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He heard the door open behind him, and without even turning he knew it was her. “Natasha,” his voice croaked. He had missed how her name tasted on his lips.
“Hello, James,” she replied. She was the picture of poise despite the emotions that roiled within her.
“So you do remember,” he stated, his voice flat, but there was no mistaking the note of hope hidden within. “How?”
“Telepath.”
Bucky finally turned to look at her then, and she was struck by how awful he looked. It had only been a week since the whole ordeal had ended, and he looked like he hadn’t showered, slept, or eaten in that whole time. He had certainly drank, though; that she could smell permeating off of him in waves.
In that moment her heart constricted and she felt the beginnings of doubt rise up. It would be so easy to just wrap her arms around him and fall right back into their old patterns, but she knew she couldn’t do that. Maybe it would make him feel better but it wouldn’t fix anything and she would only grow to resent him. She had to follow through with what she came here to do, what she needed to do.
“You trusted one of them enough to let them in your head?” he asked in disbelief, completely oblivious to her inner turmoil.
“No,” Natasha answered honestly. “But I trusted Logan.”
He nodded slowly, accepting the answer, and the air grew heavy between them. She knew it was coming: the apologies, the confessions, the declarations; so when he opened his mouth to speak, he barely got past her name before she cut him off.
“You had your chance to speak, you had a week’s worth of chances. Now it is my turn,” she said, and her tone left little room for argument. He relented as she knew he would, though she doubted he would retain that silence through all she had to say.
“You, more than anyone, know what Novokov put me through. It is not something one just gets over,” she started. Finally moving further into the room he could see that she was favouring her leg, the one that Hawkeye had shot, but for now he did as asked and said nothing as she settled on a stool a good distance from where he sat. She continued, “I understand why you left, but that doesn’t make it hurt less, no matter how irrational that is.”
She hadn’t remembered who he was at the time, so why would she have accepted comfort from a stranger? Still, the entire ordeal had been traumatizing, no matter how well she hid it, and he hadn’t been there, not even waiting outside, to see how she was handling it; it felt almost selfish that he had run away, and maybe she was being the selfish one just thinking that, but that didn’t change how she felt.
“You know how much my choices mean to me. You know how few I was given in life, how much I have been controlled. You were there, James, and I thought of all the people I knew you would be the last one to take such an important decision out of my hands.”
“Nat, please,” Bucky blurted out, no longer able to stay silent. “I didn’t mean-“
“No, you didn’t mean it that way, I know,” Natasha cut him off again. “You thought removing yourself from my life was what was best for me. Maybe you were right. Maybe it is what’s best for both of us.”
He stared at her, unspeaking, so she went on.
“You’ve cut yourself off from everyone who cares about you. Sam, Toro, they don’t even know you’re alive, and Steve… he was there for you long before I ever was, and I know he misses you.” It had been difficult to see from the inside just how dependent upon her Bucky had become, but finding out the things he did to get her back, the stupid decisions he had made… looking back on their time together since his ‘death’, there was no mistaking it. He had built his world around her, and was slowly and surely removing everyone else from it. “I can’t be your everything, not anymore.”
“I love you, Nat,” Bucky interrupted, the distress and desolation in his voice piercing her heart.
“I know, and I love you too,” she replied, smiling sadly at him. “But I don’t know if I can trust you anymore. What you did is still too fresh, and right now it feels unforgivable.” He was the one person who was supposed to understand having been there, but while he had acted out of love, wanting to spare her further pain, he had still presumed to make decisions for her, to keep her memories from her, something he should have known she would never want for herself. Steve and Clint had been pretty tightlipped, but Logan had had no qualms telling her all the gritty details, a trait of his she had always appreciated. Taking that choice from her coupled with how reckless Bucky had been - actually letting himself be brainwashed in an attempt to find her - just proved how destructive their relationship had become. “I need time. We need time apart to rediscover who we are when we’re not together.”
He didn’t like how that sounded, he was nothing without her. Everything that was good about him was because of her. She truly was his better half, his good half, and he felt like he was being torn apart. He wanted to argue, wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her into submission, but that only worked in the movies, and it would never work on a woman like Natasha. He could see in her eyes that her mind was made up, her decision unchangeable. It had been easier to let her go when she didn’t remember him, but now that she did and he still had to watch her walk out of his life it was almost unbearable.
“Clean yourself up, James,” she said unapologetically as she got to her feet. “Let Steve help you. You are more than this, and you’ve been through much worse.” It angered her to think that this was what he had been reduced to, and for what? She was the one who had been kidnapped and brainwashed; she was the one who had killed innocent people; she was the one who had to live with all she had done, and she would, yet he was the one falling apart. She had done many terrible things in her life and she owned them all, but he let them own him.
He turned away from her and looked at himself in the mirror behind the bar, taking in his appearance. He was so far beyond disheveled that saying he looked like hell would be an understatement. Lowering his head he took another drink, though somehow the taste had gone bitter on his tongue. Hearing Natasha sigh, Bucky raised his eyes to the mirror again.
“Good bye, James,” she said, and he watched her reflection as she passed behind him and disappeared through the door. Her step never faltered and she never once looked back.
Natasha Romanoff had lived longer than any person ever should. She had seen all the horrible actions men take against each other, and had committed more herself than she cared to admit, though she never skirted the blame for anything she had done. Memories to her were not treated as good and bad, she did not wish to hold on to the former while forgetting the latter. Her memories were what made her, good and bad both, and she clung to them all, but that wasn’t to say that she let them dictate her every move. Often people fall into the trap of wanting to relive the good times, but that can be as dangerous as dwelling on the bad.
She had spent far too long living in the past, and it was time to move on, to embrace the present and look to the future. She was her own woman, first and foremost, and though her heart ached she felt good, strong. Her choices were her own and she wouldn’t let anyone take that away from her.