Work Text:
A period of darkness, and then light.
Unlike the others who were scrambling to get their footing back after losing five years of their lives to dust, for Bucky it felt like any other time he was woken up from cryostasis. Except this time he had his memories in tact. This time he was returning as himself.
He was hurled straight into battle with no time to breathe, no time to ask questions, and no time to do a headcount of the people on the team. He settled in easily, the gun he'd borrowed served its purpose, his training kicking in immediately. During times like this, he wondered if he was born for chaos since he blended into it so naturally. Being the Winter Soldier, as much as he hated how he was used, was something he was good at.
Once the dust settled and goodbyes were bid, Bucky finally got to breathe, to sit down, to realize what was lost during the war. He never got to talk to Tony Stark again, the ghost of his parents looming over Bucky's shoulder at his funeral. You'd think that after all the conditioning and brainwashing, he'd forget Howard's voice but it haunts him just like the other voices he's silenced over the years.
And then there was her. The redheaded woman. She was the last person he saw before he faded away. That was an ongoing theme with them, wasn't it? Bucky didn't ask-- couldn't . Her ghost loomed over all of their shoulders, her absence felt as the team recovered. Steve tried to say something about her during Stark's funeral, Banner as well. He overheard Barton talking about it to Sam, a familiar feeling of regret and pain in his voice as he tried to make sense of the fact that she was gone.
She was gone.
The redheaded woman he called Natalia. The Black Widow. The Red Room's pride and joy. The girl he's had to break over and over again during training to better hone her skills, to mold her into the most efficient weapon the Soviets have ever created. Someone he knew. Someone who, once upon a time, he cared for deeply. Loved , even, if he let himself go that far. His memories with her were hazy, distorted from years of electricity and ice. But when he found her again that day in Wakanda, his chest was filled with an overwhelming sense of familiarity. Every atom in his body was begging for him to touch her, to check if she was real, to speak about the time when all they had were whispers in the dark.
But he never got to, never even tried to talk to her outside of the mission. Gone forever.
That is until Steve went back and returned with a redheaded woman in his arms on that platform in the woods. She was unconscious, skin pale and cold. The doctors were of no use, unable to tell them what was wrong with her. The Maximoff girl tried to use her magic to no avail. Barton wouldn't even go near her, too scared that she'd break if he stepped foot anywhere near the sleeping Avenger. Out of shame, perhaps? Out of guilt?
Bucky would sneak into her room in the middle of the night when no one else was there and just watch her in silence. He'd leave the light turned off, shrouded in darkness with only the steady beep of the monitor filling the room. Even in the darkness, he could make out some of her features. The red hair that faded into blonde tips, the shape of her nose, her lips, the rise and fall of her chest. She was alive, at least, and for that he was thankful.
"Time travel must suck," he commented quietly, sitting in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. "I heard you jumped off a cliff. That's really stupid, Natalia. I taught you better than that."
All he got was silence, which he already expected, but still he talked. He'd sneak in and talk about any and every thing. One time he talked to her about how Steve has decided to retire and how Sam was taking on the shield. Another time, he talked to her about a dream he had and told her that she needed to confirm if it was a memory or not. He'd talk to her in Russian, in French, in all of the languages he knew. Always in the dark, never when there were other people there.
"Beds here are too big, too soft." He shared once. It's been a couple of weeks since she's been returned unconscious and it didn't look like she was waking up any time soon. He's been visiting less although not by choice. He's been recruited to work with the Avengers to restore order. Half of the universe returning caused a lot of problems and they needed all the help they could get.
"I don't even know if you remember me." Bucky sighed and let his head rest on the space beside where her hand rested on her side. "Я скучаю по тебе, Наталия."
Her steady breathing and the shallow beat of her heart was enough of a response for him. It's what he took with him to missions, what he thought of in his moments of silence. Sometimes he'd have dreams, recollections of the memories they've shared in the past. He'd look at Sam or Steve or even Sharon and contemplate on whether or not he could share any of it with them. No , he thinks, she wouldn't like that .
So he keeps it in his chest and carries it around with him--the memories, the sound of her laughter, the feeling of her skin against his, the feelings she roused within him. It was a wonder how someone like her even gave someone like him the time of day. He was a puppet, a man with no name, an attack dog. And she was... everything. A beacon of light.
The compound was still and quiet when he got home with Sam from a mission that took them a couple of weeks to pursue. He was tired and all he wanted was to crash and sleep for the next couple of days but instead of his room, his feet led him to Natalia's quarters. He sighed in front of the door before sliding it open only to find her bed empty, the monitors put away. Panic overtook him, eyes frantic trying to figure out what had happened and why no one bothered to call him and Sam about it. He was about to leave to get his answers when the door that led to the bathroom opened.
And there she was.
Natalia was still in her pajamas but she was no longer pale and her eyes were open, boring into his. Without another word, he met her halfway and enveloped her in his arms, burying his face in her hair. She smelled vaguely of shampoo and fastfood and it was a miracle that Bucky's heart wasn't on the floor with how heavy it felt in his chest.
"Took you long enough to recognize me," she said, voice muffled against his shirt.
Bucky pulled back and let her go, realizing it was probably inappropriate to be holding her. He muttered an apology and scratched the back of his neck, avoiding her eyes. However, she took a step forward and reached for his face, prompting him to look back at her. There was a small smile on her face. From this distance, he spotted familiar freckles on her nose, the green of her eyes catching him instantly. "Natalia..."
Her hand was soft against his face, thumb stroking his cheek. "Я тоже скучал по тебе, солдат."