[ WWII AU ] a ghost story

[from_the_outside]

It's been almost two years since she's been home, and little by little, the grief has gotten easier to live with.

It hasn't gone away. But she's able to focus on her job, watch movies, chat with friends, sleep most nights. She still dreams about him, but the dreams are tinged with wistful longing and only sometimes does she wake up with tears on her cheeks. She can't have his picture out in this apartment, Kate's apartment, but it's safe in the mountain house, along with his last letter to her, and she has a scan on her phone to look at when the long day is over and she's in bed, the stars from the lamp he'd given her filling her dark room.

Steve has helped, more than she could ever explain, and she hopes she's helped him in return. Aside from a few deeply classified missions here and there, they haven't worked together all that much, but she still sees him almost every day. In the halls, she's undercover as his mild-mannered neighbor, Kate, but in her secure apartment they can talk over anything, everything.

And it works. Every day is a little easier. They lean on each other when they need to, and they spend hours remembering and reminiscing about Bucky, talking shop, chatting about how Steve's fitting into the future. It's nice. She still misses Bucky, an ache that never really goes away, but they can both breathe through it, work through it, live through it.

She's on her way up from the basement laundry machines when she hears a familiar step in the hall, and has to smile to herself – first her own, then Kate's sweeter, more open one. "Hey, neighbor."

Comments

[nerves_of_ice]

The Winter Soldier gives her a flat look and turns the phone to examine the controls as the female target says, "She's got a point. Sharon, do you have a burner?"

He presses the icon for a video call. The camera shows a flash of his own masked face, his empty gaze, before he holds it up and turns it to show the prisoner instead.

A harsh gasp echoes across the air. "Sharon!"

[from_the_outside]

In this moment, the thing that floods through her isn't fear; it's exasperation. "Crap."

She glares over the phone at the Soldier, then focuses on the camera and puts as much reassurance into her voice as possible. "Do not come for me," she orders. "Stay away, Steve, I mean it. No matter what happens."

[nerves_of_ice]

"You know I can't do that. And so does he." The target's voice is steady; admirable, the Winter Soldier thinks. He's weighed up the implications and chosen to face them.

In the background, the other target bursts into a flurry of Russian, telling him that Sharon's not his target, there's no reason to hurt her any more than he already has, that they can come to some arrangement. He ignores it.

He holds the phone steady so the target can see her, moving around a little so that the extent of her bindings is clear before he speaks. "I'll text a location. If you want her to live, come there."

[from_the_outside]

He'll come, of course he'll come, because he's Steve and because he's her friend and because all those months ago he'd said you watch my back and I'll watch yours, how's that? and he'd meant it. "Rome," she says, desperation slipping into her voice.

Natasha is her good friend and Natasha is her colleague and Natasha knows that sometimes, there isn't a happy ending. She knows that sometimes, you have to make sacrifices. "Natasha, keep him away. Keep him away. Don't come. Do anything you have to do, but keep him away."

[nerves_of_ice]

"If you want her to live," he says again. "Comply."

He disconnects the call without waiting for an answer and sticks her phone in his pants pocket, then considers her.

[from_the_outside]

There's that niggling feeling again at the back of her head as he speaks, but her anger and frustration are overwhelming any attempt at remembering.

"If he comes, he's going to take you apart," she says, coldly. "Either way, you're going to lose."

[nerves_of_ice]

"He'll come." His voice is level and empty of anything except deep and abiding certainty. He picks up the duct tape and tears off a new strip, then approaches her.

[from_the_outside]

It's driving her crazy. "Your voice," she says, watching him without fear, even as she tries to pull away from the tape. "Why do I know your voice?"

[nerves_of_ice]

That surprises him, enough for it to show in his glance. He pauses for an instant, studying her.

"I don't know." She can't have been a former target, or she wouldn't be here now.

[from_the_outside]

There's a flicker of surprise in his eyes, the first proof of human emotion she's seen, and something, something about that expression, the color of his eyes and the line of his brows, the sound of his voice, all of it is pulling at her in ways she doesn't understand and can't pinpoint.

"Are you SHIELD?"

[nerves_of_ice]

His expression flattens and goes empty. She is stalling, he realizes, that's all. Trying to gather intel, even while she's trussed up as she is. Brave of her, and dedicated, he can give her that much.

He ignores her question and stretches the tape between his hands, reaching to apply it to her mouth once more.

[from_the_outside]

Not SHIELD. She can't think of anyone she knows with hair like that, with eyes like that.

But she knows him. She knows his voice. If she could get him to say something else, to say something familiar...

Or if she could get the damn mask off –

Sharon jerks her head away from him, trying to get him to lean forward and a little off-balance, then bends her name and rolls her hips up, aiming for his jaw, trying to knock the mask loose.

[nerves_of_ice]

Impatience flares in his glance as he jerks back from her attempted blow. The Winter Soldier adds stubborn to his mental list of descriptives for her, and moves with sudden stunning speed.

He drops the strip of tape across her throat in order to pin her flat to the ground by the shoulder with his left hand, then swings a leg over and settles his full weight over her hips, his ankles hooked behind him over her thighs to keep her from being able to push up. The Winter Soldier reaches behind her head and runs his right hand into her hair, tangling his fingers in it and gripping hard, forcing her to tilt her head back so she can't twist away as he picks the strip of tape back up once more in metal fingers.

[from_the_outside]

He's over her and on top of her in the next second, his weight bearing her down and his hand is gripping her hair, tugging her head back –

His hand. Fingers slipping through the strands of her hair, a horrible nightmare of intimacy as he leans down, his eyes boring into hers and she breathes and can smell his scent, and then it washes over her, horrible certainty.

His voice. His eyes. The fingers in her hair, that touch her with ruthless efficiency and violence. His weight settled over her, as familiar as her own.

Her eyes widen, horror stabbing through her as realization hits. "No..."

It's not possible. It can't be. Is she dreaming? Is this some new, terrible nightmare?

But she knows his voice. " – Bucky?"

[nerves_of_ice]

Again, she has surprised him. He pulls his left hand back for a second and stares at her with total incomprehension.

"Who the hell is Bucky?"

[from_the_outside]

"Take off your mask," she demands, desperate. "Take it off, let me see your face."

It can't be. He's gone. He's been gone for decades. She's lost her mind.

But she'd know him anywhere. "Goddammit, take off your mask!"

[nerves_of_ice]

Her demand makes even less sense than anything else she's said or done up to now. He stares at her in silence, his mind racing. What is she thinking? He's never seen her in BaseOps, or any facility or outpost, not that he remembers anyway. Why would his appearance matter?

He doesn't know. It shouldn't matter, but if there's a way this development could affect the mission somehow, then he should find out.

He discards the tape to the side and raises his left hand to his face. He removes the mask and sets it aside on the floor, then meets her eyes and waits for her reaction.

[from_the_outside]

Her breath shudders to a halt in her throat, her chest, and she idly wonders if she might pass out. She's not the type to faint, but there's only so much a woman can take, and the assassin who'd broken into her apartment and tied her up revealing himself to be her long-dead lover, who doesn't seem to know her, is about as far as any person can go.

"Bucky," she whispers. It is him, although she has no idea how. How he's here, how he looks like he's hardly aged, how he has a metal arm, how he's become a Russian assassin. She can't stop herself; it jerks out of her, two years of agony and longing and all the shock she's feeling behind the word. "Baby."

Not helpful, Carter. It's clear he doesn't remember her, or even himself. "You are James Buchanan Barnes," she tells him, and can't help the desperation in her voice. "Don't you remember me? Don't you remember Steve?"

[nerves_of_ice]

She's striving to convince him, calling him by an affectionate name, asking him to remember her, to remember others, and he can't make sense of any of it.

"I am the Ziminy Soldat," he tells her, the one thing he is sure of in this moment, and reaches for the tape again.

[from_the_outside]

"You're Sergeant Barnes," she tells him, sharp. "Snap out of it, Bucky!"

The lamp he'd given her is the bedroom, the hairclips on the bureau. He isn't everywhere in this apartment, but there are small things, things she can explain away if she needs to, like the photos on her phone –

Her phone. If he opens the photos, he could see the one she'd taken of them on that hillside so long ago. "Just listen to me – "

[nerves_of_ice]

The tape has twisted with all this stopping and starting. He drops it and lets go of her hair to lean over and retrieve the roll, methodically tearing a fresh piece.

"I understand." Her bravery deserves acknowledgement, he decides. "You are trying to save him. Them. It won't work. Take comfort that you did everything you could."

[from_the_outside]

"I'm trying to save you all."

Steve. Steve. This will break his heart, just like it's breaking hers. "Bucky, please."

[nerves_of_ice]

"Soldat," he reminds her, even as her heartrending plea twists something deep inside him for reasons he can't explain. This conversation needs to end. He can't afford to be distracted any longer. "Hush now."

With that, he leans forward, using his forearms to frame her face in a vise so she can't turn away again, and pastes the tape over her mouth.

[from_the_outside]

He leans down, bracketing her head with his arms, close enough to kiss. But it's duct tape that presses against her lips, even as she takes a shuddering breath.

He's alive. Somehow, some impossible way, he's alive. Grief and loss and pain and longing and horror all mix in her eyes as she watches him, before they gloss over with a skim of tears. She blinks hard to clear her vision, a single drop leaking out of the corner of her eye, tracking over her temple.

[nerves_of_ice]

There's no fear in her gaze, but he can't fathom everything else that he sees there. The Winter Soldier gets to his feet in a single lithe motion and stares down at her for several long seconds before he steps away and withdraws his phone from his pocket. Even while he places the call, he's careful to keep her in view.

"Она у меня. Очистите подход," he says, when the contact answers.

"Copy. Do you want us to notify STRIKE?" The Winter Soldier considers. "Я разберусь с этим."