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.
Bucky personally thinks no powdering of her nose is needed because Natalie is probably one of the most beautiful women he's ever seen. He orders drinks for the both of them, the aforementioned gimlets, and he drums his fingers idly on the table while he waits for her to wind her way back to him.
He's a little nervous about this girl, which is new. He's never had trouble pulling women, never had an awkward phase, and being turned upside down by this one is a new experience.
He's also not sure what it means. They've barely spoken but he feels enough of a connection to want more than just a romp and a goodbye kiss and he's about to get orders. It's not smart.
In the ladies room, Natalia touched up her makeup, mostly for show of the other women also doing the same thing, waiting until she was alone before pulling a small device out of her clutch and activating it. A few coded phrases and she powered it off and put it back into her purse; there. All was well, Jarvis would take Howard back to the hotel after the Expo, and he knew not to expect her until tomorrow morning's meetings.
She had the entire night, as it were, off. And, since fortune favored the bold, she had a pretty good idea of how she planned to spend it.
Making her way back through the small crowd, over to the table where her handsome soldier now sat, drinks waiting, Natalia gave a brief moment's consideration for the wisdom of this course. But surely it wasn't that much of a risk; he was sure to be shipping off overseas in a few days, da? She'd never see him again after tonight. So. Problem solved.
Approaching the table with a smile, it suddenly faltered and Natalia felt her heart skip a beat when she saw James look up, see her, and those eyes lit up brighter than one of Stark's magnified beams as he all but leapt to his feet to hold her chair. She managed not to fall right into it, but took a sip of smooth gin to regain her momentary loss of composure.
"Your nose looks just about as perfect as it did when you went in, sweetheart. No need to lay it on thick for me. I already like what I'm seeing, I promise," he teases. Really, he's wondering if he's not a little in over his head and he takes a quick sip from his drink to try and steady his nerves. This isn't like picking up girls in the neighborhood and showing them a good time. This one seems like she knows a hell of a lot more than he does and that she'll keep him guessing.
"So, what brings you down my way? Are you from New York, Natalie Rushman? Or just visiting to see the Expo. Once in a lifetime trip, or so they claim. It's kind of my thing but my buddy is way more into it. I'm more into watching the stars."
Steve likes them too, to be sure, but it's Bucky who is always looking up and trying to name them all.
The drinks were very good. Smooth and cold, just how she preferred them. Natalia took another sip, leaving a faint smudge of lipstick on the edge of the glass. She smiled at his tease over the rim, giving him a saucy glance in return, but answered with a small shrug instead.
"No, I'm not a local. And the Expo was absolutely thrilling, I have to say. Stark's a genius, a true man before his time." ...along with a bunch of other colorful anecdotes she could share, but really. Then she giggled. "Although I did have an idea his flying car wasn't really going to work, that just seemed too out of this world!"
Giving another sweet little laugh, Natalia took another drink, placing the glass on the table and resting her open hand beside it. An invitation, of sorts.
"Have you studied much astrology, Officer Barnes? Must be hard to even see the stars over in, where is it, Manhattan? Queens?" Brooklyn, she knew by his accent, but she'd been taught how to be the perfect chameleon. Hiding in plain sight.
"I know a heavenly body when I see one," he says. "But doll, if you think I'm from Manhattan, the US Army's made me look a hell of a lot more classy than I actually am. I'm a Brooklyn boy."
"Brooklyn? I never would have guessed." Natalia picked up her glass, it by now half empty. But she really didn't need to have a fuzzy head tonight, although a little fuzzy wouldn't be too bad, she supposed. This James Barnes made it unfairly easy, with his slanted smile and bright eyes, boyish charm just oozing out of every single pore.
"Oh, me?" Damn, and she thought she'd turned that question aside relatively well. "Up the coast a ways, a little place that used to be famous for its crab fishing." She smiled, tapping her nails on the table. "But, it got really boring, so I set out for the big city, and, well, here I am."
"Lived here all my life," Bucky says, more than a little proud of the fact. He gives her a quick once-over and while it looks like Natalie's adapted pretty well to life here, he wants to offer help if he can; besides, it's a reason to keep seeing her.
"If you ever need help or anything, I can give you my number. Just had it hooked up recently. Plymouth 1918. Can't promise I'll always be there, or anything, but my buddy Steve's good at taking messages."
She could absolutely intuit that he'd been born and raised here, the man practically screamed Brooklynite. But beneath his flirty charm, she could sense an innate goodness, a true desire to help despite whatever odds. And truthfully, that both unnerved her and attracted her more all at the same damned time.
"I'll remember," she promised. Then she tilted her head, brows drawing together in amused puzzlement. "But aren't you shipping out soon?" Perfectly painted nails flashed as she gestured to his uniform. "Can't imagine they'd keep such a strapping officer like you out of the action for too long, right?"
Which was...a sobering thought, when she paused to consider it. But, pretense had to be kept. Natalia sipped at her drink, lowering her lashes slightly. "Might even miss you, if it comes to that."
"Might miss me? I'm not doing a good enough job if it's only a maybe." Bucky finishes his drink and reaches across the table to touch her hand. It's just a brush of his fingers against the back of it for now but he hopes she'll be open to a little more and just trust him.
He also hopes Steve doesn't come home tonight.
"Where are you staying right now? Got a permanent place or are you staying in a hotel somewhere? You're only a true New Yorker when you throw it in and decide that being shoulder to shoulder with the entire world is exactly the place you wanna be."
"Well," Natalia flirted right back, "I just met you, so." The waitress came by with another round of drinks, and Natasha eyed hers a little warily before deciding what the hell. James then reached over and she felt his fingertips touch the back of her hand, hers turning over beneath his and their fingers just seeming to thread right together, no questions asked.
She gave another little shrug. "Oh, I'm staying with a friend, for right now. It's nice, I guess, but it does get a little boring, sometimes. She goes to school and waitresses at a cafe down the block from our place." Her fingernails gently pressed into the back of his hand, and she unconsciously scooted her chair a little further around the table, getting...closer.
"Hopefully I'll have my own place before too long. It'll be nice to have somewhere that isn't...crowded."
"Know what you mean. I love Steve, he's my best friend, but sometimes you want your own place to --"
Bucky stops short because he was about to say bring a dame home and show her a good time and for some reason he doesn't think a line like that is going to work on Natalie. She's got a mystery about her, something in those green cat-eyes that she's not telling him, and he wonders what it'd take to get a girl like her.
"Just for the peace and quiet. I'm sure you understand."
She knew what he meant. And she did, in point of fact, have a place of her own - Stark paid her a very generous salary - but there was no way she could ever let this handsome soldier see the inside of it. A thought which was...quite disappointing when she pondered it.
So she nodded, her small half-smile firmly in place, then took another sip of smooth gin and ice, casting a sidelong gaze to the dance floor, where a few couples diligently spun and twirled. The music was actually very good, and talk was getting a little...heavy.
"Say, soldier, didn't you promise me something to do with dancing? Wanna make good on that?"
"I did promise dancing," Bucky agrees. He takes her hand and leads her out to the floor, glad that the band playing tonight obliges them with something fast to start out with. He's been Lindy Hopping since before he was steady on his own two feet and his older sisters and Ma had made sure he could waltz and foxtrot and everything else.
"Older sisters," he explains, "Means you learn how to dance well and pick up on it quick. I was always the guinea pig. You mind doing any lifts? Better to know before I start flipping you around."
She'd learned to dance before she'd even learned how to properly walk. And her training had also included each and every style of "American dance", including ballroom and swing. So she followed this handsome soldier out onto the floor, twirling into his arms with fluid ease and laughed to his innocent query.
"I know how to dance, James," she assured him. "You can toss me around however you like, I don't mind." The music was sharp and fast, getting into her feet, and Natalia didn't hesitate to spin on her toes, skirt flaring out with the movement and she let him pull her into a rhythm, letting just a little more of her guard down.
Dancing with a good partner is something Bucky has always enjoyed and damn if Natalie Rushman hadn't learned how to dance in her small town. He thinks she must have picked up more than a few things here in the city, too, seeing as how she moved with ease even when he started improvising steps to make the dance flashier than it normally was.
He guides her into a complicated flip, holding his right arm out straight so he can toss her over it with the left. As soon as he's done that, he pulls her up close and swings her around his back. She has strength too, though, because he can feel how she pushes on his shoulder in the swing and she's not a flimsy gal.
He thinks he might be in love if she keeps impressing him.
When the band segues into a slower song, he pulls her close and tucks her beneath his chin.
"You know, Nat, I've never met anyone who could keep up with me dancing. I usually out-dance any of the girls I meet and you completely showed me up. It's almost like you invented it."
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.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
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."
no subject
"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."
no subject
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.
no subject
"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."
no subject
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.
no subject
"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?"
no subject
"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.
no subject
He's a little nervous about this girl, which is new. He's never had trouble pulling women, never had an awkward phase, and being turned upside down by this one is a new experience.
He's also not sure what it means. They've barely spoken but he feels enough of a connection to want more than just a romp and a goodbye kiss and he's about to get orders. It's not smart.
no subject
She had the entire night, as it were, off. And, since fortune favored the bold, she had a pretty good idea of how she planned to spend it.
Making her way back through the small crowd, over to the table where her handsome soldier now sat, drinks waiting, Natalia gave a brief moment's consideration for the wisdom of this course. But surely it wasn't that much of a risk; he was sure to be shipping off overseas in a few days, da? She'd never see him again after tonight. So. Problem solved.
Approaching the table with a smile, it suddenly faltered and Natalia felt her heart skip a beat when she saw James look up, see her, and those eyes lit up brighter than one of Stark's magnified beams as he all but leapt to his feet to hold her chair. She managed not to fall right into it, but took a sip of smooth gin to regain her momentary loss of composure.
Oh, hell.
no subject
"So, what brings you down my way? Are you from New York, Natalie Rushman? Or just visiting to see the Expo. Once in a lifetime trip, or so they claim. It's kind of my thing but my buddy is way more into it. I'm more into watching the stars."
Steve likes them too, to be sure, but it's Bucky who is always looking up and trying to name them all.
no subject
"No, I'm not a local. And the Expo was absolutely thrilling, I have to say. Stark's a genius, a true man before his time." ...along with a bunch of other colorful anecdotes she could share, but really. Then she giggled. "Although I did have an idea his flying car wasn't really going to work, that just seemed too out of this world!"
Giving another sweet little laugh, Natalia took another drink, placing the glass on the table and resting her open hand beside it. An invitation, of sorts.
"Have you studied much astrology, Officer Barnes? Must be hard to even see the stars over in, where is it, Manhattan? Queens?" Brooklyn, she knew by his accent, but she'd been taught how to be the perfect chameleon. Hiding in plain sight.
no subject
He flashes her a brilliant smile.
"Where are you from?"
no subject
"Oh, me?" Damn, and she thought she'd turned that question aside relatively well. "Up the coast a ways, a little place that used to be famous for its crab fishing." She smiled, tapping her nails on the table. "But, it got really boring, so I set out for the big city, and, well, here I am."
no subject
"If you ever need help or anything, I can give you my number. Just had it hooked up recently. Plymouth 1918. Can't promise I'll always be there, or anything, but my buddy Steve's good at taking messages."
no subject
"I'll remember," she promised. Then she tilted her head, brows drawing together in amused puzzlement. "But aren't you shipping out soon?" Perfectly painted nails flashed as she gestured to his uniform. "Can't imagine they'd keep such a strapping officer like you out of the action for too long, right?"
Which was...a sobering thought, when she paused to consider it. But, pretense had to be kept. Natalia sipped at her drink, lowering her lashes slightly. "Might even miss you, if it comes to that."
no subject
He also hopes Steve doesn't come home tonight.
"Where are you staying right now? Got a permanent place or are you staying in a hotel somewhere? You're only a true New Yorker when you throw it in and decide that being shoulder to shoulder with the entire world is exactly the place you wanna be."
no subject
She gave another little shrug. "Oh, I'm staying with a friend, for right now. It's nice, I guess, but it does get a little boring, sometimes. She goes to school and waitresses at a cafe down the block from our place." Her fingernails gently pressed into the back of his hand, and she unconsciously scooted her chair a little further around the table, getting...closer.
"Hopefully I'll have my own place before too long. It'll be nice to have somewhere that isn't...crowded."
no subject
Bucky stops short because he was about to say bring a dame home and show her a good time and for some reason he doesn't think a line like that is going to work on Natalie. She's got a mystery about her, something in those green cat-eyes that she's not telling him, and he wonders what it'd take to get a girl like her.
"Just for the peace and quiet. I'm sure you understand."
no subject
So she nodded, her small half-smile firmly in place, then took another sip of smooth gin and ice, casting a sidelong gaze to the dance floor, where a few couples diligently spun and twirled. The music was actually very good, and talk was getting a little...heavy.
"Say, soldier, didn't you promise me something to do with dancing? Wanna make good on that?"
no subject
"Older sisters," he explains, "Means you learn how to dance well and pick up on it quick. I was always the guinea pig. You mind doing any lifts? Better to know before I start flipping you around."
no subject
"I know how to dance, James," she assured him. "You can toss me around however you like, I don't mind." The music was sharp and fast, getting into her feet, and Natalia didn't hesitate to spin on her toes, skirt flaring out with the movement and she let him pull her into a rhythm, letting just a little more of her guard down.
no subject
He guides her into a complicated flip, holding his right arm out straight so he can toss her over it with the left. As soon as he's done that, he pulls her up close and swings her around his back. She has strength too, though, because he can feel how she pushes on his shoulder in the swing and she's not a flimsy gal.
He thinks he might be in love if she keeps impressing him.
When the band segues into a slower song, he pulls her close and tucks her beneath his chin.
"You know, Nat, I've never met anyone who could keep up with me dancing. I usually out-dance any of the girls I meet and you completely showed me up. It's almost like you invented it."
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.