ghosts we hide (Winter Soldier x OC)

Eight

A/N: from now on all chapters will be from Nyx's POV unless otherwise stated.
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We stare at each other for what feels like an age, stock still despite the sounds of battle raging below. A lump settles in my throat.

And then suddenly he's rushing forwards, closing the space between us in big leaps. I run to meet him, analysing his figure in an attempt to predict where the first hit will come from.

I manage to dodge his first punch, but the second hits me square in the jaw, almost knocking me off my feet. My vision blurs with tears from the impact, making it impossible to see his next attack. A foot kicks the backs of my legs, forcing me to my knees. Blinking furiously, I push all my weight onto my throbbing hands and kick backwards, booting him in the stomach. He stumbles, giving me enough time to get up.

"We don't need to do this." He says, sidestepping a punch to the face. A metal hand closes around my outstretched arm, pulling me towards him while his other fist is driven into my exposed side.

I gasp like a fish, unable to inhale as the air is forced out of my lungs.

Thinking fast, I grab a hunk of hair with the hand that is still held by his metal one, and yank downwards, forcing his head with it. I bring my knee up to meet it, just barely missing his nose.

My arm is released as he stumbles backwards a few steps, rubbing his jaw.

Our eyes meet for a split second before he lets out a grunt and charges again, just as a voice shouts from my wrist.

"There will be a chopper above the east turret in five minutes. Be there." The orders comes from my wrist strap, followed by a loud bang and multiple screams before the line cuts out into static.

A body collides with mine, taking us both to the ground. Two ridiculously strong arms clamp around my waist, forcing my limbs to my sides. I can feel his warm breath panting in my ear.

An image of a training room flashes across my mind, blood on the floor.

No.

A growl echos in my throat as I throw my head back, connecting with his cheek. He groans, but doesn't let go.

Instead, he rolls over so that I'm on my stomach, him straddling my body on his knees, arms held tightly behind my back.

"It doesn't need to be like this." He mutters, placing both of my wrists into one of his as he reaches behind his back for something, handcuffs no doubt.

A disgusted laugh erupts from my throat. Thrashing violently, I manage to get one arm free. Ignoring the sickening throbbing of my broken hand, I extend my claws and slash them into his leg.

I hear a muffled groan as he loosens his grip on my other arm. Twisting onto my back, I bring my legs forwards and kick out, hurling him backwards.

Scrambling to my feet, I watch as he stands too, inspecting the rip across his thigh. He presses his metal hand over the wound then pulls away, the blood vibrant against his silver fingers. Our eyes meet once more. To my shock, his hold a steely sadness.

"Let me help you Nyx." He says, torso rising and falling with mine.

I scoff.