A/N: Spoiler alert for Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Avengers: Age of Ultron, and Captain America: Civil War.
As always, many thanks go out to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta and Winter-Soldier-88 for the brainstorming.
Note 1: I know it's been a while since this story was updated, but it couldn't be helped. Not only is my muse a fickle little scamp, my family has been experiencing a great deal of emotional turmoil that may not get better any time soon. Such is RL.
Note 2: This story is being revamped. Some scenes will be removed completely. Others will be changed to better conform to the MCU movies. Also, parts 2 and 3 will be eliminated and the chapters posted all under one title.
Namaste,
Sunny
"I will come back to you, I swear I will;
And you will know me still.
I shall be only a little taller
Than when I went."
― Edna St. Vincent Millay, The Harp-Weaver and Other Poems
Winter Soldier
And You Will Know Me Still
Chapter 18
Every other thought in Steve's head evaporated as he took in Clint's obvious distress, meaning he showed no emotion at all except in his eyes. "Gone where?"
"Don't know. No answer when I knocked on her door. She's gone and so are all her weapons."
Before Steve could respond, Maria pulled the door open, fastening her pants and yanking the zipper up. She grabbed her boots and the bundle of wet clothes, pushing past the men and heading for the stairs. "I knew something was wrong. Should've pushed for an answer."
"Wouldn't have done any good. Nat's all-knowing and all seeing, but not all telling." Clint's retort was thrown at her back as she ran up the stairs.
Steve retrieved dry socks from his bag and put them on, snatching up his boots and jacket. He handed the jacket to Clint, set the shield at the bottom of the stairs and, together, the men followed Maria up the stairs. By the time they caught up with her, she'd pushed her door closed, leaving a small crack. To go by Clint's expression, he didn't know what was going on either.
"We stopped for coffee. Knew she was holding back." Her voice was punctuated by drawers slamming and the bed creaking.
Clint snorted. "Secrets are her thing, Hill."
Down the hall, Sam, Kiba, Santino and Sullivan had come out into the hall. Clint and Newcomb had drawn guard duty. Newcomb was outside doing a perimeter check. They would've included Dooney, but the man had begged off with a lame excuse. As he wasn't an official part of the team, Steve let it slide. Besides, he expected to see him around in another day or so with a different lame excuse just so he could see Kiba again.
"What's goin' on?" Sam yawned on the end and leaned on the wall with Santino bringing up the rear, also yawning and scratching his head.
The door opened on Maria shoving a knife into her boot. On the foot of the bed lay a Glock, extra ammo, knives and a handful of Natasha's stingers, metal discs the size of a nickel that used an electrical charge to render an opponent unconscious for sixty to ninety seconds. "Whatever she saw or heard must've gelled."
"Wanna let us in on the secret?" Sam pressed for an answer.
Instead of responding directly to Sam's question, Steve, Clint and Maria headed for the stairs with the others in tow. Steve could hear Santino and Sam discussing the situation, ignoring their conversation as they reached the first floor. Newcomb was just coming through the garage door. He saw everyone awake and went right to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.
"Natasha's following up on a lead. Barton, Hill and I are headed out to join her. Stay here and keep an eye on things just in case. We'll update you when we know something. Stay sharp and be ready to roll."
By now, Sam was wide awake and dogging the SHIELD agents' footsteps. "Take me with you. I've dealt with Barnes before. I know what to expect."
Without acknowledging Sam's appeal, Maria handed him a phone. "Protocol Bravo 0-2-7 is in effect until further notice."
Sam nodded once as he took the phone and shoved it in his back pocket. "Understood. And be safe. We don't know what Barnes' state of mind will be when we finally catch up to him."
Sam, Santino and Newcomb watched from the kitchen as Steve stowed the shield in the trunk. Maria opened the garage door while Steve started the car and backed out into the street. Though he was tempted to blow through every stop sign and red light, breaking the law wasn't the best way to stay under the radar.
Clint got out at the corner. "I'll meet you there. Don't start without me."
The archer jogged out of sight before Steve could say a word. He looked at Maria who shrugged. "I've given up trying to understand him."
~~O~~
Danny let the blinds down, put the binoculars away and sat down to wait. Before long, he heard the front door open and close. A board in the hall creaked just before his bedroom door opened and Barton stood there scowling. Though he'd issued an invitation of sorts, the intrusion into his private space still annoyed him. He swiped the remote from the desk. "Knocking and waiting to be let in must be one of those things you didn't learn in school. You know. Manners?"
A small grin found its way onto Barton's face and included a small shrug. "Didn't go to school. Grew up in the circus."
Danny kept eye contact with Barton, but the man never gave off signals that he was lying. Sitting on the foot of the bed, Danny turned the desk chair around, offering Barton a seat. The archer hesitated a fraction of a second then accepted. "We told you to keep to yourself, kid."
The scenes with the guy and the woman flickered through his mind. "If I'd done that, I wouldn't have information that could help you."
The humor disappeared, and Barton looked far more dangerous than anyone Danny had ever met on the streets of New York City . And he'd met plenty.
"Tell me."
Danny rubbed his forehead with the back of the hand holding the remote. Realizing what he was doing, he laid it beside him on the bed. "If it'd only been the one time, I'da put it down to a horny guy meeting his squeeze, except all they do is talk while he smokes. But it's happened like seven times, counting tonight. Always in front of that store at the same time, and they're careful to avoid the cameras."
"How do you know?"
"Dude, I've lived in the neighborhood since I was born and in this apartment since Mom passed. Got it cheap because she worked for the owner. I know every crack in the sidewalks, who's having an affair and with whom, who's dealing drugs, who's doing jail time, who just got out of jail…"
Barton moved in his seat. "I get it."
"What I don't know is his name."
"Describe him."
~~O~~
Natasha easily avoided the patrols near the hospital and construction site, staying in the shadows and watching the building before going inside. After the police moved on, she stepped onto the sidewalk, giving her destination a thorough scan. This time, it showed a heat source on the second floor either in or very near the office she'd searched.
She'd finally worked out what had bothered her about the room. The rest of the complex had been coated in a thick layer of dust, but not the desk, chair or sofa. Why had that particular office been locked when none of the others were?
Taking a slow circuit of the building, Natasha determined that no one else was inside. The individual was lying in the prone position, his internal temperature indicating that he was most likely asleep.
Her recon complete, Natasha entered the same way she and Maria had earlier, slowly and quietly making her way up to the second floor. As she approached the door, she heard whimpering and the creak of the worn leather of the sofa as he moved in his sleep, for only sleep could account for the words coming from his mouth. Words of fear and pain, screaming, followed by a throaty growl of agony, calling out in Russian, "Pozhaluysta ostanovi''!" (Please stop!)
Approaching the room one slow step at a time, Natasha put a gloved hand up and slowly pushed the door open. Lying on the sofa, soaked in sweat, hair sticking to his face, was Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier. Like this, he looked more like a little boy in the throes of a nightmare about the creatures under his bed.
On the desk, the small lamp was on, casting a weak glow over the center of the room. He moved, and the light reflected off the metal arm, fully exposed because he'd taken off his shirt and only wore a pair of boxer briefs.
"Tak kholodno. Tak kholodno. Pozhaluysta! Nyet!" (So cold. So cold. Please! No!)
Natasha took a stinger out just in case. During their fight on the bridge and in the street, she'd hit Barnes with one, hoping to short out his metal arm, but he'd shaken it off without slowing down.
Standing over him, she saw tears pooled in the corners of his eyes. His head turned this way and that, as if he were trying to get away from someone or something. Were the tears caused by profound sadness or overwhelming agony? She'd experienced her share of both. That's why she could empathize with his situation. She too had been trained to kill, up close and from a distance.
Unexpectedly, he grabbed her hand, holding tight. Almost too tight. Instead of knocking Barnes senseless, Natasha dropped the stinger back in her pocket and knelt beside the sofa, her free hand brushing at the hair stuck to his forehead, speaking to him in Russian. "Don't worry, little one. I'm here."
"Please. Don't let them hurt me anymore."
Barnes sounded desperate and afraid, like a small child left alone in the woods at night. Natasha wasn't surprised. She read his file before turning it over to Steve. The man had been tortured by HYDRA scientists almost from the day he'd fallen from the train. No. It started the day he'd been captured by Schmidt's men. Injections and surgeries, repeated brainwashing and punishment for non-compliance followed. "I'll protect you."
His agitation calmed somewhat at her words and the tight hold on her hand relaxed. "I don't want to be alone."
"I'm here, and I won't leave you." Laying his hand on his stomach, Natasha surveyed the room. Computer equipment that hadn't been there earlier filled the empty space on the desk. There was a cooler and a duffle bag on the floor. Going to the closet, she found a space blanket hanging through the ceiling where one of the tiles had been removed. Barnes had obviously taken precautions should anyone penetrate his refuge.
She took a set of clean clothes from the duffle bag. They had to get out of here before they were found, either by her friends or their mutual enemies. The computer equipment would have to remain behind too. She booted up the computer, bypassed the password protection and dumped all the information onto one of her many Cloud accounts opened under a variety of assumed names. When the upload was complete, she used her Widow's Bites to destroy it all.
Later, when Barnes and she were away from this place, Natasha would have Steve come alone to meet them, someplace where Barnes felt safe.
There was a linen closet down the hall. She collected a towel and washcloth, filled a basin with tepid water and carried it all back to the office. She set them on the floor and knelt beside him again. Wetting one of the washcloths, she gently cleaned the sweat from his face and neck while humming a Russian lullaby barely remembered from her childhood. Soon, Barnes's breathing evened out and his sleep became calm again.
Eventually, he rolled onto his side, pressed against the sofa back facing the door, both arms wrapped around himself, and his shoulders slightly hunched. The lines of weariness smoothed out, but didn't go away completely, though he once again began to resemble the boyish young man from the WWII photos.
She carried the basin to the sink, dumped it out and hung the towels to dry. Her hands stilled in the process as the air began to vibrate with the presence of others. Not inside the building, but close.
A gun appeared in her hand. Changing her mind, Natasha exchanged the gun for a knife as she darted into one of the rooms that faced the main road. What had once been an exam table squatted under a broken light, the shards scattered over the table and floor. Along the walls were cabinets, the contents of which were remnants from the room's original purpose. A small sink, bandages, gauze, forceps, cotton balls, and a roll of sanitary paper for covering the table. Everything was filthy, covered in dust and water stained where the rain had leaked through the ceiling. In the corner, something had made a nest. She'd either scared it away or it was foraging for food.
Peeking out the window, she easily located several black clad and heavily armed figures, all male. It couldn't be her people. The weapons they carried were nothing like those stashed at the brownstone, and their team didn't have Kevlar vests.
A tiny sound that could've been anything alerted Natasha that she wasn't alone. Not making any sudden moves, she stood and faced Barnes standing in the doorway. "Kto ty?" Who are you?
Slowly, she sheathed the knife and snapped the safety over the handle. "Natasha."
"Prikhodite na svet." Come into the light.
Taking just two steps forward brought Natasha to where he could see her. "YA ne sdelayu tebe bol'no." I won't hurt you.
His hands curled into fists, radiating aggression. Similar yet subtly different than on the bridge. There, Barnes had been violent and uncompromising in his attack without showing belligerence, anger or hatred. He'd shown very little emotion at all. Steve and Natasha were his mission. Nothing mattered but the mission. He wouldn't allow anyone or anything to stand in the way of completing his objective. The man in front of her felt different. She could reason with this version of the Winter Soldier. Natasha switched to English. "We have to go."
His eyes turned to the side, his head following, a brief flash of fear showing. Natasha drew his attention back to her by stepping to the left. Barnes blinked, and it was gone. He took a deep breath and let it out.
~~O~~
The woman stepped into the sparse light seeping through the gap in the curtains revealing herself to be the redhead from the bridge. She gestured at the window, and James cautiously came to her side. Her breathing increased. Was she only now showing fear? No. She wasn't afraid of him. That would not be in keeping with her previous actions. "Why are you here?"
"To protect you." Her expression wasn't easy to read. At a guess, he would say that she was afraid for him rather than of him. The day they fought, the day Steve had called him Bucky, the only fear she'd shown was for the innocent bystanders in the street.
Placing his back into the corner, James used one finger to make a gap between the tattered curtain and the wall. He felt her beside him and looked down. Her chin came up. "One in the bushes, another behind the tree, two on the third floor of the construction area. Those are just the ones I can see."
"Is it him?"
"Steve Rogers? No." She turned her back on him, heading for the hallway. "We have to go before they decide to knock the building down with us inside."
Choosing to trust her, at least for now, he joined her in the office where he changed clothes and put on his boots. Standing up to close the front of his pants, he felt just a tiny bit self-conscious at having a woman watching him dress. It wasn't so much that she was here. It was more the way her eyes never left his face and didn't blink, as if she'd emptied herself of all emotion and thought and was acting on pure instinct. He knew better. It was a carefully constructed pretense. Underneath, she was nothing like him. Her passions, her emotions, ran deep.
James followed Natasha into the hall, shrugging into his jacket as he went, and found her listening at the stairwell door, her hands seemingly working independent of her other senses as she stuffed her hair under a cap.
She opened the door and started up the stairs. Though reluctant to touch her, he pushed through it, laying a hand on her shoulder, one finger brushing her neck above the jacket she wore. It felt strange touching the skin of another like this, in kindness instead of violence. Somehow, it was different. Not bad different. Just different in a way he couldn't define. "The roof?"
One side of Natasha's mouth turned up in what he now recognized as a smirk. "I know it's a cliché, but I've gotten out of worse spots. They'll expect us to try to leave through the ground floor so they've got it covered. The roof is our best bet." Her expression softened, became more of a smile. "This is what I do, Barnes. Trust me."
It was time to make a decision. Should he trust her or go his own way? His instincts sensed no deception on her part. Not about her motives.
Natasha had been with Steve, and James wasn't ready to be reunited with him just yet. Saving that little girl and the man, the cats and dogs he returned to their owners, the woman who'd been abducted, stopping the armed men in masks who held up the liquor store, the car that had fallen off the jack while the elderly man was changing the flat, rescuing the occupants of a car who had been trapped inside when a tree hit by lightning had fallen on it, the child and father in the apartment fire. These were just a few of the things he'd done to atone for the sins he'd committed as the Asset. He still had a long ways to go. Somehow, he just knew that this woman would be able to help him wipe his slate, if not clean, then at least rub out some of the red.
Then there were the memories. He wanted to remember everything about his life from before. However, every time he closed his eyes, all he saw were the bad times, the killing, the surgeries, the chair, the burning in his brain, the numbing cold, losing the small pieces of himself he'd managed to collect.
Not waiting for his answer, Natasha continued up the stairs. The lights had all been broken long ago, the pieces of glass crunching underfoot in the near total darkness. She crouched at the door, opening it barely an inch, a finger to her lips.
Slowly, the crack widened just enough for Natasha to slip out. She made a crouching run to the left, and a few seconds later, he joined her between the environmental units and the skylight. There was no gunfire meaning they hadn't been seen. An alternate scenario was they had been seen and their enemies were toying with them, intending to trick them into showing themselves. A third alternative was that they'd wait until the sun rose and pick them off at their leisure.
His plans didn't include being captured or killed, and he assumed Natasha's didn't either. Using hand signals, she gave him directions to the opposite side of the building where she had previously stashed a grappling hook and rope. He took that to mean it had been done when she and the other woman were here. Even then, she'd known. He didn't waste time wondering how. They could talk about that when they weren't running for their lives.
With Natasha in front, they moved out of their hiding place, and immediately ducked back when bullets pinged off the metal housings, ricocheting in all directions. James stared dumbfounded at Natasha when she said, "Here's where the fun begins."
She didn't give him time to formulate a reply, just pressed a weapon into his hand. Light glinted off the barrel of a second weapon in her left hand as she turned her back on him. Every few seconds, she would pop up, fire off a few rounds, and just as quickly, duck back out of sight.
James fired off a few shots, and when the enemy fired back, he pinpointed their locations. The hammer clicked on an empty chamber, and without being asked, Natasha passed him a fresh magazine. He ejected the empty clip and shoved the full one home. Over the sound of shooting, he heard another sound, metal on concrete.
He got her attention and pointed, using hand signals to tell her that men were coming over the side. Natasha readied herself for the next attack without acknowledging. Because their opponents knew where they were, but didn't know they knew, it gave James and Natasha the element of surprise. Leaning close, he slipped her knife from its sheath, and whispered, "Stay here."
~~O~~
Before Natasha could stop him, Barnes had taken the K-bar and was gone, swallowed up in the darkness. She continued taking shots at the guys in the construction area to keep them busy while Barnes carried out whatever plan he'd concocted.
The glint of light on metal gave her the exact location of the one who'd climbed a tree for a better angle. Taking careful aim, she waited for him to shoot again and aimed for that spot. She was rewarded with a manly scream of pain and the crack of breaking tree limbs. It also earned her another volley of shots in retaliation. They pinged and ricocheted off the metal and concrete. Glass shattered in the skylight, the shards reflecting the light as they fell into the boiler room below.
Barnes's footsteps had long since faded when Natasha heard the next scream, followed by a thud. It happened three more times, and suddenly, he was back. He motioned for her to hurry. She took a few more shots and caught up with him at the roof access. "They're coming."
They stationed themselves on either side of the door. The pounding of footsteps stopped as the door was kicked open from the inside, allowing a dozen or more men and women to spill onto the tarpaper roof. They fanned out, not noticing that Natasha and Barnes were behind them.
In a cheerful tone, she said, "Out of a hundred thousand sperm, you were the fastest? Doesn't say much for the evolution of the species."
The group turned, bringing their weapons around, but by then, it was too late. Barnes and Natasha took down all but two extraordinarily persistent men. There was a scream as the one Barnes was fighting fell over the parapet, hitting the ground with a solid thump three floors below.
Natasha used one of her signature moves on her opponent and the man slammed into the wall of the roof access. He got to his feet, raising his weapon. His aim wavered as he tried to bring Natasha into focus.
Barnes rushed forward and grabbed him around the throat with his cybernetic arm. The weapon fell to the ground as the other man gasped for breath and tried to pry the fingers loose, his face turning a bright shade of red.
"Stop! You're killing him! Barnes!" The look on Barnes' face was the same as that day on the street when he'd nearly choked the life out of Steve. Placing her hand on his shoulder, she came around where he could see her. "James! Stop!" Still, he ignored her entreaties. Tugging harder, he finally looked at her. "Bucky, please."
Those two words, said softly with him looking into her face, got through. Barnes opened his hand and the man fell to the ground, sucking in air and moaning in pain. Blood welled up and spilled over, making small rivulets down his neck.
~~O~~
Standing in the alley behind Danny's building Clint used a secure line to make a call. "Harrington? Barton. I need you to run a complete background check on the names in the email I just sent."
"Already did these for Hill."
In the background, Clint could hear the clicking of the keyboard. "Run 'em again, just those two. I want it all. Family going back at least three generations, friends, known associates, doctors, cashiers at the stores they frequent, mechanics who services their vehicles. If they bought from a hot dog vendor in the park, I want the name. If there're gaps, fill them in."
"You got it, boss. Harrington out."
Clint paced in the darkness of the alley, making sure to avoid the cameras and stay out of the light. Thirty minutes later, he received an email from Harrington. The com-tech had highlighted areas of particular interest. Clint took out a second phone and dialed. "It's Barton… I need you here ASAP… the alley a half block north of Selah… We need back-up, so bring Stella."
Clint ended the call with an angry poke. Opening his contact list, he scrolled for a number he knew by heart. However, it wasn't the number he was looking at. It was the contact photo, debating if he should make another call. His finger hovered over the dial icon then decided against it.
A few minutes later, a black Hummer rolled down the alley and came to a stop. The window slid out of sight and Dooney stuck his head out. "What's the buzz, cuz?"
His friend looked and sounded healthy. However, Clint knew that looks could be deceiving. "I can do this alone, if you're not up to it."
"I'm fine. Even the doc says so. At least for now. I just have to stay away from exploding drug labs, alien invasions and ragweed." Dooney shifted into park, his tone going from bantering to solemn as befitted the occasion. "Give it to me straight, Barton. Why'd you have me drag Stella out of storage?"
All business now, Clint dropped his bombshell. "How'd you like to take down one more bad guy?"
Clint's friend made a show of thinking it over. And that's all it was, a show. "I was instrumental in ending the rein of not one but two Mexican drug cartels. How can I top that?"
A smug grin oozed over Clint's features. "I'm glad you asked…"
~~O~~
James looked at his hand. The ends of the biomechanical fingers had spots of blood where he'd dug into the man's flesh. Natasha tugged at his sleeve again, their eyes meeting, but not for long. He turned away in shame, but she wouldn't let him go. Her grip was strong for a woman. Over his shoulder, he whispered, "I don't want to hurt you, or anyone else. Go."
"We go together, Barnes." Natasha held out her hand, and slowly, reluctantly, he wrapped his flesh and blood fingers around hers. "The police are on their way. Steve and the team too. I don't know why you don't want to see him, but that's your decision, and I'll stand by it."
She smiled, and to please her, he returned it. Then, in his periphery, James saw a flickering light within the unfinished building. What he saw through the darkness gave him the impetus to act.
He released Natasha's hand, picked her up around the waist and ran for the far side of the building. Using the strength of his cybernetic arm, he broke the retaining wire stabilizing the antenna, wrapped it around his arm and ran for the parapet.
They heard a high-pitched whistle-thunk just before an explosion echoed through the night.
TBC