Coincidence
Italy, 2015
It's always a warehouse, Natasha thought between roundhouse kicks. So unoriginal. A gun fired, and she ducked, twisting behind one of her opponents and using him as a human shield. He bucked with the impact of three ill-timed bullets and collapsed to the ground.
And this one was barely a mile outside the city limits.
She used the split second of distraction to close the distance between her and the gunman, rickety wooden boards creaking beneath her feet.
And always so poorly made.
The goon was fumbling with a clip, trying to reload, when she kicked the gun out of his hand. He pulled a knife on her, then, and she dodged a few slashes before grabbing his wrist with her left hand and crushing his sternum with a sharp blow from her right elbow.
A sharp crack sounded behind her, and she whipped around to see a man with a pistol pointed straight at her fall, his neck broken. She gave the man standing over the fresh body a quick once-over.
"We good?" she asked cautiously.
"Yeah," he grinned. "Why wouldn't we be?"
"That's not even funny," she said, turning to face a fresh wave of security rushing up the stairs. "I think I still owe you a couple of bullet-holes."
She heard James laugh before he joined her in plowing through the fresh fighters.
"How about I buy you dinner, and we call it even?"
"Hmm. Well, Steve likes you, so I guess I'll let you off easy."
She didn't bother telling him Steve was still looking for him. Of course, he knew. The mood sobered a bit, but bashing some heads together let them ignore the awkwardness.
The level cleared, they looted bodies – some dead, some unconscious – for some extra weapons. They straightened, and a beat of silence stretched on too long, while James watched Natasha without blinking.
"I like the haircut, by the way," she said, ignoring the stare.
"Thanks."
His old look hadn't been hard to improve on, and the shorter cut helped him blend in – and feel a little more human.
"So, what are you doing here?"
He shrugged, and they started making their way downstairs, working toward the basement hidden beneath the ground floor of the warehouse.
"I heard there might be some trouble at an old hydra base. Figured I'd come make sure this head doesn't grow back. It's the least I can do."
Natasha made a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat.
"What about you?"
She held up her hand as they reached a doorway, then pounced on a guard who crossed in front of it unawares.
"A favor for Fury," she grunted, choking the guard out with her legs. "Speaking of, if we run into Giovanni Acardi, try not to kill him. We've got a few questions for him."
"Sounds like old times."
Natasha snorted.
"Yeah, except we're on the wrong side of the war."
They cleared the level quickly while they chatted then approached a heavy, metal trapdoor in the concrete floor. Natasha studied the digital keypad. She could try a code or two but didn't want to risk outdated information setting off some kind of trap. She could always cheat by rewiring the thing, but that would take time.
Glancing at her companion, she asked archly, "You want to do the honors?"
"Ha, you always did just want me for my body."
Natasha rolled her eyes but stood back casually and let James tear the door out of the floor. They both immediately ducked out of the way as bullets flew up out of the hole in the ground, then dropped down while people stumbled back, fumbling to reload their weapons. Finishing up wasn't difficult. Natasha could have done the whole thing on her own, but the help certainly sped up the process.
As they left the warehouse behind, Acardi tied up among his incapacitated minions, Natasha sent a quick text:
Tying up a few loose ends. Package at 42.6384261, 12.674297. I'll be in touch.
They finished the night in a nondescript motel room, draped over an old couch with pizza and beer.
"We're in Italy, and you get pizza. Damn, you really are an American," Natasha joked.
"So they tell me." James didn't quite muster a smile, and Natasha rolled her eyes.
"God, stop being so maudlin. You look good."
He snorted, then drank another glug.
"And here I thought you were worried about me."
Natasha lightly punched his metal arm, making a show of wincing when she was perfectly fine.
"Nah," she said, "That's Steve's job. Seriously, you should see him. You'd think he was the one who used to be in bed with you."
James did a spit-take, and Natasha laughed at the harrowed look he gave her.
"I've got some pretty messed up images in my head after the last few decades, but that takes the cake."
"You're welcome."
They bantered a while longer, dancing around the issues until Natasha fell asleep with her head on his shoulder.
Bucky sighed.
He knew Steve would track him down eventually. And Natalya seemed to like having him around. But, if she asked him to come back now…
He frowned into empty space. He couldn't even deal with the past right now, let alone the future. His thoughts racing a million miles an hour, he finally fell asleep.
When he woke, he was alone. A pink, cardboard box of fresh cornetti sat on the coffee table with a quickly scrawled note.
Hey, thanks for last night. I'll call it even for Odessa, but you still owe me for last year. And, don't worry, I won't say anything about this trip to Steve. But, you know he's not giving up on you. Neither am I. Stay warm.
Bucky managed a small smile. She always had understood.
