verb.
To fall back under pressure. To shrink back physically or emotionally.
noun.
The kickback of a gun upon firing.
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It takes a stubborn mind to cling to their humanity when the world seeks to strip it away.
It takes a desperate soul to reach f...
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Her breaths came in shuddering exhales, one hand pressing to her chest as she struggled to draw in air past the crushing feeling that had settled upon her as she strode away from the observation room.
Her hands were shaking, her mouth dry, her eyes struggling to focus.
In the silence of the lab, the sound of her laboured breathing bounced back at her, confronting her with its irregular rhythm.
"Zola." She called softly, her legs carrying her to the monitor across the room from her, a trembling hand pressing to the palm scanner on the desk; "Zola can you run a vitals check?"
"Of course, Agent Ivanov."
It had to be the serum; the negative reaction was coming at last. Her chest felt so tight, her head was pounding, her limbs shaking.
"All levels appear normal, Agent."
"Check again." She pressed, rubbing her free hand over the back of her neck.
The little camera set atop the monitor rose a little, as if looking at her face, before dropping again.
"If I may make a suggestion, Agent Ivanov, the symptoms you are exhibiting appear to be linked to an emotional reaction. Perhaps also exhaustion. I would advise rest."
"He's right, Kat."
Sniffing a little, Katrina looked up at the sound of her father's voice, her lower lip trembling involuntarily as he pulled her into his arms. Her shoulders shook as she pressed her face into his chest, her fingers clinging to the back of his jacket as he embraced her tightly.
"You did so well, myshka." He whispered in her ear as she hiccupped out a tiny sob; "I'm so proud of you."
"Papa..."
Eleven hours. Eleven hours she had spent bent over the Soldier's hand, meticulously reconstructing the gnarled mess of steel. Eleven hours she had cradled his head on her shoulder, even as her own body had seized and cramped with the effort of remaining still for so long. Eleven hours his fingers of flesh and bone had clung to her, so tightly that she could feel it now, the pressure on her skin.
Eleven hours her eyes had burned with exhaustion, but her mind had forced itself to remain focused, locked in that limbo of tension and determination. She had been aware that she was being watched. She knew that Karpov and her father were still present behind the two-way mirror, but all she could think of was the man before her.
Eleven hours she had spent with two words echoing through her mind.
It hurts.
He had broken through. He had been so frightened and in so much agony that for a moment, the Winter Soldier had been utterly stripped away. A terrified man had clung to her, asked her for help...
