𝐒𝐈𝐗.
❝ how to repress your emotions:
a guide by svetlana barnes ❞

"ABSOLYUTNYY DURAK!"

Svetlana is mid—rant, Russian spilling out of her as she furiously paces the cargo hold of the plane.

"To, kak on derzhitsya, budto on kakoy—to geroy! Spasite mir neskol'ko raz i togda my smozhem pogovorit'! Kakoy tolstogolovyy durak, vedet sebya tak, budto znayet vse. Vse, chto on skazal dyade Sam, bylo tak neuvazhitel'no! I to, kak on nazval papu 'Bucky', eto pozorno, eto grubo! On mog prosto idti vpered i yest' der'mo i umirat'! YA tak perepolnen yarost'yu, chto mogu krichat'! Yego litso khochet byt' probitym, i ya gotov obyazat'!"

When she finally stops to take a breath, Sam lets himself blink a few moments before he glances warily at Bucky, "Is she doing okay over there?"

He doesn't look up, "Doctor Raynor suggested that she start expressing her emotions more freely, as opposed to repressing or disassociating."

"Oh." Sam nods slowly, cautiously, "And, uh, how's that working out for you, Slugger?"

"Terribly." The girl sinks to the cold ground, grumpily putting her chin on her fists.

Ever since they left Walker and Hoskins out on the road, she hasn't been able to shake this terrible feeling weighing in her chest. And she knows she's not the only one. Overall, her little family vacation isn't going so well. Uncle Sam has been laying on his back on a side bench and her father has barely spoken two sentences since they boarded.

"And how about you?" Squinting in the dim light, Sam quirks a brow over at her father, "You all right?"

Bucky doesn't move from where he's been sitting on a pile of crates, shoulders hunched in, dog tags rattling at the center of his chest, "Let's take the shield, Sam. Let's take the shield and do this ourselves."

"We can't just run up on the man, beat him up, and take it."

Svet barely resists the urge to contradict him.  Barely.

Sam sits up from his spot on the bench, cocking his head at her father, "Do you remember what happened the last time we stole it?"

"Maybe," Bucky snips.

"I'll help you in case you forgot. Sharon was branded enemy of the state, and Steve, your daughter, and I were on the run for two years."

Svetlana's eyes slowly dim and she sighs to herself, remembering those two years all too well.

"I don't know about you, but I don't wanna live the rest of my life la vida loca, and I'm pretty sure Natasha would have a few things to say about it as well. We just got our a— handed to us by supersoldiers, and we got nothing."

"Not entirely true."

Svet looks up from the cold metal floor, watching in confusion as Bucky slips off the crate, his shoes quietly clicking on the floor when he squeezes her shoulder and then sits at Sam's side.

"There is someone that... you two should meet."

Svetlana's never been to Baltimore, Maryland. Though, to be fair, she's actually never been to lots of places in the States. All the same, it's strange to think that there's anyone from the old HYDRA days that her papa knows and she doesn't.

An entire afternoon later, Svetlana stands slightly behind her father's shoulder, watching as he tries to convince a boy about her age to let them in the green gated door of a wide suburban house.

"Tell him the guy from the bar in Goyang is here." Her father finally lifts his dark head, voice low and reserved, "He's gonna know what that means."

Moments later, the heavy door swings open and they are slowly allowed into the dimly—lit house, each step echoing in the quiet that awaits them. A broad—shouldered man with wrinkled dark skin stands amidst the silence, eyes shadowed and painfully focused.

He's methodical, Svet notices, much like they are. He observes, he analyzes, and then he reacts. She supposes he must be some sort of soldier, then. A very, very good one, Svet can tell.

Her papa slowly leads them closer, "Isaiah?"

The man takes a few steps forward as well, head tilting back, "Look at you..."

"This is, uh, Sam and my daughter, Svetlana." The man's eyes linger on the slender redhead for a beat before darting back to Bucky. "Sam, Svetka, this is Isaiah. He was a hero. One of the ones that HYDRA feared the most, like Steve. We met in '51."

"If by 'met', you mean 'I whupped your a—', then..." Isaiah's low voice rasps out, "Yeah."

Bucky smirks a little, and Svet finds herself smiling a bit too.

"We heard whispers he was on the peninsula, but everyone they sent after him never came back. So the US military dropped me behind the line to go deal with him."

Svet peeks up at her papa's face, hand trailing down his metal arm to find his own. It hurts her to think there was a time in his history where he didn't have her, when there was a time he was alone in that nightmare.

"I took half that metal arm in that fight in Goyang, but I see he's managed to grow it back." When Isaiah nods to their intertwined hands, Svet squeezes his metal fingers a little tighter, "I just wanted to see if he got the arm back.... Or if he'd come to kill me."

Svetlana lifts her chin, softly promising, "My papa's not a killer anymore, sir."

Bucky sends her a small faltering smile.

There's a mirroring near smile on Isaiah's lips when his sharp eyes glance her way, "You think he can wake up one day and decide who he wanna be? It doesn't work like that. Well, maybe it does for folks like you..."

Bucky's lips part for a moment, struggling for words amidst the sadness that fills this house, this place, this man's soul, "Isaiah, the reason we're here is because there's more of you, me, and my daughter out there."

"You, me, and your daughter," Isaiah repeats with vehemence.

"And we need to know how."

"I'm not gonna talk about it anymore!"

Grasping onto a small rectangular tin, Isaiah turns and hurls it across the room with such strength that it splinters straight into the wall. Sam's eyes snap wide as they stare at the metal case now completely embedded into the solid wood. The boy her age sadly looks down and a worried chill raises the fine hairs on her arms.

"You know what they did to me for being a hero?" Isaiah steps slowly closer, a limp in one leg, pain in both eyes, hand smacking the center of his chest, "They put my a— in jail for thirty years! People running tests, taking my blood, coming into my cell!"

Svet's eyes fill with tears and she feels a lump well up in her throat.

He jabs a shaking finger at Bucky's chest, "Even your people weren't done with me!"

Sam's eyes glimmer with tears of his own, "Isaiah..."

"Get out of my house!" Isaiah screams a broken sound, overcome with pain and fear and rage.

Svetlana flinches back, bumping into Sam who does the same. Bucky turns away immediately, respecting the man's request. His grandson turns them around, quickly ushering them towards the front door.

"I'm sorry..." Svet whispers before hurriedly following her father out, hand snatching onto the back of his leather jacket to stay close.

Her uncle storms out ahead of them, feet pounding the aged wooden steps as he moves towards the empty street.

"Sam..."

"Why didn't you tell me about Isaiah?! How could nobody bring him up?!" When her papa doesn't respond, Sam looks back at him, "I asked you a question, Bucky."

"I know."

Svetlana follows silently after them, hands now buried back in the pockets of her baggy grey hoodie, sneakers scuffing against the pavement.

"Steve didn't know about him?"

"He didn't." Her papa confirms quietly, "I didn't tell him or Sveta."

Sam comes to a sudden stop, pointing back at the unsuspecting house, "So you're telling me that there was a black supersoldier decades ago and nobody knew about it?"

Tires roll across concrete, and when a siren whoops nearby, Svetlana quickly looks up to find a police car pulling around the corner towards them. The girl has to fight the urge to run, personally not overly fond and generally wary of any kind of institutional authority. It's the strangest thing. She'll dive into battle with mysterious supersoldiers but anytime any sort of authority shows their faces, Svet feels like a little girl again. Vulnerable and afraid.

"Hey!"

Sam tenses but keeps his voice casual, "What's up, man?"

"Is there a problem here?" One officer calls out.

"No, we're just talking."

Both officers step out of the flashing police car, their hands hovering over their weapons as they step closer and pace around them. Svet doesn't like the way they're eyeing her Uncle Sam, in a way she doesn't understand.

"We're fine," Bucky assures, annoyed at being interrupted.

They're looking solely at Sam now, approaching him slowly, "Can I see your ID?"

"I don't have ID. Why?" Sam's voice hardens just as Bucky groans, "Man, seriously?"

"Papa, Uncle Sam..." Svet can't help but be confused, "What do these men want?"

"Okay, sir, just calm down."

"He is calm." Svet's hand curls around her uncle's arm, as if this could protect him somehow, "Only... leave us alone."

"We're just standing here, talking," Sam scoffs at the two officers still circling them.

Bucky sighs impatiently, "Give him your ID so we can get the h—ll outta here."

"No. We're just talking."

"Hey, hey!" The officer steps closer, hand motioning Sam back when he turns to Bucky, "Is he bothering you and your daughter, sir?"

"No, he's not bothering us!" Bucky yells in a fury, disgust thick in his voice, "Do you know who this is?!"

This gives them pause, even for just a moment.

Finally, one officer leans over to whisper, "Hey, these guys are Avengers."

The officer's attitude changes immediately, eyes shooting wide and embarrassment flushing his face, "Oh, God, I am so sorry, Mr. Wilson." He chuckles nervously, as if this somehow makes it all alright, "I didn't recognize you without the goggles. I'm really, really sorry about this."

Sam just stands there, so many flickering emotions written on his features.

Another police car pulls up with flashing red and blue lights, and Svet quickly looks at the people now gathering around to stare. What do they all want? What are they all doing here? The officers have congregated off to the side, quietly talking amongst themselves.

"I didn't..." Leaning closer to Sam, Bucky tries to explain and falters, "I didn't tell anybody because he had already been through enough..."

Sam has nothing left to say.

"Mr. Barnes?" The first officer suddenly reappears at their side, "Uh, there's a warrant out for your arrest. Yours too, Miss Barnes."

Svet flinches back a little, and Bucky quickly puts his body between the girl and the police officers, not looking for a fight — just instinct.

"Look." Sam returns the favor, stepping in just as they did for him, "The president pardoned them for all that—,"

Everything fades out, a sound rising up like fizzing bubbles all around Svet. The world blurs and fades, faces and buildings mixing with flashing red and blue lights. There's no smell, no air, no sound. Her papa is gone, so is Uncle Sam.

All that's left is the feeling of cold metal handcuffs locking around her wrists.

━━━━━━

LESS THAN THREE HOURS LATER, the interior door of the Baltimore police station buzzes, and Svetlana is finally released from custody.

The officers escorting her out have said and done nothing, but the young girl looks pale and shaken, flinching at every movement and sound. Sam's been sitting in the waiting room, but the moment he sees her, he shoves himself up from the hard plastic chair and jogs towards her.

"Hey, Slugger..." Sam bends back a bit, trying to meet her dazed eyes, "You okay?"

The girl doesn't bother answering that. She just keeps her eyes on the collar of his jacket, numbly whispering, "Mamulya will be so mad when she finds out we missed our court—mandated therapy."

"Not as mad as she's gonna be when she finds out you guys got arrested for it, too."

Svetlana nods gravely, eyes drifting to study the ground, biting onto her plump bottom lip.

"You look confused, Slugger..." He gently touches her shoulder, "Everything okay?"

Svet doesn't respond for a long moment, just stands there before him, so many painful and confusing thoughts running through her head. Memories, fears, questions...

When she finally looks back up, her morning sky eyes are filled with angry tears, "Why were those men like that with you? I just—I don't understand it. They treated you... it was wrong."

Understanding flooding his expression, Sam's head rolls back and he pulls in a long deep breath, "Yeah. It was. It was wrong. God, growing up like you did, you wouldn't really get this, huh?"

Still looking so confused, Svet shakes her head, "Papa and Mama, they tried to explain... because they wanted me to recognize when I saw it, but I've never... seen it. Vy ponimayete?" You understand?

"YA ponimayu." Nodding a little, Sam can't help but sigh again, "You grew up in a different world than the rest of us did, so it makes sense why you'd be confused." I understand.

"It's hard to explain because there's so much to explain, if that makes sense. But it's a real messed up world we live in, Svetlana, especially for people who look different than the majority. But the important thing is to not only stay informed but also act on it. Right?"

The girl eagerly nods, frowning down at their feet with a thoughtful twitch to her brow.

"Uncle Sam?" She looks up again, quite suddenly, "I know I don't fully understand, and I see I can't ever, truly. But I see now why the shield is complicated..."

Sam gives her a sad half—smile, gently running a hand down the back of her head.

A familiar voice call across the busy police station, "Svetti?"

Sam and Svet both turn to find none other than Natasha Romanoff herself striding quickly across the crowded room, sweeping the girl up and pulling her to her chest as soon as she's within reach.

Svetlana feels herself nearly melt when Natasha raspily asks, "You okay?"

The girl jerkily nods, feeling herself shaking, mouth dry and eyes stinging. Her mother cups the back of her head, holding her to her shoulder and pressing a kiss into her hair.

Something has changed, Natasha can sense that. But she won't push her, not out in public like this, not when she's not ready. Instead, all the mother can do is give a tight nod and wrap an arm around her shoulder.

Turning swiftly to the other member of their little group, Natasha gets right to business, "Thanks for calling. What happened? Where is he?"

"He's fine, don't worry." Sam assures, eyes and tone serious all the same, "They just missed their court—mandated therapy."

Natasha's brows furrow, "What?"

"Sam?" Their trio turns to find Doctor Raynor approaching them, coat on and bag over her shoulder, "And... Natasha Romanoff as well, this is a surprise. I heard reports you were dead."

Natasha stiffens with her arm still around her daughter, providing nothing but blank eyes and a thin smirk, "Greatly over—exaggerated."

"I see that. In any case, I've heard a lot about you both." The woman puts out a hand for them to shake, "I'm Doctor Raynor. I'm James' and Svetlana's therapist. So nice to meet you both."

Sam nods with a polite expression, "Thank you for getting them out."

"That was not me."

"Christina!" They all turn to find the source of the shouting voice, at least three of the four disappointed to find John Walker taking selfies amongst civilians and officers alike. "It's great to see you again."

Svetlana groans rather pitifully. They really have the worst luck today.

Natasha has to grind her teeth to keep from saying anything.

"You gotta be kidding me." Sam grumbles, scoffing under his breath, "You know him?"

"Yeah." The therapist replies carefully, "We did some field ops back in the day."

The man in some twisted version of Steve's suit steps closer, sauve and confident with a grin on his face, "I heard you were working with Bucky and Svetti, so I thought I'd step in."

Svet flinches at his use of her nickname. Suddenly it sounds dirty, tainted somehow — as if the name doesn't belong to just her loved ones anymore. It belongs to his man... the same kind of man she's spent her whole life being afraid of. More superiors, more soldiers, more men with titles that they didn't earn.

"Bucky and the kid's not gonna be following a strict schedule any longer."

"Who the h—ll authorized that?" Natasha grits out in a low voice, green eyes sharp as a knife.

"Um..." Walker just draws his hands back towards himself, flashing a gloating white smile.

No one is impressed.

"They're too valuable of assets to have tied up."

"I'm sorry." Natasha cuts in, raising a hand and faking a smile, "What's your name?"

There's genuine offense and even a glimpse of hurt in the man's eyes, shocked that she doesn't automatically know, "Uh y—you don't know who I am? I'm John Walker, the new Captain America."

Natasha's blank expression doesn't change, only her brows twitch up as if this is brand new and barely interesting information. Fighting back a smirk, Svet's eyes quickly dart to Sam who is trying to bury a laugh of his own.

"Right. John." The red—haired woman repeats with emphasis, raspy voice somehow smooth as silk, "Well, I don't know how to tell you this, John, but they're not assets. They're human beings."

There's a clench of his jaw, as if feeling called out, embarrassed even, "I understand that—,"

"Do you?" Natasha cuts him off once again, all pretense of a smile wiped from her face.

His voice is harder when his eyes flash back to Doctor Raynor, "Just do whatever you got to do with them, then send them off to me. Got some unfinished business, the three of us. You too, Wilson. I'll be outside."

Natasha curses him under her breath.

Svetlana drifts from the conversation, eyes slipping to the floor as she takes in the sounds of the police station. Unfamiliar heartbeats, muffled voices, trickles of sweat slipping down foreheads, feet on cold concrete. Svet's small hands curl tighter into fists, trying to search for the familiarity within the chaos around her.

And finally, a steady march of booted feet, a heartbeat with a familiar soothing rhythm.

Svet sharply turns from where everyone else is still glaring after John Walker to the door by the information desk, just in time to see her papa and two officers step out. Shoes slipping on tile, the girl runs from her mother's side and quickly lets herself be tightly wrapped up in her father's arms.

"Hey baby." Bucky murmurs into her hair, feeling himself sigh in relief at having her close again, "Are you okay?"

She barely nods before she's asking, "And you?"

"I'm fine." He presses a kiss to her cheek, "Don't you worry 'bout me, doll."

He gives her a sideways smile that she knows isn't honest. She doesn't push it.

Bucky's ocean eyes dart up and he's not sure whether to be nervous or relieved, "Natalia—,"

Without a word, the redhead turns and proceeds to punch him straight in the chest. Clapping a hand over her mouth, Svetlana barely stifles a gasp and Sam quickly pulls her back as if expecting an all out brawl.

Bucky stumbles, eyes wide and brows wrinkled, "Why?!"

Natasha's brow arches, "You got arrested again?"

The man simply sighs, shoulders dropping. It's the strangest thing, an almost terrifying thing, but Natasha feels herself softening. Feeling almost outside of her skin, she gently places both hands on his shoulders before she leans on her tiptoes and kisses his scruffy cheek. Bucky is still grappling for words when Doctor Raynor suddenly announces.

"James, Svetlana, conditions of your release: family session now." The therapist strides past them all, moving deeper into the station, "You too, Miss Romanoff. Sam."

Natasha shifts in immediate discomfort.

Sam also begs off, hands innocently raised, "That's okay. I'll be out here with—,"

"That wasn't a request!"

As Bucky and Svet reluctantly follow, Natasha and Sam share a despairing look.

She offers him a small tired smirk, "You first."

Moments later, they somehow find themselves sitting awkwardly in an interrogation room around a small metal table; Sam and Bucky side—by—side with Natasha and Svetlana on opposite ends.

"So..." The therapist glances at the many faces, "Who would like to start?

"All right, look, Doctor... Raynor?" When the therapist confirms her name, Sam nods and goes on, "I get it, why you want to talk to Freaky Magoo and Pippi Longstocking over there. But I'm 100% fine."

Svet looks confused. Who is Pippi Longstocking?

Amused, her mother mouths, "I'll explain later."

Doctor Raynor sighs, "It is my job to make sure that Svetlana and James are okay. And so, yeah, this may be slightly unprofessional, but it's the only way that I can see if they're getting over whatever's eating at them."

Natasha carefully starts, "But if they're not ready to share—,"

"This is ridiculous," Sam cuts in.

Svet shakes her head, "We do not really need to do this—,"

"Yeah." Bucky quickly adds, "I agree."

"See?" Raynor motions around the interrogation room, "Look at all of you, making progress already. So, who wants to go first?"

Everyone firmly clamps their mouths shut.

"No volunteers? Wow. How surprising." She heaves yet another sigh, flipping open the Barnes' client file, "Okay. We're going to do an exercise. It's something I use with couples when they are trying to figure out what kind of life they wanna build together."

Svetlana giggles and then proceeds to ignore the unamused glances she's receiving from everyone else in the room, blushing a bright pink.

The therapist moves on, "Are any of you familiar with the miracle question?"

"Absolutely not,"

"The what?"

"Of course not."

"Sure."

They all snap around to look at Natasha who has her arms crossed and a singular brow raised.

No one dares contradict her.

"Okay, for those who don't know, it goes like this: suppose that while you're sleeping, a miracle occurs. When you wake up, what is something that you would like to see that would make your life better?"

Answer immediately ready, Bucky clears his throat and takes the lead, "In my miracle, Sam would... Sam would talk less."

The other man snidely cuts in, "Exactly what I was gonna say. Isn't that ironic?"

"Good God," Natasha rolls her eyes over at her daughter, "Have they been like this entire time?"

Svet just nods with wide traumatized eyes.

"You guys are leaving me with no choice!" Doctor Raynor talks over all of them, "It's time for the soul—gazing exercise."

"I like this better."

"Oh, God. He's gonna love this." Sam leans around Bucky to meet Natasha's eye, "Nat, please back me up on this, this is right up his alley, right? He should really enjoy this!"

"I'm going to!" Bucky snarkily chuckles.

Svet groans, dropping her face in her hands.

The therapist ignores them all, "All of you go around. James and Sam, Svetlana and Natasha, two pairs face each other. Get close."

"Let's do it. Let's stare!" Bucky happily agrees, "This is a good exercise. Thanks, Doc."

They all awkwardly begin to shuffle around, legs of metal chairs scraping the concrete, knees uncomfortably knocking, voices arguing left or right.

As they continue to argue and bicker about which way to go, Sam suddenly reaches around, grabs hold of Bucky's chair, and then drags each other closer. At the close and awkward contact, Natasha swiftly turns Svet's face away, covering her eyes with her palm.

"That's a little close!" Bucky's eyes round awkwardly.

"Very." Sam snaps, brows high, "What you wanted, right?"

Natasha rolls her eyes, "You boys about done?"

"Yeah, we're good."

"Done, yeah."

Hand still over her eyes, Svetlana somehow manages to smile a little. Natasha sighs and drops her hand so the mother and daughter share a look as "the boys" proceed to enter yet another staring contest.

"Just blink!" Doctor Raynor irritatedly snaps her fingers between them, "Sweet Jesus."

As Bucky smirks in triumph, Sam huffs.

Their therapist bravely forges on, "All right, we'll go in a circle. Svetlana, you go first."

The girl immediately panics, hurriedly shaking her head as if being asked to be the first to walk the plank into shark infested waters.

"Why don't you tell Natasha why you've resisted making connections?"

Svet's tired morning eyes flash nervously around the room, her voice insistent, "I haven't—,"

Doctor Raynor cuts her off, "Your mother is alive, and now you get a chance to tell her what you've been sharing with me."

Natasha sits forward a little more, gently pressing her knee into Svet's, trying to comfort her in any way that she can. Bucky and Sam are watching her as well, their eyes never judgemental, never expectant. But it's still... difficult. The teen bites her lip and looks down at her hands in her lap, scarred fingers fumbling over her bony knuckles.

There's no way out of this, not if she wants to leave, not if she wants everyone to stop looking at her.

Svetlana lets the words flow out in a slow cautious exhale, "I've not resisted making connections, yes? It's only... it's only that I've been waiting for this for so long. Like... like YA vsyu zhizn' zhdal roditeley..." I've been waiting for my parents all my life...

Bucky's sad eyes flicker away, but Natasha just keeps on looking at her.

Svet's not sure what's worse.

"But sometimes..." Her peach lips purse and she shakes her head, deciding to start again, "All the times, I—I dream about standing on that cliff and I dream about you telling me to let you go, and I'm so grateful and I'm so... I'm angry."

Her mother sharply inhales but never exhales, keeping it all deep inside her, trapping it to keep herself composed and punished.

"Because for twenty—four hours here on earth, I was alone without any of you. And now I don't, I mean, I can't..."

It's hard to breathe, like she has her cannula again, like her lungs are damaged and she can't make them work. She pulls at her grey hoodie, tugging at the collar that suddenly feels too tight. But Natasha sees right through her. She always does.

"Is this why you won't text that boy back?"

"Boy?" Bucky and Sam ask at the same time.

The mother and daughter completely ignore them.

Svetlana has gone very rigid, shoulders rolled back but chin dipped low, "It is not the same,"

"I think it is. I remember how you guys looked at each other. He gave you his number, didn't he? That means something, Svetti."

"That... that didn't matter, Mama." Her shaking hands tuck a stray rebellious lock of hair behind her ear, "It was nothing. Besides, I can't."

She tries to shut down the conversation, but Doctor Raynor doesn't let her, "Why can't you, Svetlana?"

"I just... I can't!" The girl is tearing up now, voice straining, "If I leave, who will do this?!"

Natasha's expression softens and Bucky quietly asks from beside her, "Do what, Lana?"

A strangely blank look comes over Svet's face and her shoulders slump in defeat. Her delicate brows twitch down and she shakes her head, numbly staring at her knees tops.

"Nothing..." Her voice is barely above a whisper, "I'll be okay. I promise it."

They all look away, realizing that she wouldn't want them staring, realizing now that this didn't help at all. It only made things worse. There's nothing else they'll get from her tonight.

"All right. Well, thank you for sharing." With a quiet sigh, Raynor moves from daughter to father, "Now James, your turn. Why does Sam aggravate you?"

Bucky opens his mouth with a snarky grin but Raynor quickly cuts him off.

"And don't say something childish."

Bucky's grin fades, his jaw shifts, and his expression grows more complicated, "Why'd you give up that shield?"

"Oh my God..." Sam blinks quickly up at the ceiling, expression flickering with disbelief, "Why are you making such a big deal out of something that has nothing to do with you?"

"Steve believed in you. He trusted you. He gave you that shield for a reason." Bucky looks at him from across a furrowed brow, voice quiet but slowly building with emotion, "That shield, that is... that is everything he stood for! That is his legacy. He gave you that shield, and you threw it away like it was nothing."

Sam's voice hardens now, "All right, shut up."

"So maybe he was wrong about you!" His voice keeps growing more pained, more desperate as his eyes grow wide and fill with tears and he leans forward to whisper, "And if he was wrong about you, then he was wrong about me!"

Her father falls back into his seat.

Natasha's heavy eyes drift to his collar.

Svetlana's grips onto the corner of his leather jacket. 

They all just sit there.

The tremor in his voice still hanging in the now silent air.

Finally, Sam grits his teeth, "You finished?"

Bucky glances quickly at his girls, swallowing hard, "Yeah."

"All right, good. Maybe this is something you or Steve will never understand. But can you accept that I did what I thought was right?"

Bucky looks down at his laps, digging his teeth into his bottom lip to keep the words from spilling out.

After a moment, Sam lets out a quiet scoff and glances at Raynor, "You know what, Doc? I don't have time for this. We have some real serious sh—t going on. So how about this?" He turns back to Bucky, all eyes on him as he decides, "I will squash it right now. We go deal with that, and when we're done, we both can go on separate, long vacations and never see each other again."

Natasha quietly cuts in, green eyes wide, "Sam—,"

"I like that," Bucky lowly agrees before anything else can be said.

The woman sighs and looks away.

Svet slouches down in her chair.

"Great. Well, let's get to work." Sam agrees tightly, head swiveling towards their therapist with a sardonic grin, "Thanks, Doc, for making it weird! I feel much better. I'll see you guys outside."

Slowly, they all file out of the police station, one—by one, without saying a word to one another. Eventually, the four stand in a line, all awkwardly staring into the cool Baltimore night.

"That went well," Natasha finally breaks the silence with a strained smirk.

"That sucked," Svet grumbles. 

"You thought so?" Sam's brows flick up, "'Cause I feel better."

Bucky murmurs, "I feel awful."

Another siren whoops and Svet really jumps out of her skin. John Walker stands across the parking lot in front of the station; he and Hoskins leaning against a police car with an amused expression on his exposed face.

"Gentlemen..." He raises a hand to wave, "And ladies!"

Their footsteps are reluctant as they carry them closer, boots hitting pavement, muscles already tensing.

Walker changes focus, shoulders rolling back, hands on his belt in a show of casualness, "So... it is the famous Black Widow. Everyone thought you were dead."

"And I'd like to keep it that way." The oldest redhead informs him simply, voice sweet but eyes decidedly not, "Playing dead is much less stress. Good for the skin. You should try it sometime."

Walker scoffs.

It's all all too natural; how they move, knowing each other's body space, sensing each other's movements. There's familiarity, as well as understanding. Bucky's resting against the cop car, Svetlana's leaning into his side, and Natasha's putting hand on her upper back.

"Oh, so this is a thing?" Walker waves a finger between her parents, brows raised and a smirk on his lips.

Neither Natasha or Bucky confirm nor deny.

"Oh, I see..." His eyes then trail to Svetlana, scrutinizing her features, trying to judge what she got from her mother and what she got from her father. When she begins to shift uncomfortably, he makes a face as if he understands everything now, "I get it now, okay. We got a whole little family unit here, that's nice."

Svetlana can't help but feel defensive, squinting, "Do you have a point?"

"Watch the attitude, Svetti." Walker scolds her before looking at the rest of the group, "Look, if we divide ourselves, we don't stand a chance, you guys know that."

"What we know, is that you don't talk to her that way. Not now. Not ever." Natasha replies in a voice so simple, so sharp, it would kill before he even knew he was bleeding, "If you know something, tell us... or we walk."

The fake captain scoffs at the disrespect, shaking his head at her as his tongue rolls along his top teeth. Through a sigh, he informs them, "Well, the leader's name's Karli Morgenthau."

Svet's eyes widen a little, the name sending alarm bells ringing through her mind. The name's familiar... Why is it so familiar?!

"We've been targeting civilians who've been helping Karli move from place to place."

"They geotagged a location, then scrambled the signal." Hoskins adds in, glancing between them, "But our satellites have found their symbol popping up in various displaced communities all across Central and Eastern Europe."

"Mmhm, and we think she's taking the medicine she just stole to one of these camps."

Bucky looks unconcerned, "Well, there are hundreds of those all over the planet since The Blip. So I guess you'll have to look real hard."

"Good thing I have 20/20 vision, huh?"

Svet makes a face.

"Where is she now, Walker?" Bucky rolls his eyes, unable to take another minute of this, "Do you know?!"

The man's voice rises in annoyance, "No, we don't know, Bucky! Only a matter of time before we find out!"

Her father's head slowly tilts and his eyes narrow a bit, mocking, "Things are really intense for you, aren't they, Walker?"

There's a shift in the atmosphere. A change in stance. Everyone looks ready to punce before Natasha and Sam step in.

"Okay, back off—," Natasha stretches out a hand to Walker's chest, pushing him back a little.

"Take it easy." Sam agrees and spreads out his hands, ever the peacemaker, "Look, Walker's right. It is imperative that we find them and stop them. But you guys have rules of engagement and all kinds of authorizations you have to get." They're already walking away by this point, barely glancing back as her uncle continues, "We're free agents. We're more... flexible. So it wouldn't make sense for us to work with you."

It's the strangest thing; how she feels instant relief the moment they've turned their backs on John Walker. The pressure on her sternum fades, the shaking in her hands stills.

But then, a cold voice echoes into the cool night after them.

"A word of advice, then."

His voice is hollow, freezing them in their steps, forcing them to look back.

"Stay the h—ll out of my way."

As they slowly, cautiously go their separate ways, Natasha licks her lips and slowly smirks.

"The h—ll you smiling for?" Bucky grouses.

"Nothing, nothing." She answers nonchalantly, "For a second there, I thought we were all going to have to fake niceties. This is so much better."

Svet cocks her head in confusion, "How so?"

Her mother's smirk is slowly turning to a full blown grin, "I'd much rather have an enemy than a fake ally. It's cleaner."

"Frickin' spies," Sam grumbles.

Natasha only shrugs.

Bucky then gives her an appraising look, raising a brow, "That mean you gonna join us?"

"I think I'm done for the night. You guys have fun playing the heroes. In case you haven't heard, I'm still dead, and also retired."

"You don't have to be," Svet quietly points out.

Natasha's smirk hasn't faded, but now, it looks almost sad, "I came here to check in. Now that I know you're okay, I'm stepping back. Simple as that. So, what's next?"

"Well, I know what we have to do." Bucky replies with a thoughtful drawn—out sigh, "When Isaiah said 'my people'..." 

"Oh, don't take that to heart," Sam interrupts steadily, "That's not what he meant."

"No, he meant HYDRA. HYDRA used to be my people."

It's immediately clear what he means.

"Egh, no!" Svetlana groans, feet skidding to a stop, "Please, let's not!"

Bucky tries to explain, "Walker doesn't have any leads—,"

"James." Natasha interrupts, arms crossing over her chest, "We can all see where you're going with this, and I think I speak for the group when I say it is a terrible idea."

"Well, I appreciate your show of faith, Natalia, but he knows all of HYDRA's secrets. Don't any of you remember Siberia?"

Sam squints at him, "So you're just gonna go sit in a room with this guy?"

"Ye—," Bucky hesitates, clearly not loving the idea himself, "Yes."

"Okay, then." Sam determines with a long reluctant sigh, "We're gonna go see Zemo."

Svetlana groans and drops her head into her hands, "I was really hoping we could avoid that this time."

━━━━━━ annie speaks ━━━━━━

ooooo we are REALLY in it now! natasha roasting john walker is my new favorite thing, so that's really good for me, tbh. svetlana is still super traumatized so that's not so good... but hey, can we just talk about bucky's voice cracked?! my eyes actually filled with tears, ugh, it hurt me every time i rewatched it. will i get over it? no. but life goes on.

now, also, there was something i wanted to address just with this chapter in particular. as i was thinking about how to approach it, i kind of realized that svetlana really wouldn't have any knowledge about prejudice and racism. i'm of the opinion that people aren't born with these prejudices and it's a learned behavior, and because svetlana was literally raised to simply kill and survive, she would have no idea. but also i thought that once they got out, that natasha and bucky would want her informed. anyway, i hope that makes sense.

also, i want to say that i am not a person of color so i know i can never fully understand the pain, but i hope i treated everything with as much respect and love as it deserves.

okay, next chapter: sugar daddy zemo! dudes, svet hates this man so so much, the amount of times she threatens to kill him, yikes. madripoor, here we come!!

on another note: please leave a comment or a vote? xx

and of course, funny thingamabobs:

( disregard that this is totally a screenshot of my phone lol)