Inseparable
James Barnes was not stalking Steve Rogers.
He'd gone to great pains to keep Steve away. Going after an organization like HYDRA was a dangerous, ruthless business. That danger didn't phase James-after all, he was living on borrowed time. He should have died seven decades earlier, when he fell from that train in the Alps. If he had, then dozens of men and women would not have died at his hands.
He wasn't someone who dwelled on the past. So far as he could remember and determine, he never had been. That was little comfort when the faces and names came to him in the middle of the night, but he was familiar with the concept of penance. If spending every night suffering at the hands of his victims was his, he would endure it.
He deserved much worse.
But, if there was a bright spot in the miserable nightmare that was his life, it was Steve Rogers. Steve Rogers, who had freed him, saved James' life at nearly the cost of his own. He owed Steve everything. Most of all, he needed to protect Steve, even if the blockhead didn't listen and continued pursuing James all over the continent.
They'd been locked into a private game of blind man's bluff for over six months. Sometimes James reached a target first, and was gone before Rogers and his task force of soldiers and government agents got there, and sometimes Rogers got to a target first, and James could only watch.
Sometimes, James would assist, where he could, but he never let Steve see him. He couldn't. If he did, he might not be able to leave again. Rogers exerted a pull on him, like gravity. They revolved around each other. He remembered that pull from before, could feel it when Steve was nearby. He knew that at one time they'd been brothers, in every way that mattered. Long before they'd been inseparable, like the story in the museum had said.
Not anymore. James couldn't face Steve, not after everything he'd done. As more of his memories came back to him over time, he'd come to the realization he had to stay away. He was dangerous. His mission was dangerous. HYDRA was already becoming more desperate, the battles at their hideouts becoming more brutal. James was expendable. He'd been rebuilt after his fall as the "Fist of HYDRA." Now, HYDRA was reaping the rewards of making him what he was, and if he fell in the process, then that was no loss.
But, Steve Rogers couldn't be allowed to fall. The world needed him too much, and James couldn't stomach the possibility. After a long struggle inside his own mind, James had finally found common ground with the man who'd once been Bucky Barnes. That ground was Steve, and it was to be guarded at all costs.
James was not stalking Steve, he was making sure Steve was safe. From a distance.
His spot at the corner of the cafe was perfectly situated. He could see Tony Stark's enormous monument to vanity clearly, yet he was far enough away that he'd appear to be just another customer drinking coffee on a busy day in Manhattan. Steve had entered the Tower two and a half hours earlier, carrying a duffel bag, which suggested that he wouldn't be leaving for a while. James intended to watch for a few more hours, then see if he could get higher and closer after nightfall.
Despite its grotesque lines-James supposed that was called "modern" architecture-the Tower seemed to be very safe, since it housed not only one of the world's richest men, but also an assortment of world-famous heroes on a regular basis. If Steve was indeed staying, then James would move on. He had intel on a few newly discovered HYDRA cells in the southwest that he needed to investigate.
If James just wanted to get a close look at Steve after a few lonely months, then he could accomplish that mission, too.
"More coffee?"
James didn't look at the waitress. "No."
"Something to eat, maybe?"
James fought a frown at the continued interruption. "No."
"Then, might I suggest you simply go and talk to him?" She said, in perfect Russian.
He froze. James kept his gloved metal hand on the table, while his right hand underneath inched toward one of his concealed blades. He fixed the intruder with a cold glare as she lowered herself into a chair on his left. She stared back, with what he knew to be a deceptively impassive expression. She was clearly judging his reaction.
His lip twisted with displeasure. "It's not nice to sneak up on people, Natalia."
Romanoff's eyes widened slightly, so subtly that most people wouldn't have noticed. "So, you do remember me."
James shifted his gaze to the tabletop. "Bits and pieces. The name change threw me, at first. But, eventually I matched the person I remembered with the woman who tried to shoot me in the face on that bridge."
"I only broke your goggles. It wasn't my best work." Romanoff demurred.
His lip turned up in a faint smile. "Actually...I think that helped me remember you."
"How?" She asked quietly.
"No one could piss me off the way you could." James said. The Red Room wasn't a place of fond memories. If he were to describe what he remembered to others, the reaction would likely be horror, or sympathy, maybe even disgust. He had glimpses of Natalia in his mind, barely an adult. Vague, disjointed images, but, he remembered a feeling. And he recalled his handlers' anger, and the chair-an even more painful memory of it than usual-and seeing her watching him in it. He remembered the words they'd spat at her. Love is for children.
That was all in the past.
Now, Natalia-Natasha, he corrected mentally-was older, and one of Rogers' compatriots. He watched her for a moment, then looked back toward the Tower. "Are you going to tell Steve I was here?"
Romanoff watched him back. "Yes. But, maybe not right away. He's tired, right now. He needs to focus on himself for a while."
James nodded. Yes, he does. "Are you going to tell him about us?"
She looked at him sharply, like he'd said something offensive. "No. He...Steve wouldn't understand."
He scowled, now offended himself. "He's not dumb."
Natasha returned his angry glare. "I know that. And you know that's not what I meant."
James stared down into his long-since cold coffee, trying to get his temper under control. It flared up sometimes, when he interacted with other people. It was easier being alone.
"Interesting that you're so protective of him," Natasha said, a note of challenge in her tone.
"Yeah?" James growled back, suddenly feeling defensive. "What of it?"
She stared back, unflinchingly. "Considering that you've been running him ragged for months. He's killing himself looking for you."
Her words were like a splash of cold water. His anger disappeared instantly. "That's-that's different...."
"Is it?"
"Me staying away," he clarified. "That's-it's for Steve's own good. I'm dangerous. I don't want to hurt him."
Romanoff didn't speak for a moment, then reached into her jacket and pulled out a small black phone. James recognized it for what it was, though he had not yet used one of the new devices. New to him. He'd seen his handlers with them, but they'd never given him a phone to use on a mission. She set the phone on the table between them.
"Take it."
He looked at her. "Why?"
Natasha sighed minutely. "I had Stark set it up for me. It's secure, untraceable. Even Stark can't follow it. It has one number in it. Mine. Use it if you need it."
James picked up the phone, stared at it, then looked back at her.
"No one should be out there alone," she added.
He considered that, then nodded once and pocketed the phone. He dropped a few dollars on the table to pay for the coffee, then stood and started to walk away. Natasha spoke again, quietly enough so that only his enhanced senses could hear.
"You are hurting him. Right now, by staying away." James froze, head turned just enough to see her, still at the table, watching him walk away with an unreadable expression. "You're hurting him."
He couldn't explain it to her. Even with his incomplete memory, he sensed that he knew Steve better than she did. Steve would follow him to Hell and back if James asked, and he'd do it willingly...and get himself killed. James wouldn't be able to survive having Stave's blood on his hands.
He met her eyes for a moment, then nodded in resignation.
"I know."
James pulled his hood up over his cap and disappeared into the bustling crowd.
END
A/N: They haven't addressed Natasha and Bucky's past association in the movies, as yet. Though, depending on how you interpret it, the way she looked away when Steve revealed who the Winter Soldier was in the back of the van suggests that maybe there's something she's not telling Steve.
Keeping everything nice and legal, Natasha would be 18 in 2002, about ten years before Steve was defrosted. It's certainly possible Bucky had been defrosted and could have been used to train the Black Widow in Russia. Until they make a BW or WS movie or Marvel One Shot about it, we might never know.