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 38
James was so gentle with her, yet capable of great destruction, despite his assurance that he didn't want to kill again. If his instincts took over, it could mean disaster, but she didn't think it likely.
"When do you want to go?" Natasha asked quietly.
His eyes dropped to the floor as he thought it over. "Whenever you think is best. Will you call him?"
"Let's take a few days to get used to the idea." She looked down at their hands to find he was no longer holding her to keep her with him. He'd moved his hand so that their fingers were entwined. When their eyes met again, he seemed to be searching for something. Not wanting to hurt his feelings, she carefully released him and started the water to wash the dishes. "We'll revisit the subject this weekend. Until then, let's just continue with our routine."
He nodded and picked up the towel used for drying. "Sparring tomorrow?"
"Yes." She rinsed a dish and set it in the drainer. James picked it up, dried it and moved around her to put it away, affording her a view of his back. His t-shirt pulled tight across his shoulders, outlining the muscles, and bringing the scar around his prosthesis into stark relief, making her think of what could happen if their situation were different, if they were different.
Mentally rolling her eyes, Natasha reminded herself that if everything had gone according to plan, she would still be young, while James would be Bucky, and in his nineties. Their chances of anything more happening between them other than playful flirting that neither would take seriously were so small as to be insignificant.
While her mind had been wandering, Natasha's hands stayed busy so that when James turned around, dishes were stacked in the drainer waiting to be dried and put away. For a moment, he gave her an odd look then continued with his task.
Natasha let the water out, cleaned the sink and went into the living room, plopping down on the end of the sofa with her knees up. She reached for her book and opened it to the marked page. Though she turned pages, she retained only bits and pieces of the content. Instead, her mind was occupied with the reason behind James's sudden change of heart. Why now? What had changed? She wanted to know but didn't think grilling him would get the answers she wanted. He was ready, and that's all that really mattered.
His footsteps crossed the living room floor, and from the corner of her eye, she saw him hesitate before opening the door and going outside, as if he were waiting for her to join him.
Tossing the book aside, Natasha ran to her room for her boots and socks. She sat on the sofa to put them on, rushed to the door and jerked it open, mentally preparing herself for a short run to catch up. It turned out not to be necessary because James was standing at the top step leaning on the post. As she came to his side, he took the steps in one bound, shortening his longer stride to keep pace with her, and together, they headed into the forest.
Hours Later
Lying in bed, James stared at the ceiling, going over in his head the decision to finally meet with Steve. Natasha had been shocked, though she covered it well. With just each other for company all these months, he'd gotten to know her well enough to tell her moods and emotions with little or no physical clues. He was certain she could do the same with him. She was, after all, an operative, an asset, just as he was, with one difference. Natasha had free will and had chosen that life.
Some of his memories of being the Asset had resurfaced in recent weeks, though he didn't mention the fact to Natasha. Most weren't clear, just vague images that popped into his head at unguarded moments, like when he was sleeping or meditating. Before seeing Steve, James wanted to work on bringing some of those memories out into the open where he could see them clearly. The authorities for whom Steve and Natasha worked would likely want to question him. They would ask for names and dates, and would keep at him until they got them, even if it meant locking him up. Natasha said on several occasions that she wouldn't allow that to happen, and he believed her.
Steve worked with Natasha, they were friends. Logically, that meant Steve would also provide protection. Not that James needed it. His skills would get him free, if anyone tried to make him a prisoner, but then he would be alone again. He'd rather be a temporary captive than live on his own, but only if Steve and Natasha were his jailers.
There was another, as well. It had been his intervention that had gotten Steve and Natasha captured when he'd been sent to kill them. The man who could fly.
James watched the scene unfold on the helicarrier as he ripped one of the wings off, and the man dropped toward the ground like a stone, spinning in the air. To his relief, he also saw a parachute, allowing the man to land safely. One more person to whom he would have to make amends when they met again. One more added to an already lengthy list.
Another thought moved to take its place in line. It was something Natasha said on the way to dinner.
…a man named Tony Stark.
Why did that name resonate so clearly in his memory? Natasha's quiet footsteps passed by his door to the bathroom. James had questions, and she would have or could get the answers. He opened his door and waited for her to come out. She stopped upon seeing him, a question in her eyes.
"The man who could fly. What's his name?"
Her expression softened into what appeared to be affection. "Sam Wilson, or the Falcon, if you prefer."
James looked at his feet, crossed his arms and leaned on the door jamb. "Will he be there when we go back?"
"Undoubtedly. Why?" She closed the gap between them, wrapping her slender fingers around his arm. "He's alive, James. You didn't hurt him."
"I've killed and injured so many people to whom I will never be able to apologize. The more I remember, the longer the list gets. At least I'll be able to make amends to him."
Natasha gave a tug, and he let her hold his hand again. "None of it was your fault, James. You were brainwashed, drugged, and conditioned to obey orders. HYDRA killed those people, not you."
"They used me as the weapon. That makes it my fault."
"It's not the gun's fault when one person shoots another." With her free hand, Natasha covered a yawn. "I'm too tired to debate semantics tonight. Let's take this up again in the morning." She gave his hand one last squeeze and let go. "Back to bed, Bucky Barnes. Get some sleep."
"Stark."
At her door, she huffed and turned to face him again. "What about him?"
"I recognize the name."
"Zavtra. Dobroy nochi." She moved away from him, and a moment later, her door closed. Every night, he waited for the lock to click, but it never did. Not once, and it made him smile that she gave him her trust.
~~O~~
In her room, Natasha turned on her phone and sent a message to Clint to make discrete inquiries concerning Stark Industries and the possibility of a collaboration between Howard Stark and HYDRA. From what she heard from Steve about Tony's father and the man's involvement with the government, it was unlikely that one of the founders of SHIELD had been working both sides of the street. But then, HYDRA had grown inside SHIELD for over seventy years and Fury had been the only one to notice.
The phone clattered on the nightstand, she switched out the light, and pulled the covers up to her chest. Just as she was dozing off, the phone vibrated against the base of the lamp making a metallic stuttering sound. She looked at the text from her partner, puzzled with his response.
*Need you here ASAP. A-1 priority.*
Putting it down to one of Clint's practical jokes, Natasha responded, **Not in the mood tonight, Clint. TTYL.** She was about to shut the phone off when it vibrated again.
*We're sending in the clowns. Join us?*
Tossing the covers aside, Natasha sat on the side of the bed, her thumb tapping out a response. **Veshat lapshu na ushi?**
Clint's answer arrived within seconds. *Nyet, sestrenka.*
"Bozhe moi!" **Pick me up. Will send coordinates.**
Going to the closet, Natasha reached for clean clothes. Clint never texted in Russian or called her "little sister" unless the situation were dire or was connected to the Avengers.
She had to leave tonight and couldn't take James with her, so the first order of business was to stock the food supplies with items that didn't require more than the microwave. The day he tried to make an omelet, she managed to get the fire out before the suppression system came on or the mess would've much worse.
But would he stay if she told him to, or would he insist on coming with her knowing she would likely be seeing Steve? If he stayed, and she was gone longer than expected, she would have to arrange a way to get food to him. No problem there. One of her contacts could be trusted to keep an eye on James while she was away. All the man would need was the codes to tap into the security system. James wouldn't even know or suspect he was being watched.
Because he relied on her for emotional support, she would video chat as often as possible. Hopefully, whatever the problem was, it would be solved quickly. And what about the weapons? She couldn't allow him to have access while she was gone.
Then there was Internet access. Natasha went with limited access. Of course, she had no idea how deep his knowledge of computers went.
She finished getting dressed, hooked the duffle bag over her shoulder and left her room with the SUV keys in hand. Before she could get to the front door, James came out. He saw she was leaving, and ducked back into his room, coming out with his jacket, hat and shoes.
"Stay," she ordered in a no nonsense tone. "I'll be back in a couple of hours." He opened his mouth and shut it again without asking the question. The door slammed, and soon, she was on the road into town.
~~O~~
At the store, she grabbed a cart and headed inside. Within thirty minutes, Natasha had filled it with enough frozen dinners, canned, and boxed food to keep James fed for at least a month. At the register, the cashier gave her a strange look. "Know something I don't?"
Her eyes narrowed in annoyance. "Excuse me?"
He nodded at her purchases. "Looks like you're stocking up for an alien invasion or the apocalypse or something."
"Or something." Natasha hit him with a minor glare, passed over the cash, and returned to the SUV to unload the cart then went to the diner next door for coffee.
She returned to the cabin to find James sitting on the porch waiting for her. He came to help her carry everything inside and put it away. In the back of the laundry room was a freezer where she put the frozen dinners, and again, James followed her. "What's this for?"
Without even slowing down at her task, she told him the truth. "I have to go away for a while. Not sure how long. Everything I bought is easy to make without causing a fire or some other disaster."
"Away?" His tone made her pause for a fraction of a second. "Where?"
"Can't say." The lid slammed closed, and Natasha turned toward the kitchen. James blocked her way. "I don't know. Clint sent a message that he needs my help. It's one I can't ignore."
Crossing his arms over his chest, James stood firm. "Take me with you."
Before he even finished the sentence, Natasha was shaking her head as she ducked around him. He dogged her all the way to the supply closet. "Don't know what I'm headed into, James. It could be dangerous."
"Then you need me."
He watched her take out several weapons, including the Widow's Bites and the energy batons Stark had created for her. She stashed them in a second duffle bag that would be locked in a hidden compartment on the SUV with the other weapons. When she turned around, he was blocking the doorway. As she moved toward him, he stepped aside.
Opening a hidden panel, Natasha typed in a code, and a heavy metal door slid into place, hiding the weapons from sight. She pressed her palm to a flat rectangle, and a green light scanned her fingerprints and DNA.
A mechanical voice spoke aloud. "Identity confirmed."
"Commence lockdown procedure Yankee-victor-hotel-five-three-three."
"Confirmed. Lockdown commencing in ten seconds." The screen next to the scanner lit up, counting down from ten.
Natasha backed up until she ran into James. Belatedly, he moved out of the way again. When the countdown reached zero, the entire back wall sparked briefly then settled into a violet glow. She closed the door, explaining as she went into the bathroom for several personal items. "It's just a precaution, James."
"You don't trust me."
The tone of his voice, as if he'd lost something he'd never get back, made her feel bad. "It's for your safety."
At the computer, she entered a code that basically switched the parental controls, but on a much higher level. It restricted where James could go, and what he could see and do. She took a sheet of paper and pen from the desk and made a quick note. "If you need anything, email me at that address. But only in an emergency. If you run out of food or a tree falls on the cabin, etc. I can be here in a few hours. If you're injured and need to go to the hospital, call that number and say "Yataghan."
James looked at the note, laid it on the desk, and followed her to the door, once mo re pleading his case. "I should go with you."
She inhaled, preparing to shoot him down, but couldn't do it. The look in his eyes was that of a frightened animal, one who'd been beaten one too many times, yet was still afraid to be alone. Letting the air out, Natasha took a smaller breath. "You can't, James," she said gently. He got that stubborn look in his eyes, similar, yet different from the first time he shot her. "I don't want to fight."
To her surprise, one side of his mouth turned up in a tiny smile. "Neither do I."
Before she could move, he grasped her shoulders, and pulled her to him. His mouth covered hers, soft and tender, only meant to convey a message. When the initial shock wore off, Natasha's hands touched his waist, holding on briefly. Then, she pushed away, and they stood there for a moment, looking into each other's eyes.
James stepped back, his arms dropping to his sides. Natasha opened the door, glanced over her shoulder at him then stepped out and closed the door. In the car, she put everything else out of her mind, mentally preparing for the coming mission, whatever is was.
Natasha pulled into the convenience store for more coffee, and on the way back to the SUV, she sent a set of coordinates. Within seconds, Clint responded that he would pick her up in two hours. She tossed the phone into the passenger seat, and turned on Stark's favorite music, guaranteeing she wouldn't fall asleep at the wheel.
Stark Tower
Lightning flashed through a midnight blue sky devoid of clouds, and moments later, Thor landed on the helipad of Stark Tower. As he descend the stairs, his red cape and armor transformed into less conspicuous clothing of jeans, boots and a light blue button-front shirt over a white t-shirt.
His first stop on his quest to locate Stark was the bar, but the lounge was empty. Rather than continue the search on foot, he chose a much quicker method. "Jarvis, where would I find Stark at this hour?"
"He's in the lab, sir." There was a short pause. "I've informed Mr. Stark of your arrival. He'll be with you momentarily. Please avail yourself of food and drink while you wait."
Going behind the bar, Thor took out a bottle of beer, twisted the top off and drank the entire contents in one long swallow.
By the time Stark arrived, the Asgardian was on his third beer and was devouring the food he found in the refrigerator. "Ah, Stark. It is good to see you again."
"Wish I could say the same, Point Break." Thor came from behind the bar to take a seat on one of the tall chairs while his host poured a drink from a crystal decanter. "Every time one of your people comes to Earth, shit happens."
"Unfortunately, it may be true this time as well." He took another drink, watching Stark take a bag of blueberries from the refrigerator and pop a few into his mouth.
Stark poured more of the amber liquid, taking a sip before going down to the sitting area. "Jarvis, ask Dr. Banner to join us."
"Of course, sir."
Within a few moments, the lift arrived, and Banner came down the stairs to join them with a smile, extending his hand. "Tony didn't tell me you were coming."
Stark made a sound of humor. Or it could be annoyance. Thor could never be certain.
"Didn't know. Like a stray puppy, he just showed up on my doorstep." Banner helped himself to a bottle of something called root beer then came to join them. "Now that we've fed him, he'll never leave."
Banner took off his glasses and shoved them into a pocket. "What brings you here?"
"I've been tasked with locating and returning Loki's scepter to Asgard."
Stark stretched his legs out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. "I've had Jarvis working on it since you and your brother took off after the invasion. Nada."
"Nada? I do not know this word."
The hand holding the glass made a vague gesture. "It's Spanish for 'we're screwed'. There've been hints of its whereabouts, but nothing concrete." He tossed another blueberry into his mouth, speaking around the food. "Why did the Powers That Be of the nine realms wait so long to send you on this snipe hunt?"
Thor finished off the beer and set the bottle aside. "I have never hunted this snipe of which you speak. As for why now, there are whispers across the realms of an impending event that could have disastrous consequences for all, including Midgard. The scepter is just one item that could aid in our understanding of these events. I do not wish to inconvenience you and the others, Stark. If you are unable or unwilling to help, I must continue the search on my own."
"You really know how to lay on a guilt trip, don't you?"
Jarvis spoke from all around them. "Shall I contact the Avengers and invite them to attend, sir?"
Waving a hand, Stark dismissed the AI. "I'll do that myself. In the meantime, get their rooms ready, stock the pantries, etc." To Banner, Stark said, "Mind keeping him entertained while I make a few calls?"
"Not at all."
Without waiting for Banner's agreement, Stark disappeared into another part of the floor, leaving the two men alone. The man of science seemed uneasy in his presence. Or did until he spoke.
"How's Dr. Foster doing?"
"She is quite well since this latest incident."
Banner's smile turned sad. "Sorry to hear about your mother and brother."
"On Frigga's behalf, I thank you. However, Loki has returned from the dead more than once. I've not given up hope that he will do so again." Swallowing the last of the beer, Thor held the bottle up to the light, turning everything brown. "And what of your woman, Banner? Is she well?"
Banner choked on a blueberry, using the root beer to clear his throat. He wiped his mouth with a napkin before responding. "Who?"
"You and Natasha have been keeping company, have you not?"
"Um, not in the way you mean, Thor. At least, not anymore." Banner looked away, and Thor knew that his friend didn't want to talk about the situation. Both men were saved from an uncomfortable silence when Stark returned, speaking to the air.
"… Cap'll be here in the morning with Hill in tow… They just got in from Chicago… Romanoff's number is disconnected, so it's up to you to get her here… Cap's orders… Back atcha, Legolas." Stark removed the comm from his ear and tossed it on the table. "We're assembling at 0700 for a breakfast meeting."
Getting to his feet, Banner covered a yawn. "I haven't slept in over a day. I'm gonna head off to bed."
Thor stood as well. "Good advice for all." He nodded to Stark and followed Banner to the lifts.
Barton Farm
The farm was so far out of town that the silence could be deafening. To Clint at least. He loved his family, and his home, but sometimes he needed noise that wasn't chickens, the tractor, horses neighing, or cattle lowing. That's what made the call from Stark annoying and exciting at the same time. Annoying because it came in the middle of the night. Exciting because he was calling the Avengers to assemble at HQ.
Pacing on the porch, Clint reviewed the text from Natasha asking him to make discrete inquiries regarding Stark's father's activities during and immediately following the World War II.
He responded and waited impatiently for a reply. Natasha seemed to think this was one of his pranks. To show her he was deadly serious, he used one of their private codes to get her attention. They corresponded back and forth, and soon, he received a set of coordinates in New Hampshire. He knew the area to be devoid of a human population making it unlikely he'd be seen picking her up.
Whatever this new mission was, it could get done without Natasha's help, but Rogers was big on team participation, so he'd done as Stark said, and invited her along for the ride. Clint had to admit Rogers had a point about team spirit. He felt better knowing she would have his back and he'd have hers.
Easing the front door open, he tiptoed up the stairs to the room he shared with his wife. He was tempted to let Laura sleep because she was always exhausted the first trimester of her pregnancy, but she wouldn't forgive him for not saying good bye.
Crouching next to the bed, Clint smoothed a hand over Laura's hair and touched her cheek. She blinked and sat up, switching on the bedside lamp. The light's glow showed a frown in place of her usual smile. "Duty calls?"
"Yeah."
Resigned, she exhaled loudly. "How long will you be gone this time?"
"Not sure. I'll call you before we head out. Maryellen will give you a hand, if you need it." He leaned forward at the same time Laura did, their lips touching in a soft and sweet kiss. "Love you."
"Love you too, Hawkeye."
Coming from his wife, the nickname sounded strange, making him chuckle. Clint held the covers up so she could put her legs in, pulling it up to her chest. He switched out the light, picked up his bag and case, and closed the door behind him.
He made his way down the hall, peeking into his kids' rooms, silently apologizing for taking off in the middle of the night yet again.
As quietly as possible, he opened the secret panel in the living room closet, taking out his go-bag and the case for his bow and quiver. He shoved a knife into each boot and dropped the K-bar in with his clothes and Hawkeye suit, just in case they had to make a bold statement.
The quinjet was hidden in a grove a trees not far from the main house, and he made the walk in record time. Natasha had given him two hours to meet her at the rendezvous point, and he would just make it. His best friend had been MIA for months, literally shacked up with a legendary assassin that most still believed was a ghost.
His next stop was the training base to get Rogers and Hill. The newly minted couple had just come from spending time with Hill's father, giving Rogers some interesting stories to tell. Though she wouldn't say so, Hill and Rogers had to be serious or she'd never have allowed him to plan the trip to Chicago. Hill herself hadn't been home for more than fifteen years. The last time she spoke to her father in person had been ten years ago. He wouldn't have known except that he'd been there at the time as Coulson's backup.
Once in the air, Clint put the quinjet into stealth mode, and settled back for the ride. The autopilot would alert him ten minutes out from his first destination. Until then, he could get in a little nap.
Secret SHIELD Training Base
Steve and Maria had only been asleep for a couple of hours when they got the call from Stark telling them Thor was in town and needed their help. Barton called not long after with an ETA for his arrival. On his own, Steve would've gone for a long run to pass the time, but with Maria here, he set the alarm, spooned her against his chest, and went back to sleep.
Hours later, they showered and dressed. Packing wasn't necessary because they hadn't unpacked from their Chicago trip. Steve merely added his uniform and shield.
~~O~~
Once on board the quinjet, Steve and Natasha had a stare down. In that intense green gaze, he could see that she wouldn't be giving him any more answers now than she had via text and email. With a nod, he let her know that he respected her wishes, but only up to a point. She responded with a smirk and the lift of one eyebrow.
Maria saw the byplay and nudged Steve with her elbow. For the rest of the flight, Steve's attention was all on her. He knew he was-what did they call it? Being played. And let her get away with it.
For her position as Junior VP of New Acquisitions, Maria wore a modest yet elegant blue dress and heels suitable for working in an office setting. She was due back at her desk at Stark Industries, and though Steve had been told to bring her, they wanted to keep the illusion that she worked solely for Stark alive as long as possible, in spite of her extracurricular activities with SHIELD.
Steve exited the lift on the lounge level with Natasha and Barton. The catering staff was already hard at work setting up for breakfast. He went to the coffee station and helped himself, standing and watching his teammates greet each other. After a couple of false starts, Banner and Natasha hugged.
Just after 0700, the team attacked the buffet tables, loading up their plates, and carrying them to the sitting area in front of the fireplace. Natasha sat on the end of the long sofa, and Banner, after a moment's hesitation, sat next to her.
Once their appetites had been appeased, Thor moved in front of the fireplace. "Many thanks to all of you for coming." His deep voice rumbled through the room. He drank from his cup and set it on the table. "The Infinity Stones are six immensely powerful gems, known by their respective powers and colors. Mind is blue, power is red, space is purple, time orange, and reality is yellow. The soul stone has been missing for many millennia. Its color is unknown. It is believed that one of these stones may be a part of the scepter that Loki wielded in his quest to rule Midgard.
"It is rumored that Thanos is collecting the stones. His purpose is unknown at this time. However, it will likely not bode well for the nine realms…"
Banner raised his hand. "For those of us not up on our realms history, who is Thanos?"
"Thanos is one of the galaxy's most powerful and feared warlords. He rules over a region of space, having gained control over the Chitauri. He has forged several alliances in his quest to locate the stones. Loki was among the first of these alliances."
The expression on Banner's face changed from merely curious to uneasy as he reached for his cup. Steve didn't blame him. He felt apprehensive himself.
Thor paused while the scientist helped himself to a refill, glancing over his shoulder. "Sorry I asked. Please go on."
"Thanos hungers for more than just power. He is sadistic and cruel, even to his own daughters. He steals children to raise as assassins, forcing them to watch as he murders their families."
Stark shifted in his seat next to Steve. "Stop right there, Point Break. You got us, hook, line, and sinker. Let's make plans for locating the scepter and making sure this Thanos doesn't get his slimy hands on it."
Natasha spoke for the first time. "Exactly how do we do that?"
The billionaire pointed a finger at Natasha. "Haven't figured that out yet, but I will." He motioned to Banner, and the two men headed for the lifts by way of the buffet table where Stark piled more food on his plate. "We will."
Left on their own, the rest of the team milled around. Natasha's eyes met Steve's. She lifted her chin telling him they needed to speak privately. He indicated the patio, and together they climbed the stairs.
As soon as the door closed behind them, Steve turned Natasha to face him. "Stop lying to me, Natasha. It's been months since the two of you boarded the train in Brooklyn. Tell me where Bucky is."
"Every time we've spoken, I've told you the truth. If I did tell you where he is, what would you do?" Her head tilted to the side, an indication that she already knew the answer.
Steve paced a few steps away to keep himself from shaking her in frustration. "I just want to talk to him for a few minutes." He rubbed the back of his head. "I know it was Bucky who rescued me after the helicarrier crashed. Just before I passed out, I saw him reaching for me. When I woke up in the hospital, I thought he'd be there."
He leaned on the railing, hands clasped together, and his head down. Natasha came to his side and held his hand briefly. "If it were up to me, you would be with him, but it's not. For seventy years, others have told him what to do, when to eat, when to sleep, who to kill. He's relearning, slowly, how to make his own decisions, and to control the instincts that HYDRA programmed into him.
"To say he's suffering from PTSD is putting it mildly. When we first got to the safe house, he awoke screaming nearly every night. The nightmares are coming less frequently now, but they're still intense, as are the flashbacks. He's afraid he'll hurt someone."
Concern drew Steve's eyebrows together. "Has he hurt you?"
Shaking her head, Natasha looked off into the distance. "One night, I fell asleep on the sofa. I awoke to find him armed and standing guard. When I asked why, he said he wouldn't allow the
Einstzgruppen to take me from him the way they had Isolde."
Steve inhaled and let it out. "She's a young woman he met a few days before…"
Natasha leaned against the railing, crossing her arms. "During my research, I found she'd been imprisoned by one of Hitler's mobile death squads. They tortured her for weeks because they'd been told she was collaborating with the enemy. She died a slow and very painful death from her injuries, and it was all because someone had seen the two of them together and knew he was American."
She looked away and let out a long breath. Steve wanted to ask questions that were none of his business but couldn't invade her and Bucky's privacy. "What didn't you tell him?"
"What I shared with Barnes was carefully edited to eliminate all mention of the fact that, at the time of her death, Isolde was pregnant with his child."
"How do you know it was Bucky's? Men weren't the only ones who sought comfort when and wherever they could find it during the war."
The sad smile flashed was for Bucky as much as for the loss of a child he'd never know existed. "I have resources, Rogers. Access to data that the FBI, the CIA and Homeland Security dream of when they go to bed at night. Those resources tell me that Isolde Gruber, born in 1928 in Leipzig, Germany had been raised in an orphanage by nuns. She was sixteen and had been on her own for less than a month when she met Barnes."
"So she was…"
"A virgin. Yes." Natasha poked him in the side. "You know what that's like."
Turning to face her, Steve leaned an elbow on the railing, matching her grin with one of his own, adding an arched eyebrow for effect. "Yeah, well, things change, Romanoff."
TBC
Veshat lapshu na ushi = To tell someone lies, try to fool someone (literally, to hang spaghetti on his/her ears).
Zavtra. Dobroy nochi. = Tomorrow. Good night.
Yataghan = double-curved Turkish sword