❝Some things are better left unsaid.❞

The hallway was narrow and dark, only small dots of light above leading the way. Bucky's metal finger curled around the trigger of his handgun as he followed Steve, looking behind him every now and then. There was not a single echo of sound; highly suspicious for a building that was bustling with life just a week ago. Secret agents reported that the place was built on illegal ground, and thus it was kept a secret. But as intelligence reached SHIELD, a bomb mysteriously exploded and destroyed half the site. Police were still investigating the explosion, keeping the area strictly out-of-bounds for everyone. Fury was concern about the possibility of a chemical weapon being produced so he sent in a team of Avengers.

The place seemed deserted. "Sam, what do you see?" Steve said through the earpiece.

"Nothing, Cap. Just a couple of rats."

"Lab rats?" Bucky's forehead scrunched at the thought.

"No," he replied, "the nasty ones."

"Keep looking," Steve ordered, "Wanda, did you find anything?"

"They emptied the offices well. Sorry, Steve."

"Sharon?"

"It's clear outside." She was a look-out for security guards that patrolled the perimeter.

With dejection bruising his optimism, Steve and Bucky ventured further in. The building was more wide than long, only having 6 floors. Most of them had open space, as if they were testing something. They reached the end of the corridor, but now there were two staircases opposite each other. Steve took the right, while Bucky climbed the left.

He arrived at a corridor full of rooms. They were dark, except one. Whispers of rustling were heard inside. He gripped his gun firmly as vigour swelled inside, his muscles hardening for what was to come. Skirting along the wall of the room with a deathly silence, he inched closer to his prey. The rustling stopped. Bucky could almost smell the fright in the air. The target dropped something heavy; it was nervous. With a snarl he stepped out, the head of the gun aimed at the target. A red substance suddenly froze his hand, preventing the bullet from moving out of it.

"What happened?!" Steve's voice asked worriedly.

The target was Wanda; her eyes impossibly wide with shock. "B-Bucky?"

The red magic disappeared and Bucky lowered his arm. "Nothing, Steve."He walked out the room, refusing to communicate with Wanda. She watched him go just as her words reached the tip of her tongue. She stared at the doorway sadly. He was still angry.

"If you work with Wanda you both could cover the floor quickly," Steve encouraged.

"Unnecessary," was Bucky's blunt answer. "There's nothing here to cover."

"You guys better be faster," Sharon urged abruptly, "We've been spotted. I took out three of the guards, but there more coming."

"Shit," swore Sam, "I see them from the window. We need to get the hell outta here."

They managed to get out fast; Sam flew out one of the ruined part of the building while Wanda did the same. Bucky and Steve jumped out, landing unscathed in the grass below. Helicopters began to arrive at the scene, bright light flashing from them as they reached the rendezvous point. Sharon was seated in the driver's seat as they jumped in, crestfallen at their unsuccessful findings.

"Buck, you've been acting weird." Bucky heard Steve from behind him as he put his ammunition back in his locker. They arrived back to SHIELD headquarters an hour ago, dispersing into their own work, except Steve and Sharon. Fury had been less than impressed by the outcome of the mission. Bucky presumed that was why Steve was back soon from the briefing.

"The mission was a flop, I'm ecstatic about that," he muttered sarcastically, removing a knife from his hip pocket.

"I mean with Wanda."

"What about Maximoff?" Bucky asked, feigning ignorance.

"Bucky," Steve said knowingly, "she told me."

He sighed, the familiar irritation crawling over him again. "I'm sorry I couldn't be nicer to someone who practically volunteered for the same organisation that abused me for decades," Bucky deadpanned, continuing to remove his weapons, roughly shoving them on the shelves. "Did you expect me to be fine when I found out she volunteered for Hydra? Hydra who tortured me? Turned me into a monster? Remember that Steve?"

"No- of course not!- Buck," Steve flinched at the abrasive edge of Bucky's tone. "She made a mistake. She feels like that too."

"What? A monster?" he countered derisively, sharply glaring at Steve.

His mind raced with frenzy thoughts, incredulity covering his face; Bucky couldn't believe Steve was trivializing his decades of cruel conditioning, dehumanisation and desensitisation with someone who agreed to be experimented on. And she received magical powers that could bring your worst nightmare to life. Where exactly is the bad part? She knew what she signed up for. There was a stark difference between their two cases. He was suddenly filled with abhorrence at that notion: Wanda didn't even suffer a fraction of what he underwent. His anger was now directed at Steve's belittlement of his torment. How dare he compare to some like Wanda?

"Unable to control your power- which was your fault you got 'em in the first place- doesn't make you a monster. That's just lack of practise, Steve. You know what a monster is, huh? A monster is someone who can kill in cold-blood without remorse. To kill an innocent person because you've been conditioned to succeed. A completed mission is all that matters to you. To watch someone beg for their life on their fucking knees, but you pull the trigger anyway. Was she ever forced to do that? No, 'cos she had a choice- not me. A monster is-"

"-I get it," Steve interjected, stopping Bucky's rant. Guilt always violently triggered him when Bucky talked about Hydra's programming. He should have been there. He should have been there for Bucky, like he was always there for him no matter what. But that one time Bucky was desperate for help, he was snoozing in an ice-cube, a thousand feet under the ocean. A part of him blamed that he was also responsible for Bucky's state. "But she's sorry."

"I know," he conceded. "But that doesn't mean I can't forget... at least not now." He turned to Steve, "this was why you wouldn't tell me how she got her powers, right? "

Steve nodded guiltily. "She's been really upset about it."

"Wow, must have been so traumatic to choose to be experimented on by a group of Nazis," Bucky shrugged unsympathetically, slamming his locker door shut. He locked it with a quick click. Steve folded his arms, hiding his guilt away again. He was dissatisfied, but he could understand his friend's dark perspective. And he respected that.

"I'd better go," he said, his hand patting Bucky's shoulder. "Don't want to keep Sharon waiting too long."

"Hey," he suddenly called Steve, a sudden curious thought tapping his mind. Steve stopped just as he was about to step out the room."Is Natasha back from Prague?"

The blond looked up, mentally rewinding his memory. "No, she's still on a mission with Agent May. Why?" A cheeky smirk curved on his mouth. The negative atmosphere diminished instantly.

Bucky scoffed at his expression. "She's been away for a while."

"Yeah, it's been over a month. Missing her, eh?" He teased. He sort of understood Bucky's maddening habit of embarrassing him about girls, and why he used to think it was so funny back when they were in high school. And in the army. And even with Sharon sometimes. How the tables have turned.

"She's the only challenging opponent," he replied casually. It wasn't the real reason, Bucky wasn't quite sure himself why he even felt the need to ask. Did he miss their profound conversations? Definitely. "Sam could learn a thing or two from her."

"I'm with you on that, pal. Everyone could."

-LINE BREAK-

It happened again.

Bucky propelled up from his bed, frustration clawing his temporary peace. He ran an exasperated hand through his unkempt long locks, trying to calm his racing thoughts. Images flashed through his head at a swift speed as restlessness once again arrived, uninvited. He fell back onto his pillow with a annoyed growl. His eyes flickered to the digital clock on the bedside: 03:51. Much to his chagrin he saw the same woman, yet couldn't identify her face clearly. It was too blurry.

Strenuously, he managed to regained his composure and closed his eyes. There was a blonde-haired girl, she looked no younger than 20, around five foot six. Bucky saw himself breaking the girl's arm, emitting a ear-piercing shriek from her. Using her broken arm as momentum, he tossed her across the room like a rag doll, her body viciously colliding with the wall. She was unconscious. Bucky recoiled, grasping the duvet. It was absurdly unfair; she was sorely inexperienced, especially compared to him. Why was the Winter Soldier ordered to attack her? The girl was not a mission.

"Disgraceful, Yelena. I expect more from a graduate," the old woman drawled. The terrible English accent was hardly disguised. "You have disappointed us once again. Oleg, take her to the infirmary." She was unaffected by the brutality, watching scornfully as a man dragged her limp body away. The old woman looked at him, lacking the omnipresent fear associated with him. "Soldat, you are to report to Vasily Karpov. You have permission to leave." The asset nodded stiffly, his emotions restricted behind the black mask concealing his face.

The image faded out as the scene shifted: night time. The Winter Soldier walked outside, robotic strides that made no sound. His vision stopped at a person who was peering over the ledge. Hesitancy seeped inside his mind, but his body did not betray him. He stood near the girl. He felt her perturbed glance on him for a second, but his gaze remained on the cloudy blackness of the midnight sky. The air grew thick with disquietude as the minutes past. She tapped the metal bar beneath her fingers, the bitter winter wind scraping past her hair.

"I've been promised to the hand of The Red Guardian," Natalia declared, her voice void of emotion. Her English accent was smoother, but there was still a hint of Russian in them. "I'm going to marry him, James."

"I've heard."

A uncomfortable pause filled atmosphere. Natalia shut her eyes tightly, grasping her last shred of nonchalance. She furtively looked at James with a poker face, ruminating. He was a difficult person to read, just like herself. What did he think of the proposal?

"I don't want to," she confessed, a tiny whisper as if she was disclosing a treacherous secret. His steely resolve grew weak at her quiet words. Natalia rested her head on his arm, not tall enough to fully reach his shoulders. James' heartache returned, jabbing him with insistence.

He brought his right arm around her waist, squeezing it. There were no words that could possibly reassure her. Or them. "I know. But you will."

She looked up at it ruefully, "we don't have a choice." It was said almost mechanically. It had become their painful mantra, bringing a bizarre semblance of comfort. He could see her blank expression crumbling, her empty eyes becoming glassy. Her bottom lip wanting to tremble.

And he hugged her.

It was so unlike him to instigate such show of immediate affection, but he did it nonetheless. It was a rare part of his former self taking over, a part that was still intact despite the brainwashing; a minuscule piece of the man he was before Hydra abducted him was miraculously retained. He hugged her, enfolding himself around her because that was the only thing he could think to do. He kissed her forehead, a throbbing sense of grief settling inside him. The same grief he tried to run away from when he heard the news from two low-level soldiers talking, clueless. He ignored it. Then he overheard his handler speaking to a Soviet official. It was true. The realisation that Natalia won't be his anymore, that she is someone's bride. Someone will be waiting for her as she walks down the aisle in a pristine white dress. Not him.

"It was never going to be me, but it's gonna be alright." It physically hurt to say it, but this was the time to accept the inevitable. He clenched his jaw as she as a small sob shook her body. "You'll have to marry Alexi Shostakov."

Bucky's eyes widened, as a startling revelation dawned on him. He finally had a solid clue. A tiny step to finding out about who exactly Natalia was. Hastily he opened a drawer and seized a notebook and pen. There was no pen. He cursed loudly, wildly searching the room for a writing instrument. A pencil lay on top a shelf. He grabbed it and opened his notebook so fast it tore slightly from the spine. He flickered to a clean page and scribbled in Russian a name. Alexi Shostakov. He added underneath in smaller, neater writing, "The Red Guardian". With bright inspiration rushing through his blood, he grabbed his phone from under the pillow and texted at this ungodly hour:

I need a favor.

I hope I explained Bucky's emotions well enough to justify his view.Vielen Dank!