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Yelena could hear footsteps outside of the door that lead to the hallway of the building. She dropped the book she was half reading, her hand reaching for the Ruger she had in her lap and pointed it at the door as she moved from sitting on the floor to kneeling on one knee, the other leg poised for her to move. The door knob jiggled slightly before she heard the familiar lockpick tools at the keyhole. She took a deep and steady breath before giving the trigger a gentle squeeze, ready to shoot whoever came through the door. Grumbling followed the click of the lock; if there were words said, Yelena didn’t hear it. She waited on baited breath as the door opened, shaggy brown hair appearing around the wood. Wide blue eyes stared back at her.
“Der'mo! Belova. It’s me!”
Yelena cocked her head at the brunet who entered the small apartment, her own blue eyes narrowing at the person.
“Soldat,” she muttered, her gun still trained on the intruder.
“Belova, would you mind lowering that? I only have a lock pick in my hand.”
“Why would the zimniy soldat need a lock pick? You could just turn the knob and bam, you’re in.”
“Because I need a safe house? And stop calling me that. Barnes will do just fine. Bucky if you want to be friendly.”
Yelena rolled her eyes as she lowered the Ruger, but her finger was still on the trigger. “Friendly isn’t in my vocabulary, you should know that Barnes.”
Bucky gave her a shrug and closed the door, turning the lock back in place. “I would have thought that Nat’s sister would be a tad bit more welcoming,” he mused, tossing the backpack to the side. “So why are you in Chișinău?”
“That’s classified.” She watched him head to the tiny kitchen and opened the friend. “There’s nothing in there. You?” she called to him.
“Classified.”
She could practically hear the smirk in the one word and it made her roll her eyes. She never understood why Natasha tolerated him. The thought of her sister made her heart ache with loneliness. She shook her head and moved back down to the ground, picking up her book again just as Bucky walked out of the kitchen with a granola bar in his right hand and a bottle of water in his left.
“Let me guess, Nat told you about this place?” he asked, mouth full of the stale cereal he found.
“How can you eat that?” She looked at him with knitted brows.
He looked down at the box, his shoulder lifting with indifference. “I was born in 1917...not much different than the food we had. Actually, I rather have this than half the foods I had during the depression. Ever tried a meatloaf without meat? Haven’t touched a raisin since I’ve got my mind back.” His gloved finger came up and tapped his temple. She watched him carefully, the gun she held at her side, but her finger was still on the trigger. He turned his back, not caring, and started to rummage around the kitchen
“I’m surprised you remember Natasha,” she called to his now disappeared form, “do you even remember me?”
There was silence. Yelena didn’t know if she struck a nerve with him or maybe he was planning on killing her anyway. Natasha said in her letters that the programming the KGB put into his brain was gone, but she was skeptical of a country that didn’t want anything to do with the world until it had a new king.
“There’s pieces that are still coming,” he finally spoke, his voice soft. “If I’d known that you were still in the Red Room, I would have came for you.”
Yelena scoffed and shook her head, her finger finally leaving the trigger.
“You and Natasha both believed that it was gone,” she stated, her voice wavering. She took a step back when he started to walk towards her. “She truly believed that she destroyed Dreykov and that place, but she didn’t. Did she tell you that?”
“She told me everything, solntsey,” he replied softly, a smile tugging at his lips, “the good and the bad, cliff notes versions really. Kind of busy trying to stop an alien force from wiping out worlds.”
“And we all know how that went,” Yelena glowered, her eyes shifting to the door. She wasn’t ready to have a sentimental talk with someone who she hadn’t seen in over two decades. “And I am not your solntsey, not anymore.”
“You and Natasha were the only light I had during that time, even if they made me forget each time.” His voice broke and when she looked at him, she could see the pain on his face.
“It was a long time ago, Barnes. We all came out of that with a lot of trauma and all that psychological bullshit people like to use to describe shitty pasts.” She set the gun down on the window ledge and leaned back against the wall. “Did you...you and Natasha…”
“I was snapped out before we could,” he replied sadly, “before that, I wanted all the programming out of my head, not wanting something she said to trigger the thing they created. She told me Dreykov had you and other girls under some kind of…” His finger circled next to his head. “...thing. Sucks, doesn’t it? Blindly following but have some sort of consciousness to know what you are doing but can’t control it?”
“So, you don’t know what happened to her?” Yelena asked softly, her eyes lowering to the ground.
“Steve told me.”
“That his buddy murdered Nat?”
“Murdered? God no, solntsey. I don’t know who told you that, but they’re wrong.” He looked her over, seeing how her body shifted, her breath becoming shallow. “Solntsey, are you the one that’s after Clint?”
“What makes you think that?” she defensively asked, her blue eyes narrowing on him.
“Why else would someone want Clint dead. Wait, nevermind. He’s a smartass. Someone else would get to him eventually,” he scoffed and took off his jacket. “As much as I love reconnecting, I’m tired. I assume there is only one sad excuse of a bed in there, so I’ll take the floor. Use to it anyway.” He threw the leather jacket to the floor, her gaze going to his black and gold arm.
“I see they gave you an upgrade,” she stated, pushing off the wall.
“Half the weight,” he mused, giving her a smirk as he sat down on the floor with a heavy sigh.
“You know, the bed is big enough for the two of us.”
“I already imposed on your safe house.”
“Brat, idi spat',” she groaned, “It’ll be like when I was ten and Varya had me sus-sous until I practically broke my ankle.
“You didn’t break your ankle,” he groused as he rolled his eyes. “Your toe broke and I promised Natasha to look after you when she was gone. And solntsey, you were ten then. I’m not going to share a bed with you.”
“Fine, take the bed now, and I’ll wake your ass when I get tired. You don’t have to sleep like an animal if there is a halfway decent place to sleep. You’re Bucky Barnes now, yes? Not some mindless weapon anymore? Idi, brat, I want to finish my book anyway.”
“You’re lucky you’re solntsey otherwise I would just lock you in that room,” he muttered as he got up off the floor and walked past her to the sorry excuse of a bedroom.
A car horn woke Bucky from his dreamless sleep, but when he went to turn, there was something against his back and draped over his midsection. It took only a second to realize that it was Yelena, wearing his jacket, face pressed against his back. It brought back the few times he was able to give her some solace from the Red Room before he was wiped. He smiled and shifted so he could be on his back, letting her sleeping form adjust as she needed, His flesh hand moving the flaxen locks away from her face.
“I got you solntsey,” he whispered.