IC Voicemail, Driftfleet:

[tothefly]

[There is no recording, just a few clicks and a beep.]

[Leave any IC voice messages or texts for Natasha here.]

Comments

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​​​​[ His first thoughts are for Nat, and Peggy. Both who'd given so much to SHIELD. (All right — not entirely true, his first thought is Oh, God.) Everything they fought for: it'll crumble to ash. It'll hit him later, when he's alone and he has time to be properly horrified, to choke on the tang of what's been done to the Winter Soldier, from the very beginning. For now, he soldiers on. ]

How do I stop this?

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[tothefly]

[She can tell what the news does, mostly; can guess where his thoughts are going. Maybe your world's different, part of her wants to say, but it doesn't seem to be different in any way that makes it better.]

[So she focuses instead on his question. On the futility of it, the idealism, the single pronoun. Shrugs, slightly, with her right shoulder, careful not to move her injured arm.]

We already did, back home. But the Soldier doesn't know that. He's from before. Just before the final op.

You've talked to him.

[It's a statement, not a question, but her need for information is evident, too anyone who knows a Romanoff of any flavor.]

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​​​​[ There is only one kind of inevitability he accepts, and that's the possibility of death. Not failure. Failure is unacceptable. It's a quality he shares with his counterpart — although where HYDRA punishes the other Bucky this one is more than capable of carrying out the sentence himself. He drove a plane right into the water, and when he woke up, lived in an empty house, haunting it, for well over a year. ]

​​​​[ He responds to her veiled request as though it weren't so veiled, deciding not to push on the fact that she hasn't told him what to do about this Insight thing. ]

Yes. I intend to convince him to accept me as a handler until he can think for himself.

​​​​[ He scrubs his hand down his face. ]

After they woke me up, I was lost without orders. I broke everything I touched. I won't put him through that. [ soft, ] And we can't let him carry out this mission. We have to convince him it's wrong.

​​​​[ He'd said his target was Captain America, not Steve specifically. Well there's one Captain America here. He keeps the card up his sleeve. Natasha doesn't need to know this. ]

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[tothefly]

[If he wants to hear about Insight, she'll tell him about Insight. Not that it'll do him much good. From what she's heard, they probably won't remember anything when they head home, anyway. If they ever get home. But it's a conversation that costs her nothing to have.]

[Right now, the Soldier is the more immediate issue. He's going to play handler for another universe's version of himself? She suppose it's worth a shot. If they really are so much like their counterparts, who better to find out if there's anything remaining of the man he used to be? Who better to keep him in check? Aside from the obvious.]

You could always try concussing him.

[It's only half one of those dry, unfunny jokes she so often makes. Half of it's serious. It worked for Clint, when he was brainwashed. There's a pause, and a follow-up statement, something a touch more restrained in her voice. Something that's almost wistful, if a woman like her ever did wistful.]

Last time, it took Steve.

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​​​​[ It's a survival mechanism. If he's not the man for the job he'll simply make himself into one. Work longer shifts. Pull more weight. Punch harder. The most efficient route he can see is making a structure for the Winter Soldier and giving him definition until he understands what it is and can do it for himself. Everything Sam Wilson gave him, he intends to pay forward. ]

​​​​[ But dismay clouds his expression when she mentions Steve, and the loss melds in with it turning the colour grey and desolate. The one person he can't ever be like, only mimic, and not successfully or for long. ]

I'll try.

​​​​[ I owe him that. ]

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[tothefly]

[It's a behavior she recognizes, if only because it's something the three of them share. And that sorrow she sees roll across his face she recognizes because it mirrors something of her own. She'd grown to count on Steve, the last few years. To keep being immutable, unchangeable. He was the standard, the rock, the milestone, and not because she put him on a pedestal. He was just a man, but very possibly the only Good Man she'd ever known.]

Don't try to be him.

[You can't be, the words imply, but also you shouldn't. The Soldier doesn't need that, not here from a man that wasn't Steve. For once, he could use something resembling honesty.

If he didn't come after her, first.]

I won't make promises about the future.

[Slightly abrupt, but he knows what she's saying, and why. If it becomes necessary. Black Widow has always been good at doing what's necessary.]

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I thought you might say that.

​​​​[ Whether he means her first statement or the second, he leaves that ambiguous. Nat said it often, he didn't owe Steve carrying on with Captain America. He didn't have to fight anymore if he didn't want to — but war was all he knew. His fingers curl inwards, slightly, and he looks at her, wearily. ]

Do what you must. ​​​​[ soft, ] Death is sometimes a kindness.

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[tothefly]

[Ambiguity is fine, familiar for both of them. Things have almost settled from their earlier flare-up, though there are words she won't forget. Like his last ones. The look she fixes him with is immediate, aware, focused.]

If I didn't know any better, I might be worried you'd go looking for trouble.

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​​​​[ He laughs. ]

Lucky me you do know better.

​​​​[ Troublemaker? Him? That's all Steve. Bucky's expression is briefly fond, and then creases out to his usual. ]

Hey, can I ask you something?

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[tothefly]

Mm.

[She doesn't look convinced, by that laugh or by his words. But then, she doesn't know him, not really, even though they've been slowly fixing that, little by little. Still doesn't know what's him and what's am act, what he's picked up from his Natasha, what's there from the Soldier. And the wariness doesn't go away at his question.]

Depends on the kind of answer you're expecting.

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​​​​[ It's a careful balancing act. He can't lie to someone who lies for a living, so he inhabits his duplicity of truths. Perform well enough, and the audience will clap. It's a magician's trick, and he thinks, maybe he has the whole world fooled, and Natasha can get front row seats to the show. ]

​​​​[ His eyes settle on her, concerned. ]

SHIELD. They turned out to be rotten. Are you okay?

​​​​[ She and Peggy — they gave everything. He might not know what that loss feels like precisely, but he knows the pain of losing your whole world in an instant. ]

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[tothefly]

[This again. Questions, caretaking. She doesn't bother to hide the brief flash of irritation on her face, since it's there and gone in a moment--and it serves as warning, as much as it does answer.]

I always land on my feet.

[She's always fine. Always got a backup plan. Always knows that any organization larger than three people is prone to corruption, to weakness. Fury wasn't part of the corruption, and that's enough for her--for her, the relevant power tree ended there.

And she was never really a part of it, to begin with. Always an outside agent. Always one foot out the door.]

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Okay, ​​​​[ he says, quietly, stepping back. This isn't his until it's earned, and the selfish thought that it might be nice to have a friend is just that: selfish. The fingers of his left hand twitch. ] that's — all, I guess.

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[tothefly]

[It would be nice to have a friend. Have just one person in this place she can count on, someone who recognizes who and what she is and doesn't think her a monster for it. But she hadn't earned that. Can't and won't just step into someone else's shoes.

I care about you.

She can't think about that, not now. Not about the fact that they were almost something like friends, or getting there. She doesn't have the luxury, right now. Has to be practical. Instead, she collects herself, puts the mask on, though there's something to her eyes that speaks to everything going on behind it.]

Captain.

[The briefest hesitation. An unspoken thank you, maybe.]

Let me know what happens with the Soldier.

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​​​​[ Only a guess as to the depth of it. The reassuring smile he wants to give her in return becomes a grimace. He straightens up, mirroring Steve's usual Cap posture. ]

I will.

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[tothefly]

[It's not a smile, not really, and that means she doesn't have to offer one in return. It'd be a lie, anyway, and she'd rather not lie to him. There have been no lies in what she's said already, not really. So instead, she acknowledges him with a flicker of her eyes, watches as he heads for the door. And just before he leaves:]

...Be careful.

[She may not need looking after, but she gets the feeling he might. That comment about death isn't sitting right.]

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​​​​[ He stops at the door, and half-turns to her. Speaking of things that don't sit right, this smile doesn't. It's crooked, like some dark shade has taken amusement and is dancing with it. ]

I'm always careful, Romanoff.

​​​​[ He shuts the door quietly behind him. ]