N-701124 {b. barnes}

VII

"It was him. He looked right at me like he didn't even know me." Steve said softly.

"How's that even possible? It was like seventy years ago." Sam answered.

"Zola. Bucky's whole unit was captured in '43, Zola experimented on him. Whatever he did helped Bucky survive the fall. They must have found him and..." Steve's voice trailed off.

"None of that's your fault, Steve." Natasha sighed. 

"Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky." Steve looked outside for a few seconds. "She was there, she was with him. Belle was killed at the end of '44, right before Christmas. Less than a month before Bucky fell."

"So you're saying you think it's her?" Sam asked.

"It has to be. I barely saw her face, but everything is just so familiar. All I know is that she had black hair and green eyes. Freckles, too. Just like Belle did." Steve pressed his lips together. "It was a HYRDA base that we blew up the day she died. They had to have found her, and...."

"None of this is your fault." Natasha reminded, wincing in pain. "What if it's not her?"

"Then I don't know what Bucky is going to do without her."

She sat in a corner, keeping a close eye on her partner as the doctors stitched up the bullet wound in her shoulder. She bit down on her tongue, but didn't show any signs of being in pain.

Her mind kept drifting back to a few hours prior. One minute, she was on the ground. The next, she was in someone's arms, being carried somewhere.

She was almost certain it was Winter. Who else would've grabbed her?

She looked up suddenly when a doctor flew across the room. Some of the agents pointed their rifles at Winter. She frowned, confused.

She kept her gaze focused on her partner as he was questioned, and eventually, smacked across the face.

"You bastard." She spat, her voice heavy with an accent. "You don't get to touch him like that."

"You don't get to tell me what I can and can't do."

"He's mine. You don't get to touch him like that. You shouldn't even be touching him at all. Stupid bastard." She snapped.

She looked up to see a rifle aimed at her chest. A smirk tugged the corners of her mouth upwards. She knew no one would shoot her. She was far too important for that. She stared down the barrel of the rifle. 

She didn't feel fear. Not anymore.

"The man on the bridge....who was he?" 

She looked over. Confusion spread across his face. He was lost in thought, almost daydreaming.

"You met him earlier this week on another assignment." 

"I knew him."

She frowned. Something was seriously wrong with her partner. He tried convincing her only a few days prior that he knew her. Of course he knew her; they were partners. Yet he tried saying he knew her some other way.

What if he was right?

"Your work has been a gift to mankind. You shaped the century, and I need you to do it one more time. Society is at a tipping point between order and chaos. Tomorrow morning we're gonna give it a push. But, if you two don't do your part, I can't do mine, and HYDRA can't give the world the freedom it deserves."

"But I knew him." He tried arguing one more time.

"Prep him."

She pressed her lips together. Was she next?