rogue. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theycalledmeacurse) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
rogue_america2016-09-01 10:26 pm
theycalledmeacurse) wrote in rogue_america2016-09-01 10:26 pm
1943
World War II. 1943. Even with everything she'd seen, everything she'd learned from the people she'd absorbed in this time, it was still so hard to believe. It shouldn't have been with the life she'd lived thus far, but it was.
Something had gone wrong. She'd felt the timeline resetting, had seen the Sentinels disappear from the room as their universe shifted, and then... Gunfire. Explosions. Shouting. More war.
She'd been taken with the rest of the prisoners to a compound, put into cells with soldiers who were exhausted and shell-shocked, and she'd watched as one by one their numbers had decreased, as those who were sick or weak and unable to work were taken away and never seen again. And then it had been her turn, and all it had taken was one man grabbing her face to get a better look at her before they'd found out she was different.
There were questions and tests. So many tests. She was useful to them, a rare find. There had been talk of putting her into a program, erasing her mind and starting over to make a perfect weapon. That's when they'd strapped her to that table, when she'd fought like a wild animal until they'd had to drug her. The interrogations had started then, the weasely little scientist wanting information before he began the full process, but that, if nothing else, had been familiar to her in the most terrible ways. So she'd resisted and fed him lie after lie, making things up as she went and pretending that the pain was getting to her when by then she'd barely felt any of it.
And then... she'd been rescued. Not because she could be of use to the mission, but because she was a person. Because a fellow prisoner had thought she deserved to not be left there to die. It was more than her friends had ever done for her.
When they'd gotten back to the military camp, there had been more questions, and suspicions from everyone about the strange woman who had seemed so valuable to HYDRA. Perhaps she was a plant, a double agent working for the enemy. She hadn't told them everything about who she was, but she'd told them enough, and eventually... they'd believed her. Or they'd seemed to, anyway. She'd seen the truth in their eyes - she was a danger to everyone if she stayed, but she might still be of some use to them on the front, and if she did turn out to be a spy, she could be dealt with there easily enough.
That was how she'd ended up out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by sleeping men who had been asked to trust her, to work with her so she could get information from the enemy while they did the work they'd been assigned. She shifted on the spot on the ground, legs curled up under her as she stared at the small fire they'd decided to build because they were far enough away from the enemy to risk chasing away a bit of the cold. Only a few of the Howling Commandos were still awake to notice the way she played with the gloves she'd been provided as part of her uniform, tugging and adjusting them over and over. A nervous, comforting habit to help her face a world that wasn't her own, and a war she should never have had to see in anything but memory.
Something had gone wrong. She'd felt the timeline resetting, had seen the Sentinels disappear from the room as their universe shifted, and then... Gunfire. Explosions. Shouting. More war.
She'd been taken with the rest of the prisoners to a compound, put into cells with soldiers who were exhausted and shell-shocked, and she'd watched as one by one their numbers had decreased, as those who were sick or weak and unable to work were taken away and never seen again. And then it had been her turn, and all it had taken was one man grabbing her face to get a better look at her before they'd found out she was different.
There were questions and tests. So many tests. She was useful to them, a rare find. There had been talk of putting her into a program, erasing her mind and starting over to make a perfect weapon. That's when they'd strapped her to that table, when she'd fought like a wild animal until they'd had to drug her. The interrogations had started then, the weasely little scientist wanting information before he began the full process, but that, if nothing else, had been familiar to her in the most terrible ways. So she'd resisted and fed him lie after lie, making things up as she went and pretending that the pain was getting to her when by then she'd barely felt any of it.
And then... she'd been rescued. Not because she could be of use to the mission, but because she was a person. Because a fellow prisoner had thought she deserved to not be left there to die. It was more than her friends had ever done for her.
When they'd gotten back to the military camp, there had been more questions, and suspicions from everyone about the strange woman who had seemed so valuable to HYDRA. Perhaps she was a plant, a double agent working for the enemy. She hadn't told them everything about who she was, but she'd told them enough, and eventually... they'd believed her. Or they'd seemed to, anyway. She'd seen the truth in their eyes - she was a danger to everyone if she stayed, but she might still be of some use to them on the front, and if she did turn out to be a spy, she could be dealt with there easily enough.
That was how she'd ended up out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by sleeping men who had been asked to trust her, to work with her so she could get information from the enemy while they did the work they'd been assigned. She shifted on the spot on the ground, legs curled up under her as she stared at the small fire they'd decided to build because they were far enough away from the enemy to risk chasing away a bit of the cold. Only a few of the Howling Commandos were still awake to notice the way she played with the gloves she'd been provided as part of her uniform, tugging and adjusting them over and over. A nervous, comforting habit to help her face a world that wasn't her own, and a war she should never have had to see in anything but memory.
no subject
She watched Bucky say something to Steve before she stood and moved away from the fire, to where she'd left her pack of things a decent distance from the others. It was safer to not be too close, and even if they weren't outright afraid of her, she didn't want to risk making them feel uneasy. As she settled down beside her pack, she fished out another pair of gloves she'd been provided, made of a thick material that luckily didn't tear if she bit into them in the middle of the night -- she couldn't take the chance that she might scream in her sleep, and it was as good a gag as any she would find out here in the middle of nowhere. Her jaw hurt in the morning after using it, but she'd endured worse.
no subject
He'd watched Rogue all night. Not that he'd ever admit it. She'd made some noises, too, and he hadn't known if he should wake her, or how she'd react even if he did. But again, it hadn't come to that.
Come morning, just as the sky began to lighten along the horizon, but before true dawn, Steve had put the small cooking pan over the low fire, and started boiling water for coffee. He still wasn't tired physically, but his brain was in that foggy in-between place. Even though he'd noticed that caffeine didn't affect him the way it used to, maybe didn't affect him at all anymore, if nothing else, the awful taste of their boiled coffee should give him a jolt.
He was just pouring a cup of the stuff when Bucky settled beside him, rubbing his face. Taking one look at him, Bucky said decisively, "You're sleeping tonight. I don' wanna hear it, Rogers; I'll take watch."
Steve sighed in resignation, but didn't argue. Bringing the tin cup to his lips, his eyes automatically trailed back to Rogue's spot, away from the other men. His thoughts had been meandering last night, but he'd continued to turn them over and around, trying to figure out just what he was supposed to do with her. They were 2 days away from their first target, and he didn't know what would happen when they reached it.
no subject
The light of dawn woke her. For three years, she'd known only a world of harsh light and unforgiving metal, and so the stark different between night and day woke her every time, even from the deepest sleep. She woke quickly, though her mind felt foggy and she longed for a cup of coffee. The scent from the boiled semblance of the drink drifted over on the wind and she frowned at it.
After packing up her things, she moved closer to the fire pit, keeping a safe distance from the men but making sure it was a natural one. Reminding them all if how dangerous she was seemed like a bad idea.
"Good morning," she greeted softly, southern manners shining through regardless of the circumstance. Still, she cringed just a tiny bit, because it seemed like such a strange thing to say in the middle of a war zone.
no subject
"Shaddup, i's fine," Steve muttered back, glad Bucky was feeling well enough to give him flak. He took another sip of his own coffee - and couldn't stop himself from coughing a little afterward. "Puts hair on yer chest," he practically wheezed. Bucky seemed determined to - not ignore Rogue, but include her by not drawing attention to her, it seemed. So Steve followed his example.
"I don' need hair on my chest." Bucky glowered at the sludge they were calling coffee this morning. "I need for my coffee to not dissolve my insides. This is what I get fer lett'n' a non-coffee drinker make the coffee."
"Bitch bitch bitch," Steve muttered. He glanced at Rogue. "Apparently, my coffee is sub-par for the connoisseur over here, but you're welcome to some if you want."