Hello everyone. First of all this is my first Captain America Fanfiction story, so please go easy on me.

Second of all. There are hints of Natasha/Steve in this story, but nothing past thoughts and unspoken words. Nothing really relationship wise. It is an Angst/Hurt/Comfort Fanfic. Not a Romance fic.

Also, I put this in the Captain America section because it happens some time after The Winter Soldier. It is not directly related to it, but it deals with the 'new friendship' between Steve and Natasha.

The story is rather dark, but it's got nothing seriously dark.

And it is in Natasha's Point Of View. Read on, ~Leopardfang

The air was clean, precise. It blew my hair away from my face, making it stream behind me in scarlet waves. I couldn't remember when my hair had gotten that long, but that didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore.

The temperature was just right, not to cold but not too hot, it was perfect. The ground beneath my combat boots was a vivid green, each piece perfectly aligned, but the perfection ended suddenly when it stopped at a light grey rock, a gravestone.

The silence around me was endless, never broken. No birds were singing and no crickets were chirping, it was just silence. Silence that stretched on for miles in every direction. Silence that was so complete, so endless. So meaningless.

My whole life was meaningless.

Who was I fooling? I wasn't anything special, I didn't deserve my title. I wasn't a hero, I was an assassin. I wasn't surrounded in light, I was shrouded in darkness. I could trick myself into thinking that I was needed, that I was doing good. But I wasn't I was just… nothing.

I was useless.

I had just tricked myself, tricked everyone. Made them believe my life was worth something, made them believe that I could be saved. But I couldn't. My hands were stained with the blood of many. I had no salvation, I was too far gone. It was like I was drowning and there was a hand right below the surface. Reaching for me, trying to help. But it was too late, too much water had already filled my lungs. I was hopeless- a lost cause.

I realized then, that I wasn't nothing. I was something, something horrible. A murderer. A betrayer. A monster. I didn't deserve anyone's help. I didn't deserve anything. My head dropped, my lips moving in soft whispers, "I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry"

There was no one close enough to reply, no one knew where I was. They probably thought that I ran off like the coward I had proven myself to be. I screwed up, I had let them see how imperfect I am. I had let them see that I wasn't all strength, I showed them that a venerable person was hidden beneath all this leather.

My hands fell limp, the single deep red rose falling from my pale trembling hands. I could still see his face, screaming at me. Screaming at me to fight, screaming at me to help. But I just stood there, paralyzed with fear. And he died for it.

I fell to my knees in front of the grave, tracing the letters. The gravestone was cold, the letters still sharp from where they were engraved. "You never deserved this, I'm sorry. So very sorry."

I was crying now. I hadn't cried since I was a little kid. I had stayed strong, stayed positive. Well until I had realized just how much I had failed. Until I saw that it was all a mask, I wasn't strong. I was just to shattered to realize that I was vulnerable. To shattered to put up a strong defense, to shattered to deceive everyone.

I licked my lips, tasting the salt there. I then sucked in an uneven breath. I shouldn't cry. I was the Black Widow, I didn't cry. Well until I did cry. But that was over now, I would make it be over. I would just have to pull myself together.

I would have to pull myself together- just to fall apart again later.

It was then that the silence was broken, broken by quiet words. The words were said so quietly and breathlessly that I could almost mistake them for the wind. But the voice was unmistakable, the voice belonged to Steve Rodgers, the Captain America that was so full of light and hope. If only his words were true, if only his loyalty wasn't blind.

"It's not your fault."

I knew that he was behind me, and I could almost picture him there. His bright blue eyes crinkled with the worry that coated his voice. The worry was false though, he didn't trust me anymore. How could he trust me? I had gotten his best friend killed, I had almost gotten us all killed.

His hands fall on my shoulders, and he sits down beside me. His hands are calloused and strong, but they were also warm and gentle. He speaks again, his voice still coated in concern and empathy, "Natasha"

I don't look at him. He is lying, he is deceiving me. And I didn't think that right now I could look into a snarling face. He was not to be trusted, no one could be trusted.

"Natasha, Look at me"

His voice is gravely, tired, worn. But the concern is still there, and I wonder why he hasn't swung a fist at me yet. He should have, this is always how it went. I trust someone and then let them down, then after I failed them they get angry and feel betrayed. And we all know what happens when you feel betrayed, you feel confused and hurt. You just can't believe that that person could just throw away your trust so easily, you entrusted them and this is what you get in return. You get your heart ripped out of your chest, then stomped into a million sharp pieces.

Warmth suddenly traced my chin, and gentle pressure was applied to make my head turn. I found myself looking into an endless expanse of blue, Bright Sharp Deep blue. Steve's eyes, twinkling with concern, real true concern. His hand was still on my chin and his fingertips traced my cheek, spreading the warmth that he held.

"It was not your fault, he fought in what he believed. He lived an honorable life and had an honorable death, he would have wanted to die by your side. He was so selfless, dying for you. Do you want to know why he thought you were worth dying for? It was because he knew you. He believed in you, Natasha. Just as I do."

I didn't say a word, just spent a moment considering his words, My paranoia carefully deciding if he was being honest. He sounded honest, his words sounded kind. It was almost like he was trying to help me, trying to save me. Just as he saved the world, just as he saved lives. He was like a light, a beacon of hope. And I was like a moth, hiding behind its simple beauty and disguising all its faults. But I was drawn to the light, I wanted to pretend that it could destroy the darkness that surrounded me. But even in bright light there are shadows. Shadows of those lost, shadows of those you couldn't save.

And it was then I understood.

I had been blind my whole life. I had strived for perfection. But perfection wasn't possible, you could just try your best and hope to chase away your demons. But they would always be there, haunting you, taunting you with 'What if' and 'How Could You.' But I knew that there was someone that could help me when I was lost, someone to guide the way- Someone who knew that he wasn't perfect but that he could try to be. His name was Steve, Steve Rodgers.

He stood up, his hand falling from my chin as he found his footing on the grass. He offered a hand towards me, and I took it; Letting him pull me to my feet, letting him steady me when I stumbled.

Trusting him.

Trusting that we would always be there for me, trusting that even when I was broken he would still be by my side. As I would always be there for him, no matter what.

I knew then, that we would never speak about this moment. That tomorrow we would just pretend that we were perfect, we would act like we know what we are doing, but we would always know that someone was there to help and understand.

We would always understand that perfection wasn't something that was out of reach, something you had to reach no matter the cost, it was rather something that you just had to accept. Something that made me wonder when the lines between colleges and friends had blurred between Steve and I. Something that I could only wonder about, something so marvelous and amazing. For now perfection wasn't what I wanted. What I wanted was acceptation for what I was, what I am with all my faults. Only one person accepted me like this, a person by the name of Steve Rodgers.

I knew that I had something new that I would die for, and something new I will live for.

How did you like the story? since this is my first Captain America Fanfiction so I'm not really sure how well it is written. I hope you liked this story, I would love some favorites, follows, or reviews. ~Leopardfang