I decided to upload a little early because I had the time to write this and thought, why keep it for another few days? :). So here it is. Sorry in advance if anyone is OOC(out of character). I tried my best. As always, reviews are highly appreciated! Thank you and enjoy!

Alright, everybody say it with me. I DON'T OWN CAPTAIN AMERICA

Natasha watched and waited. And waited for the carrier to come down. For Steve to be alright and for HYDRA to be stopped. But as usual, good luck didn't play her a visit. She watched the third carrier take off and ran out of the building, following it from the ground as it touched the clouds in the sky.

"Come on, Steve," she pleaded as the carrier stopped moving over the Potomac and stood still in the air.

The explosion made her jump and she rarely jumped at anything, cursing herself for bring so unprepared. The fiery helicarrier began steadily descending from the sky into the blue-green water of the river. "Steve!" she yelled although she doubted that he would be able to hear her over the noise. If he could still hear at all.

Metal pieces began falling from the ship as it fell, landing in the river. Natasha ran towards the river banks, turning her attention away from the carrier in order to watch her step along the uneven ground.

In a few minutes, she was adjacent from where the carrier was falling, a gun in her hand, aimed and ready to fire.

The sound of something being dropped caught her attention and she advanced forward with quiet footsteps. The small tide pushed and pulled the water from the toes of her boots back into the river. Chunks of metal had washed up on shore, grotesque shapes sticking up out of the sand everywhere she looked.

In the sand in front of her, the Winter Soldier was unconscious in the sand, his head in his hands.

Steve was a little farther up that him.

Natasha ran forward and dropped down next to the fallen soldier.

"What did he do to you?" Natasha asked, looking at all of his wounds that were leaking a steady flow of crimson blood.

"Well hello to you too," Steve replied and gave a small smirk.

"Steve," Natasha pushed.

"It wasn't him. HYDRA was controlling him," Steve whispered, his lips chapped and red from blood.

"Sure they were. We need to get you to a hospital," Natasha said as she stood up. "I don't have a phone. And I can't leave you here. Can you walk?" It was a long-shot, but the hospital was only a few miles away. Asking someone to walk whilst bleeding out was risky, but it was the better option to leaving him with a psychopath while she ran for help.

"You won't be able to get me there."

"Saying I'm weak, Rogers? You're the one approaching a hundred." Natasha snapped back as Steve cracked a smile at her remark.

Something shifted behind her and Natasha spun, the barrel of the gun meeting Bucky's head.

"I can help," he murmured.

"Sure. I'm going to let you near the man you almost killed," Natasha spat.

"I didn't mean to! They stole my memories! They broke me! You have to believe me," Bucky pleaded. There was a familiarity in his voice. Probably what she had sounded like after her first assignment, when the Red Room was still stuck in her head. The feeling that she wasn't a killer. That the body on the floor wasn't there because of her doing. Because she wasn't holding the murder weapon in her hand, the barrel still warm from when it had fired and hit its mark. Because she was still innocent, still in there somewhere, but she was poisoned. Her mind had been toiled with. People had played with it just for fun, to watch her squirm.

Probably what Bucky felt like. She knew what he was going through but tried not to show it.

But Bucky knew. Her body language screamed "uncomfortable". She was hiding something.

Natasha stood frozen.

"Natasha. He's my friend. You need his help," Steve replied for her.

"Fine. One move I don't like and that metal arm is going to be melted down to make more bullets," Natasha said.

Bucky nodded in understanding and stood up.

"Steve, you need to sit up," Natasha ordered.

He sat up slowly, a thin trail of blood leaving his lips. He did not complain, but his face was a mass of pain.

His teeth were clenched together, his breathing heavy and raspy. Natasha and Bucky grabbed under his arms and hoisted him up so that he was supported between them.

"Damn, you're heavy," Bucky said.

"Shut up," Natasha ordered and Bucky closed his mouth.

They slowly walked forward, Steve putting most of his weight towards Bucky as he limped forward on his good leg.

It was a long walk to the hospital. A nurse saw them and ordered medical attention when they were in sight.

Natasha took a large sigh when Steve's weight was literally taken off her shoulders. Nurses carried him on a stretcher and into the hospital, yelling orders and numbers as they ran.

"He'll be fine. Never did back down from a fight. Not even when he knew he'd lose," Bucky said, trying to give Natasha some confidence.

"What makes you think you can talk to me?" Natasha ordered. Her eyes were sharp and fierce, as if their gaze by themselves could make him talk.

"I-"

"You did this to him. Under mind control or not, this was done by your hand," she spat. Sure, it may be a little harsh, but Steve was God knows where inside the hospital, all because of his long lost brainwashed friend with a metal arm. She had a reason to be defensive.

"They won't let you in to see him. Not yet. If you ever want to lay eyes on him again, I suggest you either wait out here for however long it takes or you go find another long lost friend." Natasha walked into the hospital, pushing past nurses to get to the front desk and ask where Steve was.

Bucky sat on the sidewalk for five hours. Five hours of just thinking. Memories, regrets. It was strange to have feelings again.

When HYDRA had him, he was trained to never have any emotion. That had started to crumble. Slowly but surely, he was starting to feel human again.

Feel, not look. He couldn't say that Natasha's words didn't hurt a little.

Steve was his friend, or, used to be anyways.

But he should have snapped out of it. He should've helped him earlier. He should not have let himself get captured on the bridge when he first remembered.

Should have. Could have. Didn't.

That was what five hours alone with your own thoughts and regrets felt like. As if the sides of your head were both going in different directions, trying to find a logical explanation to not be guilty. To find someone else to blame. But he continued to sit and fight with himself, because inside the building behind him, the only man that actually knew him was struggling for his life.

"Natasha Romanoff please report to room K32," a doctor called over the loudspeaker hours later.

She shook her head and walked down the hall, psyching herself up for whatever news the doctor had.

She turned into the room, expecting to see Steve. In a bed, walking around somehow, just be somewhere in that room. But she was met with a doctor. Simply that.

"Where's Steve?" she asked, her voice cracking.

"Still in surgery. We are doing the best we can, but his wounds are very severe. However, the serum is affecting his healing rate in a positive way," the doctor stated.

"What are you saying? That Steve won't make it?" Natasha replied.

"I'm saying that the surgery is taking longer than expected. With his healing rate increased, things are healing over before we can completely fix them. We anticipate to be working through through the night."

"And?"

"We don't have a place for you here to stay. The chairs are uncomfortable, and given his record, we would like this to stay as low key as possible."

"So you're saying I shouldn't stay here tonight?" she questioned.

"I'm saying you can't. If people see the Black Widow in a hospital, they will know something is up. If you refuse to leave, I am sorry to say that you will have to be forcibly removed. Come back tomorrow morning and the surgery should be over," the doctor smiled.

"I can't leave him!"

"I'm sorry, you have to," the doctor said and left the room.

She couldn't leave him. Not in this state. But it was either stay and get kicked out or leave willingly.

For one of the first times in her life, Natasha left willingly.

When she got outside, Bucky was sitting on the sidewalk, deep in thought. He heard her footsteps and looked up

"How is he? That's all I want to know," he pleaded.

Natasha paused for a moment before answering. She wanted to invite him back to Steve's place, where she was sleeping for the night, but she couldn't trust him. Not that much. Not after what he did.

"He's still in surgery. Doctor said to come back in the morning."

"Alright. I'll find somewhere. Thank you," Bucky replied and smiled.

Natasha turned on her heel and walked towards the street, where she followed it down until she reached the apartment. Standing alone under the dim outside light, she took a deep breath before finding the key, turning the lock, and walking inside.

Sure, it was probably wrong to be in a person's house that she had barely met a week ago. But she had done worse things in her life. Getting into a house was the least of her crimes.

Her heart started to pump faster, her breathing becoming faster as well.

All of the memories. All of the people she killed. All the lives she ruined.

"Calm down. Calm down," she told herself quietly, taking shallow and steady breaths to calm herself. "It's in the past. In the past."

That was her problem. She was constantly haunted by her past, haunted by all of the red. Would it ever be washed away?

She shook her head as if to clear the memories away and grabbed a blanket from the side of the couch, laying down as she tried to fall asleep.

I hope you all liked it! I also figured out how to finally do the gray lines :). So hopefully it will be easier for you guys to see from the different perspectives. I will be posting more often over winter break because I will have the time. Happy holidays!