Disclaimer: Everything belongs to their rightful owner(s).
Timeline: Set after Captain America: The Winter Soldier, when (or if) Steve finds Bucky.
Warning(s): Implication of physically & sexually abuse, torture.
Posted on: June 12th 2014
Anonymous asked: "Now where's the fun in that?"
"Now where's the fun in that?"
The second he said it, Natasha closed her eyes and heard him roar. There's a tick to his voice when he said it, when he swung the knife in his hand, that he was not the reformed-Bucky or the decent-Winter Soldier that Steve, Tony, Bruce and everyone else had came to accept, no. This was the Winter Soldier which sent a bullet through her body just to complete a mission, the assassin that had Steve's neck in between his grasp, the killer everyone assumed was a ghost.
He was the Winter Soldier, the one Natasha once knew and lost.
The shackle bruised her when she moved, so did the ones they put around her ankle, and she's naked and bloody and for the first time in a long time, she was too drugged to actually be of any help. So she sat there and tried not to let out a whimper when the blood of the man who captured her splattered all over her legs; Natasha slumped lower.
"Natalia," he called, and Natasha realised then that there's a blanket covering her body and she's in a vehicle somehow, pressed against his chest, cradled in his arm. Like a child, someone hissed with the voice of Ivan, filled with hatred and disgust, perfect in Russian. But Natasha was too weak to fight it off as her head lolled against his shoulder and his breath hit her bare neck.
"James," she called, and she wanted to say more, asked more, but she couldn't when he only held her tighter, as though if she fell from his hold he'd lost the whole world, and privately, Natasha smiled at that, knowing the soft gestures for even the metal hand meant that this was half-Bucky, and half the man he was trying to be. The James Natasha will learn to trust even more, and if possible, love as well (;again).
"Thank you," was the only thing she could say, burying her face against the skin where his neck met his collarbone; heard the familiar rhythm of his breathing, the pulse under his skin; time stood still.
She felt him nod just as unconsciousness slipped through her once again. Natasha breathed.