We're better sorry than safe

[soldieronwards]

Who| Bucky Barnes and Natasha Romanoff (both Marvel-616).
What| The aftermath of a fight. Bucky checks up on Natasha.
Where| Natasha's room in the Training Center.
When| Shortly after this post.
Warnings/Notes| Discussion of violence.

Since the moment he saw her on the screen after he made his post, questions have been simmering hotly in Bucky's mind. Why is Natasha injured? Who hurt her? How badly did she hurt them in return? He knows they couldn't have gotten away clean, because he knows Natasha. Still, he worries about her.

And when he's worrying about Natasha, he hardly has the energy to keep up the facade he's presenting for this stupid post on the network of a man who actually cares about prurient stories distributed on the Capitol's equivalent of the internet. He's much more interested in flying to her side.

Minutes later, he's tapping on the door to her room on District 8's floor of the Training Center, tense and wordless concern on his face.

Comments

[assassinat]

I've had a lot of trouble being myself lately. [ Surely he understands. ]

It's easy to lose yourself in these circumstances.

[ In that is the truth of her visit: she wanted to confirm he was lost. ]

[soldieronwards]

[ He exhales slowly, looking down at her with worried eyes. After a few seconds, though, the worry fades away. Everything fades away except her.

She's the only person in all the worlds he's never needed to fill a role for. With her, he was his own self when he didn't remember his name. How can he be anything but himself with her? ]

I can't be lost with you, Natalia.

[assassinat]

Not just me.

[ She reminds him as she pulls her knees to her chest, holding herself as if she's afraid of falling apart any minute now. If he gets close enough, the telling sign of alcohol on her breath may answer more questions than anything else.

Natasha's struggling. This place is everything she couldn't be and it circumvented all of her methods, rendering her talents useless. ]

The skies are painted with unnumber'd sparks; they are all fire and every one doth shine; but there's but one in all doth hold his place. [ She speaks in metaphors hoping they aren't so easily picked up by the Capitol. ] You have your constant, the Northern star to guide you.

Does he?

[soldieronwards]

[ As she speaks, he sits down next to her at last and starts to lean close, as if to help her contain herself. He frowns, though, as he smells the alcohol on her breath.

And still she can quote poetry. ]

He's never needed something to guide him. He knows what's right in here.

[ Tapping his chest. ]

That much--is the same for this version, just like the one I know back home. But his friend--

[ The other James Buchanan Barnes. ]

I don't know.

He's different than me.

[assassinat]

He's certainly something. [ Different isn't the word she would use in all honesty.

The frown doesn't go unnoticed, much like the rest of his body language. He knows. It's just a little help, she'll insist when he asks, but somehow she suspects she won't be sleeping with the bottle tonight. ]

Steve believes in him.

[soldieronwards]

Steve believes in us all.

But if you've met him, you know it, Natasha. Being the Winter Soldier is different for him than it was for me. He's half-animal and half-machine. At least they let me pretend I was human.

[assassinat]

Did pretending make it all better? [ She knows it didn't. He's damaged more because of it. ]

His programming is different. Harsher.

But some animals are easier to domesticate than others.

[soldieronwards]

[ He hesitates, wanting to voice his main concern. There's no cosmic cube for this Bucky. But he doesn't want to mention the cosmic cube again where the Gamemakers could find out about it. That's too dangerous. ]

I don't know if he's one of them.

[assassinat]

Even if he's not, there is no alternative. Death isn't permanent in this place and so long as Steve cares for him...

[ There's simply no removing him from the picture without causing an even further rift to span between them. ]

We're going to have to get along.

Besides Steve could use all the help he can get.

[soldieronwards]

Death isn't always permanent in the Arena.

[ --he corrects her. ]

Sometimes it is. And here in the Capitol, who knows? We die when they want us to.

But you're right. We can't do that to Steve. That man is his best friend.

[assassinat]

Steve seems to consider me a friend as well--we really ought to teach that boy how to pick a decent pal every now and again. [ She teases while poking fun at herself.

Really, who would want to be friends with a Russian super spy? ]

What do we do about him?

[soldieronwards]

Hey.

[ With his most winning smile: ]

I consider you a friend, so watch it.

[ He considers her much more than that, but sometimes it's hard to say that much. It's also hard to answer the question she poses, so he casts his gaze away for a moment--and says nothing. ]

[assassinat]

I know. That's why you both are such good friends. You and Steve share the same poor taste in companions.

[ It bothers her that he doesn't answer, but that speaks louder than everything else. What can be done about him? ]

[soldieronwards]

We also both defend our friends, so quit badmouthing mine.

[ The grin fades, and he finally addresses the question. ]

There's nothing we really can do. Just watch him. Make sure he doesn't hurt Steve. Or you, again.

If I see he's hurt you again, I won't hold back next time.

[assassinat]

I went looking for this trouble, James. [ Frowning. ]

And I don't need anyone to fight my battles. You know that.

[soldieronwards]

Who said anything about fighting your battles for you? I figure you'll give as good as you get, too.

[assassinat]

Oh, then tell me what did you mean by that earlier remark about what will happen if he hurts me again? [ Just wondering. ]

[soldieronwards]

[ And suddenly he's serious again. ]

You saw our fight. In the Arena.

I had him, at the end. I could have killed him. I didn't.

If he keeps hurting you, I don't know if I'll pull that blow next time.