a lion among wolves, bucky barnes (hiatus)

prelude.

WASHINGTON D.C.
2014

NATASHA'S heeled boots clacked noisily against a glossy floor as she marched down a spotless corridor, crimson hair swaying just below her shoulders as she offered sultry smirks to those who passed her by. She had been a member of S.H.I.E.L.D. for years, yet she never got tired of seeing those cautious eyes scope her out, those arms hug files and tablets closer to their chests as if she could snatch away their information just by glancing at them. Natasha smiled to herself. Whatever was in their grasps, she likely already knew.

She approached a pair of tall glass doors, manned by two broad-shouldered security guards that wore blank faces and sunglasses at all times, which in Natasha's opinion was very haughty.

"Agent Romanoff," she introduced herself immediately, whipping out her I.D. card with little less than a smile upon her face. "Clearance level 'X.'"

Her message was clear enough. Let me in.

The taller of the security guards dipped his head. "Of course, ma'am." He pushed one of the gleaming doors open for her, and she strode through without looking back. She glided into the sixth floor of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s D.C. headquarters, greeted by rows of busily-working agents with eyes glued to monitors, no doubt solving epic global crises with one press of a button. Natasha had only one of these agents in mind, her deft emerald eyes pinpointing his whereabouts almost instantaneously. His office was located near the farthest corner of the floor, allowed a view of the bustling city below thanks to a massive window stretching over the entire back wall.

Nat could not help but anticipate her conversation with Jack Odion: he was one of the only pleasurable people that she encountered while at work. She gripped the file under her arm a bit tighter.

A brisk knock on his wooden door. "It's me, Jack," she called without laughter in her tone. There was work to be done.

"C'mon in, Nat."

She pushed open the door. He met her with a genuine grin, a mouth full of diamond teeth and low-comedy. Natasha could not bite back the half-smile that tugged at her own lips. His eyes, a mixture slate grey and quiet blue, held nothing but good-natured irony and brutal confidence. He was polished and sharpened down to the last button on his suit's jacket, a clipped pristineness that was surprising for someone with such recklessness in their stature. Natasha's smiling eyes wandered to a picture frame set on his desk, the glass housing a photograph of Jack and his husband of two years. It was always a favorite of hers.

"It's so good to see you again," Jack said, rising from his seat and kissing Nat lightly on the cheek, a gesture she would allow from a very select few.

"It is," she agreed with a curt nod. "But I'm afraid we don't have much time for pleasantries. I'm here unassigned—I'm not technically supposed to be speaking with you. Shield's been shaken up, and everyone's trying to keep low to the ground."

Jack's brows furrowed. "What does that mean? Has Fury sent out any briefing?" He began to turn to his computer to check for an alert from the director, but a brisk head shake from Natasha halted him.

"I'm afraid Fury's what's been shaken. He's dead."

Jack stared at her in utmost bewilderment, lifting a hand to his mouth and whispering, "Oh, God . . ."

"He was assassinated," Nat went on, pressing her lips tightly together. "And I have my suspicions on who exactly did it, maybe who gave the orders. But I can't investigate it in Shield's name because I'm not supposed to be suspicious at all. Fury had his hands in some dirt before he died. I don't think the majority of it was unwilling. I've got Steve Rogers in on it, but that's not enough. I need more."

"How much more are we talking?"

Nat handed him the file. "This much more. Jekaterina Ivanov. She's a smart one, I'll give her that. Might even give me a run for my money. She's worked for us in the past, but these days she sticks close to the FBI. There's a lot of gray area surrounding her. "

"Huh," Jack mumbled, flipping through the woman's file. "She's got history as a bail bondsperson, she's an expert profiler, crazy linguist skills . . . looks like she's one of the sharpest behavioral analysts we've got—why haven't I heard of her before?"

Nat smirked frighteningly. "That's where it gets messy. She went missing ten years ago."

"Of course she did," he said tiredly, tossing the file onto his desk. "And here I thought this was something straightforward."

"Let me explain," Natasha held up a hand, warding off his doubts. "What I mean is everyone thinks she went missing ten years ago. My guess is it's all a cover-up. The day she turned twenty, she just disappeared, like she was flicked off the face of the earth. No missing person report was filed, nobody called the police, and every record with even an allusion to her is gone. We're talking her birth certificate, performance reviews, job applications—all of it. There's nothing."

Jack scowled reproachfully, tipping back in his chair. "How do you figure all this?"

"I'm me," Natasha quipped with utmost sincerity, the corner of her mouth tilting upward. "And thanks to some excellent research, I was able to dig up that file. Turns out she changed her name to June Ivanski a few years ago."

"She sounds Russian."

"Only half. Spanish mother, Russian father. June was a Russian citizen all her life, until she went missing in two-thousand and four. Six years later, she obtained United States citizenship under the name June Ivanski and eventually joined the FBI with admittedly astonishing ease. Degree and all. The thing I couldn't figure out though, was what exactly she was doing for those six years, and how she reentered the public without arousing a lick of suspicion."

"Nat, don't you think we have more to worry about?" Jack questioned doubtfully, still dazed from Natasha's abrupt announcement of Fury's assassination, the shock lingering upon his face. He eyed her with withheld skepticism, not really understanding why this Ivanski character was so important to her when there were apparently much bigger problems to be dealing with, like replacing the director of S.H.I.E.L.D..

Then again, Nat had always been rather difficult to figure out.

"Because I'm curious," she said simply enough, though there was an undertone of dismissiveness in her cool voice. "And if she's half the agent that thing right there says she is—" she pointed to the manila folder Jack held in his olive hand, "—then she'll make my job much easier." She paused a moment. "Not that I'm not confident in my own abilities."

"Naturally," Jack agreed. "But I'm still confused as to why you're telling me all of this. What do you need from me?"

A delighted simper dawned over Natasha's sharp face, her feline eyes snapping with determination. "Time. June isn't the only person I'm looking for. But I need her to help track down my real target. Keep Shield off my back for as long as you can. I'll owe you."

With a nearly unnoticeable wink, Natasha turned on her heel and marched towards the door.

Jack called after her, "Who's your real target then?"

She swung around and replied casually, "Ever heard of the Winter Soldier?"

• • •
we'll see much more of Jack in part two lol