Chapter 8
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The soldier is awake now, has only been out of the cold for a few minutes and he finds his eyes drifting to the words on him, wondering if they are as he remembers. The words are important, he knows this somehow and when he sees them, he thinks of red and smiles, feels comforted and sad at the same time and he doesn’t know why. He has been told that they don’t matter, one set is to be ignored and the other is to lead to capture but for some reason, the orders just don’t feel quite right but he pushes the thought aside, follows where he is led and gets ready for his mission.
He is working alone for this one, will check in when it is finished and that is something he is used to but he knows he has worked with others before, teams and individual and some have been better to work with than others. Most of his memories are a blur but he almost gets a glimpse of red again, of softness but he pushes it aside, has to focus on his mission, on taking care of a group that needs to be taken care of. He has a few days if he needs it but it may not take that long and he will get it done.
The soldier starts taking care of them, going to one of their know hideouts, takes out all that are there. He keeps some alive a bit longer than others, find out where the rest of the group is before taking care of the mess. He gives himself time to rest at a nearby safe house, gives himself time to clean up though he will probably get more blood on his hands later. These deaths are not supposed to be clean or painless, they are meant to be harsh and cruel, a punishment for hurting Hydra. The soldier can do this, can be cruel when needed but it makes something in his stomach clench up a bit, doesn’t quite feel right to drag out screams from others but it is part of his mission and he will do it.
He makes it to the other base, sneaks in and watches for just a bit, catches bits of conversation. They don’t know that he is here, have no idea that their base is compromised and the soldier wonders how they have survived so long. Perhaps they are being terminated for incompetence and not just simply betrayal. He listens to their talk for a bit before starting his job.
“How roughed up is he now? Any permanent damage?”
One of the men asks another as they walk down the hall and the soldier listens to the answer.
“Nothing permanent, though he probably isn’t going to be able to talk for a few days, rope was pulled pretty tight and his throat is already bruising. They don’t want to kill him yet, want to see if we can soften him up a bit, see if he is willing to take an offer, might be useful. Hell of a shot from what I have seen.”
“He is, though the bow and arrows are still a bit weird. Does he think he’s Robin Hood or something?”
There is some more chatter after that but the soldier isn’t paying attention to it anymore, focusing on the words bow and arrow. It makes him tense up just a bit, a sort of worry and hope running through him and he doesn’t know why, finds himself moving in the direction that they came from, finding a room near by and he goes in, sees a figure on the floor and moves towards it without thinking, kneels down and looks at the figure.
It is a young man, blond hair a mess, skin covered in cuts and bruises ,and there is a ring of purple and red around his throat. The marks there stand out, an angry circle on pale skin and the soldier doesn’t like how it looks, wants to soothe it somehow. The feeling is strange and he finds himself putting metal things gentle against it.The touch causes eyes to open, for the body to shift and the soldier finds wide bluish eyes staring at him in shock now and he starts to move his hand, only for fingers to wrap around his wrist. The man is trying to talk right now, but his voice is not working and he is not strong right now, the soldier can see this. He looks like he is going to pass out again and the soldier simply puts his flesh hand on the man’s shoulder now, speaks calmly.
“You should rest. I will be back.”
Something about the words seem to comfort the man though the soldier doesn’t know why and he is given a weak nod, sees the man closes his eyes but he doesn’t take his fingers from the soldier’s wrist. He waits till the man is asleep and he moves his wrist away, goes to take care of his mission. He is quick and ruthless and the ones he heard speak in the hall of the man in the room suffer the most.
When it is done, he knows he needs to leave but the soldier also needs to do something about the man in the room. He isn’t a target, or at least the soldier does not think he is a target, but he can not be left here. He should probably eliminate him just as he did the others but the thought makes him hurt inside so he does the only thing he can think of right now, goes back to the room and takes the man with him, will decide what to do soon.
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The first thing Clint is aware of when he wakes is the pain. He hurts, in all sorts of different ways, soreness, stiffness, and he almost feels like some parts of him are burning. The second thing he becomes aware of is that he is no longer on hard concrete, is on some sort of bed and he wonders how he got here. The third thing he becomes aware is that he isn’t alone, someone else is here and Clint sees the glint of metal, can see a familiar figure come closer to the bed and Clint had thought that he had dreamed that before.
His marked is here, the winter soldier is here, and Clint has been looking for him, trying to find him. It is what he was doing before those goons got ahold of him and he wants so badly to say something but his throat burns and the soldier is handing him something now, has sat down next to him on the bed.
“I need you to write your name, need to know who you are. Please.”
He doesn’t seem to recognize Clint at all, is asking for his name and Clint can feel his heart ache just a bit, remembers their talk from before. The soldier isn’t allowed to remember things and he doesn’t remember Clint. All this time looking for him and he doesn’t remember him but Clint still takes the pad, quickly writes down some words though he feels exhausted and whishes he could talk.
Clint Barton. I know you, we met before do you remember?
Clint writes the question, is pretty sure he knows the answer but he wants to hear it. There are other questions he wants to ask, like where has he been, did they hurt him, did he leave Clint or was he taken, but he asks that one first. There is a shake of the soldier’s head now as he sees Clint’s words and a tension that seems to settle over him.
“Were we allies?”
He asks now and Clint is wondering if he should tell him about the words or not, so he settles on sort of truth and writes it down quickly.
Kind of allies had a plan together, didn’t work out
Clint really wants to know why it didn’t work out, why he wasn’t there when Clint went back but he can’t get the words out and it doesn’t seem right to write them. The soldier just looks at the words for a moment before shaking his head.
“I don’t remember but I couldn’t leave you there. You need nutrients. Do you think you could drink something now?”
He says all this and Clint gives a little nod. The soldier gets up now, leaves the room and Clint feels a tiny bit of panic run through him now and he tries to get up but can’t quite manage it. His body is not in great shape, pretty sure several ribs are broken and his throat is bruised, and he collapses into the bed again, just lays there and closes his eyes. He isn’t sure how much time passes but he feels the bed sink a bit and the soldier is back, helps Clint sit up, hands him a cup filled with some sort of shake.
“Drink this slowly.”
Clint does and it had no taste but it is something for his stomach and he can’t remember the last time he ate. He had been at that base the last three days and a lot of it is a blur. He had gone through pain before, been beaten and hurt by others, but this was more intense, more constant and he hadn’t been able to run this time. It has been a rough few days but now he has his marked back and maybe Clint will be able to keep him this time, help him this time. He finishes up the cup and then lays back down and the soldier stays with him, watches him right now and he murmurs a bit as he does so.
“I want to keep you safe, don’t know why.”
He says this now, has fingers running through Clint’s hair and it is calming and nice. He feels really sleepy again, almost unnatural drowsy and something in his stomach clenches just a bit, a feeling of worry overcoming him and the soldier’s next words do nothing to ease that worry.
“I couldn’t leave you there but I can’t take you with me, check in is soon. I’ll get you somewhere safe, wish I could remember you.”
There is a bit of longing in those words and Clint grabs ahold of his flesh hand, grips it as tightly as he can, and is shaking his head no. He doesn’t want to leave him again, doesn’t want to have to worry that he won’t find him again but the darkness is dragging him down now and all Clint can do is let it, to give in.
When next he wakes, he is in a hospital bed, being looked over and his throat is still raw and everything still hurts. The nurse is kind, gets him some water and tells him that he was dropped off at one of the entrances. He nods and answers their question when he is given something to write with and he tries not to think about how he missed his marked again, couldn’t keep him for a second time.
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The soldier leaves the man at a nearby hospital, makes his check in and doesn’t mention the archer at all. He isn’t asked if there were prisoners there and so it isn’t really disobeying an order, isn’t lying. He still isn’t quite sure why the man, Clint, needed to be kept safe, just knows that he did and the solider has managed that for now. It is a thought that comforts him as he is lead to the chair, as pain curses through him and the mission is wiped from his mind.
The soldier sleeps, maybe for minutes, maybe for months, maybe for years. He never knows how long he sleeps for, just knows that he dreams when he does, has fuzzy images in his head that feel real, feel like a dream at the same time. Images of cleaning blood off of too skinny arms, red hair soft against his fingers, and of chocolate bars being handed to him with callused hands. The dreams always disappear after he wakes though he tries to hold onto them and today is no different, he tries to keep the dreams in his head as he is lead to the machine, as his mind is put into a blank slate.
A mission is given, he is to take apart a former alley’s base, leave it in tatters, kill most there. It is something he has done before and something tells him that he has done it recently though he can’t remember . He is given one final order before he leaves, one to do with one set of his words and it is different from the orders given before.
“If those two words are spoken to you, shoot who ever says them. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
The soldier says it atomically, knows that he has to obey orders but it makes something in him hurt to know that the orders have changed. He pushes the thought aside and gets ready for the mission, knows that he will have to complete it, and he will.
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It has been over a year, almost two since Natasha last saw her soldier and the words have come back the same since then. Things are changing, there are rumors that some of their partnerships with other agencies have gone sour and one of them may have been the agency in control of the soldier. It is worrisome but Natasha tries to reassure herself, the words have always been spoken after they appeared and these have not yet. She will see the soldier again.
She goes about her business, does her missions and does them well but she still wishes for those words to be spoken, longs to hear them. It will be so good to see him again, Natasha is sure of it and hopefully it will be soon. She thought about him all through this last mission and the words had appeared on her skin again this morning but she pushes the thought of him aside as she returns back to the base. She goes over her briefing and then finds herself alone in her room.
It is late but she isn’t asleep, can’t sleep right now. She goes sits in the dark, hands trailing over the words on her skin. They will be cut off soon and she wants to keep the feel of them in her mind. They don’t matter, not really, but they are a reminder that she has something that is almost hers in a way. She thinks about the other words for a moment but they still don’t feel real to her, never change and have never been spoken so they matter even less than the other ones. Natasha pushes the thought of the words away when something catches her eyes, the light outside her door flickering for just a moment. It was just a few seconds but it lets her know that something is wrong and she leaves her room, can hear something drop down the hall as she does. Someone is here, they are under attack and she needs to decide if it is best to fight or flee or hide.
Natasha chooses to hide, goes to one of the storage rooms, puts herself behind some of the shelves. It will give her a chance, she knows this area, it is cluttered and hard to move around and it will give her an advantage. She should be able to take out whoever it is but there are some who are faster than her, who are stronger than her, and the fact that someone has managed to get in here without being noticed at first is a sign that she is dealing with a threat. She hides and waits for the threat to seek her out, keeps her knives close to her. It does not take long and she soon hears heavy steps, knows she is being allowed to hear those steps and then a voice speaks in the dimness of this room and it makes a chill run through her.
“Skrytyye veshchi vsegda nakhodyat.”
Those words are on her skin right now and she didn’t think they would be spoken like this, as she hides in the dark, as he looks for her. Her heart is beating quickly and there is no point in hiding now, he is going to find her and all she can do is face him. She steps away from her hiding place, steps to where she is in his eye line and she says two words, hope that they are enough, hopes that his orders haven’t changed.
“James. Winter.”
Two words, two names, names she has called him, names that mean more to her than they should. She can see him, see his eyes widen for just a moment before his expression turns to steel and his hand moves quickly. The shot is quick, hits her before she has a chance to move but she throws a knife at him, knows that it sinks into flesh. It isn’t enough to kill, will barely be a wound but there is a bit of satisfaction in knowing she has made him bleed just like he has made her bleed. She is bleeding, blood pouring down her side and she is a bit surprised that the shot was not to the head. He could have done it, she as seen him do it before but he did not this time and she doesn’t know why.
He moves forward now, quick and graceful as always and Natasha responds in kind, dodges and hits when she can. They used to spar when she was younger and she wishes that she could think of it as sparring still but she knows that it isn’t. There is nothing of her teacher right now, she is seeing the weapon and he gets her in a hold, metal hand wrapped around her neck and she knows what he can do with that. She wonders if she will hear her own neck snap. The sound doesn’t come, instead there is pressure placed on her throat, air being cut off. She can feel darkness start to claim her but this isn’t going to kill her, she is sure of it, and she wonders why he isn’t going for the kill. It is the last thought she has before she passes out.
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The soldier holds the redhead for just a moment after darkness claims her, places her down instead of letting her drop. She said two of the words on his skin and he followed his orders, shot her. It was not a killing blow and he won’t finish her off, can’t. Instead, he rips off part of her shirt sleeve, places the cloth on her wound as a sort of make shift bandage. She is the only one still alive on the base, though she is wounded and he finds himself going to one of the control room and pushes the call button, lets a signal be sent out. He tells himself that it is part of the mission, they want the base to be found, for this to be a warning but a part of him knows it is so she will be found, so she won’t bleed out on the floor. He pushes that thought away and leaves, goes back to his own base, tells a version of the truth and then is put back to sleep, the last thought he has is how she said those names, like they were his, like they mattered and he tells himself that she will live even if he never sees her again.
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Natasha wakes up in another base, pale and shaking but alive. A handler is there, questions her as soon as she is awake and she tells the truth or a version of it. She speaks about him finding her, speaks of the shot and throwing the knife but she doesn’t mention speaking to him, doesn’t mention the words that no longer grace her skin. They don’t matter, can’t matter, and she was tricking herself that they did matter. They are both weapons and those who wield them are no longer working together so she will not see him again. When she is left alone, she has a thought, one she needs to forget about. She thinks that maybe she should have ran with him when she had the chance. She didn’t take the chance and now there is no going back, she has to forge ahead and forget that once there was something she could have called hers.
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