[ 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."

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[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."

[from_the_outside]

There's not much she can do aside from roll around on the floor, and she has to be careful not to hurt herself, not to tire herself out. Methodically, she starts working at her wrist ties once more, doing her best to ignore the way her mind is racing.

If she lets herself think about it, she'll break. And she can't afford to break. Not yet.

[nerves_of_ice]

He places the next call to the STRIKE team leader, switching languages as the other man doesn't speak more than fundamental Russian. It doesn't matter that he's being overheard; she won't be telling anyone about any of this.

"Targets contacted and acquired," he says, when Rumlow answers. "The operation is go. Maintain the perimeter."

"You sure you don't want us in there with you?" The Winter Soldier represses a sigh. The man's dislike of the target, his need to cause him harm and his enjoyment of pain, all of these are weaknesses that could risk the mission.

"Maintain the perimeter," he repeats. "Allow them to pass in, then secure it."

[from_the_outside]

Rumlow. That goddamn traitor. She'd known there was something off about him, and the Steve had said SHIELD had sent STRIKE after him.

Grief gives way to hot rage as she listens, her temper simmering behind the tape that's keeping her silent.

[nerves_of_ice]

"Your call," Rumlow assures him. He can hear the smirk in the man's voice, and ignores it. "Just, you don't know Cap like I do, is all. He's a hell of a fighter. Might even be a match for you. You might want the backup."

He makes himself consider the idea from all angles, and makes his decision. "Hold the perimeter as instructed. Prevent the targets' escaping - a third time," he says, pointedly. "Maintain plausible deniability."

"Fine, fine," Rumlow sighs. "Have it your way."

The Winter Soldier disconnects the call and stashes his phone before he crouches down beside Sharon. He picks up his mask and dons it, then lifts her into his arms and stands, starting toward her bedroom.

[from_the_outside]

He slips his arms beneath her and picks her up and all she can think of is him laughing up at her, down at her, picking her up like she weighs nothing at all, kissing her down into the bed.

She won't. Refuses to let it hit. Not yet, not now.

But she can't help her glance as it goes to the little pottery lamp he'd given her so long ago, sitting there on her bedside table.

[nerves_of_ice]

She looks over at something and his glance flicks to follow, but he doesn't see anything of interest. No weapons, no other phone to try to call for help, only a small ceramic piece of some kind. Maybe she was evaluating her odds of breaking it and using it as a makeshift knife to saw at her bindings.

She won't have the opportunity. He sets her down in the middle of the bed, then pulls at her ankles until she's laid out in a straight line, after which he flips the comforter up over her feet. He doesn't do the same for the edge that would cover her head; she'll need the airflow. Instead, he moves to the side so that he can do the same from there and roll her up in middle of the doubled blanket.

[from_the_outside]

He sets her down without any care other than to not drop her bodily on the bed and begins wrapping her up in her comforter, which at least allows her to work more busily at her bindings without fear of him seeing the minute shifts of her shoulders and hips.

She watches him as he moves around her, her gaze ruthlessly locked on him, looking for any sign, any hint, that the man she knew still lives inside that body.

[nerves_of_ice]

She watches him intently, at least until he finishes rolling her over and over in the comforter, wrapping her securely. Once he's done so, he pulls the outer edge hard, until it covers her face and head, then swings her up and drapes her over his right shoulder.

Once she's stable, he brings her to the window and shoves it fully open. He scans their surroundings, then unsnaps a grappling hook from behind his belt and attaches it to the windowsill. He grasps the cable in his left hand and steps out into space in a descent that's rapid enough to be nothing more than a controlled fall to the street below, carrying her with him.

[from_the_outside]

The shock of the fall sends her heart slamming into her ribs, but she can't make any sounds louder than a few muffled moans. She wishes, fervently, that she'd asked for an apartment a little closer to the ground floor.

But he doesn't drop her, thankfully, and at least the blanket is loose enough over her face that she can breathe, albeit only through her nose. Where he's taking her, she has no idea: she can't see and has no sense of direction. She might as well be blind.

[nerves_of_ice]

Moving quickly, he carries her across the street and down half a block to the vehicle. The Winter Soldier deposits her in the trunk and makes sure she has airflow before he slams it shut and gets into the front.

The engine roars, and he pulls out at a discreet pace. It's only a couple of miles from here to the ambush site.

[from_the_outside]

Darkness falls, and she only has to listen for a moment before she hears the engine start up and feels the car begin to move.

How much time she has, she doesn't know, but there's none to waste. In wrapping her up with the comforter, he'd made it far more difficult to maneuver herself, but a few moments of flopping like a fish on dry land loosens the comforter enough that she can move, a little.

She bends her knees and pushes her shoulders back as far as she can – Christ, she really should have been doing more yoga – trying to access the ties at her ankles with fingers that are swiftly going numb.

[nerves_of_ice]

The team's cleared the approach effectively, as ordered, although he makes note of the STRIKE tactical vehicle parked on the grass under a tree near the river as he passes it. Rumlow's definition of 'perimeter' could use some work, apparently.

He pulls up behind the edge of the World War II memorial and opens the trunk. The Winter Soldier considers the bundle of comforter, then lifts it over his left shoulder and grabs a duffel bag in his right hand before starting toward the nearby bell tower.

[from_the_outside]

By the time the car has stopped, she's managed to loosen, though not undo, the ties around her ankles. She feels likes she's dislocated both her shoulders in the process, but it's something.

When he opens the trunk and takes her out, she goes limp, making it as difficult for him to carry as possible – not that he seems to have any trouble with it.

Not that he ever did.

Carefully, she tests the ties at her ankles. With a sharp enough motion, she might be able to snap them and make a run for it.

[nerves_of_ice]

He sets her on the ground in the middle of the tower, under the bell, and pulls a knife. Deftly, he slits the comforter in two down the center of mass from the top of her head to her hips, leaving her lower body wrapped for now, and reaches for the duffel.

The parachute harness he withdraws is strong black nylon and black matte steel buckles. He starts fastening it around her with brusque efficiency.

[from_the_outside]

Well, fuck.

She doesn't have much choice; she has to work with what she's got, and what she's got are slightly loosened ankles. Rocking back, she lifts her legs and kicks, hard, trying to snap the ties and get a foot into his gut.

[nerves_of_ice]

He shifts to the side with lithe speed and brings his hand down on her stomach hard enough to drive the air from her, then gives her a flat stare. "Would you rather be unconscious?"

Something flickers in his glance, just for an instant; something almost like realization. "You can, if you prefer not to see it happen."

[from_the_outside]

She doubles over, desperate for breath, the tape fluttering over her mouth as she tries instinctively to gulp air. By the time she's forced herself to breathe deeply through her nose, she's so light-headed that it wouldn't be hard at all for her to simply slip into unconsciousness.

The way he says it, it's almost like he's offering mercy. She glares, fury and desperation mixed with the shock and confusion that hasn't gone anywhere, and meets his glance steadily, refusing to give in.

[nerves_of_ice]

He nods, reading her denial of that option in her eyes. "Then stop fighting me," he warns, and reaches to continue doing up the harness.

[from_the_outside]

He trusses her up in the harness as she watches his every move, searching for any hint that Bucky Barnes is alive inside his own mind, his own body. What did they do to him? What happened?

[nerves_of_ice]

He checks every buckle, every strap, then stands in a single swift movement. He retrieves two nylon climbing ropes from the bag and throws one end of each over the rafter that holds the bell, one on each side. He brings the loop ends back to her and uses two D-rings to clip the ropes to the harness at her shoulders.

With ruthless efficiency, he cuts the rest of the comforter away and checks her ties. Her ankles are loose, he finds, and tightens them again before he hauls her to her feet.

"Stand still," he orders, and pulls out her phone, aiming the camera at her.

[from_the_outside]

She stares at him as he aims her phone camera at her.

("Smile."

"Will you look at that?"

"Like magic, isn't it?")

With her hands tied and her mouth covered, she can't offer any kind of warning to Steve, any kind of preparation. All she can do is watch the Winter Soldier and hope that there's some way, somehow, of bringing him back to himself.

[nerves_of_ice]

He adds location data to the image, watching as it generates a small map image with a pin in it, and texts both to the targets' number with a succinct message.

proof of life. if you want her to stay that way, hurry.

That done, he grabs the ropes and hauls her upward. Once she's hanging midair below the tower bell, ten feet above ground, he ties them off and returns the bag and scraps of comforter to the trunk and slams it shut.