Remnants of Time

Also, check out my Spotify Playlist I put together for this fic.
(Keep in mind the chapters, though. The tracks are kind of like a soundtrack.)

Steve woke up feeling more than just uncomfortable. Every breath felt like someone was rubbing a frickin’ grater against the inside of his throat. He coughed and hated himself for it. Coughing felt worse. Steve slowly reached for his neck and examined the skin there. Not only was it warm, but he could barely touch it. Still too sensitive.
Steve sighed and sat up very slowly. The dizziness in his head passed and suddenly, a new awareness of his surroundings sent him into a little shock. The green leather sofa he sat on, the cappuccino-colored walls and the white candles on the window sills. The little bonsai sitting there. The shades before the windows, the futon bed on the other side. He didn’t recognize any of that. But seeing Bucky asleep on the mattress reassured Steve a little; at least he wasn’t alone in this strange place. His thoughts wandered back to the previous events. He’d fought Rebecca. She’d almost killed him. Steve’s hands wiped over his face.
It hurt, seeing her like this. A woman he knew. It was different than with Bucky. He’d never believed he’d be alive without Bucky one day. Before the army, that was Steve’s unwritten truth. Bucky and him, they’d stay together. And then, Bucky had gotten drafted and Steve had stayed back and everything developed into a different scenario than Steve had pictured. His choice, however, had brought them back together.
But Rebecca? She wasn’t supposed to go through any of this. Not through the war, not through seventy years of Hydra. Her life was with her family, unlike Steve and Bucky’s life in the city. Pursue a career, have kids, live a life that was peaceful and pure. But Hydra just had to pervert everything, twist people until they didn’t fit into their own skins anymore. Until they had to become someone else. Until they killed without remorse.

A sound pulled Steve away from the drama unfolding in his head. Immediately, he went into high alert. Who was that? Bucky still hadn’t moved, so someone else had to be in there with them. The supersoldier wasn’t sure if his memories were real. Had Natasha pulled him out of that living room? Or was it someone else? What if Hydra had captured him and the others? What if-?

Sam stepped into the room, wiping his hands on a small towel. His exhausted face lit up a little when he noticed Steve was up.
“Hey, man. Good to see you. Alive, I mean. You looked pretty messed up.“
“I feel messed up. Where are we?“
“Another one of Nat’s places. I wonder how many else she’s got. Didn’t take her for the rich girl.“
“You’d be surprised.“
A little beep sounded through the room. What was that? An activated explosive? Steve’s head whipped around and it brought tears to his eyes.
“Hey, take some care of yourself! Your throat is swollen. I think that means you shouldn’t move it.“
“Did you hear that?“
Sam nodded and held up his wrist. He wore a digital watch that was blinking a little. The pararescue gave it a look, then turned towards a cupboard.
“Yeah. It’s time.“
Time for what? Steve spotted a little ampoule and a syringe on the cupboard. Sam took it and walked towards Bucky. Before Steve could move, his best friend had been injected with something.
“Sam! What the heck!? What is going on?“
“Making sure we don’t die a ridiculously painful and ill-timed death by this idiot’s… idiocy. He doesn’t get to kill me, I made that decision this morning.“
Steve shot him a look that would’ve been capture-worthy every other time. Sam would’ve loved it as a screensaver or even better, background. That look of confusion was just memorable. But considering their circumstances, Sam just continued rambling.
“So, ever since that, we’ve kept him on sedatives“, he held the ampoule before his face to examine it. “This stuff is for horses. He just keeps burning through it. What we need is that stuff they shoot the, uh, the dinosaurs with at Jurassic Park. It told Nat she should get that.“
Steve scrunched his face. What the hell was going on!?
“Sam, are you alright?“
“Peachy. I feel good.“
Okay. That was… good considering the thick bandages all over Sam’s body. Steve mustered his friend who sat down on the armchair. Something was wrong. For a moment, Steve wasn’t sure what it was, but then he noticed. Sam hadn’t flinched while sitting down, not for a second.
“Sam, did Nat give you anything? For your pain?“
“Thank God she did.“
“And where is she now?“
“Not sure, man. Just told me to keep an eye on you two. Called you sweetheart.“ Sam sported a wide grin. Of course he’d remember that, Steve thought. Great. What do we do now?

He let his eyes wander through the room. An alarm told him it was afternoon by now, but still the same day they’d attacked Hydra in Augsburg. He wondered if Nat had some kind of plan right now.
But she wasn’t here. What did that mean? Was she meeting someone else, conveying information? Steve couldn’t shake the little shiver crawling over his back. Whatever she was doing, it required Bucky to be out of it. That couldn’t be good at all. If they were going to take down Zola, they’d need Bucky awake and with his full power. Was she trying to prevent them from going after Hydra? Did she have a secret plan that could ruin everything? Steve could’ve screamed right then because people he trusted were keeping things from him again. He hated it.
“But why would Bucky try to kill us, Sam? What am I missing? Did anything happen? Did you find Zola?“
“Did we find him? More like we ran right into his trap. Although technically, the trap part wasn’t made for us. But since we trusted that crazy addict, we’re back to one and people are dead and we can’t even protect each other.“
“Addict? Dead people? Sam, could you explain?“ Steve sighed. This was like talking to a drunk person. He’d always taken Sam for a hilarious drunk. Well, life was disappointing.
“It was all about Barnes, that little shit. Hydra has him on their hook like a hunted duck. Wow, that rhymed. Well, now we got the Winter Soldier. Maybe we can trade him tomorrow.“ Sam smiled lazily and leaned deeper into his seat. Steve rolled his eyes. That guy really needed to sleep.
“Wait! What happens tomorrow?“
“Oh yeah. Tomorrow, we’re gonna meet Z- Zem- Zu…“
“Zola?“
“Yeah“, he mumbled, words blurring more the closer he came to falling asleep, “such an asshole.“

And with that, Sam was asleep and snoring on the armchair. Steve decided it was better that way. If they wanted to get anything done, they’d need everyone sober and armed with a clear mind. Steve shrugged his discomfort off. He’d never had such a weird conversation with Sam. Something was off with him.
Steve stood up and noticed the door that led to a kitchen.
It was small, but there was enough space for a microwave, a fridge, some cabinets and a table with a little bench with pillows for seating. Some things cleared up when Steve noticed the open Vodka bottle on the table. So Sam was drunk. Something big must’ve happened.
But there was a little note as well, on top of a pile of loose papers, folders, and notes. Hi Steve, hope you’re better. I’m just running some errands, be back in a few. Keep Barnes on Ketamine, it’s safer that way. Check out the intel we took from the base last night.Steve tossed the crumpled paper into the paper bin.
So, after a rather disappointing meal Steve put together from the few supplies available in the kitchen, he sat down examining the material of information Nat had supplied him with. He followed her notes and highlighted paragraphs.
A report stated the end phase of Project: Awakening with explicit dates. Another look at the alarm sent a wave of disappointment through Steve. Today.This morning. Zola must’ve already been
Zola must’ve already been resurrected if the plan had worked. And, while Steve prayed that there had been complications because of their attack in Augsburg, he was sure it had worked.
A phone transcript praised the high quality of the Stark Tech they’d managed to get their fingers on. A unique piece, not even finished, that only needed a few days of recalibration. If they used Tony’s machines, success was written over Hydra’s horizon, the supersoldier knew that. Tony was too much of a genius to build defective machinery. On top of that, Steve’s eyes noticed how the papers mentioned an address in Munich. Augsburg wasn’t even significant to Zola’s plan. Then why had they gone to that base?

Natasha had left Steve, Sam, and Yasha in her apartment with the best intentions possible. She’d made sure to leave the door to the little closet locked, hoping that the three soldiers wouldn’t notice the hostage she kept in there while she was actually getting stuff done. After all, she needed to make sure they’d get through this with an advantage. Not that the captured agent would matter to Hydra; Zola or Lomawu, it didn’t matter, they would laugh at her face for proposing a deal based on a hostage. 
But the CIA, they might actually attach value to this person and Natasha could come out on top. Plus, Steve was heavy. She’d needed someone to help her carry the supersoldier.
Right now, the redhead stood on a roof approximately twenty minutes from her apartment. She grabbed the long-range rifle from the gun bag that an hour ago, still had been safe in a locker at Munich airport. Sitting behind an industrial chimney, she quickly gained an optimal shooting position for the office building across two streets. She put all the different pieces of the gun together with quick movements and placed it before her. The sky above her was gray and painted with different kinds of clouds, but luckily, there wasn’t much wind.
Sitting behind an industrial chimney, she quickly gained an optimal shooting position for the office building across two streets. She put all the different pieces of the gun together with quick movements and placed it before her. The sky above her was gray and painted with different kinds of clouds, but luckily, there wasn’t much wind.

It didn’t take long to find the windows through which several CIA agents plus a dozen computers, laptops, and other electronic devices were visible. Floor number five.
She pulled out her phone, typing the number she knew would ring one of the agent’s phones on that level. That poor guy had no idea what was about to happen. Someone behind the windows moved, pulled out a phone.
“This is Unit SL-06-WH“, the agent on the other end answered. “Do you want me to connect you to Mr. …“
“Mr. Wilkins, this is Langley. We need to configure your building’s infrastructure to be able to connect you to our servers. We just need you to switch the light off for five seconds. That’s all.“
Natasha smiled. Getting this agent’s phone number had been easy. One of the first skills a spy learned. Now, if he followed her instructions, he would actually connect her to the level’s electricity and communication systems, even their servers if she intended to use them. But that wasn’t necessary for what she wanted.
“Copy, Ma’am. I’m on it.“

Through the phone, Natasha heard shuffling and steps. Suddenly, the light was switched off on the entire level. She watched agents jumping up in shock through her rifle’s scope. All the voices in the office sounded faint, in the background, but the Russian recognized Colin Whittaker’s voice. He was the task force leader, so naturally, she was familiar with him. That was one of the most basic preparations before starting anything - research.
She wondered where his partner, Janet Annie Henderson, was right now. Maybe she hadn’t been able to join him on their trip to Munich.
“What is happening, people? Johnson, give me visuals on all hallways and staircases! I need to see everything. Are we under attack? Michaels, get down there, check the buildings’ controls! Take three agents with you.“
The light was switched back on and Natasha looked at her phone.
“Sorry, Ma’am?“, the young agent spoke up again. “We don’t…“
“Agent Wilkins, you may connect me to Mr. Whittaker now.“
A moment passed, but the spy watched Whittaker take the phone. He didn’t suspect anything yet. Quickly, Natasha connected her phone to the office’s speakers. Everyone needed a little surprise every now and then. Government agents were way too serious, anyways.

“This is Colin Whittaker and…“
“Hi, Colin. Look, you can call your agents back, you’re alright. No attacks happening right now, believe me, I’d give you a warning.“ She smiled sweetly. He wouldn’t guess how close she was. All the agent’s heads whipped around, taking the female voice filling up the room as a sign of invasion. Probably thinking their building had been taken over by her when really, she hadn’t set a foot into it.
“Natasha Romanoff.“  Whittaker caught his breath, audibly surprised. Whoever he thought was calling, this was definitely not who he had expected. The Black Widow. Nat could hear the moment of surprise, but she also noticed background noises, shuffling, to increase. Of course, they’d try to track her call. A predictable move. Boy, the agency had probably never thought of not following protocol, the only thing that could really make them unpredictable and, therefore dangerous to a spy with world- level experience.
“What do you want?“
Natasha huffed. You won’t be able to trace me even if we talked for three hours, honey. I’ll give you credit for trying, though. Let’s see what I can squish out of you.
“Where is General Ross?“
“In Berlin, cleaning up your little gang’s mess. Never left after you disappeared.“
“So he sent you. To hunt me down.“
“He didn’t have to. Miami, London, and Munich speak for themselves. What do you want?“
Natasha’s eyes were still trained on the task force leader standing next to a desk in that office. Whittaker, with a rifle’s target on his head. And so far, he didn’t even suspect anything.
“I want your agents off my ass.“
“You killed ten of our agents in the last three weeks. What do you really want?“
Natasha reminded herself to get done. Time was a luxury good these days.
An idea flickered through her head right then. If she could get into that task force’s quarters, she could relay inside information to Steve; they’d know everything. But she couldn’t go in herself. She’d need a mole.
Natasha grinned. This would be fun. She’d have to be careful, though, because she couldn’t shake the suspicion that Hydra had already managed to infiltrate the CIA in some way or another. How else did the CIA manage to follow her up so precisely, always taking turns to tire her out?
She focused back on the office. Her heart did a little jolt when she saw Clint’s face a few desks over. Seemed like her plan was gonna work out much faster than she could’ve imagined. Clint’d make a good mole. Perfect.
“A chat. Viktualienmarkt, in an hour. Send in an experienced agent. Someone who knows how to behave.“
“And why would I agree to that?“
“I don’t think you’re in the position to bargain with a target so high up on your agency’s Black List who actually wants to come in, Whittaker. Send Agent Barton, I trust him.“
“That’s ridiculous. He’s been hiding ever that screw-up in Ross’ max security prison. I can’t get your little crush out for a date right now.“
Natasha observed Whittaker. That jerk’s looking mighty pleased with himself. Time to shake it up. Let’s have a little fun.
“Alright, sweetheart. Don’t trouble yourself then, okay? Just ask that handsome archer guy standing right behind you. He’s my type.“
The call ended right there; the Russian had hung up. All the agents stood in shock, scrambling towards the windows and the surveillance cameras to spot the spy observing them. Her words still hung in the room like a warning, sucking the breath out of every agent, pulling the safe ground away beneath their feet.
Natasha smiled. This game worked every time, she’d learned that from a very experienced colleague familiar with being on the run.
This game worked every time, she’d learned that from a very experienced colleague familiar with being on the run.

Natasha already stood between the many huts of the Viktualienmarkt, waiting for her archer friend to arrive. Exactly four CIA agents in normal clothes had walked past her figure, every single one determined to find her, but completely oblivious to her disguise. She didn’t blame them.
Not even the three sniper teams on the roofs of the high houses that turned this plaza into a cauldron.
Natasha doubted that she would recognize herself in a mirror. This dirndl costume was a little over the top and the pink didn’t go with her hair, that’s why she’d had to spend six euros more on one of those hair sprays with coloration. That’s why her hair looked so… unique right now, with blonde and extremely blonde parts and those parts that didn’t really want to cooperate and turned into a strawberry blonde. Not that it mattered, Natasha put them into a what she thought very Bavarian-looking braid. Oh, and she also totally nailed the open décolleté part.
Of course, there were a hundred different outfits Natasha could’ve opted for instead of this dirndl, but she really needed to know what Clint thought. Also, she would keep the outfit. If Clint liked it, he wouldn’t have to look for birthday gifts for Laura anymore. It was a running gag, no one ever suspected Laura to be a Halloween fan, but every year, she proved all the doubters wrong. Natasha grinned when she remembered her photo gallery full of photos of Laura in Halloween costumes - most of them featured her or the kids in the foreground, smiling like there was no tomorrow, and a grumpy-looking, eye-rolling Clint in the background, with the same cowboy hut and banjo every year, hilariously pretending to hate Halloweeen.

The Russian spy moved as soon as the blonde strolled onto the plaza. His familiar strut suggested he was in a good mood, albeit concentrated. Natasha’s eyes dropped onto his shoelaces. She smiled. The knot and the bow told her he was both equipped with a tracker and a microphone, a bug. Okay, she’d take care of that. No problem.
Natasha walked over, following a pair of similar dressed girls, both carrying a box of almost violet vegetables from one hut to another. Eggplant. The sign said Aubergines. German was a funny language, she thought and unconsciously grabbed a box of vegetables from a hut she’d just passed to imitate the girls. They still walked into Clint’s direction.
Of course, the vendor in the hut jumped up, yelling like crazy. Heads turned, people stopped. Perfect. Natasha gently put the box aside, snook up to Clint and dragged him behind one of those huts, completely out of the way.
He looked confused for not just one moment but a few and recognition only appeared in his eyes when Natasha put a finger to her lips and made the ASL signs for you’re bugged.
Barton nodded and pointed at the spot they’d put the microphone. It was almost too small to notice, clipped to the lining of his jacket. Without hesitation, Natasha crushed it under her feet. She kicked the remains. Clint took care of the tracker himself, pretending to be a basketball player at the three- pointer, totally nailing the throw. The tracker landed on some passerby’s bicycle.
“Okay. Now tell me what the CIA has on me”, Natasha started, but Clint shook his head with on of the widest grins she’d ever seen on him.
“Nah. First, you tell me what inspired you to this outfit. You look…”
“Amazing? I think gorgeous might be the word you’re looking for.”
“… like a teenager tried to give you a makeover. Emphasis on tried. That poor guy. This fail, well, the image of this…uh, hair will haunt him forever.”
“Ha-ha”, Natasha playfully shoved his shoulder, “but really-“
“No, but seriously. Are you still in that freakish contest with Pepper? Where you guys try to trump each other with the creepiest fashion faux pas from all over the world?”
“Barton. How often did I tell you it’s not whatever you just came up with? Anyway, let’s get to serious business.”
“Oh, I do think this outfit is very serious business.”
“God, what did they give you?”
“Have you tasted this shitload Whittaker calls coffee? And I’ve run past two Starbucks. With three snipers watching my neck”, the blonde was practically whining by now. He was a wreck without his coffee.
“See, that’s the spirit! Desperation. Now we’re on the same page. What do they have on me?”
So Barton nodded, telling the spy every detail that could be important to her. He told Natasha about the team, about Janet Henderson’s sudden death and about his theories. The suggestion that the Black Widow had massacred several CIA teams, the case disguised as a clear fact with backup proof, hadn’t triggered any emotions in him. Natasha was far from her mental state she had been in during the years when he met her first. Clint hadn’t believed anything the CIA said from that lie on. And of course, he’d developed a few theories on his own.
“Whittaker could have wanted to framed me. But his men aren’t that good. Plus, he wouldn’t kill his own agents. If it really is Lomawu acting behind the CIA’s back, it means it can’t be good”, Natasha figured. “But it actually fits with what we came up with so far. He’s Hydra, we know that.”
“Those guys Steve fought before our parents were born. Still can’t get over the fact that he could be my grandpa. Well, a grandpa who smashed three Helicarriers into DC.”
“Interesting… picture. Do you know where Lomawu is right now?”
“He left for a walk with Henderson’s assistant. She seemed pretty shaken after Mrs. Henderson was shot”, Clint said, taking a look at the watch he was wearing. “I put a tracker on him. He’s not too far from here.”
“Okay. I could take him on my own. No problem”, Natasha smiled. Maybe she could surprise the shady Wakandan. Anything to give Steve a break.
But Clint objected.
The problem wasn’t half the task force who accompanied them, but Wanda and Scott. That made everything so much more complicated. Good thing she’d given Wanda classes on self-defense and body language, Natasha thought. She wasn’t sure about Lang. Hopefully, it’d be enough.
“I’ll get Rogers, Wilson and Barnes. We can-“
“Barnes? Where did you find him? We combed through every damn acre of Wakandan soil for his ass after the Remnant freed him.”
“He found us. In Cologne.”
“So he did kill that CIA unit.”
“No. That was the Remnant.”
Natasha continued then, always wary of their surroundings. She knew that every second could be their last peaceful moment. But she had positioned herself and Clint between huts, an area none of the snipers could access without coming down, which they were not allowed to.
Clint nodded when she proposed a plan. It was a good one. 
“Steve won’t forgive you.”
“They will be safe.”
“You know he’ll sacrifice safety-“
“He won’t have to. That’s why we’re doing this. The plan will work. I’ll make sure it will.”
“You contacted the director, didn’t you?”
Nat grinned. She had no idea how he knew.
“Thank God you had a good teacher”, she said and leaned into him.
Clint hugged her.
“See you in a few.”
He took the little comm device from her hand and connected it to his hearing aid.
Then, the two of them ran towards the majestic church, hiding Clint behind the enormous organ just in time before two agents entered the church. They were disguised as tourists, but Natasha knew where their guns were hidden.
She sneakily took a selfie, because she couldn’t actually let Pepper win the round to their game, and disappeared behind a pillar. The two men passed her and she took them down quickly. Before any real tourists could notice, she called Clint, who helped her hide the bodies.
Then, she tied his wrists together and cuffed the agents.
The blond archer nodded.
“It’ll take them a while to find us. Go, tell the director I said hi.”
Natasha pulled out her phone, quickly texting her contact while returning to her car.
Let’s meet up. Tell the director I have the files he wanted, both Rogers’ and Barnes’.

Something moved in the corner of Steve’s eye. The blond dared to look up and faced a machine gun focused on him. A confused, empty ghost behind it. His face cold, calculating.
Steve froze. He wasn’t sure what to say. What was even left to say? This was a never ending story of him chasing a tail out of reach. Maybe coming to an end wasn’t so bad.
“Hiya, Buck“, he forced a smile for his friend. The best he could give right now. The other man just stared back. Steve didn’t care. As long as he didn’t start shooting, he was fine with the brunet pointing a gun at him. His eyes went back to the papers on the table.
He was trying to figure out a riddle but couldn’t shake the feeling that every single answer to it was just another carefully laid out hint and whatever plan they developed, Hydra already anticipated it. For minutes, silence hung like a veil between the man and the ghost.
“St- Steve?“
Steve had never heard his name laced with so much hesitation before. But it made him sigh in relief.
“Yeah, pal. You alright?“
“Don’t think I’ll ever be alright.“
“I know the feeling. You’ll get chances to redeem yourself.“
“I’m not a hero, Steve.“
Bucky’s posture screamed professional killer, but his eyes looked deep and old, full of rivers that were returning to once dry riverbeds. His voice sounded as husky as it used to when he came home from his late shifts at the dock, around 70 years ago. Somber, with a tinge of exhaustion. No man could ever understand what Bucky Barnes was carrying with himself every day of his life.
“No one expects you to be one.“
“That’s crap. The whole world expects me to be a hero, like you. But Bucky Barnes died in the war.“
“And since when do you listen to the world? You were the one who taught me not to, with every fight that I dragged myself into. You’ll be whatever you want, Buck. But you gotta want something. You gotta make the decision.“
“I know.“
“What happened yesterday, in Augsburg?“
“What did Sam tell you?“
“Not much. He’s drunk.“
“I made a wrong decision, that’s all. Took my prep drugs. Makes it… easier for Hydra to get into my head. Sam was there and it”, he let out a sigh Steve recognized as deep regret, “well, it got rough. He’ll feel it for days. You look terrible too, what happened to you?“

So Steve told him everything that had happened, from the facility’s superior Natasha had tortured for information to his fight with Rebecca that had almost cost him his life.
Bucky mustered Steve and pointed at the files littering the kitchen table.
“Anything helpful?”
Steve snorted.
“Tons of encryption, numbers, and codes. Can’t pull much out of that. As far as I understood, Zola intends to use Tony’s machine to transfer his consciousness into a human body.”
Bucky nodded slowly.
“Sounds like him. Any details on how, when, where?”
“I’ve seen this kind of thing before. Back then, I had a team of friends to handle the situation.”
“You have friends to help you this time.”
“But no team. Look at us, Buck, we’re not a team. Sam’s out, Nat tried to keep you out of it, we don’t know where she is…” He held out the paper slip Natasha had left.
“Running errands?”
“Whatever that means. For all we know, she could be anywhere, with anyone, spying around or killing people. Pal, I’m aware you know her a great deal better than any one of us, but right now…”
“…we can’t trust her. I see your point. Her backup plans and scheming have fired back. She should’ve told us what she’s doing.” The Soldier sighed, but a thought caught his attention.
“You mentioned she had files about us.”
Steve stiffened and wiped his face with his hand. This whole mission had gotten so much more complicated in the matter of a few hours. Right now, it seemed much easier to just come up with a plan without her. He’d rather go into a fight with one person less than with one person that he couldn’t trust.
“Had. They’re gone. I checked before you woke up. Also, we had a guest. Messed up closet, broken handcuffs, pretty much speaks for itself. I have no idea what she thinks she’s doing, but I don’t like any of it.”
“Okay. I’m with you. Did you find anything else about Zola?”
“He’ll need a power surge to get the transfer done, a big one. So I checked Munich’s power grid”, Steve’s pointer ran over the map, showing the spots he’d marked with different colors, “there are a few spots for generators off the grid, the hospitals, the banks, all those, but there is only one spot with a big generator right next to a hydroelectric power station.”
“The Museum of Science and Technology.”
“Exactly. The power of the hydroplant usually wouldn’t give off enough electric power to do the job, but today at”, Steve checked the green kitchen watch above the bookshelf, “in three hours, they’ll lead a new channel into the Isar. The surplus water will rush through and supply Zola with all the energy he needs.”
“That’s in broad daylight.”
“We need to be there. If we can pull the plug, he’s stuck.”
“He’ll have at least one unit in place. She’ll be there, too, no doubt… You met her last night.”
That was a statement, not a question. Steve knew Bucky didn’t need Hydra’s spy training to read him. The bruised neck was a clear sign, too.
“I tried pulling her back”, Steve sighed, recalling the still fresh, still painful memories, “but I couldn’t, not like I did with you. She just kept coming at me. Maybe it didn’t work because it was me. I’m sorry, Buck.”
“Are you saying that I should try to pull her back? She’s my twin sister, but never was I her brother.”
“That’s not your fault. Your parents sent her to boarding school.”
“And before that? I left for New York. I didn’t know her, not like a brother should’ve. I can’t pull her back either, Steve.”
There was no echo in the small kitchen, but the words left an ugly reverberation that seemed so grave to Steve that he wished he didn’t have to have conversations like this.
“Maybe it’s good you took your drugs.”
“What do you mean?”
“Bucky doesn’t know his sister. But the Winter Soldier knew the Remnant. You said she was your backup operative. Do you remember something special she said to you? Or did you say something important that she might remember?”
Bucky hesitated, buried his face in his big, calloused hands.
“There’s nothing to remember, Steve. I don’t want to, either.”
“I know. The past hurts. It’s gotta. We wouldn’t make it through to the future if it didn’t. C’mon, you gotta help me a little.”
“We…we never really talked. Our supervisors and handlers didn’t appreciate unauthorized communication. Wanna know where my tac suit’s muzzle came from? I got it when I started working with her; she had it first. We were supposed to match, like a unit. I could take it off once we were back in the base, but they never let her.”
“Do you know why?”
Bucky stiffened up for a second but shook it off very abruptly. His face scrunched up, his eyes shut close for a long moment. Almost as if he tried to remember something, like a memory trying to break through, that actually didn’t quite reach the surface. Steve knew remembering was painful, but they needed more intelligence. Death was never the aspirated outcome of any mission.
“No. But… she was my nurse before she… tried to break me out.“
“She failed.”
“Of course she did! She was young, a nurse with too much compassion for her own good. It landed her a spot in the wilderness with the Red Room girls. When she returned, it was like… the wilderness had killed her, as if she had died out there.”
Steve sighed. Survival was harder than steel. It had broken many men before, strong men with potential and a future, leaving them scarred for life. It crept into their dreams and distorted the beautiful images of endless green into pouring red and suffocating black.

“What’s your plan?”, Bucky asked, noticing how his friend’s forehead had crinkled up from all the sorrowful thoughts. Hydra had made him forget a lot of things, but they didn’t manage to extinguish his instincts. Especially not the instinctual knowledge about Steve’s subtle expressions. He needed to change the topic.
Steve explained his plan.
“Okay. I’ll get Sam. Let’s crush Hydra.”
Sam was not excited to go on “another spin on the Hydra-carusel”, as he put it. Bucky’s eyes stayed on him, even when the pararescue shot an uncharacteristic glare at the mirror. They didn’t leave him when dark hands smashed the cutlery drawer shut and they even picked up the shakiness of the same hands ripping open a sugar pack over a steaming cup of coffee. Steve was packing up things, but Bucky noticed. Something strange hung around Sam, a silent, inner entropy that begged to be released. So Bucky walked over to face Sam. If they entered a mission like this, the pararescue would be distracted and consequently, be killed. Rebecca was a trickster, and troubled souls were such an easy target.
The air became thicker the moment Bucky stepped into the kitchen, but he couldn’t risk Sam’s life. The latter did gulp, unintentionally, and clanged the mug against his lunch plate, a nervous startled movement, when his eyes spotted the metal hand just behind his table. Then, he looked up and Bucky was thrown back by the darkness in Sam’s eyes. All of a sudden, he realized. His voice was huskier than he’d hoped for.
“I killed him, didn’t I?”
The question dragged the ceiling down, pressed the space together. Steve, who stood in the doorway, seemed to feel it too, he unconsciously ducked. The stale air carried a hint of desperation, a hint of catastrophe. The blond soldier hesitated, he wanted to solve this conflict, but it wasn’t his battle to fight. Bucky’s sullen voice again broke the devastation.
“The guy from your wallet, I killed him.”
Sam’s eyes pulled to slits. Before him stood a lost man, face and posture whispering defeat. It was back - the sting of disappointment Bucky so foolishly hoped to never feel again. Every day he was awake, a new layer of his subconscious was pulled back by fate, revealing yet another victim’s death training his soul and putting fire to his mind.
“No”, Sam answered slowly and got up, “the Remnant did.”
He pushed past the two supersoldiers, steps driven by pain.
The bathroom door clicked shut.

The air in the car Natasha had rented was a little stale when she returned. She blamed it on her hostage in the trunk. A quick look assured her he was still there and out of it. Good.
It took her less than half an hour to find both the place the director had suggested for their meeting plus a parking spot she wouldn’t be towed from. The address led her to a row of buildings that was long due for renovation. She shrugged and went on a search for the right apartment number. When she had found the right place, she almost rang the bell but realized she’d forgotten something in the car.
“Do not pass Go. Do not collect 200$”, she sighed to herself, then turned around. The Hydra hostage cuffed to her wrist whined.
“Really!? Why are we turning back? We just got here!”
“Hostages don’t get to ask questions. Ruins the reputation. But if you need to know, I forgot my cappuccino in the car.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No. I paid four euros for this one.” He grumbled something then, but Natasha was sure she heard him complain about “hipsters” and “coffee fanatics”. It was hilarious.
Second turn. Her finger almost pressed the doorbell, when suddenly, the door opened in front of the Russian, revealing an elderly woman with a child by her hand. Making way, Natasha quickly slid her hand over the cuff that tied her hostage to her own wrist. She pretended not to notice when his eyes went big as soon as her hand slipped into his. Come on, man. The Black Widow’s holding your hand and you don’t play along? Oh, Natasha. In your hand, every man is the wrong one.
Well, it’s kinda hard to find someone with shared life experience. Steve had a point.

The Russian noticed the little girl’s blue eyes were only focused on her. Natasha handed her prized cappuccino to her “boyfriend”. Then, the once redhead pulled out one of the fine pretzels she’d bought at the Viktualienmarkt. The girl’s eyes lit up at the gift. With a smile, the elderly woman stopped. She kindly inquired if the spy was here for the apartment that, apparently, was vacant. Natasha nodded, it was a good cover. My boyfriend and I just moved to town. We’ve visited three apartments so far. Maybe today is our lucky day. The old woman nodded and grabbed her granddaughter’s hand.
When Natasha stepped into the building, the smell of cellar and gas hit her nose. A bicycle leaned against the wall and the lowest stair was broken. The second level looked a lot like the first, with a lonely plant sitting in a corner. Doormats were laid out in front of every apartment door except for the one holding the number three.
She finally got her chance to signal her arrival, but she kept her left hand on her gun. When the door opened and an agent appeared, she relaxed and pulled her hostage into the room with her.
“You brought a friend. How nice. Welcome.”
Her eyes went around the poorly-furnitures place. The director wasn’t here.
“Where is the director? He said he would-”
“You’ll get a chance to talk to him in a few minutes. The files?”
“Only if you have the breaker. Could you reach Stark?”
“No. But, even better, Pepper Potts assisted us with the breaker. I’m not sure how she did it, but she read those terrifying papers Stark calls notes. Twice. She said you’d need to put this device right next to the electrical supply. Just stick it onto the surface. The breaker will destroy the machine and shut down every process running. If Zola is in there, he should be stuck. The essential part: you need to be there before the transfer is done.”
Natasha nodded. She could do that. It didn’t really seem that hard. She wanted to ask a question, but the agent wasn’t done yet.
“Is she a genius? Pepper, I mean. I’d propose her for the next Nobel Prize. Stark’s papers are”, he scooted a little closer, looking to both sides before speaking again, “a nightmare.”
“I don’t think you can do that. Listen, my intel is stained with false information. I need to get back to Rogers as fast as possible. Lomawu is behind everything. And he’s moving fast. Too many people are on his side. I need to tell the others.”
“He sure knows how to sell his lies. Our organization had observed him in London, ’95. Back then, he’d just finished his degrees and received a scholarship for the CIA. A brilliant student. He joined them in a time Hydra was very active.”
“I remember. They placed many agents in government organizations back then.”
Natasha’s mind went back to that time. Training had not been over yet, but she could recall how a few girls had been pulled out of the classes before graduation so that they could “find their place in the world to become heralds of the new coalition“; Hydra, the KGB and a few other organizations. Most of the girls were dead now. Not that Natasha missed them. Four of them had died at her own hands. She knew SHIELD had at least two more on their radar.

The agent nodded.
“Are you ready to leave all that behind today? To slay your past? Personal attachments can’t get in the way.”
Natasha stared at the agent. He may have read her file, but he had no idea what he was talking about. Her past was not something you could understand. Too much pain, too much death.
“Attachment was my past. A means to obedience. I will be free by the end of the day.”
“Are you worried about the Captain? He won’t be happy.”
“Why is everyone so concerned with Steve Rogers’ opinion? He doesn’t intimidate me. If he decides it’s time for me to go, I’ll go. He has his standards set so high I couldn’t reach them if I became a nun. I’ll always be the Black Widow. It’s a truth I can’t shake.”
There was a silence in the room that seemed to hang over the two agents like a gloomy cloud, leaving a prickly feeling on their skins as if summer had come and rain was in the air.
“I should get going”, Natasha said with a look at her watch, “the boys should be up by now.”
“You still haven’t told me about your friend, though. You two look pretty close”, the agent joked while pointing at the handcuffs.
“Picked him up in Augsburg. Thought the director would appreciate a little gift. There is a condition, though.”
“Condition?”
“Only feed him hipster-style cappuchino. Don’t ask. He loves that stuff”, she ignored the hostage’s protest.
“You’re a funny woman, Natasha. I can never figure you out.”
“Well, Agent Harris, I don’t intend you to.”
She stood up, ready to go. But the agent objected and pulled out a tablet. The dark screen turned into a video call screen and soon, their call was answered. The director’s face pulled up. A smile was on his lips.
“Agent Romanoff. Good to see you. I was informed about your status. Almost choked when I was contacted about a strangely furious Lieutenant Whittaker. Good work. You left an impression. His partner, Janet Annie Henderson, was reported dead this morning. Any intel on that?“
“It wasn’t us, I just received that information from Barton myself. I suggest you add another point on your Remnant-file.”
“We’ll look into it. How’s Rogers doing?”
“He’s fine… a little injured, but you can read about it in the files.”
“But nothing serious?”
Natasha smiled. This was hilarious. Coulson hadn’t changed a bit.
“No, Sir. I would’ve reported serious injuries right away.“
“Alright. The files are a valuable addition to our databases. One more thing, Romanoff; I didn’t only send my agent to supply you with the breaker, he also has a key with access to a fully equipped safe-house base in the Swiss Alps. A Quinjet is waiting for you at the Munich Oberpfaffenhofen Airport, take it and recover at the base. My apologies. I regret not being able to assist you today, but we have our hands full with urgent matters ourselves.”
“What you did was more than enough, Coulson. Thank you.“
“Just don’t let him go. Make sure he’s dead. We can’t afford to have him running around any longer. He’s uncontrollable.”
“Copy that. Oh, and Coulson?”
He watched her with that calm smile he’d worn when being introduced to Agent Romanoff for the first time. Fury had still been their boss back then.
“Barton told me to say hi.”
Coulson’s face lit up before it froze on the post-call screen.

Natasha was on her way to the door, her denim jacket casually thrown over her arm.
“Bye, Agent Harris. By the way, you should tell her.”
“What? Tell who?”
The Russian grinned.
“Tell Pepper about your crush”, she was already halfway through the door, but turned around again with a smirk, “before I tell Tony.”