Winter's Widow

Chapter 21

Natasha's pov:

I heard a scream come from the living room while I was on my computer, and rushed out the door.

I enter the living room to see Bucky trying to attack Tony with a knife, and Vision holding Bucky back.

"James!" I try to get the soldiers attention, and succeed. He's looking at me, and gave up trying to attack Tony.

"Give Steve the knife." I order, and he responds. He gives the knife to Steve, as I ordered. Tony is staring at him, petrified.

"I knew this would happen." I whine.

"What?" Tony looks confused as hell, almost angry at my statement.

Bucky walks up to me and I hug him. He hugs me back.

"Poor thing. It's ok. It was an accident." I try to calm Bucky.

"How is- What- Why are you supporting him?" Tony asks wide eyed.

"It was an accident, Tony." I tell him.

"He tried to kill me!" He shouts.

"You know that wasn't him, Tony." I correct him.

"Bucky, are you ok?" Steve asks.

I let go of him.

"Yeah." He sounded void of all emotion.

"What happened?" Steve asks, stern and confused.

"The Winter Soldier came for a visit. Sometimes when I see Tony, the Winter Soldier tells me to finish my mission. Couldn't ignore him this time." Bucky replies.

"That's settling." Tony comments with a face that says 'wtf'.

"Only with Tony?" Steve asks.

"No." Bucky responds after a pause.

"Who else." Steve asks again.

"...You, and Natasha." Bucky replies.

"Oh... We were all missions that the Winter Soldier failed." I add.

"That's why." Steve points at me.

"The urge to finish my mission is strongest with Tony." Bucky adds nonchalantly.

"That's even more settling." Tony says with the same expression.

"Good to know. New rule: Never leave Tony and Bucky alone together. We need to keep a closer eye on Buck now." Steve says.

"What about you and Natasha?" Tony asks.

"We should be safe, right Bucky?" Steve asks.

Bucky is staring at Tony with cold lifeless eyes.

"Buck?" Steve calls him back to us.

"Hm?" He responds.

"You wont attack me or Natasha, right?" Steve tries to get confirmation from Buck.

Bucky doesn't respond, only stares at Steve with steel eyes.

"No." He finally answers.

"That didn't sound very sure." Tony points out.

"Shut up Stark." Bucky snaps.

After a few more minutes of arguing about this, Bucky leaves for his room. On any normal day I'd follow, but I don't think that's a good idea today. I should probably leave him alone today.

I go back to my own room to continue what I was doing on my computer. About an hour passes and I feel the emptiness consuming me again. Soon, I'm void of all emotion. Depression has taken over my body again completely. For the fourth time this week, I want nothing more than to die. The vodka bottle on my desk is slowly losing fluid to my depressive state. I might be drunk, maybe not. I don't know or care anymore. I just want to feel something. I don't care if it's pain or sadness. It wont hurt as much as the nothing I feel right now. I wont be going out for dinner tonight. I'll probably be skipping breakfast tomorrow morning also. I just don't care enough to eat right now. Or do anything, really. I've hidden my depression very well, but I'm not sure if I can take it much longer. Bucky really helps me when he hangs out with me, even if he doesn't know it. He doesn't know about this side of me either. Nobody does, and it hurts. I really just want to die right now. When will it end? This is one of the reasons I'm so reckless on missions. I don't care if it kills me anymore. That's why I often agree to take the dangerous part of Steve's plans. I'm expendable. Bucky hates it when me and Steve do that. I don't care though. Death can't come soon enough for me. Yeah, I'm definitely drunk now.

I lay on my bed to take a nap, silently praying someone kills me in my sleep. I'm so tired I almost forgot the handcuffs. I didn't, though. I don't even bother taking off my shoes or using a blanket. I lock myself up and drift to sleep.

I open my eyes and see the Winter Soldier at my bedside again, His hand locked around my wrist.

"James...?" I call him, tired.

"Morning sunshine." He says pretty monotone.

"What time is it?" I ask.

"12:35" He answers, almost sounding annoyed.

I hate how he sounds annoyed and pissed off. I'm drunk, I have a headache, and I still cant feel anything.

"I'm sorry." I say tearing up. He must have hear the crack in my voice because he turns around to see me wiping my tears with my sleeve.

"For what?" He looks and sounds concerned.

"I know how you feel now... You don't. You don't feel anything." I whimper, not bothering with the tears rolling down my cheeks.

"What are you talking about? You're so drunk." He says.

"Why did you take off my cuffs again. You shouldn't be wasting your time with me." I can't stop crying now.

"I'm not wasting my time." He wipes my tears.

"Are you gonna kill me, James?" I ask through the tears, part of me hoping for a yes.

"...No. No, of course not. Why?" He asks not bothering to hide the concern.

"I... I don't know. I was just hoping..." I trail off at the answer.

"...I think you should sleep. You're drunk and tired." he tells me, wiping off more tears. He cups my cheek.

I look him in the eyes, and it's not cold, blue steel anymore. It's a soft silver, sprinkled with shiny blue flecks. His eyes shine in the moonlight. Something I don't think I've ever seen before. It's so nice. It's so calm. The screams I used to hear are still there, but they are nothing more than whispers. They never leave. They haunt him even at the most peaceful of times. I don't smell any gunpowder or ash. I don't taste any blood in my mouth. There is no orchestra of gunshots and metal clanking. I don't smell the death this man has on his hands. The soft screaming is still taunting me, but it's peaceful, how quiet it's gotten. I hear the whispering little secrets these eyes are showing me. They're telling me how death feels. Soft voices that speak of deaths cold grasp. His eyes can tell you what it's like to be a ghost. His metal arm is glistening in the moonlight shining from my window. He looks like a ghost.

I lay my head down on the pillow. I grab his left hand and put it on my wrist. He grabs it with ease, making me feel small. I put my hand over his metallic hand and try make his grip on my wrist tighter.

"Natalia, I'm not going to let you go." He whispers.

"Good."