Bucky has always liked the red-haired dames and as much as he shouldn't be getting involved with anyone before he ships out, he wants to get involved with this dame and he doesn't know anything about her other than she has red hair and the kind of curves he wants to get his hands on in the back room of a club if she'll let him - he's a flirt, sure, but he's no cad. If the lady doesn't want it, it's not his style to try and get it anyway. He can, however, be very persuasive.
He'd spotted her at Stark's expo and slipped away from his current date (going nowhere fast) and Steve (who probably needed double the chances to get a girl) and chase her through the crowd. He finds her near a booth where they're selling cheap beer and popcorn and he pushes through the crowd to sidle up alongside her.
"You know, as swell as this demonstration is and all, there's better drinks a couple blocks away. It would be an absolute disservice to not let you know about quality gin."
She'd already made sure that Jarvis would be close by to take care of Howard after the Expo, and she'd even arranged a 'treat' for the scientist once he arrived at his hotel room. She'd also assimilated enough information to satisfy her own superiors for a good few weeks, so she opted to take a little time for herself, because being in the background of every single photo focused on Howard Stark did get a little...tiring.
But she didn't like to wander far; Howard was a rogue and a cad and sometimes an out-and-out idiot, and there was no way to know when his ass wouldn't need hauling out of the fire. Again. And it was the wishes of both her superiors and Stark's investors that their playboy genius continue to generate good press for the "American Ideal".
Mingling with the crowd was easy. Her Expo badge read "Natalie Rushman", and it had always been easy for her to assume monikers other than her own. Granted, the refreshments for this spectacle had been arranged last minute, but she'd never minded less than stellar alcohol. She was Russian, naturally. But she'd just taken a soft sip from her cup when a decidedly Brooklyn drawl hit her ear, and she became aware of a closer presence than just the crowding audience.
A pair of steel-blue eyes met hers when she turned around, crinkling over an easy, crooked smile, and for some insane reason, Natalia felt her heart rate increase just a bit. The decorations tacked to his lapel silently introduced him as "Sergeant - First Class", and the name tag above them read "BARNES". Cheap cup still resting against her lips, Natalia finally lowered it, gave her long lashes a brief flutter, and smiled right back.
"That a fact, soldier?" She absently set the cheap swill aside, propping one small hand on the edge of the kiosk's counter. "I might just have to see for myself."
"I would never take a girl like you to a sub-par gin joint," Bucky says, putting his hand over his heart. Her nametag introduces her, Natalie Rushman, and he takes the opportunity to go ahead and use that beautiful name to try and coax her along with him.
"Best gin, best dancing, and, well, I'm an upstanding guy. You'd be in good hands, Nat."
He knows the uniform helps a lot with pulling dames so he tries to use that for his advantage. "Don't know when I'm going to get my orders, either. Might be a limited time offer."
Oh, she didn't doubt that, not in the slightest. She was sure that this "Barnes" slew his fair share of ladies, one after the other. That easy smile, sweet drawl, and killer eyes was a deadly combination, particularly to any female over the age of twelve. But did she really have the time to get involved with this bloke? Although, if he were enlisted, then he might actually be gone before she could get in too deep, right?
What would it hurt?
Famous last words, as it turned out.
Yet she had to blink. "Nat?" Oh. She glanced down at her name-badge, ticking it with a fingernail, and managed to contrive a truly coquettish pout. "You have the advantage of me...officer." Which, he wasn't, but he wasn't the only smooth talker in this conversation.
"It's James, but my friends call me Bucky. Nickname from grade school and it sort of stuck around," he says. He doesn't really want this girl to call him Bucky, though. It seems a little juvenile for someone who looks as sophisticated as this redhead that's been poured into a green dress that looks made for her.
"But James is all right with me. Don't mind the name and I guess if I'm old enough to be an officer in the Army, I'm old enough to lose childhood nicknames."
He tilts his head a bit, inviting her to go with him. "Did you want to check out my promise of better drinks and the best dancing on this side of town? My treat, naturally."
The offer did sound nice; she loved to dance and even though she'd helped arrange it, anything was better than this swill they were serving here at the symposium. Natalia gave a little glance over her shoulder, thankfully spying Jarvis standing on the edge of the stage where Howard was still "performing", keeping well out of sight of the audience but close enough to protect Howard if necessary.
So she pushed off the kiosk with a nod of her head, perfectly manicured hand reaching out to rest lightly on James's arm. "Lead the way, soldier. I'm all yours for the evening."
"You're in good hands, honest to God," Bucky says. He takes her arm and starts guiding them out of the crowed Expo and back onto city streets. He knows this city like the back of his hand, every borough, and the place he wants is an easy walk.
"Gotta recommend the gimlets they've got here," he says, hand moving to her lower back to guide her through the door. "I'm a sidecar man myself but I've had a taste and it's really good. You wanna trust me or do you want to strike out on your own, doll?"
Natalia only smiled in answer, wondering just who he'd left behind in order to chase after her. Because men like this James "Bucky" Barnes were seldom, if ever, out on their own>, all alone. But that was a curiosity left for later, because he was escorting her through the crowd and down the street a few blocks, holding open a door and ushering her inside a dimly lit but acceptable pub.
"I'll trust your judgment, James," "Natalie" replied with a soft smile, followed by a flirty little wink. "At least, once." Patting his arm, she rose on her toes to brush her lips across his cheek, saying, "Gotta go powder my nose, soldier. Be right back." Then she slipped away, putting perhaps a little more sway in her stride than was really necessary.
There's never a time to make up the words and patch up the misunderstandings. After a few days off, the Howling Commandoes are in the field nonstop taking out every HYDRA base they can. Bucky tries to forget about Natalia and everything that happened between them but he can't because he does love her even if he can't figure out why she would want to make him doubt his own mind. Maybe it was a game to her. Maybe he just got in the way of what she was supposed to be doing. He doesn't know.
They're high in the Alps today and ziplining onto a HYDRA supply train. He finds his landing easy and the fight goes fine until everything takes a left turn and he ends up being flung from the train. There's not much to think about in those terrifying moments - God, his family, Steve, Natalia all go by in a rush.
Then everything is cold. The next thing he remembers is a German voice saying his name over and over, a few others performing a brutal surgery with no anesthetic that he can tell. Somehow, his body takes it. Over and over, the same words. He thinks they might be Russian. He doesn't know what to think or who he is. He simply exists, now, and there's only wake and sleep and pain and the same table he's strapped on for all of it.
Numbness was, by now, a welcome relief. Because to be otherwise was to hurt, to ache, and she'd had far too many months of that. It was easier to pretend, wasn't it? But somehow, the lines had become blurred and the grief she still felt wasn't just contrived for appearances sake.
She still sobbed herself to sleep every night after lights-out; she still refused to even entertain the idea of getting involved with anyone else (despite all of Stark and Carter's gentle urging), and she still soldiered on with her own goddamned mission, uncaring that she was single-handedly jeopardizing the fate of the entire world with her random little messages, sent here and there.
But one iron-hard fact remained: he was dead. James B. Barnes, killed in action during a retrieval mission in the Swiss Alps, falling to his death from several hundred feet along the mountain. Rogers and the other Howling Commandos hadn't been the only ones to take that failure like a hammer-blow. Bless him, Captain Rogers had tried to comfort her, to help her move along with her grief so he'd have a reason to deal with his own, but she'd refused any and all placations, preferring to throw herself into her work - clandestine as it was.
Then, perhaps eighteen months later - and the misery of loss no less sharp than it had been - she received a summons. Dropping her Allied guise was child's play, and in less than twenty-four hours, Natalia Romanova was entering a secluded HYDRA facility deep in the Siberian wasteland, reporting directly to Colonel Vassily Karpov, who received her with a look of profound annoyance, abruptly closing the file folder he'd been scanning.
"Come," was all he said, in guttural Russian, and having no other choice, HYDRA's Black Widow did so, descending further into the facility until they stepped into a large underground chamber, at the center of which stood a peculiar metal tube, hissing steam in the chill air. "Look," was the next command, but the Colonel pointed her away from the tube towards another corner, which housed a steel table upon which a body was strapped.
Almost dreading what she might see, Natalia approached the table warily, a hidden weapon at the ready, but nearly gasped aloud when she beheld the bluest eyes she'd ever before seen, and the same familiar, beloved features she'd memorized all those months ago. Her first instinct was to run to him, rip him free, and disappear, but brutal training and lethal pragmatism held her still.
But she couldn't help the smallest whisper of, "Dzheyms..." as she came to stand near the metal table, her very heart breaking as those haunted blue eyes held absolutely no recognition whatsoever.
He doesn't respond. He doesn't have a name, doesn't have anything to respond to. The redhaired woman means nothing to him other than she hasn't injected him with anything or tried to force him to do anything. She hasn't spoken to him or used those words so she is neutral for now, not an enemy.
The scientists are all enemies, though, and he eyes them warily. They hold the key to his mind and he hates it, hates every moment of it. Everything is pain and misery now and he doesn't know if there was ever a day without it.
"Who is Dzheyms?" he asks, the same cold Russian as the scientist.
Traveling with Howard Stark definitely had its perks. He owned his own plane, and was a very accomplished pilot, he was rich and had homes situated all over the world. He paid for the best wherever he went, and was generous enough with his immediate staff to share those benefits. All in all, not a bad guy to toddle about after.
On the other hand, traveling with Howard Stark could definitely be a never-ending challenge. The man was a genius, true, but with all those smarts came great leaps and gaps in customary logic and simple problem solving. Getting Howard and his entire laboratory packed and loaded for the war front had taken every ounce of Natalia's skill, levelheadedness, calm, and attention to detail.
But the plane was loaded down with as much as it could possibly hold, with even more less-requisite equipment following along by ship, to arrive a few weeks later. Natalia was thankful, at least, that Agent Peggy Carter would be flying along on this trip, as well as Colonel Phillips and the entire unit of Howling Commandos, including one Captain Steve Rogers and Sergeant James Barnes.
Good secretary that she was, she stood at the ramp of Stark's plane while Stark himself went through his pre-flight checks, and she checked off each name on her roster, smiling graciously and directing the soldiers to their seats towards the latter half of the large transport. Agent Carter had already appropriated the first set of seats near the cockpit, where Stark and the Colonel had already disappeared, and once all were on board and Jarvis had closed and locked the door, Natalia joined her with a silent smile, taking her seat and opening her briefcase to work on a few documents during the flight.
Bucky hadn't realized he'd be flying over with Stark until, well, about an hour before it happened and he's still a little stunned. He still has four photos from a photo booth tucked in the pocket of his new uniform and he feels like if he looks at Natalia directly he's going to make a goddamn fool of himself.
Instead, he dutifully walks past where Agent Carter and Natalia are working in the first set of seats and plunks down in a window seat where he's joined by Steve a moment later. Steve, too, is avoiding the front of the plane and that's easier to talk about than his own problem.
"Figured you'd be up there looking over Agent Carter's shoulder," Bucky says mildly, watching as Steve rubs the back of his neck and looks down at his boots. After a moment, though, Steve strikes back.
"Could ask you why you're avoiding Stark's personal assistant. The redhead thing is known, Buck. No one is going to be shocked if you make a pass at her." Bucky falls quiet because he's made more than a pass at Natalia Rushman and he feels like everyone has to know it with how embarrassed he is. Steve picks up the track he's laying down.
"You have made a pass at her." Bucky exhales sharply and gives Steve a sharp look.
"Unless you want me to go tell Agent Carter about how much you stare at her when she's not looking, you'll keep your mouth shut, Rogers."
Steve lifts his hands, palms up, and tries to look innocent. "Secret's safe," he says. "But they're taking a break now and she's headed straight for you, Buck."
Once Howard had reached cruising speed, he'd called Natalia up to the cockpit for a brief word, and she'd returned to share the information with Agent Carter, then the two women had shuffled through papers for a moment, until Peggy handed over a folded pamphlet with a polite nod and a brief smile. Taking it, Natalia made her way through the slightly crowded airplane, approaching the Captain and the Sergeant with a sweet, professional smile.
"Captain Rogers, Agent Carter and Colonel Phillips need a word, if you wouldn't mind?" Ever observant, she didn't miss the slight flush that stained Rogers's cheeks at the mention of Peggy, nor the look of brief but sheer panic that assailed America's Cheekbones before he nodded, gulped, and stood up, squaring his shoulders. She politely moved aside to let him pass, afterward sliding into the vacant next to her lover.
"Sergeant Barnes," she greeted politely, mainly for the benefit of Dugan and Jacques, right across the aisle. "Comfortable? It's a long flight across the Atlantic."
"You did that on purpose," Bucky says, but it doesn't have any heat behind it. "I bet there's absolutely no reason Steve needs to go up there with Peggy and you just wanted to get him out of that seat." There's the added bonus of Steve looking as embarrassed as Bucky feels and he'll ride that train for a little while. He thinks that his feelings for Natalia must be written all over his face and he doesn't want Jacques and Dugan to know about it.
Still, she's in the aisle seat and he's in the window so at least his face is a little bit blocked. "Can I do anything for you, Ms. Rushman? Need me to sign anything or uh, I don't know. I don't know what all you handle for Stark. I figured it was all legal stuff." The joke doesn't work as well when he can't find the punchline and he hates how tongue-tied he gets around her. He lowers his voice to a whisper and says his next words very deliberately.
"Ya khochu tebya, Natalia. I say that right or did I mangle it all up with my accent?"
"There is, actually." She switched a few papers on her clipboard to show him. "An aerial illustration of where you're being deployed, and Phillips wanted to go over any possible interferences with the terrain, since it'll be new to all of you. He thought Captain Rogers might have some ideas as to how to maneuver."
But she hid an impish grin, saving it just for him as she tilted her head toward his to whisper, "But you're partially right - it is adorable to see him get all flustered and shy around Peggy. She adores him, but they're both too caught up in the work to admit it."
Then she cleared her throat, straightened in her seat, and picked up her clipboard again. "Actually, I handle most of Howard's written correspondence, write his schedule, make his equipment and supply orders, remind him to eat, and run interference on any 'untoward socializing' that might crop up every now and then." Natalia rolled her eyes with a mildly exasperated sigh. "He's a genius, true, but he's still a rich playboy who's about eleven years old."
Since she was sitting on the aisle seat, Natalia slowly lowered her clipboard to her lap, held her pen in her right hand, and eased her left between their seats, covertly seeking Bucky's to thread his fingers with hers when he leaned in enough to whisper at her ear. The rush of heat those words in that voice sent coursing through her was almost a tangible thing, enough to have her breath catching and a gentle flush staining her cheeks, hidden by a sudden fall of crimson.
She shook her head, red curls gently swinging, and gave his hand a covert squeeze. "No, it sounded...good enough." Thank God she was sitting with her knees pressed tightly together. "...better than last night, moya zvezda..."
"Got a dictionary. I don't know how good it'll be, considering there's no grammar, but I can try and learn it." There's a for you left unsaid and he hopes she can pick up on it. He squeezes her hand back and wishes she could sit in this seat the whole time. Steve's gonna come back, though, and he's going to be trading his girl for his best friend.
"You wouldn't happen to have anything in that clipboard that says where I'm going, do you? They've been keeping everything locked up as far as our assignments and frankly, I'd rather know where I'm getting shot at and by who."
He knows Europe since he's on this flight and not one over the Pacific but that's about it. "I was hoping I would get deployed over here, though, and not some island in the middle of the ocean. Get some sightseeing done, right?"
Unfortunately, she couldn't just lean over and kiss those soft, sweet lips, so she settled for licking her own, hoping for a stray taste of him somewhere in her mouth. "You'll pick it up quickly," she predicted, running the pad of her thumb over the back of his hand.
But she shook her head to his next question. "That's one of the things they're discussing, up there," she told him, nodding at the front of the plane. "I do know that all of you will be in close proximity, as Stark will be supplying your weapons and ammunition himself." She held up one page, skimmed it, then let it fall again. "And all of your supplies will be coming through his lab, so the Army has to stay in close contact." At least, for now.
"All of the weaponry you'll be learning and using are prototypes. Both Howard and the Army brass are interested to know how they'll perform in the field, and whether or not mass production will be feasible." And several of those design plans were already on her docket to retrieve, but that wasn't anyone's business but her own, now was it?
Then she lowered her voice, waiting until Dugan got up from his own seat and made his way towards the rear of the plane. "But I'm personally hoping you'll be assigned to the base right across the river, James. It's only about three miles from Howard's laboratory."
Natalia lowered the telegram transcript with icy hands. She was still reeling from the news, the news that Captain Rogers' team had been ambushed just outside of Azzano, Italy. Of the names of those still missing, only one stood out in perfect, horrible clarity: SGT. JAMES B BARNES. Her knees suddenly began to wobble, and she had to stumble to a chair before she collapsed completely.
She hadn't known about this. None of her encrypted transmissions had even hinted at such a bold move. But was it very surprising? HYDRA had its tentacles in so many branches of government, military, and economies all over the world, it was almost impossible to find any given one uncorrupted by that hellish organization. And she, for all of her deadly training and unspeakable skill, was but one cog in that massive, massive wheel.
The paper suddenly crumpled in her fist, her knuckles whitening with the force of her grip.
Natalia got to her feet, brows lowered over cold green eyes as she strode for Howard's office. She slipped a small, rumpled piece of paper beneath his closed door, hearing him puttering about inside. On it, she'd hastily scrawled, Be back soon. Have business to attend to. XO--Natalie.
A quarter-hour later, she was on her way south, moving as only a ghost could - swiftly and silently. She was going to do what no one else could; what the combined might of the Allied military couldn't accomplish: she was going to infiltrate one of HYDRA's largest and most invisible bastions and retrieve those who didn't, could never belong there.
Getting captured by HYDRA had never been part of the plan.
Bucky thinks he could have managed to get through a German POW camp or an Italian one but HYDRA is a whole other beast. They've tortured him mercilessly since he's gotten here and it seems like he's someone they've pulled out special to experiment on. The scientist who has him is particularly cruel, he thinks, and he keeps getting injected with shit over and over until he ends up passing out.
Still, he's going to get out of here. He's going to get out and then he's going to come back and kill every single one of these damn HYDRA soldiers with his bare hands. He's got the war effort, he's got his family, he's got Natalie. There's a hell of a lot of reasons he's not going to die in here.
The Wehrmacht were not to be taken lightly. Hitler's elite crack unit of specialized troops, to a man they were merciless, unyielding, and absolutely ruthless. HYDRA, however, had obliterated the German garrison in northern Italy, and now held that region with an iron fist, thus denying both Allied and Axis regimes admittance into those mineral-rich mountains.
But one of their own, reared in their own facility, a product of their particular doctrine since before she could even remember, young but absolutely fearless when it came to infiltration, destabilization, and espionage, one of their very own could pass through their nets like a specter through the air, leaving not even a ripple to mark her passing. A ghost, nothing more than a whisper, leaving no trace, as silent as moonlight upon the water.
Natalia arrived at the Weapons Facility less than forty-eight hours after leaving Howard's laboratory in Switzerland, gaining entry into the compound with ridiculous ease. The soldiers here were good, yes, but they hadn't endured the level of training a Black Widow had received. The halls were quiet; only the back-up lighting was operational, as it was well after working hours. She moved like a wraith, merging with every shadow, until she reached the containment level. The logical place to look for prisoners.
She recognized Dugan and Jones, along with a few other troops she'd seen back at the Allied compound, but the one she'd come for wasn't among them. Swearing silently, she melted back into the blackness, not bothering to alert the others to presence. It wouldn't avail them much, and she still needed to keep her deep, deep cover.
"Why don't you just kill me? It's like you're lookin' for something and let me tell you, there's nothing here. Basically just an infantry man and nothing else. I don't know what to tell you. Nothing to tell."
Running his mouth has basically become Bucky's defense of choice. Eventually they'll knock him out or put him in so much pain he'll shut up but for right now, he can taunt his captors and try to get a rise out of them. He was never a bully in school but he beat up enough of them to know their style and he plays every dirty trick he has in his playbook. It's just not a lot against HYDRA.
"Why they got you experimentin' on me anyway? Didn't wanna screw up one of your Nazis? Heard you weren't so friendly with them anymore anyway."
The masked technician didn't reply, of course. He simply went about his work, recording readings on the ever-present clipboard and ignored the American's invective. He stood at the end of the stretcher upon which Barnes was strapped, and casually flicked a switch that would send more muscle-numbing serum flooding into the specimen's body. Its effect was two-fold: the first was that it thankfully silenced the man's everlasting mouth, rendering him comatose for several precious hours, and the second was that it continued its intended work of reprogramming the subject's internal workings, although it was only a bastardized version of Erskine's original formula.
A small rustle sounded at the door; the tech glanced up, then suddenly tumbled over backwards as a large electric current tore through his body and immediately fried his brain. A petite frame broke away from one of the shadows and rushed over to the man strapped upon the table, absently kicking the smoking technician out of the way.
"James," Natalia almost sobbed, tugging at the straps that held him immobile on the table. "James, look at me." She gently patted his cheek, turning his head to make him look up at her. "Moya zvezda," she managed to smile, though her eyes were glassy. "Long time no see, da?"
Bucky blinks a little and his brain isn't working because he has no idea why Natalie is inside a HYDRA prison. His brows knit as he's trying to work this out and he isn't quite sure she's actually there.
"If this is more of that injection shit, I don't appreciate it," he bites off, frowning as he tries to see if the scientist is still there pumping things into his veins. He'd gotten jabbed enough before coming overseas but at least that was for shit like cholera, not stuff that made him hallucinate.
"Don't know how you got me to see my best girl, though. I'll give you that."
While he blithered, she was busy with the machines, flicking switches and finally unplugging the lot, then it was time to get the IV's out of Bucky's skin, which took a bit of doing, but at last she had him ready to unstrap from the table. That took a bit more maneuvering, since HYDRA was overly complicated about everything, but a few minutes later, she had the body straps undone and was trying to lever her lover to his feet, grunting with the effort of his head weight.
She rolled her eyes to his protestations, but at least managed to get him sitting up and blinking at her. "James," she said sternly. "Focus. Look at me." A sharp slap across his cheek emphasized her words. "I'm not a hallucination. I'm here and I'm going to get you out. Get on your feet. We don't have a lot of time."
Minutes, if she knew any better. As soon as someone discovered the monitoring equipment to this particular room had been disabled, someone would come investigate. They had to move. Quickly.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
forties AU
He'd spotted her at Stark's expo and slipped away from his current date (going nowhere fast) and Steve (who probably needed double the chances to get a girl) and chase her through the crowd. He finds her near a booth where they're selling cheap beer and popcorn and he pushes through the crowd to sidle up alongside her.
"You know, as swell as this demonstration is and all, there's better drinks a couple blocks away. It would be an absolute disservice to not let you know about quality gin."
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But she didn't like to wander far; Howard was a rogue and a cad and sometimes an out-and-out idiot, and there was no way to know when his ass wouldn't need hauling out of the fire. Again. And it was the wishes of both her superiors and Stark's investors that their playboy genius continue to generate good press for the "American Ideal".
Mingling with the crowd was easy. Her Expo badge read "Natalie Rushman", and it had always been easy for her to assume monikers other than her own. Granted, the refreshments for this spectacle had been arranged last minute, but she'd never minded less than stellar alcohol. She was Russian, naturally. But she'd just taken a soft sip from her cup when a decidedly Brooklyn drawl hit her ear, and she became aware of a closer presence than just the crowding audience.
A pair of steel-blue eyes met hers when she turned around, crinkling over an easy, crooked smile, and for some insane reason, Natalia felt her heart rate increase just a bit. The decorations tacked to his lapel silently introduced him as "Sergeant - First Class", and the name tag above them read "BARNES". Cheap cup still resting against her lips, Natalia finally lowered it, gave her long lashes a brief flutter, and smiled right back.
"That a fact, soldier?" She absently set the cheap swill aside, propping one small hand on the edge of the kiosk's counter. "I might just have to see for myself."
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"Best gin, best dancing, and, well, I'm an upstanding guy. You'd be in good hands, Nat."
He knows the uniform helps a lot with pulling dames so he tries to use that for his advantage. "Don't know when I'm going to get my orders, either. Might be a limited time offer."
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What would it hurt?
Famous last words, as it turned out.
Yet she had to blink. "Nat?" Oh. She glanced down at her name-badge, ticking it with a fingernail, and managed to contrive a truly coquettish pout. "You have the advantage of me...officer." Which, he wasn't, but he wasn't the only smooth talker in this conversation.
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"But James is all right with me. Don't mind the name and I guess if I'm old enough to be an officer in the Army, I'm old enough to lose childhood nicknames."
He tilts his head a bit, inviting her to go with him. "Did you want to check out my promise of better drinks and the best dancing on this side of town? My treat, naturally."
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The offer did sound nice; she loved to dance and even though she'd helped arrange it, anything was better than this swill they were serving here at the symposium. Natalia gave a little glance over her shoulder, thankfully spying Jarvis standing on the edge of the stage where Howard was still "performing", keeping well out of sight of the audience but close enough to protect Howard if necessary.
So she pushed off the kiosk with a nod of her head, perfectly manicured hand reaching out to rest lightly on James's arm. "Lead the way, soldier. I'm all yours for the evening."
Literally, if everything went well.
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"Gotta recommend the gimlets they've got here," he says, hand moving to her lower back to guide her through the door. "I'm a sidecar man myself but I've had a taste and it's really good. You wanna trust me or do you want to strike out on your own, doll?"
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"I'll trust your judgment, James," "Natalie" replied with a soft smile, followed by a flirty little wink. "At least, once." Patting his arm, she rose on her toes to brush her lips across his cheek, saying, "Gotta go powder my nose, soldier. Be right back." Then she slipped away, putting perhaps a little more sway in her stride than was really necessary.
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the actual end of the line
They're high in the Alps today and ziplining onto a HYDRA supply train. He finds his landing easy and the fight goes fine until everything takes a left turn and he ends up being flung from the train. There's not much to think about in those terrifying moments - God, his family, Steve, Natalia all go by in a rush.
Then everything is cold. The next thing he remembers is a German voice saying his name over and over, a few others performing a brutal surgery with no anesthetic that he can tell. Somehow, his body takes it. Over and over, the same words. He thinks they might be Russian. He doesn't know what to think or who he is. He simply exists, now, and there's only wake and sleep and pain and the same table he's strapped on for all of it.
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She still sobbed herself to sleep every night after lights-out; she still refused to even entertain the idea of getting involved with anyone else (despite all of Stark and Carter's gentle urging), and she still soldiered on with her own goddamned mission, uncaring that she was single-handedly jeopardizing the fate of the entire world with her random little messages, sent here and there.
But one iron-hard fact remained: he was dead. James B. Barnes, killed in action during a retrieval mission in the Swiss Alps, falling to his death from several hundred feet along the mountain. Rogers and the other Howling Commandos hadn't been the only ones to take that failure like a hammer-blow. Bless him, Captain Rogers had tried to comfort her, to help her move along with her grief so he'd have a reason to deal with his own, but she'd refused any and all placations, preferring to throw herself into her work - clandestine as it was.
Then, perhaps eighteen months later - and the misery of loss no less sharp than it had been - she received a summons. Dropping her Allied guise was child's play, and in less than twenty-four hours, Natalia Romanova was entering a secluded HYDRA facility deep in the Siberian wasteland, reporting directly to Colonel Vassily Karpov, who received her with a look of profound annoyance, abruptly closing the file folder he'd been scanning.
"Come," was all he said, in guttural Russian, and having no other choice, HYDRA's Black Widow did so, descending further into the facility until they stepped into a large underground chamber, at the center of which stood a peculiar metal tube, hissing steam in the chill air. "Look," was the next command, but the Colonel pointed her away from the tube towards another corner, which housed a steel table upon which a body was strapped.
Almost dreading what she might see, Natalia approached the table warily, a hidden weapon at the ready, but nearly gasped aloud when she beheld the bluest eyes she'd ever before seen, and the same familiar, beloved features she'd memorized all those months ago. Her first instinct was to run to him, rip him free, and disappear, but brutal training and lethal pragmatism held her still.
But she couldn't help the smallest whisper of, "Dzheyms..." as she came to stand near the metal table, her very heart breaking as those haunted blue eyes held absolutely no recognition whatsoever.
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The scientists are all enemies, though, and he eyes them warily. They hold the key to his mind and he hates it, hates every moment of it. Everything is pain and misery now and he doesn't know if there was ever a day without it.
"Who is Dzheyms?" he asks, the same cold Russian as the scientist.
II - Germany
On the other hand, traveling with Howard Stark could definitely be a never-ending challenge. The man was a genius, true, but with all those smarts came great leaps and gaps in customary logic and simple problem solving. Getting Howard and his entire laboratory packed and loaded for the war front had taken every ounce of Natalia's skill, levelheadedness, calm, and attention to detail.
But the plane was loaded down with as much as it could possibly hold, with even more less-requisite equipment following along by ship, to arrive a few weeks later. Natalia was thankful, at least, that Agent Peggy Carter would be flying along on this trip, as well as Colonel Phillips and the entire unit of Howling Commandos, including one Captain Steve Rogers and Sergeant James Barnes.
Good secretary that she was, she stood at the ramp of Stark's plane while Stark himself went through his pre-flight checks, and she checked off each name on her roster, smiling graciously and directing the soldiers to their seats towards the latter half of the large transport. Agent Carter had already appropriated the first set of seats near the cockpit, where Stark and the Colonel had already disappeared, and once all were on board and Jarvis had closed and locked the door, Natalia joined her with a silent smile, taking her seat and opening her briefcase to work on a few documents during the flight.
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Instead, he dutifully walks past where Agent Carter and Natalia are working in the first set of seats and plunks down in a window seat where he's joined by Steve a moment later. Steve, too, is avoiding the front of the plane and that's easier to talk about than his own problem.
"Figured you'd be up there looking over Agent Carter's shoulder," Bucky says mildly, watching as Steve rubs the back of his neck and looks down at his boots. After a moment, though, Steve strikes back.
"Could ask you why you're avoiding Stark's personal assistant. The redhead thing is known, Buck. No one is going to be shocked if you make a pass at her." Bucky falls quiet because he's made more than a pass at Natalia Rushman and he feels like everyone has to know it with how embarrassed he is. Steve picks up the track he's laying down.
"You have made a pass at her." Bucky exhales sharply and gives Steve a sharp look.
"Unless you want me to go tell Agent Carter about how much you stare at her when she's not looking, you'll keep your mouth shut, Rogers."
Steve lifts his hands, palms up, and tries to look innocent. "Secret's safe," he says. "But they're taking a break now and she's headed straight for you, Buck."
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"Captain Rogers, Agent Carter and Colonel Phillips need a word, if you wouldn't mind?" Ever observant, she didn't miss the slight flush that stained Rogers's cheeks at the mention of Peggy, nor the look of brief but sheer panic that assailed America's Cheekbones before he nodded, gulped, and stood up, squaring his shoulders. She politely moved aside to let him pass, afterward sliding into the vacant next to her lover.
"Sergeant Barnes," she greeted politely, mainly for the benefit of Dugan and Jacques, right across the aisle. "Comfortable? It's a long flight across the Atlantic."
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Still, she's in the aisle seat and he's in the window so at least his face is a little bit blocked. "Can I do anything for you, Ms. Rushman? Need me to sign anything or uh, I don't know. I don't know what all you handle for Stark. I figured it was all legal stuff." The joke doesn't work as well when he can't find the punchline and he hates how tongue-tied he gets around her. He lowers his voice to a whisper and says his next words very deliberately.
"Ya khochu tebya, Natalia. I say that right or did I mangle it all up with my accent?"
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But she hid an impish grin, saving it just for him as she tilted her head toward his to whisper, "But you're partially right - it is adorable to see him get all flustered and shy around Peggy. She adores him, but they're both too caught up in the work to admit it."
Then she cleared her throat, straightened in her seat, and picked up her clipboard again. "Actually, I handle most of Howard's written correspondence, write his schedule, make his equipment and supply orders, remind him to eat, and run interference on any 'untoward socializing' that might crop up every now and then." Natalia rolled her eyes with a mildly exasperated sigh. "He's a genius, true, but he's still a rich playboy who's about eleven years old."
Since she was sitting on the aisle seat, Natalia slowly lowered her clipboard to her lap, held her pen in her right hand, and eased her left between their seats, covertly seeking Bucky's to thread his fingers with hers when he leaned in enough to whisper at her ear. The rush of heat those words in that voice sent coursing through her was almost a tangible thing, enough to have her breath catching and a gentle flush staining her cheeks, hidden by a sudden fall of crimson.
She shook her head, red curls gently swinging, and gave his hand a covert squeeze. "No, it sounded...good enough." Thank God she was sitting with her knees pressed tightly together. "...better than last night, moya zvezda..."
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"You wouldn't happen to have anything in that clipboard that says where I'm going, do you? They've been keeping everything locked up as far as our assignments and frankly, I'd rather know where I'm getting shot at and by who."
He knows Europe since he's on this flight and not one over the Pacific but that's about it. "I was hoping I would get deployed over here, though, and not some island in the middle of the ocean. Get some sightseeing done, right?"
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But she shook her head to his next question. "That's one of the things they're discussing, up there," she told him, nodding at the front of the plane. "I do know that all of you will be in close proximity, as Stark will be supplying your weapons and ammunition himself." She held up one page, skimmed it, then let it fall again. "And all of your supplies will be coming through his lab, so the Army has to stay in close contact." At least, for now.
"All of the weaponry you'll be learning and using are prototypes. Both Howard and the Army brass are interested to know how they'll perform in the field, and whether or not mass production will be feasible." And several of those design plans were already on her docket to retrieve, but that wasn't anyone's business but her own, now was it?
Then she lowered her voice, waiting until Dugan got up from his own seat and made his way towards the rear of the plane. "But I'm personally hoping you'll be assigned to the base right across the river, James. It's only about three miles from Howard's laboratory."
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no subject
She hadn't known about this. None of her encrypted transmissions had even hinted at such a bold move. But was it very surprising? HYDRA had its tentacles in so many branches of government, military, and economies all over the world, it was almost impossible to find any given one uncorrupted by that hellish organization. And she, for all of her deadly training and unspeakable skill, was but one cog in that massive, massive wheel.
The paper suddenly crumpled in her fist, her knuckles whitening with the force of her grip.
Natalia got to her feet, brows lowered over cold green eyes as she strode for Howard's office. She slipped a small, rumpled piece of paper beneath his closed door, hearing him puttering about inside. On it, she'd hastily scrawled, Be back soon. Have business to attend to. XO--Natalie.
A quarter-hour later, she was on her way south, moving as only a ghost could - swiftly and silently. She was going to do what no one else could; what the combined might of the Allied military couldn't accomplish: she was going to infiltrate one of HYDRA's largest and most invisible bastions and retrieve those who didn't, could never belong there.
And she was going to do it alone.
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Bucky thinks he could have managed to get through a German POW camp or an Italian one but HYDRA is a whole other beast. They've tortured him mercilessly since he's gotten here and it seems like he's someone they've pulled out special to experiment on. The scientist who has him is particularly cruel, he thinks, and he keeps getting injected with shit over and over until he ends up passing out.
Still, he's going to get out of here. He's going to get out and then he's going to come back and kill every single one of these damn HYDRA soldiers with his bare hands. He's got the war effort, he's got his family, he's got Natalie. There's a hell of a lot of reasons he's not going to die in here.
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But one of their own, reared in their own facility, a product of their particular doctrine since before she could even remember, young but absolutely fearless when it came to infiltration, destabilization, and espionage, one of their very own could pass through their nets like a specter through the air, leaving not even a ripple to mark her passing. A ghost, nothing more than a whisper, leaving no trace, as silent as moonlight upon the water.
Natalia arrived at the Weapons Facility less than forty-eight hours after leaving Howard's laboratory in Switzerland, gaining entry into the compound with ridiculous ease. The soldiers here were good, yes, but they hadn't endured the level of training a Black Widow had received. The halls were quiet; only the back-up lighting was operational, as it was well after working hours. She moved like a wraith, merging with every shadow, until she reached the containment level. The logical place to look for prisoners.
She recognized Dugan and Jones, along with a few other troops she'd seen back at the Allied compound, but the one she'd come for wasn't among them. Swearing silently, she melted back into the blackness, not bothering to alert the others to presence. It wouldn't avail them much, and she still needed to keep her deep, deep cover.
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Running his mouth has basically become Bucky's defense of choice. Eventually they'll knock him out or put him in so much pain he'll shut up but for right now, he can taunt his captors and try to get a rise out of them. He was never a bully in school but he beat up enough of them to know their style and he plays every dirty trick he has in his playbook. It's just not a lot against HYDRA.
"Why they got you experimentin' on me anyway? Didn't wanna screw up one of your Nazis? Heard you weren't so friendly with them anymore anyway."
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A small rustle sounded at the door; the tech glanced up, then suddenly tumbled over backwards as a large electric current tore through his body and immediately fried his brain. A petite frame broke away from one of the shadows and rushed over to the man strapped upon the table, absently kicking the smoking technician out of the way.
"James," Natalia almost sobbed, tugging at the straps that held him immobile on the table. "James, look at me." She gently patted his cheek, turning his head to make him look up at her. "Moya zvezda," she managed to smile, though her eyes were glassy. "Long time no see, da?"
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"If this is more of that injection shit, I don't appreciate it," he bites off, frowning as he tries to see if the scientist is still there pumping things into his veins. He'd gotten jabbed enough before coming overseas but at least that was for shit like cholera, not stuff that made him hallucinate.
"Don't know how you got me to see my best girl, though. I'll give you that."
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She rolled her eyes to his protestations, but at least managed to get him sitting up and blinking at her. "James," she said sternly. "Focus. Look at me." A sharp slap across his cheek emphasized her words. "I'm not a hallucination. I'm here and I'm going to get you out. Get on your feet. We don't have a lot of time."
Minutes, if she knew any better. As soon as someone discovered the monitoring equipment to this particular room had been disabled, someone would come investigate. They had to move. Quickly.
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