Chapter One

Sticks in the DNA.

The words kept haunting her. When Tony had initially said them they had stung, yeah, but she was more concerned that perhaps she had made the wrong decision. Half of the team was locked away and the other half was in complete disorder. Already she could see everything turning against them; Secretary Ross unearthed his true colors when he locked away her friends in an underwater prison.

She prides herself on being able to read people. How did she not see through that manipulative son of a bitch?

They're coming for you.

I'm not the one that needs to watch their back.

No, they would have to find her first.

Her hair is still red, but she was styling it different. She had let it grow out enough that she could pull it into a messy bun on top of her head and cut her bangs so that they sat against her forehead and tickled her eyelashes. Her wardrobe in this town consisted of thin hoodies and skinny jeans—perfect for the season.

Natasha was lying low in North Carolina. Other than her communicating back and forth with Clint, her life was pretty mundane. She was staying in a divvy motel, and the pool wasn't even open anymore. The leaves on the trees were beginning to shift from green to vibrant yellows and oranges and reds. She spent her days in coffee shops, reading the news.

She couldn't sleep at night. At best, she'd get three hours in. Some days she never fell asleep at all.

Sticks in the DNA.

Natasha sighed.

To calm her twitching nerves at night, she would follow shifty figures around town. Sometimes they'd cause trouble, sometimes they wouldn't. Natasha never thought 'hindering house burglaries' or 'retrieving stolen purses' would become pastimes of hers, but here she was. With a bandana over her mouth and nose, no less.

The current thug she was dealing with felt pretty powerful because he had a knife in his hand. She rolled her eyes. He was holding it wrong. Also, he was drunk. He wouldn't've stood a chance sober, but he was seriously only making things easier for her. She had let the goon corner her into a dark alley—away from civilians and any witnesses who may begin to suspect she was more than just a tourist.

"Didn't your mother teach you not to assault people?" Natasha asked with a quirked eyebrow, "Especially women." He was about to learn his lesson the hard way—not only did the man assault a helpless woman right in front of her mere minutes ago, but now was attempting to assault her.

The man roared and swung at her with the knife in a wide arc. She easily dodged the attack and kicked the knife out of his hand. He gaped at the fallen weapon, now far out of his reach. She surged forward with successive jabs to his chest and abdomen. The man staggered backwards and she snapped her elbow forward to meet his face. He fell backwards into a pile of garbage and didn't get back up.

Her phone beeped. It was Clint.

What's your current situation?

Natasha snapped a selfie with the knocked out asshole and sent it to Clint.

Seconds later Clint was calling her. She slipped the bandana down.

"Hey." She said, walking out of the alleyway and sliding out onto Main Street where the only light came from lampposts and the blinking neon 'open' signs on the many bars in this town. She smoothed back her hair and readjusted her hoodie.

"Natasha, I have some information on Ross."

"Last time you called me about Ross it was to tell me what a dick he is."

"And? That's important information."

"And obvious information. The man can't be trusted, even Tony is beginning to see it. Do you have anything useful to tell me this time around?" Natasha walked down the street a few more paces until she arrived at the motorcycle she'd stolen in New York. She straddled it, prepared to leave this town as soon as her conversation with Clint ended. Her duffle bag full of her supplies was strapped securely to the back of the bike.

"Ross was the head of the Gamma Bomb Project—"

"—in 2003 when Bruce turned into the Hulk. The entire world is aware of this."

"Yes, but his patterns following Bruce's initial transformation border obsessiveness. Banner was working in a bottle factory in Rio—cut off from the world, doing no harm, and learning to meditate like some damned monk. Ross sent a SWAT team after him and was the cause of many Hulk transformations, and why? Because he didn't like that Bruce had a thing for his daughter? I don't think so."

"Bruce's power intimidated him; he wanted it to be in check."

"Bruce had it in check. Ross wanted to weaponize him."

Natasha stiffened.

"Send your information to Tony." She paused for a moment, "And Steve."

"Will do. Nat?"

"Yeah?"

"Look out for the team?"

"What exactly do you think this conversation has been about?" She ignored the fact that they could hardly call themselves a team anymore.

"The team includes you, Nat."

Natasha rolled her eyes, but smiled.

"I'm a big girl, Clint. I take care of myself just fine. Tell Laura and the kids that I miss them."

"Sure thing."

Natasha hung up the phone, stuck her head into her motorcycle helmet, and sped away.

She drove until she made it to Missouri and found the first small town with a motel. She showered immediately and then settled in for the night.

She woke up to the sound of her phone ringing. Confused, she reached for it. Clint shouldn't be calling her so soon and Fury only called her when he was in deep shit. She flicked her eyes across the screen—it was a number that she didn't recognize. She was wary of numbers that she didn't recognize. But the only people who could have possibly come across her number would have had to get it through Clint or Nick. She glanced again at her phone; it was November 11th and 8:07 a.m. and the high for the day was 59 degrees.

She swiped across the green.

"Hello?" She asked, guarded.

"Natasha?"

"Steve?"

There was a heavy sigh; he sounded relieved.

"Why are you calling me, Steve? Did Clint give you my number?" She was growing annoyed at how good of friends Steve and Clint were becoming. Their antics usually led to headaches for all involved.

"He might have." He responded, not answering her first question. "But how are you, Nat? You're safe, right?" Natasha remained silent. "Right. You can take of yourself. I was only wondering. Clint told me about Ross and Bruce."

"And what do you think about it?"

"If Ross's intentions were to weaponize the Hulk, then my worry for the Avengers just tripled." He sighed again, "Natasha, I need your help."

She didn't like the tone of voice he was using. It was his tactical voice. His Captain America voice. And Captain America was a fugitive; and so was she. "No." She told him, emphatically.

"You haven't even heard me out." He sounded dejected, but unsurprised.

"I don't need to. I know you."

"Yes." He agreed, "You do. And you know that I won't stop. Not when something needs to be done and I'm the only one who can do it." He sighed again, this time with a hint of sadness, "But I can't punch my way through this one. I need your help."

She went through a mental list of people with the same skillset as herself. It was unhelpfully short. "Clint can help with whatever it is. Or T'Challa."

"Clint has a family to watch over. T'Challa is busy with a kingdom."

Natasha sat up on the bed and tossed her legs over the side until they hit the ground. She got up and went towards the bathroom. Just as she was walking past the kitchenette, there was a loud thump from upstairs—someone in the floor above her must have dropped something.

"What does this have to do with Clint's tip?"

"Ross wants leverage over us all. And what for?"

"To weaponize us," Natasha supplied, pieces slowly being put together.

"Exactly." There was a moment where Steve was silent over the line of the phone; Natasha even checked to see if their call was lost. But then Steve began to speak again, "He's already manipulating Tony and, by extension, Vision. But who do you think he'll go after next?"

"The next easiest to be manipulated."

"Bucky."

"Bucky." She agreed. "But he's safe with T'Challa. Ross can't get to him."

"Bucky won't be stuck on ice forever, Nat." His voiced sounded strained. "He made the decision to sleep so as to not bring harm to anyone's lives while his mind is so vulnerable. I need to find out how to remove HYDRA's programming before Ross can get his clutches on him. Natasha. I trust you the most. Please."

Natasha stared at herself in the mirror. She looked more like a persona than herself and she wondered what she ever did to earn Steve's trust. She pressed the speaker button and put the phone on the counter. She started running the bath at the hottest temperature, needing to relax.

"Steve," She said, pulling her hair up into a ponytail, "What you're asking will not only put you and I at risk, but all of the Avengers. Tony and Rhodey and Vision. Ross has them at duress. And the manhunt for Wanda and Clint and Sam and Lang will be driven forward in full force."

"And the manhunt for you and me."

"Yeah, you're really convincing me here." She said, dry as the desert. She huffed, annoyed that he always teases her in such a way that she can't resist to tease him right back. "The answer is no." They were silent for a minute. "But call me if you need someone to talk to."

"Of course."

"Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"No promises." He forced out a quiet laugh, "Have a good day, Natasha."

"You too."

The call ended.

After her bath, Natasha slipped on her disguise for this town. Plaid shirt, jeans, and a cowboy hat—it shouldn't draw attention to her in here. Dressed like that on her bike might turn a few heads though, so she opted to walk. There weren't too many people who lived in this town in the first place, and hardly any of them were out on the road. One, two, three cars had passed her in a rush of wind, each blasting some country song she didn't know.

As she got closer to the small shopping area downtown, she noticed a man sitting outside of a gas station with a cardboard box at his feet. On the box in bold letters read the words 'puppies for sale'. As Natasha grew closer, she sent the man a friendly nod.

"Care for a puppy?" The man inquired.

Natasha peered into the box and her heart squeezed as seven puppies wagging their tails scrambled to the edge of the box to stand up on their haunches and yip at her. And to yip at each other.

Fucking adorable.

"No, thank you." She said, looking past the man and into the gas station. There were newspapers hung up on the window and her eyebrows furrowed at today's headline, "They're precious little things though. Have a good day."

As she got closer to the grocery store, her phone began to ring.

"Who is it now?" She asked the air as she fished her phone out of her back pocket. She blinked at the caller ID and then answered the phone. "Nick?" She asked, wondering why the hell the former SHIELD director was calling her.

"Romanoff." Fury replied, "Been reading the news lately?"

"Stephen Strange emerges as a superhero." She paraphrased the newspaper she'd just caught a glance at. She thought back to Sitwell giving them information on Project Insight, "Zola was right. Ross after him yet?"

"Do Asgardians live in Asgard?"

Natasha snorted, "Why are you telling me this?"

"Just because SHIELD was destroyed doesn't mean I don't still keep an eye on things. And people. I've been in contact with Strange." Fury snorted, "He's an asshole. But a smart asshole that happens to be concerned with the state of the universe."

"We already know an asshole like that. He created a murder bot that blew an entire city to hell. Remember?" She walked through the sliding doors of the grocery story, grabbed a cart and started weaving through the isles.

"How could anyone forget?" Fury retorted, "But Strange understands more about the universe than Stark does. He—shit, I have to call you back." Fury hung up, leaving Natasha, who had been looking over the nutrition facts on a box of cereal, staring at her phone in irritation. She continued shopping, only grabbing as much as she could carry back to her motel room. She paid for her items and left. She nodded to the man with his puppies again, and the little things yipped and yipped as she walked by.

When she got back to the motel, she poured herself a bowl of cereal and sat in front of the couch. When she turned on the news, Stephen Strange's face assaulted her vision. The words at the bottom of the screen affirmed that the world, indeed, wanted him to sign the Accords. It also affirmed that the doctor's current location was unknown and that no one had seen the man since a small incident in Asia.

Her phone buzzed. She cursed. Why was she so popular today?

It was a text message from Steve.

Are you sure?

She sighed and typed back.

Yes.

She couldn't wait for it to get dark so she could find some thug's face to smash her fist into.