Necessary Good, Unnecessary Evil | No rest For Wounded Souls [Bucky Barnes]

Everlasting Villain

"One of the deep secrets of life is that all that is really worth the doing is what we do for others."
-Lewis Carroll

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Natasha's POV

While Nova was in Wakanda

The air is cold, and Tony seems to not give two shits about it, keeping us both here to freeze when we could have been waiting in the car.
We have been waiting in this empty parking lot, still not sure why.
I sigh, sitting on the hood with my arms crossed.

"Are you sure you gave your man the correct address?" I wonder, watching Tony turn around.
"He gave it to me." He grumbles, peering at the space around us.
When Tony asked me to come with him to go look into Nova's past, I hesitated.
She's my friend. Digging into her past without even telling her feels wrong, even if it is for her safety.
Tony said this is for her own good, and she's too busy in Wakanda to ask her what her thoughts are about this, so I assume I'll have to deal with any consequences this will bring to our friendship.
I know how it feels to not know who you are, and I don't want her to go through that forever.
She's been with us for a year, but she already feels like family.

I tip my head back, staring at the pale blue sky above me.
Memories of the first time I met her creep into my mind, bringing me to a place in my head I haven't visited for a while.
A young Nova, sat alone on the floor of a grey cell. A tray of soup and bread was left next to her, still steaming. She was ignoring it, keeping her arms wrapped around her knees and her face hidden.
I stepped into her cell, standing a few feet from her. "It sucks, but it's safe to eat," I murmured, peering at her.
Her head snapped up, and her dark eyes pierced directly into my soul. "You speak English?" She whispered, too stunned and drained to raise her voice.
I nodded my head, looking over my shoulder to check on the guards. "Who are you?" She wondered, fear soaking her expression. She was still a kid, but what she saw quickly took that innocence away from her.
I sighed, knowing there was nothing I could do to take her out of there. "How old are you?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.
Captivity and trauma aged her, maimed her face. "Seventeen," she gulped.
My heart ached, realizing she was even younger than Yelena. "Believe me, you want to keep yourself as healthy as you can."
My suggestion came out as a dry comment, forcing myself to not get too involved.

I waited for a guard to pass by and took a deep breath. "What's your name?" I inquired, stepping closer.
She nodded at the wall on her left, glancing at the serial number printed in yellow.
I squatted down in front of her, fixing my gaze onto hers. "That's not your name. Remember who you are. They can take everything from you, but not your name. It is given to you. It's who you are. Engrave it into your brain." I whispered, keeping my voice low so only her could hear me.

Her brows lifted up, and her eyes widened for a second. It was like something in her just lit up again. "Nova. My name is Nova." She croaked, holding my stare.
I gave her a nod and stood up, wishing I could tell her that it was going to be okay.
Should I have lied to her, kept her hopes up? That would have been unfair.

Tony, clearing his throat, brings me back to the present, and I blink a few times, refocusing my attention.
A black SUV pulls up a few feet from us and turns off its engine. "That's him." He informs, stepping forward.
I follow him, carefully checking for any suspicious movements.
Tony greets a man in a navy blue suit, exchanging a few comments. "I didn't find much. The archives were destroyed by a fire a few years ago, a lot of papers were lost." The man reports, grabbing a white folder and handing it to Tony.
He grabs it, opens it, and checks the inside. "So, what do you have?" Tony wonders, looking up and passing the folder to me.
"Murphy has a few charges back in the day. I'm not sure if there are any more." The man shrugs. A subtle accent marks his words, probably Spanish or Italian.
I read down the content of the folder, knitting my brows together, confused. "Shoplifting, underage consumption of alcohol, trespassing... I mean, these are charges you would expect in a troubled teen." I mutter, feeling something is missing.
"This is not all. There was a call to the local emergency line there, but the transcription is long gone. The fire destroyed everything else." The man says, shoving his hands in his pockets.
I look over at Tony, noticing his grave expression. "When did the call happen?" He asks.
The man glances at the folder in my hands. "It was on April 29th, 2010." He says.
"That's almost a month before she came back to New York. Do you think this has anything to do with what happened to her after?" I mutter, staring at Tony.