The Way You Did Once

by ChanelAddict

Finding him, finding her, finding each other. A Birthday Fic for Scribeninja. A Bucky/Nat/Steve story. Road tripping in search of each other, and ultimately themselves.

The way you did once

The Way You Did Once

Finding him, finding her, finding each other.

She took a deep breath as the slow soft sounds of the end of the song, the end of their dance, and the end of whatever ignorance they were both embracing finally finished. Steve had left for his date, and she had been left alone. Draining the last of her wine, she dropped her dishes off in the sink before retreating to the bedroom. It wasn't that she wasn't attracted to Steve, it would be a lie – one of many she could tell – but one that she wouldn't. He was handsome and beyond that he was an honest to god Super Soldier, but more so he was everything she wasn't. He was sweet, genuinely kind and disgustingly earnest. He wore his heart on his sleeve which is why he had those big puppy eyes full of pain half the time, full of patriotic righteousness the other half. She wasn't sure which broke her heart more. As it stood they had been firing separately on all cylinders since the downfall of SHIELD, and then when the call came to get the band back together to battle the home grown forces of Ultron, all the side missions got put on hold in favour of the team effort.

It was exhausting but necessary.

The date she had fixed Steve up on was also on her necessary list, on that she wasn't going to budge. He was a good guy, and deserved nice things to happen to him once in a while, and while he looked out for all of them, he needed someone to reciprocate. If that had to be her for the time being, she was fine with that.

Steve always left his windows open without care and being up as high as they were it meant the place would be freezing when he got home.

She wasn't sure why she cared about Steve being cold, but since she knew how much he disliked it, it was a fact that stuck with her. Three steps into the room however and the hair on her neck stood on end.

"Natalia," The voice came and she froze. Either she was really off her game, or it was –

"Or is it Natasha now?"

Him.

Her body tensed, fight mode instantly switched on, but she was, stupidly unprepared off her guard, allowing the so-called security of Avengers Tower to envelope her in a false sense of security.

The way he clarified her new name in her mother tongue told her everything, it also gave way under the tired tone to a hint of something bitter. The air was heavy, beyond tense, and there was an electric feel of fear floating around them both.

Silent still, so silent, if she couldn't see his outline in the dark room thanks to the glow of the city below, she might not have known he was there.

"No guns. That's not what this is. And if you're trying to slip your hand under the unit for the hidden glock don't bother. I got that one too."

She sighed; of course he did, of course. So she stilled her fruitless search and turned her whole body in his direction.

"How long have you –"

"Long enough. It was… interesting. Listening to both of you together."

Pain, exhaustion, but still wildly alert, it reminded her of a wild animal caught in a trap, dying but still fighting.

For a split second she forgot herself and almost felt pity.

"You –"She began in English.

Before she could continue he had her by the neck with his cold, metal arm, pushed not softly against the wall. Her heart jumped, natural reaction was to fight back but she held herself still wanting to see what this was. If he had her weapons, if he had been there for a significant period of time, he could have killed them both at any time. This wasn't a kill mission, this was …something else.

Then she found out what.

His eyes searched hers before using his warm human hand to push up her top roughly, exposing her side.

Exposing her scar.

Oh.

"Odessa. Real." He whispered as if to himself more than her. "That was you, that was real." He was already pale, drained and wrecked looking, but if it was possible she saw what little colour there was disappear from his face completely.

She willed herself to stay calm, to give nothing.

But she had to give him something.

"Odessa was real, yes."

He nodded, swallowing hard before stepping back.

He was a mess, plain and simple. A dirty, broken mess of a man. One she used to know.

"What do you want? How did you even get in here? Stark has the –"

"There were distractions, and I'm pretty good at scaling buildings with this thing too. That and open windows, it's not that hard."

Given how many hundreds of feet they were off the ground, given his current state and given the fact that he just seemingly slipped in through the damn open window, she'd say he was down playing his efforts ever so slightly.

Unlike the man she used to know.

"Steve isn't here."

"I know."

"Then why are you –"

"Some things... I wanted to… clarify."

"Like Odessa."

"Yes."

"And the other things?"

There was a long pause, all she could hear was her own heartbeat thumping in her ears, she couldn't even hear him breathing. When he spoke again, it was with a faraway look in his eye.

"You were … younger then, different, back there in that place. I was..." he looked at the wall past her, as if he was struggling to find the words, his voice was rough, dry, as if he hadn't spoken in days. He probably hadn't, she thought. "I was much the same, but it was a different time. That was real too, yes?"

She simply nodded.

"What do you remember?"

He sighed before pacing back to the window, the air between them less tense now, now there lay only a curiosity on both sides. He didn't answer, not until he had paced back and forth a time or two, before standing in front of her face once more.

"I remember you." He reached out then, taking a piece of her hair between his fingers, before letting it fall. An action that honest to God made her heart stop with the familiarity of it all.

"You were the first and only rule I ever broke."

That felt like a punch in the gut, but outwardly she remained stoic.

"He's been looking for you." We all have, she wanted to say but didn't. "You should stay, save him some trouble, maybe you know… shower or something."

Because yeah, that shit was questionable even from where she was standing.

He just shook his head, a tense stance reappearing.

"Not the time, not yet."

She understood that, she did, but how she was going to explain this to Steve …

"I will, eventually, I will. Just not – not now."

There was a shrill that rang through the room like a banshee; suddenly the red alert alarm was raised.

He'd been made.

Of course by the time she hit the 'secure' button by the door, he was gone.

She wasn't going to ask how he scaled the building, getting through an open window was one thing, this was entirely another.

She wasn't going to ask.

And she wasn't going to tell.

Debriefed and let off the leash, the team scattered to the winds once more, this time with a more long-term invitation awaiting them back in New York courtesy of Stark, who was, learning to play with others better than even Fury first imagined, in fact he was relishing in it. What Nat wasn't relishing so much was the location of the current search. She wanted a shower, her kingdom for a shower and maybe some sugar waffles. Instead she was in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere once again risking life and limb, with a cranky distant Steve. Cranky distant Steve was even less fun than distant Steve and today she was getting both.

"Look I'm just saying I think it would be more pragmatic to; you know, split up search the grounds and end up at a rendezvous point." She pointed out, suiting up in the van two miles from the target area. Both of them checking and rechecking their weapons, adjusting their suits. He always turned his back as she changed into hers, she gave him the same courtesy but wasn't at all above objectifying him if only to make him blush.

Which it did of course constantly.

"Yes it would be, but it would also be that much more dangerous, and I'm not risking you again."

She rolled her eyes. That was one time, Jesus.

"Steve…"

He just huffed a reply as they readied themselves to breach the perimeters of the base. "Nat, the comms aren't one hundred percent here, they crap out and you go radio silent on me – again – it's a waste of a) time, and b) me worrying about you. Because before you say it, yes I am aware how well you can take care of yourself. But this Op was my idea and there's no way I'm losing a man on a mission again."

She glared.

"Excuse me, woman." He said correcting himself, handing her the earpiece. "Keep it on."

"Even though we'll be wasting time being side by side."

"Even that." He answered sarcastically as ever.

With that they took on their fifth Hydra base of operations in a month, and just like the other four when they got there, this one had already been laid to waste.

What the hell was going on?

It would be two more weeks before she realised, stupidly, something that was right in front of her face.

The reason they were getting nowhere was because they were being watched. Their every move, every target had been acquired before they even knew what it was.

Someone was always a step ahead.

"And Sam thinks?" She yelled after Steve got off the call, as they both packed up their shit and hit the road. Nothing angered Natasha more than a fruitless mission, I mean she was in spandex for fuck sake! And she didn't even get to punch anyone!

"Sam agrees that it's the same MO basically. Someone or something knows our mission before we make it, which considering that any and all tracking has been disabled by SHIELD we can assume it's not from our side of things. It's not someone playing for our team."

Sam had taken a base with Maria in Paris; they had encountered the same thing – no info, no nothing. Just ashes.

And with nothing left, there was nothing left to learn about the Winter Soldier either -the sole basis for their missions in the first place. Steve wanted to hunt down every name, every base that had held him, that had programmed and de-programmed him in the past seventy years.

And when Cap went all in, he went ALL in.

"They're on their way here now, our next hit is seventy miles west of here, I say we wait, take it apart together."

"That's if there is anything left to take apart." She commented sourly as they finally landed at the safe house having listened to Steve and Sam plot and talk the entire drive there over the phone. The safe-house was one of hers, she had used it on and off in that region for about a decade when things got rough in that part of Europe.

"We have dates, we have some files right? And we have more names; it's not a total loss. You get anything from the hard drive we found in the London base?"

"The encryption should be broken by now; I left it decoding while we handled this. I'll know more soon." As things stood, Stark was receiving the larger files, and doing his thing from New York.

He nodded as he dragged off his helmet, the serious look on his face doing nothing to hide his adorable helmet hair.

"Speaking of dates, you never did get time to tell me how it went with –"

"Now really isn't the time, Nat."

"Oh, sure it is." She sing-songed as they got inside, her boots and his being the first things to go at the door. "It's the perfect time because we're going to heat up old take out and go over pointless files – it's the perfect time for first date stories."

"It wasn't my first date –"

"Okay fine, first date this century how about that?"

He just sighed, leaving the living room and retreating to one of the bedrooms, no doubt to change. She took to the bathroom to do the same, grabbing her bag on the way.

Her kingdom for hot water, she scored for once.

She tried to coax conversation out of the cantankerous Captain that evening, though for the most part it was pointless.

"What crawled up your ass, seriously?"

He just grimaced, not looking up from his pile of never ending files.

She'd had just enough of the silent treatment, so she snapped the file from his grasp, earning her a sigh.

"Seriously Rogers?"

"Nothing, and give me back my file."

"It's something, and no."

"You know I could just take it from you. You know that right?"

"That you could overpower me with your Super Soldier awesomeness? Well, I mean, you could try." She flirted a little but he didn't bite. She had come to rely on her sparring with the Cap, though he missed most of her epic pop culture references he was still fun to spar with verbally as well as physically. She enjoyed the tension between them and how easily it was to distract him at times if she touched him a certain way. Childish sure, but a win was a win, and men were easy.

"There's something seriously wrong, Natasha. There's a pattern to this, and not just our Intel. It's like we're being beaten to the punch, when even we hardly know where we're going half the time. We know our info is secure, Starks servers are the best in the world as things stand, there's just no way anyone else could know where these bases are unless –"

"Unless what?"

"Unless they'd been there before."

Ah, and suddenly it all made sense.

"And you think… it's him, that somehow he's beating us to it?"

He shrugged.

"If you didn't want to be found what would your first task be to stop those looking for you from finding you?"

Well that was obvious, now.

"Now? Nothing, all my dirty laundry has been aired and trended. Back then though…" she sighed, she knew precisely what she'd do "I'd have set fire to the world if I had to."

"Exactly." He raised his brows, flipping shut one file in favour of another, before grabbing the folder she held in her hands. "Now we just have to figure out where the next fire is gonna start, and maybe we can get somewhere."

"You know if he had wanted to be found you would have found him, Steve."

"I know," he said gruffly, not taking his eyes off the file. She doubted he was even reading it though, he had that look, the one she knew that said he was off getting lost in his head again. She wished she could stop the faint look of pain on his face when he did that. "Doesn't mean we just give up on him."

She sighed.

This wasn't really her fight, but Steve meant a lot to her now, and Sam and Maria were fast becoming a part of the dysfunctional super family one that swore to tell the truth no matter how awful. With everyone fucked up in their own way, everyone wanting to atone for something, everyone just doing their best. It was no surprise they had gravitated to each other, she liked it, and it sat well with her, for now. If their best in this instance meant bringing Steve back his best friend, then that was the mission they all accepted.

The only problem was James Barnes wasn't just Steve's best friend, not anymore. The unspoken connection she held to the man she once knew, it was dangerous to her then, and it still was only in a much different way. Before her relationship with him was one that could have – and should have cost her, her life, now it could have cost her far more.

Her dysfunctional family.

They were two months into their impromptu trek around Europe, when she tasked herself the mission of recon, leaving the others in Moscow she travelled outside of Kazan, she knew of an operations base there and decided it was worth a look, she was right. What should have been abandoned in the early nineties, was still as far as she could tell an operational military base, small, but well-armed, as she staked the place out in the snow covered field above, she was reminded of her early days in the Red Room. The cold never bothered her anyway.

"You need to hide your hair better, the shock of red against the white, it stands out. It always stood out." Was all he said as he took his place on the cold ground next to her, they were sheltered by trees and had the advantage of a large steep hill, but apparently she was sloppy?

She just glared.

"Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously, it's really bright –"

"Not what I meant. The hell are you –"

"Right, I told you I had things to do. These would be those things. You need to leave." He was brash and dismissive and honestly, she wasn't having it.

Somehow, in one sentence he managed to piss her off more than she remembered being in a long time. How dare he order her around like he was her superior? Those days were long gone.

"I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you. Not until we call Steve."

He just cocked a brow at her and shook his head, returning his gaze to the arm guards below.

"Neither of those things is happening. What will happen is that you will leave, go back to …where ever it is you came from today, and leave me to my business that is none of yours."

"No."

"Yes."

"No!" She whispered harshly, this time standing up and retreating back so they wouldn't be spotted. He surprisingly followed.

"Natalia, this isn't your fight!"

Like hell it wasn't.

"It is now," She glared at him and he attempted to glare back, at least now she got a proper look at him. "What do you think you're doing, taking down ex-Hydra bases all over the world single handedly?"

He pursed his lips, and for a second she recognised the man standing in front of her, "Is that a joke?" he said, waving his one flesh hand with a grin.

"Stop deflecting and answer me."

"I have a few… old friends I need to visit, the conversations we've been having have been," he stared back at the base, nothing but murder on his mind, she knew that look, and she had lived that look. "Well over-due. You wouldn't deny me the chance at walking down memory lane with our old pals, would you?"

For that she had no answer. This was his closure, or at least an attempt to take back some of what they had taken from him. She knew the anger that lived inside her, had lived and slept so uneasy from the minute she walked away from those burning buildings in the same country she stood in now, all those years before. She knew what she had attempted to do to gain back her agency; she could only imagine what it was like for him.

"So you did the shower thing, that's an improvement," she began in an attempt at moving past the look in his eyes.

"It was necessary."

"Sadly it usually is. And you've been eating, I assume or you'd be dead."

He nodded.

"Good. Also what the hell is this?"

With that she was sure she saw a ghost of a smile, but it was gone as soon as it arrived.

"I know you know this has been me, he knows too though he won't admit it."

"And you know this because?"

"I've been tracking you, all of you, since London. The strange little circus of people you surround yourself with now, they're all quite unique, the archer in particular."

She nodded; pleased to have her theory proven correct, though she bristled at his knowledge of Clint.

"Why?"

"Why not?" He shrugged.

"You know he's looking for you, you know he wants to help –"her tone was bordering on indignant, but she hid it well.

"It's not time yet."

"Then when will it be time?"

He simply chided her, checking his weapon and slipping on the safety.

"Patience never was one of your strong suits, Sweetheart."

She just rolled her eyes as he continued.

"You can't say this isn't enjoyable for you. I've seen the look in your eyes when you took that base in Berlin, you enjoy this. You always have."

"We were on the defence. Since we've started this it's been kill in defence or capture, this isn't a death mission, James."

"Isn't it? You tell that to yourself so you can sleep at night? Does it work I wonder?" He sounded tired, but still determined, and no, it didn't but he knew that.

"You don't need to kill these men."

That snapped something in him, something she hadn't seen in a very long time. He reached for her by the throat, slamming her just so against one of the many trees that stood grounded around them, sheltering them from the falling snow.

"Don't I?"

He didn't squeeze, he wasn't hurting her, and she could rather easily get away. She stood as still as the tree she was held against anyway.

"No, you don't. Trust me, trust me, it doesn't help."

She looked him in the eyes then, in the hopes that he would see her truth. And it was, this time, shockingly, the truth. She had gone on her own brainless missions after her escape from the clutches of her childhood.

"You of all people – These aren't innocent men, Natalia, "he all but choked out, his eyes beginning to glisten a little before he blinked whatever emotions that were welling up inside him away. "You know what it's like. You know I have to do this to stop …stop the –"

"The voices never stop, Soldier. We knew that, even then. We could go down there and take those men out, sure. What does it achieve? We learn nothing, you're no further for it than you were yesterday, and so what do we do?"

"WE don't do anything, you go …away."

She smiled, even with his metal hand cold and unforgivingly wrapped around her neck.

"Can't do that."

"I could kill you."

"If you were going to kill me, you would have done it by now. Besides, I'm not so sure. Even back in full on brainwashed mode; I almost took you out, old man."

He rolls his eyes at that, letting her loose, seemingly accepting her refusal to leave.

"Fine, you want to help me so badly? Prove to me being with the domesticated civilians haven't made you soft. Rig the perimeter with C4; meet me at the North wall in ten minutes?"

"On one condition," She demanded, straightening out her coat. Honestly this woman gets in the way of his plans and then has the audacity to place conditions on his kind offer of letting her help.

Nice to see something's never change.

"What would that be?" He asked, exasperated and not hiding it in the slightest.

"Defence."

Non-verbally he agreed, mentally kicking himself for doing so as she took off with his explosives with a feral smile on her beautiful face. It brought back long lost images of her wearing the same smile, with the same white cold surrounding her, and it hurt his chest a little to think of what they'd both seen and done since then, never mind what had been done to them.

Like most everything else that had been weaving its way back into the forefront of his mind in past eleven months, he pushed it down, and focused on what he did best.

Surviving.

It was as most attacks are afterward, a bit of a blur. A bit of a painful 'oh look a whole new set of bruises' blur. All of it except when she stopped him from quite literally taking the head off the main Hydra agent overseeing the base, he backhanded her with his metal hand and it wasn't a feeling she was likely to forget anytime soon. The action had a reaction and that snapped him out of whatever abyss he was rapidly descending. They got their files, setting off the fire alarms and getting the hell out of dodge, before setting off the rounds of C4 and standing back breathless watching the place burn.

He was bleeding, she noticed, even if it seemed as though he didn't. She was also bleeding, her leg was cut, the remains of his slap left her with a split lip and what was sure to be a giant bruise in the making, but for the most part they remained intact.

They didn't speak, not when she helped him gather his things – a small likely stolen black backpack he had stashed in the woods, two fix bladed knives and three glocks. She knew he had a larger weapons base somewhere, but knew better than to bring it up. Instead they walked the four miles to where she had hid her van, when she nodded to him to get in, to her surprise, he did.

"Feel any better?" she asked as they pulled up outside a shack of a safe house a few miles west, no one around for miles but trees and squirrels.

"No." He answered, getting out before her and making his way inside like he owned the place. Instead of judging him for it, she followed and found him in search of something inside.

He looked at her expectantly.

"Bandages?"

She nodded to the top shelf in what she supposes could pass for a kitchen, it was more a sink and some shelves with a small musty fridge in the corner that held nothing but whatever provisions she had brought with her, and lots of water, not to mention the large bottle of vodka that sat in the freezer compartment.

She could argue it was for wound cleaning, but it would well as a short term memory duller too.

Both are what she intended to use it for when she yanked it out of the ice. If she had been a civilized spy she may have had glasses, as it stood she was fine taking a slug from the bottle.

He had taken to washing his hand in the sink before inspecting himself quickly.

"Sit down." He ordered his voice strong but low, to anyone else it might have appeared to be in anger, but she knew better. Since she knew better she thought better than to deny him, she wanted to see what this was.

He took the vodka from her hands and splashed some of it onto a cotton pad, swiping at her arm where the gash was all but closing around some dirt. She hissed, taking the bottle back for another slug, then he moved up to her shoulder, dabbing it again with the wet pad, before yanking her tank strap back into place.

"Your leg?"

"It'll be fine, I've had worse."

He nodded, taking a large gulp of the vodka, never wincing before handing it back to her. Then he gently moved his flesh hand to her chin. He tilted her face to the light.

"I… did that."

"You did."

He looked down then, at the padding in his hand before looking her straight in the eyes again.

"I'm sorry I didn't … at the time I was so… No matter what I say here I sound like an asshole, I just didn't mean to hurt you back there, is what I'm trying to say."

"Like I said, I've had worse."

"I've done worse…to you." He acknowledged, his eyes flicking to the other scar on her shoulder from another bullet she caught in Washington. And yeah, he did do worse, but so had she under orders, as part of her 'training' during and since.

She suppressed a sigh, shit they had no control over had no place in the here and now, it had taken her years to accept that.

"I don't need or want a sorry, you should know that."

He looked her in the eyes then, and suddenly she was that same teenage girl again, utterly and totally besotted. She hated that feeling, for so long she equated that feeling with weakness.

"Yeah," He sighed, cleaning up his materials, piling them into the tin, or keeping the used items separate for disposal. "But maybe I need to give it."

Neither of them spoke after that, not when he threw the used materials in the trash, not when she downed half the bottle of vodka handing him the rest while he followed suit. Not when she lit the small fire and curled up on the camp bed in the far corner of the room, and certainly not when he took the couch and did the same a few feet from her. For a long while that first night, it was just silence, perfect silence deafening in ways and soothing in others. There were a million and one things she had wanted to say to him over the years, thinking she'd never get the chance. Now that he was there, in the capacity that he was, somehow it had all seemed so trivial.

"It was always James, with you. How did you know?" He all but whispered in the dark, maybe the dark made it easier somehow, like it had all those years ago.

She shrugged though no one could see it.

"Whispers really, the American, the fallen soldier that became our winter. Just whispers."

"Of?"

"The patriotic American super soldier, the serum of course, his fallen comrade and his ultimate sacrifice. It was viewed as I'm sure you know not with anything other than contempt by most. A waste of technology and of science, of what could be. But, our winter was all we had, wherever he came from."

He was silent so she tacked on a more light hearted reason.

"And you looked like a James."

That got a chuckle in the dark.

He didn't need to know she had read his file once upon a time when left alone in storage, that the nameless American had ties – close ties to the one and only Captain America. He didn't need to know that she devoured American history books for the sake of her training either; he didn't know that she connected the two and attempted to give him some kind of human identity.

"Go to sleep, James."

She doesn't know if he did in fact, sleep. But at some point in the night she must have because when she wakes up he's gone. She knew he would be, she was shocked he had stuck around as long as he had. All he left behind was a note, scribbled on the back of a folder that sat on the kitchen table.

'See you in Mytilene.'

"I guess the next stop is Greece," She said to no one but herself, wondering when she would tire of the goose chase, or mores to the point when would he.

Reaching for her phone to text Steve, telling him she caught wind of a lead and to pack up and meet her in Athens, from there they would each go their separate ways and follow the breadcrumbs left by Bucky.

She wasn't sure what his end game was, other than 'hurt the people that hurt me', she knew that feeling, knew how overpowering it was for her, she only imagined what it was like for him.

She hoped though, sometime soon he would realise that more death wouldn't undo death. If he wanted the voices to stop screaming even a little, he had to start doing the opposite of what they made him do.

She just hoped he realised that sooner rather than later.

"You never did say where you got the tip?" Steve asked handing her a slim line AK.

"Can't a girl keep her sources anymore?" She said with a shy smile as they suited up to take the site, it was an underground facility, under a church of all things. The Catholic side of Steve Rogers was internally screaming, she thought at the audacity of such an act. Sam and Maria had cleared a larger one the day before across the island, the two were linked and this one was the main storage source dating back to pre-world war two. In other words, if anywhere had info on the Winter Soldier, it was here.

And it was, along with databanks full of information on every soldier captured by Hydra during WWII, seemingly at first glance it was a buffet of choice, and Barnes was main course. Having managed to get in without a fight, they knew getting out wasn't going to be easy. In short it was how a church on a small docile island blew up one Monday afternoon, how Natasha almost lost a finger and dislocated her shoulder, how Steve ended up with singed brows, ripped pants (seriously he's running out of pants, and really misses a uniform) and a stab wound to the shoulder. All in all, a typical day at the Hydra hunting office.

Somewhere along the line they'd split up into two groups, she wasn't sure when but it had happened. She worked with Steve most of the time, or they worked as a foursome, never was she sent off with either Sam or Maria alone, it was curious. But, she had no complaints, she worked well with Rogers, and conversation usually wasn't lacking afterward either. This time they agreed on a dingy dive that served massive portions, and generally ignored the state of their few customers. She was bandaged up, he was touching his brow every five minutes, and ignoring the hastily patched up wound he had acquired earlier in the day. Six hours and a hundred miles later they could finally catch their breaths.

"Sam check in?" she asked with a mouthful of fried chicken as he checked his phone, as she passed him some napkins and he stole a sip of her soda. This had become their routine too, Steve never wanting to drink anything but 'just a water thank you' but ending up slurping her fizzy caffeine like a kid stealing from a cookie jar. It was okay though, she always ate his onion rings so it evened out.

"Yeah, nothing. Not even a computer, it was a dead end, or they knew they were coming, either or."

She shrugged.

"It happens. We should have some new info with today's raid though."

He sighed, chomping heartily into his burger; a few chews in he spoke.

"Sure, I guess."

"You losing heart, Captain?"

"No, of course not I just… Everything we've found so far has been old data as far as we can even tell, and while I know Stark is salivating over what he'll find once the encryptions finish completely I just can't help but wonder what this all archives?"

"Knowledge, and as they say knowledge is power. You know that."

He did, he was just tired and lonely and maybe losing some steam. It had been months since the last sighting of the Winter Soldier, as far as he was aware, it was starting to drain him. It was starting to drain them all.

"I know you said he'll come home when he's ready."

She nodded. Standing true to the knowledge she held but couldn't divulge.

"But it just seems like he never will."

With that she did something uncharacteristic of her, and she reached out to him, placing her hand on his, attempting to reassure him, if only slightly.

"He will. Steve, it's complicated, more so than any of us could hope to understand."

"But you understand it, you understand him and you don't even know him."

She looked away then, focusing instead on her food.

"I wish he could know you, know how amazing you are even after all you went through. If he could know that there is another path."

The thing about Steve she had come to know was he was a hard guy to get to know. He was to an outsider, closed off and sullen, which given his life he had a right to be. But, if he deemed you one of his few friends he all but looked at you as if you hung the moon. With Natasha, she knew there was an element of attraction there on his side of things as well as hers of course, there had been since the first day she met up on top of the helicarrier. But it never came before his trust in her or his friendship, but sometimes the sparks between them were so obvious that she wished she had the courage to throw it all away and act on impulse. She wouldn't though, he meant too much to her, and more than that what he thought of her meant too much to her, gaining his approval, in some sick way was tied to her feelings on her own redemption.

If someone like Steve could have faith in her, then maybe, just maybe there was hope for her after all.

Of course that didn't meant he felt the same way. It had been clear since the night of his date that he was becoming less and less bothered about crossing certain lines with her, their close bond was blurring so many lines at this point she really should have forced herself to take a step back, to remember that Captain America was her team mate now, but he was also just a man. And men, well they wanted things, things she knew she wanted but shouldn't have.

It made things insanely complicated before she factored in the lies she was telling and the secrets she was keeping.

"I'm just saying, Ward was a douche," Maria sprouted, handing Natasha her whiskey. They had met up sixty miles from the last base, an old backwoods motel where no one took notice or asked questions. Not the most sanitary, but perfect for what they needed.

Anonymity.

"That he was, but I just think…well it doesn't matter what I think."

"No, spill, you can't possibly defend him, after what he did to those agents."

"No, of course not, I just know the ins and outs of brainwashing, there are a lot of different types of indoctrination, seems to me his was less invasive but no less effective."

That caused Maria to pause before she took a sip of her vodka tonic, they had took a break from the boys and their arguing over where to go next, by the grimy pool with a few bottles of equally as grimy looking alcohol.

"You have a point, but agree with me –"

"Oh he was a total douche and I will kick him in the throat the next time I see him."

"May already took care of that…" Maria said with a smile as she took another large 'sip'. It earned her a fist bump.

"I do love May."

They both nodded.

"What about Steve?" She asked concern now wholly present on her face.

"Well he's not a douche and we don't have to turn him over for a throat punching, not just yet anyway." Natasha answered, not really wanting to answer.

"Stark is worried, that Steve is becoming obsessed."

She just raised her brow in the direction of her colleague.

"Yes, I realise how ironic that sounds, but they've bonded now, so he worries."

"Aw, how cute."

Maria just smirked.

"But seriously, anything in the files thus far?"

"Nothing we can use, just shit that continues to depress him further the more he gets back from the encryptions. Nothing that alerts us to the soldier's whereabouts, not that we expect it too really; I think Steve just wants to take down as many of the facilities that hurt his friend, and collect as much data on just how they did it as possible. Two birds with one bomb, as the case may be."

"And you agree with him?"

"I don't disagree with him, what was done to James Barnes was unforgivable, if Steve can make those people pay, even in a small way for that, and it helps Steve sleep at night, I say go for it."

"Did you?"

"Did I what?"

"Go for it, when they … the Russians, when they did what they did to you."

This wasn't what they talked about, not ever, but Maria no longer held the fear of the Widow she once had, she saw Natasha as a friend now, a very capable, deadly friend, but a friend none the less. And she had clearly read her leaked file, too.

"It left a lot more red in my ledger; no amount of revenge killings depleted that."

They left it at that when Sam came to join them, pulling up a dusty deckchair, and helping himself to a large glass of whiskey.

"I swear sometimes that guy is just plain nuts." He said with a smile, reassuring them that he was at least half kidding. Though how Steve was lately, it wouldn't have been far from the truth.

"Did he at least eat today?" Maria asked, doing an amazing impression of a concerned white mother.

"I made sure he ate, sleeping is something I can't guarantee."

"We could just tranq him." Sam suggested with a smile, before Natasha took her leave to go check on their twitchy Captain. Unsurprisingly, she found him pouring through mission reports and a seemingly endless pile of old files.

"Hey, you should take a break; maybe join us for a drink?"

"Maybe, in a minute." He didn't look up, and it wasn't that he was giving her the cold shoulder, at least not intentionally, but for a guy who was a stickler for eye contact, it was becoming an annoying habit.

"Steve." She said, gently taking the file from his hands, forcing him to eyeball her. "Take a break, get some air, and drink some horrific alcohol."

"You know it doesn't affect me –"

"Take part in an age old social convention then, come get buzzed with your friends?"

"That what we are?"

She just cocked a brow at him, throwing the file on the table and taking a seat beside him on the bed.

"Are you seriously asking me that question right now?"

Was he pouting? Jesus. She'd never seen a man his size pout before, it was bordering on adorably awful.

"You're hiding something from me but –"

"Steve –."

"No hear me out," he turned to her then, the space between them non-existent. "I get that it's your thing, you know your life long job thing and 'it's a good way not to die' and all of that is very valid…"

"But?"

"But right now the last thing I need is one of only a handful of people in the world that I trust lying to me about anything."

She stood up, needing even an inch more space between them, as if that would absolve her.

But she couldn't escape the look on his face.

His eyes, even with all he was going through, all the pain and loss and confusion he faced, still shone bright and hopeful. Natasha hated that. She hated his stupidly beautiful hopeful expressions, filled with riotousness and trust.

He followed her and stood in front of her, his height looming over her, as he asked if she understood. She did, of course, but it wasn't her secret to tell, James – Bucky, Barnes, whoever he was or wasn't now, it was his deal and up to him when to come home. So, Natasha did what she always did in times of trouble, she defused with a distraction. In this case, she allowed Steve to look at her like he was; the slow almost miss able subtleties in how he was watching her, her lips to her eyes and back again. He wanted to kiss her that wasn't anything new, but this time she'd let him, she'd let him if only to get away from the subject of her half-truths.

So, she leaned up, and pressed her lips to his, her hand softly moving from his chest up to his neck and finally into his hair, pulling him closer.

There was soft sigh from him, and one of relief from her.

He was so careful with her, which just made her feel worse. He treated her like she was this amazing thing, this untouchable thing that he didn't want to hurt. As if somehow his fingerprints on her body would stay there if he pushed too hard. She couldn't have that. She took over, moving his soft, reverent kiss into something more, something hard, and something she could handle.

Except she couldn't, not really, this wasn't a mark or a case, or a random guy in a bar, this was Steve.

One of her few friends and the one man on the whole earth whose approval actually meant something to her.

And she was lying to him about the most important person left in both their lives.

Abruptly though, her back hits the wall next the door he pulls her closer, everything is touching now. Their chests, their hips, and for a guy that body blushes from a kiss on the cheek he doesn't seem all that worried that she can feel how excited he is about what's happening. Not enough to pull away. She should stop kissing, she knows that. She needs to, it's not fair to him, and it's not fair to either of them really. But then he tightens his grip on her hip, pushing himself against her almost without meaning to, and well, it got a little bit harder in more ways than one.

"Natasha –"he moaned into her neck, his hot breath like a sword through the haze. She snapped back, unlatching herself from his shoulders, pushing his hands gently off of her. He looked as confused as he had the right to.

"I can't do this; this is too twisted even for me." She says running her hands through her hair, fixing the fallen strap of her tank top. And sure it made no sense to him, he couldn't possibly know how fucked up she felt for everything.

"Yo, Fearless leader, there's a beer out here staring at me with your name on it, where you at?"

It was Sam, Sam who had more than a few of those beers and who didn't have Steve's super serum drunk-block add-on called from outside. She heard Maria giggle, like, honest to God giggle.

"I'm… I'm sorry Steve that…"

"No, no," he was embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck and not looking at her as she all but backed out of the room. "It was me I'm … it's not…that shouldn't – it won't happen again."

That was like a knife to her heart, but she was the one doing the stabbing.

"I'm going back to my room, we head out at eight, Stark has a plane for us leaving at nine, we're about twenty minutes from the air-"

"I know, Natasha, its fine, we'll be ready. Goodnight." He wasn't cold, but he wasn't Steve either, he had switched to full on Captain Mode, he was shutting her down.

"Right," She swallowed, gaining her composure, "goodnight."

She bypassed the rest of the team, crossing the small courtyard to the other side where her room stood adjoined to three others. She took the first deep breath since the kiss when she closed the door.

She was instantly alert though, she wasn't alone, and her window was open.

"You ever heard of a phone call?" she asked, knowing full well who it was. He stepped out of the shadowed corner like the ghost he was trained to be.

"I have, lacking a phone usually means I lack the ability to call though." He says quietly.

"Of course, it's not like you'd call just to chit-chat, not really your thing I'd imagine."

He shrugged.

"Not really sure what my thing is anymore… or at all…"

Right, the whole mind wiping thing would do that.

She sighed.

"What do you want, James?"

He raised a brow at that. So, she was short fused, he had no right to expect to be coddled. Not by her.

"You're upset."

"Damn fucking straight I'm upset."

"Why?"

He stalked the room, his presence overwhelming, until he stood an inch from her face.

"You smell like him."

His words made her pause and look at him; he didn't say it with any inclination of feeling, just a fact.

"That's not a creepy skill at all."

"He feels for you."

"He feels for everyone, that's sort of his thing, big bleeding heart."

"Not like with you."

"Or you." She countered, because yeah, Steve loved his friends, but Steve loved Bucky, the two were very different.

He looked away then, and that's when she noticed, he was filthy, dried mud, cuts on his flesh arm, dirt in his hair.

"What happened?"

"Unexpected backup for a base off the island, cornered, but I… took care of it."

"And did it help?"

She knew it didn't, but he would have to accept that on his own, as she had.

"At the time yes I found more tapes, old tapes of procedures. I wasn't the only one."

No he really wasn't.

"No."

"Girls. There were little girls." His brow knitted in confusion then, as if he knew but didn't know. She confirmed his thoughts on the subject.

"Yes."

"You."

"Yes."

"When I met you –"

"I had spent years undergoing conditioning and training, we all did. The ones that survived the injections, they met The Winter Soldier."

They both knew the tale from there, his eyes and their previous interactions told her such.

"I don't remember… everything. I mean there are blurry pieces here and there, but then some things are clear as day."

"Such as?"

"You."

Oh.

"A-and him."

Oh.

"There are things… not so different with the two of you."

That was one way of putting it. She had wondered what the history books didn't say about those two boys from Brooklyn. She wasn't stupid, and could rather easily read between the lines, teaming that with knowing Steve, and well, it was an easy conclusion to come to.

She just nodded, before walking into the small adjoining bathroom and starting up the hot water in the shower that stood over a bathtub that had long since seen its day. She toed off her boots, yanked her sweater over her head, leaving her in her bra and jeans. Not wanting to over think her next choices too hard, she stood in the doorway, the light from the bathroom spilling into the dark bedroom where he sat, so lost inside his own head.

"You should clean up." Was all she said leaving his next actions up to him, before she padded back into the steam filled room. If he followed, he followed, if not then that was fine too. She was wound tighter than she had felt in a long time; things with Steve were just too complicated. He wasn't meant to feel for her, she certainly wasn't meant to feel for him. He deserved a nice woman, a good woman, not one that murdered and lied for a living. He deserved a woman, or as things stood now, just someone, anyone that could give him the life he missed out on. That wasn't her, and she wasn't sure it was Barnes either. But then again, she only pretended to know everything.

She had just wet her hair when she opened her eyes to see him standing rather awkwardly at the door.

"In or out, it's up to you."

He was looking her over, subtlety not really his thing either, she thought. But he was assessing the dangers, noting the exits, she noticed, before he toed off his boots and began to slowly undress. She turned, to give him at least the illusion of privacy, before he fully decided this was what he wanted. She figured after a literal lifetime of having zero choice in anything, giving him as much choice whenever possible was never a bad thing. And it made him trust her and she got to assess the damage when she eventually saw him nude.

The fact that she was still buzzing from the hot yet misguided touch of his former best friend filled her with shame she hadn't allowed herself to feel in quite some time. She pushed it out though, like everything else. That was then, this was now, and now he was standing there, needing direction.

Direction she could do.

She moved so he could stand under the spray, she assessed his wounds, some old, some new, his extensive scars were a thing of horrific beauty, it meant he had lived through whatever they did to him, it meant he was still in one piece.

Or rather, two pieces.

The arm was a work of art in itself.

Part of her wondered did it ever get waterlogged? Rusty? She made a note to ask him that sometime, hoping it might lighten his mood.

"Can I?" she asked before touching him. He just nodded. She took the cloth she held in her hands and soaped it up, before gently rubbing down his flesh arm, over his chest, to his neck and back again. He just watched her carefully, curiously.

After a few minutes of this, getting the dried mud and blood to wash away, it became almost a methodical exercise on her part.

He reached up and touched the end of her hair again. The action made her inhale sharply; they were standing so close he could feel if he didn't hear it.

"We've …done this before haven't we," It was a statement, not a question. She just handed him the shampoo, turning away from him then. "Natalia…" he whispered, though why she wasn't sure, it was an old habit remembered perhaps, before her took hold of her bare shoulders and forced her to face him.

"Maybe," She answered with a small smile. "Wash your hair, like this, see?" She demonstrated rubbing in the liquid, massaging a little and then moving under the spray to wash it out. He was still watching her like a hawk but there was something less terrified in his eyes then. Something that almost looked like, recognition and lust. But he followed her lead, doing as she showed him and seemingly enjoying how it felt, his eyes fell closed as he washed the dirt from his hair – hair that from the looks of things he attempted to cut himself. Not his best look, but desperate times and such, she could fix that too if he'd let her.

"There, see. Feels good right?"

He just nodded.

She just smiled to herself, before he opened his eyes again, finishing and moving to allow her time under the spray. His eyes fell from her face, where they had stayed so carefully from the start, they fell to her lips as his bit his own, to her breasts as he inhaled a large breath, to her hips and legs and everything in between, before seemingly mentally scolding himself as his eyes met her again sharply.

She just laughed.

"It's nothing you haven't seen before, trust me."

"I do…trust you."

Her eyes widened at that, because, wow.

"You're one of very few if you do."

Silence.

"I'm… not a good person, James." He knew that, or he did, more than anyone. He had helped to make her what she was then, what she still was now, though now she wore less of a shield against the world than she used to. Having friends weakened her, but they also strengthened her more than she ever thought possible.

He just shook his head at her, she didn't know what he meant, she wasn't sure she wanted to know. What she did know was his hands were touching her; just gently ghosting up her arms, to her neck and into her hair, before he stilled and searched her face for what she assumed was permission.

She didn't give it verbally, instead choosing to stand on her tip toes, and gently press her lips to his.

He was gentle, but nothing like Steve. He was curious but steadfast in his movements too, again, so alike and unlike Steve it was making her head hurt. She didn't want to think anymore, she just wanted to feel. So when he pushed her through the spray of water and against the cold tile, she didn't protest, if anything she grabbed his shoulders and pulled him closer. This she could do, with him she knew where she stood, and she knew what she was with him. She was the Black Widow, and in that guise she was unstoppable.

At least in theory.

James held her with a grip she wasn't sure he was aware of, tight and hard, as if afraid she'd slip away from in front of him at any moment. His kisses were soft and slow, exploring her mouth and tasting her, over and over until both their heads were light from lack of breath. The dichotomy of both addictive. She wanted his touch but wasn't sure where their boundaries were. She knew this wasn't sex, not in the traditional sense; it was a need for touch, for intimacy without fear of judgment. But she let him take the lead.

"Cold…" he murmured into her neck almost hugging her as she almost hugged back. Sure enough the water was starting to run cold. Gently she pushed him back, slicking his hair back with both her hands, before placing a small kiss to his cheek.

"Let's dry off then, okay?"

He nodded, stepping out first, extending a rather chivalrous hand to help her.

Full of surprises.

He turned his back to grab a large towel and she saw the full extent of scars on his back. She forced herself to turn away. At some point in time, The Asset received what looked like some serious whipping scars. She shuddered to think about just how bad it got. Instead she met him in the other room, where she wasn't going to assume anything – including that he wasn't just going to run. So, she pulled on her sleep shorts and a t-shirt, and pulled down the covers, sliding in but watching him as she did so.

"You can stay, you know? At least get some rest?" she suggested quietly, almost afraid to spook him.

"Not sure that's… I mean it's not why I came here. This… isn't why I -"

He pointed between them before dropping the towel, no hint of modesty, not that he needed it. Modesty was overrated, Natasha thought. He grabbed his boxers and slipped them on, before going to his backpack to retrieve something. She watched him carefully from where she laid.

"This." He held up a hard drive. "It has information on the hydra divisions within your fallen agency, as well as other agencies around the world."

So it wasn't just SHIELD then that was unsurprising, yet disheartening.

"It could be of use to him."

She wished he would name him, just once.

"Steve." She said for him, leaving her spot to walk to the edge of the bed where he stood.

"Yes. He could do something with it, maybe. Maybe give it to some people who could stop it. Stop another mission like my last."

She touched his flesh arm then, he was cold.

"Thank you, this will help immensely. Though you should know, Steve doesn't give a shit about anything but you right now."

He flinched.

"I can't… not yet."

"Can … can I ask why? You see me, which seems okay?"

He blinked, and then exhaled before he took a seat.

"You're different. He's… there is just so much there. So much I'm unsure of. He wants his Bucky, and to be truthful with you… I don't think I'm him anymore. I don't really know what I'm meant to do now. I have… I have no orders, I have…choices. But he… he's the one choice I'm terrified to make. Maybe the one choice I was always terrified to make."

She understood that. Steve had this accidental way of making you want to be the best you, the purest you with the best intentions. For people like her and James, sometimes that prospect was utterly terrifying.

"Lay down with me?" she offered, wanting to kiss the pain off his face but knowing better. But he did, slowly he took up space on the small bed, and she took hers, just lying facing each other silently for a time. It felt nice, it felt like old times.

He tangled his fingers in her hair again, absently stroking, down her neck, to her arm, and back again. It was soothing, she in turn, did the same.

"He misses you."

"I know… I … I know." He whispered, the dark and the quiet of the night helping this secret stay secret somehow with hushed tones and soft looks. Before he leaned over and kissed her again. This time it was less gentle, less hesitant, and before she knew what was happening he was moving her underneath him as his hand slid slowly into her shorts.

"This doesn't have to be that." She assured him, needed to assure herself. His headspace was too fucked to even consider what he was starting.

"I know." He answered, kissing back up her neck again. "But I want to help you…"

She stalled him with her hand, forcing him to look at her.

"This doesn't have to be that." She repeated herself, loud and clear this time, but he just kissed her quiet, sinking his fingers inside of her heat. Kissing and cupping and caressing his way from her lips to her breasts, all the while working her rapidly towards orgasm. His cold metal hand dragging her own above her head and holding her there as he let his whole body weight drop. Pinning her down, with no fear, circling gently inside of her, dropping wet kisses to silence her moans as she came apart at his touch.

He looked her over, noting the fresh flush in her cheeks that spread all the way down her neck, her mouth agape and her eyes closed. Yes, he helped and it had felt good, better than anything he had felt in the longest of time.

Good, this was good, he thought. Finally something good. He was beginning to wonder if all good things were meant for others, and not for him.

"You need to come in," she said after a few seconds of peaceful silence, he just laid back on the once white pillow as he allowed her hand to gently snake into his hair, stroking it softly. He wasn't used to touch, but he remembered it, remember her touch. She could touch him, he decided. "Hydra is still out there. You're still on their radar, why do you think Rogers is doing this?"

He didn't answer, wasn't sure what to say. A huge part of him wanted to go to his friend, to the mission he failed, to the man he saved and who saved him, but he had things to finish first before he could attempt anything else.

"Not to mention the CIA, MI6 and MI19, NSD, DRS, NSS, MSS, they're all looking for The Asset, dead or alive. I could go on!"

"That's an interesting set of letters you rhymed off there. I don't care."

She sighed, rolling over on her stomach, looking at him in the dimly lit room.

"He cares, we all do."

"Why?"

She just rolled her eyes.

"Because."

He just cocked a brow at her, and yeah her reasoning was less than stellar.

"It's what we do now, we care about people and things that have been wronged and it's part of our thing now to try and fix that."

"The Avengers," He stated, no emotion just fact.

"Yes."

"I murdered Tony Stark's parents. I assassinated them without a thought, and you think your Iron Man is going to be so willing to help the man that blew his parents to little pieces? Because I don't think so."

She swallowed, thinking her next words carefully.

"You know you had no choice, he will know the same. These people they're all messed up in their own way, we have this way of sort of collecting broken people and trying to put the pieces back together again. We do that by being a team, by being there for each other when needed; we do it by saving one person at a time."

"It doesn't make all that I did okay just because they told me to."

"They did more than tell you, James. I've seen some of the tapes, so has Steve, hell Tony is the one decoding majority of what we find..."

He was silent, she couldn't even hear him breathing and she had assumed he had drifted off to sleep, and then he spoke.

"I almost killed him, Natalia. I need to right some wrongs before I can stand in front of him again. I may not be who I was, but to him I am, and to him… that person was his best friend in the whole world and I'm wearing his face. I was wearing his face when I almost killed him."

"It will be okay, eventually, it will be okay."

"And until then?"

She thought about it, and came up with something Fury always said to her.

"Until then, it's okay to not be okay."

Neither of them slept that night, but that was okay too. She watched as he silently dressed before the sun broke the horizon, and began to exit through the open window.

"He needs to stop this, trying to find me. It's getting more and more dangerous, but it'll be over soon."

And with that he was gone as quietly as he had arrived. Leaving her mind racing.

Trying to get Steve Rogers to stop looking for his long-lost friend would be like getting Thor to part with his hammer, or Jane, or something equally as significant.

In other words, a losing battle.

Two weeks and no leads later, the team were getting restless. Aimless, tired, and grumpy weren't the best of combinations. She had taken it upon herself as unofficial second in command to give Sam and Maria the night off, she knew they were doing whatever it was they were doing anyway, she figured why not let them do it together, let them pretend to be civilians again for a night. She took a large bottle of tequila and sought out the Cap.

Things had been awkward between them, since that night; no doubt he was feeling self-conscious about it and wishing to brush it under the carpet, she never brought it up either. They were on a job; it wasn't convenient to start hashing over their love lives with two other team members constantly present.

She put a glass in front of him, and poured one for herself. This time they were in a more civilized accommodation, a hotel on Stark's dime, well, technically free since he owned the place an all, but hey, details. They were back in Europe, this time Sweden. She liked Sweden; it was a place with very few horrific memories.

"Stark needs Maria back in the next few days, between that and team fatigue I think maybe it's time we packed up and go home for a while."

That surprised her. She said nothing, just handing him his glass. This time he took it.

"Sounds fine. Whatever you need."

"No, I'm fine here." He took a sip, making a face but taking a larger drink. It may not affect him but that didn't mean she couldn't try and relax him a little. The guy was wound tighter than a violin string.

"So you just want us to leave?"

He rolled his eyes then.

"No, I don't want you to leave. You're my team this is a team effort, I don't pretend otherwise, Nat. I just… know that you have lives to get back to, this has taken a lot longer than I thought, and it's not fair on anyone."

"Right, because you're really forcing us all to be here." She said dryly causing him to sigh.

"Look, I know we haven't really talked… not since… well since things took a turn. I just wanted to apologise. I shouldn't have –"

"Can it, Rogers."

That shocked him, he put down his glass.

"Natasha, acting how I did isn't something I usually allow myself…it was reckless."

"I was there too; I was making the moves, Steve. You have nothing to feel guilty about; if anyone does it's me."

He shook his head.

"I shouldn't have… either way it was inappropriate. Personal desires shouldn't come into play here."

There was that knife in her gut again. Damn these men. Damn them all.

She took a large gulp of her drink before continuing, "Why are we doing this, Steve, really?"

He looked at her funny at the question, because he knew she knew damn well why.

"Natasha, you don't want to be here just say –"

"You know that's not what this is, you know that. I'm here." She looked him square in the eyes then, "I'm here."

He knew she meant it, but he wasn't stupid, he felt as she did. That this was a wild goose chase. Bucky had spent decades being trained in the art of violence and invisibility, if he didn't want to be found… He shrugged, pursing his lips with a righteous exasperation only he could pull off.

"I need to bring him home." He all but whispered staring into his glass.

"Steve – "

"I need to bring him home, Nat. The war is long over and he needs to come home. That's what this is. I failed the first time, I sure as hell won't fail him again."

For the first time since New York, she felt the need to betray her years of training and break, to tell him what she knew. She reached out, taking his arm in her hand gently, looking him in the eyes, trying to convey what sympathy she felt for him. Shockingly, even to her, it was real.

He downed his drink and started on another, she'd done it she had finally driven him to drink.

Oh boy.

Four days and a fight with Sam later, he saw both him and Maria off to the states. They needed a break, and Sam had family back home, a mother for one, who hadn't seen her son in months. This might be Steve's war, but he wasn't forcing anyone out of their lives full time for him, no way.

Stark was crazy but he was also crazy generous, and had sent a plane to take them back to New York as safely and as swiftly as allowed. He also had his guys drop off a hard drive of decrypted data ready for mulling over. A small note attached told Steve that the gist wasn't pleasant but there was a name that kept popping up from the late nineties to the fall of SHIELD.

Baron von Strucker

Higher up with Hydra and Pierce's second in command. MIA and presumed dead after the mess with the Miracle twins but information of his whereabouts kept popping up sporadically within hours of Stark hacking the drives they had obtained. He was the one Steve needed to get his hands on. He would surely know the details of the Asset's more recent missions and recalibrations and of the Hydra bases still active.

Which is how they track him down, six days and a million arguments later in the Alps.

How fucking original, Steve comments. Natasha doesn't get it, but then she doesn't really need to get every little comment.

"I hate the cold, I mean for obvious reasons, but man I fucking hate the cold." He murmured on and off to himself as they set up a base. Buried deep in the mountains, far from any kind of humanity there was a SHIELD safe house, tied to the side of a cliff, not the safest of safe houses, she mused, but it did the trick. There was heat for one, and stocked dried and tinned foods that would tie them over for weeks if necessary.

Only they knew it wouldn't be weeks, it wouldn't even be days.

They were ready, and by the next morning they were planning attack to where Strucker was hold up.

They went over the mission twice before it got dark and they bedded down, ancient camp beds with musty old blankets, but they'd both slept in worse.

"Steve?" She asked the darkness, hearing him breathing across the room.

"Hmm?"

Tell him; tell him, her conscience screamed.

"I just wanted to say, this thing what you're doing, for Barnes…"

"Yeah?"

"It's a good thing. I mean, if it came down to it and I was in his shoes, I'd want someone like you out there, looking out for me."

If it was possible she could hear him blush.

"Yeah?" he asked, his voice cracking a little, just a little. She needed to reassure him.

"Yeah."

There was a few seconds of silence then before he cleared his throat to speak.

"I would you know? Look for you."

She didn't stop the smile that came from that, "Ditto."

"Good to know, next time I go missing, bring your skis?"

She laughed at that, and then so did he.

"Well, look who's finding humour in the painful, you're officially one of the twenty first century kids now Rogers.

"Nah, we had humour back in my day, only we didn't rely on the internet to validate it."

"In my day…"

"Shut up."

"You're so old." She giggled.

"Yeah, yeah." He sighed.

"Except you're not are you? You're not even thirty yet…" she added, the laugher dying in her throat, replaced again by the sad reality that was their lives. They had all been through so much for such young people, their souls were old though, Clint told her that all the time. And old souls could cope with anything.

"Guess it's nice to lead an eventful life, right?" was all he said before they both gave in to sleep. Yeah eventful was one very generous way of putting it.

"Okay… so this could have gone better." Natasha mused as she woke up in chains. Apparently you could house an army in a mountain, who knew.

Well, they did, NOW.

She looked to her left and saw him, super-cuffed to a steel wall. She was in more old fashioned chains hanging from the ceiling. They had got the jump on both of them using some kind of invisible gas. Enough to knock even Captain American out for a significant amount of time. She had no idea just how long they were both out of it for.

It had started so well, they were winning, they had infiltrated and they were slowly but surely making their way through the facility. However, knowing now what was to come, it was clear they were rats being led into a maze by the big cheese.

"You think?" he answered, his voice rough, his mouth bleeding, "You okay?"

She twisted herself on her chains so she was facing him. She winced. He was in bad shape, one eye closed from hits he obviously took while unconscious. What brave men they were, to whale on a knocked out man.

"If I can get free of these chains I will be, yours though, they seem harder to break."

Beside Steve she noted a table with a tarp, covering what she could guess was an array of weapons.

Great.

"They're SHIELD issue, magnetised Super Soldier restraints apparently."

"Yes apparently Mr Rogers, and thankfully they seem to be holding up just fine."

Nat spun around to see three guards flanking an older man, thinning hair, dust covered uniform, steely expression.

"Strucker, your welcome wagon could use some work," Natasha spat as he took steps further into the dank cell. "Not really feelin' the love right now." She said as he just smiled, before he slapped her hard enough to spin her back toward Steve.

Ouch.

"Itsy bitsy needs to keep her mouth shut. I was talking with the Captain."

She rolled her eyes, spitting out the blood from her mouth.

"Captain Rogers you think we didn't see you coming? You think we haven't had eyes on you since Washington? Silly children, picking fights you don't belong in."

"Well, not to be childish," Steve began, "but you started it."

"You hold your grudges for a long time." He said with a sinister smile, lifting the tarp and reaching for a spike, he unceremoniously stuck it into Steve's side. He locked his jaw to stop from making a sound other than a grunt. "Though, bringing your boy out of the freezer probably reignited that fire in you, if the wreckage of project insight was any indication."

"I would have objected to that either way, but if you thought for one minute that I was going to let you keep using him once I found out –"

The older man just laughed then, it sent a sick shiver through Natasha.

"You still don't know do you? We had never intended to use him after that mission, he was done."

Somehow Steve doubted being Hydra's Asset ended with a cushy retirement package.

"He comes complete with a kill switch, one he would self-activate when we had… made proper use of him and disposed of you. His usefulness was no longer … necessary. Once we had those weapons in the air, why bother with one unpredictable weapon."

"But he got away from you." Steve spat, defiant.

"And you, it would seem." The other man added before turning on his heel to Natasha, yanking the spike out of Steve's side, he tapped it against her cheek – blood everywhere.

"But not this one it would seem. This one knows more than she lets on, isn't that right little spider."

Natasha just moved her head out of his way, the warm trickle of Steve's blood ran down her face.

"She knows where he's been, where he's going next, where he likes to spend his nights…"

She looked at Steve then; he clearly wasn't buying what Strucker was selling, thankfully.

"Oh do tell him Natalia. Tell him how his boy isn't just his, hasn't been for a while. Tut, tut. So many secrets for one small woman."

With that he rammed the spike into her ribs. She unlike Steve couldn't help but cry out.

"NAT!" Steve called but it was pointless.

"Tell him." He came in close to her face, his nose to her other cheek. "Tell him how you've been meeting with the man he searches for so desperately, tell him that our Asset has been providing you with intel, sending you on a goose chase, spending his nights in your bed." Through the pain she attempted look to Steve, to see if the look of disbelief was still present.

Sadly, it wasn't.

"He's lying, right?" he asked, so desperate, and she couldn't lie anymore, but she sure as hell was going to give their captors a show. She just blinked slowly, looking back at the man in front of her, who now had a smaller blade, and instead of heading toward Steve with it, he approached her.

"Am I lying Spider?"

When she didn't answer, he just smiled, slashing at her arms, two straight cuts, with minimum effort for maximum blood loss.

"No, clearly I'm not, but she's trained well, she won't rat herself out. Always look out for number one, isn't that right?" He was moving to slash at her sides when Steve distracted him.

"And now what? You just going to kill us? Slowly and for show?"

"Why not, it would send a delicious message to the Avengers wouldn't it?"

"You think it would make them stop hunting you? You're even dumber than you look, if anything they'll come for you full force."

"If they find me it won't matter much, as you well know Captain, we are everywhere. Even right under your nose for so long."

"We won't rest until every last one of your base of operations is in smithereens. Until every one of you is dead or captured."

For his sass, Steve got electrocuted from the cuffs on his wrists and then two spikes to the ribs.

Natasha was losing too much blood too fast; she was starting to feel wonky, and couldn't continue the assault on her cuffs that she had become the moment she woke.

"I can feel the righteousness, it's inspiring, really. Sadly you'll be too dead to do any of those things and we can already multiply quicker than you can kill us."

"Like rats." He said with a wince. "Most of the rats went down with the ship; you think we can't do that again and again?"

The older man merely smiled.

"The fight never ends, Captain. But your will to fight it has been waning, and soon, you will give up. Lay down to your fate, let it all end. Let someone else fight, you've done your duty. You tried."

Finally, Natasha got the lock on her cuffs to spring, freeing her arms, just as Steve received a spike to the lung.

Fuck.

Using her chains, she took out the guards, leaving her to weakly attempt an attack on the villain of the piece.

That was until the cell door literally blew open, shocking them both, and even a half unconscious Steve looked surprised.

Steve's shield in hand, Barnes stood his face half covered in someone else's blood. He noted the scene in front of him with a grimace. Speaking to Natasha in Russian as he approached and grabbed Strucker by the throat.

"This is getting him to stop then?"

"I tried; you know what a stubborn guy he is!" She answered back in English, as he looked from her to the man he held by the throat.

"Now that one, you can kill." She commented, limping to where Steve was hanging, looking for a switch, something, and anything, to deactivate his cuffs and try to apply some pressure on his bleeding. He was fading fast, she could barely stand. If they had more backup, which she assumed they did, they were fucked.

"Nat… what's going on?" he tried to speak, his lip swollen, his eye now fully closed, she hated seeing him like this.

"Don't speak okay; we're going to get you out of here…"

She heard the snap of a neck and she knew this was over, for now at least.

"Bucky?" he asked and the dark haired man merely assessed his damage with a frown, before wielding the shield to snap the connection of the super cuffs to the metal wall. Steve fell gracelessly into Natasha's arms, not that she was much help, both of them landing on the ground.

"Steve it's okay, okay? I've got you… we've got you, we're going to get you out of here, okay?" she said all but petting his blood soaked hair from his face. Steve grabbed Bucky's jacket, gripping it as hard as he could. A wordless conversation was taking place between them, one that only decades of friendship could produce, whatever was said, Barnes took action.

"Come on, there will be more of them and I uh… rigged this place to blow in ten minutes, there's a window in the next room, we can jump."

"Uh… No?" Natasha protested. "Look this might be your thing, you and him, jumping off shit and surviving, but guess what, not all of us have that skill."

"No, but you will." He said as Steve all but passed out on his arm as he hoisted him up and dragged them both into the next room, alarms were going off everywhere and Natasha was finding it hard to keep her eyes open.

Barnes used the shield to smash the window; there was sloped mountain side outside, that led God only knows where.

"Are you fucking insane?!" She yelled at him in her mother tongue. He just shrugged.

"It'll be fun." He said before grabbing her, positing the shield just so it carried the three of them, and just slid. Slid like they were bobsledding in a park, except it was down a God Fucking Damn Mountain.

She held no shame in the fact that she passed out, none at all.

She woke up to a hell of a headache and the sound of a fire crackling.

Shooting upright, she was greeted by Steve's smiling face.

"There you are. You've been out a while I was starting to worry."

She cocked a brow at him.

"Okay, worry more." He checked her head wounds gently without permission, he was one of two people that could do that and not get kicked in the balls. "You heal fast too."

Yeah, long story, she thought.

"You?"

"I heal faster." He said with a nod, handing her a hot cup of something.

"Him?"

His smile faded.

"He's gone."

"Goddamnit."

"No… we talked, I mean a little, and he brought us here. I'm not sure how, but he did."

Looking around she realised she was back in the SHIELD safe house.

"Fixed me up, fixed you up too… when I woke up it was just he and I. You were still out of it."

"And?"

He shrugged.

"And I've called Stark for backup, we're going home."

"But –"

"He'll come when he's ready, I need to accept that."

She grabbed his hand then, wanting desperately to make him understand. He snapped it back like she burned him, and while she should have accepted it. It hurt all the same.

Her hands started to shake.

"It's the adrenaline, isn't that what you told me once?" he commented, moving to the window, he was fine now, merely hours ago he was on death's door, and now it was just a few grazes.

That serum was the shit.

"Steve I'm –"

"Don't okay? Please don't. I don't want this …" he waves between them, "to end on more lies. He told me it was a long story and I accept that it's one I have no business knowing." His soft tone now replaced with his Captain commanding voice. This time she wasn't letting it get to her.

"End?"

"The mission is done, might not have had the outcome we wanted, but Stark … Shield needs us."

"There is no shield not anymore."

"It's remaking itself, there will always be missions. This one, this whatever it was, is over."

" I am sorry Steve."

And she was more than she had been sorry in a long time.

"I said I don't want to hear it, Natasha."

"Well maybe I have to say it, you ever think of that?"

"Like you couldn't have said it every damn day this past few months!?"

"Do you think this was easy for me? From the minute I met you I knew. I knew the guilt you carried in your head, the pain and sadness you kept wrapped up inside you. And I knew and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it. You mourned your friend, your life with him, blaming yourself for his death when the truth is I knew, I knew what happened to him was a fate far worse than a sudden stop at the end of a long fall."

"Because the truth isn't all things to all people? Or because it was convenient for you?"

That hit her, but she didn't let it show.

"What did you want me to say? Hi nice to meet you, say you know your long dead BFF guess what we used to love each other once upon a time. That he was forced into making me into a weapon as he was made the same, and it ended bloody and heart-breaking? I don't think so, Steve."

"We've worked together, weekly missions, meetings, we've … I thought we had become friends!"

"We have!"

"I trusted you, I relied on you, hell I told you things…that I …Jesus Nat. Is this how you treat your friends?"

"I wouldn't know you're only the second one I've had in my whole life!"

That stunned him, though it shouldn't have.

"You want to know why I couldn't tell you. One, it wasn't my place – he wasn't ready – and a guy who hasn't had the chance to make a choice for himself in the last almost seventy years… I figured he deserved the shot to make his own damn mind up. And two and this is on me, is that you… Jesus, you have this way of just making me want to be good. And I'm not."

"Bullshit."

"No! Not bullshit, Steve, not bullshit. You look at me like I hung the moon and that terrifies me. You see me as this person that helps people, and I do that now, but that doesn't erase all the lives I took because I could."

"You think I haven't killed? You think I didn't spend years in a war killing kids my own age because that's what you were meant to do? How is that different?"

"My guess is you never liked it."

"I was never conditioned to like it!"

And there it was. The reason, the reason why she was what she was. Just like the Winter Soldier, little Natalia never had a chance, they mind-fucked her from the start, only she had never accepted it, blaming always herself before anyone else.

She was truly shaking now and he noticed, grabbing both her hands and placing them on his chest.

"Breathe, Nat. Breathe."

And she did, in and out, the woozy feeling returning to her head. She took a seat, never letting go of his hands.

"I was scared to admit the truth because our truth – whatever we are – was still so confusing to me, adding my history …and present with him into it just… I didn't want to hurt you Steve; I care about you too much for that. But he means…he meant the world to me at one point and that is hard to let go of."

Steve just smiled, and it wasn't the reaction she expected.

"I know the feeling, the exact feeling."

He cupped her face in his hand, thumb grazing gently over the split on her lip.

"He loves you." She said, "And I …" she looked at him, in that way that he knew what she was trying to say but wasn't really ready to say it.

"Me too," he answered for her, she never was one for using those four little letters, not really. She showed her love in other ways, like taking a bullet for you, or making you pancakes, or following you around Europe for a year on a mission to find your brainwashed best friend slash boyfriend.

You know the little things.

Grazing her lip again he thought better than to kiss her, instead he took both her hands in his and kissed her there.

Of all things, that's what made her blush.

"What do we do now?" She asked, after all they were still on mission, at least until the cavalry arrived, and he was their leader.

"Now…" he sighed, taking the mess of bandages and pins into a bundle for the fire, "Now we go home and wait. Or not wait, we just go home and hope that soon he'll work up the courage to come too. I told him he could, that he should… that we both… everyone would want him there. But he's a suborn son of a bitch when he wants to be."

"Reminds me of someone else…" she said with a smile.

"Yeah….yeah." he nodded bashfully before she pulled him back down to the couch where she sat, this time curling herself around him like a cat. Wounds or no wounds, she wanted him close.

"Let's go home."

Settling their bags down in his apartment, she looked out over the snow falling over Manhattan, relishing how beautiful it looked from the inside looking out, decidedly less so on the outside looking in. November and the soft flurry outside reminded them that they'd been gone almost a year. They had a lot of catching up to do, as promised by the various notes tacked to his fridge.

Stark had laid out pizza and beers on the kitchen counter too – or rather she suspected Pepper had.

She smiled at Steve as he dug in, his stomach had been rumbling from the plane.

"Mowd so gowd –"

"What?"

He chewed and swallowed.

"God, so good."

She just smiled, grabbing a massive slice for herself. She had to agree, damn she missed this. Just them, hanging out and getting stuffed on junk food together. Catching him up on pop culture, just being them it was her favourite hobby now.

"I should dump my stuff next door –"she suggested after they had ate the entire pizza and demolished a few beers each, she was sleepy. From the looks of it, he was too; he was all but passed out on the massive grey couch that took up most of the living area space.

"Mmm no, later if you want. Nap now."

"Nap – Steve –"

"Shh…" With that, he grabs her hand and twists them so he's the big spoon and there is some serious couch cuddling going on. "Nap now, decisions later." He squeezed her tighter, she liked it.

"Decisions."

"Mm big life changing, healing, decisions... later."

The unspoken conversation between them was that this thing was in fact a 'thing' now. Small kisses were exchanged, lingering hugs, and they had spent the entire plane ride within an inch of the other. Yeah whatever this was, it was happening. But, he was right, decisions had to be made, but later was a good time for that. Because there was one person missing from the equation before any concrete decisions could in fact be made.

And he needed to come home.

A week before Christmas, Natasha came home to find them both sitting on the couch.

"Great," she said, not breaking her stride, "I brought enough for three."

There was no mistaking the small smile on James' face, overshadowed only slightly by the massively blinding one on Steve's.

Yeah, decisions could be made together now everyone was home.

At last.