The lull of her voice and the exhaustion let him slip right away into a deep sleep. His watch went off at two hours, with a steady click, and he had fallen into such an unusual lack of sleep he didn't even dream. The click half woke him, but his body didn't come out of sleep right away. It just drew him out of his deeper sleep cycle. His confused, disorganized subconscious ran wild, the memories of James Barnes, of Bucky, surging forward when his conditioning wasn't in play. With the facts in the files slipping more and more out of him, of who he was.

His breath came heavily as he tried to quietly pull at the thick cuffs that had him tied to the table in isolation. This was a perfect time... if he could get out of these damned things, he had the best vantage point to free the others. Of course, it was lunacy... all this, his troop had already been starving along with him, wasted away until they got captured and brought here.

For some sort of torture, he didn't know what or why just that this guy was fucking crumb bums. They wouldn't expect somebody to get out of their isolation ward, especially with how that German-Swedish, whatever, clearly the lead scientists thought it wasn't possible when he left Bucky alone more times than not.

He shook his wrists again, trying to get a little leeway. If he could just slip his wrists enough... but twenty minutes later, all he got for it were bruised wrists. Finally, Bucky let out an even breath, eyes darting around determinedly for something he could use. Something... something! There had to be something in this dump. Some way to get out of it; he wasn't going to die here, dammit! He didn't join the war just to die in some Nazi torture division!

"I'm not dyin' here," He muttered in his sleep, a strong Brooklyn accent present.

Bucky gave a last, frustrated jerk to the binds when he paused, hearing the clatter of footsteps down a corridor. German hit his ears, and Lord, did he wish he could speak the language at least a little. His eyes darted to each of them, to what was in their hands as they all entered, speaking quietly. Seeing it gave him some control, like he could use this to his advantage.

Bucky just couldn't focus on his being at their complete mercy. He could do nothing and had no control over any of it. So instead, he put on a determined scowl and watched as three men set up some sort of vials and pulled out syringes. His stomach leapt off the bridge as he wondered why they had all this crap...

He swallowed thickly, fear creeping into his bravado. Bucky's eyes raced and he kept quietly pulling at the bonds. With enough strength, they could loosen... it was during this that he saw his opportunity. Maybe it was pointless, perhaps the fear, but when one of the men carelessly got too close to his wrists, he reached out and grabbed ahold of the syringe held loosely in his hand.

The man shouted something in German and Bucky did his best with his makeshift weapon. But he ought to have known that he couldn't do much but stab the one guy with his wrists tied down. A soldier came quickly and knocked him over the head.

He woke up to the sound of whimpering. Then, more German muttering and his eyes flew open as he came to. It was to his pure horror that the doc, the man he'd gotten with the syringe, was laid up on a table, having some sort of fit. James swallowed, eyes jumping around to see the equipment all set up and all less than a foot around the table he was strapped to.

"My, my," he heard a differently accented voice as he watched the man. "You really are the persistent one." The lead scientist, the one who had him brought here with the glasses. He muttered the response in his sleep. "I suppose I know now that he was not strong enough."

The man moved around and he scowled. So what? Bucky wasn't surprised to find out he had as much compassion for his own men as the allied prisoners. All the worst luck for him. His eyes kept jumping to the doctor, who, after another ten minutes, had let out a rattling scream. It sunk in his bones and made Bucky shiver.

"What do ya want?" He snapped, trying to stall as he saw the man fiddle less.

"What does every man strive for? Success, of course!" The scientist said with a flourish to his voice. The man on the other table suddenly screamed something in German and the other two clustered around him. One held his arm down and the other wrote notes on a pad. It interested the scientist, who stopped what he was doing near James and went to his fellow. He twisted his head around, eyes scanning over everything, desperate to find a way out of this in the nick of time...

But he didn't and with low 'tsks', the scientist returned.

"Well. Another failure, another too weak, or it may be the serum." He sighed and looked down over James suddenly. He reached out and James jerked his head. The scientist only chuckled contritely and reached into James' shirt. He tugged out the dog tags hanging around his neck and scanned them. What he wouldn't do to be able to get his hands on this guy. "James Barnes, is it? We should see if all your bravado can help you more than your fellow soldiers, Sergeant Barnes."

"Getta away from me," He snapped, to which he received an amused chuckle.

"Oh, but we have barely begun!"

His breathing grew louder and louder as the man dropped his dog tags back to his chest and picked up one of the syringes with a severe set to the eyes behind the glasses.

He awoke with a short shout, his metal fist crushing around the air as he sat up quickly, his wrists making an odd tugging motion as if they were restrained. Except... James looked around, breaths coming fast... he still remembered parts of his dream.

He had dreamed, and he shouldn't; he never did. He could hardly figure out what to make of the ghosting images that suddenly rattled in his mind. His hand swiped at his sweaty face, the sudden closeness of his wrist making the beeping still going off abundantly clear. James lowered his hand and turned off the timer, realizing his hand was shaking.

He quickly got up, his feet restless and his mind buzzing still. Dear God, what had all that been? It was all becoming a blur to fast to figure it out, so he went to the dresser to look over the small, sad arsenal. Something to count, something to steady him and to lower his rocketing heart rate.

Natalia sat quietly, left alone with her own thoughts. She was so used to the feeling that she wasn't even bothered by it. Her own thoughts were complete gibberish to her. It was like she remembered things that had never happened and tried her best to ignore them. They brought headaches and got her confused. It never felt right because they were complete opposites of her usual clear memories. She sighed and looked out of the window. Her gaze turned to the window when she heard deep breaths from the man beside her bed.

Suddenly she heard his alarm go off and was startled. She looked down at the peaceful form of the man and considered trying to reach his watch to set it off without waking him. Once she moved, he started muttering about someone killing her. It caused her to still mid movement and look down at his slowly moving form. Romanova frowned, wondering if he thought of her wanting to kill him. She wouldn't... She wouldn't do that, would she? He clearly thought she wouldn't do such a thing, but how would he know about it? He didn't know anything about her after all.

The thought bothered her and she withdrew almost automatically from his beeping watch. The memory again of the dark-haired woman rose and she wondered what she could do so perhaps his sorrow of her killing him was justified. Romanova might turn out to be a threat to him. She cast her gaze downward and saw her leg. It made her pause for a moment. Perhaps he didn't mean her. After all, she wasn't able to move without hurting herself, and she clearly couldn't get out of bed. Romanova seemed to relax a little at the comfort of the thought that he might not have meant her with his muttering.

Her gaze went to the window and the landscape and forest outside. It dawned and she watched some branches move in the wind. The sun was dawning, leaving dark shadows between the trees around the old hut. Her breathing quickened as she panicked. Was he referring to a threat outside and it almost seemed like things were moving in the shadows now? She looked around panicked, she wanted to reach for a gun, but they were all away from her like he was afraid of her shooting him...

She tried to push the thought away from her mind.

Again her gaze went to the shadows and it was like blazing white eyes were staring at her. Her breathing quickened as suddenly those two bright eyes turned into spots than white blinding lamps like the ones at the Red Room shining down at her. She was transported to the chair - bound so tightly to it. Her head hurt and she sat still, forgetting everything. Her breathing increased, but she wasn't able to speak. It was almost like they had sewn her mouth shut. Faintly she noted her torso moving back and forth. Back and forth… but those bright eyes moved closer and they belonged to the scientists. The ones that inflicted so much pain.

A short shout brought her back and almost - just almost, a scream elicited from her own lips but she held it back. She hadn't noticed how she had brought her hands up to hold her head in place. To move her head from the pounding pain. The Black Widow faintly saw him move quickly away but was too busy with her own mind. Her gaze promptly went back outside to check her surroundings. Nothing was there. Next was the Winter Soldier; he stood in front of a dresser or something.

Romanova didn't notice his panicked state as her mind was busy working with her own information set. Those bright eyes…

Slowly it all filtered away, but that was normal. It felt normal, helpful; it got rid of the helpless feeling, the restraints from James's dream... or memories.. he didn't know... but it could all go away so quickly. All he knew was it was dangerous to let the cool calm wash over him. Despite how much it might feel comforting right now. He couldn't let himself reset to that mindset. Especially when he started to think about how long it would take to get to a way of communication if he could get to a town or a map...

He growled lowly to himself. James should know better than that... right now, he glanced at his watch... he'd slept three and a half hours. He had more than enough rest for his body and then some... he took a deep breath and stopped counting the things on the dresser.

That helped rid himself of the nightmare, but it made the focused mindset close in on him again. James whipped around to look at Natalia. He'd tend to her wounds again, check on her leg, change the rags out... something to do with his hands. It was the only thing he knew to do that wouldn't bring that focus back to controlling him.

When he turned back around, though, he saw Natalia in a worse state. Her hands were splayed across the sides of her head, fingers clutching too tightly there. It did wonders on the calm washing over him and James strode over to her, carefully setting one of his knees on her bed.

"Natalia," He called softly. "Ya with me, dollface?" He asked thoughtlessly, reaching out his flesh hand to set over one of hers, still clutching tightly to her head.

Natalia quickly turned away, searching for those bright eyes outside. Her breathing was erratic and her eyes filled with the terror inside her mind. She searched and searched, but the two glowing eyes were gone. She blinked, trying to press the heel of her hands into her eyes before looking out again. Her gaze searched the shadows again and there they were. Staring at her - obviously waiting for the best time to get her.

She hadn't noticed that her hands had moved to clutch her hair near her torso. As soon as she felt the mattress of the bed move, she saw how close the Winter Soldier had come. Like he was searing the skin of her hand, Romanova pulled almost instantly back. The young woman managed to force herself to appear calm despite the terror of her own thoughts. The only thing that mirrored her fear was her eyes. She looked at him and then back outside. The eyes were gone, but she couldn't shake the feeling that they were here to get her. The scientists would always get her.

Her back was pressed against the wall, as she couldn't move further away from him. Her eyes were set on him as she slowed her breathing, but it was still a little shaky compared to her relaxed state. It took almost all her willpower to drop her hands from the side of her hair onto her bed.

"You're safe, Natalia," He reassured her as he watched her jumpy nature; her eyes darted out the window and around, looking for a threat.

He might not know what was in her mind, but he knew it wasn't good. He wanted to say that she would not be harmed while he was there, but that was never going to be something he could promise so entirely.

"Nothing is here but we two," He continued but kept his hand to himself.

Romanova looked back at him as he spoke again. She listened half heartedly as her gaze went from one shadow to the other. The glowing white eyes had disappeared. She shook her head and objected

"There is something! I saw it..." She had seen it with her own eyes and the Black Widow glanced out of her as her attention seemed to jump between him and the outside.

That was until what he said was registered fully. Nothing was there but the two of them. That meant he was indeed scared of Romanova killing him. Apparently, the Winter Soldier thought she could do something like that. In a way that seemed to shock her even more than the glowing eyes of the scientists and her eyes set on him. She would keep that knowledge close to her. "How can you be sure that there's no one?" she suddenly asked.

He remained silent as she insisted. He did her the courtesy of looking, but there was nothing there. As expected. They were in a very secluded place, and they were not tracked. Even in his haste, he had made sure of it. He couldn't have the mission jeopardized by a sloppy escape that would lead anyone looking to a conclusion other than the accident with the animal. Even now, the Soldier was sure the clean-up crew had taken care of the explosion. More had been done before, quicker.

She questioned again and he turned his gaze to Natalia, a slight frown on the corner of his lips. It was simply the shadows and the torments in her own mind.

"Because I brought us here, and I took us here knowing no one could find us," He explained calmly. A sharp sting went through his mind as his words bordered dangerously on disobedience. No one being the press, investigators, or any further attempt of the counselor's men to become suspicious. For all the real reasons, their handlers and the department could not find them. "This place is secluded." He finished, watching her for her response.

Romanova nodded slightly, her head pounding with the information. She wasn't sure where those eyes had come from, but this was probably her mind playing tricks on her. It didn't feel like it. It felt like the eyes and the scientists had been real. She was at the hidden labs in the Red Room or elsewhere.

"Okay," she simply replied, staying in the safety of her own mother tongue. Her gaze darted back outward to reach for the glowing eyes again. The more she thought about it, the more she knew it had been her mind playing tricks on her. Indeed no one had such glowing bright white eyes as the one she had seen. It didn't really make things better. Her hands went back up to the side of her head, hoping if she pressed hard enough, it would keep the skull from breaking apart and numb the pain.

The Black Widow seemed to grow distant but in another way than she was usually busy with her noisy mind. It was the way she looked at the scientists and targets. Her body was under control and nothing told about the pain she was feeling than the hands clutching the side of her head again. Her whole body showed a more relaxed and collected side, but her eyes showed confusion and fear.

That did mean he thought she would kill him eventually. Perhaps not now, but as soon as her leg had healed. Romanova wasn't sure why he was helping her. It made little to no sense to her now. He was gentle towards her but also seemed to fear to die. If no one was around, he could only think of her as a threat.

"I guess I was just imagining things in that case," the widow said way too calmly for that actual statement.

He watched quizzically as she seemed to withdraw. Or get better, he was not sure which her behavior would be. Her hands were still on her head and yet her body language had changed to become smoother. He wasn't sure if this was intentional or part of the war within her mind. It made reacting rather difficult... did she fear whatever she'd seen still?

Natalia brushed off her previous concerns with a tightly knit statement and James' eyebrows furrowed. The way she held her head did not align with how she insisted things had been nothing. It must be the conditioning or fear of it, perhaps. She'd been worried about the pain when he first saw her again in the room he spared in. That thought was the first to try and drag the soldier's mission back up, but his decision was that this was important to help her overturn the instincts.

"Natalia," He said a little more firmly than he'd been thus far. He moved his knee and sat on the bed beside her torso. He watched her for another moment, trying to organize his thoughts.

"You do not need to fear retaliation here. No one can see you or will know your actions," He didn't think he'd put into words what James meant properly... he was not as good with them as Natalia. He wanted to tell her that she didn't have to worry about prying eyes when she was alone with him. He was not one of them, and their missions were the few places they could act as they wanted to with one another. Would she understand how much he meant it? He couldn't go into more detail that would raise too many questions too soon, right? James wondered how she'd made this so easy. James looked at her face, desperately urging her silently to understand him. How could he word it?

"There are no punishments here..." ... 'With me.'

He watched her, a frown tugging on his face without his ability to manipulate it. He just wanted her to understand he was safe. That he would not hurt her, and mostly that he could protect her in some small way, that he could help her... it hurt to think it, but trick them, to hide some of her honest thoughts.

She listened to him and watched him. How his body moved to try to find out what his next step would be. It was difficult for her. Her mind told her to watch out for the slightest red flag, indicating that her conclusions were correct. Yet, he was so relaxed around her and seemed like he genuinely cared. Except he was the cold Winter Soldier and she wasn't sure what to do with this conflicting information.

So she decided to believe her experience. The Black Widow had seen him fight and kill his targets and others before. The ones that compromised his mission or threatened him and she had done both. Despite that, he was sitting here trying to make her feel comfortable.

Romanova shook her head slightly as she got tangled up in her thoughts until they didn't even make sense anymore. She hadn't threatened him, or at least as far as she could remember. Still, why was he dying, or who would kill him if no one was around but them? So the only logical answer was he feared she would be murdering him.

"I don't fear punishment. They are necessary to ensure that people do what they are told to do. It increases the efficiency of any mission if you listen to your handlers or the one in charge. It's a necessary evil and that is alright," she told him truthfully, wondering why he thought she was afraid of it. As bad as it was, she needed to reach her full potential. The scientists did know better.

"It helps me! They make me reach my full potential that way. So punishments are necessary," she said. Her mind stopped throbbing as she finally thought about something other than those eyes, so she slowly dropped her hands.

Any hope at the progress he thought they'd made slowly dissolved for him. He sat back some and looked over her and felt lost. He wasn't Natalia and could only try her techniques for so long before he ran out and had to do things himself. James hardly had any control over himself; it had taken Natalia to make him remember what he did now. How was he supposed to bring anything back for her?

Her words were what the Winter Soldier might say were James not in control. So he knew these words were not hers, but the people who put them there. As it was for him… now that he… had these vague recollections of some past life, he had the facts within the files...

Yet, she thought it was 'evil', whereas he'd only ever seen it as the only truth until Natalia shone a light and told him otherwise. He had to cling to that; even when she was lying back in the comfort of the conditioning, Natalia's mind rebelled. It was simply in her nature, and he had to continue to tell himself her spirit was too strong to be overrun as James Barnes' had been.

"The chair," He growled the name in his frustration, painful flashes coming over him. "Does nothing but take parts of you away." Then, with a moment of pain, he suddenly remembered, asking her desperately to never forget herself. To always remember him. He'd been worried that without Natalia's memories, he would fade away again. The piece of him he'd reclaimed would drift back away… and it almost did, but she had left him a puzzle to put together, which stopped it from happening. She had lost in her efforts to keep him here. She'd given up when they took her away. Maybe she was still giving up now.

He'd been worried too, then at the opera, to his efficiency to watch her brilliant flame die away into the cold. James realized he was having a much harder time with that than he'd even realized he could. He needed to remain calm for her, but it was more complicated than he'd ever anticipated. James had clung to his ability to turn her around, to help her, that he could quickly and efficiently bring her back because she was strong enough to do so. Instead he watched his attempts be turned towards helping them…

James's eyes locked onto hers again and he reached out and grabbed ahold of both hands she'd just lowered with his own, one metal, one flesh. In his sudden sweep of desperation, he didn't care if it would set her back or if the metal might panic her. Maybe that would be good; it would be feeling… it would remind her the chair was not good for her. Both hands squeezed around hers, his metal one restraining more so he wouldn't hurt her.

"You told me once you would try, and I need you to try, Natalia," He ground out, James' voice begging her to remember something from that or at least… feel something from it.

He'd asked her in that opera to try when she suggested forgetting would be so easy. James just needed her to try now… to not withdraw into the cold. Not give up as she had by the fence when they took her, not take the painless, easy route. James knew the cold was worse than he was… and he knew it would take Natalia's effort to break it; his own was too weak. He'd seen it too many times. She was always the one to break it… not him. He was cold in nature, whatever those faded memories said, and she was warm… and he could only mimic a flame so far.

She listened to him quietly as he talked about the chair. As much as she didn't want to hear it, she knew he was right and what he meant. So they took it away and stuffed it behind a white fog which eventually turned into an unbreakable wall. As soon as she did something like scratching on the bricks, it started hurting, even pounding against her skull. It felt like someone stabbed her brain to ensure things stayed behind that wall. Again, Romanova shook her head lightly, but this time to disagree with him. "If they take away things, it's for the greater good," she reasoned, but something within her flinched over that statement.

Romanova almost felt bad for this man. Whatever he was trying to prove was simply wrong and unsuccessful. He almost seemed to become desperate to get anything from her. Whatever it was he was trying to reach was merely mistaken. Every cell in her body was screaming to her she was right, except for one small, irrational part that was on his side; but it was too easy for her to silence that part to even pay attention or notice it.

As soon as their gazes locked, she felt a weird wave of relaxation take over her. His blue eyes had something about them, but she didn't know what. As soon as he took both hands, she stilled again. She sat almost statuesque again but soon found herself relaxing. She looked at both his metal and flesh hand and a frown appeared on her forehead. It felt practically familiar, but she couldn't… this wasn't right!

He said Romanova promised him to try. The statement brought both pain and confusion and she wanted neither. "Try what..?" she asked, trying to make any sense out of this. She wrinkled her mouth and felt the urge to grab her head again. Instead, she zoned out into some sort of memory. She was sitting in an elegant room full of people watching a woman sing very high. She shook her head as it became spotty, followed by a headache. It was like someone had fast-forwarded the scene. It was spotty, but for once, she tried to pester it. Something within her made her do that.

"Because forgetting means you don't know what happened. Sometimes it's better not to know what you've done…" she had said and Romanova almost instantly knew how wrong she had been. Someone in a suit and short dark hair was talking with her. They visited the… the opera for a mission.

"You would lose more than you think you would," he said and it made the Black Widow frown as the Winter Soldier still held her hands. "Never forget, Natalia,"

"Never forget, Natalia," she gasped simultaneously as the dark-haired man said it in her memory. By now, she was almost panting in pain and finally allowed it to slip back and she closed her eyes.

"I don't want to try to remember…" she breathed out, knowing it would only come with punishments and more pain. She hardly doubted she would survive any more pain. She looked at him, finally understanding what he meant.

"My name is Romanova, not Natalia! Stop calling me that name. Just let me be, Winter!" she told him, hoping he would listen to it. A small part tried fighting her and made her add the season of the year in the end.

She spoke… no, she remembered. Raw determination replaced the desperation in James's eyes and he smiled broadly. If she could remember that from a simple prompt… then she could also remember more. She could find herself, and if he could do anything, it was to remember those precious moments with Natalia between the cold.

The pain was getting to her, he realized, and James switched the way he held her hands to interlock their fingers. Her breathing quickened, and her eyes widened as they seemed to grow less distant. She was in pain from such a strong memory, perhaps. He rubbed each of his thumbs along the soft skin above her thumb.

She attacked him next, and perhaps he would have balked if she hadn't added her personal nickname for him. Instead, it was as if Natalia were signaling him from beneath, urging him onward.

"If I should let you be, why do you call me Winter instead of Soldier as everyone else does? Why is that? If it did not matter to you, you would not. Yet you do," He prodded, showing her the logical side of this when the pain was perhaps too high for the emotional side. Still, he never let go of her hands, trying to comfort her even though he needed to make her uncomfortable.

"It's because you do want this, Natalia Romanova. They simply replaced your wants with fear of pain. Do not let them win and take you simply for comfort."

Natalia looked at him as he spoke and almost forcibly shook her head. She tried not to. It urged him on, but finally, someone brought some logic to something she had dismissed as illogical gibberish. It was so odd that he seemed to understand her brain better than she did.

"It's just a season…", she muttered incoherently under her breath, trying to persuade herself that it was still gibberish. This brought more pain she desperately tried to keep away.

"I'm not afraid of the pain! Pain is necessary. You should know that, S...So...Win...", she started, but this pain. This pain was different, though. It was almost like torture but without the wooden chair. It was the same pain, which felt like someone was breaking her head in two.

She had wanted to add Soldier, his title, but… but couldn't bring herself to. Why? She didn't know. Yet she almost slipped out Winter again. This time, she bit down on her tongue hard. It drew a little blood, but she didn't care. Calling him Winter seemed second nature to her. So was this really his name? Was that a nickname? She didn't want to ask. Questions brought physical and psychological pain, and she wanted neither option. So, why didn't they leave her alone? Always questions…

Yet this problem swirled around in her head: Soldier… Winter… Winter Sol… Soldier, Winter Soldier, Sol… Winter.

It was like her brain tried to figure this out, despite her not wanting it to and the pain. Romanova hissed in pain and brought both hands up to her head. She didn't notice that he still held her hands until she felt the cool metal of his hand on her skin. Natalia closed her eyes. The coolness brought some pain relief like ice did. Slowly she leaned more into his left hand.

Finally, she gave up her inner battle and simply accepted that his name was Winter. Despite the pain, it rolled off her tongue right.

"It's what you call me," He insisted as she told herself it was a simple word. He hated that they made her think so. Natalia's pain would never be necessary. James didn't believe they could even have the Winter Soldier think that. He wanted so badly to defend her from it. Yet James had failed so miserably. It was all he could do to try and reverse it in some way. He hadn't expected that to be a pathway through pain alone, he knew he should have expected it, but he had simply not wanted to.

As it was, all he could do was sit there and watch her struggle. James' face fell more and more as she continued to struggle. He had struggled, had he not? Yes, and he would define now, how he was with a free thought of his own at small times away from a mission, was well worth that pain. He just wished, or at least part of him did, that he didn't need to make that decision for her.

She jerked his hands up and he almost let go, but she pulled them too much and he simply leaned his shoulders forward as she set their hands against her temples. Her sigh made him still. He watched her tiredly. James was surprised… as she seemed to favor the metal, and he was bemused by that.