2014-02-23 - Alive?

The medical bay, the last couple of days, has been a strange place. Mostly due the presence of one man, whom Natasha brought to the Mansion. And, after a couple of days with Pym and McCoy, the quiet rumor about the place was the 'unbrainwashing' was successfull. Bucky was himself - or, at least, not the Winter Soldier anymore.

He's been given his arm back, and the Russian mark on the shoulder joint has been diligently scrubbed off it. He's dressed - a pair of simple jeans, and a simple t-shirt having been scrounged up. And, he's finishing packing the Winter Soldier outfit, mask, and all into a bag. Preparing to leave.

Natasha had been by to check on him, but not since the funeral. The entire past week had been a bit much for all of them. But she steps into the medical bay-- actually, to try and convince Doc Pym to side for her in the upcoming elections for Chairman. Side for her, and perhaps be the one to put her name forward... that would be a boon.

She expected Bucky to still be in bed, so seeing him up and around surprises her, but the surprise only registers for a moment before her face returns to a neutral expression. << James. Going somewhere? >> she asks, slipping back into Russian without thinking.

"Natalie." The man turns around, recognizing the voice. He pulls the zipper across the bag, and he nods, once. He pinches the bridge of his nose briefly, then remarks, "Let's drop the Russian, for now?" His voice is without the heavy Russian accent, now. Then, "Yeah. I need - some space." He pauses, looking at the bag, his hands. "I need to figure things out."

"What things?" Natasha asks, watching him warily. She knew what he was capable of. And she wasn't entirely sure what all the unbrainwashing entailed. "Are you able to leave? I know someone else who went through this... she was in bed for awhile after."

"Stark wants me to see some 'psychologist'," says Bucky, warily, "Named Samson." Military tradition, using someone's last name, instead of their first. "Gave me keys to a warehouse that ... Steve had." Except Steve, of course. Cap was Bucky's world. He pauses, pulls out an envelope out of the back pocket of his jeans. "This, too." He hasn't opened it yet.

There's a long pause, "Thank you. For what it's worth."

"Do not thank me," Natasha replies quietly. "I could have hunted you down before. Brought you in." Though she didn't know about the unbrainwashing abilities of Stark's tech. Also, since she had been burned by Russia, it was a pretty even chance Bucky would have tried to kill her.

Still. She hadn't tried. She had written it off, just like she had the day she had walked away from him. "What is in the envelope?" Her own accent is muted, almost completely gone. "And Doctor Samson is not so bad, I understand. The friend--" is she still? Or does Sawyer hate her for Tony? "--I was speaking of sees him as well."

"Yeah? Well, I'm not insane." Which is, in Bucky's time, the only reason, the only real function, of psychologists, generally. It wasn't 'normal' to go to one, at all. He looks up at the woman, "Though it is crazy that the only thing about - all of that - that was something I'd want to keep in my head is here, part of the same team that ended up fixing what those bastards did to me, all those years ago."

He looks at the envelope. Stares at it. Then, shrugs. She asked. He opens it. And, one by one, pulls the articles out. A Holo-PDA, with a 'to-do' list on trying to help Bucky 'stay busy' and acclimate, maps to locations, and other useful bits. Five $100 crisp bills. A credit card in his name that he squints at, turning it over. He doesn't ask. Then again, the Winter Soldier never had to worry about plastic money. And, a driver's license in his name. He begins putting them into his jacket pocket, one-by-one. "You're the only one here who has any idea of everything that's in my head. Everything, that I'll never forget. What I did."

"I see you've met Tony, then," Natasha reasons, given the contents of the envelope. "I'm sure the credit card alone would be enough to keep you comfortable for awhile." She leans against one of the medical beds.

"I do know. And they will never understand it," she says quietly. Maybe she's not the healthiest person for anyone to be talking to-- first Kat, now James. But she shrugs. "It is what it is."

"Apparently I've been volunteered to help him hunt down Alexi." That, then, is left hanging, as the man turns to face Natasha. But, he's not picking up the duffel, to leave yet. His features remain unexpressive, and his brown eyes, hard, regard Natasha, not hiding the fact he's looking, or waiting for her response to that.

"...Alexi?" Natasha's expression twists slightly. That wasn't the way James would have just spoken a man of the same name-- no, he had known of her husband, while they had been together before. "Alexi is dead. He was killed, his fighter exploded." She regards him, her expression going suddenly cold. "And Stark would know nothing about him anyway, not to want to hunt him down. He was just a fighter pilot, that is all."

"You didn't know?" It was, of course -- it happened after Natasha had 'broken up' with him. He sounds vaugely surprised, but accepts this the way a Soldier accepts any changes in his life. He deals with it, and moves on. "He's the Red Guardian, now. Stark doesn't know his name. Or who he was." Seems Natasha isn't the only one who sees fit to keep secrets from Tony. Or from everyone else. "Yet. Only asked what I knew about him. Told him that I knew where it's likely he'd be stationed, after what went down. And his name. I'll be going with him."

"Alexi is alive?" Natasha asks, woodenly. And he never let her know-- well, if it was for the good for mother Russia, then that made sense, after a fashion. Still, she looks almost crushed for a moment. But only a moment. "You gave Stark his name? His full name?" It would only be a matter of time before the marriage license was found-- damn. This complicates things.

"No, I did not know. I remember the night they told me he was dead-- I spent it with you, remember?" She is matter of fact about it. "But I was never told they..." of course. It was right afterwards that she went into more 'intimate' training. The sort of training for a lifestyle not suited for being married. They must have determined that she and Alexi were both more useful to the motherland in other ways.

That almost stung. "No. You cannot go. Neither of you." The words are out of her mouth before she can stop them.

"I didn't tell Stark his name. No. Just that I knew what it was." He nods, once. The memory clear, in his mind. "I remember, Natalie. And, I'm going. Because I need to go. Stark's a man who is determined to go, and you're not going to change his mind. It's a vendetta." He moves over to the woman, then, leaving the bag on the table, to stand in front of her. "I'm going, because if I don't, Stark's going to kill him. And we both know that's not what Steve would've wanted. I'm going, because I owe it to him. To Cap. For --," he looks away. He breathes a few moments, swallows. "Trust me."

"I thought..." Natasha swallows as well. "It was Skull who killed Steve. Not Alexi. Bozhe moi... it wasn't Alexi, was it?" She was beginning to doubt the mission reports now. Doubt many things. "...I'm still married?" That thought just caught up to her, her mind racing in a hundred directions at once. "No, please. Let me go. If anyone..." Alexi had to have known she was still alive, and he never contacted her. Of course not. He was loyal to Russia. She would have done the same, at least until they burned her. "If anyone can find him, talk to him... it is me."

"He would kill you. Or, take you in, at the least. We were told you betrayed us. To the West. Besides. He will trust me, at first. There's no reason for him not to. And he's not going to come peacefully." There's a pause, "No. Skull killed him." Bucky's eyes close, and he turns from Natasha. Again his hand moves to his head, his voice low. "Cap saw me. Figured out who I was. It was just a second. A pause. Red Skull saw it." There's another pause, "I ... don't remember anything after that."

Natasha shakes her head. "You thought I had betrayed you, yet you never tried to kill me, James," she argues. "No. It has to be me. I can't let Tony do this." Or find out anything about this. She sees his reaction to remembering Steve's last moments. She moves from where she was leaning against the bed to his side, resting a hand on his real arm gently. "It is Skull we must go after, James. Not Alexi-- not the Red Guardian. Skull is dangerous."

"For you," points out James, quietly, still not turning, "For Alexi, ... It's been - a long time. A very long time. For me? Months? A year? Two?" His lips press tight. His emotions for her are closer, his argument, than what Alexi's will be. After all, they didn't keep the Guardian in cold stasis. "It's not my mission. Talk to Stark. Either way, I'm going. I need to do something. Something, to make it up to him. To do what he would've done, had it been me, instead." And part of James, it's clear, wishes he -had- died, then and there. Everything would've been so much easier, then. "At least," he says, then, wryly, lifting his cybernetic hand to clasp over hers, "I know my training got you through it all."

"It's been... a long time. It is strange, you know... the years pass. Time is strangely elastic... it feels like it has been such a long time, yet at the same time, no time at all." She doesn't move her hand for a moment, then she finally pulls it away.

"James, please do not go. Not yet. I will convince Tony, somehow. He is grieving for Steve, but he has other responsibilities to attend to-- and this sort of thing has never been what he is good at. I will go. I have an ally I can call on, we work well together in the field. We always get our objective. Stark does not do stealth, or cunning. He..." she trails off.

"I was trained," she murmurs, "by one of the best. I have always been a fast learner, da?" She forces a smile to her lips. "Skull needs to be your objective. He is the one who killed Steve. He is the one..." her argument is likely falling on deaf ears. She cannot order him. But she can try to convince him.

"Stark said a few weeks," James at least conveys. "It's him you have to convince." He turns back towards her, and just looks into her eyes, his face impassive. "I will be going after Red Skull, as well. But Stark is apparently going off a list of things Steve asked him to do, in the case of his death. I don't think you're going to talk him out of it. He said the Red Guardian got away with a few vials of the Serum. My guess? Steve doesn't want anyone to have it."

He doesn't fight her, when she pulls away. He steps back, once, "Stark also offered to let me stay here. But I don't think I can do that. Not right now, anyways. Like I said. I have to figure things out."

Natasha's eyes narrow. That serum was always a fallback plan for her. One of many, admittedly, but still. "Of course he did. If he were there, he was protecting the program for the motherland." She looks at James. "You would have been as well," she reasons. "As I would have been, if I had not defected."

"You should stay. If not here, then nearby. Do not rush off to get yourself killed, try and... adjust." She sighs softly. "You have not worn the years as we have. There is much to learn about the world and what your place in it could be. You cannot learn these things without taking time."

"I heard Fury's still around. Commanding, as usual. Another ghost. So many damn ghosts." James shakes his head, slowly. Then the man nods, "I would've," he agrees. "Would've done more, too, if I hadn't heard Captain America was in the building." A grimace creases his features. He doesn't speak of it, but the woman can guess what kind of brainwashed protocols Bucky had in his head, for that particular name, and hero.

"I guess, in his own way, Steve did end up saving me." A rather sobering, and morbid thought. "No. I'm not going far. I've got a few safehouses, about, that nobody else knows about but me. Not even my old - comrades. But I just need - space." He rubs his temples, slowly.

"I'm not suicidal, Natalie. Just." He shakes his head, "Lost. There's a difference." His hands drop. "Maybe I'll even work up enough courage to go see Cap's place. Heard," and this, somewhat disbelieving, "He even had a live-in girlfriend there."

"He does." Natasha carefully avoids discussing Fury, for now. "She is interesting. I would not go there if I were you, though. Not yet. She is... interesting." That particular lilt to the word indicates 'dangerous' and 'insane' might be part of Natasha's opinion. "As much as it boggles me to know, apparently even Steve has--had-- sex from time to time." She is attempting a joke, though it will likely fall flat.

James at least makes a ghost of a smile, barely, and literally brief. But, it's there. He doesn't probe further either about CAT, or Fury. He assures, however, "I'll stick around, Natalie. If for no other reasons than you. And Steve. I'd at least like to learn what he was doing, without --," he was going to say him, "While I was gone." He looks back to her, "And with the one person who I won't feel I have to pretend anything around. Apparently I'm some sort of legendary hero." Which is not a weight that he wants, now. "Stark told me not to abuse it. Hell. I'd be happy if it wasn't even there."

"Yes, do not abuse it," Natasha smiles lightly. "But it is easy enough to ignore it. There are other legendary heroes... when the children come asking, we distract them with those, and evade." She looks for a moment as if she might stop closer to him, but she doesn't

He waits, watches her a moment, waiting -- and when nothing comes from it, he then turns to grab his duffle bag. "I'll let you know where I'm staying. Once I figure it out." He looks down at the duffle bag, hesitating a few hard moments. "Just - don't -- " He'd never admit it. But, part of him is afraid of the weight that he already knows is going to be a burden of what everyone -expects- him to be, and what he is. He clears his throat, lifts the bag, "Go too far. I might need someone to drink with." It's not exactly what he was going to say, though.

"Mm. I'm always here if you need me, James," Natasha replies calmly. "Drink or no."

There's a silent nod of his head, an acknowledgement. His cybernetic arm then does something 'new'; at least, to Natasha's experience. It simulates, likely by holograms and top of the line technology, a real, flesh-and-blood arm. "Sometimes, I forget it's not even real," he says, quietly. Then, "I'll - be in touch. Take care of yourself, Natalie." And he starts towards the door of the medbay, steps slow.

She waits until the door has shut behind him, before responding.

"I always do."