Tread carefully, Barnes.
Steve looks skeptical when they arrive at Clint’s building, but James just goes on up and knocks on the door. His stomach is a knot of nerves and Steve being there most likely isn’t helping, but Steve has answers. Steve knows the guy he apparently used to be. Clint knows the name Hydra. Natalia is somehow wrapped up in all of this.
It feels like the only one out of the loop is James himself, and this is his life. He swallows dryly, knocks again when no one answers the door. It swings open a moment later, Natalia glaring up at them. “Who’s this?” she asks, voice sharp and hostile.
“Steve. He knew me before I left for the army,” James says, pushing past her.
“Before you what,” Natalia hisses, pulling Steve inside when he hesitates, shutting the door and locking it.
James looks around the apartment, surprised to find it marginally tidy. The curtains are drawn, blocking out the natural light and Clint’s pacing rather than sitting on the couch with a box of pizza like he usually is. He looks up, eyes glinting with steel when he sees James. “That was quick,” he says.
“I need you both to tell me what’s going on,” James demands, voice steady despite the way he’s shaking.
Clint’s eyes cut to Steve, seeming to realise he’s there for the first time. “You trust him?” he asks.
James looks over at Steve, who just looks bewildered and unsure, like he’s suddenly regretting following James here. “No, but he won’t repeat anything said here. Now tell me why me mentioning Hydra sent you both into a panic.”
Natalia makes a soft sound, her shoulders slumping. “James, you have to understand that we didn’t know,” she murmurs.
“Know what,” James near cries, whipping around to glare at her.
Clint steps forward and James flinches back, instantly hit with bewilderness, wondering why he did it. Clint looks crestfallen and the room loses some of it’s tension as he realises how worked up James it. “You might...let’s just all sit down, okay? Including you,” he says to Steve. “Who wants coffee?”
James just shakes his head, stomach turning over. He takes a seat on the couch and Natalia settles down beside him, tucking her feet underneath her. Steve’s still hovering awkwardly by the front door. “Steve, this is Natalia and Clint. You guys, this is Steve. Like I said, we’ve known each other for a long time,” James introduces.
Steve dips his head in a nod, looking smaller under Natalia’s gaze. “I - I found out that Bucky was alive a few days ago,” he says.
“Bucky? Wait - found out he was alive?” Clint echoes, drifting back over with the coffee pot and some mugs.
James shakes his head. “We’ll get to that. First, I need to know about Hydra,” he demands.
The room goes quiet - Steve confused, Clint tentative and Natalia stormy. Natalia speaks first. “What do know? You said you heard the name in one of your dreams,” she prompts.
James finds his gaze settling anywhere but someone’s face. “I don’t - I don’t remember, exactly. The dream was a memory, I know that much. They, uh.” He stops, sucking in a breath through his teeth. He glances at Steve who has drifted closer, eyes on James. “I think something happened when I was in the army that made them think I was dead. Steve received a letter saying I was killed in action, but, obviously, I wasn’t. I was taken.”
Natalia’s eyes flash with something like fire and she narrows her eyes. “By Hydra?”
“I think so. I was - I get flashes? Of - of lights. And blood, and people, and - fuck - and electricity,” he bites out. “I was there for three years. I remember fighting, but they had this - Chair. They had the Chair and it made me forget.” He chokes out a bitter laugh. “Everything’s murky, but I remember them redirecting my fight to their side. I killed for them. I was their - zimniy soldat.”
Natalia freezes up, eyes going wide. “Say that again,” she demands.
He looks at her, feeling drained. “Zimniy soldat,” he complies.
“You’re - no, you’re dead,” she hisses. “There were complications - malfunctions - he died on a train by the -”
“Belarus border?” he cuts in.
She falls silent and something about her has shut off, like she’s not comfortable around him anymore. She stares at him, lips a thin line. “You’re saying you’re the Winter Soldier?” she asks.
His blood runs cold. “You were there,” he says, voice blank.
She stands up, stalking away with a saunter that he recognises. “I was theirs, too, soldat. You were in Department X, me? I was with the Red Room.”
“I helped train you,” he whispers, horrified.
She glares at him. “You disciplined me. Until I got too good, then they took you away. I had too much of my own brain for their liking. I got out. Guess who they sent after me?” she asks. He hates the way he can’t pick out any emotion in her voice. “You, soldat. They sent you to kill me. And you nearly succeeded - if I hadn’t moved -” she stops, turning to face them.
He watches with bile in his throat as she pulls up the hem of her shirt, showing him a bullet wound he’s seen before. Only now, he can piece the mark together with a memory - sand all around him, stones digging into his stomach. Blood. Always so much blood. He failed, but -
“If I had wanted you dead, chernaya vdova, you would be.”
She studies him, further away that she’s ever been. “You were a puppet,” she murmurs. “It wasn’t your choice.” The anger seems to seep out of her, and she scrapes a hand down her face. “Shit. I’m sorry, it’s just. I never thought I’d have to see you again. The Winter Soldier still haunts my nightmares.”
He flinches. “I’m -”
“Don’t.” It’s Clint speaking. “It wasn’t your fault. They put you in the Chair, you said?” he asks. James nods, looking at him reluctantly. He can’t help but acknowledge how Natalia is staying away from him. “Look at this,” Clint says softly.
He’s got a folder in his lap and he throws it over to James. James catches it, looking down at the cover. Immediately, he feels sick. The Chair is pictured on the front, a diagram of it underneath detailing how it works and what it does. “They burned my memories out of me,” he says.
A choked sound comes from his left and he looks up. Steve’s still standing there, eyes wide and suspiciously shiny. James clenches his jaw, hand curling into a fist before looking back down. He turns the page and sucks in a startled breath. There’s a picture of him stuck to the page, but he’s hardly recognisable. He’s wearing full tac gear - the same stuff he has today and jumped out of the train wearing - including the mask and goggles. His hair hangs limply at the sides of his masked face, further making him unrecognizable.
“Hydra are a secret division run in Russia, but they have bases in Germany, Kazakhstan and Iran. I’m part of a team dedicated to taking them down and so is Natalia. They focus on human experimentation and their purpose is something along the lines of taking over the world,” Clint says.
James looks up, feeling strangely hollow. “Order through pain,” he mutters.
“I’ve heard that far too many times,” Clint sighs. “Along with the usual ‘cut off one head, two more shall take it’s place’ crap. Anyway, The Winter Soldier Project was started in 2007 and continued for three years before their protege lost it and threw himself off a moving train into a gorge.”
James frowns down at the file again, eyes raking over the ‘deceased’ stamp. “I didn’t lose it. I knew what I was doing,” he says.
“James…” Clint trails off, eyebrows drawing together.
“I didn’t want to die. I’d already tried that - I just wanted out. I don’t know what happened with the wipe that day but it didn’t work. I retained knowledge that I was human, rather than another one of Hydra’s weapons. I knew they wouldn’t look for my body - what was the point? No one could have survived that fall.” He takes a deep breath, studying the words on the file. “I remember - before each mission they would inject me with something. It was classified, only one person ever did it and no one ever knew. Afterwards, I was always stronger, faster, more durable. I could go without sleep for days. It wore off after about a week, but while I had it I felt indestructible. It must helped me survive.” He’s not sure why everything’s coming back now.
The room is silent again. He wonders if he should continue, but something tells him he should stop for now. He looks up, straight at Clint. Clint’s got an incredibly sad look on his face, like he’s imagining everything James had gone through. “So you survived and came here? Why here?” Clint asks.
“He was born in Red Hook,” Steve speaks up, sounding choked up. Everyone turns to look at him. He shuffles his feet, cheeks red. “His name is - used to be - William Jonathan Beckham, if you want to look it up.”
James shakes his head. “Steve’s telling the truth. I did look it up. I’m officially dead, I even have a grave in St Paul’s.”
Clint looks unnerved. “So, what, you just happened to find this guy again?”
“More like he found me. We haven’t...talked, but we’re going to. Apparently, we grew up together,” James sighs, suddenly exhausted.
Steve’s looking at him, searching his eyes like he’s going to find the answer to everything there. He looks worn out and in shock, clearly not expecting all of this. And for all of this to happen to his former best friend? His former boyfriend? It must be a lot for the guy. James considers him, finding himself surprised that Steve’s holding up so well.
Clint looks between them, gaze calculating. “Maybe you guys should have that talk. Me and Natalia are going to run some errands, dig up some more stuff for you, James,” he says and stands up, heading over to Natalia.
James barely registers them leaving before he brings his knees up to his chest and pats the space on the couch beside him. Steve hesitates, before walking over and settling down. It’s only silent for a moment, both exhaustion and tension floating in the air between them. Steve speaks first.