AN I don't own Marvel or any of its characters! WinterWidow angsty fluff.
It was six weeks after they brought Bucky into shield that Natasha heard the knock on her door. She knew it wasn't Clint immediately because the person didn't punch in the code and come in, they waited. When she opened it, though, she was not prepared for him. They'd fought before and she'd seen him in that state that was the Winter Soldier. But not this. This was something else entirely-a new kind of broken that stemmed from something deep inside not something external-and she felt her heart wrench just looking at it. Sad, cold, empty eyes stared back at her.
"I know you're like me." She just stared at him, not quite comprehending the situation. He didn't say anything else, it didn't seem like he could manage any more words, but he just stared at her, pleading her with those dead eyes to give him something to hold onto. Something just clicked and she motioned him into the room, locking the door behind him. She offered him a seat, still silent, and he took it but only because he was already shaking.
"Bucky-do you want me to call you Bucky?" He hesitated, but nodded. "I want you to know that I have a reputation here at shield. They call me a backstabber and a turncoat-and they aren't wrong. I'm telling you this so you hear it from me, not anyone else. I turn on organizations and I turn on lies, but I do not turn on friends. That was a new concept to me, and I suspect you too, but I've been working on it and I would like us to be friends. Is that okay?" He nodded.
"Okay, good. From now on I want you to do what you can, okay? If that means you can only answer with a yes or a no, then do it. I know it's going to be uncomfortable but I want you to do that for me. Is that okay?" He nodded again but stopped himself.
"Yes." It was short, clipped, like he had to struggle to get it out, but he said it.
"Good, I know that's not easy for you, but it means a lot to me. I know you're struggling, Bucky. If I had to guess, I would say it feels like you can't really breathe or think because you're just falling through empty space. Is that true?"
"Yes." He was stone still in the chair, refusing to even move his hands onto his lap. Undoubtedly part of his training.
"Good, that's okay. Now, this second part is really important so please be completely honest with me. If I ask for a color, or if you're uncomfortable in any way, you have three options. Green means you're alright, and you want to keep going. Yellow means that you need to slow down or take a break for a minute, but you'll be okay. Red means stop everything immediately because you are not okay. Can you do that for me?"
"Yes." She smiled, trying to get him to relax a bit in the chair, but he wouldn't. He probably didn't even realize he was doing it. Slowly, so as not to startle him, she moved to the linen closet beside her bathroom and pulled out two plush towels which she laid out on the floor in the center of the room, doubled over to form a pad.
"Kneel." Before the word was even out of her mouth all the way he was on the floor obeying. She tried not to analyze it, but she did. He was perched up on his knees, letting all the weight sit on his kneecaps, with his arms at his sides and his eyes straight ahead locked on the wall. Maybe it was nothing, but she noticed. He'd put himself in the most painful and exhaustive position possible. Was that what he was merely used to? Or did he think that was what she wanted from him?
"Sit back on your legs, tuck your feet under. Hands resting on your thighs, palms open towards the ceiling." He shifted immediately into the position she described. "This is your relaxed position. If I tell you to relax, or if I give you the command 'floor' this is the position you go to, understand?"
"Yes." His voice wavered ever so slightly but it was more emotion than she'd ever heard and it made her hesitate.
"Color?" His eyes closed but she was carefully monitoring his breathing, watching for any signs of panic or distress.
"Green." She pulled her desk chair over in front of him and took a seat but he didn't look up, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the floor in front of him.
"You can look at me, if you want." He didn't move, though, so she figured he was more comfortable and more familiar this way. "Now, Bucky, we're going to start slowly. I'm going to sit here, with my hands out like this, and I want you to touch me when you're comfortable with it. Nothing crazy, you don't have to hug me or anything like that, just put your palms against mine when you feel like you're ready, okay?"
"Yes." She watched him stiffen like he was preparing himself for pain and he lifted his hand towards her but she stopped him with her voice alone.
"No," He froze, clearly so sensitive to any negative reinforcement out of fear, but she just made a note. "Don't force yourself. I want you to wait until you're comfortable with the idea of touching my hand, okay? Take your time, this is important." He nodded, taking a deep breath, and returned to his original position. Slowly, he managed to lift his eyes to her hand-level. He looked at them for a long time, longer than he seemed to think he should have, and reached out with his metal hand to easily touch hers. But she didn't flinch, even when it was cold. That seemed to surprise him, which only made her more sad. He was used to people being afraid of him, especially his metal arm, and he was suspicious because she wasn't. But his human hand was a different story entirely and he had to fight himself to even hover it above hers, trembling in the air.
"Take your time, Bucky, we're in no rush." He swallowed hard but held it there, like their hands were opposite sides of a magnet forcing themselves apart. Slowly, he dropped his pointer finger to touch her palm.
"Good, you're doing so good Bucky." He managed another finger before he had to take a deep breath. "Don't be afraid to pull back, okay? It's not reverse progress or anything like that. You can stop and try again whenever you want, as many times as you need." He nodded but didn't take his hand away. It didn't surprise her that he was the type to force himself through the discomfort rather than start again, but it did make her sigh internally. She was careful not to do it externally though, at risk of scaring him. Clearly he was very acutely sensitive to negative feedback and he was used to receiving pain at the slightest hint of displeasure from his master.
"Good, so good, I'm so proud of you Bucky." That managed to encourage him, somehow, to press their palms flat together and she smiled at him when he looked up to her for approval. "Good! That's great! Now, deep breaths. Whenever you're comfortable, I want you familiarize yourself with my hands, okay? Learn the callouses, the shape of my palm, everything. I want you to be able to recognize my touch. Color?"
"Green." He shook when he said it but she accepted it nonetheless. It was gradual and very slow going but he managed to take her hands in his and explore them, thumbing over the creases and learning the patterns of her fingerprints.
"Relax." It was a test, in part, to see if he remembered what she'd said in the beginning, but the way he snapped back to attention made her chest ache. Like she'd given him an order-which she had-and she would zap him the second he didn't comply. She pushed the chair back and kneeled in front of him so they were equal.
"Bucky, listen to me very closely. You do not ever have to flinch or run away from me, okay? I will not hurt you, not even as punishment, and I never want you to be afraid of me." He was still staring at the floor, unblinking, so she gently caught his chin with her forefinger and lifted his face to meet her eyes. "You came to me for help. From this moment on, I am a safe place for you, okay? Any reason, any time, anything you ever need, I'm here. I am not someone you need to fear, I'm not a threat or someone you need to fight, I'm your warm bed after a hard job. Do you understand me?" He nodded while he gathered his voice but still flinched. Like she was going to hit him for not responding verbally right away.
"Yes." She smiled at him to show she wasn't upset.
"I would like to touch your face, is that okay?" He mumbled out a yes, still trembling with every breath. Gently, she reached up and cupped his jaw. She put everything she had into make that touch as soft as gentle as she could possibly make it without making it hesitant and, almost instantly, he sank into it. He startled back to his relaxed position, looking surprised that he'd just done that.
"It's okay, you can let yourself go. I'll catch you, always, and I will tell you if I need you to stay with me for some reason. Color?" He nuzzled into her palm every so slightly and tipped to that side.
"Green.." That time, it was more of a sigh.
"You look exhausted, Bucky. Do you want to sleep?" He keened again, almost falling completely into her hand.
"Yes." She nodded and eased him down onto the towel pad. She was going to leave him alone, let him rest now that he was relaxed some, but he grabbed for her wrist when she tried to stand. There were tears in his eyes.
"What do you need, Bucky?" But he shook his head and buried his face in the towels, refusing to let go of her arm. "I will do anything and everything I can to fulfill your needs but you have to tell me what they are. What do you need?" Again, he shook his head. Judging by the way his shoulders trembled, he was crying and she understood that he wouldn't want her to see his face. She wasn't going to make him look at her, but she'd asked for an answer.
"Sergeant Barnes," He jolted instantly at the formal title and gripped her wrist a little tighter. "I asked you a question. Don't make me ask again." He wasn't testing the limits intentionally-at least she didn't think so-but he needed to know that they were there. That she was in control.
"I-" He stopped, choking on the words. "Don't leave." That was enough, for now. She sat back down beside him and ran a hand through his hair, watching his shoulders shake with silent tears.
"Good, thank you. Do you want me to stay like this or lay with you?" He just nodded, still crying, so she eased herself down onto the floor with him so they would be face to face if he looked up. He didn't, of course, but she didn't mind. She just kept playing with his hair and every now and then she rubbed his back soothingly. He just hid his face.
Realistically, she knew he was hiding more than the tears and probably wanted, if not needed, more from her in that moment but she wasn't going to push him any harder right now and she wasn't going to guess wrong so they stayed like that. At least, like that, she couldn't see the self hatred in his face. The emotion screaming for more contact, more affection, more anything to ground him in reality and the thoughts pushing that back, telling himself that she wouldn't want him like that. He was a fucking mess, after all. But, thankfully, she couldn't see any of that because it might have shattered her right then and there.
It took time, a lot of time, but she made him practice voicing his needs and he got more comfortable with it. Only with her, of course, but it was progress. He usually tried, at first, with just a please or a whimper but she would always shake her head and make him say what he needed. Until he came to her in the middle of the night. He woke her up with his knock but she wasn't annoyed because he usually only woke her up when it was bad or on accident. This time, though, was clearly the former. He was on his knees before she even opened the door, tears streaming down his face and his human arm clutched to his chest. She started to ask what he needed, but he just held out his hands. They were covered in blood.
"Bucky, Bucky listen to me this is very important that you answer. Is this your blood?" He nodded, trembling and unable to look up from the floor, and that was when she saw the huge, deep cut in his human wrist. Immediately, she lunged for it and started applying pressure but he just dropped the pocket knife onto the floor and sobbed.
"I'm sorry," he breathed, practically groveling at her feet, but she just focused on his wrist and treated it as best she could with the med kit under her bed. Only when his life was no longer in danger did she turn her attention back to him. Slowly, she knelt in front of him where he was holding his relaxed position without her even asking and she took his hands in hers, being careful not to move his injured wrist wrong.
"Bucky," She cupped his jaw and thumbed under his eye to brush the tears away but he just shuddered. "Bucky, please come here." She gestured and, even though it was more contact than they'd tried before, she held her arms open to him. He fell into her immediately.
"I'm sorry I'm so sorry I-" But she cut him off as he nuzzled against her stomach, running her hand through his hair. Tears fell down her cheeks but she tried to ignore them. He'd tried to kill himself. He'd tried to kill himself and he'd come to her, at two am, with blood on his hands when he wanted to end it all and everything in him screamed to just die. He'd come to her.
"Shhh it's okay, it's going to be okay. Just breathe. I've got you, you're safe. Just breathe." He did, trembling against her stomach, but it didn't stop her tears. She smoothed his hair, whispering gentle reassurances and reminders to breathe, until he was as steady as he was going to get.
"Bucky, please tell me why you did that to yourself." He let out a sob but she just held his head until he quieted.
"Because I'm weak! Because I'm useless and I'm just bringing everyone else down with me. I keep hurting people no matter what I do-"
"And you don't think this," She touched his bandaged wrist. "Counts as hurting someone?" He just sobbed into her shirt, shaking and trembling with every breath like his body was trying to make it his last. She stroked his hair, trying to think of what would help.
"Bucky, please listen to me. I know that physical contact makes you uncomfortable but I also know how much you relax into my touch sometimes. Tell me, please, if this is too far but would it help to cuddle right now?" He hesitated, suddenly silent in her lap, but she waited for the verbal response she knew he was working up towards. A yes or a no, that was all she'd ever asked of him.
"Please." She almost choked on her own oxygen, both at the word and the desperation behind it. Immediately, she pulled him up and onto her bed. It was more than they'd ever done before but she eased him down onto the mattress and situated them so that he was lying on his stomach with his head on her chest, half his body thrown over hers. He was bigger than her but she still managed to hold the back of his neck and play with his hair with one hand, while rubbing his back with the other. She deliberately kept his injured hand close, pressed just over her heart, so he could feel her presence.
"I've got you," she whispered, trying to soothe him enough to get him to sleep. "It's okay, you're safe. I'm here and I've got you, you can relax now." And he did, sinking into her a little more with every word. Gently, she kissed his forehead. That, it seemed, was enough to lull him to sleep.
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