for bucky.

[marriageable]

[ She should really be heading home.

It’s the same thought she’s been having for the past hour — everybody else had filed out long ago, the hour hand on the wall ticking past eight. The museum had been closed three hours past already; she was sure to hear it from her mother for being late again to supper. It was not like Daphne to be late anywhere, save for the acceptable tardiness when one was being fashionable, or giving the host time to freshen up.

But she likes her job, and she really doesn’t mind the tasks handed to her; she’s the youngest of the curators, after all, eager to prove her worth.

Even if not absorbed in her work, she would think anything of a creak, or a shuffling noise in the distance. Maintenance came in at night, and old buildings make all sorts of noises.

None of it registers, until she shoulders her purse and flicks the lights off. A rustle, followed by a thud. In the dim hallway, she casts her eyes over toward the open door to the director’s office.

Something stills her from moving forward, but she calls out anyways, because it’s nothing, naturally, just another weekday night — ]

I’m heading out now, Dr. Porter. I’ll see you in the morning.

Comments

[ostavil]

I'm no one. Come here.

( There are several things confusing about this but chief among them is why an omega isn't responding to his commands. The other is why he hasn't killed her; he doesn't leave witnesses. Even pretty omegas aren't exceptions to that. )

[marriageable]

[ Come here.

Finally, she snaps out of it. ]

No!

[ Cold fear snakes through her blood, soaks through her very being and wets the back of her shirt with total terror. She fumbles back, toward the wall, and collides with it, trying to reach for the handle to the closest door. It doesn’t matter that her chances of escape seem slim; her survival instincts have kicked in. ]

[ostavil]

( She shouldn't be able to fight the command. How is she fighting it? He still smells her - fear layered over her scent and he knows he isn't wrong about her designation as much as he knows he's not wrong about his own.

It doesn't take him long to clear the distance between them and he grabs her wrist in his left hand and pulls it up to scent it. )

I gave you a command, omega.

[marriageable]

[ She manages to shove the door open, but he’s there before she can bolt through it — not that it leads anywhere, but maybe she could lock the door, or bar it — and a leather hand grips her wrist.

His words are nothing but white noise. He could be saying anything, or nothing at all. He has his hands on her, that’s all that matters. She starts screaming her head off, trying to pull away with all the strength she has. ]

[ostavil]

( He flips his gun back into the holster and slaps his hand over her mouth to smother the screams. No witnesses. She's already seen too much and she is a liability. He should kill her. That is always the assignment. He doesn't want to. He wants to lock her away and keep her for his own. )

If you scream, I will kill you. If you want to live, you have to do everything I say. Everything. Do you understand?

( It's the most English he's spoken in decades but the words come easily to him just as Russian does. He speaks it well, just as he speaks everything else well. He knows how to disappear. )

[marriageable]

[ His hand meets her mouth, and the leather muffles her screams, but they don’t stop until —

I will kill you.

She believes him. With everything inside her, she does.

Her eyes slant upward to his, hers dilated with fear.

Daphne can’t breathe. She can’t breathe, and his hand over her mouth worsens that, but she whimpers and her body slackens with relent. ]

[ostavil]

( She goes limp and he pulls his hand from her mouth before hauling her back against his chest and dipping his head to sniff the crook of her neck. She smells of fear, yes, but it can't cover up her scent and it calms him. He knows where he can take her. He doesn't have to kill her. )

You have to come with me. No witnesses.

[marriageable]

[ Her back meets his chest, spine connecting against the hard straps across it, the metal arm — she’s never seen anything like it — digging under her bra. She doesn’t know what he’s doing, but she thinks she knows. She thinks she knows where this is leading.

Another whimper breaks from her throat. She nods. ]

Okay, okay. [ No witnesses. No witnesses. What did that mean? Oh god- ] Where?

[ostavil]

Secret location.

( HYDRA has plenty of black sites and he has knowledge of several in London. No one will disturb them. No one even knows they exist - even some members of HYDRA aren't privileged to know. He could hide in one for months. )

No electronics. Give them to me.

[marriageable]

[ Not until he points it out does it occur to her she could have tried to call for help. Too late now. It wouldn’t have worked in the first place. He’s too fast.

Her hands are shaking as she fumbles with her purse, some of its contents spilling as she digs around inside it blindly, to hand him her cellphone. The case is light blue; when the screen lights up, it’s a photo of nine people in total — her whole family, seated in front of a towering Christmas tree, a candid photo of smiles and laughter. ]

[ostavil]

( He takes the phone and crushes it in his hand. No more phone. No more tracking. )

You will be quiet and obey. I will not kill you if you do this.

[marriageable]

[ The phone crunches in his hand, the breaking glass like the seal of fate. A single tear tracks down her cheek. Her lips tremble, but she nods again. Affirming. ]

I will be quiet. I won’t scream.

[ostavil]

Where we go, no one can find you. Come.

( His hand on her wrist is a little more gentle now, pulling her toward him and toward the unmarked vehicle he has for this op. He knows she is frightened but he can smell her scent under it and he wants it to blossom. )

[marriageable]

[ She cannot even imagine that is intended to be comforting. She only hears a threat. No one can find you. Will no one ever find her?

I will die tonight. The thought beats into her head, drumming inside it. She thinks of her mother’s face. She thinks of what she will do when she does not come home, not now, and not ever.

Though silent, she starts crying in earnest when they approach the car, and digs her heels in. ]

Please—

[ostavil]

I will not hurt you. You have to obey.

( He does not know why she won't just listen to him. He has already let her have more than he lets most have. )

You are an omega. I won't hurt you.

[marriageable]

[ Omega. Her mind halts and she stops in her tracks, connecting it to the way he had pressed his mask to her neck. Had he been scenting her? She’d witnessed her parents do this ritual all the time growing up, before her father’s passing, and Anthony with his many flings.

She laughs, but it sounds all wrong, warbly and terrible, and lifts her confused eyes to the icy blue of her captor’s. ]

No, no. [ She shakes her head, emphatic. If she’s not an omega, will he let her go? ] You’re mistaken. I’m a beta, not an omega. My mother is, and half of my siblings, but not me. You must’ve — [ her throat closes suddenly, thick with tears. She forces herself to continue. ] You smelt somebody else. Please. I have money. You can have anything you want!

[ostavil]

No. There is no one else to smell. It is you, omega. Only you. I would have killed you if you were a beta.

( It is easy enough to admit that. )

[marriageable]

[ Fear slices through her again. Her eyes jump to the nondescript SUV and back to him, then down to the grasp he has on her hand. The moonlight glints off his arm. ]

Please.

[ It’s small, pathetic. The whole time, she has a crushing feeling it won’t work. ]

[ostavil]

You have to come with me. You won't be safe otherwise. Only I can keep you safe.

( In his mind, he's thinking of HYDRA and what they would do to her as a live witness and, on top of that, what they would do to her if they knew she could control him and his impulses outside of the words. )

Get in.

( Low. Guttural. )

[marriageable]

[ Now, that’s a confusing turn of phrase. Even her panic-fueled state pieces that together. She doesn’t know what it means. In the same breath, she doesn’t think she can trust it either. Whoever he is, he’s clearly mentally unwell and dangerous.

With palpable dread, she acquiescences, climbing into the pitch-black interior of the vehicle.

What other choice is there? There isn’t one. ]

[ostavil]

( No, there is no other choice. HYDRA will kill her if they know she witnessed what happened at the museum and he will not allow that. He does not know his own name or anything but that he is Alpha and she is an omega that he wants and wants to protect. )

No one can find us where I'm taking you. You'll be safe from them.

[marriageable]

[ She doesn’t say anything to that, but it troubles and perplexes her.

Them.
Who was ‘them’?
Was this man clinically insane?
Did he kill Dr. Porter? (She has the sinking suspicion he had.)
Where had he come from?

He straps her in. While he rounds over to the driver’s side, Daphne makes a quick catalogue of the car’s interior. It’s spare inside, a rental she guesses, not lived in, with the windows tinted to the point she can barely see outside. When he slips in, she moves as far as the front seat permits, plastering herself to the car door and looking straight ahead.

The ride to wherever he intends to steal her away to is long and painstakingly silent. She isn’t sure what she expected, but it isn’t that. The entire time, she can feel his gaze on her, as often as it is on the road. The tears dry on her face and the adrenaline wears thin. At one point, fatigued, with her face stuck against the window, she drifts off, only to come to with a jerk of her limbs.

She starts to observe him, close to the end. The mask is never removed, but she senses increasing tension in him, the bunch of his muscles, sweat on his brow.

And she feels — off, her nerves tight, and a little carsick. ]

[ostavil]

( He scents it almost immediately. The warm jasmine of her scent gets thicker in his nose and his heightened senses are on full alert. Omega in heat. It's enough that he knows he'll go into rut from it and it's a good thing he's getting her away from everyone.

He reaches for one of her small hands and puts it on his thigh, holding it there with his own left hand. )

[marriageable]

[ She tries to resist, but his hand is firm and cold and scary, even if it is encased in leather.

The next hour grows increasingly uncomfortable. The air begins to stifle, her joints scream, and her body objects, alternating between warm and cold. She starts to cold sweat, as if she’s hungover, squirming in place.

A soft noise of pain escapes. ] Stop. Please. [ Her voice just above a whisper. ] I’m going to be sick.

[ostavil]

Heat. It isn't safe to stop right now. I have to get you away from everyone else.

( He glances at her as he speeds up his driving, wanting to get to the safe house as quick as possible. It isn't easy with the winding roads but he is an experienced driver. )