Haunted By Him

Chapter Four

The train ride will take a few days to get all the way across Russia. The Winter Soldier spends a lot of time reading and rereading lists of facts about Bucky Barnes and being quizzed by Natalia until he can name the day he was born and all the names of his siblings and what his favorite color was. It’s tedious and boring and Natalia seems to be almost intentionally sharp towards him, but he doesn’t care. He’s away from Hydra and speeding every minute farther and that’s good enough for him.

The next day, Natalia asks him about it again.

“So,” she says. Her back is turned and she’s straightening the sheets on her lofted bunk in their shared sleeper. “Runaway slave, huh?”

“Something like that,” the Winter Soldier responds. He’s leaning in the doorway waiting for her and she hesitates and turns around to face him.

“What did they make you do?” She asks. He looks down and brushes hair out of his face with one gloved hand.

“I did a lot of things,” he says vaguely.

“Is that meant to be an acceptable answer?” Natalia says. The Winter Soldier doesn’t want to say it, but he realizes that she’s not going to let it go. She’s going to make him say.

“I was an assassin,” he finally admits. “And a soldier.”

Natalia doesn’t seem as phased as he thought she would and she responds almost immediately.

“So you killed people,” she says and he looks up to meet her eye for a fraction of a second.

“Yeah, I guess,” he says.

“There’s no ‘I guess’ about it, mister, you either did or you didn’t,” she replies and he lets out a frustrated breath.

“Alright, I killed people,” he says. “I killed a lot of people! Are you happy?” She looks at him and only shrugs, then turns back around and continues tucking in the corners of her sheets.

“Enough,” she says. He’s going to turn around and leave, but she keeps talking. Her voice is deceptively devoid of emotion. “So, they told you to pull the trigger under, what? Threat of torture?”

“Why do you care?” The Winter Soldier demands and she looks at him exasperatedly over her shoulder.

“You’d care,” she says. “If you were me.” She turns back around. “I wanna know who I’m smuggling.” He supposes he can’t blame her. His shoulders fall and he stares at the ground.

“Yes,” he says defeatedly. “Torture was definitely an imminent threat. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“How long did they have you?” She asks. Her bed is finished now and she turns around and leans against the wooden stilts where the bed sits.

“I don’t know,” he says back. “I don’t remember past a few years ago.” Her eyes become slits and he realizes she’s suspicious.

“What do you mean?” She asks and he stares intently at the ground and shrugs noncommittally.

“I mean my memory begins maybe seven years ago,” he says. “I don’t know anything beyond what they told me.

“Really?” Natalia says. He grinds down on his teeth.

“Really,” he says.

“And what did they tell you?” She asks. He takes a breath in. He lets it out.

“Absolutely nothing,” he whispers.

There’s a long pause.

“I’m sorry,” Natalia says and for once, her voice has lost it’s edge of sass. She sounds genuine. Part of him wants to thank her for her sincerity, but instead, he just crosses his arms over his chest in an effort to hug himself and turns around and leaves.

That night, he dreams of kissing Natalia. He’s not wearing his gloves, but both of his hands are normal and they’re on her waist and she’s got her arms slung around his neck and she’s kissing him passionately. He’s not sure where they are or what they’re doing. She nuzzles her face into his neck and he thinks he hears her tell him she loves him.

He wakes with a start in the dark. He’s stunned and his eyes are filled with tears and he doesn’t know why. He looks over at Natalia, wrapped up in her blankets with her back to him on the other bunk across the room, and then he cups his hands over his mouth and rolls over and tries to stop the tears from running down his cheeks.

He thinks he dreamed about being Bucky Barnes. He doesn’t know why.