Run (A Bucky Barnes Recovery Story)

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James had not seen Natalia in weeks. He was counting the days since he had seen her last. He still met with every other Black Widow candidate that he trained, and various sleeper agents, but not Natalia, never Natalia. He could feel himself slipping. He was collapsing. He didn’t feel like James anymore and he missed her, so he needed to find her.

When his handlers came for him that day, the men with the guns whose eyes he usually avoided, James looked up and stared them all hard in the face.

“Get up,” one of the men said and for once, James didn’t move.

“Why don’t I see Natalia Romanova anymore,” he asked. The handlers fidgeted under his empty glare. They weren’t used to being addressed by the Winter Soldier, like he thought himself to be on their equals. The first man to talk spoke up again and he was frowning.

“Doesn’t matter to you,” he said and spat on the ground. “Now ge-”

“It does matter to me,” James said and slowly, threateningly, he rose and his eyes never moved from the man’s face. “Where is Natalia Romanova?” Guns cocked, but James ignored them all. Let them shoot him, he didn’t care.

“Your relationship was inappropriate,” the handler sneered. They knew. Of course they knew.

“Why,” James retorted. “Because she treated me like a human being?” The man slapped the barrel of his gun in his hand and stepped forward into James’ space until their noses were inches apart. James refused to move. He wouldn’t be intimidated away by this short man with a gun. He wanted Natalia.

“If you know what’s good for you, comrade,” the man said, spittle flying off the ends of his words. “You’ll shut the hell up right now.” James glared and ground his teeth, but a new plan half-formed in his mind as the barrel of a gun was pressed to his temple. He had to get out of this room first, get to the training room. He had to let them think he was letting it go.

So as much as James hated it with every screaming piece of him, he relaxed his shoulders and lowered his gaze and stepped back a little from the man. His handlers laughed to each other, relieved, and swung their guns around. He let them push him roughly out of the room and walk him down the halls.

“What did he think he was gonna do anyway? Stupid piece a-”

“Ha, even the bloody Winter Soldier knows who’s in charge here!”

“You gonna try to look me in the eye again, filth??”

I’m a prisoner. I’m a prisoner.

James ignored them, blocked them out, repeated his own name to himself, repeated Natalia’s name. He knew who he was and he wouldn’t let these weak, trigger-happy pawns get the best of him. So he glared hard into the ground, trying to channel away his hatred and just get to the room.

Just get to the training room.

They flung James into the room then and he stood there, listening to them walk away, still laughing to themselves like they’d won some grand victory over him. He had only minutes to wait for the next trainee, and he stood with his arms crossed, patient.

When she finally arrived, some Hallie Volkov, a Black Widow candidate, James didn’t let her fight him off. He grabbed her shoulders and slung her around, slamming her into the wall. Volkov gasped and struggled, but he had caught her off-guard and as her trainer, he knew her weaknesses.

“Natalia Romanova,” James growled in her face. “Where is she.”

“Who do you think you are?!” Volkov hissed, stunned, and she tried to rip herself away from him, but he squeezed with his left-hard-and heard something in her wrist snap. Volkov gasped and her face grew white. James didn’t see her knee come out swiftly underneath them until it got him in the gut and he pulled away for a second, unable to breath. “You’re out of your mind!” Volkov cried.