the soldier

Schkeuditz, Saxony, Germany

June 24th, 2016

Ghost broke into a sprint as the others did, holding herself right on the precipice of the Grey – and as the Captain and Stark collided with the resounding ring of metal on metal, combat breaking out around them – she phased out.

It was enough to confuse the boy in red-and-blue, who visibly staggered mid-stride as she ran right through him. One of his webs shot after her, but before he could regain his stride, Wanda had sent him flying with a burst of her strange energy. Magic, she thought wonderingly, dazedly.

This time, when the computer-man shot his energy at her, she was ready. At the last second, so close she could feel the exposed flesh of her neck burn and tingle, she threw herself out of the path of the blast. It forced her away from her partner, and as she rolled and spun in a tight crouch to keep the thing in her sight, she realised that may have been the point. The Panther was already upon her partner, with the same savage intent, each swipe of his claws aiming to kill.

She would not be separated from him again.

She ran for him again, even as the computer lined up again, even as warning made her skin prickle – if she was forced to suffer to get to him, so be it. And then nothing.

Unable to help herself, she cast a look over her shoulder, and was greeted by the sight of the computer tumbling through the air, Wilson spiralling in a graceful arc away from him. Another thrum of gratitude, of respect, raced through her.

The Panther and her partner had each other at arm’s length, grappling with equal force – though she suspected much of her partner’s focus was on keeping the Panther away from himself. If he had the same murderous intent as the black-suited man, the Panther would be dead. She had no doubt of that.

She threw herself gracelessly at the Panther.

Ghost locked her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, a parody of a backpack, and pulled them both into the Grey. She heard his startled choke as they toppled through James, who had already danced back out of the way. She let him go, and the momentum made him faceplant into the concrete. The Panther scrambled back to his feet, and she was almost impressed at the speed at which he came for her. Almost. She caught his slash at her throat with her forearm, resounding the blow up and away, and phased out as he kicked at her. His foot passed fruitlessly through her stomach, and as he stumbled with his own momentum again, her partner had moved seamlessly into the place where she had been – placing a well place blow to the small of his back, and he crumpled again.

He rolled with a groan, and she readied herself – but was taken by unfortunate surprise at his low blow. His claws slashed sideways, and she was too slow to avoid them, crying out involuntarily at the sharp metal that cut through her jeans and into the muscle of her calf. Blood began to flow immediately, the thick metal scent reaching her nose, soaking hot and wet into her boot, and she stumbled back, unable to put her weight on the wound. Her partner shot her a distressed look, stepping in front of her to engage the Panther again.

She sunk her teeth into her bottom lip, and forced herself to take a step towards the hangar. If she couldn’t fight the man any longer without getting in the way of her partner, then she had to stick to the original plan.

She had made it a few feet, getting used to the crippling pain with every step, when a body went flying past her, colliding with one of the abandoned luggage trailers. She recognised the svelte form and blazing red hair instantly. Natalia rolled over with a groan and met her eyes. They both stilled.

“Again.”

The blonde girl flinched at her voice, eyes darting warily towards her, away from her far smaller, far younger sparring partner. Natalia didn’t react, her eyes still focussed unerringly on the blonde girl. Annika was one of the five girls in their final year of the Academy, and should have known better than to look away from her opponent.

Natalia struck in the time it took Annika to look back at her. The thirteen-year-old moved with hard earned grace and deadly precision. Annika didn’t stand a chance – where she was giving in to exhaustion, Natalia was using it to drive her. Ghost felt a proud smile flit momentarily across her face as Natalia brought Annika to her knees.

Natalia was, without a doubt, the best they’d ever had. And soon, Ghost thought, she would be ready to step into the ring against her.

“Я тебя давно ищу.” I’ve been looking for you for a long time. Natalia rose slowly to her feet, never once looking from her eyes.

Ghost took a careful step in the direction of the hangar. Natalia mirrored her with equal delicacy. “Я знаю. Тебе не следовало искать.” I know. You should not have been looking. This time, it was Natalia that moved – taking a deliberate step towards her. Despite herself, Ghost took a step forwards too, putting her back to the hangar.

“Do you remember me?” There was desperation in Natalia’s jewel green eyes. She looked suddenly very young. Ghost nodded her head once, some unnamed emotion rising in her chest and tightening her throat. Natalia let out a quiet breath, and took another step closer. “There is so much I have to tell you,” she swallowed visibly, and then she raised her fists, “But…”

Reluctantly, Ghost lifted her hands and slipped into a ready stance. Though most of her wanted nothing more than too run, a small part of her wondered and anticipated. “But we must fight.” She spoke with a heavy heart.

Natalia’s lips quirked, and then she struck.

To her surprise, Aleksandrina stayed solid and visible as she launched herself towards the older woman. Natasha whirled into a complicated sequence of hits and kicks. Though she just needed Aleksandrina to take her into intangibility, a part of her wanted to impress her old teacher.

Aleksandrina met her with equal force; and it was a mark of their time together that she was able to deflect every blow, able to anticipate a routine she had probably taught her. Natasha could already feel an ache in her flesh at the rigidity with which Aleksandrina parried every strike. “Сражайтесь.” Fight back. She hissed at the other woman.

Aleksandrina’s impassive face was marred with a momentary frown, and Natasha threw herself forwards with abandon, putting her body unwisely well in reach. Aleksandrina merely reversed, inching away with every blow Natasha attempted to deliver. It was like dancing, two partners that knew all the other’s moves. Natasha grit her teeth, and then changed her strategy. She unsheathed a knife from her belt and spun it once, threateningly. Aleksandrina did not react, but this time, when Natasha slashed at her – she finally slipped into intangibility, and Natasha moved suddenly out of reach so that Aleksandrina was forced to grab her. With a sucking, draining sensation, her world went sepia, and the knife slipped out of her grasp.

“I believe you.” Natasha whispered, ignoring the nausea and overwhelming absence of sensation. Aleksandrina frowned again, and then, suddenly the world lost all colour completely.

“What?” Natasha heard Aleksandrina’s voice as if from very far away. Though she could not feel much; as if all her limbs were asleep, she was aware of the other woman’s grip loosening. “Then you need to let us go.”

Natasha shook her head, meeting her great-aunt’s eyes. “Stark won’t listen to reason now. But I can get you to the Quinjet.”

Aleksandrina blinked. “W-why? They will punish you for it. Surely, I am your enemy – and not just for what I have done, but what I did to you.”

“You made me strong, дух.” Natasha clutched at the taller woman’s sleeves, trying to keep her from slipping away. Aleksandrina – Ghost – had kept her alive, had built her to be something powerful, something dangerous. And now – now Natasha had family. It was the only thing she had ever wanted. “Все, что я хочу, это узнать тебя.” All I want is to know you.

Aleksandrina shook her head jerkily, her still bloodstained hair clinging to sweat on her temples. “Я просто призрак, Natalia.” I am just a ghost.

Rage and sorrow made her bow into the woman, desperately trying to make her understand. She had to understand. “No. You are Aleksandrina.” Her face stilled, and Natasha could see the tremor that swept over her. “Aleksandrina Romanov,” Natasha cleared her throat roughly, fighting the building tears in her eyes.

“Какой?” What? Aleksandrina’s voice was a whisper.

Dimly, Natasha was aware of the sheer chaos around them. Their friends were all growing more desperate and more furious. The only thing that mattered, though, was the woman in front of her.

“Семья.” Family. Natasha slid her hands down Aleksandrina’s arms, and intertwined their fingers. Even in this phantom realm, she could feel the chill of her skin. “Вы моя семья.” You are my family.

Aleksandrina went very still. For a long, terrible moment, Natasha thought she had lost her. But then, a single tear rolled down her cheek, and she smiled.

Natasha thought they had never looked more alike.

“How long have you known?”

Ghost watched Natalia’s clever hands work on the engine controls, and tried to keep her own emotions contained. Family. She had never dared to even think on the notion, and now-

Now, the impossible was suddenly in front of her, preparing a jet for take-off.

Natalia spared her a brief look over her shoulder. She wasn’t smiling but there was a softness in her eyes now, unfamiliar. “For almost a year now.” She went back to the controls, hands flying over the various buttons and touchscreens. “After DC, I went looking through old HYDRA documents. It took me some time, but I managed to decode what looked like a birth certificate. I didn’t know it was yours until I connected the dates.”

Aleksandrina Romanov.

Ghost turned the name over in her mind. “And I am your…?”

“Great-aunt.” Natalia didn’t seem to mind repeating herself. For that, Ghost was glad. She thought she might have been in shock. It didn’t feel real. “Your brother was my great-grandfather.”

“Brother.” She breathed, and tried to imagine a man with Natalia’s features. Her features, she realised, and looked at the other woman with new eyes. Then she remembered something. “James – he once said we looked alike.”

Natalia turned back to her with a quirk of her brow. “What?”

“He doesn’t remember much of the Academy,” she explained, and was unable to help but smile at the memory. “He saw you training, saw how proud I was. Before we slept, he said that you looked like me but different.”

“I still remember how hard he hit.” Natalia was almost smiling too, one half of her full lips quirked. “Some of the girls said he was cute – but after they stepped in the ring…” She trailed off meaningfully.

Ghost snorted. “Cute.” She shook her head at the thought.

Natalia eyed her. “What will you do after this?”

Outside the jet, the fight they had left behind was still going. Dull explosions, creaking of metal and the rattle of machine gun fire sounded distantly. Ghost forced herself to focus on the battle ahead.

She knew she couldn’t lie to Natalia. Not now. Not ever. “I am not sure if there will be an after, Natalia.” Her future was uncertain. She was tired, injured, and facing enemies that had grown and developed fighting her.

Natalia’s eyes closed briefly. “Don’t say that.” She whispered, sounding wounded. “I just got you back.”

For a moment she wavered between desire and her training. Natalia watched her with the ancient eyes of a killer. She willed herself to be brave and took a step towards the other woman. To her relief, she met her halfway, and Ghost stretched out a hand to brush back some of Natalia’s flyaway hair from her face. “малютка,” Little one, she murmured, and Natalia took her hand in her own. “Ты всегда был самым сильным.” You have always been the strongest. The earth shook as something fell with a resounding boom that Ghost could feel in her bones. “You will weather this storm.”

Natalia swallowed thickly, and then nodded. Ghost knew she would, knew she would understand. She was a Widow after all. She was more than mortal. She was made from ice and blood just as Ghost had been.

They did not speak as they left the Quinjet, and yet Ghost felt as though they were still holding hands, as if the connection between them had transcended the physical.

Her partner and the Captain stopped dead at the sight of them. They were both breathing heavily, but to her relief, unscathed. James looked at her, a silent question in his clear grey eyes, and she allowed her face to relax enough to soothe him. His metal hand loosened its fist.

The Captain, however, did not seem to understand. He looked at Natalia warily, shield held at the ready. His eyes, however, were unerringly remorseful. He cared for her, she realised, he loved Natalia like he loved her partner. It would hurt Steve to hurt Natalia and yet his innate goodness would not let him stand down. Ghost was starting to understand the loyalty the man inspired.

“You’re not going to stop.” Natalia was not asking him, more an affirmation than anything else, but Steve shook his head, resolute.

“You know I can’t.”

Movement from the pile of metal and rubble behind the two men drew Ghost’s attention, but before she could do so much as unsheathe her knife, Natalia had raised her arm. “I’m going to regret this.” The Captain flinched, but the small electric charge that shot from her gauntlet hit the Panther square in the chest. He crumpled with a cry, and the Captain whirled in surprise. “Go.”

James was already moving towards her, and Ghost met him as Natalia fired another Bite at the Panther. “Что случилось?” What happened? His metal hand ghosted briefly over her waist as he fell into step with her.

Ghost thought of the name. Aleksandrina. It seemed like too much to share – too much for her to fully comprehend. A brother, a mother, a father, a great-niece – after so long as a single abnormality, it seemed fanciful. “Позже.” Later. She told him, a flare of guilt turning her stomach as they strode up the ramp into the cockpit of the Quinjet.

Thankfully, the Captain knew how to pilot the Quinjet.

Though she or her partner would have been able to puzzle it out, it would have cost valuable time. With the Captain in the pilot’s seat, and her partner hovering at his shoulder, she allowed herself to take a momentary rest.

Her injured leg buckled beneath her, and she slid awkwardly down the side of the jet, catching herself with a faint hiss. She manoeuvred herself into a sitting position, stretching her still-bleeding calf before her, and finally, finally catching her breath. She was exhausted. It had been some time since she had slept, and too long since she had allowed herself to take stock of her physical state. She was bruised from all her collisions with cement and metal, her calf was still dribbling blood onto the floor of the jet, and her vision was prickling at the edges with black – evidence of straining her abilities too far. Ghost eased off her boot, and reached for the hem of her jeans. Rolling them up caused the scabs that had formed to tear again, and fresh pain to lance up her leg. She bit down hard on her bottom lip to stop from crying out, and closed her eyes.

“-she alright?”

She was dimly aware of hands on her exposed calf, cool metal and heated flesh alike. James. The Captain had spoken, and as she became more aware of herself, she realised she must have given in to unconsciousness. She sighed, and made to get up, opening her eyes to find her partner crouched over her. As she shifted, his eyes flew to hers. He gave her a half-smile, warmth in his eyes. “She’ll be alright. Оставайся на месте.” Stay still. He spoke half to her, half to Steve, who was still in the pilot’s seat. In her periphery, she watched him cast her another nervous look over his shoulder. “She needs to rest.” James secured the bandage he had wrapped tightly around her wound, and gently eased her boot back onto her foot. “Восемь часов.” Eight hours. He told her, and she felt the brief touch of his fingers to her lips, before she succumbed to darkness again.

She was unconscious again by the time he had finished doing her laces, and he reached out to gently adjust her head so that she was leaning against the smooth metal of a seat. He could feel Steve’s eyes on him, and stood to face him.

Steve looked away quickly once he realised he’d been caught, and he couldn’t help but chuckle slightly. Though it still felt strange to be with Steve again, a little difficult to equate the disjointed memories of a man he had once known with the man before him, there was less discomfort than he had expected. Though they had both changed, he was still able to recognise his old friend. He hoped Steve recognised him too. “She’s tougher than she looks.” He made his way back over to the co-pilot’s seat, settling behind Steve.

At this angle, he was able to see Steve’s disbelieving face. “She hardly looks…” He seemed unable to pick a word, almost nervous, “um, helpless.”

He turned again to look at his partner. He supposed, to a stranger, she did look somewhat terrifying, what with her height, scars and general paleness, plus the unnervingly blank look she defaulted too. All he saw now though, was her slim, delicate limbs, and the hidden vulnerability in her eyes. She was more porcelain doll than scary killer in his eyes. Bucky was sure strangers thought the same about him, just as he was sure Steve only saw his old friend. “I’d say she doesn’t bite, but…” He trailed off, holding back a laugh at the way Steve paled. “I’m kidding, Stevie – Jeeze.” It slipped out, far too light, and far too casual, but Steve’s lip twitched, and the blond ducked his head.

“You and her…” Steve didn’t look at him, but Bucky had the feeling Steve was monitoring his reaction. “I couldn’t help but notice-”

“That we’re fucking?” He couldn’t resist – and as he expected, Steve turned a violent shade of pink. Bucky grinned briefly, satisfied. Some things don’t change.

“Buck-” Steve sighed, and shook his head. “C’mon. Don’t be crass. Besides – I’ve never seen you look at someone like that.”

At that, discomfort made his stomach turn. He swallowed down a reflexive response, a defensive retort that came from years of conditioning, and forced himself to be honest. Steve deserved honest. “It’s hard to help it.” He admitted, “I don’t- she was all I knew for a long time.” Steve was quiet, and Bucky watched the muscle in his jaw jump. “She’s never known anything but HYDRA. I’m still just relieved she wanted to know me.”

“How long?”

Bucky couldn’t actually place the moment he had realised he needed her beyond their professional partnership. “Long enough.” He said finally. Steve nodded, and then was silent. In the quiet, Bucky stewed. “What’s going to happen to your friends?” Though they owed him nothing, though he had given them nothing but trouble, Steve’s teammates had rallied around him. He couldn’t help but feel guilty.

Steve sighed quietly, a broken sound. “Whatever it is, I’ll deal with it.”

“I don’t know if I’m worth all this, Steve.” He wasn’t innocent, and he wasn’t whole. Steve deserved better. He had found a place with his partner, his Ghost, who was just as fractured as him.

Steve almost turned to look at him. Bucky was glad he didn’t. He didn’t think he could stomach the weight of his old friend’s gaze, the weight of the emotion there. “What you did all those years…” Bucky braced for the judgement. Of course – it did not come. “It wasn’t you. You didn’t have a choice.”

A moment of hysteria nearly made him laugh. It both was and wasn’t – he had committed more sins than anyone person should, and though he had not been himself, it was still his hands drenched in red. He fixed his gaze on the white of the horizon. “I know.” It hurt to say, just as it hurt to deny it. He looked at Steve, at the sharp cut of his jaw and righteousness of his face. “But I did it.”

Steve twitched, something unnameable flitting across his face before he turned his own eyes to the sky ahead of them.