AN: Again, thank you to everyone who reviewed! I was finally able to reply to all of them, and you guys are great. And thanks to everyone who are now following/favorited. : )
And oh yeah, spoilers for Civil War. Just saying.
When in Romania
"Seems that the wrath of the Gods
Got a punch on the nose and it started to flow;
I think I might be sinking.
Throw me a line if I reach it in time
I'll meet you up there where the path
Runs straight and high,"
—Led Zeppelin, "Going to California"
III: Bucky Barnes
SIX MONTHS LATER
The breaking news in Vienna yesterday rapidly becomes breaking news all over Europe the next.
"But it wasn't you!"
"Doesn't matter. If the German government doesn't find me first, somebody else will."
"I should come. I could help—"
He knew he shouldn't have come to see her first.
"No," Bucky cuts her off firmly. "They haven't found me yet. They're not finding you."
Before she can reply, he gently enough grabs her by the arms and meets her eyes, and she knows he's making sure she feels what he feels so she understands.
"You're untrained. You'll hesitate. They won't," he says, but his gaze lingers on her face and softens. "I don't know if I could get both of us out of the country."
Her face falls in dejection. She feels his guilt rise but she still can't mask her own disappointment.
Bucky hates that look. Because he's not, and will never be safe for her.
Still, even after over a year of living in this country, away from lies and HYDRA and missions, he doesn't want to let her go.
But he has to.
So he withdraws his hands.
"I have to go," he says, schooling his voice and expression blank. "Whatever happens, whatever you see on TV, don't leave from here."
Her eyes are still sad. But she grabs his hand. Hesitates. Then she rises up on her toes, kisses his stubbled cheek before smiling a little at his surprised face. She hides her blush with downcast eyes.
"Go. Don't let them find you," she says, knowing it's too selfish to ask whether he'll come back for her, and too stupid to say, "Be safe."
Will I ever see you again? It's likely that she won't, and the thought makes her eyes sting with the beginnings of tears. But it's his turn to surprise her when he leans down to briefly press his forehead to hers.
"Thank you," he says. She closes her eyes, allowing his deep voice to wash over her.
Then he's gone.
"…Captain America and the Winter Soldier found in an apartment building and are being pursued by German police…"
Milena paces the living room while tugging at her reddish-brown hair in nervous agitation.
Despite preferring to walk to work, she does have a car parked in the garage behind the building. She wishes she would've thought to give it to Bucky, but she's watching him on the news, in real time, jumping out of his building to the one below. She's just glad Captain America seems to be trying to help him escape.
"What am I thinking?" she asks herself aloud. She has a job. She has a life. If she leaves, she'll probably never be able to come back.
If she tries to help him, a labeled assassin and terrorist, she'll be marked as a criminal.
I've already helped him by not going to the police.
Then she hears the screech of tires outside, car doors opening and closing. She cautiously peeks down from her window and sees two black sedans and men in black uniforms and guns making their way into her apartment building.
"Shit."
Are they here for him, or me?
She doesn't think she should wait to ask.
Milena grabs her cell phone and keys, hurls them into her purse and is thankful she's wearing jeans and a tank-top, because she doesn't have time to change. Instead she climbs onto the kitchen counter and makes her way out the window.
The ground is three stories below, but there's a rickety ladder that runs from the ground all the way to the roof. The problem is it's at least two feet away from the window.
She perches precariously on the windowsill and uses the wall to balance. The first time she reaches for the ladder, her fingers just scrape the metal bar.
She nearly jumps out of her skin when she hears shouting and a battering ram being used at the front door.
Come on! she yells in her head. Fucking jump, damn it! You can do this.
She reaches out again as far as she dares, and once her hand closes over the bar she's able to swing over, uttering a short scream when she nearly loses her footing and slides a few inches down. Arms shaking, she scrambles fast halfway down with her purse still on her shoulder, but looks up when two police officers are looking down at her from the window. They aim their guns.
Immediately she sends a wave of pain and confusion that hits them simultaneously, causing them to recoil and grab at their heads instead of their guns.
She faces a similar problem when her feet hit the grass and she's surrounded by about ten officers. The majority of their unit was probably chasing Bucky and Captain America, not worried about one ordinary woman.
"Drop the bag! Raise your hands above your head," one shouts in German. She doesn't understand much of it, but the point comes across.
Maybe their intel is a bit incomplete.
.
.
.
BERLIN, GERMANY – Five Hours Later
This is the kind of shit that gives Tony heart palpitations.
Before he goes upstairs to deal with Steve, he takes the elevator down a couple floors.
"Who is she?"
"According to public record, she's a Romanian citizen under alias Lesya Belevich."
"According to other records?" he asks FRIDAY. The A.I. takes a moment to compile the data.
"Born Milena Mikhailovna Malikov in Moscow—November 3, 1961."
"Why doesn't anyone look their age anymore?" he sighs. "What else?"
Milena wakes with a groan. Her eyes open to a room with metal walls, white floors, and glass panels displaying a long hallway outside the room. She's lying in a hard bed with her head bandaged, which makes sense because the ache in her head is excruciating.
The second she tries to sit up her hand flies to her ribs as she hisses in pain.
"I wouldn't try getting up just yet if I were you," a male voice says in English, she thinks from some kind of intercom.
"Where am I?" she asks, still groggy. Whoever saw to her wounds drugged her with something. Her brain is kind of fuzzy.
"Berlin. Specifically the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre. Mouthful, I know," he says. "You wiped out pretty epically for getting just five miles from your apartment."
Whoever he is, he sounds annoying.
"Traffic was bad," she says, gritting her teeth when she sits up the rest of the way and slowly swings her legs off the bed. Her body feels numb and sluggish.
"You can thank the Tin Soldier for that."
She stills.
"What are you talking about?"
"Surveillance put Barnes leaving your apartment. Then the news got you escaping out the window and dropping a dozen German police without even touching 'em."
Milena suppresses a sigh and rotates a stiff shoulder.
"Kind of interesting. Until you crashed into a pick-up truck. You've got lacerations and a couple broken ribs, some bruising and probably one hell of a headache."
She remembers police cars trailing her, remembers being too busy looking behind to see the cars stopped short in front of her because of traffic at the tunnel, her forehead hitting the steering wheel and nothing after.
"Who are you?" she asks out of irritation. The wounds will heal in a few hours anyway.
"Sorry. I like to skip pleasantries," he says. "Tony Stark. Genius, billionaire, former-playboy, philanthropist. You might've heard of me."
"Makes sense," she murmurs. "I can feel your narcissism from here."
Which wasn't entirely a lie. She felt a presence from the floor above her. But she couldn't know if it was Stark.
"Heard that," he remarks. "Sooo, what exactly are you?"
Milena smiles slightly.
"What makes you think I am a 'what?'"
"Glowing eyes tend to do that."
She rolls hers, but remains silent.
"Fine. Who are you?"
"I'm sure you have my contact information by now," she says dryly.
"If you mean that you're a fifty-something in a twenty-something body, then yeah. HYDRA files are pretty easy to get a hold of nowadays, but it's much easier for somebody like me to get a grip on the juicy stuff."
She huffs. Figures.
"What do you want then?"
"Just thought I'd let you know you're not alone in paradise," Stark says. A pause, maybe a hesitation. "Barnes is in the building…somewhere. Can't tell you where."
Milena tenses, silently sucking in a breath.
"What have you done to him?"
"Nothing. Except give him a nice cube to sit and think in for a while."
"What do you plan to do?"
"Nothing except what the law, and public safety, requires. We're not savages."
"Really? What do you call unleashing a creature that tries to eradicate humanity?" she asks.
"…A mistake."
"I'm sure," she wearily replies.
"Seriously though, what do you see in the guy? You dig dangerous, federal fugitives?"
"You're a nosy man."
"It's been said."
She glares down at the white floor.
"Listen, I'm actually one of the few people on your side. Talk to me now, and maybe you don't get put in jail for hiding a marked terrorist."
"On my side?" she snaps. "Why is it you're not down here talking to me in person? Are you afraid I'll zap your brain through the metal doors?"
"I'm the one who talked the higher-ups out of putting a metal shock collar around your neck, so yeah. I am on your side."
"Apparently the two of them met about a year ago after he got into Romania," he tells Steve. "She's been trying to help him with his memories, given their somewhat shared history."
Steve shakes his head, amazed.
"That's…"
"Crazy, considering she's a lot more breakable than him. But whatever," Tony shrugs.
"Does Bucky know she's here?"
"Doubt it."
"I should tell him."
"You don't have a visitors pass," Tony shoots him a look. Steve's jaw clenches in irritation. Tony looks up at the monitors again and sighs.
"She's got potential…I can take her to the compound, keep Wanda and Vision company."
"Would she agree to that?" Steve asks.
"If it keeps her out of jail," Tony replies. "She thought she was helping 'im."
Steve frowns. He glances at the monitor that has Bucky in view, strapped into several metal constraints.
"Maybe she did."
Tony wants to scoff.
"Obviously not enough," he says. "Look, we've got other things to talk about."
.
.
Bucky watches the psychiatrist come in, but tries not to answer his questions, his prodding of James this and James that. The condescension in his voice is irritating.
"My name is Bucky."
The correction ends up not making a difference, but the sudden blackout does.
.
.
Milena looks up in confusion when the power goes out.
"What the hell?" she mutters. "Hello? What's going on?"
No one answers her, but the heightened distress she feels coming from somewhere in the building (not far away), the unique emotional signature, is familiar.
Bucky.
Her heart drops into her stomach as the negative waves become more intense. What could be happening to him?
"Stark!"
When she hears doors sliding open, she slowly stands from the bed, hissing in pain, and moves to the glass panels. It's not long before Captain America and another man she doesn't know are jogging toward her cell.
"Captain! Steve Rogers," she calls. "Please let me out."
"You're Milena right?" Steve says as they approach the cell. She can tell he wants to keep moving, so she nods quickly.
"If he's in trouble, I can help him," she says. After a second of weighing his options, Steve pulls the two panels of the door sliding open.
"Stay behind us unless it's necessary for you to protect yourself."
"Got it."
She looks over to the lean, well-built African American man to her right, and he nods at her.
"I'm Sam."
"Milena."
Though it's painful, she has to run to keep up with both men's long strides. They turn a corner and soon enough there is a scattering of unconscious bodies in front of Bucky Barnes' now open cell.
Inside is a man prone on the floor, face pained.
"Help me," he says to Sam, who nearly gets to him before he's grabbed by the jaw and hurled into the glass cube that once held Bucky. But the man that kicks Steve into the far wall is not Bucky.
Milena calls his name anyway, earns his sharp attention, and projects calm to his mind after locking her eyes with his. Unknown to her, the man from before slips away behind her.
"Bucky, it's me," she says soothingly.
He stops, but not because he recognizes her. His eyes are that of the Winter Soldier, and though she fights to keep herself controlled, she is scared. Her hands are shaking, cold sweat running down her neck and spine.
"Can you stop him?" Steve asks. He stands nearby, recovered from the hit he took.
"I'm trying, don't distract me," she snaps.
Her abilities lie in her confidence as well as control over her own emotions, but she feels the whirlwind of violent intent that lies under his skin. It pushes at her as he stalks toward her, one step at a time. Steve tenses, ready to step in at the first sign of danger.
"Bucky?" she asks again. His eyes only hold the weight of his mission.
The moment she allows her fear to make her projection waver is the moment he snaps her control. Though Steve holds back his metal arm, the Soldier uses the other to backhand her in the jaw, and with a grunt she stumbles and falls. By the time she lifts her head again, the Soldier and Steve are gone.
So she slowly slides up to her hands and knees just as Sam is waking up. He gets to his feet and helps her the rest of the way onto her feet.
"You okay?" he asks.
"'Okay' is relative," she says dryly. The drug-haze is almost gone, her ribcage is screaming and her head is pounding, but other than that, she's fine.
"All right, come on."
He leads her out of the cell and down the nearest flight of stairs.
"Where are we going? Shouldn't we be helping Steve?" she asks.
"Steve can take him," Sam says. "But if we can't find the doctor, we're all gunna need a getaway car when this is over, not to mention a way to pin down Barnes."
.
.
.
One Hour Later
Bucky wakes in a dilapidated warehouse with his metal arm in a vice.
Milena no longer feels killing intent from him, but the Captain is still cautious.
"Steve?" Bucky asks, his voice a little hoarse. Milena also senses a change in him, what exactly she doesn't know yet.
"Which Bucky am I talking to?" Steve asks warily.
"Your mom's name is Sarah," Bucky says, slow but steady. Then he chuckles a little. "You used to stuff newspapers in your shoes."
Milena watches Steve's spine loosen, and happiness blooms in her chest when she realizes what the change is.
"Can't read that in a museum," Steve says with a smile.
"So just like that we're supposed to be cool?" Sam asks skeptically.
When Bucky's gaze shifts from Steve to Milena, she takes a half-step towards him, reminding herself that his eyes are no longer blank—that he won't hurt her if she reaches out because it's him again, not the Soldier.
"You still remember me, right?" she asks quietly, a quirk of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. He smiles a little in return.
"Yeah." She makes her way over to him and threads her fingers in his hair, smoothing strands away from his eyes. He looks up at her, slightly pained, with furrowed brows.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he asks, frustration in his voice.
"You weren't so slick leaving my apartment," she teases. "They brought me to Berlin, same as you."
He sighs in resignation. Then his eyes roam over her face, lingering below her cheek as his lips pull into a deeper frown.
His fingers trail over the dark bruise forming along her jaw. She feels his heavy guilt like it's in her own chest.
"It was my fault," she says. "Control over my abilities starts with control over my own emotions. I got distracted."
His gaze shifts down. "I still did that to you."
"I forgive you then," she says with another teasing grin. "Satisfied?"
His lips twitch at a smile despite himself.
"No."
"…Bucky," Steve says a bit reluctantly, but it earns the other man's attention. "I'm sorry, but I need to know what the doctor wanted from you."
Bucky tries to think, but it's still a little hazy. Memories are still flooding back every time he thinks of something else. It makes it hard to concentrate.
"I don't know…"
"This guy went through a hell of a lot just to get ten minutes with you. I need better than 'I don't know,'" Steve presses.
Bucky thinks harder. With Milena's supportive hand on his shoulder, his thoughts begin to clear.
"He wanted to know about Siberia," he says slowly, "the facility where I was kept. He wanted to know where it was."
"Why would he want to know that?" Steve asks.
"Because I'm not the only Winter Soldier."
He explains the best he can what happened in 1991, and the more Milena hears, the more horrified she becomes, as well as more grateful that it happened after she escaped that same facility.
Five more Winter Soldiers, who were not captured like Bucky was, but volunteered. This man who triggered Bucky's programming, whoever he was, has to be stopped before he wakes them up and throws the world into chaos.
Steve rapidly begins to figure out a plan, though it's obvious that Tony Stark won't believe anything they tell him (just because Steve's judgment is "biased") and will try to stop them.
Once Steve lets Bucky's arm out of the vice, the four of them squeeze into the Volkswagen Beetle Sam was able to find. Milena thought it would be a better idea before she watches Bucky squeeze next to her into the backseat, his knees hitting the back of the passenger seat where Sam sits.
Bucky's face is grumpy as Steve starts to drive (she's learned the difference between his serious face and his brooding face). And along with the emotions she's getting from him, she can't help an amused grin. He looks over at her and raises a brow at her. She feels his amusement at seeing hers.
"Comfortable?" she asks him playfully in Russian. His lips twitch at a grin.
Bucky doesn't know why he does it, but he slides his metal arm casually on the back of her seat and leans closer to her—close enough that she blushes at the proximity.
Maybe because it's a move his old self was familiar with pulling in the past, and he likes the way she looks at him when she blushes.
"Are you?" He tries his best not to smirk. Meanwhile, she's caught off guard by the look in his eyes as hers widen. Is he…flirting with her? She flushes more at the thought.
.
.
Steve glances at the two in the rearview mirror and the corner of his lips lift in a slight smile. He's glad Bucky met someone, that he wasn't alone all this time he's been missing. But he can't help a little twinge of something, seeing how comfortable they are, how in tune she seems to be with him when he hasn't felt that way with his best friend in a long time.
.
.
Milena feels Steve's gladness, as well as a strain of jealousy and feels badly for him. The two have been friends for a lifetime, yet even with his memories restored, there is still distance that has yet to be bridged between them. They just don't have the time to sort it all out now.
Sam, who still has his cell phone (untraceable thanks to an upgrade last year from Stark), gets a call that has them parking under an overpass in the middle of relative nowhere.
Milena discreetly watches Bucky's reaction when Steve parts with a pretty blonde CIA agent after a passionate kiss; she feels the same warm feelings (and amusement that Sam shares), without the jealousy. She realizes it's different for Bucky, who hasn't been trying to get Steve to remember him for the past few years.
But once Steve is back in the car, his and Sam's uniform suites and gear in the trunk, it's time to talk seriously.
"We're gunna need some help," Steve says. Sam glances over at him.
"I can make the calls," he says.
"Can you get Clint on the line?"
"Yeah, give me a minute. This place is nearly a dead zone."
"Who're we up against?" Bucky asks when Sam is out of the car looking for service.
"Tony, Rhodes, and Natasha, at least," Steve says with a weary sigh. "Probably a couple more. I might be able to get Wanda out of the Avengers compound, maybe a couple more guys on our side."
"How?"
"I've got something in mind, but it depends if he agrees to help us."
"Those are a lot of ifs," Milena mutters.
"We're playing by ear," Steve admits. "But I think we can pull this off."
Milena doesn't know what to expect when she meets Clint Barton, Wanda Maximoff and Scott Lang, but any tension there might've been is dissolved by Scott's nervous, but amusing star-struck antics in Steve's presence.
Right away she senses that Wanda is probably the most powerful out of all of them—a true telepath among other things Milena can only guess at. While her own abilities are more instinctual, intuitive and feeling, telepaths and telekinetics are seeing and touching in a different, more active sense.
So she isn't surprised when Wanda greets her with a smile that says she knows they're kindred spirits. And when it's time to break down their plan for getting to the Quinjets at the airport in Berlin, it makes sense to her that Steve pairs them up.
"Somehow, I think we'll make a good team," Wanda says, then really does surprise her by saying, "All this testosterone needs a bit of balancing, no?"
Milena smiles genuinely and replies in their native language.
"Is my English that bad?" she jokes. Wanda grins.
"More like I realize what my accent must sound like."
.
.
Bucky is not as comfortable with the situation.
"I want her with me."
"With what she can do, she'll better match up with Wanda—"
"Steve," Bucky says seriously. He meets his old friend's blue eyes with his own. "She didn't sign on for all this. She's just gunna get hurt."
He noticed that she's already been favoring her left side. In the car her hand went to her ribs every time Steve hit a bump or an uneven patch on the road. Her lips would press together as her other hand gripped the car door handle, which told him that however she'd been caught by the police wasn't exactly as quick and smooth as she'd made it seem.
Steve meets his eyes with sympathy.
"Buck, I understand—"
"No you don't," Bucky says, clenching his fists in irritation. "She's never been in a firefight—"
"That's why I put her together with Wanda," Steve lays a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder. "She's strong enough that no one's gunna get close to her without being flung into a wall."
Bucky still doesn't like it. He'd rather her be by his side, but he knows he'll probably attract some of the bigger guns.
"Can you trust me on this?" Steve asks earnestly. He understands Bucky's fear, and there's a chance they all won't make it out with just a few bumps and bruises. But he knows Tony just wants to bring them in, not make any kill shots.
Eventually, Bucky lets out a shaky breath.
"I guess I owe you this one, huh?"
Steve smirks.
"One? You owe me a lot more than that, pal."
Damn punk. Bucky shakes his head fondly, feeling the burn in his eyes at really seeing him, his brother, again. At finally feeling at home in his own skin.
"I'm sorry, Steve," he says after a minute. For not remembering, for going after him, his friends, everything.
That's when Steve visibly softens, and he smiles in relief.
"It's just good to have you back."
