(for disclaimer, etc. - see chapter 1)

Chapter 4

She had managed to completely overthink the whole thing and had officially ruined it all. Helena wished she could have just carried on like before, treating James like a friend, allowing him to do the same with her. They were doing okay. Better than that, they were getting along so well. He had become a real bright spot in her otherwise fairly mundane existence. She lived for their time together, their dates, for lack of a better term, but it was thinking of that kind that had led to this. To the two of them sitting awkwardly on a park bench, barely speaking. Not even really looking at each other.

That wasn't entirely accurate. Helena was trying not to look at James, but he was absolutely looking at her. Not that she could blame him. He was probably wondering what was wrong. He already asked her twice if she was okay and she had assured him she was. 'Just tired, you know how it is,' she had said on his second time of checking. He seemed to buy it, and yet, he was still staring and she was still evading. It was ridiculous.

"You know, if you don't wanna be here-"

"I do," she told him fast, turning to look at him so quickly, she almost gave herself whiplash, and also seemed to startle him more than a bit. "I'm sorry, I know I'm not myself today," she confessed, shaking her head. "I just... I guess, if I'm honest, I'm feeling kind of confused right now."

His brow creased a little as his eyes searched her face. She wondered if he could figure it out on his own. He was a smart guy, from what she had seen and heard so far. Maybe he could just look at her and know what was wrong. It would be so much easier than her trying to explain.

"You know if something's bothering you, whatever it is, you can talk to me," he assured her, hand landing on her arm and giving a reassuring squeeze. "We're friends, right? We can tell each other anything."

Helena just nodded, not knowing what else to do. She did agree with what he said. They were friends, and strangely enough, even after only a month, she did feel as if she could tell him anything at all. She trusted him not to share her secrets or laugh at her fears or anything like that. Unfortunately, none of it helped with the predicament she found herself in. Nothing could fix the fact that she was pretty sure she was falling in love with a guy that was not her husband.

"What is it?" he asked her, as her mouth opened and closed in silence and her eyes filled up with tears.

"I... I don't know how to explain," she told him helplessly. "Trust me, I really wish I did, but I don't."

"Like I said, whatever it is, you can tell me," James repeated. "Anything at all."

Just when she was thinking maybe she could tell him what was wrong, someone else joined them on the bench, pushing against her and shoving her closer to James. He instinctively put his arm around her and pulled her with him to the far end of the bench. Helena suddenly found herself very close to him, closer than she had ever been before. Her vision was filled with the blue of his eyes and she didn't mind at all. She probably should, but she didn't.

"James, I..."

She didn't even know what she wanted to say, but Helena was very clear on what she wanted to do, wrong as it probably was. It would've been so easy just to lean in a little more, to let her lips find his. James certainly didn't look like he would mind at all. She almost did it, she really did, especially when he seemed to be moving in a little closer too. In the end, Helena just couldn't follow through.

Practically leaping from the bench, she turned her back on James, took a few steps away and tried for a few calming breaths. It did not come easy. His hand on her shoulder a few moments later made her flinch horribly.

"I'm sorry," he told her, removing his hand, but apologising for much more than that, she was sure.

"It's not your fault."

That much was true, she really couldn't blame him for their almost-kiss because she had absolutely started the running. Could she let it be his fault that their possible affair ever started? Maybe. He was pretty insistent about getting coffee on that second day they ran into each other, but she was a grown woman, she could have said no. She could've refused any further invitations, but she didn't. She couldn't.

This was the point where things had to change. Turning around to face him, she spoke all in a rush.

"James, we can't... we can't keep on doing this," she told him, her eyes closing halfway through, unable to look at him as she ended things so firmly and abruptly. "We can't see each other anymore, because even though we both keep saying we're just friends, I can't... I just can't," she insisted, opening her eyes to find him staring back at her, not half so surprised as she thought he might be.

He knew. She could see it in his eyes, in his expression. He knew that she felt so much more for him for friendship, and she knew now, with startling clarity, that he felt exactly the same.

"What if...?"

"No," she cut in, the moment he tried to speak. "No, there is no 'what if?' that's going to make this okay," she admitted with a painful burst of near-hysterical laughter, tears rolling down her cheeks. "I'm married. You know that. I know that. It means we can't do this anymore. Nothing can happen, James, because I'm married."

It was almost as if she was trying to convince herself as much as him, which she probably was, truth be told. God, it would be so easy to forget the life she was supposed to have, the husband and the family, the cute little house and all. A part of her wanted to. A part, that was growing all the time, just wanted to let all of that go, throw herself into James' arms and let him take her away from it all, if he wanted to.

"What if you weren't?" he asked her suddenly, startling her from her thoughts. "Married, I mean," he clarified, taking a step closer to her. "What would be different, if you weren't?"

She was convinced he had to know the answer before he ever asked the question, but perhaps the point was to confirm it with her before anything happened. One of those stupidly wonderful things that she had just said couldn't happen at all, but she still wanted with every last atom of her being.

"If I wasn't..." she echoed, swallowing hard, swiping tears from her face. "I don't know," she told him, as he closed the gap between them to almost nothing.

She could move, she had that option. No wall at her back, nothing but open space to run into if she wanted to go. James was just asking a question, that was all. There was nothing threatening about him, nothing to run from, only to run headlong into, if she really wanted to dare.

"James..."

She didn't have the words, she just simply didn't. What Helena did have was an overwhelming urge that was fast becoming uncontrollable, and so, just for a moment, she gave into it. Throwing herself forward, her arms went up around James' neck and her lips crashed against his own. It was wrong, she was well aware, and yet, nothing had ever felt more right as she kissed him and he kissed her back, hands holding tight to her waist.

Something happened. Not just the heart-thumping, knee-buckling feeling of a really amazing kiss with someone she had been wanting for too long. This was something else, something Helena had no explanation for at all.

Behind her eyes, the initial fireworks faded into pictures, blurry images of snow and metal and stone, a startling feeling, like hot and cold at the same time, and voices, so many voices all talking at once. Then one above all, called to her by a name she didn't know, couldn't quite make out...

Backing up fast, Helena almost fell out of James' arms, good reflexes keeping her from landing on her butt in the grass. She was breathing hard, but then so was he, though her own condition wasn't all about the kiss. Unless it was, but she couldn't explain what the one thing had to do with the other. She couldn't explain what had gone on inside her head at all, not for the world.

"I'm sorry," they seemed to say at the same time, not that it really made a difference.

"I have to go," she added fast, turning around and literally running for all she was worth.

He didn't say anything, didn't call her name, didn't give chase or try to stop her. That was probably for the best anyway, Helena was sure, and yet fresh tears pouring down her cheeks as she pelted back to the subway proved she didn't really believe it. Not for one second.


"So, you guys kissed. Can't say I'm exactly shocked about that."

The way Sam said it made it all sound so simple. Bucky knew it was anything but.

"I didn't mean for it to happen, not like that," he insisted, pacing the room as if he were a caged tiger, feeling very much like one.

He would give anything to have someone to beat into the ground right now, some way to release the tension that was almost overwhelming him. There were never any bad guys around when you really needed them.

"But the way you told it, she kissed you, not the other way around," Sam noted, standing by the counter with his arms folded across his chest. "So much for your theory that she just wanted to be friends. Hey, come on, man," he said, his hand on Bucky's shoulder on his next pass, pulling him to a halt. "This is a good sign. If she likes you all this much, there's every chance she'll choose you over this Jones character."

"And then what?" Bucky asked crossly, shrugging his shoulder away from Sam's grip. "She's still not Nat. She's still Helena Jones. She has no idea who she was before, or what she was. I don't know how to tell her that, Sam, and I'm not... I was built for a lot of horrible things, but not this. You know when she ran away, I couldn't even yell after her? I opened my mouth and I was this close to calling her Natalia," he admitted, finger and thumb a tiny distance apart, proving just how narrow a thing it had been.

To his credit, Sam looked sympathetic, but that didn't help much, in reality. There was no good solution to this problem. Getting Nat away from Jones would be a start, and maybe they could do that, but bringing out the truth, letting her know her real name, her real life, all that she had done, good and bad, not to mention her history with Bucky himself, there really was no right way to do that.

Before they could even discuss it more, his cell started to ring loudly in his pocket, the tone he had assigned to her. Frowning, he reached for the phone, not even needing to look at the screen before he took the call.

"Helena..." he began with a purpose, but she didn't give him a chance to say any more.

"James, I need to see you, now."

There was nothing particularly demanding in the way she said it, but the fear in her voice, the genuine pain and panic, it was something he hadn't heard in decades and never, ever wanted to hear again. His blood ran cold as he looked at Sam, covering the mouthpiece and speaking fast.

"Something's wrong. She's in trouble."

Before he could do anything else, Sam swiped the cell from his hand and hit a button, the sound of Helena calling 'James?' and the general noise of city streets filling the apartment.

"I'm here," he told her. "What's going on? Where are you?"

"I just got out of the subway at Parkside Avenue. I realise now I don't even know exactly where you live," she said, the same hysterical kind of laughter lacing her voice that he had heard in the park, but a hundred times worse now.

He could hear a hitch in her breathing too, with every step she took, not related to the eerie laughter or the crying she was or had been doing either. She was injured, probably her leg, and she was more than a little panicked. Running from something or someone, no doubt.

"Are you being followed?" he asked like an instinct, not even thinking how that might sound to her, not until he saw the incredulous look on Sam's face.

"No, I don't think so. He couldn't... Not after... James, I'm scared."

His heart broke at the sound of those words and the way she said them. Natalia Romanova didn't show fear, not to the world, but to him once or twice, a long time ago, for reasons he didn't want to think about right now. Helena Jones didn't know how to be the kind of strong that Nat had been trained for, but Bucky was more than capable of being strong for the both of them, for just as long as he had to.

"Okay, it's going to be okay," he promised her. "Just get back to the subway, take the Brighton Line right down to Avenue U. I'll be at the station when you get off, I promise."

She took a shaky breath before she answered him. "Okay. Thank you. I'll see you soon."

"I'll be there," he swore, just before the call ended.


It wasn't quite as bad as he thought it might be. She was so shaken up, crying harder than he had ever seen her cry before when she finally saw him. Bucky didn't say anything for a while, just stood on the subway platform holding her tight, rubbing her back as she sobbed uncontrollably into his shoulder. After a while, when she was over the worst of it, he leant his support on the side she was clearly limping and they made their way back to his place.

Sam was still there, waiting with first aid supplies, a box of tissue, and a sympathetic expression. Bucky knew for sure he had a gun in the back of his waistband too, just in case. Neither one of them really wanted to believe they were being played, not by Nat's alter-ego or anyone else, but they had learned to be careful over the last few months and years. In their line of work, it would be a fool that hadn't.

"It's okay," Bucky told Nat and Sam both. "He's a friend. He was here when you called and he was worried, but it's okay. He's leaving now," Bucky said pointedly.

Sam nodded in understanding, patting Bucky on the shoulder as he passed by to the door. "I'll talk to you soon, man," he said, just as pointedly, and then, he was gone.

Bucky helped Nat to the couch and she sat down hard, wincing as she jarred her leg. Kneeling down in front of her, he looked up into her eyes and hated the pain and confusion he found there. He thought it had been bad enough at the park, but this was so much worse. A married woman feeling guilty over an affair was one thing, this was something else entirely.

"What happened?" he asked her gently.

Nat shook her head, bit her lip, struggled so much to find the words. Bucky didn't rush her, didn't touch her, did nothing but give her the time she needed. Eventually, she would find the words and the strength. He had faith and all the patience in the world for her.

"I told him," she said eventually. "I got home and he was there, so I told him that I... About us," she admitted, swallowing hard before she could go on. "I didn't exactly expect him to be happy. I mean, who would be, right?" she said, almost smiling, as if it could be funny in any other context, though Bucky doubted that was true. "I never thought he would..." she trailed off, swiping tears from under both eyes. "And I didn't mean to react like that. I didn't even know I could."

The way she held her hands out, as if what they were capable of was beyond her, Bucky well understood the fear, the confusion, the pain. Nat had said very little by way of explanation, but he could fill in the blanks, at least, he was pretty sure.

"He put his hands on you," he said of Jones, feeling sick at the very idea, "and you... reacted?"

"I don't know what happened," she said, voice shaking horribly. "I just..."

She was replaying it all behind her eyes, he could tell. He had done it himself a hundred times and hated himself over and over. Inside her head, she saw every kick and punch, heard and felt every sickening blow.

Her instincts had taken over, that much was clear, and Bucky couldn't be sorry about that. She must have really done a number on Jones, even if he had given almost as good as he got, or at least, as good as he could manage against the great might of Black Widow.

"James, I think... I think might've killed him," she admitted, voice disappearing to almost nothing more than a whisper, fresh tears streaming from her eyes. "And after what happened at the park... What's happening to me?"

Not knowing how to explain any more now than he had before, Bucky moved to sit beside her and pulled her into his arms. Holding on tight, he kissed the top of her head and promised her that, no matter what, everything was going to be okay. He had no idea how that was possible, but for her, he was going to find a way, no matter what.

To Be Continued...