Watching Nick Fury vivisected on an operating table was an oddly surreal experience. Natasha was still unfamiliar with fearing someone would die not because of mission parameters or objectives but simply because she cared about them – not that anything was ever simple where Fury was concerned.

"Is he going to make it?" she asked, her eyes never leaving his open chest.

"I don't know," Steve said beside her.

"Tell me about the shooter," she asked because her left wrist was itching, and if it was his work, Fury was already as good as dead.

"He's fast, strong…had a metal arm."

"Ballistics," she prompted when Hill joined her and Steve at the operating room window. She managed to keep the emotions off her face, but it still took her a second to make her mouth form the word. She couldn't pretend anyone but the Winter Soldier had done this, but confirming that he still used the same methods and gear slowed the feeling of control slipping steadily away from her.

"Three slugs, no rifling, completely untraceable."

"Soviet-made," Natasha said.

Still the same old Soldier. At least, she would know how to prepare for what was coming next.

"Yeah," Hill replied, and Natasha ignored the question in her voice.

"Don't do this to me, Nick," she said instead.

He didn't listen.

Standing over his dead body, Natasha wrestled with the conflicting emotions pushing her in different directions.

Winter, a silent breath whispered inside her. He was her Soldier, after all. She needed to save him.

But, that had been in a different life. Natasha Romanoff had been scrubbed clean of Natalya Romanova, just as the scar on her left wrist had scrubbed away any trace of her soulmark. She was first and foremost an Avenger, and she would avenge Nick Fury, friend and leader. After all, Natasha was still the Black Widow. Love is for children, the Madame had explained all those years ago. Only loyalty lasts. She was just facing her test a little later than the others had.

Life had been so much easier when all her decisions had been driven by orders and programming. Emotions complicated things. Love wasn't the children's toy Madame had made it out to be, Natasha realized as her grief for the man lying on a medical table in front of her pushed the sharp shards of her heart into her tender chest. Love was messy and brutal, and Natasha wanted no part of it. But, part of her couldn't forget a warm voice in her ear.

You need to leave. This place will destroy you.

Natasha didn't love the Winter Soldier, but she owed him a debt. And that made things simpler. Whether to save her soulmate or to avenge Fury, she had to stop him. She just had to find a way to do it without killing him. She would think of it as payback for Odessa.

Natasha and Steve reached the state line and crossed into New Jersey, and one more mile of silence was going to kill her. She needed something to distract her from her feelings, and Steve's reactions were always fun.

"Where did Captain America learn how to steal a car?"

"Nazi Germany. And we're not stealing, we're borrowing. Take your feet off the dash."

She considered her position for a moment, then chose to comply. After all, she wanted him in a cooperative mood, at least for the next few minutes.

"Alright, I have a question for you – ah, which you do not have to answer. I feel like if you don't answer it, though, you're kind of answering, you know?"

"What?" Steve asked, and his voice was harsh in annoyance, but she could work with that. Frustration kept people talking as well as camaraderie.

"Was that your first kiss since 1945?"

"That bad, huh?"

"I didn't say that."

"Well, it kind of sounds like that's what you're saying."

"No, I didn't- I just wondered how much practice you've had."

"You don't need practice."

"Everybody needs practice."

She'd literally been trained to kiss, without the feelings. She'd have thought people allowed to have real relationships would have enjoyed gaining experience.

"It was not my first kiss since 1945," Steve said with finality. But then, he hesitated and added quietly, "It's just that none of the rest of them felt right. Not after..."

Natasha followed Steve's glance down to his wrist and remembered the flash of red she'd seen there on occasion.

"I'm sorry," she said.

Steve shrugged as well as he could without jerking the steering wheel.

"Thanks." He cleared his throat, then forced a lighter note into his voice and asked, "What about you? You ever meet yours?"

Natasha shook her head.

"Never had one," she said casually.

She'd believed it for so long, it didn't even feel like a lie.

"Some people might say you're lucky," Steve said, and Natasha wondered if she'd agree.

"And you?" she asked, picking up on his noncommittal phrasing. "What would you say?"

Steve sighed heavily.

"As much as it hurts…I wouldn't trade my time with Peggy for the world."

Natasha let them lapse back into silence, staring intently out the window and trying not to imagine what it would be like to kiss the Winter Soldier.

Natasha reached for her guns the instant before Sitwell was ripped violently out of the car. She shot through the roof based on pure instinct, though she wasn't sure yet if it was guiding her toward killing the Soldier or missing him entirely.

Apparently, she'd missed. Still, she relied on the sixth sense that swirled around her, finding it as familiar as if she'd never left that safe house in Constanţa. She dodged and weaved at just the right moments, and it kept her alive. She even got a solid shot in under the bridge, but the crunch she heard sounded more like gear than flesh. Still, she used the split second of distraction to get some distance and spin a web.

The trap worked perfectly. He followed the sound of the recording on her phone, and she leapt from her hiding place. But, when he braced himself an instant before she landed on his shoulders and grabbed her garotte before she could quite get it into position, she realized he had equal access to their uncanny intuition. It always had gone both ways. He threw her across the street and took aim, and she threw a little disc, praying to the tech gods that it would work. It hit home just before he could get a shot off, and his left arm spazzed to a halt.

She knew she didn't have long before he recovered from the electronic shock, but she had long enough. She could do for him what he'd once done for her. While he wrestled with his dysfunctional arm, she spoke in Russian, echoing the words he'd once whispered to her in the Red Room.

"You won't understand or believe me yet, but you need to leave. This place will destroy you."

He froze, but she didn't wait to see if there was recognition in his eyes. That was a risk she couldn't afford to take. She ran for cover, ushering civilians out of the fight's path, then felt a familiar crawling sensation under the scar tissue of her left wrist.

"Shit," she said just before the bullet struck her shoulder.

Just like Odessa all over again.

She dropped, pressing her back against an abandoned car as she scanned the chaos for his position, suppressing a smile at the irony of her situation. The Black Widow had tried to kill her soulmate the first time they'd met, and he was returning the favor far more successfully. Then again, she was alive, and she'd never seen him miss at such close range.

Natasha's spine tingled, and she realized she was looking in the wrong direction. She flipped her head around just in time to see the Winter Soldier land on top of a car, lining up a clean shot at her. Then, Steve swooped in, and she let them fight it out.

She scrounged around the wreckage for the big guns and got in position for a Hail Mary. A small part of her wondered if the grenade launcher was overkill, but restraint had gotten them nowhere, so she braced herself against the back of a van and waited for Steve to get out of her line of sight. She didn't expect his reaction to unmasking the Soldier.

"Bucky?"

Natasha Romanoff really hated the universe.

"Who the hell is Bucky?" the Winter Soldier asked.

But, he was hesitating to attack, and uncertainty settled over his features, reminding Natasha of the question he'd asked her in Constanţa.

Do you ever wonder what really happened to your left wrist?

It was the sort of question a man asked when he didn't trust his own memories.

The Winter Soldier raised his gun, and Natasha braced herself to take the shot, but Sam was faster. The Soldier quickly regained his footing and faced Steve, then looked past his target and locked eyes with Natasha.

Shit.

She'd lost the element of surprise, but before she could react, she watched the Soldier's eyes slide deliberately over to Steve, then clearly back to her. Suddenly, it was as though they'd never stopped being partners. Skeptical alarm bells blared in Natasha's head, but they were opposed by a bone-deep sense of surety. She only had a second to decide, and she hoped she was making the right choice as she nodded discreetly.

They fired their weapons simultaneously, and Steve had plenty of time to bring his shield up, blocking the bullet, as Natasha aimed just shy of the Soldier, who used the smoke from her explosion to cover his disappearance. When he was gone, Natasha sighed in relief, leaning heavily against the van. Then, they had to answer to the cavalry.

Seeing Fury alive and well was a relief. Yeah, Natasha would have liked to know, but she wouldn't have done any differently in his position. So, she set aside her feelings and joined Steve's council of war. The plan was solid. It only had one problem: Steve couldn't exactly count on having backup, and Natasha knew who would be sent to stop him.

Later, she caught Sam watching from the doorway of the bunker as Steve stared into space. Just as the Falcon started to take a step, Natasha laid a hand on his arm.

"I got this one," she said.

"You sure? I've got the whole counselor thing going for me."

He spoke lightly, but Natasha could see the genuine concern in his eyes.

"Yeah. I just…know some stuff that might help Steve with this."

Sam considered her for a moment, then shrugged.

"Okay, then."

Natasha nodded her thanks for his approval and then made her way over to Steve.

"So, you knew him…before."

"He's my best friend," Steve said.

His voice was even, but there was a desperation in his blue eyes that seemed to beg her to tell him this was all some awful nightmare.

"You know you're going to have to face him. I know how these people work."

"How?"

Natasha hesitated. She'd come to Steve because she was willing to have this conversation, but prior determination didn't make it any easier.

"I don't tell people this," she began, hoping Steve would understand what her trust meant. He nodded in acknowledgement, and she continued.

"You know I'm Russian."

"Yeah…" The confusion on his face said, so what?

Natasha took a deep breath and then bit the bullet.

"We used to work together – me and him."

"You mean you-"

"I didn't know," Natasha said quickly. She'd expected Steve's outburst and prepared to curb his anger. "The Winter Soldier didn't have a name. But he was…almost a person sometimes."

"Almost a- What the hell, Natasha?"

"We'd go on missions together, and everything would be perfectly normal…And then, one day, he'd start asking all these questions, like he didn't trust our handlers, and then he'd disappear for a while…And the next time I saw him, he'd be distant, and there would be whole missions he'd forgotten we'd ever done. They- they did something to his mind, Steve; they did it to me, too, one time, and it took me years to get those memories back."

"What are you saying?" Steve asked. He looked a little green, and Natasha wished they'd never had to have this conversation. But, she couldn't let Steve fight the Winter Soldier unprepared.

"Look, I know you care about your friend. But, you can't hold back if you want to survive. Even if he recognized you on the highway, he's gone back to his handlers by now. You can't expect him to remember you the next time you see him."

Steve nodded slowly then set his jaw in stubbornness, and she knew he was planning something.

"How did you get your memories back?"

"My memory shot me in Odessa," she said wryly.

"Right."

Steve put a warm hand on Natasha's shoulder and smiled.

"Thanks for the advice."

"Steve-" she called in alarm, but the super soldier was already walking away.

"You're right," he called over his shoulder, though he didn't slow his pace. "Maybe I can't expect him to remember me, but I can sure give his memory a hand."

When Natasha saw him in the old Captain America uniform, she shook her head and smiled.

"Stealing cars and robbing museums? You're moving up in the world, Rogers."

"Borrowing!"

"Then, you'd better put it back in one piece. I'm serious, Steve, you can't pull punches."

"I won't," he assured her. "But, I'm not giving up on him, either."

Natasha figured that was the best she was going to get. And, after the moment the men had shared on the highway, she wondered if Steve might actually be onto something.

When the helicarriers went down, and Captain America washed up on the shore of the Potomac, she figured he must have done something right.

As much as Steve hated to admit it, he'd sort of expected Bucky to disappear. He hadn't expected him to reappear in his apartment almost a week later, heavily disguised in an assortment of casual clothes that came from Steve didn't want to know where. At least Fury had had the grace to signal his intrusion, leaving the music playing. Bucky just emerged from the shadows after Steve walked into his apartment and closed the door behind him.

"Jesus, Buck, are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

Steve's first emotion was exasperation, but as his oldest friend just stared at him in silence, he began to wonder if he should brace himself for something worse than being startled. Subtly, he shifted his weight, just in case he needed to defend himself.

"We good?"

Bucky shook his head, then, as if trying to clear it.

"Yeah, sorry. I didn't really think about…It's not something I worry about these days."

"Right," Steve said, carefully relaxing his posture. "You seem…better."

"You could say that," Bucky admitted, but he didn't seem convinced.

"I mean, I don't have to worry about you trying to kill me again," Steve said, pointing out what seemed to him an obvious improvement.

"Probably not," Bucky agreed, but Steve noticed the qualifier.

"That supposed to be a joke?" he asked cautiously.

With a grim smile, Bucky said, "Yeah. Sorry, guess I spent too long as a Russian. The sense of humor rubbed off."

Steve winced at the reminder of what his friend had been through and just how long it had taken him to find out.

"Bucky, if I'd've known…I'm sorry. I should have looked for you. I should've known you were out there somewhere."

Bucky shrugged, and his face was unreadable as he said, "It doesn't matter."

"It does. You're my best friend, and I-"

"The thing is, I'm not that guy."

Steve opened his mouth to argue, but Bucky preempted him.

"I know, I was, I saw the museum and all. I just…Right now, I don't know who I am."

"You've been through a lot," Steve said, "I can't imagine how much. But, I get needing some time. Just…know I'm here for you. Whatever you need."

Bucky eyed Steve with a reticence that hurt, but he eventually nodded and murmured, "I'll keep that in mind."

The two men stared at each other for a moment, and then Bucky glanced at the window. Was that how he'd gotten in?

"You know, most people would've just used the door."

"Yeah, well, I think I'm sort of on the run for a while."

Bucky said it lightly, but Steve's stomach dropped.

"I'll get that sorted out," he promised. "That- none of that was your fault."

"Still…I did it."

"Not all of it," Steve countered. "You didn't kill me."

"Yeah. Guess I did something right."

Bucky turned to go, then paused.

"Steve," he said slowly, as if testing the name's taste in his mouth. "You knew me pretty well, right?"

"Yeah," Steve answered. It was all he could force out past the lump in his throat. How did you explain to someone who barely remembered you that you'd once known each other better than you'd ever known yourselves?

"Before I lost the arm, did I have- Nevermind," he interrupted himself, shaking his head. "It was a stupid question."

"No, you did," Steve said. "Sorry, it wasn't much to go on. It just said, 'Widow.'"

Bucky's eyes widened, and he cursed in Russian. At least, Steve assumed it was a curse. He still wasn't sure what it meant, but Natasha had definitely used it a few times during the Chitauri invasion, and he'd gotten the distinct impression it wasn't meant for polite conversation.

"Yeah," he said with a nostalgic smile, "You weren't too happy about it the first time, either."

"I wasn't-? But, I couldn't have known…I didn't meet her until-"

"Wait, you found her?"

Steve gaped, while Bucky actually seemed less confused than he'd been a moment ago.

"It's complicated," he said.

"I can imagine," Steve said.

In fact, he was currently trying not to imagine how the woman had been widowed or how long she'd survived her husband. He was suddenly very worried about what had Bucky cursing the idea of his soulmate.

Natasha didn't bother turning on the lights when she entered her apartment. Instead, she kept her back to the door as she kicked it closed behind her and pointed her gun at the too-condensed patch of shadow in a corner.

"Here for round three?" she asked archly.

"Wouldn't it be two?"

"I'm counting Odessa as round one."

There was a beat of silence, and then the Soldier said, "Sorry."

He sounded uncomfortable but not insincere, and Natasha hesitated. She didn't lower her gun, but she did reach over her shoulder to flick on the light. The Winter Soldier's gloved hands were empty, but that didn't mean he was unarmed. His posture was nonthreatening, but she knew how quickly that could change.

"Occupational hazard," she said with a dismissive shrug. Then, because he didn't seem inclined to explain his presence, "Does Steve know you're still in town?"

"Yeah. I, uh, I talked to him."

Natasha raised an eyebrow.

"Just talked," he assured her, narrowing his eyes. Was he annoyed?

"I'm impressed. Guess you're a real boy now, got a name and everything." Natasha kept her voice light and teasing. She wasn't trying to unbalance him, per say. She just needed to keep control of the situation while she tested the waters. He was an unknown quantity now, and she needed to learn what to expect from him. She was unprepared for the sheer dejection in his expression as he shrugged.

"I guess…Still doesn't feel like mine yet."

Natasha had never seen the Winter Soldier express so much emotion. Sighing, she holstered her gun and walked over to her liquor cabinet, casually turning her back on her uninvited guest. She was fairly confident he wasn't there to kill her. When she turned back around, she was holding a bottle of vodka and two empty tumbler glasses, which she set on the table.

"Alright, Pinocchio," she said, sitting down and filling the glasses, "you've got til the bottle's empty to explain what you're doing here."

The Winter Soldier stared at Natasha for a moment, and the relapse into his old unreadable habits almost relaxed her. Then, he sat down in front of the glass she'd poured him and offered a sardonic smile.

"For the woman who just said I've got a name now, I'm pretty sure you got it wrong."

"It's not like we got a proper introduction. 'Bucky' is what Steve calls his best friend. You and I don't have that familiarity."

"Don't we, Natalya?"

"Case in point. It's Natasha now."

The Soldier looked appraisingly at her, then nodded, acknowledging her point.

"James, then. I think we know each other well enough for that."

Remembering the ease with which she'd read his unspoken signals last week, Natasha found it a hard point to argue, but she wouldn't forget the pressures that had always defined their relationship.

"Not like it was ever on our terms. Do you remember the first time we met?"

"Hard to forget," he said, smirking. "You tried to kill me."

"You remember why?"

James's smile fell away, and he fixed Natasha with a look that almost dared her not to take his next words seriously.

"Because I'm your soulmate."

"You think that means something?" she challenged.

James considered her question for a moment, then said, "It might. But not like this. I've gotta figure out how to be a person again. I'm not gonna do it sitting around here."

"Then, why come by now?"

"You really need to ask?"

There was a hint of humor in his expression again, and Natasha had to admit she understood him better than she might like to pretend.

"I guess I was part of who you've been," she admitted.

"Same reason I went to Steve," he confirmed. "Just…more pieces to figure out."

"Looks like we'll both be busy for a while."

James answered her statement with a questioning look, and she explained, "I blew all my covers. Gotta figure out a new one."

"Good luck."

"You, too."

"I'll see you around sometime, Natasha."

James stood, and she got the feeling, if that day ever came, it wouldn't be for a while. That was probably for the best, she decided.

"You just might. Take care of yourself out there, James."

A.N.: Yes, I know, some things are different, like Peggy was still alive at this point in MCU canon. But, I'm going to be deviating quite a bit in this story.