[WinterWidow] A flash before my eyes

[zimasoldier]

"He said, I,
Was out my head--I was out of control
Thought I was living, but I wasn’t and
Sometimes, you crash and you burn
Before your once again whole
Gather the pieces to the puzzle"

Characters: Bucky Barnes/Natasha Romanoff
Slash warning

Stark. He was just as clever as his father. There was something odd about letting this man use his device to probe around in his mind. He'd said this would take many treatments, and there was no guarantee that it would even fix the problem with Bucky's mind. Brainwashing was tricky business and the fact that it had been maintained and reinforced over seventy years only made it that much more difficult. Bucky wasn't sure if Stark was actually helping him out of respect for Rogers or whether he'd actually forgiven him for the Soldier's crimes. He really couldn't blame Stark if he never forgave him.

All things considered, even though he was getting treatments for his booby-trapped brain, he still couldn't go out in public. He was still a wanted criminal. On top of that, Stark didn't trust him as far as he could throw him without the Suit, so he was virtually a prisoner in Stark and company's care. That was fine, though. If he somehow triggered again, he preferred to be around those that could contain him if need be.

Then there was the curiosity of the redhead. He knew her. Vaguely, anyway. And not just because she was there when he--no--when the Soldier was hunting down Steve. She showed a wary caution around him, careful to conceal her true thoughts. She was well-trained and deadly. She was lithe and fierce; silent as the night and quicker than one might think. Who was she?

Barnes flexed the fingers of his newly attached bionic arm. It was silver and sleek, quieter than the previous and this one bore the Stark Industries branding. Stark had mentioned something about fitting it with a sort of holographic skin so he didn't draw so much attention with it. However, that was a bridge they'd cross much further in the future. --Those fingers clenched into a tight fist then loosened again, turning his hand over as if examining it. The craftsmanship was remarkable, but still eerily similar to his previous prosthetic.

Passing through the halls quietly--out of habit rather than necessity--he reached the large, open warehouse-like room that had been reinforced to train the other superhumans. Bucky pulled his hair back out of his face in a loose and messy ponytail. The sides were too short to stay put, falling back against his face, but he was able to tuck them behind his ears and get on with this. The knockoff Super Soldier squared off with a punching bag and planted a few jabs into it with his flesh arm, feeling the power it took to make it sway, dialling back when it swayed too much. His first strike with his left arm knocked the bag clear off it's suspension, laying it flat roughly five feet away. Well. That was a bit excessive and he'd hardly tapped it!

Bucky flinched when he felt a presence enter the room behind him...

"Don't suppose Stark has a sturdier anchor for this thing..." He nudged the bag with his foot. Breaking the ice? Well, he was trying. All kinds of alarm bells were going off in his head and crawling over his skin at having someone at his back. Slowly, he shifted his posture so as to turn slightly and acknowledge her presence. "I... can leave if you need privacy." Bucky offered, giving her an out if she wanted to take it.

Comments

[bozhemoi]

Natasha never would have considered that she alone was the only person in the world to have ever suffered the effects of brainwashing. She wasn't that naive. But there was a startling trend developing close to her. It had started with Barton falling prey to Loki and his stick. Now it was obvious that all those years ago before Rogers even became a capsicle, his best friend had fallen prey.

And to the Russians. Natasha couldn't help but feel a kindred spark developing. Not that she was entirely ready to acknowledge it, but she did feel like it was her duty to at least make Barnes aware that she was there. If he wanted to talk. Or not talk. She had a feeling Rogers had all of the talking covered. The man was relieved to have his best friend back - a link to his past, to his life before the ice.

But Bucky was never going to be the same. Not really. Despite Stark trying to use his technology for the good of the man's muddled mind (although, was it really such an altruistic act? Natasha was still waiting for the other boot to drop), Bucky was bound to still feel at a loss, or like he wasn't always sure where and when he was.

She had quietly entered the training room, watching him as she often did. Still trying to way up the fear she used to feel around him with the new sensation of... pity? No, that wasn't the right word. Understanding, maybe. She had once been in his shoes. She'd had Barton to bring her back from the darkness.

Her eyebrow crept up at the question and she dropped her folded arms from her chest, opening her own posture just a little. The scars always seemed to tingle a little in his presence. Quiet reminders that he'd shot her. But just like the Other Guy had once caused her nightmares after being trapped on the helicarrier, Natasha had been able to move past it.

Albeit slowly. Her lips quirked into a slight smile, and she crossed the room and headed straight for what seemed like an ordinary wall. She pressed the panel and it slid across to reveal a stash of punching bags. "You ask that like you're the first to ever knock a bag from the ceiling. You've seen your BFF, right? He's hardly holding back when he goes a few rounds."

Natasha turned, leaning back against the wall as she tucked her hands behind her and crossed her legs at the ankles. She was dressed to work out, but now it seemed more like she was there as a spectator. "Shouldn't I be asking you that question? Or should I be asking if you want more of a challenge than a sack of sand?" Clearly she didn't want to take the out.