Archive of Our Own ^beta

Natasha took note of her surroundings, keeping her breathing steady even as she picked up her pace slightly. Easily dancing out of the way of pedestrians, she took a sharp right, then immediately vaulted over the fence to her left. She knew it would take a lot more than a backyard (or seven, as she continued to leap over fences made of various materials) to lose her pursuer.

True enough, as she cleared the last fence between herself and perceived freedom, she landed at the feet of a mountain of a man, who immediately hooked his arm around her throat and held her in a chokehold. A sharp pain lanced through her stomach as she struggled against him, causing her to yell more in anger than anything.

“Fine!” she shouted, going limp. She was released, and she pushed away from the man. “Fine. Whatever.”

Magnus, the giant Swede who had been following her, chuckled, shoving his hand through his ash blond hair. “You know this isn’t going to make Director Fury trust you any sooner, right?”

Natasha glared at him, even though she knew he was right. Testing him, trying to figure out where his weaknesses lay, was just making Fury angrier and less likely to bring her back. Honestly, she was lucky that she wasn’t locked in a cell. Instead, she had a guard who was pulling double duty: protecting her from James, should he decide to come back and finish the job, and making sure that Natasha didn’t disappear again.

Natasha began making her way out of the alley, walking slowly so as to avoid irritating her not-quite-healed wound. Had she been a typical human, she would most likely still be in recovery, but thanks to the meddling from the Red Room, she was already able to run a half marathon only after a week of being awake. Her shoulder was still sore, so she stretched as she and Magnus headed back to the house.

They walked through the door as the sun was setting, so Magnus headed towards the kitchen. As Natasha made her way upstairs, she could hear him clattering around as he began to make dinner. She slipped into the bathroom, locking the door behind her, and turned on the shower before she began to undress.

As the bathroom filled with steam, Natasha looked at her naked body in the mirror. There were countless scars decorating her pale skin, some of them white, some of them angry red. The bullet wound in her stomach was almost completely healed, just a new scar among the old. She ghosted her fingertips across it before reaching up and touching the ring that hung between her breasts. She had used a simple silver chain, long enough that the ring wouldn’t slip out of any shirts she was wearing, keeping it secret from everyone. She had taken the ring off the day that Magnus had shown up, the day she had awoken in the house that had been a symbol of her future life.

Tearing her eyes away from her reflection, she stepped into the shower and let the hot water cascade over her. Her breathing hitched as she turned her face to the spray and let the tears fall. She only ever cried in the shower, only ever thought about her loss in this private place. She hadn’t bothered to turn on the light, and as the sun dipped below the horizon, the bathroom grew darker as she sobbed.

When the water ran cold, she shut the shower off and stepped out, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around her. The streetlights outside barely made a difference in the darkened room. Scooping up her clothes from the floor and grabbing a second towel from the rack, she left the bathroom and made her way to the master bedroom across the hall, noting the sounds and (admittedly delicious) smells coming from the kitchen that Magnus was still down in the kitchen. He seemed to know when she needed to be alone, despite only having known her a week. She slipped into her room silently, closing the door softly behind her, and turned to stare into the dark room.

Almost immediately, she knew she wasn’t alone. The window was open, curtain fluttering lightly in the wind.

Winding the towel around her hand, she looked into the darkest corner of the bedroom. “Hello, James,” she whispered. She waited for him to make his move, unsure of what exactly it would be. If he was planning on killing her, he could have done so as soon as she had entered the room. Instead, he stepped forward slightly, making himself visible in the darkness.

“You really should fix your window,” he said quietly. His face was covered in his mask, voice muffled by the armor. Only his eyes would be visible, she knew, if he had been in the light. Instead, he was black on black on shadow. Even with her slightly enhanced night vision, she could barely see him. He was just a vague shape, much like he had been for years before she broke the programming that had prevented her from truly remember what they had been to each other in another lifetime.

She waited for him to say something else, poised to defend herself if he decided to attack. Instead, moved toward her slowly. The closer he got, the better she could see him. He reached out for her, his gloved hand touching her face lightly. She couldn’t read his eyes.

They stayed like that for a moment, and almost like it was meant to happen, something she had thought was dead flared to life inside of her. In her mind, she could hear music, soft tinkling music box chimes filling her head. She dropped the towel wound around her fist and reached up with trembling fingers. Reaching around the back of James’s head, she found the buckles to his mask. She deftly undid them, her heart aching as she felt him stiffen under her touch. When the straps were undone, she pulled the mask down.

Their chests were nearly touching, and she looked up at his face for the first time in decades. It was different than she remembered. He was more worn down even if he only looked a few years older. A car drove by on the street and the headlights shone through the curtains, dancing across his eyes.

His hand, the real one, pulled her flush against him, resting gently against her back but preventing her from moving away. Again, he could easily kill her if he wanted, but Natasha knew deep down that something was unlocking in his brain. Searching his face, she could see the struggle behind his expression.

She was struggling, too.

Their lips were millimeters apart when a knock came at the door. Still knocking, Magnus opened the door and poked his head inside. When he saw that Natasha wasn’t alone, he slung the door open and leapt at James, who in turn had twisted Natasha so that her back was against his chest. He had pulled a knife from somewhere and held it against her throat with enough force that she could feel blood trailing down her collarbone from where the blade bit into her skin.

She took a deep breath and, using all her strength, flipped James over her. She felt the knife cut into her neck, but there was no real damage. She shrugged it off and grabbed the towel that had fallen off of her body. Throwing it in James’s face, she was able to scramble away from him and over the bed. James flung the towel away while dodging a shoulder charge from Magnus. Natasha leapt back into the fray, fighting in sync with Magnus as if they had been training together for years. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him swat something shimmering away from his face, but before she could get a good look had to drop down to avoid being punched in the eye by James’s metal hand.

Even though he was outnumbered, James was definitely not outmatched. Natasha knew that it would take a lucky swing in order to take him out. Being smaller, she was able to get in closer to her former lover and deliver an elbow to his face. He stumbled slightly, but recovered and kicked Natasha in the stomach. She collapsed as the searing pain from her still healing would made her gag. James kicked her again, this time in the back. Gasping, Natasha grabbed the knife off the floor where it had fallen and plunged it into James’s leg.

Letting out a roar of pain, he charged Magnus. The two of them crashed into the mirrored glass of the closets, and James began punching Magnus in the stomach with his metal hand. Natasha dove for the only unbroken lamp in the room. The spots in her vision weren’t doing her any favors in the dark, and she knew that the sudden light would momentarily blind James, hopefully giving Magnus the leverage he needed to break away. She flipped it on and froze.

The room was a disaster. Blood, from all three of them, was smeared across the floor. There was glass from broken lamps and mirrors, a broken chair, and even the bed had been damaged, one leg collapsed and the mattress sagging onto the hardwood. The two men, still in the same position against the closet, weren’t moving. Natasha stared at them, trying to wrap her head around what she was seeing. No one moved, not a sound was made for what seemed like an eternity.

Finally, a single word was spoken.

“Bucky?”

Natasha saw red. Leaping over the broken bed, she wrapped her legs around James’s back and pulled him backwards. Stumbling, he released his hold on the other man and reached up to grab Natasha, but he was too late. She had already dropped to the floor, pulling the knife out of James’s leg and holding it against his throat. She was shaking, ready to kill anyone who tried to stop her. “Get out,” she spat. “Bucky.”

James looked from Natasha to the man still pressed against the broken closet. “Who the hell is Bucky?”

“Ubiraysya!” Natasha screamed this time. James – Bucky – nodded and was gone, slipping out the window like he had never been there. Natasha closed her eyes for a second and turned to face Magnus.

Instead, she found herself staring at Steve, who in turn stared outside through the window that his long presumed dead best friend had just disappeared.