A/N: I wrote this for BuckyNat/Staron appreciation month, and I'll be posting a chapter a day! Chapter titles from Cloud Riders by Tori Amos

Standing Down the Edge of the Cliff

CAPTAIN AMERICA, DEAD?

Natasha Romanoff smirked at the tabloid cover. There were grainy photos of Steve, obviously from a few years back. The news cycle had moved on for the most part, and only the least reputable publications were still talking about what happened in Berlin all those months ago. The world was a tumultuous place and there were other, more pressing things to shout at the general public. Still, the fact that Tony Stark was known to be in possession of Cap's shield, and Cap had not been seen since then was suspicious.

If Steve were dead, she would know about it, she was certain. Her sources would have told her. Well, Rhodey would have. She'd been in contact with him for years, helping him keep an eye on their occasionally self-destructive friend. Even now, with all the increased security, she knew how to get ahold of him. Not that she would spend one of her precious opportunities to check on him by asking about Steve.

It had taken months for him to coax something out of Tony about what happened after he'd left the hospital, and even longer for Rhodey to pass some of the information along to her unprompted. What she knew was that it had been Zemo's plan all along, and T'Challa had brought him in. Steve and Tony had fought, Steve protecting Barnes and no one sure of how far Tony might have gone if given the chance. Even Tony, Natasha was willing to bet. But Steve had won, if you could call it that, and they had disappeared. An injured Tony had returned to the Avengers' compound to nurse his wounds and refuse comment to any news source.

Smiling politely at the cashier, Natasha paid for her groceries and turned her focus back to her surroundings. She'd gone underground immediately after the fight in Berlin, and had stayed there. The tabloids questioned her whereabouts sometimes, too, bringing up what she had done in previous lives. It almost made her smile to see their poor guesses, based on the 'facts' from the SHIELD databases. Not that there wasn't far more truth to those files than she would have preferred, but some things, especially important people from her past, were best left hidden.

Like her. She had fled to a cabin in the woods of the Rocky Mountains, correctly predicting that most people would expect her to return to her Russian roots. But she had gone to ground more than once since leaving that country, and it was easy to get lost out here. People tended to keep to themselves, which was an appreciated trait in her neighbors. So it remained her home base even as she continued to do what work she could find.

After restocking her cabin, she was just about to make dinner when she got a message. Not a call – she never received calls because background noise could give away too much information as to her whereabouts, not to mention the minimal number of cell towers in her area. It was on her computer, which used various dummy IP addresses and felt safe enough to use despite her desire to remain off the grid.

The request was for protection on a trip across the Black Sea. It was unclear whether she was protecting a person or some kind of tech, but the fee was sufficient without being large enough to cause suspicion. So she put what she could in the freezer and went to pack.

When she arrived in Istanbul, she was dressed like a local and went to the designated shop to await her contact. The man was younger than she expected and seemed rather nervous.

"Miss Tilki?" he asked hesitantly, trying to get a better look at her despite her sunglasses and scarf.

She smiled at him. "Is it just you, then, Mr. Aksoy?"

When he nodded, she turned and began to walk slowly toward the wharf, taking her time to do (or, at least, appear to do) some shopping as they walked. He fell into step beside her, fidgeting with his shirt whenever she stopped. No one paid them any attention, however, so she ignored his obvious distress. He was paying for her expertise, after all.

After nearly an hour, they reached the pier. He hadn't said a word since her name, though she had chatted amicably with several shop owners and passersby. She was not looking forward to having nothing but his company once they got to the boat, to which he pointed silently. It was a large ferry, already packed with cargo and didn't seem particularly intended for human passengers.

Her Turkish wasn't the best, so Mr. Aksoy finally spoke to make sure they had rooms waiting for them on board. The young woman who worked for the ferry company evidently confirmed this and called for a man to escort them to their cabins. Natasha didn't say anything, concerned with blowing their cover, and simply smiled at everyone involved.

"Well, that was easy," she said once they were alone.

He shrugged, unconvinced, not looking at her. "Our papers were in order enough to leave Turkey. We will see if they are acceptable enough to enter Ukraine."

Raising an eyebrow, Natasha sat down on the single chair in her room while Mr. Aksoy lingered in the hallway. "My papers are always in order," she stated blandly.

Something in her tone must have startled him, because he looked up sharply before smiling at her weakly. "Forgive me, Miss Tilki," he said quietly. "I forgot that you do this kind of thing all the time."

If he were a more forthcoming client, she probably would have joked with him about that. Instead, she returned his smile with one more convincing and suggested he go lay down in his cabin. He immediately took her up on that offer and shut her door as he left. She waited, listening, to be sure his door was shut as well. Then she let herself relax just a little.

As far as she could tell, there was no reason for her presence on this little adventure of his. If they were stopped when entering Ukraine, there wasn't much she could do about it then. If he feared some kind of attack on the ferry, perhaps he shouldn't have gotten them separate rooms. All in all, things were less than ideal.

She reasoned that her jobs in the last six months had all been of a more dubious nature than anything she'd done in a very long time. Since she had last been on her own, before joining SHIELD, she supposed. Things were rough without an intelligence agency backing her. So if some strange man felt he needed an escort to go from one country to another, she wasn't going to argue as long as she was getting paid.

It was a long trip across the sea, and she checked on Mr. Aksoy as often as he would allow. Mostly he stayed holed up in his cabin, despite her suggestions that they go on deck. After a while, she gave up and let him stay there – it was easier to keep track of him that way in any case. Foresight had compelled her to bring a book, so she spent most of her time sitting in the hallway between their two cabins, reading.

The ferry landed in Chornomorsk the next day, and Natasha escorted a still-nervous Mr. Aksoy to shore. His fears on not being allowed to enter were groundless and they were soon free to explore the town.

"Well, it's been a pleasure," she began.

"We're not done," he said quickly, looking afraid.

She frowned. "The job was to escort you across the sea, which I have."

Shaking his head, he took a step back from her. "That wasn'tâ€Ĥ that wasn't it, Miss Tilki. I need a ride to Kurhan."

Arguing with him proved to be fruitless, so she eventually gave in and went in search of a place to rent a car. He was silent and unhelpful again, even as she selected a car and they started driving. It wouldn't take too long to get to Kurhan and then she supposed she'd head to Odessa to get a flight home. That had been her plan before anyway and hopefully this little detour wouldn't cause too much of a delay.

It was easy to get lost in thought as she drove north and then west. Mr. Aksoy continued to be an uninteresting travel companion, and the road had less and less traffic as they went along. Until a sickeningly familiar sound broke her concentration and it took an effort to keep control of the vehicle. A tire had been shot out, she just had time to think before the sound repeated, but this time it was accompanied by glass shattering – the back windshield.

Mr. Aksoy was shouting something, which she ignored as she accelerated, despite the unevenness of the ride. Clearly, she was going to have some questions to put to Mr. Aksoy before she let him out of her sight. So she'd probably have to shield him with her body and hope no one shot through her again.