Fic: Time After Time
[A/N: I wrote this for the Yuletide ficathon this year. Now that authors have been revealed, I thought I'd post it on my Bucky journal.]
When the memories start to come back, they come back in Russian. The Soldier tells no one. He completes each assignment with more efficiency and ruthlessness than the last, and when they put him into stasis he dreams of baseball fields and hot dogs, and coaches who yell in Russian. Ice cream melts in his hands, and when his eyes open the dreams slip away.
The Soldier knows the passing of the years by the age of the man who wakes him. One man grows old and grey and is replaced by another. Each sleep brings with it more dreams, and each time the dreams last longer in the waking world, wrapping tendrils of American memories into his Russian mind. He says nothing.
One day, a man named Petrovitch comes to the Soldier and asks him for a favor. It’s strange to be asked. The Soldier is never asked, he is told. But Comrade Petrovitch asks him to train his protégé, and the Soldier thinks it may be a genuine request. So he says yes.
Comrade Romanova is beautiful and deadly. She learns quickly and hungers for more knowledge. The Soldier doesn’t know what drives her, but he knows better than to ask. She is a member of the Chyornaya vdova program, and though he may be the deadliest assassin in the world, even he knows the Black Widows are dangerous.
“You never speak, Comrade. You say little beyond instruction.” They have been training together for several years - by her time - when she says this to him. The Soldier looks at her for a long moment before he responds.
“You speak English. Why?”
She laughs, and a warm tingle moves the length of his spine. “Practice, maybe.” She shakes her head. “Nyet. I am better than they think at some things.”
He raises an eyebrow. English is meant to be learned, especially by the intelligence officers who might be asked to become sleeper agents. She must be talking about something else, but the Soldier knows better than to ask. Instead he answers her question, but in Russian. “There is little to be said beyond instruction.”
“I disagree.”
The Soldier shakes his head. “It is not your place to disagree, Comrade Romanova. It is your place to listen and learn, and become the best you can be for Mother Russia.”
Natalia nods, as if by rote. “Of course, Comrade Winter Soldier. My apologies.”
The next time he sees her it has been six months for her. He is still trying to shake the scent of apples and cinnamon from his nose: a dream of an autumn in a place he has never been to. They are not assigned to train. Her training is complete. Instead, they are both assigned a single target: the Black Widow to kill, the Winter Soldier to gauge her progress.
They work well together as a team. They are strong and fast, and slide through the shadows as though they were born there. He kills three guards while she distracts them and then he returns the favor. Their directive was to leave no witnesses, and no witnesses are left. When they reach the main objective, he waits in the shadows as she carries out the mission.
When she is done, she finds the Soldier and she kisses him. He’s so surprised that he doesn’t respond, just stands there for a moment, feeling her lips against his.
She pulls away, cheeks flushed. “Am I your first kiss, Comrade?”
“I...” He wants to tell her no. Or yes. He wants to have an answer, but he can’t think of one. “Don’t know.”
“I am better at some things than they think.” She sighs lightly, and runs her fingertips down his arm. Something crackles and then she looks back to him, smiling. “A malfunction caused in the fight. Now we are alone, Comrade. They haven’t told you who you are, but I know. James.”
The Soldier looks down at her, confused. The name seems familiar, but it doesn’t feel as though it belongs to him. “I don’t need to know who I am. I have a purpose, and that purpose is to my country and my comrades. Names are meaningless, Natalia.” He emphasizes her formal name, trying to convince her to leave the subject be.
But the Black Widow is stubborn. She smiles again. “Call me Natasha. And I shall call you Jascha, and we shall be lovers. What do you think of that, Winter Soldier?”
“I don’t know what to think.” The Soldier frowns and knits his brows together. “You are speaking English again.”
She pulls his real arm up to her face, making him cup her cheek. He can’t help but feel the smoothness of her skin ad the softness of her red hair at the edges of her temple. His hand makes her face seem tiny, almost delicate. “Now you kiss me. Please.”
The Winter Soldier is not used to being asked. He can’t remember if she is the first woman he’s ever kissed, but he knows enough not to care.
Their trysts continue. He is sure the Program must know about it, but they let them continue. The Winter Soldier does his duty for his country, and after each mission he becomes Jascha for a few precious hours, who is allowed to be tender and soft. He falls in love with the Black Widow, and she with him. Natasha doesn’t tell him anything else about himself, but he tells her about his dreams. She nods, as if she knew already, and then kisses him until he forgets all about them. Life seems as perfect as it can be.
And then, suddenly, he is woken up and taken into a room with a single, metal table. He is told that Natasha has defected, and that he is under suspicion. The Soldier is confused, but he does his best to remain above reproach. He is kept awake longer and his movements and behaviors are watched. Natasha doesn’t contact him, and he wouldn’t know where to contact her, even if he wanted to.
His heart is broken, but he is the Winter Soldier, and so he moves on by losing himself in the missions. But one day he is sent to America, and everything changes. The dreams have become visions of a past life he now knows was his. He hears the people call to him, in English, and he always calls back, with the voice of a boy that’s nearing manhood.
When he kills his target, Natasha steps from a corner and looks at him. “Natasha...” he whispers, and then everything goes black.
He wakes in a small room with no windows. Natasha is seated at the edge of the bed, her knees tucked under her chin. “Hello, Jascha. It’s been a long time.”
The distance between them feels like miles. “Da. You’ve been gone a long time.”
She laughs. As always, the sound makes him tingle. “Do you even know how long? How many times have they woken you up? The Soviet Union is losing the War, Comrade. The Red Skull controls you. You need to escape.”
“The Red...” He closes his eyes as he tries to grasp at memories. “I don’t know what you mean. But I miss you.”
“Oh, Jascha. You Americans and your romance. It’s there even when you forget who you are.” She leans forward and cups his cheek, and he remembers the first time they kissed. Heopens his eyes. “It’s why I love you, I guess.”
A sound comes from the table and her eyes flicker towards it. It’s a communicator. He raises his eyebrows questioningly, but she shrugs him off.
“You’ll go back, won’t you?”
The Soldier nods.
“Then let’s take the time we have.” She crawls towards him and he opens his arms - one real and one bionic - to her.
When he returns to Moscow several days later, they place him under psychiatric evaluation. But it’s too late. The damage has been done. When the Berlin wall falls, the Soldier thinks his program might end. It doesn’t, and he knows that everything Natasha told him is true.
So much happens by the time he becomes James Barnes again that he assumes Natasha would have moved on, or would want nothing to do with him. But she proves him wrong again. The only thing that makes wearing Steve’s shield easier is fighting with her by his side.
And at night, there is no Captain America and there is no Black Widow. It’s only Jascha and Natasha again, in each others’ arms, keeping each other warm against the cold of the outside world.
When the memories start to come back, they come back in Russian. The Soldier tells no one. He completes each assignment with more efficiency and ruthlessness than the last, and when they put him into stasis he dreams of baseball fields and hot dogs, and coaches who yell in Russian. Ice cream melts in his hands, and when his eyes open the dreams slip away.
The Soldier knows the passing of the years by the age of the man who wakes him. One man grows old and grey and is replaced by another. Each sleep brings with it more dreams, and each time the dreams last longer in the waking world, wrapping tendrils of American memories into his Russian mind. He says nothing.
One day, a man named Petrovitch comes to the Soldier and asks him for a favor. It’s strange to be asked. The Soldier is never asked, he is told. But Comrade Petrovitch asks him to train his protégé, and the Soldier thinks it may be a genuine request. So he says yes.
Comrade Romanova is beautiful and deadly. She learns quickly and hungers for more knowledge. The Soldier doesn’t know what drives her, but he knows better than to ask. She is a member of the Chyornaya vdova program, and though he may be the deadliest assassin in the world, even he knows the Black Widows are dangerous.
“You never speak, Comrade. You say little beyond instruction.” They have been training together for several years - by her time - when she says this to him. The Soldier looks at her for a long moment before he responds.
“You speak English. Why?”
She laughs, and a warm tingle moves the length of his spine. “Practice, maybe.” She shakes her head. “Nyet. I am better than they think at some things.”
He raises an eyebrow. English is meant to be learned, especially by the intelligence officers who might be asked to become sleeper agents. She must be talking about something else, but the Soldier knows better than to ask. Instead he answers her question, but in Russian. “There is little to be said beyond instruction.”
“I disagree.”
The Soldier shakes his head. “It is not your place to disagree, Comrade Romanova. It is your place to listen and learn, and become the best you can be for Mother Russia.”
Natalia nods, as if by rote. “Of course, Comrade Winter Soldier. My apologies.”
The next time he sees her it has been six months for her. He is still trying to shake the scent of apples and cinnamon from his nose: a dream of an autumn in a place he has never been to. They are not assigned to train. Her training is complete. Instead, they are both assigned a single target: the Black Widow to kill, the Winter Soldier to gauge her progress.
They work well together as a team. They are strong and fast, and slide through the shadows as though they were born there. He kills three guards while she distracts them and then he returns the favor. Their directive was to leave no witnesses, and no witnesses are left. When they reach the main objective, he waits in the shadows as she carries out the mission.
When she is done, she finds the Soldier and she kisses him. He’s so surprised that he doesn’t respond, just stands there for a moment, feeling her lips against his.
She pulls away, cheeks flushed. “Am I your first kiss, Comrade?”
“I...” He wants to tell her no. Or yes. He wants to have an answer, but he can’t think of one. “Don’t know.”
“I am better at some things than they think.” She sighs lightly, and runs her fingertips down his arm. Something crackles and then she looks back to him, smiling. “A malfunction caused in the fight. Now we are alone, Comrade. They haven’t told you who you are, but I know. James.”
The Soldier looks down at her, confused. The name seems familiar, but it doesn’t feel as though it belongs to him. “I don’t need to know who I am. I have a purpose, and that purpose is to my country and my comrades. Names are meaningless, Natalia.” He emphasizes her formal name, trying to convince her to leave the subject be.
But the Black Widow is stubborn. She smiles again. “Call me Natasha. And I shall call you Jascha, and we shall be lovers. What do you think of that, Winter Soldier?”
“I don’t know what to think.” The Soldier frowns and knits his brows together. “You are speaking English again.”
She pulls his real arm up to her face, making him cup her cheek. He can’t help but feel the smoothness of her skin ad the softness of her red hair at the edges of her temple. His hand makes her face seem tiny, almost delicate. “Now you kiss me. Please.”
The Winter Soldier is not used to being asked. He can’t remember if she is the first woman he’s ever kissed, but he knows enough not to care.
Their trysts continue. He is sure the Program must know about it, but they let them continue. The Winter Soldier does his duty for his country, and after each mission he becomes Jascha for a few precious hours, who is allowed to be tender and soft. He falls in love with the Black Widow, and she with him. Natasha doesn’t tell him anything else about himself, but he tells her about his dreams. She nods, as if she knew already, and then kisses him until he forgets all about them. Life seems as perfect as it can be.
And then, suddenly, he is woken up and taken into a room with a single, metal table. He is told that Natasha has defected, and that he is under suspicion. The Soldier is confused, but he does his best to remain above reproach. He is kept awake longer and his movements and behaviors are watched. Natasha doesn’t contact him, and he wouldn’t know where to contact her, even if he wanted to.
His heart is broken, but he is the Winter Soldier, and so he moves on by losing himself in the missions. But one day he is sent to America, and everything changes. The dreams have become visions of a past life he now knows was his. He hears the people call to him, in English, and he always calls back, with the voice of a boy that’s nearing manhood.
When he kills his target, Natasha steps from a corner and looks at him. “Natasha...” he whispers, and then everything goes black.
He wakes in a small room with no windows. Natasha is seated at the edge of the bed, her knees tucked under her chin. “Hello, Jascha. It’s been a long time.”
The distance between them feels like miles. “Da. You’ve been gone a long time.”
She laughs. As always, the sound makes him tingle. “Do you even know how long? How many times have they woken you up? The Soviet Union is losing the War, Comrade. The Red Skull controls you. You need to escape.”
“The Red...” He closes his eyes as he tries to grasp at memories. “I don’t know what you mean. But I miss you.”
“Oh, Jascha. You Americans and your romance. It’s there even when you forget who you are.” She leans forward and cups his cheek, and he remembers the first time they kissed. Heopens his eyes. “It’s why I love you, I guess.”
A sound comes from the table and her eyes flicker towards it. It’s a communicator. He raises his eyebrows questioningly, but she shrugs him off.
“You’ll go back, won’t you?”
The Soldier nods.
“Then let’s take the time we have.” She crawls towards him and he opens his arms - one real and one bionic - to her.
When he returns to Moscow several days later, they place him under psychiatric evaluation. But it’s too late. The damage has been done. When the Berlin wall falls, the Soldier thinks his program might end. It doesn’t, and he knows that everything Natasha told him is true.
So much happens by the time he becomes James Barnes again that he assumes Natasha would have moved on, or would want nothing to do with him. But she proves him wrong again. The only thing that makes wearing Steve’s shield easier is fighting with her by his side.
And at night, there is no Captain America and there is no Black Widow. It’s only Jascha and Natasha again, in each others’ arms, keeping each other warm against the cold of the outside world.