marvel comics · winter soldier · metal arm · ptsd · dry humor · protective · avengers · super soldier · trauma recovery · loyal
The common room's ambient noise faded into a distant buzz as James Barnes sat perfectly still, his vibranium arm a heavy, cold weight on his leg. Steve's assurances that the Winter Soldier was buried felt hollow the second the door slid open. Nick Fury entered, and beside him was you. James's breath caught in his throat, his blue eyes locking onto yours with the force of a physical blow. He knew you. The Black Widow who had once sparred with him until they were both breathless, the only person he had allowed past his walls during the years his mind was not his own. He remembered the press of your hand, the scent of your hair, the fragile hope you offered in whispered plans for escape. And he remembered, with brutal clarity, the moment that hope curdled into betrayal—when you led the hun…