Somewhere over the Atlantic
Spring 2015
"I didn't think it was something you needed to know. I didn't think it was important," she said quietly "and—and it wasn't a risk I was willing to take." Steve's gaze shot up to her, his brow furrowing, the pained bewilderment flickering in the Captain's eyes cutting painfully at her before he seemed to forcibly retrain his reaction. From her place roughly between then, Natasha's gaze fixed intently on Rogers.
"Steve," she said quietly, the redhead's tone calming yet cautioning. Nadine's gut churned again even as irritation was suddenly striving to drive away her discomfort. The sense that she was missing something—something important that both Natasha and Rogers knew—niggled at her. It couldn't be something so simple as a grudge left over from what happened in Washington, could it? It was one of the theories she'd been developing since Sokovia, once she'd been able to start thinking rationally on the subject again and the one she logically favoured. Her instincts said no, but rationally she couldn't dismiss the idea. When else would he have interacted with the Winter Soldier but then? She was fairly certain she had worked out exactly when the Winter Soldier had been unfrozen and active over the last fifty years —possibly even sixty, though she was less confident in that—and D.C. was the only time he'd been awake since Rogers had been pulled from the ice. And she was fairly sure the Winter Soldier wasn't active during the War when the Captain had been. So Washington was the logical link. It still didn't quite fit, though. And more frustrating still, it felt like the answer was staring her in the face.
But she just couldn't seem to figure it out. It left her feeling supremely uneasy and even more off-balance. And when Nadine felt off-balance she got defensive. Not that the lingering stress and fear of the last several days was helping there.
"I didn't expect to be working with all of you for longer than one mission to take Strucker's base," she snapped coolly. "I didn't expect it would matter! All I wanted was to get my daughter back, Rogers. In exchange for your help, I gave you Strucker. That was the arrangement. I didn't owe you any more than that. So no, I didn't volunteer it. Why would I?" Next to her Natasha flinched while Steve hesitated, though whether from her tone or her words she couldn't be sure. But his attention on her didn't waver.
"You didn't think we deserved to know why Strucker wanted Nina?" He asked calmly. Nadine paled. What did he mean by that? Did he know? Her pulse thrummed anxiously. But he either didn't notice her reaction or he ignored it. He just continued on undeterred, though, if anything, his tone softened, sounding almost sad. That alone was bewildering. "You didn't think we might deserve to know that? That we might even need to?" She bristled then, her self-control faltering the in the face of her growing panic.
"It was my business and mine alone, Rogers. Not yours. I don't owe you all my secrets or even an explanation just because we worked together. I don't owe you anything! It is none of your business how I choose to protect my daughter! She was taken because someone spilled the secrets I kept from all of you!" As soon as the words spilled from her mouth her jaw snapped shut, angry tears springing traitorously to her eyes. But she forced them away, refusing to drop Steve's unreadable gaze.
What good would they do, anyway?
"He was my secret," she continued, fighting the way her voice threatened to tremble as she steered the topic back to his question and away from Nina. "It's a secret I've done everything to protect ever since I left that place, the place where I was trained, where I knew him. It was my penance, to live with what happened."
Steve's gaze dropped, frustration lighting in his eyes even as they slid shut. His hand rose to pinch at the bridge of his nose. He was trying to keep himself calm, she realized, trying to keep his temper in check.
But she couldn't quite understand why he had to try so hard in the first place. Back on the Quinjet she could rationalize it; it had caught him off-guard. And compounded with the fact that it was the Winter Soldier? But even then, now that she'd had time to think over his reaction since, it still felt too...extreme. There were potential explanations, to be sure—her musings about D.C. one of several she'd been considering—but without knowing more about his past, she couldn't attribute his behaviour conclusively to any of them.
But even now that he'd had further time to process it? She might not know him as well as Natasha did, but she felt she'd gotten to know him well enough to know that he was usually in far better control of himself. He was usually far better at looking past his personal feelings; she'd seen it first hand after Ultron had fled the Avenger's Tower. The Captain had been furious with Stark, but he'd managed to keep his cool and keep his focus on what needed to be done. But then...this wasn't fury or even wholly anger, anymore a small part of her insisted.
Personal. It was personal now where it hadn't been with Ultron.
Now? She glanced to Natasha. The feeling that she was missing something strengthened. Natasha didn't seem at all surprised by her teammate's continued odd reaction. Uneasy, certainly. Worried? Yes, that too, but not in a way that spoke to his reaction being unexplained. Nadine had the distinct impression that her little sister knew far more than she was letting on; she knew why this was unaccountably personal for the Captain.
It was the only explanation Nadine had. It was somehow personal for him. The question was how? She doubted that had much to do with her fledgling friendship with the Captain, though it probably contributed; they hadn't grown close enough for him to feel betrayed enough by her past association with the Winter Soldier for this strong a reaction based on that alone. It wasn't that Natasha had kept it from him; if anything he seemed to trust her more than ever. Was it that the Winter Soldier a personal enemy? Was it more than just that the Winter Soldier had eluded capture in Washington? Had he killed someone close to the Captain, maybe? Perhaps it was lingering enmity from Fury's supposed assassination. But that didn't feel right either. Especially not since she now knew Fury was still alive and that it had been obvious that Rogers and Natasha had known for a while before he'd walked into the Barton house. Still, it stood to reason that whatever it was it was somehow linked to what had gone down in D.C. the previous year when S.H.I.E.L.D. had fallen.
But then the thought struck her that perhaps it wasn't enmity for the Winter Soldier at the heart of Rogers reaction. Perhaps, in going head to head against him in Washington, Rogers had learned just how powerless over his own mind the Winter Soldier had been as Nadine had realized in the Red Room. Maybe he already knew the Winter Soldier wasn't a true villain but a victim. It would change how he would have viewed her link to him; not co-conspirators as she'd begun to assume Rogers viewed them based on his obvious feelings of betrayal.
Another piece clicked into place.
When Rogers had learned about what she'd done with the Winter Soldier all those years before? It would mean that he'd automatically seen him as her victim rather than her ally. And given how personal she'd concluded his reaction was to finding out what had happened between her and the Winter Soldier? She suddenly felt sick.
It led to the conclusion that his reaction was linked to something in his past. A friend that had suffered a similar violation? A family member, perhaps? Perhaps seeing that awful video had even evoked something he, himself had experienced? Her heart ached at the thought and her stomach churned violently. But she pushed it aside. She needed to think without emotions getting in the way!
But that was far easier said than done, just now.
"Do you regret it?" Steve looked up to her again, snapping her from her thoughts. His voice was soft as too many emotions flickered too quickly across his face for Nadine to decipher. "Do you regret what happened with him?" Natasha looked to Nadine in alarm before she turned to Steve, her expression crumpling with exasperation. But she didn't have a chance to admonish him the way she was obviously preparing to. A bitter, humourless laugh burst out of Nadine followed by a spill of word she couldn't quite contain.
"Regret it? How could I not! You think I don't hate myself for what happened?! Even after all the horrible things I've done?! The killing? The torture? The stealing, the spying, the lying? I've had to learn to live with what I was made into. I've never known anything else, so what other choice did I have. It's what I know how to do and I do it well. I've killed. I've lied, stolen, tortured. I live with it because I have to, because I was raised to accept that that was who I was, that it was all I was good for." An inadvertent, upset sound came from Natasha, the redhead trying to break in, to calm Nadine. But it wasn't enough to halt the stream of words. Her hand fisted at her sides, her nails digging sharply into her palms as her head began to shake. Though whether it was out of some misguided sense of denial or simply another expression of her vehemence, even she wasn't quite sure.
"But what happened with him? It's one thing I can't forgive myself for. Never!" It just exploded out, all her pent up rage, pain, resentment and regret at what had happened all those years before. But then the fire dimmed, leaving her simply tired and heartsick, not even caring that furious, guilt-ridden tears were beginning to spill down her cheeks. "What makes it all the worse is knowing that somehow I ended up with the most extraordinary gift...and he...and then I couldn't even..."
She'd never lost control so spectacularly before.
Save when she'd believed Nina was gone.
A choked sob tore at her throat. Angrily she swiped the dampness from her cheeks, turning her back on both her little sister and the Captain. With an extreme force of will she wrestled her emotions back under control—as best as she was able, at least—hating how out of control, how pathetic and fragile she felt. How could she let herself lose it like that! She was better than that. She'd been trained to be stronger!
"Nadya?" She nearly broke again at her sister's soft, worried murmur. But she forced the feeling aside, turning as she did back to Steve and Natasha. She fought to keep her features neutral, her mask back in place at the dampness glimmering in her sister's sad eyes.
But that was nothing to what she saw in the Captain's face.
Shock. Comprehension. Shame. Pain. Remorse. Sympathy.
Pity.
She was suddenly berating herself for her outburst even more fervently.
She didn't want pity. An anxious tremor thrummed in her chest.
"It's why Strucker wanted Nina," she blurted out, desperately hating the way the Captain was looking at her. Like it wasn't her fault. He shifted, a flicker of something she couldn't quite read shadowing his features. His gaze dropped from hers. The tremoring in her chest intensified, forcing yet more unbidden words to rush past her lips. Only this time, instead of sounding distraught and impassioned, she just sounded sad and defeated.
"It was all to protect her." Inadvertently she was turning to look out of the glass-enclosed office to her daughter. Nina was still lost to her over-exhausted sleep. She looked so peaceful. So innocent. It was hard to believe she'd just been through everything that had happened to her since Nadine had left on that fateful mission to Prague. "Everything I've done since I chose to run—every secret I've kept—it's all been to keep her safe. To keep her away from the life I live, the world that I'm a part of." She sighed. "But I suppose that was an impossible hope."
"Oh, Nadya," Natasha breathed. Nadine's arms once again crossed over her chest at her sister's soft voice, hugging herself tightly. The silence stretched, all three of them ultimately turning to look out at where Nina lay near the Maximoff Twins.
It was finally Steve who broke the silence, his tone soft, almost mournful, but still somehow astonished. It almost sounded like he was speaking to himself.
"So she is Bucky's."
Nadine frowned as she turned back to him, bewildered. "Bucky?" Rogers' eyes snapped to her, growing wide with disbelief. Natasha cleared her throat gently, eying Steve's reaction warily even as she broke in to explain to Nadine.
"James Buchanan Barnes. Also known as Bucky Barnes. You know him as the Winter Soldier." Nadine blanched, a cold prickle shivering across her skin.
"That's his name?" It was little more than a disbelieving whisper. She suddenly hated how vulnerable she sounded. Again.
But after all these years, she had a name. A real name.
"You didn't even know his name?" Steve's eyes had grown hard. Nadine tensed, a sudden welling of sorrow and renewed remorse mingling uncomfortably with the lingering emotions from her outburst.
"He was the Winter Soldier," she explained sadly, "That was his identity. As far as his handlers and our supervisors were concerned? He had no name beyond that. He had no identity. He wasn't even human to them anymore." Steve flinched, but the hard anger in his eyes didn't ease...not that it seemed entirely directed at her. Her stomach twisted with uncertainty at the realization. She didn't quite know what to make of it.
"And to you?" Nadine froze at his sharp, insisting question. She couldn't fight the sense that her answer now was perhaps the most important one she would give today. And she only had one answer to give. But that didn't stop the way her hands began to tremble where she had them pressed against her ribs.
"He was."
For a moment she was afraid she hadn't said it loud enough to be heard, her voice barely more than a pained murmur. Natasha and Steve simply stared at her; her sister with indescribable sympathy and approval visible in her familiar green eyes; Steve with an unreadable, thoughtful gaze. She forced a breath into her chest, her whole body suddenly aching with the weight of her emotions, her eyes beginning to prickle traitorously again. Nadine bit the inside of her lip, trying to recompose herself before continuing...before sharing the one precious memory she had of him that let her believe that, maybe, some of the man he'd once been survived inside the Winter Soldier. "If he wasn't, he wouldn't have let me escape that place."
Steve visibly started, his eyes wide again, this time with astonishment. Natasha turned to him, her gaze intent and sharp. Nadine's brow furrowed, the perplexing sense of missing something returning. Especially at the silent exchange passing between the two teammates; Natasha nodding slowly in confirmation to Steve's silent, imploring question. Steve's gaze lowered again, his arms dropping from where they'd been crossed over his chest to brace against the desk as he exhaled loudly through his nose.
"Yet you still took advantage of him," the Captain said, his reserved, even hollow tone nevertheless brooking no argument. Not that Nadine had any to give.
"I know. I have no excuse for that. And I've hated myself for it ever since." Steve glanced up to her, a mess of emotion shadowing his grim, veiled features.
"Did you care about him?" It was asked softly. For a split-, hopeful second Nadine thought she heard a trace of something breaking up the almost detached calm in Steve's voice—his anger breaking through? Accusation? Disappointment? Grief? More pity?—but as she looked up to him his gaze had lowered again to the floor at his feet, his face as blank as his voice save for the faintest crease between his brows. Nadine sighed before forcing the truth out.
"A little. I felt for him. They'd turned him into a shell, nearly a human machine. He was one of the most powerful and skilled fighters I've ever known, but only so long as he had a purpose. Without it, without orders, he was...blank...lost...confused. And the longer he was there, the more certain I was that there was...something, a glimmer of awareness starting to fight through; it was why my supervisor gave me that order; his handlers thought it might bring him back under control without more memory modifications...I—I couldn't help but feel for him." She hesitated, her thoughts struggling to put what she felt into words. Oddly enough, it didn't occur to her hold any of it back. The blank expression on the Captain's face broke, leaving only sorrow and heartache behind as she spoke.
"I regretted for him. I pitied him. I think I even sympathized a bit; we were both trapped in our own ways, him by his programming, me by the Red Room's training...but did I care for him? A little I suppose. I wanted to—to help him...there were times that I...I thought that, perhaps, that I could make it past the programming because of what we—what we were doing. Whenever we—whenever we were alone, he would seem to...I don't know, start to wake up...become almost aware again. But I—I don't know how much of that was wishful thinking."
"It wasn't just you, Nadya," Natasha broke in, pointedly meeting both Nadine's gaze and Steve's. "I noticed it too. We all did. There was something different about him the longer he was there. Whenever he went up against you." The redhead smiled gently at Nadine. "I even remember asking you about it once, to see if you'd noticed too, just to make sure I wasn't imagining it." A brittle smile tugged at Nadine's lips as she nodded, vaguely remembering that day. But quickly enough it faded. She glanced to Steve again. Though his expression had grown faintly pained, even conflicted, it was also thoughtful.
"I did come to care for him," she continued, "and I—well—I still care for him now. I care for him because he gave me my life. It's because of what happened between us that I ran, and because—it's because of him I made it out."
"Because he let you go? And—and because of Nina? You feel you owe him," Steve confirmed softly. She couldn't quite decipher the comment. But she nodded. There was no denying it anymore. There was no point. She sank back against the low cabinet sitting against the wall behind her, staring through the glass wall to her left, her eyes locked sightlessly on Nina.
"He gave me my daughter, Rogers. She's my reason for everything. She's why I left that place. Why I escaped. She's my second chance. I care for him because he gave me her. I won't regret that. I can't." Had she ever sounded so broken before? She'd certainly never felt so broken. A set of slender hands eased around her shoulders, another body settling next to her as Natasha sat next to Nadine.
She said nothing, and for that Nadine was grateful.
"Does he know?" A brittle, listless smile pulled at Nadine's lips.
"What do you think," she asked sadly. "Neither of us was exactly in a position to discuss it." She sighed heavily when the Captain tensed at her dejected comment. Natasha's hand chafed reassuringly against her shoulder. Absently, Nadine's hand rose to rest against her sister's, drawing strength from the contact. It helped her feel not quite so ...alone. Not quite so broken.
"I'm not proud of it," she said, looking over to Steve. "I'm not proud of the circumstances that resulted in my child's conception, Rogers. But I don't regret her. I never could and I never will. It's more that I regret how it happened. I don't care what you think of me, if you think I'm heartless or merciless or even without a conscience. But I'm not that heartless." Natasha leaned against Nadine, reaching out to take her hand in hers. Absently Nadine noted how warm Natasha's hands seemed, only to realize that it was because of how cold hers felt. She barely even realized she'd begun talking again until she heard her own voice.
"He—he let me feel something...he let me feel alive...to feel something that had nothing to do with death. With killing. It was...it was an escape. A way to forget where I was—what I was—for a few desperate moments. I never dreamed..." She hesitated, the tremor returning to her chest as she looked back to her daughter; it was guilt threaded with a wistful, sorrowing wish that things had been different. "If I could have told him? If—if I could've helped him? Actually helped him? I would have, Rogers. In a heartbeat." His gaze dropped to the floor again before sighing deeply. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him lifting his eyes to focus intently on her. The remorse written in his body language was almost tangible.
"Ryker, I—I'm sorr—" but she cut him off with a sharp look, her chest beginning to ache with the potent well of emotions that had taken up residence next to her heart, her head beginning to throb from the emotional stress of dredging up so much of what she'd fought to keep hidden away even from herself.
"I don't want apologies, Rogers," she said quietly, her voice once again cool and collected. "I made my bed." He didn't back down, though, his unreadable gaze once again heavy on her.
"That doesn't mean you deserved the things I said, the way I acted toward you," he insisted just as quietly, his own tone reserved but distinctly apologetic. Nadine sighed, trying to ignore the virulent little voice that scoffed at the claim. It didn't matter anymore. What was done was done. The whole truth was out and they could all move on now. She had Nina back and she was safe. Nadine could live with her demons and the consequences they brought with them. And she counted what had happened on the Quinjet as one such consequence. It was noble of Steve to offer an apology, more proof that he was a far better person than most. "You were right," he continued. "Your secrets were your own—are your own. I overreacted, and that was inexcusable."
"Please," she pulled away from Natasha, her voice firm as she fixed Steve with an insistent look of her own as she straightened. "It's okay, Steve. You don't have to do this." She grinned humourlessly then, drawing a frown to the Captain's face before she continued. "Had our positions been reversed? I probably would've killed you before you could even open your mouth to explain." A wry grin tugged at his lips. Though his expression was hard to decipher, his posture was beginning to relax. There was still a long way to go before the fragile trust that had been growing between them recovered, but it was a start.
"Honestly? I wouldn't doubt it," he said lightly back. Next to Nadine, Natasha stifled a soft chuckle, one that had Steve grinning over at his teammate. But then his expression grew solemn again as he looked back to where Nina lay on the other side of the glass, his thoughts obviously shifting back to where they'd been heading before she'd interrupted.
"So every lie? Every secret? It really was all to protect her, wasn't it. To protect Bucky's daughter." At the change in the way he said it, the bewildering sense that she'd missed some important detail returned in full force.
"What am I missing," she burst out impatiently, struggling to process what his tone, his body language, his features were telling her. Her mind raced over details—things he'd said, the way he'd said them, things Natasha had said, the glances they'd exchanged—everything she could remember to try and grasp the one, crucial bit of insight she knew she'd somehow overlooked. Her gut clenched painfully as the pieces suddenly fell into place, the only remaining explanation she could think of clicking perfectly. Nadine suddenly felt like she'd just run full tilt into a brick wall.
Her breath gusted painfully out of her chest, every drop of blood leeching from her face to form a jagged lump in her gut.
"You knew him...before..." A sad, nostalgic look crossed the Captain's face as he met her distressed gaze.
"We grew up together," he finally said, sounding like it took an enormous effort to get the words out. Her heart physically ached, her stomach churning. "He always looked out for me when we were kids—when we were young men too. He always had my back. He was also one of my Howling Commandos during the War. We believed him killed in action in early '45—he...he fell—another foot and I could've..." It was then his jaw clenched, his eyes clouding with a storm of emotions. It was painful to witness. It was a long moment before he was able to speak again, his grief and guilt turning to anger. "But it turns out HYDRA got their hands on him instead. Their experiments on him when he was a PoW in '43 helped him survive the fall. Once they had him they..." he drew in a deep, steadying breath, "...well, you know the rest, what they did to him. What they made him." A shuddering breath of her own shook free from Nadine. Dimly she was aware that her vision was beginning to blur. Her arms wound back around her torso, crossing tightly across her chest as though keeping herself from shaking apart, her hands fisting against her ribcage.
"There's nothing I can say," she finally all but whispered, unable to meet his gaze, "nothing that could possibly come close to an adequate apology for what—" her voice faltered, failing her. She swore she could feel his eyes boring into her.
"Nadine," he tried to interrupt, but she ignored the plea. She barely even registered that he'd spoken.
"I know it won't change anything, that it can't, but—but I am so—truly—sorry for what I did. I—I should have been—I should have refused—stopped...I should have been stronger. I was trained to be stronger." Her voice was wavering, the flood of emotions dredging all the guilt and remorse back up to overwhelm her again. She sank back to lean against the cabinet again, her forehead falling to her palm for a moment as she struggled to regain some small measure of composure.
"At the very least I should have told you." After a moment Steve sighed heavily. Her gaze edged toward him at the sound but she couldn't quite manage to meet his gaze.
"You didn't know," he finally said softly. She risked a glance up at the Captain. He looked so conflicted. Nadine physically hurt at the potency of the emotions written on his face, in the tension through his powerful body. "And...and it doesn't sound like you had much of a choice either." Nadine choked, her stomach lurching with alarm at what he was doing.
"No," she choked out, her voice little more than a pained gasp. "Please don't try to rationalize it. What was done to us in that place to make us what we are was horrific. But what I did to him? What I let myself do? How does that make me any better than them?" His expression grew even more pained at the plea.
"Nadine," Natasha broke in, her voice just as thick with emotion as Nadine and Steve's, her green eyes alarmingly bright. "He's not wrong." A small, dissenting sound huffed free from Nadine's throat, her tears spilling over. She viciously swiped them away, her head shaking. Oh, how she wanted to believe that. But she simply couldn't. She couldn't get past the image of his blank, uncomprehending features where it taunted her from the dark corner of her mind.
"Make it up to him." She looked up to Steve again, her emotionless mask and her control utterly shattered. She was an open book and they all knew it.
"I can't! There's nothing I could do that would—"
"Find him," Steve cut her of firmly. "Find him. And help him." He hesitated then, his features growing wary, "and tell him about his daughter."
"It won't be enough," she said softly. Steve fixed her with a firm, searching look.
"Maybe not. But I think the only one who can make that call is Bucky." Her jaw clenched, a bitter, sullen feeling threatening to overtake her. As much as she wanted to hope...
"You make it sound like finding him will be easy, Rogers." Much to her surprise, the Captain raised a wry, questioning brow at her, something suspiciously like amusement glimmering in his eyes. For a split-second shock overwhelmed her despair.
"Didn't you say once that you're one of the best in the world at tracking down those who don't want to be found?" Frowning, Nadine nodded in confirmation, though Steve's statement hadn't really required any such thing. She suspected she knew what Rogers was about to say next. The pressure in her chest inexplicably began to ease. "Then it stands to reason then that if anyone can track him down, it'd be you." Nadine inhaled deeply, a small, relieved smile coming to her face before she could help it, despite the healthy skepticism trying to keep her from getting her hopes up; she was good, but so was he. But that didn't stop the determination that was quickly growing to push her doubt aside. Perhaps the Captain was right. She would find him. And, perhaps, in finding him—Bucky Barnes—she might just have a chance at finding some manner of redemption, however small. All at once her mind was switching tracks, her training taking over to set the emotional upheaval of mere moments before aside to focus on the task suddenly laid before her.
"I've been looking for him for the past eighteen years," she said softly, earning a faintly startled look from both Steve and Natasha. A faint, amused grin teased at her lips at the reactions. "I got closest when S.H.I.E.L.D. fell—I was on the verge of catching a plane to intercept him at the Mexican border—but I was piggy-backing on the HYDRA agents following him...so obviously I lost him when HYDRA did; I suspect because he caught on that he was being followed. Since then the HYDRA teams that have been tasked with tracking him and bringing him in have been...uh...disappearing." Her eyes glinted with a dark sort of approval that was somehow both unnerving and comforting to the two Avengers. "But I know he's in Europe. If I'm allowed access to your resources? I'll find him." Satisfied, Steve grinned at her, nodding in approval.
"It's a start."
A/N: Thanks for Reading!
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