The cell block was tiny, a short corridor with two cells on each side, each only just big enough to lie down in. At least, Peggy could lie down; she was less certain Barnes could quite manage at full length. Cramped though it would have been, Peggy rather wished they were in the same cell. It would have been pleasant to have something warm to lean against.
She was over the active nausea, at least, though she still felt shaky and sick and couldn’t move quickly. Barnes was relatively unharmed, having surrendered when they held a gun to her semi-conscious head. Peggy was furious with herself for having been knocked silly in the first place, but the moving finger had writ and there was nothing to do now but deal with the consequences.
At the moment, those appeared to consist of sitting on cold concrete, listening to Barnes breathe and hoping Steve had gotten out. Peggy was cautiously optimistic, since it seemed likely there’d have been a great deal of gloating if they had managed to kill or even capture Captain America. She supposed that if it came to it, her life and Barnes’ were an acceptable trade for Steve’s, though she’d certainly prefer not to die this week.
She had managed to doze off, leaning into the corner of her cell, when the door out to the guardroom rattled open. The officer who entered first was only a leutnant, a little surprising for an installation this size, and Peggy made a note of the fact in case she got a chance to report it. Her stomach clenched as his men followed him, enough to make the corridor cramped and all of them staring at her with avid eyes. Peggy pressed her lips together. She’d always known the perils of her chosen profession; her first trainers had made sure of it.
“Stand up,” the leutnant said. Peggy did. There was no point in disobedience; it would only invite retribution and she had no great desire to be beaten before she was raped. It took longer than she liked and when she was standing her head pounded abominably. They opened her cell and two men entered to take her by the arms. “Agent Margaret Carter,” said the leutnant, sounding smug. “You are famous, you know.”
“I’m delighted,” Peggy said flatly.
The leutnant stepped forward and slapped her. Peggy gasped and staggered, her stomach trying to rebel, and only the grips on her arms kept her upright. As soon as she could she raised her head again. It was terribly tempting to ensure that the leutnant wouldn’t be able to enjoy what he was planning, and no one was holding her legs. But she held her peace as he reached for her blouse buttons and stared resolutely over his shoulder, threading her gaze between two leering faces. Barnes was not directly in her line of sight, though she could see him standing in his own cell. She had never seen him so angry before.
The leutnant pulled her blouse out of her trousers so that it hung open and cupped her breast in his hand, rubbing his thumb over the nipple through her brassiere. Peggy ignored him. “Hm,” he said, and dropped his hands to her trousers. He unbuttoned them and pushed them down her hips. She raised her chin. At least, she thought distantly, her knickers were plain and practical. The leutnant slid his hand into them.
“Stop it,” Barnes gritted, his voice quivering with fury. “Leave her alone.”
"You do not give orders here, Sergeant Barnes," the leutnent said. His fingers caressed her, gently enough that it would have been pleasant if it had been Steve.
"OK. OK," Barnes said. "Then I'm askin'. I'm begging. Please don't. You work for Hydra, ain't that enough?"
"Sergeant, don't," Peggy said tightly. She didn't like the speculative expression on the leutnent's face as he half-turned to look in Barnes' direction.
"My men need their entertainment," he said. "Would you have me tell them no?"
"I'll do it," Barnes said. Peggy blinked. She'd never have expected Barnes, of all people, to make such an offer on her behalf. "If you just want—"
The leutnant smiled suddenly, the nasty sneer of a man who'd turn a goodnight kiss into the ruin of a reputation in the stories he told the next day. "What a charming idea," he said. "Yes, charming." Peggy almost could have laughed at the faces of some of his men; they clearly didn't agree with their commander.
But she didn't have time for amusement. "Barnes, I don't need you to protect me." She, at least, had some chance of escaping permanent injury—
"Surely you would prefer your comrade the sergeant to all of us, Agent Carter," the leutnant said silkily.
Silence fell. One of the men started to snicker. Peggy was still trying to understand what that might mean when Barnes exploded, "That's not what I meant!"
The leutnant shrugged. His fingers began to move again and Peggy failed to completely suppress her shudder of revulsion. "But that is my bargain, Sergeant Barnes. You may, as you say, 'do it', or all my men will take their turns. All of them, not just these few."
Sounding strangled, Barnes said, "Carter." Peggy met his gaze. He looked horrified, and that decided her. She flicked her eyes down and back up. Barnes took a deep breath. "Fine," he said to the leutnant. Peggy would not have liked to be the target of his stare. "Fine, I'll do it."
FILL: When It's Over, I Might Dance 1/?
She was over the active nausea, at least, though she still felt shaky and sick and couldn’t move quickly. Barnes was relatively unharmed, having surrendered when they held a gun to her semi-conscious head. Peggy was furious with herself for having been knocked silly in the first place, but the moving finger had writ and there was nothing to do now but deal with the consequences.
At the moment, those appeared to consist of sitting on cold concrete, listening to Barnes breathe and hoping Steve had gotten out. Peggy was cautiously optimistic, since it seemed likely there’d have been a great deal of gloating if they had managed to kill or even capture Captain America. She supposed that if it came to it, her life and Barnes’ were an acceptable trade for Steve’s, though she’d certainly prefer not to die this week.
She had managed to doze off, leaning into the corner of her cell, when the door out to the guardroom rattled open. The officer who entered first was only a leutnant, a little surprising for an installation this size, and Peggy made a note of the fact in case she got a chance to report it. Her stomach clenched as his men followed him, enough to make the corridor cramped and all of them staring at her with avid eyes. Peggy pressed her lips together. She’d always known the perils of her chosen profession; her first trainers had made sure of it.
“Stand up,” the leutnant said. Peggy did. There was no point in disobedience; it would only invite retribution and she had no great desire to be beaten before she was raped. It took longer than she liked and when she was standing her head pounded abominably. They opened her cell and two men entered to take her by the arms. “Agent Margaret Carter,” said the leutnant, sounding smug. “You are famous, you know.”
“I’m delighted,” Peggy said flatly.
The leutnant stepped forward and slapped her. Peggy gasped and staggered, her stomach trying to rebel, and only the grips on her arms kept her upright. As soon as she could she raised her head again. It was terribly tempting to ensure that the leutnant wouldn’t be able to enjoy what he was planning, and no one was holding her legs. But she held her peace as he reached for her blouse buttons and stared resolutely over his shoulder, threading her gaze between two leering faces. Barnes was not directly in her line of sight, though she could see him standing in his own cell. She had never seen him so angry before.
The leutnant pulled her blouse out of her trousers so that it hung open and cupped her breast in his hand, rubbing his thumb over the nipple through her brassiere. Peggy ignored him. “Hm,” he said, and dropped his hands to her trousers. He unbuttoned them and pushed them down her hips. She raised her chin. At least, she thought distantly, her knickers were plain and practical. The leutnant slid his hand into them.
“Stop it,” Barnes gritted, his voice quivering with fury. “Leave her alone.”
"You do not give orders here, Sergeant Barnes," the leutnent said. His fingers caressed her, gently enough that it would have been pleasant if it had been Steve.
"OK. OK," Barnes said. "Then I'm askin'. I'm begging. Please don't. You work for Hydra, ain't that enough?"
"Sergeant, don't," Peggy said tightly. She didn't like the speculative expression on the leutnent's face as he half-turned to look in Barnes' direction.
"My men need their entertainment," he said. "Would you have me tell them no?"
"I'll do it," Barnes said. Peggy blinked. She'd never have expected Barnes, of all people, to make such an offer on her behalf. "If you just want—"
The leutnant smiled suddenly, the nasty sneer of a man who'd turn a goodnight kiss into the ruin of a reputation in the stories he told the next day. "What a charming idea," he said. "Yes, charming." Peggy almost could have laughed at the faces of some of his men; they clearly didn't agree with their commander.
But she didn't have time for amusement. "Barnes, I don't need you to protect me." She, at least, had some chance of escaping permanent injury—
"Surely you would prefer your comrade the sergeant to all of us, Agent Carter," the leutnant said silkily.
Silence fell. One of the men started to snicker. Peggy was still trying to understand what that might mean when Barnes exploded, "That's not what I meant!"
The leutnant shrugged. His fingers began to move again and Peggy failed to completely suppress her shudder of revulsion. "But that is my bargain, Sergeant Barnes. You may, as you say, 'do it', or all my men will take their turns. All of them, not just these few."
Sounding strangled, Barnes said, "Carter." Peggy met his gaze. He looked horrified, and that decided her. She flicked her eyes down and back up. Barnes took a deep breath. "Fine," he said to the leutnant. Peggy would not have liked to be the target of his stare. "Fine, I'll do it."