Two pieces of the same whole.
Two important parts of Hydra’s machine.
Two lost souls connected by pain and misery and fear.
Fear of themselves.
Fear of others.
Fear of the unknown.
Two weapons, running from everything.
“Think they saw us?”
Her lungs wheeze the words out as she doubled over, her brunette hair falling into and hiding her face.
“If they saw us we’d already be dead.”
I state, leaning against the wall and sighing.
“This is the third time in two weeks. How do they keep finding us?”
She whispers, her hand covering her mouth as she leans up.
“Who knows? I told you we shouldn’t have left like that. We could’ve saved a lot of trouble if we just-“
She demands, eyes flashing.
“We are wanted for murder, James. There’s no one left to help us but ourselves.”
The apartment is grungy, with holes in the ceiling and pieces of the walls stripped away.
The floor is chipped and it reeks of mold, and I’m sure the mice have been living here for years.
But it’s shelter, and that’s all we can ask for.
I voice as soon as I enter the threshold.
I learned last time if I don’t warn her, I would end up against the wall with our food splattered across the floor.
That night the rats ate better than us, and it took an hour to convince Wanda I wasn’t angry.
“A real bed.”
She sighs dreamily, resting her chin in her hands.
“Seriously? I think.. I think it’s the food I miss most.”
I laugh, leaning back and stretching my legs out.
“The food? Not Steve?”
She questions, and I can see she immediately regrets bringing him into our conversation.
“I’m sorry, I forgot.”
She murmurs, reaching out and taking my hand in hers.
“This was for the best though, wasn’t it? Instead of going through with the trials?”
Her question is the one we’ve had on our minds from the very beginning.
And unfortunately, it’s one I don’t think we’ll ever be able to answer.