Chapter 21
Now
Natasha was tired. The past week had taken a toll on her body and mind. But seeing Bucky and Sam here and safe had given her a burst of energy, and for a second, she felt like her old self.
They caught each other up on what had happened after Sam had left to help Bucky. Natasha had woken up with a gnarly new surgical scar, held together with staples, hopped up on morphine. The doctors and nurses, security guards, and Zemo were all gone. The only person there was a brusque French Canadian nurse who either spoke no English or refused to speak English. Natasha’s French was rusty, especially in her drugged state. She’d tried to ask about Zemo. The nurse had shrugged, “Qui est-ce?” (Who is that?) It could be an act. But it could also be that Zemo had used a false name, had layers upon layers of people who didn’t know whose thumb they were under.
When she’d been awake few hours, Sam cane back for her. He’d told her Zemo was gone, and Haverly was dead. He asked if she could travel. She could. He helped her into the van, which took them to a rest stop just outside the border. A friend of Sam’s met them there and they caught a military escort back across the border. Best way to avoid questions.
Bucky was there with Sam, of course. But he wasn’t speaking. She had looked at Sam questioningly, and he’d given her a warning look. Don’t ask. So she hadn’t. Bucky seemed to be in some sort of daze, anyway. Explanations could wait. As they crossed the border, Bucky stiffened suddenly. With anxiety, probably. Fear of being arrested by the U.S. government. There had been nothing on the news about Haverly’s death - one point during the trip, she reached a hand out ever so gently and grabbed Bucky’s hand, held it tight. She held on until she fell asleep. She slept on and off the whole way back to D.C. Compared to the quick jaunt on a private jet, the 12 hour trek by humvee was long, bumpy, and tedious. She groaned with every bump in the road. Sam gave her some pain medication when she started taking a turn for the worse, and she accepted gratefully, fell asleep on a makeshift pillow of empty camo duffel bags.
She had insisted she would be fine, but Sam wasn’t having it. He made her check into the hospital under a fake name, where they gave her fluids. Bucky was a little more high profile. He had been physically fine, apart from the bruises around his neck. But mentally…Sam hadn’t been so sure. He hadn’t wanted to leave him alone. So he’d called up Clint, had Bucky go stay with him for a while. As far as Sam knew, Clint and Bucky never spoke about why he was there. She knew that Clint was good at keeping to himself and giving space - it was one of her favorite things about him. Sam hadn’t mentioned Natasha’s injury - just as well, or Clint would have insisted on sitting by her bedside. Instead it was Sam who sat by her side, making sure she had everything she needed and also ensuring she didn’t give the slip to the hospital staff.
Clint had dropped Bucky at Sam’s place that same day. Nat wanted to see him. She needed to know he was okay. Sam relented, and that’s how the three of them ended up on Sam’s couch, eating pizza and drinking beer like the events of the past 2 weeks had never even happened.
They’d kept the conversation light for a while. She’d finished telling her side of what had happened in Canada. But she needed to know what Zemo had gotten them into.
“Zemo set us up,” said Sam. “I suspect he had multiple reasons to want Haverly dead. But Haverly was never after Bucky.”
“So, Haverly was innocent?” she asked, concerned.
“Hardly,” said Sam. His face darkened. He glanced at Bucky.
“It’s okay,” said Bucky. “She should know. She almost died for this, after all.”
“Almost died? Give me a little more credit, Buck. It was a flesh wound.” She laughed, and he smiled back.
“Do you want to tell it?” said Sam.
Bucky nodded. Took a slug of beer. His eyes looked clearer than they had last week. The bruises on his neck were gone - courtesy of accelerated healing.
Bucky’s voice was soft, but steady. The voice of an innocent man testifying at a trial.
“I think that Zemo sees himself as some kind of…puppetmaster. He wanted to get me in a room with that man, because he knew how I’d react. Sam saw him watching a video feed of the safe house. I don’t think he wanted me to suffer. In a way, I think he thought he was doing me a favor. Letting me confront the man who’d hurt me worse than anyone.”
Natasha swallowed hard. She could hear the implication in Bucky’s words.
“He wasn’t one of the goons who beat me. Not all the time, anyway. It was worse than that. He thought he owned me. He treated me as if…as if I was a lover. And he tried to convince me I loved him. Sometimes he’d threaten Steve. He’d tell me that Steve would live if I…played nice with him. I hated it so much. But I wanted to save Steve.”
His voice cracked slightly at the mention of Steve, the stoicism breaking away.
“Anyway, that man…Haverly, or whatever his real name was…he raped me and then made me believe I wanted it. Made me believe I asked for it. The others took my body, but he nearly took my soul. I barely knew who I was, but most of the time I knew that “the real me” was something other than the Winter Soldier. But when I was with him, I started to think that maybe the real me was someone worse than the soldier. Someone disgusting. Someone not worth saving. And once that’s in your mind, it’s hard to get rid of it. I guess I’ve been carrying it with me ever since.”
Natasha’s heart ached for him. She knew the feeling of being mentally manipulated and physically used. But whatever had happened to her, he’d had it worse.
“Can I?” she asked, reaching a hand out. He nodded, still looking at the floor. She touched his shoulder. He reached across his body and grabbed her other hand, holding it like a life like as he continued his story.
“When that piece of shit was in front of me, it took everything I had not to kill him. But he was counting on it. Counting on me losing control. He baited me. He had some kind of syringe, it made me weak. And then he choked me out.” He was still speaking clinically, matter-of-factly. “It was a miracle that Sam came when he did. I don’t think I had long left.”
“I thought you were gone,” said Sam.
“You brought me back though,” smiled Bucky. “Like a knight in shining armor and whatnot.”
The three of them chuckled softly.
“I don’t regret killing that asshole for one moment,” said Sam. “In a strange way, I’m grateful for Zemo giving me the chance to put him down.”
“No sign of Zemo then? No contact?“ Natasha asked.
“Not so far,” said Sam. “He came, he stirred up the shit, then he got outta dodge. Kinda his M.O. But next time I see him I’m gonna slap him right in that smug little face.”
“Let’s hope that’s not any time soon,” said Nat.
They were all getting tired. Sam insisted that Nat stay over and take his bed. “Only if Bucky will share it with me,” she said.
“Do you two need a chaperone?” Sam teased.
“No offense Nat, but I think we should just stay friends,” Bucky said with a grin. She laughed in return. Whatever had been between them before, now he felt to her like a brother, a confidant. Like a war buddy. In some ways, they’d been in the same foxhole. There was no romance, but plenty of love.
“Alright, I’ll take the couch,” said Sam. You crazy kids get some rest. You’re both still on the mend.”
Later, as Bucky and Nat lay facing each other, half asleep, she whispered to him in the dark:
“I just need you to know one thing, Bucky. The real you is good. Steve loved you, and he didn’t give love to just anyone. You had to earn it. And you? He loved you more than anyone. That’s how I know that you are good. And I will always, always be here for you.
Bucky didn’t say anything. His eyes filled with tears. He finally croaked out a whispered, “thank you.” He took Nat’s hand, and held onto it until they both fell asleep.