they say l o v e is pain, well darling let's h u r t tonight || for natasha_romanoff

[maarmoreal]

The safe house is one that is well hidden and well stocked. It is also, most notably, not on the list of safe houses given to him by HYDRA. How he even knows that it is here, hidden in the backwoods of Romania, isn't something that he is going to question at this point in the game. He needed to get away, needed to no be anywhere near the Unite States, or blonds that made his gut churn. He isn't The Asset anymore, isn't looking to be picked up a few miles off mission by his handlers only to be shoved back into the Chair, isn't--

Mission: Eliminate target. Designated Target: Stev-- Captain Rog-- America. Mission status: ...

He shakes his head, metal hand clenching --spasming-- around the strap of the backpack he had picked up at the airport, the faint whir of the gears familiar and comforting amid the chaos that is rattling around his brain.

The man on the helicarrier...

Mission: Eliminate Steve Ro--

"I'm with you 'till the end of the line"

Those words rattled his bones. Shook something loose in him that didn't want to go back in a cage, didn't want to go back in the Chair.

So he didn't let it.

HYDRA was compromised anyway, not that he cared. He didn't know what he knew right now, didn't care, didn't want--

Breathing out heavily, he pushes back all extra thoughts and focuses on getting up the last few feet of the mountain trail to the safehouse without curling up into a ball under the weight of his own thoughts (were they just his thoughts? He wasn't even sure who he was anymore). It is a relief when he pulls himself over a ledge, the harder way up the mountain but faster, and sees the tiny cabin still tucked away without any signs of someone having been there.

He doesn't want to think about how he even knew it would be here.

There was something in him that urged him here, telling him he would be safe, that this was, this was--

Mission: Training in the Re-- Mission: Training--

Stumbling a bit, he slides towards the cabin, eyes sharp as he surveys the area. Just because it was supposed to be safe, didn't mean that it was. And he wasn't sure how else to proceed, didn't feel right just feeling okay with a place because something left in his fucked up brain told him that he could.

Life wasn't really like that.

So he takes the time, the extra precaution, to scope out the area, somehow knowing what it was supposed to look like untouched. His memories weren't the safest of things (the exhibit in the Smithsonian still hurt, like someone was splitting open his chest and filling it with water and lead), but it went deeper than that here; when he thought he needed to be safe, he knew he could come here.

And he wasn't about to question why.

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[maarmoreal]

There is red carved into his bones, but no, it isn't his colour. He is the colour of ash and dust and the shadows that you see from the corner of your eyes when you feel someone watching you. He wasn't a human, not really, he was a shell, everything that he might have been carved out, leaving something that could be filled left behind. He was a weapon, his purpose was to kill or be killed, and he knew that he didn't have that any more, and that was terrifying. He barely knew how to deal with the tenderness that seeped out of Natalia, such softness should not break him.

But it was, gods above it was. He watches as he fingers tangled with his and it feels like another piece being slotted into place even if he has no memory to go with it. He is squeeing her hand with a gentleness that he does not expect from himself and he wonders what other things are hidden right beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to creep out and blindside him.

Good evening, soldier.

Natalia's voice is -- soothing. Grounding. It quiets the voices clamouring for attention in his head and he uses that, and the warmth of her hands, as a lifeline. He is here, as safe as he can be, and now. There is no ice, no snow, no missions to be carried out. He has-- he has freedom, and that shakes him to the core. He can feel the fear creeping in, even as he tries to focus on Natalia, can feel the tremors in his hands, can--

I am calling you the last of my heart.

Suddenly there is no air to breathe because those words have ripped the air from his lungs. The tremors in his fingers have stopped and he is staring at her with something crossed between wonder and horror and confusion. There is so much emotion in those words that he feels like he might drown, and it is no trick. He knows the tells (knows her tells, can remember learning them time and time again in the dark and the cold), and this is not-- She doesn't--

When he speaks, his voice is rough and raw, and he bleeds honesty into his words. "I loved you. They used that against me, and I-- they used that against you. How--"

He stops, choking a little and making a whining noise, like a wounded animal, as he tried to blink away the fragments of memories that swirled around him. When he looks back to her, he is pleading without words, something in his gaze uncertain and trusting and terrified.

[natasha_romanoff]

Every tremor and quake he suffered, she felt it. Absorbed it through their joined hands with a saddened look in her eyes. Breathing in slowly, she waited for him to take it in. Turn it over in his head... and her brow furrowed in sadness from the way it seemed he couldn't even breathe with the knowledge. These were things she always feared with being honest with him, but she promised him once. Promised that if she told everyone else lies, she would always try to be honest with him.

Little good it ever did her. They kept removing everything from them. And on the off chance they did keep her away, he somehow found his way back to her. And here they were. Squeezing his hands firmly, she drew one to her lips and kissed his knuckles, uncaring of the blood still splattered over them. Her eyes fluttered closed at the pronouncement of past love and it echoed back to her in a different way..

Love is for children.

People that didn't know how bad this hurt. That didn't realize you could have your very soul sucked out of you. And yet, here she was again. How could she answer that? And then it didn't matter. The sounds he made caused her head to rise and her body to move fluidly. Releasing his hands, she found her way up into his lap to curl about him, both hands slipping into his hair to pull his face into her chest to just... hold him. Pressing her lips into his hair, she kissed the mussed locks and whispered lowly. "You did love me. I still do. It hurts. Both knowing, and not knowing." For both of them.

Carding her fingers through the hair to rest softly at the back of his neck, she spoke as sweet and soothing as she could. "I will not leave you this time. Not this time, James... no one can tear us apart now." She hated speaking so hopefully, but she knew this to be true. She wouldn't leave. Not even Steve or Tony could keep her from him this time. Turning her head, she placed her cheek to his temple. Her voice slipped into soft Russian as she dipped down to whisper in his ear. "Shh... just listen to my voice. It's okay." Her voice shifted, singing a strange Russian lullaby to him, her voice perfectly lilting and staying smooth and soft. For most, it seemed like anything but a peaceful song... to them, it was a shared solace.

[maarmoreal]

Truth hurts more than lies. It always did, always will, and it is painful now as ever. He knows that he has been fed lies and half truths his whole life, and this honesty from Natalia is almost too much for him to process. Like a man that has been starving being presented with rich foods sure to make him ill. But he is greedy for it, greedy for whatever else this woman of red might dredge out of the depths of his shadows, what other things she might be able to call forth from him, what other voices she might silence. He will take the pain, the terror, because he knows that it is worth it.

Gentle lips on his skin send shocks along his nerves. This is not real, a test a test a tes--

Watching her with hooded eyes, he tried to pull together the few quick as lightening images that passed beneath his the surface of his mind. Too many shadows, and too much blood, but he knows-- knows that she is there too, if only he could dig far enough down. If he could only wipe away enough blood, maybe he would be worthy of her gentleness, of her calmness. Of--

The noise registers to him, but he does not realize that he is the one making it, is startled by Natalia's movements but-- he doesn't stop her. He all but melts into the hold, eyes shit tight against the horrors that lie in wait in his mind, and presses himself against the skin of her neck, not even aware of how vulnerable she is right now. He can only think that he is safe, that this is okay. He is free and HYDRA will not find him again, will not rip them apart and tear him to shreds for wanting just one thing in the world.

When he speaks, he must try more than once, tongue heavy in his mouth. "I think-- I think I know, the love of you." It doesn't make sense, but it does. There is no reason for this reaction otherwise. "I know in some sense, this body knows, as it knows to kill, it-- knows you. Knows to .. be safe."

Soldier, report. Soldier-- sol-- love is not--

He closes his eyes again, tightly, as if that could block out the world. Leave him here with this, whatever this might be. There are hands in his hair and a weight on his lap and he feels-- he feels like James, just a little bit. Something warm uncurling, stretching its legs beneath the weight of all the horror. There is something in him that responds to the song, broken bits of Russian slipping from his lips as it pulls up the memory of a drafty room in Germany, blinds shut tight, but the bed was warm. Warm and perfect and--

James softly joins her singing, voice shaky but there.

[natasha_romanoff]

Closing her eyes to the pain, she focused more on the words she forms in that song. The soft lilting tone is all but whispered into his hair and against his cheek. Natalia blocked out the sadness and the pain that come with his words. All in such distance from the concept, like it's there on display but not in his hands. Intangible. Outside of his current world.

The sound of his voice encouraged her. It pushed her to keep singing to the end, her body swaying them gently to the rise and fall of the lullaby. When she finished the song, she exhaled in a gust against his hair. It's not a smooth breath, it stuttered and paused at times showing how much it affected her though she tried not to let it show. Biting into her cheek, she can almost feel the coppery tang of broken skin and blood on her tongue.

But it doesn't stop her from humming the tune as her fingers play in his hair.

Finally reaching the end a second time, she convinced herself to move. Pull back and find his eyes quietly. "Remember things as they come, James. Don't force it." Her eyes almost plead for her even if her voice stayed even and calm. "For once... we have time."