Fragments of Us: A WinterWidow Short Story

Chapter Five

She had wanted to talk to him the whole time he stood there, waiting for his food.  Her stomach churned, thoughts drifting back to the ring now lying on her bed. She had tried to convince him to stay, even though she knew with Matt there the conversation she wanted to have couldn't happen. By the time Natasha and Matt had finally said their goodbyes it was late - too late to reach out to Bucky. She had convinced herself that morning would be fine. But that had been hours ago.

Now, Natasha found herself knocking on his door, unsure what she was expecting. The  shoebox was tucked into her bag, dog tags coiled around her fingers, and the ring box buried in her pocket. It was early, and she knew she shouldn't be here. But she needed answers, she had been trying to for weeks to get them. She couldn't keep waiting. 

A moment passed before the door opened, revealing Bucky - Shirtless and groggy, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Natasha's gaze faltered, drawn to the scars that mapped his body. Mostly concentrated around where skin met the metal of the prosthetic arm. She had never thought about the reality. It was always hidden by his shirts. Up close though, it was evident that little care had been taken in its connection—functionality had clearly come before aesthetics.

The scars extended past his shoulder, and a long jagged line ran parallel to his hip, disappearing below the waist of his sweats. 

"Natal-sha? What are you doing here? It's" His voice was rough, still heavy with sleep as he glanced back into his room, she assumed looking for a clock "nearly 3 a.m."

She forced herself to meet his eyes, still heavy from exhaustion. The way he said her name felt wrong. Like he'd almost called her Natalia but caught himself before he could finish.

"I couldn't sleep."

He raised an eyebrow and stepped back into his room, leaving the door ajar, as he kicked a bag out of the way. It was a invitation, tentative but still an invitation.

"So you came to me? Even though we hardly know each other?" he asked, voice filled with skepticism. 

Natasha stepped in behind him, hands sinking into the pockets of her coat. The small room was sparsely furnished; a small kitchenette by the door, a bed shoved into the far corner, along side several boxes. It felt like he was still in the process of moving. But his file said he'd been there years. Ever since joining. 

"That's not true, is it?" she replied.

He paused, his expression wavering, but said nothing. Instead, he turned away and moved to start a pot of coffee. As the machine gurgled, he grabbed a T-shirt from an open suitcase and pulled it over his head. The movements were sluggish and she caught him stifling a yawn. 

"You were at the hospital." she continued softly, not sure what his thoughts would be "I saw you outside my room, multiple times. It didn't click until today, but you were there. If we were strangers why would you be there?"

"Fury asked me to check on you and make sure you were recovering well." His response sounded so mechanical. He ran a hand through his hair trying to calm the tousled hair, but it resisted the attempts.

"That doesn't make sense. Why ask you?"

He stilled, fingers tightening on the counter's edge, Natasha watching his each move to get a better read on him. To understand him better. "A lot of things in life don't make sense. I just follow my orders."

"Is that why you'r Je going on another mission? Because you were told? Do you do anything for yourself?"

His head dropped, jaw clenching. His words came our rough. "With all due respect Romanoff, you don't know me. You don't get to judge me."

"But I did know you." She whispered. "You were my partner."