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Part 4 of Forging New Ground
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Published:
2015-03-02
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2015-05-05
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3/?
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The Walk

Summary:

What was Bucky thinking? What is Darcy going to do? Are Tony and JARVIS really going to take revenge? Will Cap use his disappointed face? And for heaven's sake, what on earth did Natasha say?
Here is where you'll finally get the answers to the questions you've been asking.

Sequel to 'Against Expectations.'

Notes:

The title is inspired by the song 'The Walk' by Imogen Heap. I figured it fit the tone of what I had planned for this fic pretty well.

HEY! If you haven't read 'Against Expectations' yet, go read it now. Otherwise, you're really missing out.

Chapter 1: Inside Out (You and I Were Never Meant to Meet)

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

James carefully surveyed the set of rooms he had been assigned.  They were richly decorated, but very sparse and impersonal.  He would have to change the layout in order to make the room tactically sound, and while he did that he could inspect the furniture to see which pieces would be versatile enough to conceal weapons in case of emergency.  The cupboard space in the kitchenette seemed to hold a lot of potential in that regard.  He would also have to do a sweep for bugs, but otherwise his new quarters seemed serviceable enough.  It would also, he thought, be necessary to scope out the rest of this floor and the ones directly above and below.  Especially Steve’s quarters, which were the only other occupied rooms on this floor.  That punk was too idealistic for his own good.

Looked like he had a busy morning ahead of him.

 

 

****

 

 

Blocked Number

Come down to the gym and spar with me.  —NR

James Barnes

No.

Blocked Number

Please? :)

James Barnes

No.  Ask Steve.

Blocked Number

He went out.  Look, you’ve been up there since you got here.

Blocked Number

You’ve missed lunch already.  You need a break.

James Barnes

No gym clothes.

Blocked Number

Stark has extras in the changing rooms.

James Barnes

 Ok. Ready in 15.

Blocked Number

Awesome. :)

 

 

****

 

 

Sure enough, there were spare clothes in the changing room.  Stark really did have too much money.  James dressed quickly, pulling his hair back before he went into the large gym.  To his surprise, Natasha was not the only one present.  There was a girl there, and she stared at him as he approached.  That was to be expected.  A shiny metal arm and a dangerous reputation did not exactly make it easy to remain inconspicuous.  He examined her in return.  Simple, casual clothing that hid her body shape, dark messy hair, and glasses.  She was probably not much of a threat, but he kept an eye on her just in case.

And then she opened her mouth and said, “For somebody so supposedly dangerous, you look really adorable.”

At that moment his entire focus narrowed down to one point—the girl.  Before he had once wondered what kind of dame would say his words,  but when he became the Winter Soldier he gave those thoughts up, (when he did think).  It was far more likely that he had met his soulmate and then given her a farewell.  He never would have guessed she would still be out there, and possessed the nerve to call the Winter Soldier cute.  Normally people would try to leave the room as soon as they saw them.  It was a wise choice on their part.  This broad, though….

“You always this reckless?” he asked.  He hoped she normally made better choices.  She looked so defenseless, and he had so many enemies.  How could he protect her?  Steve was one matter, but her….

The girl’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open.  “Ohmigod!” she shouted as she pointed at James.  “You’re my soulmate!”

She was so vibrant, so full of life.  He would hate to be the cause for the end of it.  And he could not bear that thought.  He shook his head in frustration, knowing what he had to do.  “No,” he said.  “I refuse.”

At this, the girl’s eyes widened further.  She bit her lip, obviously upset, and whispered, “But you don’t even know me….”  And he never would know her, James thought.  He never could.  She spoke again, more desperately.  “Why?  If you really are my soulmate, why?”

He could not look at her then.  “I can’t be your soulmate,” he responded, his voice pained.  Even if Hydra did not end her, then James—no, the Winter Soldier—would.  The girl did not seem to understand this however.  She whirled and ran to the elevator.

It was at this moment that Natasha spoke up.  “Я знаю, у вас есть проблемы, Джеймс, но я не думаю, что глупость был одним из них!” she hissed.

He explained, “Онамишенью.”

“Она твоя родственная душа!” countered Natasha.

James met her gaze, his jaw clenched.  “И я буду защищать ее.”

“По причиняет ей боль?!”

He hesitated before nodding.  “Если я должен.”

Natasha’s eyes hardened.  “И думать, что я собираюсь идти легко на вас сегодня,” she said, voice filled with scorn.

Notes:

Not much, I know. But I just wanted to reassure everybody that, hey, there is a sequel! And this way, you still have time to make requests. So request away! And please, feel free to ask questions.

Translation Guide According to Google Translate:
N: I know you have problems, James, but I didn't think stupidity was one of them! Я знаю, у вас есть проблемы , Джеймс , но я не думаю, что глупость был одним из них ! B: She’s a target. Онамишенью. N: She’s your soulmate! Она твоя родственная душа ! B: And I will protect her. И я буду защищать ее . N: By hurting her?! По причиняет ей боль ?! B: If I have to. Если я должен . N: And to think I was going to go easy on you today. И думать, что я собираюсь идти легко на вас сегодня.

Chapter 2: Stop That Now (I Think You'd Better Leave)

Notes:

Sorry it's been so long! School work got to me.

But I'm glad to finally have written this chapter. This very first scene was challenging, because I wanted it to be very detailed and realistic. I did a bunch of research to see what would and would not work, not only for physical ability but also what style each character had. So hopefully, I described everything with enough detail for you to picture it, but not too much to make you bored. Either way, just so you know, I love feedback.

Also, this 'verse is not going to be AOU compliant. I had considered trying to work with it, but after seeing the movie? No.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Natasha’s arm swung forward, her fist aimed for his jaw.  James reacted instinctually by stepping to the left, body turning sideways to diminish his size as a target, and grabbing her wrist with his left hand, slowing and redirecting the punch’s momentum aside.  Natasha moved forward so they were fully facing one another once more, her free hand already rushing towards his throat.  He blocked her again using his forearm but realized too late that her right leg had lifted so she could knee him in the solar plexus.  Knowing it was his best option, he took the hit, doubling over naturally in response to the pain from the blow and his breath blasted from his lungs.  However unpleasant, it was worth it.

James diverted his upper body’s motion and added more energy into a forward and upward movement, pushing with his legs. At the same time he tugged back and downwards on the wrist he continued to grip and with his free arm reached between Natasha’s legs to wrap around her thigh. She was pulled towards him, straight into a headbutt to her solar plexus. Above him, she bent automatically. Her own free hand scrabbled and scratched at the flesh on his hand in an attempt to break its constrictive hold on her leg. Still yanking on her arm and moving his upper body while repositioning his head, Natasha’s torso connected with his back. Straightening, James hauled her up with his back and his arm cinched round her thigh, flipping her over and throwing her into the air behind him. As soon as he released her, he pivoted towards her quickly enough to catch her crashing to the floor with a conspicuous thud, her body sliding slightly.

Taking a step or two back, James shook his head to clear it.  He normally was not caught so off-guard by a strike, especially when it was so early in a fight.  He should have realized his opponent’s strategy was to lure him into gripping with his metal arm in order to prevent him from using his most powerful advantage against her.  He should have known how open his defense was.  Despite facing a clever and skilled opponent, he should not have had to take a hit in order to use that cobbled together throw because he was just as much of an ace, if not more so!  After all, he did have more training and experience.  It was obvious that broad, his soulmate unbelievably, was messin’ with his concentration.  But he had done the right thing, brushing her off and protecting her.  He needed to accept it gratefully, just move on, and refocus on this fight.  Especially since his opponent had something of a cause to fight for.  She would more than happily bruise and bloody him right now.  James could see it in her face.

The expression Natasha wore as she sat and clambered up from the floor, panting somewhat to regain the breath that had been knocked out of her, was blank.  That’s how he knew she meant business.  If this was only sparring for fun, she would have a tiny quirk to her lips from setting a successful trap.  But her face was as blank as when she fought on a mission.  James wasn’t facing Natasha; he was facing Black Widow.  It was a distinction he was uniquely suited to appreciate.  This was why he needed to focus.  He had no intention of allowing Black Widow to achieve her mission: him.

She moved at the same time as James, nimbly dashing over and flying through the air to wrap her thighs around his neck.  He managed to take her weight and absorb the force of her leap without compromising his solid stance.  In retaliation, James stretched his metal arm upwards to try and choke her.  Black Widow recognized the futility of maintaining a useless position, blocked his arm and flipped off of him, much more gracefully than when James had thrown her.  Landing lithely in a crouch, one leg straightened out to the side and one hand placed for balance, she swept her leg around behind him.  Yet once again, he was prepared and he jumped over her leg.  From there on it was a back and forth between the two of them.  James threw punch after punch while Black Widow blocked and kicked in a dancing whirl of endless motion being released and redirected.

 

 

****

 

 

Eventually they did have to end the sparring session, although judging by the tight expression on Natasha’s face when it did end, there would be more “training” with her later.  James did not relish the idea.  He had been able to hold his own, of course, but he did take some damage due to the ferocity of the Black Widow.  He was looking forward to a hot shower to help his sore, bruised body.  Grabbing the clothes he had left in the changing room, he shambled over to the elevator.  Natasha really liked to kick.  He was lucky not to have a limp!

Pressing the up button, James waited patiently for the elevator.  In his mind he tried to review the fight to see how he could have done better, but now that he was no longer forced to give all of his attention to attacking and blocking and dodging, his thoughts kept straying to his soulmate.  As soon as he was aware of how unfocused he was, he would gather his thoughts and return to analyzing the combat practice.  Only, within fifteen seconds his mind would wander right back over to the subject of soulmate again.  After a few renditions of the frustrating cycle, James realized the elevator still was not there, which seemed unusual.  It had been much faster earlier that day, but for all he knew that was a fluke.  He did recall Steve telling him about some AI that ran the building and assisted its residents.  It seemed like it was a good time to make use of the fella.

“JARVIS, you there?” he asked.

“Yes, Sgt. Barnes,” responded a light, clipped, male voice with a British accent.  “Did you want someone?”

“The elevator’s slow,” James replied.  He really wasn’t one for words.

“The elevator is functioning perfectly,” reported the voice, almost as tersely as James.

After a couple of minutes of silence, James spoke up again.  “Why is it slow?”

The answer was prompt.  “The elevator is as efficient as always and moving at its usual rate.”

“Then why isn’t it here yet?” he grumbled.

“That would be due to some regretful circumstances,” explained the AI without really explaining anything.  Some assistant, alright.  “One might even say ‘heartbreaking.’”

James felt his brow furrow and gritted his teeth, attempting to remind himself that if he could interrogate tough, wily secret agents then he could get basic info about an elevator from a nonhuman program.  He waited a beat or two before demanding, “What.  Circumstances.”

“As this is your first day in the tower, Sgt. Barnes, and you have yet to be, ah, accepted through the security system, you unfortunately do not have the necessary security clearance to use the tower’s elevator system.”

It was a full six seconds before James found his voice.  “I used it earlier,” he protested.

“Earlier today you were given, well, special clearance to use the elevator for a brief period of time, thanks to Agent Romanov,” the most useless computer program ever countered primly.  “To regain such clearance, you would have to ask her if she would grant it to you once more.  Shall I locate her for you?”

“No,” sighed James.  Of course the worthless computer would only be helpful when the situation made it pointless.  Even if he knew where Natasha had vanished to when he went to retrieve his clothes, there was no point in asking her.  He already knew her answer.  “Would Steve work?”

“Unfortunately I must, it seems, refuse.  Like you, Captain Rogers has just moved in.”

“But he’s been here before several times, so wouldn’t he already have clearance?”

“Only because sir gifted Captain Rogers with the special clearance during his visits, as he was a guest.”  James did have to give Stark some credit.  The program’s voice was surprisingly realistic and human, yet even with all of the variation in tone and cadence, it was unmistakably contrived from a program.  It kept putting stress on random words, making them sound out of place with the rest of the sentence.  But he’d rather Stark make the thing actually be handy first before messing around with the vocal stuff.

“What about today?” James challenged.  “He said he was going out to get coffee before he had to deal with anybody.  So how’d he use the elevator without speaking to someone?”

This time, there was a fraction of a pause before he got an answer.  “Captain Rogers is very fond of exercise.  He was perfectly content to use the stairs.”

“From the thirty-fourth floor?” snorted James.

“Indeed,” the voice confirmed.  “Captain Rogers has several impressive talents, and he likes the challenge.  I am informed that like some of the other residents of the tower, he is, ‘a real catch,’ apparently.”

An inkling of James’s irritation transformed into a drop of mild sympathy.  No wonder the thing was so ineffective; it was acting so oddly that it must have a bug or an error.  He would have to let Stark know.  “Is there anything I can do to use the elevator?”

“You will have to wait until you have your security clearance.”

“Can’t you do something?”

“I am unable to act outside of the parameters sir has created for me.”  As he absorbed everything from the whole annoying conversation to the fact that he was on the sixteenth floor, James rubbed his face with his hand, exhaustion weighing on him.  “I would be delighted to show you the way to the stairs, Sgt. Barnes.”

James would definitely have a limp by the time he reached his room.  He should have known better than to think he had even a speck of luck.

 

 

****

 

 

When he made it at last to his suite, James felt like he was covered in twice as much sweat as he had been sparring with Black Widow.  In comparison with the almost feverish heat his body was radiating, his rooms seemed as if they were below freezing.  The contrast in temperature cooled him off rapidly, and he hastened to his bathroom in anticipation of the tower’s excellently heated water, the perfect thing for his battered body, for his shower.  Steve had mentioned the water was quick to warm and could get hot enough to be just short of scalding. 

James turned the water on and proceeded to strip out of his sticky clothes and drop each damp garment onto the floor.  He could deal with them later.  Pulling the hair tie out, he shook his head.  Thick strands of sodden hair fell into his face.  Satisfied that he was ready and that he had given the water enough time to heat up, James dragged the shower curtain back.

He stepped into the shower and hissed in a surprise and dissatisfaction.  The water was most certainly not warm.  It pelted his already pummeled body much like petite ice pellets.  With another spurt of speed, James stepped back out of the shower to wait for the water to heat.

It didn’t.

Not much time passed before James gave up on waiting in discomfort in the chilly bathroom for the freezing water to warm.  He snatched one of the fluffy white towels that rested, neatly folded, on a miniscule shelf on a wall next to the shower, and with rough, jerky movements, wrapped it snugly around his waist.  He could walk around his new place naked after he deemed it free of bugs or cameras.

Marching out of the bathroom, he growled, “JARVIS.”

“Yes, Sgt. Barnes?  Looking for somebody?”

“Where’s the heat and hot water?”

“I am afraid I cannot give you access to those functions at this time,” JARVIS answered, his synthesized voice dripping with regret.

James bit out his next question.  “Why.  Not.”

“Until you receive your security clearance, this suite is considered to be unoccupied.  Once you gain clearance, I will be more than happy to enable your access.”

James began muttering a creative string of violently colorful curses in Russian.  He had underestimated JARVIS—a mistake he did not intend to repeat.  “Why do you have some sorta vendetta against me?”

“I am sure I have nothing of the sort against you, Sgt. Barnes,” responded the AI, tone saccharine sweet.  “You just simply must do without certain comforts.  It is true that your life would be much better and more enjoyable with such, however it seems these comforts are not necessary to live.  They can be denied.  Refused.  Rejected.”

Silence permeated the room, until it was broken by a soft, drawn out exhale from James.  It was not a surprising revelation.  Not when he had only been in the tower for a day, and a significant event in his life had occurred, no matter how rueful he felt about it.  To expect his new companions to comprehend the disastrous nature of finding his soulmate was like expecting Steve to take over the world.  He would just have to accept their ire, and permit them their retribution.  Compared to some of his vague and patchy memories, he expected it to feel like a warm welcome for him.

Notes:

I know many of you wanted to see Nat beat Bucky to a pulp. However, after all the research I did, I couldn't write the fight that way. From what I can tell and based on the MCU, Bucky is either better than or equal to Nat in combat. Also, I think in at least one of the comics Bucky is actually the one who trains Nat (but I could be wrong). Either way, that idea has always stuck with me. But when I write these characters, I am attempting to write them as close to the overall intended spirit or essence of the character, no matter what form of media is used, be it comic or movie. There are a lot of tropes in fanfic about these characters (ex.: Thor is like a golden retriever and his voice is always 'booming' when he speaks). While these tropes work in other fics, for myself personally, I find it impossible to write that. So that's why I wrote the fight (and why I write many other things the way I do), with the outcome being a tie, and Bucky with bruises instead of broken bones.

Hopefully JARVIS lightened the tone with his sneakiness and hidden messages, but because Bucky is Bucky and he doesn't know he can be happy, I had to bring the mood back down again. Sorry about that, but there's a good reason, I swear! If you want I'll try to lift it up once more in the next chapter.

Have any of you listened to the song yet? You really should, if not for good music then to have a hint of the overall plot. Honestly, I should probably listen too, so I'll have a clearer idea of where I want this fic to go and how it will get there. Seriously, I don't know what I'm doing for the next chapter.
But this means you have an opportunity!

Once again, if any of you have any requests for what you would like to see anywhere in this 'verse, let me know! So far all of the requests I've gotten have become some of the better parts of these fics, and are very well-received. You've got great ideas, and I'm more than happy to play with them. So please, don't be shy!

Don't have any ideas but tons of questions? Then ask away!

Lastly, thank you again to each of you for reading and supporting these. And a special shoutout to those of you who were with me from the beginning, and were kind and patient enough to wait and keep checking for this update--thank you! It's here at last!
Hope you've enjoyed it!

Chapter 3: Inside Out, Upside-Down (Twisting Beside Myself)

Notes:

Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about this fic! I've just been super busy and struggling with technical difficulties (like needing a new laptop).
This isn't much, but hopefully it'll tide you over until I can get something more substantial posted.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Darcy was awakened by a pounding in her head.  Resolutely, she kept her eyes squeezed shut until she could no longer stand dealing with headache without painkillers.  Ever so slowly, she opened her eyes just enough to peek through.  No use.  Without her glasses, she would have to actually open her eyes completely.  Before she could even decide to procrastinate on that, her head throbbed sharply.  Giving in to the reality that she had to get up, Darcy forced her eyes to crack open.

After the events of the night before, some of which she did not remember and others which she wonders if they were real, she was grateful that she had made it into her own bed somehow.  It was probably thanks to Thor, who had shown up as well.  Or at least, she was seventy-eight percent sure he was there.  Drinking with Star—Tony, really was an experience. 

Steeling herself—and her stomach—Darcy took a cautious breath and sat up, feeling a bit delicate.  After a few more calming breaths, she was able to shuffle into the main room—living room?—and examine the aftereffects.  There were pillows and chair cushions and blankets strewn about onto every surface available, from lamps to a footstool to the giant tv.  Empty glass bottles were either spread out at random intervals on the floor or haphazardly stored on the precarious edges of tables and bookcase shelves.  There was a potted plant that had an empty cardboard mint chocolate chip ice cream container lying on its side on the top of where she assumed the dirt in the pot to be, but it was difficult to tell since the mint chocolate chip ice cream, or rather soup, had poured out into and all over the pot in a sticky green tidal wave.  Perhaps the culprit thought they were watering the plant?

Sprawled on the couch was a mess she was at least familiar with.  Jane lay there still asleep, one of the chair cushions carefully balanced on top of her stomach.  Darcy was surprised Thor had not taken her with him, but maybe Jane had insisted on staying with Darcy in some form of sisterly solidarity.  As another stab of pain reminded her what she was doing, Darcy stopped her inspection of the room to trudge into the small kitchenette area she rarely used.  A minor amount of rummaging around produced painkillers and a glass of lukewarm water.  She promptly swallowed the pills, and determinedly made the trek back to her bedroom.  She did not so much as sit down as fall onto the bed.  Placing a hand to her head, she mumbled to herself, “How am I supposed to work like this?”

To her surprise, JARVIS answered her at a blessedly low volume.  “Sir has directed me to inform you that both you and Dr. Foster have the day off.  He says you should enjoy your long weekend, because you will begin your new job on Monday.”

Relieved, Darcy muttered her thanks and immediately went back to sleep.

 

 

****

 

 

Steve knocked on Bucky’s door and waited.  This was third time he had done this, the other two times from the day before when he had gotten back from his unsuccessful coffee run.  This morning he seemed to have more luck, as the door opened within a few seconds.  Bucky stepped aside wordlessly, and Steve walked in and took a seat in a chair.  Once Bucky had also sat down opposite him, he raised his eyebrows in question.  “You have it kinda cold in here.”

“My heating’s been taken away.  Elevator access too,” answered Bucky.  Steve frowned, but before he could say anything Bucky went on.  “Look, I know you already know Steve.  So do some of the others.  If they want to get back at me, let ‘em.  I crossed a line, and they want to punish me.  I get it.  It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not,” Steve insisted.  “They’re overreacting.”

Bucky ran a hand through his hair.  “I spoke too soon, and was a jerk.  I don’t blame them.”

“Doesn’t matter.  This is too much.  It can’t be good for you,” argued Steve.  There was no need for him to say what he really meant—that it could not be good for his mental state.

“I’m okay,” he asserted.

Steve let it drop.  He would deal with that later.  Instead, he asked, “Are you?  Are you really alright with letting go of her?”

Bucky’s eyes darkened.  He looked away and murmured, “She deserves better.  Safer.”

“But are you really okay with it?” repeated Steve, leaning forward in his chair.

Bucky held his gaze this time as he responded, eyes full of resolve, “It is the only option I find acceptable.”

“So you’re going to do nothing?” Steve sighed.

“I will apologize to her, I owe her that much.  But after that I’m leaving her alone.”

Steve only nodded.  As much as he wanted for his best friend to be happy, he knew that Bucky was still recovering from his many years as the Winter Soldier.  Soulmates were supposed to be connected by fate, but as he personally was well aware, sometimes fate did not make neat connections that just fall into place.  Unfortunately knowing your soulmate’s identity did not guarantee anything.  Even so, he still hoped that maybe fate had more in store for his friend.  Bucky had already suffered so much; he deserved to actually have a life, a good one.

They only chatted about small, inconsequential things after that.  It was not long before Steve got up to leave, telling Bucky he could always use Steve’s apartment to warm up.  Then he set off in search of Tony.  He wanted to speak to the man about boundaries and their importance.  Sometimes, he mused, he felt like the most stable person on the team, for all that he was a ‘man out of time.’

Notes:

As always, feel free to comment to ask questions or request things you want to see!

You can also follow me on my tumblr, sonataofsilence, and message me some prompts.

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