A. N.: Okay, if you haven't seen the first episode of Falcon & the Winter Soldier yet, go watch it now. No spoilers, but it's just that good, and I had to let you know.


Thawing


2014

Nick Fury's lifeless corpse was just one more reason for Natasha to hate hospitals – as if she needed one.

"I need to take him," Hill insisted.

Steve was calling her name, as if she weren't aware of the world crashing down around her. She was only too aware, and if she acknowledged it, it would break her. So she laid a hand on the smooth, cold dome of Fury's head and left the room.

Of course, Steve wasn't that easy to get rid of. He followed her out and cornered her in a hallway filled with the stench of disappointment and antiseptic, and then she realized something.

"Why was Fury in your apartment?"

Because, speaking ill of the dead be damned, if he'd gone to Steve because he'd known who was after him and thought he could somehow leverage their relationship…

"I don't know."

And, of course, Steve didn't know that possibility. There was a lot he didn't know. But, he was definitely hiding something.

Natasha collected herself. Fury's body had shocked her into admitting the harsh reality: She'd survived her brushes with the Winter Soldier before because he hadn't been actively trying to kill her. If he was in town, she couldn't afford to be soft or careless. Because she knew the second Steve realized who he was, she'd be the only one with the presence of mind to survive the threat he posed.


The Winter Soldier tried not to enjoy assaulting a speeding car on a busy highway, but it was good to be moving again. A flash of red hair was the only warning he got before someone started shooting at him, and he hopped onto a different car. The fight spread out at breakneck speed, but it didn't take him long to recognize Natalya. He remembered shooting her in Odessa, and he didn't think his memories had been messed with much since then, but there were still some things he didn't have quite straight. He had some questions for her – like why they were suddenly on different sides.

[She's mine], he snapped, lapsing into Russian with no time to examine all the ways in which he might have meant that. [Find him].

It wasn't hard to follow the sound of her voice, and that was his first clue something was wrong; the Black Widow wasn't known for being obvious. So, he opted for caution, rolling a bomb under the car and backing away, gun at the ready for any maneuvers she might try. Fight first, talk later. That was the way it had always been.

When the explosion just happened, he stared at it dumbly, trying to process the lack of countermeasures. That's when he felt her on his back and knew he'd made a mistake. The garotte was a surprise – Was she actually trying to kill him? Then again, she'd never pulled punches. Just another question to add to the list – assuming they were both allowed to survive this.

He threw her across the asphalt and grabbed his gun, but she was ready for him, and the EMP stalled his arm long enough for her to get some distance. If he waited one more second, he knew she'd disappear, so he shot her just before she dove behind a car for cover. He made sure to keep the high ground, so she couldn't get behind him again. She was finally in reach – and then Captain frickin' America was in his way. Wasn't he supposed to be dead or something?

The Soldier snarled and focused on fighting him off. The Captain tore his mask off and then just froze as if he'd seen a ghost.

"Bucky?"

"Who the hell is Bucky?"

He didn't have time for this, especially with the bird-man soaring in to knock him off balance. The Soldier leaped back into action, taking a split second to aim at Captain America – and then Natalya fired his own damned grenade launcher at him.

Well, at least he knew she wasn't really trying to kill him – It was hard to miss with something like that. He took advantage of her distraction and disappeared into the smoke, wondering why the hell she was working with Captain America. Obviously, he'd missed a lot while he'd been under.


Pierce was an idiot, Bucky reflected as he fished Steve out of the river. Not that he was complaining. See, the procedures could only do so much. Erasing his memories was like trying to dam a river with a Band-Aid. It worked well enough when he was under for long periods of time, when he resurfaced in clinical mission situations, without the reminders of whatever had stirred the pot so badly that they'd had to slam the lid on it. But, wiping him one day and sending him into the exact same situation the next meant that everything was still boiling very close to the surface.

Steve had been familiar enough to be frustrating. He'd gotten just enough flashes to tell that there were memories there, not to decipher them. Only one came through with any sort of clarity, and it was both recent and strange enough to give him pause.

The Soldier had been aiming at Captain- no, Steve- and then Natalya had been there…And she'd stopped him.

Bucky shook his head and disappeared.


He'd kept his head down until things calmed down. Now, staring at his own face in a museum, he felt anything but calm.

[I thought I'd find you here.]

He turned his head to see Natalya sidling up beside him.

[How'd you know when I'd be here?] he asked, suspecting the answer. Her grimace confirmed his suspicions, and he managed a little smirk.

[Don't ask how much time I've spent here lately.]

[I'm flattered.]

[Don't be. I had nothing better to do with all my covers blown, and you're going to help me get Steve off my back.]

Bucky stiffened. He was starting to remember some things, but not nearly enough to come face to face with the living embodiment of a life that didn't feel like his anymore. Natalya shook her head.

[I know what you're thinking. For all he knows, you've skipped town already. I just need you to look over this.]

She handed him a file, and he raised his eyebrows.

[I have to give him something, or he'll never let it go], she explained, and Bucky snorted.

[I just figured I'd ask if there's anything in there you don't want him to see.]

[How about all of it?] He forced some levity into his tone but didn't try too hard. She'd see through any real attempt, anyway. He flipped through the file quickly, and a date caught his eye.

December 16, 1991.

"Oh, shit."

Tell me I didn't. Please, tell me I didn't.

But, of course, he knew better than to believe in miracles. He closed his eyes because he couldn't afford to draw attention to himself, and having a meltdown in the middle of a museum would be kind of eye-catching. He breathed mechanically, in and out, then quickly tore that page out of the file and shoved it in his pocket. He'd have to deal with it, but not now.

Snapping the file closed, he handed it back to Natalya.

"He can have that."

Her lips twitched, and he knew she wanted to ask. He also knew she wouldn't. She'd never been one to pry. For a second, he almost wished, just this once, she would.

Then, she kissed him. It was soft, short. He blinked, and it was over.

"For old times' sake," she said. "Something to remember me by."

"Heh, you think you're so funny."

"Oh, I know I am." She smirked, and he clung to the distraction. Then, she sobered.

"You know where you're going now?"

"Yeah," he said.

"Good," she said with a nod. "You know how to reach me if you need me?"

"Always."

"Alright, then. Good luck out there."

"You too."

She smiled, and then she was gone. He had a feeling, though, that she'd be back. A lot of things were coming back to haunt him, and he wasn't exactly a fan of the experience. But somehow, he knew she would be different. After all, she'd always been the exception to the rules.