Winter Widow One Shots

The Void

They took the risk. John had told them his experience, and Bucky knew enough about Yelena from Natalia's stories to know she wouldn't have gone in if she didn't believe there was a chance.

Still, nothing could have prepared him for this.

He'd been told what John had seen. He knew he should expect some of his darker memories. But the moment his boots hit the dirt, Bucky felt the cold grip of something too familiar.

The trees swayed, tall and black against a gray sky. The road stretched ahead, narrow and cracked. It was quiet, but the wrong kind of quiet. His breath hitched.

"No... anywhere but here, please," he whispered, to no one and to everything.

Then came the sound. A car, racing far too fast for the turn ahead.

His heart dropped.

The tires screamed as the sedan fishtailed, skidding into view. He could already hear it—the thunderous crack of metal and bone and inevitability. A gunshot rang out, slicing the silence apart.

He shut his eyes, but it didn't change the outcome. The crunch of the car still echoed as it crashed into the tree.

He opened his eyes. The wreckage was just feet away.

And there—himself. Not the man he was now, but the one with the empty eyes and mechanical precision. The Winter Soldier stepped forward as Howard Stark dragged himself from the wreckage, bloodied, breathless.

"Help my wife, please... Help."

Bucky stood frozen, all he could do was watch his past self. He grabbed Howard by the hair, lifting him effortlessly.

From this angle Bucky could see Howard's face. Eyes wide, not just in pain but recognition.

"Sergeant Barnes?" He asked, like he was seeing a ghost.

Of course, in his case he was.

"Howard!" Called a struggling voice from the car.

Howard's head twitched toward the sound, but he couldn't move any farther. The impact had shattered him in ways Bucky never noticed at the time. The fight had been over before it began. A mission. A name on a list.

"Howard!" Came the desperate call again.

But it was too late.

The Soldier moved with cold certainty, lowering Howard back into the car, his lifeless head resting against the steering wheel. Maria's eyes locked onto him, her blood-streaked face twisted in helpless horror. She didn't speak. She didn't beg. She just looked.

And then the metal hand closed around her throat.

Bucky turned away.

The moment ended.

Or... it restarted.

The hum of the engine running down the road, the gun shot, tires squealing, and the echo of metal crunching.

"No..." Bucky gasped, stepping backward. But the memory didn't relent—it was looping.

He snapped. He lunged at the image of himself as the Winter Soldier, colliding mid-step, throwing his full weight into the doppelgänger.

They hit the ground hard. Dirt flew. But the memory fought back, mechanical and strong. Too strong.

It flung him back like dead weight. He landed hard, breath knocked from his lungs.

Their bodies collided with a sickening crack, and they hit the dirt hard—bone, muscle, and fury crashing together. Dust exploded around them. Bucky grunted as they rolled, fists already flying.