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"I should have taken you with me," Natasha whispered, her breath warm against his temple, her fingers delicately combing through the tangled strands of his hair.
The Winter Soldier leaned back in the hospital bed, pulling gently away from her touch. "Hindsight is perfect, Nataschenka. I don't blame you." Had she asked, he would have turned her down and turned her in. He knew what she did not, that she could never have taken her with him.
But she looked at him with wounded eyes and he could almost taste her regret. "I loved you," she said softly. Her hands knotted together in her lap.
He stared at her, breath catching. Steve was... everything. The Winter Soldier was beginning to remember Steve, remember his best friend, and in turn, remember Bucky, but he wasn't Bucky again just yet and the Winter Soldier had loved Natasha. He hadn't even realized until this moment how much he had counted on her being here for him.
Loved. Past tense. Loved.
He looked up, saw her gaze had flitted to the doorway, and followed it with his own to the archer, Hawkeye. She had loved the Winter Soldier; now, she did not.
The Winter Soldier—no, Bucky forced himself to smile. "Your new life suits you."
Natasha gave a small, strangled laugh. "You mean HYDRA masquerading as SHIELD?"
Hindsight was perfect.