[[ Arielle P.O.V. // don't play song until listed]]

"You're making me nervous." Bruce says, his arms crossed as he watches me from across the bedroom. My bridesmaid dress is a beautiful, royal blue. It's long, and flowy--thin straps for the arms--and a bust that pushes up your chest. Hannah did good picking these out. There are two other bridesmaids, which are her cousins--both with dresses that match mine. I run my hands over it, fluffing it and checking to make sure everything is in tact. I glance at the clock on the wall above the bed:

11:45PM

It's late, I feel tired. I'm ready for bed. The rehearsal dinner was good, I'm stuffed, I'm sleepy.

"Why?" I ask, I hang my dress on a hanger inside the small closet near the bedroom door. The boat sways in the night, the waves under us moving under my feet. It feels so weird.

"Because you're being quiet. You aren't telling me everything. I can tell something's on your mind." He stares at me until my eyes finally make contact with his. "You barely said a word at the rehearsal dinner. You've barely spoken to Hannah or really anyone for that matter since this morning. What's going on? Is this about—." Before he can go on I interrupt him, "I'm fine. Everything's fine. I'm just—I'm just taking it all in. It's weird being around everyone again. I just need some time to adjust." I lie, thinking about the weird warning that Hannah gave me about Grant. I grab a few more items of clothing and begin to hang them in the closet.

"Is it Grant? Your ex?" He asks, pushing for answers. He sits on the edge of the bed, grabbing onto his knees with his palms.

I pause, looking down for a moment as I let out a deep sigh. I look over at him, giving him a half smile as I feel the guilt weighing on my chest. He looks so worried. I'm not giving him any comfort. I make my way over to him, and stop right in front of him. I cup his face into my hands and pull his eyes up to mine.

"I don't want to worry you. I don't, Bruce, I—." He interrupts me, "Then tell me." He whispers as he looks up at me. "Talk to me." He pleads again. I take a deep breath, looking in and out of his eyes so deeply that I'm reminded just how easy they are to get lost in.

"I don't want to upset you."

"You mean you don't want me to get angry." He frowns, grabbing onto my hands and pulling them off of his face. He stands up, pushing past me as he walks over to the small window that shows the dark night, our boat out on the water. He stands in front of the window for a moment, and I watch him from behind in confusion. I cross my arms, and he turns to face me again. "You don't want to tell me what really happened between you and your ex who is somewhere on this boat staying here just like we are. We're gonna have to see him. You will. I will. You can't keep things from me...just because you think...because you think that I might—."

"We both know what can happen when you get angry. And you will. You just don't understand." I interrupt him.

"Then make me. Make me understand. I can take it. Do you know how long I've been doing this? How long I've been dealing with this? This intensified rage? I can bottle it up when I need to." He argues.

"No." I disagree. "No, not with this you won't." I grow stern, I can feel water circulating on the outer edges of my eyes again as I get emotional. Are we having a fight? Things have been going so well.

He shakes his head, noticing my formulating tears and he narrows his eyes in confusion. He tilts his head, his tone growing softer for a moment. "Arielle. I love you. Okay? You know I do." He says calmly as he uncrosses his arms, walking toward me quickly. My emotions seem to cause him slight guilt. When he reaches me, he places his hands on either side of my waist softly.

"I'll protect you. You know I will. Til' the end of time.  I'll always protect you." He reminds me, his words coming out as a whisper as he leans in closely to me. I look up at him, one of his hands moving from my waist to my cheek as he caresses it delicately.

"I just need to know what I'm protecting you from." He whispers.

I swallow, taking a deep breath before exhaling even deeper. It's seems that's all I can do. It's sigh. Breathe. Sigh. It's hard to talk about. I understand his concern, but I'm scared to talk about it.

I open my mouth to explain further but before I can get it out there's a knock on the door.

"Hello?" A small, male voice calls from the other side. One of the workers. "Is this the room of Ms. Arielle Anson?" He asks, raising his voice a bit louder. I pull away from a disappointed and agitated Bruce, who lets me go as I walk towards the door. I grab the doorknob, opening the door slowly. Sure enough, a worker.

"Hi! I'm Arielle, yes. How can I help you?" I ask, smiling warmly as I hold the door open.

"Hannah has requested your presence at the bar." He says quietly, giving me a small smile in return. Hannah wants me in the bar? This late? She must be having pre-wedding jitters. Cold feet. Maybe she wants to jump off the boat. In this moment, I'm pretty sure I'd jump with her.

"Oh, uh. Okay. Thank you sir." I thank him kindly and he immediately leaves, heading down the hall. I look back at Bruce, who watches me from the bed. "Go on. We'll talk later." He sighs, looking unhappy with me. But he forces a small smile to let me know he isn't upset with me. Just concerned. And I love him even more for that.

I grab my phone and I shut the door behind me, giving Bruce a thankful smile before I quickly make my way to the bar upstairs. When I reach the top, I walk inside, only to discover there's no bartender. The lights are on, as if someone has been waiting. But no bartender. I look around curiously, but shrug to myself as I sit on a barstool near the middle. Maybe Hannah went to grab something. I can wait. Why would she invite me up to the bar with no bartender?

[[Play song above for this next scene.]]

Suddenly music begins to play, "Star Spangled" by REMMI, casually over the speakers. My brows furrow, my head turning as my eyes pan the room for an answer. "Hannah?" I call out, my tone confused. My stomach feels a bit uneasy. "What are you doing?" I call out once more. No response. More lights turn on, colorful ones by the bar just above me to make the area look a bit more cool. The main, yellow lights turn off, so that now it looks like a club. I sit up from the barstool, holding my breath as the fear slowly begins to creep in. What the hell is she doing? She's freaking me out. If she's trying some cute gesture, it's failing epically. "Dude. Where the hell are you?" I question again, moving a few feet from the actual bar itself. I look out the glass windows, I see no one. I walk behind the bar this time, my confused eyes still studying each entrance of the bar carefully. I look under the bar to see if she's hiding there, attempting to jump out and scare me at some point. Something doesn't feel right.

I walk back to my little bar stool, and I sit down again. Maybe she's just setting everything up from a different room and can't hear me. I'm sure that's all it is. I'm just paranoid. Because Im here alone. The main lights just turned off, it's eerie. We're in the middle of the ocean. I take a deep breath, trying to reel myself in. Everything's fine. I hear footsteps near the only non-glass door, the door that leads to the bottom floor. It's two large double doors carved and etched in golden patterns. It leads directly from this base floor to the bottom floor. Perhaps she's coming up from there. The doorknobs move, and high of the doors open up. The light shines from the opening, only who I expected to walk through doesn't. No, it's definitely not Hannah.

"Oh, hi!" Grant exclaims in an exaggerated tone, his face brightening and his lips curving into a wide smirk.

"It's been damn too long since I've seen that beautiful face of yours." He bites his bottom lip, holding a small box—perhaps a piece of jewelry.

My eyes widen, my chest tightening as my heart stops. My jaw drops and I stand up from my bar stool, mortified. What the fuck.

"No, sit. Sit back down. We have a lot to talk about." He says like an order, his dark eyes staring at me intently. He slowly walks over to the other side of the bar, eyeing all the liquor on the shelves above. Out of fear I sit back down, but I can feel myself shaking slightly.

I'm an agent now. I've had training. Training from Steve Rogers himself. I could kick Grant's ass if he dared to put his hands on me. I don't know why I'm still so afraid of him. Maybe the leftover trauma, the memories. He grabs two glasses and fills them with bourbon. He turns around, facing me from across the bar—as if he's the bartender.

"A drink for my ex-miss'." He smirks, placing the glass in front of me. I watch him carefully, my wide eyes filled with terror.

"What do you want." I spit, giving him an angry look.

"To talk." He says calmly, taking a sip of his drink.
"We don't have anything to talk about, Grant." I argue, leaving the drink in front of me filled. He tilts his head.

"Ooh, I see there's still some residual anger towards me, am I correct?" He questions, faking a concerned look as he studies me.

"The last time I saw you, you had me on the floor. Why would you be surprised that there's any residual anger towards you?" I say angrily, my words coming out hateful.

He smiles, chuckling to himself as he takes another drink. "Let's talk about your new boyfriend." He quickly changes the subject. My heart stops again. What in the hell could he possibly be up to now? "You know what he is. Yet you still chose to threaten the safety of everyone on this boat regardless?" He raises a brow. My blood boils. "The only dangerous thing on this boat is you." I hiss.

His smile fades, and his expression becomes serious—proud, even. "Maybe. Maybe now. But I wasn't back then."

My brows furrow, "what do you mean now?" I question him. He downs the rest of his drink, before smacking it onto the counter. He pours himself some more. I watch him worriedly. "I learned something—while I was in Germany. About your boyfriend." He takes another sip.

"Don't." I warn, glaring at him. "Don't what?" He asks, clearly amused. "That anger of his is so delicate, isn't it?" He smirks. I snap, realizing what he might be letting on. I stand up, pushing my drink across the counter until it spills. He grabs onto my wrist tightly, and I attempt to pull away—but his grip stays.

"Let go of my arm. Now." I spit.

"I'm not done talking to you yet." He argues, squeezing tighter.

The glass doors behind me open up, and I hear footsteps. "What the hell is going on in here?" Bruce asks from behind me. My eyes widen, I quickly try to rip my arm from Grant again but he doesn't let go.

"Bruce—." I start but Grant interrupts me. "And there he is. The angry man himself." He narrows his eyes, smirking widely. Bruce's eyes flash a radioactive green, his jaw clenched. "Take your hand of her." He says calmly, but his tone is filled with quiet rage. I watch his chest rising, his breathing quickening as he clenches his fists tightly.

I rip myself from him, breaking free this time. I back up, moving towards Bruce. Bruce grabs me and pushes me softly behind him, guarding me. "Want to tell me what you want?" Bruce questions him, I notice his hands beginning to shake.

"Bruce, don't. Let's just—." I attempt to get out of the situation but Grant talks over me like he always does. "I wanted to talk to her. I wanted to see her again." He starts, a smirk only widening as his amusement grows. I place my hand on Bruce's arm. He's shaking, breathing quickening as he tries to hold back his anger. I try to pull him backward towards me and the exit.

"I wanted to get her drunk, convince her that she misses me and that bringing you here was a mistake. Kiss her, fuck her, and then remind her that she's still mine. Remind her where she came from. And if she didn't allow me to get that far? Make her get that far." Grant says creepily, his tone and expression turning to anger and a type of hatred I've never seen before.

"Fuck..." Bruce whispers to me, his shaking becoming too much. His eyes glow green again. "I'm gonna kill him." He growls as he tries to move forward but I grab him, pulling him back. "No, Bruce. No. Please. He isn't worth it. Let's just get back to our room." I plead.

"How does it feel? Knowing you'll never be able to give her the things I could? Does that make you angry?" Grant continues. I know exactly what his motive is here. Chaos. Bruce growls again, clenching his teeth as he spits angry words at him, "I could beat the life out of you and not even change a shade." I hold him back tightly, but I feel him fighting me to let go.

"Right. They told me you'd say something like that." Grant nods, moving out from the bar and slowly walking towards us. "But see...the thing is, I don't want to fight with you. I just want to push you. A little too far." He continues, stopping just a foot or so from Bruce. I grab Bruce's arm tighter, holding him close to me. "Because I know that's all it takes—Bruce. Just a little snap." He whispers, leaning in closely to Bruce's face—his eyes narrowed. He then looks at me. "I'll see you two at the ceremony tomorrow. Sleep well." He says in a fake, creepy nice voice. He pushes past us, his shoulder bumping against Bruce's shoulder before he walks past us and out of the room.

Bruce exhales deeply as if he'd been holding his breath. "Dammit Ari." He groans, pulling himself from me and pushing out of the glass doors and onto the deck. I run after him, "Bruce?" I call out behind him. He stumbles to the head of the boat—the tip. He leans over the edge, his head lowered as he catches his breath, taking deep inhales and exhales, his hands grip the railing so tight it makes his skin white. I rush to his side, placing a hand on his upper back. He breathes slowly, over and over until the green leaves his eyes and the shaking stops. He almost lost it back there.

"I swear to God I'll kill him. I can't let myself lose it. He'll be dead. That's a warning." He says breathlessly, looking over at me now in agony. He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. I place my hands on either side of his face before pulling him into me. I wrap my arms around him tightly. "I'm sorry, I know. I told you, this is why I didn't wanna talk to you about it." I try to explain as I hold him. He rests his face in the crook of my neck, his arms slowly moving around my waist tightly. His hands grip me, "What did he do to you Arielle." He demands this time, pulling his head from me and looking me in the eyes. The dark night is quiet, all that's heard is the water. The cool wind blows on us softly. I shake my head, "You'll get angry." I warn.

"I will. But I need to know. I need to know what I'm protecting you from. Please." He begs me, swear forming on his forehead. I pause, looking at him wearily and in fear. I take a deep breath.

"He—He put his hands on me. He hurt me. That's it. That's all you need to know. That's it." I finally let out with a deep sigh. "He hurt me bad." I slowly begin to cry, placing a hand over my mouth as hearing the words out loud for the first time upsets me. My eyes widen, filling with tears. Instead of getting angry, Bruce's face drops with sorrow. With guilt for pushing me. He immediately grabs me, pulling me into his arms lovingly. He runs a hand through the hair on the back of my head, shushing my small cries. He kisses my cheek, just holding me.

"Shhh, it's okay. You're with me, now." He says soothingly. "I'll keep you safe. I'll protect you. He won't touch you again, and that's a promise." He sighs, shaking his head as he grips me tighter.