ostavil | open post

"Here is outside Fischingen," Bucky says. "There's German garrison I had to sneak past earlier. Do you think they might have picked up Jarvis and Natalie and thought you were dead?"

Howard Stark is recognizable, sure, but would the average German soldier know who he was? Maybe not, looking the way he is right now. He looks like a man who's risen from the dead, is what he looks like, and so Bucky decides that he has to stay dead for the next little while. He cocks his head at the wreck of the plane.

"Anything you want to salvage out of this? If I have to go break into a German army base, I want it to be the last stop before I get my ass back to Switzerland."

Howard looked more than a little frazzled, but he was at least processing. He rubbed hands through his hair, making it stand on end and giving him the look of a crazed madman, but he turned around to what remained of his plane at Bucky's question, then shook his head.

"Don't think so. Most of the important stuff you guys tossed out of the cargo hold. Speaking of," he added with an increasing note of panic, "did you manage to recover most of it? Please say you did because I'm going to go off my rock--"

"Sir!"

The new voice echoed out of the brush and falling snow, and was tinged with a crisp British accent. Jarvis finally staggered out of the bushes, nearly falling in his haste. But he was burdened by a second figure under his protective arm, staggering along as best as it could.

"Jarvis!" Howard exclaimed, rushing past Barnes. "Natalie! Oh my God, Natalie! What the hell happened, Jarvis!" Howard started babbling in concern as his chauffeur and his secretary collapsed in the slush, the latter with her clothing torn, her curls in complete disarray, and her pale skin covered in dark sticky streaks that weren't dirt or ash.

But she was alive, thankfully, and her left hand tightly gripped a Heckler USP, and Jarvis's eyes were still a little wild. "We're all right, sir. Miss Rushman is...a little disoriented, but...I believe she'll pull through." The Brit's gaze flicked over Howard's head and alighted on Barnes. "Ah, Sergeant, thank God. Have you come to take us home, please?"

What the hell happened is a goddamn understatement. Bucky doesn't care about Stark or Jarvis any longer. What he cares about is Natalia and he rushes to her, kneeling in the snow, and brushes gentle fingertips across bruised and bloodied skin. She's injured but she's alive and that's all that matters to him right now. He could have Adolf Hitler himself ride up to kill them all and Bucky wouldn't care. He's got eyes and ears and hands on his girl and he can make sure she's all right.

"Where does it hurt?" he asks gently, almost too low for the other two to hear. "What's injured, moya lisichka, what can I do to help?"

He hadn't brought any medical supplies with him because he'd wanted to pack light and now he's cursing it because finding the vehicle had been luck he hadn't thought he'd get. It's a civilian truck, though, a farmer's truck, and he doesn't think he's got anything in there to heal these hurts. It's all right. He can get Natasha back over the river and Carter will have something to patch her up with.

"Tell me what I need to do for you."

Jarvis was in the process of reporting details to Howard, who was pacing around in the typical fashion of the useless when in an emergency, but broke off when Sergeant Barnes rushed over to take hold of Natalie. She all but fell into his arms, finally relinquishing her grip on the gun, and Jarvis carefully picked it up. "It's not her blood," the Brit told Barnes. He looked between Howard and the Sergeant.

"We jumped out, sir, right before the impact, as you remember." Howard nodded. "It took me a bit to climb out of that ditch in which I'd landed, but I eventually came across Miss Rushman, unconscious in a thicket, with the gun." His voice hitched, and his eyes went a little wild. "...along with five German soldiers scattered about...all of them...dead."

Howard blinked. Natalia shivered, whimpered, and seemed to rouse from her stupor, blinking several times. Then her eyes widened and she began to shake, but not before throwing her arms around Bucky's neck and clutching him tight. "...James..!" Stark just stared at the three of them, still not processing.

"Sir, Sergeant," Jarvis broke in, apparently used to being the voice of reason, "might I suggest we repair to the vehicle and get out of this cold? The Germans will no doubt be looking for their deceased comrades, and it would be wise to be absent of this place when they finally find them."

Jarvis is right, of course, and Bucky flips him the keys because there's no way he's driving when Natalia seems to need him so much. He's goddamned impressed that she'd managed to kill the German pat without them taking any harm and he wonders if it had been sheer adrenaline or something else. Doesn't matter. What matters is that he's here now and he isn't going to let her go for a while unless Phillips threatens to court-martial him.

"I'm going to carry you," Bucky says, lifting her up in his arms. Maybe it's more for him than it is for her but he wants to make sure she feels safe and warm and all the things she deserves. He's shaken up from the day, more than a little, and he didn't even go through half of what she had. He settles in the back of the truck, thankful it's got a camper top, and tugs Natalia back against his chest.

"I'm sorry I didn't stay. They made me go."

She was shivering almost uncontrollably, her arms wrapped tight around herself even as she huddled into James's chest once the truck began to move. All she could remember was fire, the plane rumbling like a monster as it slammed into the ground, being thrown out of it by Jarvis, and Howard yelling as he followed. Then came flashes of gunfire, angry shouts in German, and next she was waking up to see Jarvis standing over her, trying to get her up out of the snow and broken foliage.

There were dead men all around her.

The next thing she recognized had been her James, his handsome face creased with worry and fear, and she'd wanted to sob with relief because he had come for her. She couldn't have strung two coherent thoughts together if she'd tried, but that was fine because that thought was the only one that mattered at all.

He had come for her.

The truck bounced, making her teeth click together, and Natalia swallowed a brief scream, but she huddled as close as she could to Bucky's solid warmth, feeling as if she'd just gone through the war herself. And in a way, that was dangerously close to the truth.

Bucky unbuttons his coat and slides his arms out of it, tugging it around where he's encircled her with his arms so she can be warmed by both the cloth and his body heat. He knows she must be in shock from both the cold and whatever the hell happened and he wants to ease it, if he can. He wants to take all of her hurts and make them his own.

He kisses the top of her head and rubs her bare arms with his hands. "I got close to being court-martialed a few times but there was no way I wouldn't come for you. I cloaked it in coming for Stark but it was you I needed. I couldn't...I didn't want your last memory of me being that I left you. I didn't want you hurt and afraid and alone. I wish it had been me instead."

He's at least trained for this, been through both basic and the extensive training he'd gotten to be a Howling Commando. She's just a girl who has seen more than she ought to have and Bucky just wants to protect her from it all. "When we get back, I'll get you in a hot shower and a warm bed. I won't leave you."

She couldn't answer him right yet, her teeth were still chattering too loudly. But she gratefully accepted the offered warmth from both his body and the coat, sliding down beneath the heavy fabric to soak up all the comfort that she could. Buried under James's coat and safely away from the rest of the world, Natalia finally let the tears course down her cheeks; she'd had no choice, Stark was her only priority, and if he died, her own life would be forfeit.

And hearing this man, this good man, saying he'd tried to come for her, he'd been so desperate to get back to her, he wished he'd been in her place instead; all of that plus the absolute sincerity in his voice only made her tears come faster, and small snuffled sobs finally emerged from the middle of Bucky's chest, wafting up from beneath his heavy coat. She was hurt, she was so afraid, and she could still feel the weight of the gun in her hand, a coldly comforting weight against the onslaught of those foolish men who'd tried to apprehend her.

They'd never known what had hit them.

And now, James was holding her as if she were made of glass and so precious, cradling her to his chest as if he'd never let her go. Misery sank down on her shoulders like a heavy weight; she was nothing, a weapon, she could never deserve something so pure and good as this tender heart.

"I've got you, lisichka, moy lyubov'," Bucky says tenderly. His Russian still has a layer of Brooklyn over it but his tongue is getting used to the rhythm of it, the shape of the vowels that don't quite exist in English. He's better at it than the French he'd taken in high school and the little bit of German he knows. He's better at it because he cares about it.

"I'm never going to let anyone hurt you again," he promises. "I'm never going to let this happen again. I won't leave you. I didn't want to leave this time and I'm not leaving you again. I don't care if it means I'm insubordinate. You're more important to me than anyone."

The ride is slow so they don't attract attention and the whole time Bucky simply strokes her skin and murmurs sweet nonsense against her hair - sometimes his limited Russian, mostly everything he can think to say in English. By the time they pull up to where the base is set up, he thinks he'll have to carry Natalia to a bed somewhere. He doesn't mind it.

"We're here. Do you need my help to walk?"

Agent Carter had appropriated a small hostel, reimbursing the owners at the Army's expense, and the Commandos and their Captain had been busy setting up a communications center and getting the rest of Stark's cargo stored while Sergeant Barnes had been gone. Howard nearly collapsed in a relieved faint when he was informed that, yes, they did manage to save nearly all of his equipment, and shook off any medical examinations as he hurried out of the truck, but did, at least, make sure that there was a physician on hand to check over his staff before he vanished into the inn's depths.

Steve was there to help Bucky get Natalie out of the truck, handing her back once his best friend clambered out of the bed. Her teeth were still chattering and she was shaking, but not as violently as before. "She okay, Buck?" Peggy didn't wait for an answer, she instead directed Bucky to take her directly inside; a town nurse was waiting to look her over, and she would see to Jarvis while the others went about their duties.

In the office-turned-examination room, Natalia didn't want to let go of James, and the nurse had to veritably pry her fingers loose so she could look the bedraggled woman over. A sprained wrist, several broken ribs, a few rough contusions, and a mild concussion later, the nurse gave her a shot of antibiotics, a small bottle of painkillers, with instructions to the Sergeant about getting her cleaned up, rested, and kept quiet.

"Make sure she doesn't fall asleep for at least six hours, Sergeant," the nurse warned. "Concussion patients who drift off sometimes don't ever wake up. So, the longer you can keep her awake, the better. But get her warm, and into some clean clothes, and don't let her become too chilled."

Bucky nods. He's not going to let anything happen to Natalia under his care and he gently guides her back to the room he's decided they're going to share. It outs them to everyone but he imagines that had already been evident, considering his concern for her, and he doesn't really care. He cares about her. He settles her on the bed before going to the bathroom on this floor.

He goes and gets a washcloth and a basin with warm water to help and clean her and once he's back in the room, he shuts the door and locks it. "I'm going to clean you up a little, lisichka. Tell me if anything hurts."

Bucky puts the basin on the little night table and starts unbuttoning her shirt, careful as he pulls it away. "When you're washed off, I have some of my clothes you can wear. I thought that might make you feel better."

Her clothes felt disgusting, stained with dirt, snow, and blood as they were. She didn't protest as James began to undress her, even helping him by sliding her arms out of her blouse and tossing it aside. Natalia just nodded to everything he said, trying to corral her shivering and remain upright on the edge of the bed. The blood on her hands had dried to a dull brown, dark smears that made her stomach lurch just to look at.

She'd lost her shoes somewhere back in the German forest, and her feet were sported small cuts and scratches from their numb trek; she thought she might even have frostbite in a few toes. But she accepted the warm cloth gratefully, almost burrowing into it wherever it touched. The room had spavined heating, and being naked and damp wasn't exactly pleasant, but she wanted to get clean more than anything at all.

Her teeth finally stopped chattering long enough for her to speak, although her voice was cracked, rough. "...i-it all h-hurts, J-James."

The sound of gunfire echoed in her ears, coupled with the screams of dying men, and her knees suddenly went weak, and she whimpered in pain as she crumpled, her shaking beginning all over again.

"I know, darlin', I know," Bucky says. He keeps bathing her off, getting her clean, and once he has he gets a soft towel and dries her off as gently as he can. He's got some of his personal clothes along with army issue and he has a set of his own flannel pajamas from back home. He rarely wears them unless it's damned cold in winter but he's glad he's brought them.

It's a little awkward to dress her but he manages and he hopes he hasn't jostled her hurts too much. When she's dressed, he stands and shucks his uniform, leaving it on the floor, and slides behind her in the bed so she can lay against his bare chest.

"You have to stay awake for a little while and I know that's hard," he murmurs. "But I'm right here and I'm going to take care of you."

Natalia let James dress her without complaint; the fabric was wonderfully comfortable against her abused skin. Then he was tucking her into bed before shucking his own bedraggled clothing, and she shivered in bliss this time when he slid into bed behind her.

She wanted to turn around in his arms and cuddle close, but settled for his arms coming around her, pulling her back against his wonderfully solid chest instead. Putting her arms over his, she angled her head to fit it beneath his chin, breathing him in deep.

"...I have a concussion, don't I." More of a statement than a question. She'd dimly heard the nurse say something along those lines, but her wits had still been a little scattered during the examination. "...won't you get in trouble with Colonel Phillips, for being in here with me?"

"You have a concussion and I don't care what Colonel Phillips wants," Bucky says softly. "I have to keep you awake for a couple hours, lisichka, but then I'll let you sleep. I just want to make sure you're all right before I let you fall asleep on me."

Bucky keeps stroking her skin wherever he can touch it, soft touches against her face and neck and along her hands. He'd wanted her to be warm so she's wearing long sleeves but he wishes he could brush his fingertips all over her soft, pale skin and make her feel real to him again.

"I'm all yours tonight. Door's locked and everything I have is for you. Nobody is going to bother us and if they do, I'll shoot them."

She sighed, disconsolate, at the verification that she did, indeed, have a concussion. The headache certainly made it seem so. And she could feel the pull of lethargy, sucking at her like quicksand, wanting her to dive beneath its slumber and just rest in his arms. The brushes of rough fingertips over her exposed skin wasn't helping her stay awake, either. But at least they brought warmth, so she nestled closer and closed her eyes, just trying to breathe without panicking.

"...I killed them," Natalia suddenly heard herself say. "All of them." Five German soldiers. "They were going to find us, they were going to capture us and take us back and interrogate us and they'd have sold Howard off to the highest bidder and used Jarvis for their sick games and-and-" She suddenly bit her tongue, digging her fingernails into Bucky's forearms as she tried not to hyperventilate.

Trained though she might be, hardened to the world as she was, there was nevertheless something unsettling about purposeful murder, and the shock of recent events was taking its toll.

"You were brave," Bucky says. "You did something I couldn't even do and I don't know how the hell you did it. You're a strong woman, that's all, and you take care of yourself. You did what you needed to do to protect yourself and the people you cared about. There's nothing wrong with that."

Bucky thinks he'd have killed five times more Germans to get to Natalia if he had to. He kisses her neck, more comfort than trying to start anything, and leaves his lips there when he speaks again. His voice is low to keep from bothering her headache and right now he feels painfully intimate with her.

"They all know you're mine," he murmurs. "And that'd I'd do anything to keep you safe. I'm sorry if you wanted to keep it hidden but there was nothing keeping me from saving you, sweetheart. Nothing would keep me from you. Just breathe with me for a little while, all right?"

She let his words wash over her; not so much as what he actually said, but more the sound of his voice, the rumble of it down in his chest, that more than anything was what soothed her, helped to bring her back from that manic edge of fear. Natalia knew exactly how she'd done it - she'd let go and let her muscles take over, let her years of training transform her from a pretty legal secretary to a black widow spider, beautiful and deadly.

And she was his. It was surely no secret any longer, not with the way he'd come for her, cared for her, risked his entire military career for her. And if she were again honest with herself, being his girl didn't really seem like all that bad of a thing. It would help cement her cover, to be sure, and would also keep her in relatively close proximity to Captain Rogers and his elite unit.

Although privately, she admitted that being James Barnes' girl was just...something she wanted for herself.

It took a bit of doing, and she was again exhausted by the time she managed it, but Natalia slowly wiggled around in Bucky's arms, slid her own around his waist, and leaned up to press a shaky kiss to his soft, warm lips, inhaling his breath as she rested against him.

"Moya zvezda," she whispered, kissing him again, soft. "...thank you. ...for coming for me."

"There was no other option," Bucky promises her. He kisses her again, the softest and sweetest he can manage. He wants to wrap her up and never let her go right now and he's glad she's safe with him but she's not out of the woods quite yet. He's still having to be gentle with her and mind the concussion.

"Don't wear yourself out. There's...I've got an extra set since I'm in the Commandos now," Bucky explains. "So I want you to have these." He slips one hand up to pull off his tags and slides them over her head gently. "I want you to know I'm always with you even if I'm not right here in your arms."

He's aiming to get assigned to Stark so he can protect her and he thinks Stark and Jarvis will put in a word for him considering he'd saved them, too, so he likes his chances. He needs this assignment, needs to be close to Natalia so he can see her and touch her and remind himself that she's his.

The slight weight of the metal, and its cool kiss against her skin had her eyes misting over again, and she was just too exhausted to try and hold back the tears this time. She wanted to hit him, or something, for being just so goddamned good, down in his tender heart, because she knew she wasn't worth even an ounce of affection from this wonderful man. But she refrained, settling for just tucking her head beneath his chin and sobbing silently against his chest.

When she could finally manage words again, Natalia lifted her head, gazed right into those lovely blue eyes staring down at her, and smiled sadly. "Why are you here with me, James Barnes? Why is your heart so good? What did I ever do to deserve someone like you?" The first two she couldn't answer, couldn't even fathom the reason. The last question, however, she did know: nothing. She'd done absolutely nothing to deserve lying here with this man, to be the caretaker of his huge, gentle heart.

"One, because I love you. Two, because I love you. And you're probably tired of this answer but three, because I love you," Bucky says, fingertips drifting lightly through her hair. All his dreams are colored with scarlet now, scarlet and snow. He wants to take care of her and bring her home with him at the end of this war. He wants to propose to her and buy her a house, have kids, be happy.

"The red hair doesn't hurt, though. I've always had my head turned by redhaired dames," he teases, flashing her a smile. "But I'd love you regardless. You're my Natalia. Moya lisichka. Lyubov' vsey moyey zhizni. I haven't figured out anything else to say. I just learned all the mushy stuff first and then I figured I'd move on to the filthy curse words. Isn't that how you learn a language?"

The words in her own tongue brought soft color to her cheeks, creeping down to stain her neck and throat. His teasing was a soft balm to her fractured nerves, and she giggled right along with him, willing herself to just rest, be light. Comfortable in his arms.

"It doesn't hurt," she agreed, kissing the tip of his nose. "Shall I help you with that? I have to stay awake somehow, don't I?" Even though she was so tired. So she began listing things off in Russian, starting with easy words and correcting his pronunciation as they went along. Some of his responses were truly hilarious, prompting her light laughter, and they shared soft, easy kisses between lessons.

They were warm together, nestled beneath the layers of blankets. Somehow, James's hands had found their way beneath the flannel shirt and gently stroked her bare skin, and she'd at some point wiggled her way out of the bottoms, and her now-bare leg rested high over his hip, her chilly toes tucked between his knees. Russian words and phrases had since given way to soft, gentle kisses and nuzzles, the slow burn of passion ever-present between them.

As the snowstorm intensified beyond the frosted windows, Natalia slowly opened her eyes as they parted, her lips kiss-bruised and still parted, gazed at her beautiful lover with soft, soft eyes, and whispered into the breath between them, "...James...I think...I think that I love you..." The flush of her cheeks added sincerity to her words, and she worried her lower lip between her teeth, suddenly shy.

The kisses are a balm for him as much for her, in a way, because it cements that she's alive and real in his arms. He's happy to try and learn Russian between snaking his fingers toward more and more hidden places against her skin. It's nice, this intimacy without the rush to sex. He can't be with her in any way but this soft, sweet way just now and he loves it, loves everything about her. When she whispers she loves him, though, he feels his heart skip a beat.

"You love me?" he asks, surprise and elation lacing through his voice. He doesn't want to be ecstatic and hug her in a way that hurts her but hearing it makes him want to jump onto the rooftop and announce he's in love to everyone even if they don't want to know (and, probably, they don't.) "I didn't...I know I fell too fast, doll. I know I did. It feels right, though, and it doesn't feel like something I rushed into because of the war. Hearing it from you just makes it feel more right."

He kisses her, soft and slow. "I love you. I know it hasn't been long and I know we're in a war but I love you and I don't want to waste any of our time. I'm willing to be as private as you want but...you're my girl, all right? It's official."

She nodded, suddenly lightheaded and she didn't think it was from the head injury. "Da. I'm your girl." No matter what, she added silently. The thought of being without him, even for a moment, was almost physically painful. To cement that he was real and in her arms right now, she wrapped her arms around his neck, tugging him over even as she slipped beneath him. His weight was solid, a tangible comfort, and Natalia molded her softness to his hard planes, nestling his body against hers in all the right places.

"...I think...I think so." Natalia rested her cheek against his when they parted after the long kiss that followed. "I've never...felt this way about anyone before, James. It feels like...home, when we're together. Does that make any sense at all, or am I just lightheaded?" She'd never known what home felt like, but if it was anything like the longing she felt when he was away from her, or the wonderful ease she felt when he was near, then she could understand why people would give everything and anything for it.

"It's crazy," she admitted after a moment. "This thing, between us. But I want it. I want you. I don't usually...I mean, I always have a plan, for everything, but I never saw this coming, James. Never saw you coming..." Her lashes drifted closed, and she sighed softly, hugging him close, so tired.

"Didn't see you coming either, malen'kaya lisitsa," Bucky says, laughing softly. "And you know I shouldn't be on top of you right now, you're all banged up." He shifts a bit so his weight isn't on her but slips his thigh between hers and keeps his arms around her.

"I think it's been long enough that you can sleep. We're getting assignments tomorrow, so I can let you know what they're doing with me. Hoping I get attached here with Stark for the most part but when we're doing strikes on important targets, I'm gonna have to ship out. They won't have a sniper without me."

He knows it's war and it's understandable but he still doesn't want to leave her. "I'm going to write you, though, and you'll see me in the reels. I'll smile for you and you'll know I'm thinking about you."

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