After a couple of minutes, a couple of bubbles emerged from the soup, Natasha gave it a stir, then put on another pot of water to boil for tea. Of course Bucky remembered her. He remembered everything, and she didn't know if that made things better or worse. Maybe it didn't matter. The apartment fell silent as Steve turned off the shower. Every so often she could hear him thumping about. He appeared a few minutes later, dressed in the thermals.
"Ready for dinner?" Natasha asked.
"Yeah, thanks."
"Sit down, Cap," Natasha said, gesturing towards the four mis-matched chairs at the card table. Steve hobbled over and sat down, trying to get a good look at Bucky. Natasha found a bowl and filled it with the noodle soup. She brought that over to the table, and pulled a plastic spoon out of the bag with the food supplies. "Eat up. You don't need me to patch you up at all?"
"I think I'm good," Steve said, giving the soup a stir and watching the steam rise, while Natasha made the three of them a cup of tea. "And Bucky?"
"He'll be right. We gotta eat first, and get you to bed."
"Nat…"
"Eat. Jeez, seeing you all cleaned up, you're a bit beat-up, Cap. Looking better without the blood, though."
"Thanks."
"No worries," Natasha smiled, sitting down with a bowl for herself. "Stark not so worried about those perfect pearly whites now, huh?"
Soon, Steve was sliding into the double bed. The sheets were cold, but there were three woollen blankets and a thick doona cover. It would warm up soon enough.
"Want me to tuck you in?" Natasha asked, leaning against the doorframe.
"I'll be right. You sure you're ok with Buck?"
"Course," Natasha lied, having no idea how she would go patching Bucky up.
"What do we do now?"
"You go to sleep, and I have everything fixed in the morning." She was such a good liar, she almost had herself convinced.
"Nat…"
"Steve, we'll discuss it later, ok? Get some sleep, you look like shit."
"I was just going to say that that soup wasn't all bad."
"It's an old recipe," Natasha replied, wondering when and where Bucky had learnt to make somewhat decent instant meals.
Steve snuggled into the bed. "Night, Nat."
"Night, Steve," she turned out the bedroom light, and guessed that Steve was asleep before she closed the door. "Now onto you, Sergeant Barnes."
"Do you even know where to start?" Bucky asked. He hadn't eaten anything, but Natasha forced him to have a cup of tea. She'd had two.
"No idea. The arm?"
Bucky had hardly moved since she'd dropped him onto the couch. She wondered if he could, or was just so well trained to sit still and do what he was told, that he didn't even realise he was doing it. "Do you know what you're doing?" Bucky asked.
Natasha gently unwrapped the blanket which sat around his shoulders and knelt down to look at the exposed wires sticking out of his shoulder. "I'm not an engineer," she said, "Or an electrician, and my buddies who might have some idea are are either in prison or we're not talking to them right now."
"Sorry."
"You don't get to apologise. Not for this." Natasha stood up and went over to her bags. She rummaged through the bag with the clothing and supplies, pulling out a pair of pliers and a small ring of yellow electrical tape. She also grabbed the head torch and put it on, as the main light wasn't great. "As a temporary fix, this'll have to do. Oh, and you're not bleeding internally or anything?"
"Think I'm ok."
"Ok," Natasha said, sitting down beside Bucky on the couch, and flicking on the torch light. "This might sting. Or it might not. Can't say I've taped up anyone's arm quite like this before."
Bucky leant against the armrest and Natasha pulled out one wire with the pliers. Bucky flinched, and Natasha wrapped the end of it up in the electrical tape, breaking the tape with her teeth. "This is, like, a seriously short-term fix, but it's the best idea I've got."
"It's'k," Bucky said, closing his eyes, "I don't have anything better."
"If you don't mind me asking," Natasha said, carefully pulling out a completely unattached and burnt piece of wire, "What the hell happened?"
"You want the long or the short version?"
"Since I have no idea how long this will take, so let's go long. You can always wrap it up."
Bucky took as deep a breath as he could manage. "So, start after Washington?"
"Whenever," Natasha said, taping another loose end. "We got all night."
It took a while, but eventually Natasha had wrapped the end of of the wires in tape, and had pulled the foreign object outs of the wound. Bucky's 'long version' wasn't particularly long, and he was finished before Natasha went and washed her hands and the pliers in the tiny kitchenette sink, not wanting to think about what was on them. Bucky had stuck to the facts; most of them she already knew. She couldn't deal with her emotions yet, she needed to finish patching Bucky up and get him off to sleep. This time they didn't talk, Natasha worked to clean, dress and bind his injuries as required, and Bucky worked to stay conscious for her.
Natasha cut the left arm off the other long-sleeve thermal top and helped Bucky into it, then into the thermal socks and pants, the same as Steve. Bucky tried to find a comfortable position lying down, and Natasha tucked the thermal blanket and another slightly musty old blanket around him.
"I…"
"Go to sleep," Natasha said, placing his drink bottle beside the couch.
"Thank-you," Bucky muttered.
Natasha nodded and turned off the light. She moved carefully and sat down on the armchair. Stark had gone to them. Olive branches had been exchanged. And then… she had known. Natasha had known that the Winter Soldier had killed Howard and Maria Stark. But Tony, so consumed with rage and vengeance, had tried to kill them both. There was no excuse for that. Natasha would hear Steve's story in the morning, but she had a feeling that Bucky wouldn't lie. He certainly didn't try to paint himself the hero, and had no reason to lie.
Natasha pulled her phone out of her pocket. It wasn't her usual phone, of course, she'd left that at the Compound. This was the cheapest, hardiest thing she could find in Duty Free. It could make and receive calls, send and receive text messages, and that was pretty much it. She had purchased a local SIM card at Moscow International, and had loaded it up with international minutes. Now she just needed someone to call.
Clint was her usual first option. When she needed to talk something out with someone who wasn't going to judge her, or panic, or crack the shits, or lecture her. She needed Clint and Clint was in prison.
Lawyers get people out of prison.
810 1 212 …
Natasha committed important phone numbers to memory. The beeping keys made Bucky stir.
"What's that?"
"I gotta call a friend. You're ok if I talk?"
"Yeah, just the beeping. I don't like that."
"I'll turn it off."
"M'k. 'Night."
"Goodnight," Natasha said, and turned the sound off before finishing dialling and pressing the green button to call. It didn't matter if Bucky was still awake and listened in. The phone rang. Natasha waited, and tried to figure out the timezone differences. She waited. She didn't want to leave a message. He couldn't be able to call her back on this number anyhow.
"Hello?"
"Hiya Matty. Long time no see. I've got some questions. You'd better start charging."