Who: James/Winter Soldier and Natasha What: James is carrying out his subliminal orders of taking Natasha back to Russia Where: Projects/Wilderness When: After the vampire fun with the Strigoi Status: Complete/gdoc’d Rating: Potentially high
James was a soldier and he followed orders. He didn’t always know what his exact orders were, but when the opportunity presented itself, he carried out those orders. Which was why when Natasha had said she needed his help for a retrieval mission, something clicked in his mind and he knew this could provide the opportunity he needed to carry out his own retrieval mission.
He did his part in dealing with the vampires, though his main priority was keeping Natalia safe and alive. He knew her being alive was a top priority. Once it was all over though, he waited for her to approach him.
“That was fun,” he said in Russian, grinning a bit with his arms casually over the butt of his rifle. He moved over to her, his eyes scanning her, concern in their depths. “You okay though?” he asked, voice worried.
Natasha frowned faintly as she stared after the direction she thought she’d seen Viktoria run in, then towards where Dimitri and Rose had followed Nathan and Inna. Perhaps for now it was best to let them be, having a strong feeling that they could handle the rest on their own...and that they wanted to. Bending to retrieve a stake from one of the Strigoi’s hearts, she wiped it off carefully on his clothing, then stood while slipping it into a strap on her thigh.
The redhead turned at James’ words, then gave a faint smile in reply to the grin, following it with a nod. “It was, though it didn’t go how it was planned. But plans rarely do,” she replied in the same language. Tilting her head at the question, she nodded lightly, and began to lead the way back towards the road that would lead to the prison. “I am, yes. Are you?”
James nodded, falling in step beside her. “I am yes. You always did know how to keep me on my toes,” he chuckled. His hands shifted to grip the gun better given they were in the middle of the zombie apocalypse. “So back to the prison with you then?” he asked, glancing over at her.
The Russian nodded a bit. “I need to take care of a few things, then in the morning when they return, find out what happened.” Jade eyes flickered over her shoulder again, but her eyes showed none of the worry she felt. Looking over at James as they walked, she continued, “You’ll be going back to the projects, I imagine?”
James nodded some. “I don’t like prison...too many people in too small of a space...” he murmured. He stopped and looked at her after a moment. “You could stay with me...” he murmured softly.
Natasha blinked, then slowed at his words, before finally stopping and turning to face him. “James...I can’t,” she said gently. “I have certain responsibilities.” Plus, she had Clint.
James looked down and began walking forward slowly. “That archer guy?” he asked, pausing once he reached her. “I saw the news footage of New York last year. They woke me up for that but I wasn’t needed so they put me back under.” James wasn’t a fool either. He had seen how well the two had worked together in New York. Only partners worked that well together. Like they had once done.
For a minute, she was silent, studying his eyes. Finally, Natasha slowly nodded, and when she spoke this time, her voice was soft. “....Yes. The archer. We’ve been partners for some time. I...trust him. With my life, your life, and anyone else’s you could name.”
The former Army sergeant nodded. “But you don’t trust me like that,” he said more than asked. He reached up with his real hand and brushed his fingers through his dark hair. “Never thought you would defect,” he murmured softly.
“I trust you, James. I don’t trust them, or what they did to you,” she replied quietly, her eyes on his. “I’ve always trusted you.”
He looked down, a faint smile on his face. “Thanks I guess,” he murmured. Without betraying any movement he palmed a special syringe into his cybernetic hand. He lifted his gaze up to hers. “You shouldn’t though,” he said and he moved quickly. He jabbed the needle as fast as he could into her neck and depressed the plunger on it, injecting the specialized drug into her system. His eyes were a swirl of emotions as he did that. Once the syringe was empty he stepped back and began tugging out some specialized handcuffs he had been ordered to use only on her.
“I’ll alwa-” She started to reaffirm, almost smiling, when his hand moved. She’d forgotten just how fast the arm could move, and she’d gotten too relaxed, even sloppy. Feeling the sting in her neck, Natasha raised a hand to slap at the spot, her eyes narrowing as betrayal and confusion slipped out, followed by anger. “What is that-” Barely being able to get the question out, she gasped sharply as pain, worse than anything she’d ever before felt, even in her training, stabbed into her neck where the serum had been injected, followed almost instantly by some sort of paralytic. The redhead couldn’t even take a step forward as she felt her muscles seizing up, ignoring her demands, and bringing about her deepest fear: Loss of control. She was helpless.
The paralytic was followed swiftly by a sedative and she gave a faint, almost questioning sound, fighting to try and keep her eyes opened, but eventually they snapped shut and she began to fall back towards the ground, losing consciousness halfway down.
James moved forward quickly and caught her, easing her down to the ground. A single tear slid down his face. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. Even as he spoke he locked the cuffs around her wrists before he stripped her of her guns and weapons. Once that was done he stood and hefted her over his shoulder and began heading out of town, his face expressionless as the Winter Soldier emerged.
Natasha had no way of knowing how long it was before she awoke, but gradually, she became aware of movement, of being carried. As her eyes slid open and focused on the ground, she was overcome with nausea for a moment and gathered her thoughts to thrust the feeling aside. She didn’t make a sound, not wanting to alert him that she was awake, and when she finally thought she was thinking clearly enough to act, she did.
Twisting on his shoulder abruptly, Natasha jammed one knee into James’ jugular, then struggled to try and roll off his shoulder.
He felt her shift and started to move as well which diminished the blow to his throat. But it ended up with his dropping her from his shoulder. He spun quickly to face her, his eyes a conflicting swirl as he stalked towards her.
She landed on one knee and immediately rolled away to come up facing him in a crouch. Her own eyes were narrowed as she tugged at the cuffs with her hands, glaring at him. “What are you doing, Soldier?”
“My mission,” he returned, his voice cold and empty as it often was when his programming came to the forefront. James moved closer to her and reached out to take hold of the cuffs and thus her so they could keep going. They were only five klicks from Everett and James needed to get further away to the rendezvous point with the extraction team that had dropped him off.
She let him take then and tug her forward, then abruptly retaliated by slamming her head into his, then attempting to slam her wrists into his neck in a type of karate chop. Spinning to move away, she shook her head. “No. What mission? There is no Red Room.”
He staggered some when she connected her head to his but quickly raised the cybernetic arm to block her strike to his neck. “To retrieve the Black Widow.” His eyes locked on to hers. “There has always been a Red Room. The current situation with the world provided the opportune moment to retrieve all valuable assets.” He rushed her and slammed into her, trying to drive her to the ground. He had hoped the sedative would have lasted until the extraction point but it seemed her body had burned it off faster than the scientists had thought.
Falling back, she arched her legs up and slammed her feet into his chest, lifting him up and over her head easily in a move he’d probably find familiar. By the time his back hit the ground, she was up and putting a little distance between them, still glaring. “Not any longer. They’re dead James. The Red Room is gone. We have only ourselves now, no orders.”
James shook his head. “Who do you think woke me up?” he asked. “Brought me to America? Told me where I’d most likely find you?” he pressed. The move was indeed familiar but he regained his footing quickly. “You belong to Red Room just like I do.”
“Not any longer,” she replied. The news that the Red Room had made it through the current ordeal of the world unnerved and worried her, but she couldn’t think about that, not now. “I’m my own woman, James. I decide my fate. Not those scientists. Not men in white coats who unmade us, took out our minds, scrambled them, then put them back in broken. Not the men who made an eight year old girl stand in a lake covered in ice nearly to the point of hypothermia just because she didn’t understand why!” For the first time since they’d met, all those years ago, tears pricked her eyes as they met his.
“There’s no other choice Natalia,” he whispered. “I have my orders.” He pushed the sleeve to his coat up revealing an electronic remote strapped to his wrist. “Don’t make me use this. Those cuffs are electrified if I wish it so you come quietly.”
Her eyes dropped to the cuffs, then raised to his and she shook her head slowly, then stood straight. “Then you’ll have to kill me, because I will never again submit to them. And if you try to take me back, I’ll find a way to kill myself first.”
James bowed his head. “If you die, I fail and my life is forfeit.” He reached up and hit a button on the cuff, sending a low wave of voltage through the cuffs. It wasn’t strong enough to kill her, but it would be strong enough to render her muscles uncooperative.
A hiss of breath escaped through her teeth, and she involuntarily fell to the ground, then looked up at him again, betrayal and some hurt in her eyes. He knew, she’d thought, what her deepest fear was, and here he was using that fear against her, causing her to be helpless and reliant on him for everything. The jolt from the cuffs continued to travel through her for a moment, preventing her from regaining her strength, and she could do nothing but curl up a little.
The self disgust and sorrow was there in his eyes if one knew James. He hated himself for doing this to Natalia. Natasha. Whatever the hell she wanted to call herself. But try as he might he couldn’t fight the orders buried in his mind. He moved forward and easily picked Natasha up. Silently he began walking forward again, heading for the extraction point, his head bowed in his shame.
After several long minutes of glaring up at him, she finally shut her eyes and turned her face away, rather than into his chest as she might have long ago. She’d fight him as soon as her strength returned, of course, but for now she was just going to try to keep herself awake so she’d know if their situation changed at all.
She would die before ever going back.
Several hours later James stopped by a small abandoned house and went inside, making sure the building was clear before he set Natasha down on the floor in a bedroom and began digging out some rations. He set a packet of food out for her along with a small flask of water before he sat by the door, nibbling on his own food. After several long minutes he finally spoke.
“You should have put a bullet in my head the moment you saw me in Everett.”
Ignoring the food and water, Natasha’s eyes lifted after she was silent for a good ten minutes. Finally, she shook her head. “I wouldn’t do that to you,” she said coldly, then rested her head against the wall, staring at him. “No matter what my orders, I’d find a way around them. For you.”
He looked up at her, staring into her eyes. “You’ve been gone from the Red Room for a long time. Methods change.” He looked down again. “And not everyone is as strong as you.”
For some reason, his words brought her back to her talk with Inna, about strength. “We all measure strength differently,” she said softly, and after a moment she jerked out a foot to kick the food and flask towards him so that they hit the door only inches from his shoe. “And if you don’t think you can fight it, fight them, then you are a fool, James Buchanan Barnes. The Bucky that Steve knew was a stronger man than you. He would fight with every breath in his body, not simply submit.”
James didn’t even flinch when she kicked the food and flask at him. His eyes flickered at her words but he stayed where he was. “As I’ve been saying, Bucky Barnes is dead.” His voice was a bit harsh and cold. “I’m not him. As you so nicely pointed out.”
“You could be,” she replied, then shook her head and turned away from him, curling up while focusing on regaining her strength.
“He was a weak fool who trusted in a stupid hero who let him fall to his death.” He kept his eyes on her, silent.
“He didn’t let anything happen,” she said quietly, not turning back. “If you trust nothing else, even me, trust that. Steve Rogers is stronger than both of us, than anyone I’ve ever met. He isn’t weak, or a fool.”
“You weren’t there Widow.” His gaze studied her. “I did trust you. But then you abandoned me. Left me on my own to fend for myself when I stood no chance given everything they did to me.” For emphasis he slammed his robotic fist through the wall. “You never even looked for me,” he accused.
“How do you know?” She spun back to him, rearing up onto her knees. “I tried, James. I looked for you for years. Years. They kept you hidden, kept you under. Then one day I thought I’d found you and when I got there, all I could find were files. Files that said you’d been terminated, the remains incinerated. I thought you were dead,” she hissed out sharply, glaring angrily, not caring to hide her emotions any longer.
“So you found planted files and figured they were true.” He snorted. “Pathetic.” He kept his hands still, hoping that if he egged her on enough, she’d end him and would then be safe. “I thought I trained you better.”
“I verified. I researched. I tried to find some damn sign that you were alive, and found nothing at all.” Slumping back, she glared at him, then curled up slowly.
“Then you weren’t looking hard enough,” he returned harshly. “There were signs. I was activated at times for assassinations. But you never gave a damn about me.”
“The fact that you can say that proves that you don’t know me at all,” she replied, then dropped her gaze, falling silent.
“Then I’ll be looking forward to the knife in my ribs tonight,” he returned, his voice subdued and slightly hopeful. He nudged the food and water back towards her before he settled himself where he could sleep in a light doze and still be aware if she tried anything.
Kicking the food and water a second time, she rolled over to face the wall, ignoring him but remaining awake. She knew he would move if she tried to leave, so instead she stayed quiet. After about two hours, she started to softly sing a Russian lullaby she’d shared with him years ago, just after they had met and before he’d been drawn too deep into the conditioning, when he’d once asked her if she remembered anything from “before”. The only thing she could bring to mind was the lullaby, and, closing her eyes, Natasha sang it again, now.
James heard the lullaby and he closed his eyes, trying to fight the memories it brought up. She had been so young then. Hell, they both had been really. And they had managed to find comfort and solace in each other’s arms.
“Be quiet and get some rest,” he ordered.
Ignoring him, she continued to sing softly, merely repeating the lullaby after it came to an end, again and again, barely pausing to breathe.
When it was clear she wasn’t going to be quiet, James shut his eyes and hit the shock button again on the cuff he wore. “I said quiet.”
Her breath caught sharply and she jerked a little, then let out a shaky breath. After a few minutes of silence, she began to sing again, faintly, not letting it go.
When she started singing again, he got up abruptly and stalked over to her before reaching down and grabbing her by the throat. “I. Said. Quiet,” he hissed, his voice dangerous.
Her eyes flashed as he grabbed her, forcing her eyes to meet his, and she let her gaze narrow. “Never.” Her eyes dared him to kill her then and there, because she was determined to find some way around his subliminal conditioning.
James narrowed his eyes and he tightened his hold on her throat, cutting her air supply off. “That wasn’t a request Romanova,” he snapped.
Rather than fight as he expected, Natasha went completely limp, her eyes on his even as they started to try and close, black spots beginning to appear in her gaze as she tried to focus. “N-n....o,” she whispered harshly.
James didn’t remove his hand or loosen it. He knew the right amount of time to keep the pressure on before the lack of oxygen and blood flow to the brain forced a person to pass out. He didn’t remove his hand until she was unconscious. Once she seemed at least unable to fight, he tugged out some tape and wrapped it around Natasha’s lips before he let her go and returned to his spot. For good measure he sent another jolt at her, his mind starting to throb in pain as the tumult of voices and memories increased.
Her body jerked at the shock, but she remained unconscious except for a very faint moan. Her skin was beginning to blister under the cuffs, but even that didn’t yet wake her. It was two hours before she began to stir again, eyes slowly dragging open, and her cuffed hands immediately made a move towards the tape.
James wasn’t paying her any mind. The last two hours he had spent agonizing over what was true or not in his mind but he couldn’t tell. And trying to remember only caused his head to throb in pain. His back was mostly to Natasha, his head bowed forward. In his hand was one of Natasha’s guns, the safety off and the muzzle pointed at his head.
As her eyes landed on his back, Natasha yanked off the tape, then threw herself across the room and smacked his hand away. “What the hell are you doing?!” She demanded it, outraged to have even found him that way.
He kept hold of the gun and shoved her back, confusion, pain, self hatred, and a multitude of other emotions in his eyes and on his face. “Saving your life,” he whispered, his voice broken. He lifted the gun again and pressed it under his chin, his finger on the trigger. “If I live I’ll keep trying to take you back.”
“Then fight.” Lifting her hands, they trembled slightly as she shifted forward, then rested them on the barrel of the gun. “Don’t leave me, James,” she whispered, green eyes searching brown. “Please.”
“This is all I can do,” he murmured softly, a tear slipping down his face. “I’m a risk to you as long as I’m alive. I don’t know what they did to me. And it’s a fight to do this much,” he whispered. “Besides...you have your archer. You don’t need me.”
“Let me help. Let Steve help. We can all help you!” Her hands shifted so that her fingers could brush the tear, and she leaned in after a moment to brush her lips against his. “I may have him, but I want you, too. I need you, James. I’ll always need you in my life. Don’t abandon me to live in this world without you.”
He shook his head weakly. “There is no help for me,” he whispered. “And you don’t need me. You got along well without me all those times I was under and you thought me dead.” He reached out with his metallic arm and began pushing her back.
She resisted the push, slapping the hand away and reaching up to cup his face as best she could with her hands still cuffed. “James, listen to me. I need you. Steve - your best friend, I promise - needs you. We both care about you. Please, James, I don’t want to lose you again.”
“I can’t be saved,” he whispered, closing his eyes. “Just let me go.” His finger twitched and he went to start depressing the trigger to end his life.
“Yes, you can. If I can, then so can you.” She moved forward suddenly and shoved him onto his back, her knees on either side of his chest while her hands pressed the hand holding the gun against the floor, breathing hard. Panic warred with pain and desperation in her gaze as she stared down at him, only a couple of inches away from his. “I promise we’ll save you. I swear it.”
When he hit the floor with his back the gun went off, the bullet missing his head by centimeters. He stared up at her, defeat in his eyes. There was also a look of brokenness in those brown depths, a feeling of being lost and not able to find his way. If she looked close enough she’d see that the control to the cuffs on his wrist was broken.
“You deserved to be saved. I don’t. I helped them try to make you into a monster. So either fucking kill me now or I won’t stop trying to end my existence.” He couldn’t even call it a life. He didn’t live. He existed. He was nothing but a monster let loose to carry out missions. He meant nothing.
"I can't do that, James," Natasha whispered, shaking her head slowly. "I told you, we'll save you....and we will. You're not about to make an oath breaker of me." She tore the gun from his hands and tossed it aside, then noticed the key was broken. Flicking the switch on the cuffs with her chin, she tossed them aside and reached down to link her fingers with his.
"Please live, James. For me?"
He shut his eyes against her words. “You want to save a dead man. I’m not James Barnes,” he insisted. He tore his hand from hers and shoved her off of him and scrambled to his feet. “And did you ever stop to think that I don’t want to be James Barnes again?”
She stayed on the floor, having fallen back on her hands, staring up at him. After a few seconds, she stood and moved towards him while ignoring the welts the cuffs had called, again lifting her hands to cup his face. “Who do you want to be?”
He caught her wrists and shoved her back again. “Stay away from me,” he returned in answer. He turned his back to her and began heading for the door to leave the house, fighting the voices in his head that kept insisting he had a mission to do and he was failing it. He paused at the door to the bedroom they were in and spoke softly, just loud enough for his voice to carry.
“I’m nothing and no one. What I want means shit.” With that he continued on his way.
Ignoring the pain, she stared after him when he started to leave, then shook her head at his words. “That’s not true. James, wait - “ She started out after him and caught his arm. “Tell me what you want, dammit!”
He jerked his arm free and took a few steps back from her. “I don’t want anything other than to die!” he snapped. A few tears slipped down his face. “I’m a monster Natalia Romanova and I can’t be saved no matter how much you insist I can be! James Barnes is dead but all you and that hopeful idiot see is the ghost of a dead man!!” he snarled. He pulled a gun free and aimed it at her heart. “Now leave me be,” he ordered.
“My name,” she started softly, “is Natasha Romanoff. Natalia died a long time ago.” She stared at him, then took a slow step forward. “I don’t see that man because I never knew him. I’ve only ever known you. I know that you can be a better man, James. You don’t have to remain their product. You can be your own person, like I became.”
She continued to step forward until she ran into the gun, not seeming to care that it pressed against her heart. “I’m not leaving you. Come back with me.”
He shook his head. “So long as there are people who only see me as that Bucky, I’ll never be my own person.” He lifted his head and looked at her, slowly lowering the gun. “You never would leave me behind even when it was necessary,” he murmured. “So I’ll do the leaving.” Without another word he turned and leapt over the railing of the second floor and fell to the first floor below, pain erupting through his back and side. He felt darkness creeping up on him and hoped to hell it was death, though a small part of him whispered that due to what had been done to him, he’d never truly die from such a short fall.
His head lolled to the side and his chest slowly rose and fell, indicating he was in fact alive.
When he jumped over, Natasha rushed forward, then stopped when she saw him on the ground. Ten seconds later, she was running out the door and dropping to her knees next to him. Relieved that he was alive, Natasha took a deep breath, then started to search him for her phone. With any luck, she could contact Steve, figure out where they were, and have him come and help.