Piece by Piece
By Carol M.
Summary: Missing scene from TWS. As Natasha returns a recovering Steve to his apartment, they are attacked by two rogue Hydra agents bent on revenge. Will they push the ailing super soldier to his limit? Not if Natasha can help it. Steve/Natasha friendship
Disclaimer: I don't own them, only love them
My first Avenger/Captain America fic! Hope you enjoy!
Natasha pulled her Corvette in front of Steve's apartment, her eyes scanning the surrounding area for anyone who shouldn't be there. She had been hesitant to let Steve go back to his home to collect his things, but the pitiful whipped puppy look he had flashed her through his still swollen black eyes courtesy of his former best friend had swayed her otherwise. The poor guy deserved some of the creature comforts of home, even though she was pretty sure any of the objects he planned to collect would merely be consolation prizes for the home and time that he really wanted. Still though, if it would cheer him up a little, it was worth a try.
She continued to check out the area for another minute, the place pretty much deserted since the shoot out a few weeks back. Most of the other residents in his building had been cleared out due to security and by the looks of it hadn't bothered coming back. She was thankful for the privacy. She didn't particularly feel like parading Steve out in front of a bunch of civilians when he was still trying to get his strength back. He needed his solitude and time to heal. Time to regroup.
They all did.
She blew out a breath and turned off the ignition, glancing over at Steve, who was sacked out in her passenger's seat. He had drifted off almost as soon as they had pulled out of the hospital parking lot. It was strange to see him so unaware and out of it. In fact, in the handful of times she had worked missions with him, she couldn't recall ever having seen him sleep. She had heard rumors from Bruce and Clint that Steve was a bad sleeper and when he did manage to catch a few z's, he was plagued with horrible nightmares. The rumors didn't seem to be too far off the mark if what she was observing was any indication. His face was scrunched up as if he were trying to endure some great pain, his jaw clenched tight, his eyes twitching rapidly under bruised lids. His body jerked and shuddered, the movement clearly hurting him as tormented grunts escaped his still stitched and swollen lips.
"Steve," she whispered, trying to ease him out of sleep.
"Bucky," he murmured, his face crumpling up even more. "M'sorry Buck."
"Steve," she repeated, this time louder, wrapping her hand around his bicep, careful not to aggravate any of his many wounds.
He groaned in response, his face smoothing, his eyes stilling behind closed lids but not opening.
"Come on, Sleeping Beauty, time to wake up," she chided, lightly tickling the skin behind his neck.
Steve exhaled miserably and opened one eye to look at her. "Five more minutes, mom," he responded, his voice small and ragged.
"We gotta get in and out of here, Steve. Too many eyes could be on us."
Steve moaned unhappily.
"Look, just make a list of what you want and I'll get it. You can sleep it off in the car."
"No, m'fine. M'coming," Steve muttered as he struggled to sit himself upright.
"Whats the matter, afraid I'll find your porn stash?"
Steve pushed himself up with a grunt, his hand pressing against his still raw stomach wound. "Afraid you won't. Then you can see how pathetic I really am."
Natasha quirked her mouth in a sideways smile and got of the car, checking the side streets and nearby buildings for anything that didn't belong, unable to shake the bad feeling she had in her bones. She walked around to the passenger's side, where Steve was bent over painfully, trying unsuccessfully to get out of the car.
"Need a hand there, big boy?"
A ghost of a smile flickered across Steve's face, followed by a wince at the pain it caused. "I'm good." He managed to push himself up and out of the car with a barely contained squeak of pain, his lips mashing together in a tight grimace.
"You okay?"
"Never better."
She shook her head, planting her hands on her hips. "You don't always have to be okay, you know. It's okay to need a little help every once in awhile."
Steve managed to cock his eyebrow at her. "And you know this how?"
"Touché," said Natasha, the words hitting her harder than she would've expected. "But still, you know what I'm saying."
"I know, I know. Mandy from Ops, Shelby from transport, Stewart from munitions?"
"Hey, whatever you're into," she said with a shrug, nodding towards the apartment. "Come on, lets get this over with."
She strided purposefully towards the building, her hand shadowing her gun as she checked every which way. Steve shuffled alongside her, his movements as jerky and unsure as a newborn colt.
"Hey…Natasha," he asked, his words unusually shy and tentative, so much so that it drew her attention back to him.
"Yeah?" she said, intrigued by where this would go.
"You still got any of your Russian contacts? Maybe someone who could shed a little light on Bucky. You know, what he's been up to? What they did to him?"
"Steve…"
"Spirit of asking for help and all?"
Natasha sighed. "You don't wanna go down that road."
"He saved my life, Natasha. That means there's still some piece of the old Bucky in there. If there's even a chance I can help him get back to even half the person I used to know, I'll take it. He wouldn't give up on me. I'm sure as hell not going to give up on him."
Natasha stopped walking and observed the hopeful, almost earnest look on his battered face, making him look his actual twenty seven years of age. It was refreshing to see someone that thought things could actually work out for the better. She herself had given up that notion long ago. "I'll see what I can do."
It was at that moment that two Hydra agents dressed in throwback relic uniforms scaled down from the roof. One landed at Natasha's feet while the other landed on Steve, taking him to the ground with a loud umph. Steve's attacker produced a wicked looking baton and promptly smashed it with incredible force into Steve's gunshot wound. Steve wailed in pain, his body curling up helplessly as his attacker began to pummel him with the blunt instrument.
"Steve!" Natasha kicked her assailant away from her and then pulled out her gun, aiming it at his head. But he came back with his own kick, knocking it out of her hand. She ducked at an incoming punch and dove straight at her attacker's midsection, taking him to the ground and getting his body in a lock with her thighs. She heard a gargled shout and risked a glance back at Steve. The super soldier had managed to knock the baton out of his attacker's hand, but the assailant was still looming over him, his beefy hands wrapped around Steve's throat like a vice as Steve struggled weakly against him, the fight slowly eeking out of his body.
She turned back to her opponent and dodged a rogue fist. "Been fun, but I don't have time for this." She grabbed a taser from her rear pocket and hit the man in the neck. His body seized against the currents before sagging back, completely unconscious. Maybe even dead. Natasha didn't really care. She hopped off the man and went towards Steve's attacker, scooping the baton off the ground as she dove for them. The man anticipated the movement and brought a hand up to block. Fortunately, Natasha had seen it coming and hit from the other side, knocking the man clean off Steve and onto the ground. She raised the baton up to properly neutralize the man, pausing as she watched him crack his tooth. "Hail Hydra," he said before his mouth filled up with foam and he fell back, dead.
"You do that," said Natasha, peeking over at the second man to make sure he was still down. He was and then some. Good riddance.
She hurried over to Steve, who remained trembling in pain on the ground, unable to catch his breath, looking even more wretched and beaten then when they had found him on the shore days earlier. "Let me see," she urged, lifting up his shirt to reveal his gunshot wound bleeding bright red through the bandage still wrapped around his belly. She took off her over shirt and pressed it firmly against the wound, causing Steve to groan out in misery. "Easy," she murmured as she scanned the rest of his body, noticing fresh red welts on top of old yellowing bruises across his chest and abdomen. She experimentally pressed on a rib, eliciting a pitiful sounding whimper of agony from Steve. "Ribs are broken again and he reopened the gunshot wound. I think we should take you back to the hospital."
Steve swallowed thickly and lay his head back on the ground, eyes shutting tight in pain, his hand coming to rest against the shirt over his gunshot wound and his other arm wrapping around his tender midsection. "No."
"Steve…"
Steve took a steadying breath and then opened his eyes. He gritted his teeth and pushed himself into a sitting position with a horrendous groan. Then his whole face went white and his eyes fluttered, looking like he was about to pass out.
"Whoa," said Natasha, dropping next to him and catching him before he face planted on the pavement. His head fell weakly against her arm, his body quivering, his breath quick and raspy.
"Jus..gimme…ahhh…a sec," Steve more breathed then spoke.
Natasha could hear him swallowing rapidly and knew he was trying not to throw up. She moved his head slightly downward into a recovery position, and began to run her hand up and down his neck and upper back, trying to offer him some comfort. She could feel his body give out, his last remaining cell of energy completely spent. He had dropped all pretense of being strong. He was done. Utterly broken. She felt him take several shaky inhales followed by several soft sniffles, her arm dampening as a few tears dripped onto her skin. She eased him closer to her and wrapped her arms protectively around him, resting her head on top of his, giving him a safe place to find his center again.
The tears stopped almost as soon as they had started, replaced by calming breaths deeper than even moments before, signaling to her that his body was regaining strength and he was already starting to heal. A few seconds later, and he was lifting his head up on his own and sitting up, his hand pulling away from the gunshot wound, revealing that it had already stopped bleeding.
He glanced at her sheepishly, his stellar blue eyes still red with tears and fatigue. "Sorry about that."
Natasha winked. "I won't tell."
Steve shook his head, a small smile spreading across his face, his eyes suddenly a million miles away, lost in some kind of memory. "You know, Bucky was always the one that would put me back together again after I had my ass handed to me."
Natasha smiled. "I was just holding his place until he can do it again."
"You really think that's possible?"
Natasha shrugged. "We fought in battle with a God from another planet. You woke up after 70 years of being frozen. I'd say pretty much anything is possible."
"Thanks," said Steve, his eyes clear, his face pinking up with life again.
"Any time. Besides, I figured I owed you. I mean you did save my life a few times that last couple of days."
"Three times?"
"More like two." Natasha stood up and reached a hand down to help Steve stand. He grabbed it and used her weight to pull himself up with a grunt, keeping his other arm tightly wrapped around his abdomen.
"I think it was actually four times," Steve kidded, his blue eyes twinkling for the first time in days.
Natasha gave him a half smile as she kept his hand in hers, leading him towards the apartment building. "You wish, Rogers. You wish."
That's All Folks!