"For as long as it takes," she says, dropping her hand to look at him. Her voice rings hollow, even to her own ears. "Maybe the world will forget about me eventually."
Steve doesn't have that luxury, she knows. But he's lived his life in the limelight ever since he took that serum - for her, it's the exact opposite. To say it's been difficult to adjust is an understatement of epic proportions.
"Nobody wants a superhero on their team with a history like mine, anyway," she adds. "I'll just make them look bad now it's all out in the open. After all, who's to say I won't go ahead and betray the lot of you?" The question is a challenge, posed with raised eyebrows. Do they still trust her, after everything? Does he?
He stares at her in disbelief. "I know for a fact that you've read every single one of our files, even wrote assessments for a few. You know better than anyone the kind of histories on this team."
Bruce had been right to call them a time bomb back then. They aren't any more stable now, or the most trusting, but there is a certain level of understanding between them that Steve finds to be a relief.
And betrayal? To who, he wants to ask, because she wouldn't be out here alone if she had anyone left to betray them to, but that seems needlessly cruel. He remembers the tiny silver arrow necklace she wore and the look on her face when she asked if he would trust her to save his life.
"As for who's to say, me, for one. I think I can speak for Clint, too."
"I've already spoken to Clint," she says coldly, reaching up to touch the necklace almost on reflex, then jerking her hand away at the last minute. She's lifting the gun again, sitting up to gesture with it at the door. "You have no idea what you're talking about. You should go."
But then, as his words come together in her mind like pieces of a puzzle, realization dawns, and Natasha frowns. "You haven't read my file yet, have you? The leaked one?" She shakes her head, laughs bitterly. "You really do have no idea. God, Rogers. The things I've done. You wouldn't sleep for a week if you knew."
She feels like shooting him, like crying and throwing herself into his arms, like tearing her hair out and running all at once. It's not a nice feeling. She wishes he'd never come here. She wishes he'd come earlier. Either way...she doesn't know what to do, now.
"Haven't been sleepin' much anyway," he mutters. It isn't fair to compare her to Bucky, to wonder if what she's talking about is worse than the file she gave him about the Winter Soldier and what Steve has learned about him since then. She's right in that he hasn't read the full extent of what is out there about her, but if she thinks that will make him change his mind about her completely, then she doesn't know him as well as she thinks.
There's no point in telling her, though. Natasha appeared to have convinced herself that she was beyond redemption, and nothing he said was going to change that.
Steve eyes her wearily for a moment before giving a short nod in acquiescence. "If you really want me to go, I will. Just know there's a place for you, if you want it." He gets to to his feet, the squeak of mattress springs loud in the stillness of the room, and hesitates. The idea of walking out and leaving her here still doesn't sit right with him
"Wait," she calls tiredly, almost at the same moment as his hesitation. She sighs, standing up abruptly and tucking the gun into the back of her waistband. "Let's...go get some coffee or something. For old time's sake."
She shouldn't leave herself open like this, she knows. But Steve's always had an annoying habit of being able to disarm her - both figuratively and literally now, it seems. And she's missed that. She's missed working with him, joking with him, dodging bullets with him. Well, maybe not as much the last part, but on some level, she's glad he's here and she doesn't want him to leave yet.
Maybe, subconsciously, she really just wants him to convince her to come back.
One of the more fun parts of his introduction to the twenty first century had been trying the bewildering array of coffee they had nowadays with Natasha. It doesn't really do anything for Steve any more, but he still likes the taste, and she had introduced all sorts of interesting flavours. Between all the missions together and her talking to him like he was a regular person instead of Captain America, they had become friends.
"All right." He tries not to look to hopeful, stepping aside to let her lead the way.
It's even colder outside than it had been when Steve arrived. After three years out of the ice, he should be over it, but it bothers him. He pulls out a pair of gloves from the pocket of his jacket and tugs them on, shooting a glance at Natasha to see how she's doing in her hoodie.
She nods, stalking out of the apartment. Her shoulders are rounded, a defeated slump to her posture. She's tired, and it shows. There's only so much running even she can do.
She barely seems to notice the cold as her boots crunch over the icy asphalt. She grew up in Russia, and the winters there could freeze birds mid-flight. This is nothing. She supposes Steve might have a harder time of it, having been on ice for so long, but she makes no comment to draw attention to it. She usually would. But she's not sure where she stands with him now. Especially after the less-than-pleasant reception.
Natasha's starting to feel a little bad about that.
"There's a diner just down the road," she says. "The coffee is terrible, but it's strong. And hot."
The coffee turns out to be not unlike the stuff he had spent most of his life drinking. He sips it, enjoying the familiar taste and grateful for the way it warms him almost immediately. "It's good," he murmurs.
There aren't many people in the diner at this time of day; a sleepy looking waitress wiping down tables, an old man absorbed in a newspaper, a few people sitting at the counter watching television. It's on a news channel, some report about a factory closing down that Steve listens to for a few seconds before deciding it's not important.
It takes Natasha ten seconds to take in the diner and the people inside and decide it's safe, for now. It's an odd habit to have - tactically evaluating every single room you walk into, but it's been ingrained into her for so many years now that she doesn't even notice she does it.
"This is starting to sound like a date," she says, a faint, familiar smile on her lips. It's strange how easy it is to fall back into their old pattern of banter. Reminds her a little of how things used to be with Clint, before things got too emotionally charged between them.
But things haven't changed between her and Steve. Not really. Things have changed between her and SHIELD, her and the Avengers, her and America. But it's comforting to know she can still fall back into old routines with him, at least.
Steve waves down the waitress and orders what seems like half the menu. He has a metabolism to keep up with and Natasha looks like she could use a few hot meals, though he knows better than to say that out loud.
"Is it?" He smiles back wryly, taking another sip of coffee. "Never did see Sharon again, so I guess you'll have to stand in."
None of the Avengers expect him to come back with her. A fool's errand for a restless soldier, another ghost for him to chase. But she's the one who told him wait, so maybe it's not completely a lost cause.
"I heard she got reassigned. Should've gone for the girl in Statistics." The coffee tastes like dirt but by the time Steve orders food she's on her second cup. She's been living off the stuff lately, more than anything else. Coffee and regrets. Surprisingly potent fuel for self-imposed exile.
Natasha lulls into silence then, because she's not sure they have much common ground besides SHIELD and Steve's love life and she doesn't feel like delving any deeper into either. The banter is the same but they desperately need new content.
Well. There is one question she wants to know the answer to.
"Did you find him?" The non-sequitur might be jarring, but she's fairly certain Steve will pick up on what - or rather, who - she's talking about pretty quickly.
His gaze had been drifting around the diner but returns to her sharply at the question.
Before he had come out here to find Natasha, Sam had cornered him and asked if this was about their - he called it their, but it was Steve's, really - failure to bring Bucky home. He hadn't been able to give a straight answer.
"Yeah," he replies, voice hollow. "He didn't want to be found."
Not unlike her. The similarities are jarring if he thinks about them, and he really doesn't want to. He doesn't want to talk about this at all.
"I told you." But there's no smugness in her response - just a resigned, vague sort of sadness. She knew well what her old people could, would have done to Bucky. But telling Steve wouldn't have worked - he likely wouldn't have believed her - he had to see it for himself.
Still. She feels badly for him.
"So it's back to basics for you then." The waitress delivers several plates worth of food; Natasha picks disinterestedly at a bowl of fries. "Back to saving the world."
Steve bristles a little at that, but it's not like she's rubbing it in. Just saying what was true.
"Sure," he replies with a humorless smile. "'Cut off one head' and all that." It will be a long time before they discover the full extent of Hydra's reach, and it's more personal than ever now. Steve may never get Bucky back, but he will hunt them until his dying breath for what they've done.
The TV drones on in the background as he starts on the food, eating slowly and methodically. About halfway through, his phone buzzes in his pocket. Steve wipes his hand on a napkin and swipes it open, feeling a little apprehensive, relaxing when he sees who it's from.
"Sam sends his regards." He also mentions Steve being needed back at the Tower, but it can't be urgent or Hill would have arranged for an extraction
Natasha loses interest in the food pretty quickly - instead she props her chin on her hand, elbow on the table as she regards Steve with her disconcertingly full attention. Raising an eyebrow as he brings out his phone, she says nothing for a full thirty seconds.
"It's not just HYDRA you're fighting now, is it?" She sits back, drumming her fingers absently on the edge of the table.
"How bad is it, Steve? Be honest with me." God knows she's never been fully honest with him, but he's a bad liar. It's painful when he tries; she'd prefer to avoid the headache.
"Bad," he says simply, because there's no point in being dishonest. "A lot of things have started crawling out of the woodwork." Not to mention the amount of red tape involved if the Avengers want to run themselves, especially considering their previous affiliation with SHIELD.
"We can't do as much as we'd like. What we can might not be enough."
Natasha's skill set would be more than a little useful, they both know that. Steve considers asking her one more time, but it might ruin whatever had prompted her to stop him leaving. He returns to his food instead and waits to see what she has to say to such vague information.
"And you're not going to tell me anything more about it unless I come back." Not a question. She reaches for her coffee; it's cold, but she takes a long drag from the mug anyway.
"You've picked up tips from Fury." Her eyes don't leave Steve's face. "Is he involved yet?"
And this may be the question that brings her back. Natasha knows she wouldn't have hesitated if the former Director himself came after her, but she also knows he wouldn't have been able to even if he wanted to. Steve's close in her circle of trust, but Fury is the epicenter of it.
"Hill won't confirm or deny that she's in contact with him, but we do have an unusually good overview of what's going in Europe."
Steve will never develop a taste for subterfuge, but he does understand the need for it from time to time. He's learned a lot from Nick Fury; respects the man for what he does, even though they don't agree on methods.
He meets Natasha's gaze steadily. "Would you come back if he was?"
Tellingly, she looks away after a few seconds. She'd thought Fury retired. How ill-informed she turned out to be. She wonders if she would've left had she known what Steve knows, and feels a bit bitter that she didn't know until now. But she'd sworn off this kind of life when she'd left...A mistake, considering this kind of life is all she has ever known.
"Yes," she says, sounding faintly surprised at her own answer. "But I think I'm going to come back regardless. I think we both knew that when I walked in the door." She sighs, resignedly, and finally meets Steve's gaze with a small smile on her lips. Probably the first genuine one she's managed in months.
Steve smiles back. "This wasn't some well thought out plan to bring you back, but I'm glad you think so."
They would be happy to have her back, of course. Stark had put a lot of thought into the tower redesign, and there had been quarters set aside for her from the beginning. Probably a new suit and upgraded weaponry as well, if what Clint had been greeted with was any indication. He looks forward to seeing her realize that she's not just needed on the team, but wanted too.
He polishes off the rest of the food and goes to the counter to pay. One of the people watching TV glances at him, a little too deliberate to be just an offhand look. Haircut and scruff or no, Steve's face had been splashed all over the news after SHIELD. He's not that hard to recognize if someone knows what to look for. They don't seem hostile, but he's not going to take that chance.
"Time to go," he says to Natasha as he returns to their table.
"I was wondering when you'd notice that guy," she says in a low voice as Steve returns. "He's been watching us this whole time."
For the moment, more immediate worries have eclipsed her anxiety about returning. Worries that have her gripping her Glock underneath her coat. She rises to her feet, letting go of it briefly to make her way with Steve to the door. The guy getting up to nonchalantly follow them doesn't escape her notice.
"How do you want to play this?" she asks Steve quietly out of the corner of her mouth. "I've had to put down a few interested parties these last couple of months, but if I know you, you'll be preferring something bloodless." She can still break a man's kneecaps without bullets, though.
"If possible," Steve agrees, setting a brisk pace down the road.
There are people around, too many witnesses for their tail to try anything, though if taking them out had been the objective, they wouldn't have been able to leave the diner so easily. Now it's just a question of who they are and what they want from either Natasha or himself.
The list of people wanting to track them is long, ranging from HYDRA to the government, or worse, the media. Their interest in the Avengers had never really died down after New York and had only spiked after the hearings.
"I'm thinking we can go get your stuff, and then have a chat with him on the way out of town."
"Fine." It's ambiguous enough - 'chat' can mean anything from 'talk' to 'breaking kneecaps'. She's done some of that since she left civilization. HYDRA had tailed her out of the city and she'd played a cat-and-mouse game with them for weeks before massacring them all. She knows she should probably feel guilty about that, but she doesn't. And she's not likely to speak to Steve about it, either.
There's a deep frown on her brow as she walks, tension in her shoulders, her hand always lurking close to her waistband under her coat. But she's silent until they get back to her motel room, and then it's a flurry of motion - throwing things into bags - mostly weapons, a couple of changes of clothes, a necklace she grabs from the bedside table.
"There's an alley next to the motel," she says to Steve as she shoulders her backpack. "Shortcut?" Her smile is shadowed, not a pleasant expression at all.
Not for the first time, Steve is grateful that Natasha isn't an enemy.
He nods, missing the feeling of the shield on his arm. He had left it in the car he'd arrived in, parked a few blocks away from the motel. It was too conspicuous to carry around even in the portfolio bag Steve used to hide it when he was off-duty.
She does, in silence, her shoulders tense and her movements suddenly precise, deliberate, like a coiled wire rests just under her skin. She won't ever admit it but she lives for moments like this. There have been a few since she left, but not enough. She needs the life, whether she can admit that to herself or not.
They reach the motel room, and it only takes Natasha five minutes to throw everything she owns in a backpack. Then she turns to Steve and gives him a nod. She's ready.
Their tail had been doing a terrible job of looking nonchalant, lingering across the road as Steve exits the motel and goes into the alley where Natasha will be waiting.
The man follows, of course, and finds himself pinned against a wall within seconds.
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boxedmuses2014-09-12 05:50 pm
no subject
Steve doesn't have that luxury, she knows. But he's lived his life in the limelight ever since he took that serum - for her, it's the exact opposite. To say it's been difficult to adjust is an understatement of epic proportions.
"Nobody wants a superhero on their team with a history like mine, anyway," she adds. "I'll just make them look bad now it's all out in the open. After all, who's to say I won't go ahead and betray the lot of you?" The question is a challenge, posed with raised eyebrows. Do they still trust her, after everything? Does he?
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Bruce had been right to call them a time bomb back then. They aren't any more stable now, or the most trusting, but there is a certain level of understanding between them that Steve finds to be a relief.
And betrayal? To who, he wants to ask, because she wouldn't be out here alone if she had anyone left to betray them to, but that seems needlessly cruel. He remembers the tiny silver arrow necklace she wore and the look on her face when she asked if he would trust her to save his life.
"As for who's to say, me, for one. I think I can speak for Clint, too."
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But then, as his words come together in her mind like pieces of a puzzle, realization dawns, and Natasha frowns. "You haven't read my file yet, have you? The leaked one?" She shakes her head, laughs bitterly. "You really do have no idea. God, Rogers. The things I've done. You wouldn't sleep for a week if you knew."
She feels like shooting him, like crying and throwing herself into his arms, like tearing her hair out and running all at once. It's not a nice feeling. She wishes he'd never come here. She wishes he'd come earlier. Either way...she doesn't know what to do, now.
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There's no point in telling her, though. Natasha appeared to have convinced herself that she was beyond redemption, and nothing he said was going to change that.
Steve eyes her wearily for a moment before giving a short nod in acquiescence. "If you really want me to go, I will. Just know there's a place for you, if you want it." He gets to to his feet, the squeak of mattress springs loud in the stillness of the room, and hesitates. The idea of walking out and leaving her here still doesn't sit right with him
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She shouldn't leave herself open like this, she knows. But Steve's always had an annoying habit of being able to disarm her - both figuratively and literally now, it seems. And she's missed that. She's missed working with him, joking with him, dodging bullets with him. Well, maybe not as much the last part, but on some level, she's glad he's here and she doesn't want him to leave yet.
Maybe, subconsciously, she really just wants him to convince her to come back.
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One of the more fun parts of his introduction to the twenty first century had been trying the bewildering array of coffee they had nowadays with Natasha. It doesn't really do anything for Steve any more, but he still likes the taste, and she had introduced all sorts of interesting flavours. Between all the missions together and her talking to him like he was a regular person instead of Captain America, they had become friends.
"All right." He tries not to look to hopeful, stepping aside to let her lead the way.
It's even colder outside than it had been when Steve arrived. After three years out of the ice, he should be over it, but it bothers him. He pulls out a pair of gloves from the pocket of his jacket and tugs them on, shooting a glance at Natasha to see how she's doing in her hoodie.
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She barely seems to notice the cold as her boots crunch over the icy asphalt. She grew up in Russia, and the winters there could freeze birds mid-flight. This is nothing. She supposes Steve might have a harder time of it, having been on ice for so long, but she makes no comment to draw attention to it. She usually would. But she's not sure where she stands with him now. Especially after the less-than-pleasant reception.
Natasha's starting to feel a little bad about that.
"There's a diner just down the road," she says. "The coffee is terrible, but it's strong. And hot."
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There aren't many people in the diner at this time of day; a sleepy looking waitress wiping down tables, an old man absorbed in a newspaper, a few people sitting at the counter watching television. It's on a news channel, some report about a factory closing down that Steve listens to for a few seconds before deciding it's not important.
"You wanna get something to eat too?"
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"This is starting to sound like a date," she says, a faint, familiar smile on her lips. It's strange how easy it is to fall back into their old pattern of banter. Reminds her a little of how things used to be with Clint, before things got too emotionally charged between them.
But things haven't changed between her and Steve. Not really. Things have changed between her and SHIELD, her and the Avengers, her and America. But it's comforting to know she can still fall back into old routines with him, at least.
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"Is it?" He smiles back wryly, taking another sip of coffee. "Never did see Sharon again, so I guess you'll have to stand in."
None of the Avengers expect him to come back with her. A fool's errand for a restless soldier, another ghost for him to chase. But she's the one who told him wait, so maybe it's not completely a lost cause.
no subject
Natasha lulls into silence then, because she's not sure they have much common ground besides SHIELD and Steve's love life and she doesn't feel like delving any deeper into either. The banter is the same but they desperately need new content.
Well. There is one question she wants to know the answer to.
"Did you find him?" The non-sequitur might be jarring, but she's fairly certain Steve will pick up on what - or rather, who - she's talking about pretty quickly.
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Before he had come out here to find Natasha, Sam had cornered him and asked if this was about their - he called it their, but it was Steve's, really - failure to bring Bucky home. He hadn't been able to give a straight answer.
"Yeah," he replies, voice hollow. "He didn't want to be found."
Not unlike her. The similarities are jarring if he thinks about them, and he really doesn't want to. He doesn't want to talk about this at all.
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Still. She feels badly for him.
"So it's back to basics for you then." The waitress delivers several plates worth of food; Natasha picks disinterestedly at a bowl of fries. "Back to saving the world."
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"Sure," he replies with a humorless smile. "'Cut off one head' and all that." It will be a long time before they discover the full extent of Hydra's reach, and it's more personal than ever now. Steve may never get Bucky back, but he will hunt them until his dying breath for what they've done.
The TV drones on in the background as he starts on the food, eating slowly and methodically. About halfway through, his phone buzzes in his pocket. Steve wipes his hand on a napkin and swipes it open, feeling a little apprehensive, relaxing when he sees who it's from.
"Sam sends his regards." He also mentions Steve being needed back at the Tower, but it can't be urgent or Hill would have arranged for an extraction
no subject
"It's not just HYDRA you're fighting now, is it?" She sits back, drumming her fingers absently on the edge of the table.
"How bad is it, Steve? Be honest with me." God knows she's never been fully honest with him, but he's a bad liar. It's painful when he tries; she'd prefer to avoid the headache.
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"We can't do as much as we'd like. What we can might not be enough."
Natasha's skill set would be more than a little useful, they both know that. Steve considers asking her one more time, but it might ruin whatever had prompted her to stop him leaving. He returns to his food instead and waits to see what she has to say to such vague information.
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"You've picked up tips from Fury." Her eyes don't leave Steve's face. "Is he involved yet?"
And this may be the question that brings her back. Natasha knows she wouldn't have hesitated if the former Director himself came after her, but she also knows he wouldn't have been able to even if he wanted to. Steve's close in her circle of trust, but Fury is the epicenter of it.
no subject
Steve will never develop a taste for subterfuge, but he does understand the need for it from time to time. He's learned a lot from Nick Fury; respects the man for what he does, even though they don't agree on methods.
He meets Natasha's gaze steadily. "Would you come back if he was?"
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"Yes," she says, sounding faintly surprised at her own answer. "But I think I'm going to come back regardless. I think we both knew that when I walked in the door." She sighs, resignedly, and finally meets Steve's gaze with a small smile on her lips. Probably the first genuine one she's managed in months.
"They were smart, sending you to retrieve me."
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They would be happy to have her back, of course. Stark had put a lot of thought into the tower redesign, and there had been quarters set aside for her from the beginning. Probably a new suit and upgraded weaponry as well, if what Clint had been greeted with was any indication. He looks forward to seeing her realize that she's not just needed on the team, but wanted too.
He polishes off the rest of the food and goes to the counter to pay. One of the people watching TV glances at him, a little too deliberate to be just an offhand look. Haircut and scruff or no, Steve's face had been splashed all over the news after SHIELD. He's not that hard to recognize if someone knows what to look for. They don't seem hostile, but he's not going to take that chance.
"Time to go," he says to Natasha as he returns to their table.
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For the moment, more immediate worries have eclipsed her anxiety about returning. Worries that have her gripping her Glock underneath her coat. She rises to her feet, letting go of it briefly to make her way with Steve to the door. The guy getting up to nonchalantly follow them doesn't escape her notice.
"How do you want to play this?" she asks Steve quietly out of the corner of her mouth. "I've had to put down a few interested parties these last couple of months, but if I know you, you'll be preferring something bloodless." She can still break a man's kneecaps without bullets, though.
no subject
There are people around, too many witnesses for their tail to try anything, though if taking them out had been the objective, they wouldn't have been able to leave the diner so easily. Now it's just a question of who they are and what they want from either Natasha or himself.
The list of people wanting to track them is long, ranging from HYDRA to the government, or worse, the media. Their interest in the Avengers had never really died down after New York and had only spiked after the hearings.
"I'm thinking we can go get your stuff, and then have a chat with him on the way out of town."
no subject
There's a deep frown on her brow as she walks, tension in her shoulders, her hand always lurking close to her waistband under her coat. But she's silent until they get back to her motel room, and then it's a flurry of motion - throwing things into bags - mostly weapons, a couple of changes of clothes, a necklace she grabs from the bedside table.
"There's an alley next to the motel," she says to Steve as she shoulders her backpack. "Shortcut?" Her smile is shadowed, not a pleasant expression at all.
no subject
He nods, missing the feeling of the shield on his arm. He had left it in the car he'd arrived in, parked a few blocks away from the motel. It was too conspicuous to carry around even in the portfolio bag Steve used to hide it when he was off-duty.
"Lead the way."
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They reach the motel room, and it only takes Natasha five minutes to throw everything she owns in a backpack. Then she turns to Steve and gives him a nod. She's ready.
no subject
The man follows, of course, and finds himself pinned against a wall within seconds.
"Can we help you?" Steve asks lightly.