Tragedy of Natalie Thomas-MCU

Chapter 3

 Chapter 3

Sam and Bucky rounded the corner, Sam was on the phone with Pepper Stark, discussing what to do about Natalie's state and how to announce her found without getting the government, (Besides S.H.I.E.L.D.) involved. Bucky was nervously running his fingers through his hair, his brain constantly reminding him how they should have gotten there sooner. Natalie's frail body echoing what he remembered of himself. A wave of memories kept threatening to drown him, images of blood, bodies, and the excruciating memory wipes filling every corner of his brain. He walked slowly toward the couch, trembling. Tapping his fingers nervously on his metal arm, he glanced down at the shining limb, and was flooded with images of it wrapped around a stranger's neck, drenched with water and blood.

Breathing more heavily now he shakily turned to Sam, but he had his back turned and was on the phone. He shouldn't bother him.

Sam didn't notice anything was wrong until Bucky was muttering rapidly in russin and clawing at his arm, trying to get it off, eyes vacant.

"Pepper, I'm really sorry, I'm gonna have to call you back ok?" Sam said with a sigh.

Sam walked over and crouched down so he was eye level with Bucky, who was sitting on the couch, lit with the golden light coming through the huge windows.

"Bucky, you're having a flashback." Sam said, with a rare hint of genuine concern in his voice. "Take deep breaths, come on focus on me here."

After a few long moments Bucky glanced up.

"Ok good, now breathe with me, come on." Sam said, then started taking exaggerated breaths, trying to get Bucky to copy him.

When he finally did Sam asked, "Ok, do you know where we are?" and grabbed the first thing in arm's reach, an empty chip bag.

"Oh man we gotta clean up, it's disgusting in here."

"Can you describe this for me?"

"Чип... Чип сумка." Bucky slurred.

"English please." Sam said, eyebrows furrowed.

"It's.. it's a chip bag."

"Ok good. Where are we?"

"С-Сибирь."

"Again, English, not Russian."

"S-siberia."

"Wrong, you're in New York, 2024, and it's almost dinner, I wanna cook, but I can't exactly with you like this. Now come on, work with me here. What color is this pillow?"

"B-blue?"

"English, thank god." Sam thought.

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When a portal rimmed with yellow light erupted in the middle of the kitchen and Dr. Steven Strange stepped out, cloak dramatically sweeping, Sam had barely started dinner, but Bucky was successfully fully present again.

"What are you cooking there Sam?" Strange smirked, walking over to the counter.

Sam jumped a foot in the air and dropped the spoon he was holding, "Strange please don't scare me like that."

The kitchen was off the main living area through a little archway. It was pretty big and messy. There were still clean dishes thanks to the dishwasher but half of the countertops were covered in things pulled out of pockets and purses. It had a huge fridge covered in fanmail and to do lists, containers filled with coffee beans and hot chocolate, jars filled with cooking utensils, and a little countertop with some bar stools by the coffee machine. Bucky was sitting at one of those stools smirking at Sam's reaction.