Nightmares
(about nine months after the graduation ceremony)
They spent the night in a run-down motel on the side of the road, somewhere in the countryside of western Russia. Natalia didn’t really know where. They were returning from a mission in Kazan, leaving two Russian moles dead. She of course hadn’t known what they had done, something along the lines of selling Russian intelligence to foreign countries? Natalia was rarely ever informed on the reason behind the mission, she just got the order to kill.
She could barely sleep though, the motel wasn’t a secure location, and she could envision anyone barging in through that flimsy door at any moment. Her gun was already loaded, sitting on the small night table next to the only queen bed in the room. James was asleep to her right, claiming the side of the bed closest to the door with no option for her to argue. How could she even argue with him?
At around 1 in the morning was when things went downhill. James started stirring. Quietly and only slightly at first. He would sigh, whimper a little, but it was nothing that Natalia hadn’t experienced herself. Nightmares had became a common thing for her, but she fought them and never let the effects show on her face.
But James’ nightmares were different. They slowly built up until he was lashing out, punching and yelling in his sleep. Natalia didn’t want to draw any attention to their room, somebody might hear the noise, not to mention the fact that she wanted to get him out of that painful state quickly.
Without giving it a second thought, she shook him awake. A bit roughly after he didn’t wake when she first touched him gently. His eyes opened, yet Natalia could tell he wasn’t actually awake. His eyes gave no sign of recognition towards her and were filled with fear, anger and rage.
That’s when he hit her. James had never hit her (unless during sparring), especially not intentionally. His refusal to giving harsh and physical punishment was the first sign she had received that he was different from any other trainer she had been trained under.
His attack started as a slap from his metal arm that would surely leave a mark, and then followed by punches to her gut. He soon enough pinned her to the bed, using his metal arm, which was followed by a punch was thrown to her cheek, arm, and chest, in which he used his flesh hand.
Alarmed, she kicked her way out of his grasp and stood on the floor, her hands ready. “It’s just sparring. It’s just sparring,” she repeated in her head, yet why did this feel so much more aggressive, like she was actually fighting him, for real? The last thing she wanted to do was hurt him. But she didn’t want to return with more injuries that Madame B would question. So, she fought.
But James wasn’t James. He was the brainwashed Winter Solider at that moment. He landed kicks to her sides, charged at her with full force, held her against a wall and punched her with no relent. Natalia wasn’t winning this fight, and now she was fearing her life.
As he was about to throw another punch to her head, one that would knock her out for sure, he stopped. A flash of recognition passed through his eyes and suddenly that spell he was in subsided. He looked in horror at Natalia who now fell to the ground, gasping for breath.
“No… no…” he breathed. He didn’t do… he did? What did he do?! The thoughts in his head were fuzzy, yet the message was clear. He had done this to his Natalia. “No… no…”
He bent down to her level and brushed her hair out of her face with the tips of his metal fingers. Natalia couldn’t help herself, she flinched, and it caused a wave of guilt to flash across James’ face.
“I’m so, so sorry, Natalia,” he whispered. A silent tear made a wet trail down his cheek. He didn’t make an effort to wipe it off. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m okay,” she stated. But James shook his head.
“Let me see,” he said instead. It was what he always said when he would check her wounds, and she would often return the statement when she would help clean his (though she tended to gain more than he did).
Natalia shook her head. She didn’t want him to torture himself like that. Once he'd see what he'd done, she knew he wouldn’t forgive himself.
“Let me see, Natalia,” he said again, his voice still somehow had that softness to it.
Natalia eventually let up and faced him. He started with her face, the pads of his fingers lightly touching each bruise. He would suck in a breath when he saw the bad ones, the ones that were already turning a midnight shade of purple. Then he moved to her arms, checking each bone to make sure he didn’t break anything. Luckily, nothing but a few scrapes and bruises. Next was her torso. He lifted the hem of her nightshirt to reveal a whole new cluster of bruises and cuts. Still mostly bruises, but when he felt her ribcage, he found that a rib was fractured. He shook his head at that. It would be painful, and take a while to recover, Madame B wouldn’t like it. Lastly, he ran his hand along her legs nothing but a few swelling spots but nothing major.
“I did this to you,” he sighed, locking eye contact with her. His eyes full of remorse and regret. “I hurt you.”
“I know that wasn’t you, James,” Natalia shook her head.
“But it still hurt the same,” he stated, eyeing the gash at her hairline, still dripping a bit of blood.
Natalia hated it when he blamed himself for something he had no control over. If anything, it was her fault that she had woken him up like that. Yet she didn’t mention it. He would still blame himself anyways.
“You will never hurt me,” she said and leaned into him. He took the opportunity to wrap his arms around her, lightly, fearing that he would accidentally press too hard on her fractured rib. She melted into his touch, laying her head on his chest, listening to his calming heartbeat. “James, you will never hurt me.”
James only kissed the top of her head in response.
o0o
(present day about a week after bringing James to NY)
It started with his nightmares. Surprisingly, on his first few nights, he slept soundly. Maybe from over-exhaustion? Usually, it was hard for even Natasha to rest peacefully in an unfamiliar location filled with new people milling around in the same building, but he had done it- possibly due to Steve being right next door? Natasha didn’t really know.
Even with Steve’s encouragement, and her own “set-in-stone” decision she made to not avoid him purposefully, she found that they had kept their distance from one another. There was small talk made over breakfast, and sometimes they would both be in the training room at the same time (her running with resistance bands and him boxing a punching bag), but they never went out of their way to seek each other out.
James was quiet. He didn’t seem to hate the other Avengers in the building, but when too many people were in a room or a conversation became too overwhelming, he would retreat to his designated bedroom and stay there for the majority of the day.
Overall, they didn’t purposefully spend more time together than needed. Yet that all changed one night.
Natasha was reading a book. One that Steve recommended from his time period. She thought it was decent, yet she found it too informational. Usually she would choose her books as an outlet from the world, finding solace in the characters’ stories and struggles on facing their own plot. And when she read, all her worries seemed to fade. But this book? She quite honestly thought it was a bit bland.
Then, all of a sudden, she heard a faint thud that brought her attention off of the book and onto the doorway. She was seated in the living room again, and everyone else was asleep, given it was three in the morning.
There was another thud, louder this time, followed by a grunt. Half curious and half worried, Natasha got up from the couch and walked through the hallway to where the noise had come from.
Steve liked to rearrange his room often. He moved the furniture around to create a whole new look to his living space about once a month, but he was considerate enough not to do this while everyone was asleep.
She walked to where the noise had come from, either Steve’s room or… James’. There it was again, another thud and a groan. And it definitely came from James’ room. She opened the door slowly, trying her best not to startle him in any way.
As she stood in the doorway, the dim light flooding in from the hallway revealed James tossing and turning in the sheets. His face had beads of sweat dripping from his temple and overall, he looked frazzled. Probably a nightmare.
“Net, ya ne budu etogo delat’,” he spoke. His voice was raspy and hitched.
He was speaking in Russian, not a good sign. His nightmare could easily turn ugly extremely fast. She felt hesitant to wake him up, to comfort him, yet her heart wouldn’t just let him suffer alone.
Like she had done countless times before, when he would get nightmares on missions or when she slept in his bed, she pressed her palm to his forehead and rubbed her other fingertips up and down his flesh bicep. It was a calming technique she had first used years ago, during the second time he had lashed out in his sleep (the first didn’t turn out so well). Natasha didn’t know how she had learned it, but the movement always calmed him down and woke him up peacefully.
And like those countless times before, he woke up with a start. His eyelids fluttered and his breathing quickened. Once his eyes met hers he backed away from her touch, almost scared of her at first, then calmed down.
Natasha held her hands in her lap now, reminding herself that he didn’t know her. That she can’t just touch him without his permission. Even if she was doing it kindly, she knew he still was getting used to the feeling of contact. It was something that had taken years for her to accept openly. Unwanted touches were the last thing he needed.
She opened her mouth to speak. Skipping that ‘are you alright?’ nonsense. “Was it bad?”
James sat up in bed, revealing his half naked form. His chest was all muscle, and the sight of it had the same effect on Natasha as it had years ago. But she forced herself not to look there, but at his eyes. And those blue eyes had a beauty all of their own, so it wasn’t a bad trade.
“What did you do?” he questioned instead of answering the question she had asked.
“I applied pressure to your temple, then did rhythmic strokes on your arm,” she explained plainly. He shook his head to her response.
“But it woke me up, without me lashing out. How did you know to do that?” he persisted.
“I’ve had experience in that arena,” she shrugged out the half-truth.
As they sat in silence, James thought she was going to ask him the question. The question everyone asked. The question Steve had asked him when he found him trapped in a nightmare a few nights before. The ‘do you want to talk about it?’ question.
James knew it wasn’t a demand, and was always spoken softly, and with kindness, yet he got annoyed with it every single time. It felt pushy, even if it was asked in innocence. He found it different, but refreshing, that Natasha didn’t ask this question.
And for some odd reason, it made him want to tell her. He found her presence comforting, which was unusual. He never found comfort in a stranger, but she was different. Even with this feeling, James’ head won over his heart, and he kept the nightmare to himself.
“I’ll be in the living room. Call if you need anything,” she smiled at him kindly then left the room.
Once again, this feeling overcame James, seeming like it had come from nowhere. He suddenly felt like he wanted her to stay. He wanted to stop her from leaving the room. He wanted to reach out and grab her hand. But he did nothing. Just sat there and watched her leave, wondering what in the world those feelings meant, and where in the world they came from.
***
It happened again two nights later. Though this time, Natasha entered James’ room due to a cry. A heart-wrenching cry. He was shaking, convulsing almost. His nightmare must’ve been horrible to leave him in this state.
Quickly, before he became violent, she sat on the edge of his bed, placed pressure to his temple and rubbed his arm. It took longer to take him out of the nightmare this time. He stayed asleep, though his body had calmed for the most part. He eventually woke but didn’t move away from her touch like last time. Instead, he just laid there, as silent tears soaked his pillow.
Before Natasha even noticed her actions, she began to run her hands through his hair. His soft hair. And it surprised her, that once she had realized what she was doing, he didn’t stop her. Instead, he closed his eyes again, as if the touch relaxed him.
“Steve doesn’t know about the nightmares does he?” she asked while still stroking his head.
“He witnessed one, but… I can’t. He’ll ask about it and if I explain…”
“He’ll look at you differently. I know the feeling,” Natasha sighed.
“You do?” he asked. He still didn’t look at her, just kept his gaze straight ahead towards the wall.
“Yeah,” she nodded.
“And what makes Steve look at you differently?” he asked.
Natasha sucked in a breath, “My past.”
“It’s always people’s pasts,” James shook his head. “You know mine. Steve said you helped him track me down, so you must know a great deal about it.”
“In a way,” she nodded.
“Well, I don’t know yours. What’s your life story?”
Now Natasha sat there stunned. She knew he asked it out of curiosity, but she felt stuck. So much of her past included him in it. Should she push this button? Or lie and leave it untouched?
“I… it’s hard to talk about,” she muttered and stopped rubbing his head for a moment as she thought. He must’ve gotten the memo, that she didn’t want to talk, and filled the silence with another statement that led to a question.
“You’re different from the others for many reasons. You don’t look at me with fear, but I can’t read your eyes. You’re kind but don’t show it often. And you’re part of the Avengers but don’t have any supernatural gifts or powers,” he stated. “I just wanted to know why.”
Natasha chuckled which seemed to make James relax a bit more. He had feared that she would turn down this question as well, but she didn’t.
“I don’t look at you with fear because I’m not afraid of you. I don’t show my emotions because I’ve been trained not to, though I do care for every person on the Avengers team. I’m an Avenger because I’m a skilled spy, and now a skilled agent,” she explained with a shrug.
“And your eyes?” he asked.
“You can’t read my eyes because I have no tell,” she replied curtly. But he had always been able to read her. And yet now, he couldn't.
***
It might’ve been because Natasha had turned in early for the next few nights (leaving the living room empty), but James hadn’t had a nightmare for the rest of the week (that she knew of). But the next Monday night, Natasha was woken out of her own sleep, with Sam shaking her out of her slumber.
“What, Sam?” she asked, groggily.
“It’s James,” he stated.
“Nightmare?” she asked, getting up and pulling a sweatshirt over her tank top.
“Yeah, Steve said you were good at calming him down.”
“How did Steve know that?” she asked. She hadn’t told Steve and she assumed James hadn’t either, since he was already trying to hide his nightmares from the blonde.
“Tony talked about it during breakfast one day. Said you two were getting cuddly based off of the footage Jarvis had collected,” he eyed her quizzically.
“Well tell Tony that comforting somebody after they relive some of the most horrifying experiences in their life isn’t the exact definition of ‘cuddly’,” she rolled her eyes and walked out of the room.
“But you do want…”
“Sam, this isn’t the time,” Natasha said through gritted teeth as she walked quickly down the hall towards the stairs.
James’ and Steve’s floor was a level below her own, and she had decided not to take the elevator. No offense to Steve, but with him trying to calm James down after a nightmare, things could escalate quickly, in the wrong direction. Sure, Steve was as kind as they got and as cuddly as a teddy bear, but (from experience) James couldn’t just be woken up out of a nightmare by some shaking.
Natasha didn’t even knock, just entered the room to find James tackling Steve to the ground. Yep, definitely didn’t wake him up the right way.
“Please Buck! It’s me, Steve!” he tried talking to the solider while dodging the punches that were aimed at his face. He looked up to see Nat and Sam entering the room. “He’s not listening.”
“He can’t,” Natasha ran over to where the two were brawling, and pulled James’ arms behind his back, then pinned his legs to the floor.
He fought for a few moments, his adrenaline and instincts taking over. Yet Natasha stayed strong, holding him there for a few more seconds before he gave up and his muscles relaxed. He entered the realm of sleep. Natasha got off of him and began to stroke his arm while applying the pressure to his head.
“What did you mean he couldn’t hear me? He was awake,” Steve asked, while rubbing is right arm that was already turning a shade of dark blue from a punch.
“His eyes were open, but he wasn’t awake. He was still living in his nightmare. If you don’t wake him up gently, then…” she sighed and looked at James sprawled on the floor. She wanted to reach out for his hair again but pulled back. Both Steve and Sam were here. It wasn’t the right time.
“How do you know what to do?” Sam asked while he watched her resume applying pressure to his temples and running her fingers up and down his arm.
“I learned it somewhere, don’t know exactly. First time he had a nightmare ended up just like you Steve, maybe add a few bruises to my face,” she recalled the time in that motel room, then continued. Ignoring Steve and Sam’s glance at each other. “But then I found the technique worked on him and…”
Steve nodded, and stared at her almost like he was trying to memorize her motions. Just then, James woke up. His eyes darted across the room, looking first at Natasha, then at Steve and finally Sam.
“What happened?” he asked, sitting up off the ground.
“Natasha had to pin you down, I guess Steve couldn’t take you out of your nightmare,” Sam explained.
James then looked from Steve to Natasha, his eyes eventually landed on the growing bruise on Steve’s arm.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry to all of you,” he sighed and stood up. Steve walked over and hugged him tightly.
“You don’t have to be,” he added and James nodded. “And I’ll be here for you if you need anything. Natasha too.”
Natasha nodded at him when he looked to her. And something suddenly clicked in his brain. He didn’t know if it was from the nightmare, or from just her expression, but now he could read those eyes. Those light sage-green eyes. And their expression of forgiveness and caring.
And for some odd reason, just from her gaze, his heart skipped a beat.
***
The next nightmare James had, nearly a month and a half from the “incident”, he sought out Natasha. He had woken himself out of his sleep, covered in sweat and shaking. The same scene had replayed in his head for the third night in a row. Most times he would wake before it got bad, this time he didn’t.
He was in Stalingrad for a bizarre assignment. Usually all of his missions consisted of chasing somebody down, assassinating a government official or even infiltrating an “enemy” base. But starting a fire was never a mission he had expected.
HYDRA was still in his head, so when he lit a set of houses located on a quiet street on fire, he thought nothing of it. Usually, the nightmare would stop there. With him lighting the match. But that night, in continued far longer.
The Solider was told to wait, to hide in the forest behind the neighborhood. He watched the flames grow and grow. Cries and screams echoed from the street. People panicking and calling for help. The nightmare forced him to just stand and watch. He couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything to stop the chaos he created.
And the memory plays again and again, but in different locations. He lights a fire in Anadyr, Norilsk, Uglich, Belogorsk, Snezhinsk, Volsk, Liski, and 20 other towns that he can’t remember. Little did the solider know that his 28 fires left 28 young girls as orphans to be collected into the Red Room’s clutches.
Even without that knowledge, the fires and flames left him shameful and full of guilt. These people were beyond innocent. The recollection of what he did, on top of the rest of the horrifying acts he had committed, left him shaking in his bed.
Warily, while trying to walk steadily on his feet, he got up out of his bed and walked through the hallways towards the living room. Relief filled him when he saw her there. He could make out her silhouette in the moonlight that fell into the room through the window, giving it a gentle white glow.
Natasha’s hair was tied up in a loose bun, a few red strands fell into her face and upon her back. She sat, curled up in a blanket, reading something. Before he could even make one step into the room, she turned around to face him and shifted her position.
They didn’t exchange words, no need. There was an unspoken understanding between the two. James made his way across the living room and sat on the couch next to Natasha. She was shocked when he laid his head against her side, like his mind was too heavy to hold by himself.
Her fingers lingered over his head, which James noticed, only to pull her palm down onto his hair.
“You can rub it, I like it,” he explained.
She only nodded. Her gaze was fixed on the window as she stroked his strands. His brunette hair was getting longer, Natasha had noticed. Maybe he would allow her to cut it. She couldn’t picture Steve being a great barber, and she knew James wouldn’t trust just anyone to hold sharp objects near his face. But did he trust her enough to even consider letting her to do it? She didn’t know yet.
They just sat there for a few minutes, eventually turning into half an hour. James’ breaths slowed to a pace that would match sleep, yet Natasha knew he was awake. After her wrist had gotten tired from the continuous movement, she simply rested her hand over his back.
The touch calmed him, anchored him almost. He didn’t know the source of this connection with Natasha, but he found that he did, in fact, trust her. Nearly fully. Almost as much as he trusted Steve. So… he spoke. For the first time in weeks, he decided that he wanted to tell her what had happened in his dream.
“My nightmare uncovered a new memory,” he started. Natasha’s gaze that was originally on the window, then eventually focused more on her book, switched to James. And he could read her eyes. They were kind, tender, a bit curious as well. He realized he liked looking at her eyes.
After a few moments, his mind returned from this detour, to the nightmare. He just hoped there hadn’t been an awkward pause in between.
“I had burned a house in Stalingrad. That was the main one I remember. But not just that one, multiple houses. Neighborhoods filled with children. And people had died because of me. I knew I had killed people, but kids? Parents? Families? Lighting their homes on fire? And I didn’t even care? What type of person could do that?” he explained slowly. His eyes met hers again, yet his vision was blurred through the tears he didn’t dare to let fall. She had already seen him cry before, it wasn’t that much of a shocker; yet it was habit, to not let his emotions show through.
“That wasn’t you. That was HYDRA. You would never do something like that, ever. You’re too good to do that,” she comforted. She began to stroke his back this time. Stalingrad? House fire? How her parents had died? It was no coincidence. Even with this new knowledge, she didn’t become angry at him. She still stood by her words - that, that wasn’t him. That it was HYDRA, the Red Room, even both combined.
Meanwhile, James had wanted to believe her words, but he shook his head.
“You say it’s the programming, but what if the programming is still there? What if I just snap? What if I do something like that again?”
“You won’t, you know why?” she stated, her voice had a soft edge to it.
“Why?”
“Because HYDRA is gone. And if they return, you have Steve to protect you. The Avengers to protect you. I’ll protect you. You won’t ever go back to that hell. I promise you; I’ll do everything in my power to stop it.”
Natasha’s gaze looked straight into James’ eyes. She was completely serious. Her eyes said it all. That promise, it was true. And it surprised James how much she cared for him. She did care for him, right?
“I could still snap. There’s this set of words, they’ll trigger me. I can’t have those in my head, Natasha. Now with Fury offering me a possible job with the Avengers, I need to get those triggers out of my head,” he explained, his voice desperate.
“I know. But there’ll be doctors,” she sighed.
Wait up, how did she know he hated doctors?
Natasha noticed her slip up immediately, and just hoped James wouldn’t question her knowledge of one of his greatest fears.
“Then I’ll have to face it. I can’t let them control me again. Doctors and all, I need to get this stuff out of my head.”
He watched her nod and they returned to their silence. The two of them stayed on the couch until morning. James had fallen asleep again, yet Natasha couldn’t. She didn’t know if she would accidentally invade his space more than he wanted. It was hard, all she wanted to do was fall asleep in his arms, but she held back.
Hours later she was greeted with the morning sun followed by Steve and Sam walking through the kitchen to prepare breakfast before their morning run.
They both walked into the room, not noticing Natasha and the solider on the couch, until Sam pointed towards the two while he made himself oatmeal.
“Oh hey, Nat,” Steve walked over, munching on a granola bar. She knew he would need at least three to satisfy his appetite.
“Hey,” she looked up at Steve and followed his gaze that landed on James.
“Nightmare?”
Natasha only nodded. Then eventually added. “He wants his triggers removed. Said even if he has to face doctors he’ll do it.”
Steve sighed. “Do we even know a doctor that can do that?”
“Bruce might know someone?” Natasha shrugged. Steve nodded, taking another bite off the bar.
“I’m glad he’s talking to you,” he smiled at how Bucky’s head was laid in Natasha’s lap. James had shifted a bit once he had fallen asleep, thus his head ending up on her lap.
“Yeah, me too,” she replied. Which she really was, just… she wished he would remember.
“He remember anything about you?”
Natasha lightly, almost secretively pressed her hand onto his pulse point on his neck. Good, he was still asleep. The worst thing that could happen would be if he overheard their conversation.
“No.”
“He will.”
“How can you be so sure?”
Steve took in a breath then let it out slowly.
“I don’t know. I hope so, Nat. I really do.”
“I know, Steve. And I know you’ve felt this feeling before, with Peggy,” Natasha added. The Captain shook his head.
“It’s not the same,” he muttered. “Your situation is worse, by far.”
“But look, he’s still here. He still might… I don’t know,” she explained. “But for you, Peggy already has her own life.”
Now he nodded, realizing that Nat’s statement was true.
“You suggesting I move on?” he asked sincerely.
“If you find a great girl, one you love, just don’t feel guilty. There’s no reason for you to feel guilty, Steve. You deserve that life as well.”
He smiled at Natasha. Thankful for her words. It was just the push he needed, that sort of confirmation on what to do moving forward.
“Like I said, call that nurse,” she quipped. Steve just shook his head.
“Maybe, but right now, I have to go for a run,” he smiled at the two of them one last time before jogging across the room to grab his coat and join Sam by the elevator door.
“Have fun you two!” Natasha called to them as the elevator doors opened.
“Ha, thanks,” Sam laughed.