His heart racing the entire way had been drowned out by the adrenaline. It wasn't until he'd found them somewhere safe and gotten her proper medical supplies so he could tend to her that James emerged and felt the crushing blow of seeing Natalia so broken next to him.

His blue eyes swept over her, applying treatments with unknown skills. He'd taken care of her arm first, removing the tourniquet, which had been on nearly too long in his attempt to find somewhere adequately abandoned. Next, he'd slowed the bleeding to her arm and stitched the wound closed. Unfortunately, it broke open twice from his inexperience, and he had to redo it again the next day. Finally, he wrapped it in gauze to prevent infection and made sure to change it.

He had attended to the minor burns next. Natalia was lucky; the man had shielded her from most of the burns from the explosion. Her arms had been less fortunate, and he was careful to lower her into a cold bath before he attempted to remove her shirt and the sleeves of her tactical uniform.

He had thought the burns were worse when he first laid her down on the bed, but her sleeves took much of it. It did not cling to her skin or peel, and he was relieved to only find a few blisters around her wrists. He treated them with clean damp rags and the minimal amount of burn lotion in the first aid kits he'd gathered. Next, he treated the minor burns that had developed on her one leg where the impact tore her suit and the ones along her waistline. He suspected her leg had a deeper injury but he couldn't tell without her being conscious. As for the burns, her hands were the worst of it. So he wrapped both her hands and changed them methodically when she was unconscious.

The blood had cleaned away with a rag and patience, but he had grimaced as he ensured her broken nose was reset. She'd roused during that painful part only to pass out without real consciousness. Fortunately, he was adept at it, having reset his bones many times mid-mission. He taped her nose with some of the bandages and was sure it was a clean, small break. She'd hit her head, there was redness and a little bruising around the back of her head. There was no visible swelling, but he couldn't tell more yet.

The real problem was the leg injury. When she'd stirred she'd been unable to move it and he'd found it was broken. Setting it this much later wasn't good, but he'd done what he could and had to wait for the rest. She, of course, had bruises that developed over the next few days, but he grew suspicious of how effectively her body was handling it. Not as quickly as his own... no... but not as slowly as the girls did. The thought was tucked away for later. He simply stayed with her, watching her condition, taking her pulse when he could and making sure it maintained steadily, attending to new issues that arose the more she got along.

If she didn't wake soon, he would be forced to move her... he perhaps should have already. If it was a head injury, time would only make her chances slim but her other injuries needed time to heal and her pulse seemed steady... and so he would give it only one more day and night. If she did not wake, he'd be forced to take her elsewhere for medical attention, not field treatments. There was a question that haunted his consciousness.

James scowled suddenly and rose from the chair beside her swiftly as he felt a wave of nausea hit him. His consistent treatments and worry did little to curb the Winter Soldier's incessant need to leave here. To report to his handlers. To secure mission completion and that line of thought of leaving made it rise too quickly in him.

He walked from the room and entwined his fingers around each other on the back of his head. He let out a heavy breath and cursed in English. He just needed to walk it off, and he did to secure the building. James did his best to think of why moving Natalia was a terrible idea so he wouldn't feel the need to respond to the mental twitch to march out the door and find the nearest source of communication. To relay their location and await extraction or mission orders. He just needed to work through it because James wasn't convinced that was the best thing for Natalia in such a weakened state… he wasn't sure them coming to get the two of them was a good idea in her state…

It was from very far that she felt someone lifting something heavy from her body and just for a moment, it took the pressure off her chest and the broken ribs. It helped her breathing and a very silent groan left her lips before complete blackness enveloped her again.

On their way, Natalia started burning with a fever. Her body clearly tried to compensate for the sudden burnings and wounds. Her right side had been injured worse than the left one. The body of the man had shielded her from the worst injuries. Yet her right side had been more exposed to the explosion than her left.

The first time she had woken up from her unconscious state had been as he stitched her pierced arm. She looked dazed around and couldn't see anything but a dark shadow of a man. She thought this to be the Red Room. The only thing missing was the chair…

Romanova woke from the heat that she was feeling and the lack of oxygen. Her lung was filling with blood and threatened to drown her. She coughed up most of the blood and eventually fell unconscious again. After this incident, and her ribs being tended to by someone, it seemed like her lungs slowly healed as her breathing improved.

Once he lowered her into the cold water, her fever seemed to slowly disappear. Some of the burnt areas turned into her usual skin color, but her lips slowly turned blue, indicating that her body temperature was dropping.

Some hours later, she woke up. Her gaze was dull and she didn't recognize the Winter Soldier or the room she was in. She felt the mattress of the bed underneath her. Her head felt like it was split into two halves. Yet it felt different to her usual headaches. Like this one was actually caused by a wound. She wasn't really able to explain the difference. Her body temperature had dropped to a steady one while her body seemed to slowly heal. It was an ongoing process because the minor burns seemed to have disappeared within days without leaving scars.

She spotted the dark shadow again and mumbled, "Winter..."

It wasn't logical, but she called out for the shadow before slumping back into the numb blackness.

His vest, tactical gear, what was left of Natalia's uniform and all their weapons but one gun were set across the room on the dresser. Easy access for either of them and James kept one of his guns slipped into the back of the belt of his stolen pants. It was two rounds short of a full magazine but sufficient. Natalia's handgun was within easy reach for him if he needed it.

James was now dressed in plain but warm clothes from where they'd been hidden away in the back drawers. He'd tied his hair back to keep it out of his way when he tended to her wounds. Natalia's clothes were a little big for her but much more suiting than her torn and bloody uniform. Although he'd thrown it into the tub to see if it could be cleaned. It had worked for the most part but was still very wet.

The heating was crude in the abandoned building with its lack of power. The wood stove he only would use if they absolutely needed it, if Natalia's condition required it. Otherwise, it might give their location away to a passing local. There could be few around here even if he hadn't seen anyone.

At one point, as he sat near her, she had stirred. She did a few times lately, but only in response to pain or a medical issue. This time, she seemed to look around through glazed eyes. He sat forward, hopeful she may perhaps regain consciousness now. It had been some time... and instead, he was rewarded with something better. Her nickname for him.

"I'm here, Natalia," James urged in a sudden breath as he leaned in over her. He reached down to touch her arm near her elbow so it wouldn't produce pain, but she'd already slipped away again.

He watched her hesitantly to see if she'd regain consciousness, but she did not. James sighed but still couldn't help the elated feeling that swept through his tired body. It was good to hear her say that instead of Soldat. Of course, it was not James, but it was nearly as good; it was proof that Natalia was there as he'd suspected. She simply was beneath the surface. It helped wrestle his own mind more under his control, as well.

Her gaze was clearer and more focused the next time she woke up. Her body still felt like it was burning, but she could put it back in her mind. Her pain tolerance had risen since they started experimenting on her body. It almost seemed tolerable compared to the pain inflicted by that blue liquid. However, the memory brought another kind of pain. Her whole body flinched in pain as the fire spread through her veins again.

Her body protested, but she sat up and took in her surroundings. Suddenly her vision went black, and she almost slumped back into the pillow. Romanova managed to stay conscious and slowly took in her surroundings.

The room was empty - no, that was not correct, a man stood with his back to her. Perhaps he had brought her to this room. It was dark and the room looked like it hadn't been used for quite some time. Dust was lying thick on the furniture that hadn't been touched by the man or moved.

She tried to sit upright, but it caused her breathing to rattle and she placed her hand on her ribcage in pain. It was when she saw that her hands and arm had been bandaged. She tried to remember, but there was nothing that would indicate what had happened to her.

Suddenly she felt the irrational urge to get some fresh air and… and check that she wasn't cuffed to the bed.

The room seemed so small. Romanova moved her legs from the bed and placed her feet on the dirty wooden panel. The room smelled decayed, like the one at the Red Room. But the wet feel to her feet was missing. She forced herself to her feet, and a sharp pain rose in her left leg. It showed her that her bone was broken, but she forced herself to step towards the window.

Just a few more steps… but Natalia fell as her body gave up beneath her. She groaned in pain as the fixed broken bone of her left leg shifted again into an unnatural angle.

James reached up to rub a hand over his eyes, his shoulder leaning against the bedroom doorway leading out into the only other room in the cabin. He was nearing the time he would require a short nap again. In the last four days they'd been here, he had hardly slept. He found that after he came down off the extended adrenaline of the mission and Natalia's worsening conditions, he was exhausted.

He was not used to exhaustion; his stamina could stretch for days before he felt weary. The worry for Natalia had drained him quickly. It was then that he realized it was necessary. The nagging feeling drawing him back to report was dimmer, almost quiet. So he realized that he could use this exhaustion. He needed to keep himself tired out, so his brain would be just tired and slow enough for him to maintain control over himself.

The further he could stretch himself, the less his mind was able to function on his mission. It wasn't complete or a foolproof method by any means, but it took the edge off it. It was the most he could do in his situation, but he would need to rest for an hour or so to maintain enough energy for his body to function.

He turned sharply as he suddenly heard the mattress. James watched her swiftly rise to her feet, but before he could take a step her way or speak to still her, she was walking. She quickly crumpled to the floor. He leapt to her side and knelt down in a rush by her.

"Natalia," He admonished, slightly scolding her for moving. Unfortunately, she was far too injured and he realized the set to her leg had been undone. He grimaced and checked the rest of her over. He was surprised she did not cry out in pain; he was sure anyone else would have. That worried him until she groaned lowly.

He sighed heavily and shifted to scoop her into his arms. He tucked her against his chest, metal hand holding her leg just above the knee firmly in place as he moved her. "I am afraid you can't move yet, dollface." James said sympathetically. The American endearment in Russian was translated oddly, but his mind needed help recognising the differences or that it wasn't correct for his vocabulary.

James set her back down on the bed and looked over the injury. "If I go get the supplies are you going to move again?" He asked her with a tilt of his head.

She looked up, hearing that name. Her brain registered her surroundings and own pain more slowly than it should. So it took her a moment to realize he had meant her and not another girl in the room. There was none, so he obviously spoke to her. The room spun around her and she shook her head, trying to get things straight. It felt like her stomach turned and Natalia paled even more but she managed to keep the food inside. Perhaps that only happened thanks to the lack of food.

He pulled her up, and it felt like the room was spinning around her. She needed to wrap her arms around him to reassure her that it didn't really happen. Instead, her senses sent her brain other stimulation from what was happening. Romanova didn't even realize his endearment towards her but tried to squirm away. Unfortunately, her body was too injured and weak to actually be able to move away from him.

She still needed air. Fresh air. Just something to show herself that she wasn't held captive. The need felt so irrational, but something deep inside her was almost screaming in fear.

Again he asked her something and she looked at him with a dazed, almost fevered gaze. Romanova had no idea what kind of supplies he was talking about or how she ended up there. To her, it felt like she was back in some type of basement of the Red Room Academy and they punished her for doing something that she had no influence in. Like speaking the truth, but they didn't like that her to say the truth.

"I... Air-" she rasped and almost looked pleadingly at him. She tried to clear her dry throat and tried talking again. "Please... I need air!"

Natalia pleaded so much it sounded like whining and looked at him, hoping he would move her to the window instead of the bed. Romanova wouldn't even mind being moved again, even though it would make her body flinch in pain. It became rather apparent that she wouldn't be able to move on her own, or else she would've moved away from him.

She said she needed air, her voice rasping badly. He dropped quickly into a crouch to check her chest, worry taking over again, but while a little erratic, her lungs seemed to inflate and deflate just fine... James frowned as he took his hand off her chest and then looked down at her throat. He didn't see any other or new bruises there, and again, she seemed to be able to breathe...

Natalia cleared her throat and James was starting to catch on as she looked at him desperately. The wrong kind, the kind he knew, came from a place of being completely trapped and under no control. Again, James just wasn't used to her being the one looking like that. James looked over with a frown to the window and then back to her leg. His face messed up as he looked at it and shook his head wordlessly.

He... really couldn't move her. He understood, but the way she looked at him pierced him. It seemed like he denied the girl water in a desert. James contemplated moving her, leaning down over her leg to inspect it again. But it just... was no good. She'd have no leg if he pushed her. It wouldn't be worth the sanity, then.

James sighed and stood up to tell her he couldn't help when an idea sprung. He crouched back down to check and then back up. "Fine, but I mean it, don't move your legs, Natalia," James ordered and walked to the end of the bed. He grabbed the posts and simply dragged her and the bed, so her head lined up close to the window. Then he leaned over her and fought the old window open for her.

Clearly, he didn't understand what she meant. Perhaps he did and she was voicing it wrong. Her ribcage hurt with each breath she took, but that wasn't the cause behind her asking desperately for air.

He shook his head and she looked away, trying not to show weakness. Weakness meant more pain and punishment. She placed her injured hand underneath her chest and tried breathing against it, but it was becoming harder and harder for her. It seemed like her brain was shutting down and she rubbed her temples. The pain running down her wrist from the bandage and her injured head was enough to keep her sane, even though he denied her something so simple. It was okay - they always did that.

She didn't even seem to realize that he looked over her leg until he pulled on the bed. Her gaze turned to him and a small smile appeared on her lips. She nodded dutifully and leaned against the wooden wall. Cold air rushed over her and she took deep breaths. It was almost like she magically seemed to get better. Some color returned to her skin and she didn't look as haunted anymore.

"Thank you," she told him in English. Deep down, she knew he would prefer that language over Russian even though he used it for her.

Eventually, she leaned her injured head against the wall. She flinched as her head made contact with the wall, but she did as ordered. Romanova sat still, almost stiff against the wall. The cold air whipped into her face and it helped her. She looked at him as she seemed to wake up.

"What supplies were you talking about?"

He nodded stiffly as she thanked him, still unsure what to do with it. Her smile softened him and the pressure that action caused in his mind. James pushed it away and put half his focus on what he chose to. It was nice that she was finally awake, but he could only enjoy it momentarily with her leg the way it was. It needed to be reset.

He backed up towards the door when she spoke. Her voice stilled him, and he looked over his shoulder at her.

"Medical ones," He explained. Then he ducked out of the doorway and gathered them from the small bathroom where he hoped to keep them as sterile as possible in the dirty house.

He returned briefly with them in his arms and a moderately thick stick from the kindle and a bottle of liquor he found in the cabinet when he searched for food rations.

"We must reset your leg again, Natalia," He said and held the stick out to her to take. He set the supplies he'd need next to her on the bed. "You're probably going to pass out."

Romanova looked after him and tried not to sigh. Then she looked at her bandaged hands before carefully feeling the back of her head as much as possible through the bandages. She flinched a little, but nothing indicated what she had done except for some light red spots on the clean application as he returned.

She looked quietly at his supplies and wondered where he had gotten everything. She looked back at him and braced herself for the pain.

"Can I have a sip first?" she asked and pointed at the liquor bottle. He mentioned her leg and she nodded grimly. Her gaze focused. "On the count of three and I'm ready."

He handed her the stick and she looked at it. Romanova waited for him to move before she would bite on it to remain from screaming in pain. After that, it would just be a matter of focus. Of course, moving the bone back into place would be painful, but the Winter Soldier had no idea how bitter that blue liquid had been. Sometimes she wondered if that had all been a fantasy; she had dreamed during a fever as those memories were hidden and came back during sleep.

He saw her checking herself out and decided to list her injuries that he had noted. One so she knew, it felt better when you knew... it felt like some semblance of control. Two so she could inform him of anything else he hadn't found. He glanced between her and the bottle at her request. Hm.

"A good idea," He nodded and handed her the bottle. "I'd take more than just one," He said, chuckling just a bit. He had no painkillers, but it might take the edge off the pain when he had to reset it. She said to count and he made sure she had the stick so she could bite down on it so her tongue wouldn't get in the way. Before he started, he poured the liquor on her open wound to do his best against infection.

He did it as quickly as he could, cringing inwardly, but he kept his hands steady. He could practically hear it get back into place. By some miracle, it clicked back correctly and he quickly poured more alcohol before he set it on the window sill for Natalia's use.

Eventually, he stopped the blood flow and needed to clean the wound. "The swelling will need to go down before the skin can be stitched properly." He told her, looking over her worriedly to see how she was taking things. Surprisingly, she had not passed out. Why she hadn't was another dark thought that passed across his mind.

Romanova hadn't intended to simply take a gulp but more. She closed her eyes and after mumbling, "Na sdorowje."

The young woman took some big gulps before giving it back to him. The liquor burned in her throat, but apart from that, she didn't seem much fazed by it. Her Russian genes or something else made her stomach take the alcohol like it was pure water.

Her eyes were set on her leg as he pulled. Then, almost indifferently, she watched him work. She flinched in pain but bit hard down on the stick. Once the bone was back in place, it felt like some pain was relieved from her leg. She reached for the bottle, took some more gulps, and slowly some kind of buzz seemed to set in. It made her relax and instead of fear, she looked curiously at the Winter soldier. She wasn't sure why he helped her, but she seemed to relax a bit.

"Well, it better not leave a scar, Doc," she tried herself with a joke and it seemed like there was a glimpse of Natalia, not the Black Widow. A lopsided grin appeared as she glanced at the man in front of her.

Her health was poor, but it was a good thing to drink. James cleaned it again, and his shoulders relaxed as the bleeding slowed. Now, if they could keep the rags cold for a while, he'd be able to sew it up. There was constant pressure on her leg, but he needed to wait.

It was the pain, booze, or simply the knock to her head... but he glanced up to see neither pain nor her fear. Instead, it was Natalia's familiar questioning gaze directed at him. It made things feel nearly normal between them in nothing but the silence. The look in her eye was unmistakable and made him think of her red note- 'question!'

Her joke made an intense grin pull across his cheeks. His eyes glanced up at her as he paused to inspect her leg momentarily.

"Do.." He stopped realizing she hadn't spoken Russian and with half his focus discarded, he hadn't thought to talk otherwise. "Do not hold your breath on my medical skill." He warned playfully, still smiling at her. "I can patch you up, simple field experience, but..." He trailed off, something slamming in his head that was wrong. It wasn't the field that he learned to patch things up... although he did for... for somebody. He cleared his throat. "Anything else is far too complicated."

He finished and shook the memory, not interested in it, with Natalia beside him. Her grin was infectious still and he returned from its momentary hiatus. James looked at her affectionately, happy for the moment she was awake and cognitive. Maybe like him at the moment, not mental enough for their forgotten selves to peek out. Mainly he was just relieved she was awake and didn't seem to have suffered any real head injuries.

She visibly relaxed more as her joke brought a smile to his lips. She had feared for the opposite, but he wasn't as stoic and severe as he appeared to be. By the way that she was knocking off the booze, Romanova was sure that she wouldn't know anything about it anymore. In fact, somehow, she was acting on instincts here instead of how she thought it was best. It seemed to work as he grinned at her, even taking his eyes off her wound.

"Well, as long as you don't- she began in Russian but continued in English mid-sentence, "-make me pay for half finished business." She grinned back at him and even laughed; But laughing made her flinch as her ribcage started hurting and she stopped doing so and placed her hand where it hurt. Still, she kept smiling as she felt that it was helping him more than it helped her. It was the least she could do.

"Guess I can be lucky that you patched me up at least as far as you were able to," she spoke, sensing he preferred English.

The way he looked at her made her wonder what was going on. His gaze said so many things and made her wonder why it was directed towards her this way. She didn't know anything about him - only the necessary things. So why did he always act like there was more? But Romanova knew better than to pry. Being curious brought pain and she was in too much pain to handle anymore. She might be able to act like it didn't hurt, but it did. It hurt like hell.

He chuckled shortly. Yes, because they certainly had a system in place for payment. He didn't even care what Natalia said as her joke; James simply listened to the sound of her laugh and the way it transformed her face. Her cheeks lifted and her green eyes seemed more vibrant to him. She was indeed an angel, with her fiery hair framing her face. Pain leaked in, but Natalia... stubborn as ever, wouldn't let it show completely. Nor transform her face. Nothing could genuinely take her. James smiled again, more to himself and went back to her wound.

"You don't need luck for that, Natalia," He told her. His help, when he could control it, would always be given resolutely. James finally removed the rag to inspect the wound and retrieve her bottle again as a precaution. He poured it over the angry wound and made sure to put the makeshift ice pack over the rag. "What you do need is rest," He told her, leaving his hand over the ice pack to keep it lightly in place without applying too much pressure.

Romanova stayed quiet for a moment. Her face became more serious as the ease between them disappeared. The Soldier was wrong and it brought a headache. The man was never wrong, but here he was being incorrect. She was lucky. The mission didn't require him to patch her up. It was her fault the mission had blown up in her face. It was ruined the moment things exploded. She had no idea what had happened since she fell backwards and the man crashed or shielded her, depending on how one took it.

Again he was wrong. What Romanova needed... what they needed to do was respond to their handlers, but he had ordered her to stay still - not to move her legs. So instead, she brought the palm of her hand up and pressed it against her temple. The inflicting pain from her wounds helped override the ones coming from her head. It was two different commands; her brain was fighting over which one to listen to.

She leaned against the wall again, allowing the cold air to rush over her. Suddenly it didn't feel good anymore, but cold. She started shivering a little.

"Where are we?" she suddenly asked and looked out of the window. The information would mostly stay the same; she couldn't move anything. Her gaze went to the man treating her wounds and she spoke up " How much time for resting?"

It didn't matter, but at least she would know how much time she had away from the Red Room. Surely their handlers would come to retrieve them eventually.

He watched out of the corner of his eyes as she struggled again. He nearly sighed. James had felt like they had made progress of some sort. He had. Her pain, he reminded himself, did not mean it was gone. Perhaps he simply wasn't as good at it as Natalia had been. That should be an obvious statement.

Her questions struck too close to the voice constant in the back of his mind. James closed his eyes then, fighting the will of the Soldier. He opened them when he felt more in control and returned his attention to her wound; the actions helped.

How much time? He had to gauge how to answer that question. Honesty would either relieve her or set her off. James struggled with the decision but looked down at her leg. Well, it wasn't like she could very well go anywhere.

"We've gone dark," He told her, working for the English. But, unfortunately, the Russian lent itself too quickly to the Winter Soldier's deadly focus. "It is our discretion." Who would have ever thought he would say those words and have them be true? Unfortunately, the other half fought him with such an open-ended statement against a compelling mission or extraction. Hard, yes, but looking at Natalia again made it more accessible.

Natalia watched him and outstretched her bandaged hand, placing it gently on the side of his head. It almost seemed like he was fighting the same inner battle she did, but that was impossible. Then again, she recalled him darkly mentioning that the Winter Soldier knew the chair that inflicted so much pain. Did he really understand? That's something Romanova never would know for sure, but it did seem like that. At least to some extent.

The Black Widow listened and nodded grim. She pulled her hand back and looked out of the window. It was like someone was screaming at her to make him go and run while he could.

To get out of Russia and lay low for a while. To leave her behind to her own destiny and run for his life.

Suddenly she felt the urge to fight that voice. It wasn't rational and it would compromise their mission. Yet it had already been compromised. They- she hadn't been effective and caused an explosion. "Okay," she simply answered, afraid that more would follow. Such a deadly statement would inflict so much pain from the scientists of the Red Room.

"Are you hurt?" she suddenly asked, trying to pry her thoughts away from the statement. She looked him up and down and he seemed healthy. Perhaps his clothes were hiding wounds. She shook her head lightly, physically forcing herself to focus and her curls bounced lightly at the motion. He wore different clothes and wore his beautiful hair up. She decided she didn't like that she preferred his hair down. She looked down at herself, noticing that she also wore different clothes. The thought of him changing her clothes brought a light blush to her cheek.

He scolded himself; he was supposed to be helping her now. Yet he remained silent and leaned his head just enough into her hand there. It calmed him slowly, and the pounding of orders dimmed again. It simply faded. He looked at her more intently as she took her hand away, feeling the loss again... only to try and shift it into his old determination.

She shifted to Russian, the only giveaway to him that she was less there. It seemed like Natalia would do something as unnecessary as worry over his injuries. She had many times. It made him smile.

"Nothing important," He told her, stubbornly sticking to the English as she might. Above, his shoulder hurt, close to the mottled skin that bled into his metal shoulder. A muscle or ligament had torn with the impact the vehicle made, the arm was not damaged, but it'd been going faster than he'd anticipated. It was likely already healing, and he ignored these things as he usually did. It was not debilitating.

Natalia shook her head suddenly, and he was sure she must be in pain from something. Mentally, she was going to be physically in pain for the better part of weeks... if she was healing faster, otherwise much longer. Weeks, he thought... the fact that Natalia was immobile had kept him half sane. She was, as usual, the only strong enough hold over James to push his mission away. It was a gamble... could he keep control over himself that long?

Yes... and how many other situations would lend themselves weeks? Lend him weeks to break her conditioning enough... enough where she could do as he did and not have it all taken away completely. He needed time to give her control if that was necessary... and he felt he had time now.

"Are you struggling?" He asked her, looking at her again. He was careful in the wording of his prying so it did not seem similar to an interrogation that would only send her further back from progress. Just asking might, though... he tried to think of what she had done, and he realized she'd just done it then, too. He moved forward on her bed to sit near her torso, careful not to touch her and bother her injured side.

"This helps," He told her, reaching out with his flesh and blood hand to lightly touch her temples. He quickly copied Natalia's motions long ago when she'd decided a massage would help his headache. It hadn't; it had tensed him, the touch where he was only used to pain from... but in the end, she'd simply made it, so he did not only expect the wrong things there. Her light massaging had helped him that day; he could only try with Natalia.

Natalia first focused back on the Soldier as he spoke. She looked confused at him. Struggling with what exactly. He moved closer to her, sitting near her. It made her sit even more still, almost statuesque. Obviously, she was unsure of what to do. She tried her best not to appear fearful, but her heart was beating hard and fast against her ribs. This wasn't normal and he shouldn't move so close. He moved his hand and she relaxed ever so lightly as she realized he didn't move his metal hand.

Once his skin touched her temple, she stilled again, sitting unnaturally upright. The only thing that kept her from moving away was his order to stay seated and not move. Not even the constant pain would make her sit down but move away. She awaited a punch or slap that never came. It took her several seconds up to a few minutes to finally relax and close her eyes, realizing he wouldn't hurt her like so many others. It stopped the aching pain and replaced it with a light buzzing headache. She sighed a little and leaned her hand into his touch like he had done moments ago.

"How… how do you know this?" She eventually asked and opened her eyes to look at him. Her gaze seemed more focused again and less troubled. Her earlier urge to tell him to leave had subsided and was forgotten again.

He watched as she stiffened, part of him had still hoped it might not have been as terrible for her as he vaguely remembered or knew in detail at other times. It didn't seem to be the case, though. At least... in it being the same, it seemed to work for her as well. As long as she grew to not expect these things with him, as long as it would help her regain herself. Her words reassured him as well.

"Because it helps me," He told her softly, pleased with her English. He emphasized the present tense. Because it was not only in the past. As was proof in her simplest of touches not more than a moment ago, Natalia's soft touch still helped him. He looked into her green eyes, smiling gently.

He wanted to tell her that it was her, to give her the credit she should know but he held back; James knew it would only confuse her. It would only make her shut down.

"How do you do that?"

He'd asked her a similar question not long ago.

"Do what?" She'd responded so softly.

"Make me lose focus," He'd told her.

She simply told him it was a good thing. It hadn't been a good thing; it had been the most alive he'd ever felt. There with her then. For now, she would simply have to know that they were on the same level, that he was not... well, that part of him, the him here now, was not part of them. Those that created the pain or worked for them. He would never hurt her.

Romanova looked at him, trying to find the wrong thing in his statement. But it seemed like he was telling the truth. She remembered something that seemed like it had happened years ago. But, unfortunately, she wasn't even sure if it had really happened. It was almost like she had met him in a dream.

"I understand all of it. Now rest while you can," The Winter Soldier told her, schooling his voice soft and patient again while he stood back up to his full height.

She had met him in the gym or in a random room. Natalia wasn't sure. It confused her, but still, she mumbled, repeating his words as it would make his statement more accurate like it made her believe that he wanted to help her instead of what all the other people did when she failed them.

"I understand all of it..." she mumbled in Russian. Her mother tongue seemed to help her relax and register things more quickly than when he used English. It had been instilled in her that Russian was used unless ordered otherwise or for the mission's success. The redhead looked back into his blue eyes before hurriedly looking away, showing the submissiveness that was asked for in the Red Room.

At this moment, the two separate sets of information were tiring her. Her brain tried to fight whatever information he was giving her. He was terrible, like everyone else involved with the Red Room. But he had brought her here instead of leaving her to her fate. She had failed the mission and, therefore, would've deserved torture and eventually death. But he had taken her here.

"Why do you help me?" she asked - the words rolling from her tongue faster than she could stop them. Again she had switched to English without even realizing it.

He nodded to her, although he didn't understand what she meant by her words. She seemed lost in her mind, her eyes unfocused and staring elsewhere. She looked at him finally and James returned her gaze neutrally. She glanced away too quickly, and he wished he was better at knowing what was happening in her mind. Perhaps he didn't need to know, but it felt like it would help if he could. Things were not so simple; he was lucky enough to recognize the things so similar to him. That he had the will to do so now. Thanks to her.

Which was what made him wonder what the hell he should say to her. What was the answer he should give her? His mind paused, and he drew blanks. Nothing he said would... be sufficient. He didn't want to lie, and any lie wouldn't be enough anyway. He could say it was the right thing to do... but that answer didn't feel right. It didn't feel realistic coming from him. As he'd explained to her once, he didn't perceive things as right or wrong... which lent itself to the obvious answer of what he was.

He couldn't tell her the truth, though. That she meant so much to him, he couldn't tell her why. All that would just confuse her too much. It would overload her and he didn't want to push her back into that state she'd been in either. Telling only helped so much; it took really remembering. Which he hoped to facilitate. Finally, he looked at her and the answer suddenly seemed simple.

"Because I want to." He felt satisfied with his answer. It was true, but it didn't go into harmful details. He wanted to help her more than he'd ever wanted to do something. It was precisely like Natalia; he wanted her and her to be helped. He knew she likely wouldn't simply take that answer, though, so he sat up straighter and elaborated.

"We are the same, Natalia, you and I," He explained. Their situations, at least. Again, it would be too complicated to admit that she was so much more than he was. That he could save for later. Hopefully, that would let her draw her own conclusions.

He took his time answering and she was almost lost in her own thoughts again. Only almost, her gaze flicked to him as she heard his voice.

Because I want to.

It repeated over and over again inside her brain and it somehow felt right. She had no idea why it felt right, but it made her smile. Something deep down inside her seemed so pleased with itself and happy over his statement. That part made her smile, almost thankful and she looked into his blue eyes.

"No, we are not. You are better," she disagreed even though it felt like he had told her something familiar before. Opposing so lightly almost made her jump, but she saw the dead dark-haired woman in front of her inner eye. A sister she had killed even though she wasn't her sister. He wouldn't kill his family, she was sure. However, he currently proved to be better than that.

One thing she learned was that disagreeing wasn't good but had to be punished. She awaited his metal hand to wrap around her neck and eyed it suspiciously, Then her head started pounding lightly again. Unfortunately, the disagreement and her lost memory made her head pound even worse than before and she groaned in pain.

Almost automatically, she leaned more into his touch and tried to concentrate on his flesh hand and its touch. It helped. It didn't take the pain completely, but it was only a faint throbbing. "It does help-" she mumbled, surprised and looked up at him. Somehow she was glad he had shown her that, even though she was sure that something in his touch made it go away a little like magic.

James snorted and found his own reaction odd. Well, odd enough. That was somewhat ridiculous to him. Natalia had literally no idea how wrong she was. Curiously, he asked "What makes you think that?" He said and leaned his head to the side with a soft smile.

He saw her gaze switch and stay fixated on his metal arm and her face twisted soon and grew in pain. James sighed, but he could not blame her thoughts.

...'Hydra's fist..' He grimaced slightly at the accented voice, the one that made rage slither into his chest, again in his head and shook the memory away before it could distract him. She needed James' focus, not anything else. Soon Natalia leaned into his hand again, complied, and so he moved his fingers wider over her temple.

One side of his lips tugged into half a smile as she told him it worked. It was cute, the way she declared it.

"Good," He responded; he felt he should say more while she was reacting so well... but his body was starting to shut down a little. He'd need to rest soon, but sitting here and talking to her felt good. Too good to waste.

Romanova looked at him as he asked why she thought that way. The young woman looked out of the window, biting her lower lip. He still was being unreasonably lovely to her, so it simply made no sense that he thought of himself as an evil person. Plus, he seemed to be fond of her for unknown reasons.

"I killed my sister," she whispered, not even knowing if it was actually true. Natalia knew she had killed the dark-haired woman from the picture and felt grief. She felt so much pain after seeing her image during the debriefings.

He smiled at her, but Natalia didn't feel like that was from happiness, but was somehow melancholic. Another cold breeze made her shake in both self-disgust and coldness. The woman always brought both terrible headaches and sadness. Obviously, she should have meant something to her, but she had forgotten. It also came with a feeling that she had lost something more significant. Something she would never receive again. Someone to care for… stay with till the day she died.

She watched him as they sat there, as he slowly slumped more and more.

"Sleep... I won't move," she told him. He seemed tired even though he did a good job covering up. Some side of her knew how to read his body language.

"It was not done by your choice, if that helps," He explained, seeing the painful conflict in her eyes. That was the only solace for her. It was not in their power to say no; they were assets of the state. For her, it weighed on her, he remembered... in the theater, she had asked him if he ever felt guilt over a mission. He'd told her no and she'd asked to not speak of it. Perhaps this was the thing. Another girl in the Red Room? It happened often enough, sometimes by his hand. If he remembered properly anyway… it came to him in odd jumbles.

There had been the cold in between... and it blurred many details for him. Perhaps that was why he was so unlike her in that way. He didn't know why it felt like different times... but he simply didn't connect to some of those blurs. It had never effected the efficiency of his work, and so he had never been bothered by it when he wasn't with her. The Soldier was doing what was expected. It was what felt right, except... some part of him suddenly... moved. Tightened, and he didn't understand where it came from or what the feeling meant. His head was aching to figure it out; perhaps it was the files... like when he'd nearly... nearly killed Gabe...

Gabe?

Who was Gabe again? Without the concrete fact of the files, his head blurred it into a mesh of half facts.

He moved his hand from her head and stretched across her to close the window. Hopefully, it would not bother her, but he could see goosebumps running along her arms. Natalia would have to live without the fresh air for now. Hopefully, her bed near the window would be enough control over the situation for her.

"Sleep would be a waste..." He said fondly, but his lids were very heavy. His body was demanding that he rest. It was tough to ignore when his body was so relaxed being next to her. The mix of exhaustion and Natalia had nearly eliminated the war within his mind.

"It's only your leg you can't move," He muttered drowsily. "It will refract."

James was sure it was apparent to her anyways, but he didn't want her to get the idea he wanted her staying put for any other reason. He gave her a last look before he looked down at his watch and set a timer on it for two hours.

That would be enough rest to function without becoming too rested and risking his behavior changing.

He looked at her one last time. "If you need anything..." He trailed off and managed a smile before he stood up from the bed and walked to the dresser. James folded the under armor of his vest, set it on the floor next to Natalia's bed, and sat down to settle in and get his rest.

The Winter Soldier tried to comfort her, but it didn't matter. Past was past and she would forget about the girl again. Natalia always forgot the girl's face, it came and left like a reminder of something when her brain tried to get comfortable away from the headache. She wasn't sure what it meant, but she felt guilty and saw the blood everywhere after pulling the trigger. In that one detail, she was certain: Romanova had killed the Black Widow.

She watched him suddenly stir. It was almost like he didn't believe his own words. Romanova couldn't give him comfort or solace even though a small part of her wanted to return it to him. It wasn't like his statement helped, but it was enough for her to want him to feel better, but there was nothing she'd be able to do.

"No, it's not... Sleep helps-" she whispered, almost gently and gave him a reassuring smile. Suddenly she knew how to behave to make him get some rest. Torturing oneself with the lack of sleep wouldn't help both of them. So her hand almost naturally went up again and cupped his cheek. "It will help, I promise..." she told him with the same gentle voice even though she wasn't too sure what would help.

To her own surprise, his closing the window hadn't bothered her. The knowledge that despite her injuries, she wasn't really held captive and could watch the bit of landscape kept her sane and almost peaceful. Little did she know that it was really the man next to her.

Natalia watched him settle in for some rest. "Good Night...", she whispered reluctantly, and almost inaudible, "...Winter..." Romanova wasn't sure where the urge to say that name had come from. But she gave up fighting it and simply accepted saying the season.

Her soft caress had helped the decision; it made his body inexplicably calm even more. James probably couldn't have stayed awake in that moment even if he wanted to.

His eyes slipped close to revel in having her touch again. It had only encouraged him more. James couldn't help it; the simplest of touches from her made him feel so much. He was so unused to the warmth in the world that she gave off naturally, even when she was pushed through punishments. Having it and then not had been so glaring to him.

With her so close, and in his thoughts, it didn't take long to slip off.