Burning

Bucky had been right. It took a few minutes for Natasha to meet his eyes, but only a few seconds for him to see recognition reflected in those emeralds of hers. Shaken and unsteady on her feet, she accepted his assistance in standing and the two limped their way slowly to the quinjet.

Bucky had slipped the communicator from her ear, not wanting to add any stress to her recovery, but he continued to listen in as Ironman and the Hulk battled it out on the streets of South Africa. It sounded bad, if he was honest with himself, but the Winter Soldier joining the fray wouldn’t help things. Instead, he stayed close to his girlfriend, providing whatever physical or emotional support he could.

Eventually the battle subsided and Stark hurried an unconscious Bruce Banner onto the jet. Bucky was careful to keep his face blank, his conflicting feelings bottled up inside. Sure, he was still mad as hell at Stark and Banner that they had created this danger and had, quite literally, gotten them into this mess. But upon seeing the distraught look on Stark’s face and the bruises on Banner’s body, his fury was quickly boiling down to cold pity.

As the jet lifted from the ground, Bucky felt Natasha’s small hand slip into his, drawing him from his thoughts. His eyes followed her hand as she gestured to the blanket Steve was wrapping around Banner’s bare shoulders.

“I think one of those would be nice,” Natasha said, her voice sounding shockingly weak to his ears.

Though it troubled him to hear anything but strength from the legendary Black Widow, the most confident and capable woman he has ever known, he didn’t comment. Instead he gently helped her take a seat and lean back against the wall while he moved toward a supply closet.

He was making his way back, blanket in hand, when Clint called to him from the cockpit.

“She okay?” his friend asked as he approached, words laced with concern.

Bucky glanced back at Natasha, whose head was leaning back against the wall, eyes closed, arms wrapped around herself.

“‘Bout the same as them,” he replied with a shrug, indicating Steve and Thor with his metal hand.

The other two heroes had also found their own private corners of the quinjet, Thor quietly pacing with clenched fists, Steve’s head lowered with a pained expression.

Clint grunted. “Great.”

Stark approached Clint’s left side, offering to take a turn in the pilot’s seat, which Clint declined.

“I’m fine,” the archer replied. “We’re just a few hours out.”

“A few hours from where?” Stark asked.

“Safe house.”

That was enough for Stark, who turned to go find a seat, but alarm bells suddenly sounded in Bucky’s head. He slid into the copilot seat, anxiously clutching the blanket tightly in his lap.

“Safe house?” he whispered, glancing around to make sure no one else was listening. “Are you sure you want to expose your family to this?”

Clint took a long breath of air, in and out, before turning to meet Bucky’s eyes. “You know someplace else where we can lay low?”

“Yeah, actually,” James bit back. “There’s a small hideaway I used to use in Romania, another in Latveria. Hell, there are a hundred places in Russia where we could disappear.”

“Buck.” Clint placed a steady hand on his forearm, his voice calm and even. “This team has too many secrets. It’s time to start clearing them out.”

—-

Natasha didn’t want to move when she felt the landing cycle kick in. She had spent the flight nestled up to James, head on his chest, his metal arm draped protectively across her shoulders. Though the comfortable thoughtlessness of sleep had eluded her, she had kept her eyes closed during the trip, feigning sleep. She didn’t need to see her teammates glancing at her with concern. She didn’t need any of them asking if she was okay. She didn’t need to see the haunted look reflecting in Steve or Thor’s or Bruce’s eyes.

Instead, she took the few short hours to sort through her own thoughts. It helped having the comfort of James’ body against her, reminding her that despite the horror of losing him to countless mind wipes, they were back together. And despite Hydra trying to erase their love, he remembered her.

While she usually kept her feelings about the Red Room carefully packed away, in the dark quiet of the quinjet Nat allowed herself to explore them again. Wanda had already reminded her of the waves of hurt and hopelessness, the despair of not being able to choose her own future or protect her sister, or the man she loved. Having relived those moments now gave way to something else entirely.

Natasha felt foolish. She had been conditioned to follow the words of her handlers without question, but she wasn’t brainwashed like James had been. She had made a choice during each mission to follow orders. She had participated in the cruelty of the Red Room for so many years without even allowing herself to wonder about the pain she was inflicting on the world. The Red Room’s poison had soaked her through and through, to the point where it had even colored her relationship with James. It had been the Winter Soldier’s unstoppable, efficient brutality that had initially attracted her before she ever saw the man behind the mask.

And if she was honest with herself, she still felt that rush of heat whenever she watched him fight. Did that mean she still held the evil of the Red Room inside?

She fought to keep her expression neutral as she sorted through such unpleasant thoughts. James had only recently brought up the memory of their mission to Vegas, when she had convinced him to let the innocent witness go. It was true that she tried to keep the killing to a minimum, especially near the end of her servitude. But the lives she had saved didn’t number as high as the lives she had taken.

Cold nausea settled into the pit of her stomach. She could have refused to assassinate anyone, but the Madame would have had her killed instead. She could have defected sooner. She could have suggested to James that they run away together before they wiped his mind. But despite his strong feelings for her, he had always been truly terrified of consequences from Hydra. Would he have agreed to go with her? Could the two assassins simply disappear from all they knew?

Nat didn’t have time to speculate further, as she felt the jet gently touch down. She finally stirred, slipping out from James’ embrace and rising to her feet. Stretching and shaking her red hair from her face, she carefully put her thoughts to rest and turned her eyes to the slowly lowering exit ramp of the jet.

A familiar sight of a wooden house on green pastures startled her. She turned back to glance at James, not bothering to hide the confusion on her face.

“Clint’s choice. It’s a good place to recover,” he replied with a shrug.

His voice was calm, comforting, but his eyes searched hers with obvious concern.

Natasha took another look at the farmhouse, one of the true safe havens in the world. A place she has always found restful, relaxing. Where she felt comfortable enough to be herself and catch up with friends.

“I’ll be okay,” she reassured her boyfriend. “I think this is just what I need.”

—-

She and James hung near the back of the group, him still supporting her as they walked. Though she probably had the strength to make it to the house on her own, it felt comforting to lean on his powerful body. She heard Clint calling to his wife inside, announcing their arrival as she made her way up the porch steps, and, sadly, she missed the first look on the Avengers’ faces when they realized their teammate had a secret family.

“Did you bring Auntie Nat?” A small voice floated up from the crowd, and Natasha couldn’t help but grin. The affection of that little girl was all she needed to let go of James’ arm and push her way through her teammates inside.

“Why don’t you come hug her and find out?” she quipped, scooping Clint’s young daughter into her arms. Lila giggled and wrapped her arms around Natasha’s neck, and Nat felt all of her tension and sadness evaporate immediately. She squeezed her eyes closed, savoring the feeling.

But a split second later, the girl squirmed and pushed away. “Uncle Bucky!” she squealed, leaning toward James, arms outstretched.

“Hey kiddo,” James cooed, pulling Lila from Natasha’s arms for his own hug.

“See?” Tony snapped, drawing Nat’s attention back to the situation at hand. “Clearly, these are smaller agents. There’s no way ‘Uncle Bucky’ is a thing.”

Natasha moved to greet Laura, who looked somewhat flustered but still held a small smile of amusement. The lovely Mrs. Barton was glowing, as usual, and she did her best to lean over her pregnant belly to embrace Nat.

The only disappointment of the afternoon was finding out that the Bartons were going to have another boy instead of the daughter they had initially expected. “It’s Nathanial,” Laura said with an apologetic frown.

“Still a solid name,” James commented with a grin, reaching in to give Laura a hug of his own.

“I am… sorry,” Thor interrupted, drawing all eyes to himself. He cleared his throat and began stepping backward. “I cannot linger here.”

Steve followed their friend outside, voicing the confusion they all felt. But Nat didn’t try to stop the Asgardian. If Wanda had given him a vision, he would have to sort through it his own way.

Just as she was trying to do.

“I actually just made some lemonade,” Laura said to the group, her voice keeping Nat from plunging back into dark memories.

“I’ll help you,” she said, following her friend to the kitchen.

—-

The Bartons’ hospitality was generous, as usual. The team was able to shower, change into clean clothes, and fill their bellies with a simple but abundant meal. Unfortunately, the team was so fractured, it’s members so wounded that the mood of the evening remained dark. Bucky did his best to relax and enjoy himself, however, and he was glad to see Natasha doing the same.

His icy eyes followed his lover as she moved about the kitchen, helping Laura dry and put away the dishes. The two were in their own world of lighthearted conversation. Probably about the kids, he assumed. Catching up on events from their last visit.

Bucky took a pull from his bottle of beer and rubbed his forehead with his real hand, fatigue settling in about his shoulders. While this little intermission was good for his heart, he couldn’t help but worry at what their downtime was costing them in the long run. The Avengers were at the breaking point. He hadn’t been able to convince the twins to leave Ultron. And, most importantly, they had no idea where Ultron was or what the monster’s next move would be.

“Uncle Bucky?”

A small voice at his elbow interrupted his thoughts, and Bucky looked down to see Lila clutching a piece of paper. The girl smiled up at him, turning the page to show a rough drawing.

With an arm drawn all in grey crayon, there was no mistaking the figure at the center of it.

“Is this me?” he asked, pointing to the page.

Lila nodded, then pointed to an orange triangle with red polka dots. “Yeah, and that’s pizza.”

Bucky let himself chuckle. “How did you know that’s my favorite food?”

“Cuz it’s mine too,” the girl said with a shrug, as if the child’s simple logic explained everything.

“Thanks, Lila. I love it,” he replied, mussing her hair before she scampered off.

His eyes moved upward to find Steve, sitting across the table, staring at the picture, his expression unreadable.

“Hey man,” Bucky tried, his voice lowered. “How are you doing?”

His friend blinked and gave his head a small shake, purposefully drawing himself out of his thoughts.

“Oh, I’m… ah…” Steve ran a hand through his hair. “I’m just tired. Long day.”

Bucky frowned in response. Steve wasn’t giving him the whole truth. Like some of his other teammates, his friend hadn’t been the same since their encounter with Wanda. He tried again.

“There aren’t enough bedrooms for everybody. Wanna camp out in the living room? We could pull the cushions off the couch, like when we were kids.”

That brought the smallest of smiles to Steve’s face, but it disappeared just as quickly.

“No, I’ll take the couch. That’s okay. You stay with Nat.”

His friend pushed out his chair and slowly rose to his feet, tossing his empty beer bottle in the recycling bin. Steve began to move toward the couch, but paused and glanced over his shoulder.

“Thanks anyway, Buck. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Bucky nodded, letting his friend go.