Chapter 20

I was holding a loaded gun. I didn't know where I'd gotten it, but Zola was there in the gloom, smiling and telling me to fire it. I took aim at the figure tied up several feet in front of me.

Natasha.

She was struggling, begging me to stop, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't lower the gun.

"Shoot," Zola ordered, but he sounded more like Rogan now.

I pulled the trigger and woke up screaming.

Hands pushed against my chest and arms in the dark, and I fought against them, trying to draw a breath that wouldn't come.

"Bucky!"

Natasha's voice cut through the blind panic and I pulled back like a wounded animal, afraid I'd hurt her with my struggles. My stomach churned and I willed myself not to be sick. I gasped in a breath and realized my face was wet with tears.

"It's okay. It was a dream." Natasha tried to move towards me once more.

I pulled back further. "Don't."

"It's okay," she repeated, though she stayed where she was beside my makeshift bed. "You're okay. Just breathe."

I tried to obey, and the nausea eased a little. Natasha was alright, I realized. We were still in the apartment and no one else was around. The nightmare had been nothing more than that. "I'm sorry," I breathed.

"I'm the one who suggested you ditch the watch," she replied. "It's hardly your fault."

I shook my head, swallowing thickly. "It's all my fault." And I didn't mean just the nightmare.

Suddenly she was right in front of me, her hand on my arm. "Stop blaming yourself."

I blinked back tears. "Why?"

"Because holding onto the guilt for everything you've done will bleed you dry," she replied grimly. "Trust me, I've been there. If you ever want to make things better, you need to climb out of that pit and realize you don't have to be the monster they made you."

I pulled back from her touch. "But that's exactly what I am," I choked. "Everyone who gets near me suffers for it." I drew a shaky breath. "I'm tired of being the Winter Soldier."

"Then you're tired of being you," Natasha replied.

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you are the Winter Soldier, Bucky," she said simply. "It's how the world knows you. Your identity is wrapped up in the Winter Soldier's body. You have his face, his powers, his mind."

"And that's exactly what I'm sick of!" I said forcefully.

"Why?" Natasha asked. "The enhancements Zola gave you kept you from dying during the War. It's HYDRA's serum and training that enabled you to fight against them, to fight against Thanos. What they did allows you to be the Avenger you are now."

"So you're saying what HYDRA did to me was a good thing?" I asked.

She shook her head. "What they did to you was horrendous, Bucky. But what you do with the power they gave you – that's what decides whether the Winter Soldier is a hero or a monster. You get to choose, and your choice will shape how the world sees you."

"How do you know?" I pressed.

She smiled slightly. "I was the Black Widow long before I joined SHIELD, remember? Let me help you."

I met her steady gaze. "Why would you want to?"

"Because Clint did the same for me," she said simply. "And I had an old pal called Steve who taught me that friends look out for each other regardless of the cost."

Friends.

Since my time as the Winter Soldier, Steve had been the only person I could truly call a friend, the only person I could trust in completely. He was gone now, but maybe it was time I tried that kind of trust again.

Slowly, I nodded. "Okay."

Natasha nodded once and stood up, offering me her hand. "Come on."

I accepted it as I rose to my feet. "Where are we going?"

"We're getting started," she replied enigmatically. "Get your boots on."

I obeyed as she returned to her room to get properly dressed. I wasn't sure what she had in mind, but I'd decided to trust her until she gave me a reason not to. Goodness knew I'd been doing the direct opposite for long enough.

Once Natasha had pulled on her coat and boots, we left the apartment, stepping silently out of the building into the icy night-time air. There were no streetlights in this part of the city, and it took a couple of minutes for my eyes to adjust to the dark as I followed Natasha down the street.

We moved further into the rough area of the city, notable for its increased levels of scattered trash and the messages graffitied on building walls. I wasn't sure if Natasha had her gun on her, but I definitely wasn't armed – not after Sochi. I was beginning to doubt my decision to trust Natasha on this.

As if on cue, angry voices rang out from an alley several feet ahead.

I moved forward quickly, passing Natasha as I approached the alleyway. I peered around the corner and saw two men facing a third. One of them was holding a small package in his hand. "You promised us twice this much," he accused the third man angrily in Russian.

The third guy, probably a drug dealer by the look of the packet, drew himself up defensively. "Yes, that was the deal," he replied, "before those two mad Avengers got the entire city locked down by the police."

The first man shook his head. "That isn't how deals work," he said, drawing a gun.

I stepped forward. "Drop the gun."

The thug with the gun turned to aim it at me. Then his eyes widened in recognition. "Zimniy Soldat," he breathed.

"Shoot!" his accomplice yelled, panicked, but he was too late.

I reached the man with the gun before he'd had a chance to pull the trigger and snatched it out of his hand. I laid him out with a punch and then Natasha was there too, taking on the second buyer.

In the confusion, the dealer made a break for the street. I grabbed him by the jacket and dragged him back to where Natasha stood over her dazed opponent. "What now?" I asked.

"Um…" She rummaged through the pockets of the unconscious buyer and pulled out a phone. "Bingo. Tie 'em up, will you?"

I used the men's shoelaces to bind their hands and feet while Natasha rang the police. Then we retreated from the alley and climbed onto a roof to watch as the baffled cops collected the three men and packet of drugs.

"What do you think?" Natasha asked as we watched the police drive off.

I turned to face her. "I know what your game is, Natasha."

She smiled coyly. "Do you want to keep playing?"

"We're bound to get caught."

"Not if we're careful," she argued. "The police don't hang around areas like these. They're too busy trying to prevent us from leaving the city and making sweeps for us. If we stay low and move fast, we'll be able to stay under the radar – just until I heal and we find a way to slip out. At least this way we'll be doing something worthwhile until we can get back after Rogan."

I couldn't argue her point. We'd delivered three criminals to the police without killing anyone, and it felt good.

I stood up, brushing the snow from the knees of my trousers. "We've still got several hours before dawn."

Natasha grinned as she followed me back down from the roof.