•Chapter warnings: SPOILERS for TFATWS, read carefully!•
The streets of Madripoor are more crowded than before as we walk in the opposite direction of the bar. Text tones fill my ears, coming from both sides of the streets, telling me that everyone standing out here has gotten word of the bounty. I do my best to keep up with them in the heels and alcohol spinning in my head.
"This is not good," Zemo says, keeping his eyes focused on the path ahead of us. The light from the neon signs passing us bend around all of us, reflecting off of Bucky's suit and Zemo's long jacket.
The lights shut off above us and I freeze in my footsteps. Gunshots begin echoing in my ears, whizzing past my legs and a grip on my arm pulls me to a run straight ahead.
"Come on!" Sam yells, dodging men on motorcycles trying to intercept our escape. Sam trails a bit behind Bucky and I as I struggle to run in the shoes I was given. My hands fly to my head, looking over my shoulder as bullets ricochet off the buildings surrounding the alleyway. "I can't run in these heels!" Sam yells.
I let out a breath and crane my neck to look back at him, hair flying into my face. "Are you kidding me?" I exclaim. Nonetheless, we keep running with Bucky in the lead and I follow him blindly. We take a sharp turn into another darkened alley and come to a shrieking halt when Zemo appears at the end of it, shooting a man dead who had us in his sights.
"Where do we go?" Sam asks, out of breath. Suddenly all of them looking at me with expectant looks on their faces.
I duck when two more gunshots ring above us, taking out another two men I hadn't seen in the dark. "How should I know?" I yell over the chaos. Their faces don't change and I'm dumbfounded. "I'm not omnipotent, you idiots!" My eyes flash towards the motorcycles zooming down the alleyway, alive with neon lights lining the wheels.
I push my hands out, knocking them off their seats and onto the concrete, dropping their weapons in the process. I lean down, placing my hands on my knees to catch my breath as the world gets quiet again. I've learned to block out Sam and Bucky's thoughts, out of privacy for both of them. Thankfully, there's no one else to hear at the moment.
"You seem to have a guardian angel," Zemo says as he steps out of cover and scan the buildings surrounding us.
"Well, this is too perfect." A woman's voice echoes and we all turn towards the direction it came from. She pulls down her hood as she emerges from the darkness. "Drop it, Zemo," she spits, holding her finger on the trigger.
Zemo drops the small gun in his hands while Bucky steps away from Sam and I. "Sharon?"
I watch her walk up to Zemo, kicking the gun out of his reach, still holding her gun on all of us.
"Wait," Sam says, holding his hand up to try and deescalate. "Someone recreated the super soldier serum and Zemo had a lead." He stares back at us before turning back to his conversation with Sharon. I look to Bucky out of the corner of my eye, part of me wondering how they know this woman and the other part of me just wants to get out of here.
I look back at the pavement and close my eyes, letting all of the images flood my brain. She knew Steve Rogers and helped Bucky escape when Zemo bombed the UN. I purse my lips when I see something else, something I should probably tell Bucky and Sam.
Sharon is the Power Broker. She had the serum made. I look back up at her, she's not holding the gun on us anymore.
"I don't speak to my family anymore," she retorts to Sam. "I can't."
Join the club.
"Sharon we need your help," Bucky says, stepping next to Sam and I dart my eyes to him. She laughs at his request and I roll my eyes. "Please," he adds.
She sighs before turning her eyes back up to Sam and Bucky. "I have a place in High Town. You'll be safe there." Her eyes scan all of us and stop on me. "Who's she?" She gestures to me, making all of them turn to look at me.
I grit my teeth at the tone she used. "My name is Nadya," I say for what feels like the millionth time.
"She one of you?" She disregards me and looks back to the two men in front of Zemo and I. "Or is she just another fugitive who 'had a lead'?"
"She's one of us," Sam says, an edge in his tone. She nods and begins walking the way she came, leading us out of the alley way. I walk at a slow pace, holding up the rear as we walk with Bucky and Zemo in front of me.
"Bucky," I whisper, just loud enough to get his attention. He turns to look at me and I motion for him to come closer. "We can't trust her." I keep my eyes on the blonde woman chatting with Sam a few feet in front of us.
"What do you mean?" He asks, giving me a quizzical look.
I let out a long sigh, crossing my arms over my chest as we walk. "I mean, we can't trust her," I mutter, looking over to him with narrow eyes.
"Why?" He shakes his head slightly, conveying his confusion.
I purse my lips, telling them would only further complicate this situation. Seeing as they view her as a friend, they would just go and ask her if it's the truth which she would promptly deny. I inhale the cool air, trying to clear my mind of the hateful thoughts I heard from her and focus on the conversation at hand. "Trust me when I say that we can't trust her," I plead. His face doesn't show any sign of understanding but he nods anyway, taking my words under consideration.
✪ ✪ ✪ ✪
After a grueling twenty-five minute car ride squished between Zemo and Bucky, we finally come to Sharon's house in High Town. I take Bucky's hand, helping me get out of the car, and stare at the house in front of me. I thought Sharon had said that she had been on the run but if she's trying to hide why would she have such an extravagant house? With two men guarding the entrance gates to the stone walkway feeding to the front door, I keep my mouth from falling agape.
I swear, I spend one week with the Avengers and I've seen more wealth than I have my entire twenty-two years of life. Sharon leads us into the improvident home and I find myself even more astonished by the inside than the outside. Lined with LED light strips, the foyer is lit up in a blue hue. The floors are polished marble, making the clicking of my heels that much more evident.
"Looks like breaking all those laws is treating you well," Sam jeers, translating all of our thoughts to words.
"I thought if I had to hustle, might as well enjoy the life of a real hustler," Sharon brags, gesturing to the room around her.
I lose myself in the artwork displayed around the room, not listening to the rest of their conversation. My pace slows as I marvel at the world-famous paintings displayed under the LEDs, making them glow.
"Keep up with the tour, Nadya," Bucky's scruff voice breaths in my ear. My arms break out in goosebumps and I'm knocked back into the present, picking up my pace to match Sam and Sharon's.
"You guys need to change. I'm hosting clients in an hour," Sharon's voice echoes around the gallery.
Up in the spacial apartment above the gallery, Sam and Bucky change out of their clothes and I opt to stay in my dress. I sit cross-legged in a fabric pleated chair across from Bucky seated on a yellow upholstered couch. I eye him for a moment, he's in all black attire yet again, but a blazer and black undershirt.
I ignore the conversation going on between Sharon and Sam, the bickering back and forth about being a hero. Something tells me there's an alternate meaning behind their words, but I keep my mind at bay. Not wanting to invade Sam's privacy. Bucky and I sit in silence until Sharon brings up Captain John Walker.
"Don't even get me started," Bucky grumbles. He folds his hands over his lap and intertwines his fingers in the leather gloves covering his hands.
Sharon scoffs at Bucky's statement. "Please. You buy into all that starts and stripes bullshit," she says as she walks around the curved couch, taking a seat close to Bucky's side. "Before you were Zemo's pet psychopath, you were Mr. America! Cap's best friend." She smiles at him and rests her arm over the head of the couch behind him.
I roll my eyes and turn towards the windows, seeing High Town isn't as alive as Low Town was, although much safer, it seems boring.
"She's kind of awful now," Bucky says in a flat tone, looking towards Sam.
Sam begins to explain the super soldier serum situation I've heard so many times now, I block it out. Especially Sharon saying we should stay out of the situation for our own safety. I scoff, a tiny noise but it seems to get everyone's attention.
"How'd you get wrapped up with these two?" Sharon asks me, gesturing to Sam and Bucky.
I knot my fingers together on my lap, not knowing whether I should divulge the disturbing past I have with Bucky. "I uh-"
"I recruited her," Sam interrupts me as he takes off the heeled boots he was wearing, changing into slim dress shoes. "I found her files from when Shield wanted her on the team."
I glance at Sam, silently thanking him for chiming in and he nods at me. I smile at Sharon, forcing a friendly mood.
"We have a name, Wilfred Nagel," Bucky says, changing the topic.
Sharon eyes him for a moment before standing from the couch, walking to the wet bar sitting in the middle of the room. "Nagel works for the Power Broker."
You mean he works for you.
"You help us out, I'll get your name cleared," Sam declares, extending his hand out to her which she takes hesitantly. I narrow my eyes at the exchange, of course she's going to know where Nagel is if he's working for her.
"Lay low, blend in. Enjoy the party!" She says as she exits the room.
I turn to Sam with a dumfounded look on my face. "Another party scene, great."
Fantastic.
I stand from the chair, smoothing out the material of the dress. Bucky stands with me, giving me a reassuring nod before jerking his head towards the door leading down to the gallery.
I walk with them with my arms crossed over my chest. "If I had known this was an overnight mission, I would've actually slept last night," I mumble as we walk down the spiral staircase.
My eyes widen as we come down into the gallery, it's already crowded with a sea of people dancing to upbeat music and holding drinks in their hands. I spot a bar seated in the middle of the crowd and break off from the herd, feeling a drink would most likely aid in getting me through this night.
"Shot of tequila," I shout over the music and the bartender nods his head. "But keep them coming, please!" I add over the booming music. I down the first shot, feeling the burn soothing the annoyance knocking on my brain.
"Is that a good idea?" Someone yells next to me and I turn to see Bucky standing at the bar next to me. I roll my eyes and down the next shot, already feeling the alcohol swimming in my head. "Okay, I'll answer; it's not a good idea!"
I set down the shot glass and gesture for it to be filled again. "Why wouldn't it be?"
"Because you're working," he says in a lower voice as he scoots closer to me.
I look around the gallery swimming with people, grinding together to the music. "It's a party!" I smile at him, feeling warm inside after the third shot. "I'm blending in, aren't I?" I snatch the shot glass off of the bar and hold it over my head as I maneuver my way through the crowd, the idea of dancing now overpowering any thought in my head.
✪ ✪ ✪ ✪
The loud bass of the music swims in my head, creating its own rhythm to swing my hips to. Maybe the party idea wasn't so bad, I'm certainly feeling better now that I'm in the middle of it. It's quite enjoyable actually. I run my hands through my hair, feeling overheated in the crowd of bodies doing the same thing I am.
For the first time in my life, I feel weightless although, maybe the tequila dancing in my blood has something to do with that. A hand grabs my hip, preventing me from moving with the music and I spin around, feeling my weightless high begin to melt away.
"Calm down, just me," Bucky yells over the music and I see my eyes glowing a bright cerulean reflecting off of his own.
I blink a few times, feeling the adrenaline calm down. "What are you doing?" I ask, a slur finding it's way into my voice.
His grip hasn't faltered, making us the only two in the room not swaying to the music. "You're drunk, great," he huffs.
"I am not drunk!" I exclaim, defending myself. I stumble a bit in the heels, making his grip tighten on me. "Sorry, if me having fun is difficult for you," I tease him.
"Okay, come on." He tries to pry me from my spot but I keep my feet glued to the ground.
I throw my hands over his shoulders, pulling him closer to me. "No! Let's dance, come on. Let loose!" I begin swaying to the music again, tossing my head backwards while my hands snake into his hair. Pulling on the soft brown locks a bit tugging him towards me. He relinquishes his cold exterior for a moment, just a fraction of a moment before pulling away from me.
"Now, I know you're really drunk," he states observantly and halts my movements, making me pout my lip. I squeal when the hand on my hip snakes around my legs, throwing me over his shoulder. I groan as I punch at his back, feeling nothing but hard muscle hit my fists.
I giggle as he carries me away from the crowd.
Now I see why they call him America's Asset.
Cold air hits the back of my neck, making me shiver as he swings me back down onto my feet, holding the inside of my arm when I stumble.
"You're such a party pooper," I pout.
He rolls his eyes, an amused expression splaying over his features. "Nadya, you're drunk. Get some air and then I'm taking you upstairs to sleep it off." His voice is dominant, making me raise my eyebrows to mock him.
"Ooh," I wave my hands around. "Big bad Зимний Солдат, I better do what I'm told or else! He's reformed now but watch out! He can slip through the cracks pretty easily!" I laugh at my words, finding myself quite hilarious.
**"...Winter Soldier,"**
His eyes fall shut, clearly annoyed with my drunken acts. "Let me know when you're ready to go upstairs and we'll go."
I huff out a breath of irritation. "You've clearly gotten more comfortable with me, I wonder why Зимний Солдат," I whisper.
**"...Winter Soldier,"**
"Nadya..." he says in a warning voice.
I giggle at how wound up he's getting. "I'm not a child, you don't need to treat me like one," I slur.
"Why can't we trust Sharon?" He asks, cocking a brow at me with a smirk crawling up his plump lips.
I almost let the secret slip. But, instead, I pout my lip at him. "Not that easy, Winter Soldier." I shoot him a cheeky grin, outsmarting his question.
"Don't call me that," he warns in a low tone.
"Why not? Would you rather me call you Bucky? Or James? There's too many names I have for you, they all get muddled in my brain," I mumble, trying to form a coherent thought. He opens his mouth to respond but I continue. "You know, you're a really confusing person. I can't tell whether you trust me or not." His brows pull together and I run a hand over my forehead, combing my hair back through my fingers.
"Why do you even care? Is it-is it because you feel bad for me? Is that what this is?"
He shakes his head, the strobe lights from inside bending around his face. "I may have a lot of guilt on my conscious but this isn't that." His lips purse into a hard line, showing me this isn't a topic I should press onto him.
I chew on my lip and look down at my shoes. "Okay, fine. Fine! Let's just go back." I take a step towards the door but a sharp gasp rips from my lips when I'm yanked back by Bucky's grip on my arm. My breath hitches slightly as he pulls me to face him again. I feel my cheeks flush, all the warmth in my body slipping away under his icy stare.
His eyes glance down my face before finding their way back up to my eyes again. "I trust you," he states simply.
I let my breath out, a fluttering feeling flying into my abdomen at his words. I place my hand on his cheek again, running my fingers against the subtle facial hair he has and his eyes flutter shut. Never in my life did I think I'd be this close in proximity with this man with no anger, no rage flowing through me at his past actions. If anything, I feel calm, safe even.
"Everything okay?" My eyes blast open to find Sam stepping out onto the balcony and Bucky and I part from each other. He eyes the two of us suspiciously. "You've been out here a while, just thought I'd make sure you weren't trying to kill him again." He gives me a smile and sips on the drink he has in his hand.
Bucky doesn't turn to face him so I nod. "Everything's fine. I just had a little too much to drink," I mumble, embarrassed.
"I'm gonna take her back upstairs," Bucky says over his shoulder to Sam. "I'll be back down soon." His eyes dart to mine and I look away, ready for this night to finally be over. "Come on." Bucky jerks his head to the sliding glass door and lays his hand on the small of my back. I smile at Sam as Bucky guides me through the door.
Following that sobering event, the music and lights seem much louder and brighter than before. I squint my eyes as we walk through the crowd and Bucky keeps a tight hold on me, making sure I won't escape his grip. Dizziness begins to cloud my brain as we walk up the spiral staircase one step at a time.
"You okay?" He stops and makes me turn to him, grabbing my cheek and observing my face. His metal hand strokes my cheek for a moment and his eyes soften.
Surprised my his actions, I blink a few times before nodding my head. "I'm fine," I breathe, our pause from walking up in circles seemed to cease the merry-go-round feeling in my head.
As we reach the luxurious apartment above the gallery, I feel as if I could collapse. But, Bucky's strong hand on my back seems to keep me afloat as he guides me to the curved couch sitting in the middle of the room. "I don't have any clothes to change into," I mumble, finally feeling the uncomfortable material of the dress scratching against my skin.
He chuckles, showing his perfectly white teeth, a contrast to the dark facial hair surrounding his mouth. He sits on the coffee table across from the couch, eyeing me for a moment. "Can you do that thing when you're drunk?" He asks, referring to my ability to teleport.
I shrug. "I don't know, I've never been drunk before." I lean over the couch to grab hold of the heels that have tormented me all night when Bucky grabs my arm again and I shoot up. "I just wanted to take off my shoes," I giggle at his concerned face. He let's go of my arm and I continue unstrapping the heels from my aching feet. I sigh at the feeling as I kick them onto the ground. I give Bucky a sly look. "I'm gonna try it, though," I say with a smirk.
"Try what?" His brows pull together but he connects the dots quick. "No, Nadya, don't!"
I giggle and shut my eyes and feel a frigid breeze blow forcefully across my face, whipping my hair in all sorts of directions. I open my eyes and feel my blood turn to ice under my skin. Trees tower above me with snow falling through the leaves. I scan my surroundings with slow eyes, confused on how I got back here.
I begin to walk barefoot through the snow, feeling like needles are piercing my feet and definitely ruining the fabric of the dress following behind me. Adrenaline floods my brain when I hear footsteps coming from all around me, making me freeze in my place in the snow. I force my eyes up, finding mysterious men wearing some kind of uniform surrounding me in a circle. I grit my teeth when I realize they're armed, holding all of their weapons trained on my face.
"Where is sergeant Barnes?" One of the men asks in a thick accent I can't identify. A trembling breath escapes me and I feel all the color drain from my face.
I shake my head, not knowing which one had spoken. "I don't know who that is," I lie.
"But, you do know The Winter Soldier. Right? Nadya Ivanov." I shiver at them using my name, my full name at that.
I shake my head again. "I don't know what you're talking about." My breath comes out in clouds in the freezing weather.
"Take her!" One of the men shout, making me whip my head around, seeing them close in on me.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to picture Zemo's plane in my drunken mind. The men's voices fade from my ears, yelling for someone to stop me. I fall to my knees on solid ground and scan around me immediately. Finding the leather seats and couches, polished wood interior, I let out a breath of relief at my correct destination.
I stumble over to the couch and grab my bag, hugging it close to my chest and closing my eyes again. I grunt when my feet hit the ground, making me fall to my hands and knees.
"Jesus, Nadya!" A friendly voice I can only identify as Bucky's says. "Are you okay?" He rushes over to me and I finally open my eyes. He hauls me up by my arms and I try to hide the shivers running through me.
I smile at him through the terror wrapping around my head. I hold up the duffel bag. "I got it," I brag.
He snatches it from me. "Sit down," he demands and I follow, sitting back down on the couch. I watch as he searches through the bag, pulling a pair of my sweatpants out of it. He looks up to me with disappointment written on his face. "You didn't pack any other clothes but sweatpants, jeans and a sweater?"
I shrug and hold back a grin. "I must have forgotten a few things," I say and a giggle slips past my lips.
He lets out a dramatic sigh and tosses the sweatpants over to me. I pull them on under the dress and furrow my brows when I see he's disappeared from the room. "Here," he says, startling me as he walks back into the room, a t-shirt draped over his arm. "Wear this."
I take it from him and recognize it from our night in the kitchen. The dark navy t-shirt he wore with his grey sweatpants. "Thank you," I mutter, not looking up from the shirt. I turn around and purse my lips, knowing I can't do this myself in my state. "Can uh-Can you help me unzip?" I mumble, hoping he could hear it. My question is answered by the sound of a zipper sliding down and the material falling down my shoulders.
His fingers linger for a second on my back, leaving goosebumps in their wake. When I feel his fingers leave my back, I let the dress pool at my feet, leaving me in nothing but sweatpants. I pull the t-shirt on, taking in the smell of his cologne. It smells of sandalwood and leather, with hints of spice.
I turn back around to find Bucky with his back facing me, I clear my throat. "All clear," I chuckle. He turns back around and his eyes widen for just a moment before going back to normal. I bite the inside of my cheek and sit back down on the couch, feeling his eyes follow me as I do.
"Here," he says, snapping back into action as he drapes the blanket that sat on the back of the couch over my body. "Sleep it off, we'll all be downstairs if you need us." He smiles at me as I lie down, getting comfortable on the expensive couch.
I reach out and grab his arm and he looks at me with eyes filled with alert. "Could you- could you stay until I fall asleep?" I ask, feeling my cheeks redden under his stare.
The muscle in his jaw tightens as he looks from me to the door, deliberating on whether he should stay or not. Eventually, what feels like an eternity later, his eyes soften and he looks down at me. He nods and sits back down on the coffee table. "Sure."
I smile at him and close my eyes, feeling the heavy fatigue now take hold of my body. Even though Bucky may be the cause of my nightmares, I have a feeling he's the only one who can keep them away. "I don't think you're broken," I mumble sleepily with my eyes closed.
✪ ✪ ✪ ✪
•hi, everyone! sorry for such a long chapter, it's hard to condense what happens in the show and what I want to happen in the book! hope this chapter was good and enjoyable! Happy Friday!•