Retrograde▸bucky barnes

17. The Winter Soldier

He stalked toward her and Lena found herself staring at the Winter Soldier. With exception of the clear blue of his eyes, he was again the man who had tossed her off the overpass.

Bucky cornered Lena against a counter and instinctively Lena fought back, sending a jolt of electricity up his left arm. The strength he retained was unlike any other opponent she had faced and her body would not let her back down. A fear she did not know she had kept clawed its way into her throat.

When they had set up this part of the plan where the Winter Soldier would take her captive and use her as bargaining power, Lena had not considered the physicality of doing so. She had not considered she would have to engage in a fight with one of the few individuals who had nearly ended her.

Despite being smaller in stature she could match him quite well as long as he kept making moves that left his metal arm unprotected. After a few destroyed tables and terrified patrons scurrying out of the way, he finally gained an upper hand, slamming her down on the floor hard enough to easily have killed a normal human. Her breath completely knocked out of her and pinned beneath him another wave of uncontrollable fear washed over her.

Straddling her, Bucky leaned in, letting his shoulder drop to shield his face from onlookers.

"Lena, I know this is scary, but you have to let me win."

Hearing her name on his lips, the care in his voice, jolted her back to reality. It's pretend. It's all pretend. Just a show.

He let up just enough pressure to allow her to wedge herself out of his grasp momentarily and launch a convincing counter-attack before letting him overpower her. Realistically, a fight like this would never end so civilly, somebody would have ended up dead; there were no captives with people like her.

With a bruise Lena expected would blossom across her face by the next hour, she played her role quietly for the remainder of the conversation. Zemo looked perturbed that their fight had taken so long and been so high profile. He kept shooting them glances.

Lena guessed that to a passerby this was an odd scene indeed. She stood with her back to Bucky, his left arm locking her wrists together. His other hand held a knife to her throat while she did her best to look like a defeated foe.

In reality she was leaning on him, nearly all of her weight pressed into his chest. She knew he could feel her shaking like a leaf, and hear her unsteady breathing. She imagined the impassive look he had arranged his face into and focused on emulating her own version of the performance. The pinky finger of his metal arm rhythmically tapped on her palm, the same several beats again and again. She focused herself on it, trying to recall her Morse code. Nothing stirred in her memory, the repeated tapping just a point of calamity to focus on.

Bucky, perfectly fluent in Morse code, focused intently on the words he was tapping into her palm, the same ones that repeated over and over in his head.

"I love you, I love you, I love you."