"You either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain." - Harvey Dent
He could hear voices in the distance, and it wasn't just because of his enhanced hearing. They were close – SHIELD was close, Hydra was close, but aren't those two of the same things? Like a trick penny that only reads tails.
Steve's body ached from trying to protect Natasha from the crumbling walls all around once the missile hit. It was a trap, Zola had said so himself, well the computer with Zola's brain said so – this was all so confusing. Even at his super soldiered state, his brain was still having trouble processing all this new information so fast. He really wished Natasha would wake up, she was the best at that. She would be able to put her emotions aside, and figure this out, come up with a plan, and set him up on a date in the meantime. But here, right now, she was out cold, and the footsteps were getting louder.
He was Captain America, he was supposed to be able to save everyone, but that was a lie. It was hard to find the truth these days. Fury was dead, the only man that might have had the slightest clue to what the hell this mess really was, and how to put an end to it. Steve needed to find the Winter Soldier, he needed to leave now. He could hear Rumlow's voice, he could barely hear Natasha's breathing.
He picked up his shield and he left.
Natasha remembered an explosion, the flash of red, white, and blue, but then nothing. Everything was blank. For a second she thought that SHIELD would get her out of this one, but then she remembered that there was no SHIELD, and that Fury was dead.
Regimens fall every day, I try not to weep over that, I'm Russian, or I was, then why did she keep picturing his lifeless body cold on a metal table. Don't do this to me, Nick, but he already did.
There was a pounding in her head, but when she tried to move, she found that her hands were strapped down to something. A chair? Panic rose up in her gut, as she started to struggle. She heard the familiar sound of guns being loaded and pointed at her, so she froze, and slowly opened her eyes. Everything was dark, then blurry, but when her vision finally cleared, her only thought was, Shit.
"Good morning, Agent Romanoff," said the nonchalant voice of Andrew Pierce, as if she wasn't bound to a chair, as if people she used to work with weren't pointing guns at her right now. "I assume you have some questions; I do to, but ladies first."
"You killed Fury," she said through clenched teeth.
"Ahh, well that was the Winter Soldiers doing, I just planned it," he said with a twisted smile.
"He trusted you," she stated.
"That's why it was so easy to get away with it. You see Nick and me go way back, but he was getting too close to my plan, to Hydra, and we don't let anything get in our way," he said gesturing to her.
"If you're gonna kill me just do it already," she said angrily.
"Natasha – may I call you Natasha? How about Nat? Captain Rogers seemed very fond of that nickname," Pierce said, and her heart sank. "You and him were friends, were you not?" he asked.
"We were partners, nothing more. I trusted him—"
"But did he trust you? You are the great Black Widow, you eat men like him for breakfast, yet I saw the way he looked at you. With admiration, respect, maybe even something more, but trust was not on the list, I mean if you were such good friends, then why are you here right now, instead of him? Never leave a man behind, isn't that what they teach you in the army?"
"Whatever he did, I'm sure he did it for a reason," she said, less strong then she would have hoped.
"I'll make you a deal. Tell me where Rogers is, and I'll let you go, hell I'll even give you a promotion, but I promise you everything else will be worse."
"Go to hell," she shouted, earning a back hand across her face.
Her eyes stung, but she was determined to not show any weakness. He didn't deserve it, Hydra didn't deserve it.
In the background she could hear the electric sound of machines being turned on. "Fury spoke highly of you, and I really hoped you were smarter than this," Pierce said.
She could feel hands all over her body. People were putting stickers with wires attached to them on her head. Someone tightened the restraints on her wrists, and ankles, and then attached one across her chest right below her rib cage. It wasn't until she saw Pierce pick up what looked like a mouth guard, that her blood ran cold.
"I've read your file Agent Romanoff. I know what they did to you back at the KGB, or should I say the Red Room. Your SHIELD issued phycologist said experiments had been done on your brain, memories had been wiped, false ones added. Some would call it brainwashing, but I like to call it reprograming," Pierce said while putting the mouth guard into her mouth. "I bet you wake up from nightmares of things you may have done, crimes you may have committed, horrors you may be responsible, but you don't know if any of it is true. With a push of a button I can make that ten times worse, so ask yourself, 'Would you die for Steve Rogers?'"
"Your world in the balance, and you bargain for one man?" she heard Loki saying in her ear.
Natasha didn't answer, she just closed her eyes, and dug her nails into her palms with enough force to draw blood.
He would die for me, she thought.
"Welcome to Hydra," said Pierce, right before typing something on a computer. "You're going to feel a little pinch."
It felt like a thousand needles were stabbing her skin everywhere. She was on fire, yet she was stuck in ice. She couldn't move, and there was the almost blinding light everywhere around her that shocked her head every time she moved.
She screamed until her voice went hoarse, and her lips dry, but the pain didn't stop.
She tried to think of anything to take the focus off the jolts of electricity racing through her body. She tried to think of Clint, and Steve, but the longer she did, the harder it became to remember their faces, their voices, and soon enough their names slipped her mind completely.
There was so much blood on her hands that all she could see was red.
Training. Learning. Killing. . !
I am Natasha Romanoff, agent of SHIELD. Wait no, my name is Natalie Alianovna Romanova, Russian ballerina, soviet spy – that can't be right.
The light grew so bright her head wanted to explode.
The Black Widow does not feel. You are the Black Widow.
The light suddenly stopped.
"Everyone's trying to kill me," Steve said, as soon as Sam opened the door to his house.
His clothes were covered in dirt and grime from the explosion, and his body was tired from being on the run.
When on the run, walk don't run, Natasha had said back at the mall. That had only been a few hours ago, but it felt like a lifetime. He didn't even know if she was still alive.
Sam invited him into the house, and Steve cleaned up in the bathroom. He couldn't stop feeling like he was getting another person involved in a war that wasn't their fight. He washed the grime off his arms, and neck, and then his face. The cloth rubbed his lips, the same lips that Natasha had kissed not too long ago while on an escalator. Would that be the last time?
Who do you want me to be?" she asked.
How bout a friend," Steve replied, but did he want something more?
Was it too late to even think like that? Was it his fault?
She didn't know where she was. Everything was dark, and every thought wasn't her own. She knew that her handlers at the Red Room would punish her for getting captured, but did she still work for them? Her head hurt – something wasn't right, but then again, it never was in her line of work.
"Welcome back Widow," said a voice, but she didn't recognize it.
"Кто ты? Что вы хотите от меня?" Who are you? What do you want from me, she spoke in fluent Russian.
"My name isn't important. Just know that right now you work for Hydra, and we're giving you a mission," Pierce said.
"And what would that be?" she asked, switching back into English, no Russian accent evident at all.
"I need you to eliminate Captain America."
"Why would I do that?"
Pierce paused, frustration clear on his face. "Put her under, there's more work to be done, and this time don't stop until you get it right!" he shouted.
Everyone started rushing around. She couldn't comprehend why these people were so scared of the man giving the orders. She has killed men half his size.
What was going on here?
The bright light was back, but it was worse this time. The buzzing of a machine starts, and grows louder by the second, soon overshadowing the strange voices in the room. The voices quickly become fainter, turning into nothing more than whispers, and it takes too much energy trying to listen, and stay alert, so she closes her eyes, and tries not to forget to breathe, while she unconsciously forgets everything else.
Nothingness. That was all she had to hold onto. There were no memories, only training, and talent to keep her grounded now.
Deep down something in her ached, but that didn't matter. Her only purpose now was to serve. Get the mission, complete the mission, and let nothing stand in her way.
Terminate Captain America, her next mission, and she wouldn't let anything get in her way.
SHIELD was Hydra, Hydra was SHIELD, but who was Steve? Was there a man under the mask? Or just a soldier who never quite made it back home. It was days like this that gave him the chills, that made him feel like he was back in the ice, trapped, forgotten, useless; as the world went to flames around him, he lay frozen in place.
Trust used to be like a coupon – easy to give out, and you always got a deal, but it was turning into something else, something darker. When had the simple things in life become so rare? When had people stopped being able to trust others, when had people become so untrustworthy? Is trust just another way to say twisted lie? Had a life insurance become a life sentence?
Natasha would know the answer, and even if she didn't, she'd pretend that she did. I only act like I know everything, Rogers. She had said that when he went back to the hospital Fury had died in to get the hard drive. He had just been attacked in an elevator by people he once worked with, people he once trusted, but that had all stabbed him in the back. He was even starting to doubt Natasha, and he didn't know what would be worse. Finding out she was Hydra, or blaming her for being hydra, but being wrong? She would never forgive him, he would never forgive himself, so he prayed to God that she was on his side.
He let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding in after finding out she wasn't Hydra. There was still hope.
Now driving with Sitwell in the backseat, and Sam at the wheel, he couldn't help but feel like the hope was running out.
She was watching them. Kill Target, and anyone that gets in your way. There was a man in the backseat. He was talking too much, he was just another information leak – he'd be the first to go.
Then the fun could really start.
It all happened so fast. The flash of red when Sitwell got thrown from the car, the gunfire, the car flipping over.
Steve pulled Sam from the flying car, and landed curled up on the car door, as it slid through the street, finger nails scraping a chalkboard following.
He got up in a rush, grabbing his shield, and nothing else. He looked up, and saw that flash of red, but Hydra was already shooting at them, so he turned away, and started fighting.
People were screaming, and running for their lives. Everyone was in danger just because people wanted him dead. He dove through a bus, as the machine gun rattled on. The glass from the now shattered windows, bit at his skin, but he wasn't going to let that slow him down. Steve lunged for his shield, running out of the bus towards the man with the machine gun. The bullets ricocheted off the shield, but he pushed through it, eventually slamming it into the man, seizing the gunfire.
There were cars blowing up in the distance, and so much blood.
Steve was searching for Sam who had been taking out Hydra sniper style, but was suddenly attacked from behind. He punched and got punched, was almost stabbed a few times. He was strong, but this person was fast. He'd get a blow down, but another one would come out of nowhere.
Legs were around his neck in an instant choking him, but Steve was able to get the body off of him, and flung to the ground. Just then was he able to get a clear look at her face. Same red hair, except it was curlier. Same face, more bruises, same lips, less color, but different eyes. They were filled with anger, and pain, and lacked their green tint. It was almost like the person wasn't inside the body.
Jaw dropped, eyes widen, heart throbs, "Natasha?" he said more as a plead then a question.
"Who the hell's Natasha?" she said, voice deep, and threatening.
Gun raised, pointed at him, but he couldn't do anything. Steve stood frozen in shock, frozen in guilt, and just like that he was back in the ice – completely helpless. Sam came out of nowhere, soaring down from the sky kicking her to the ground. There was an explosion filling his vision with smoke, and when it finally cleared, she was nowhere to be seen.
"On your knees, Cap," Rumlow said, with his gun raised, the rest of the Strike Team behind him.
Steve obliged without a complaint, not because he wanted to give in, but because he didn't know what he was fighting for anymore.
"What did you do to Romanoff?" he asked Rumlow, all the emotion gone from his voice.
"You left her, and she realized what side she really wanted to be on," he said.
"She would never help Hydra, she was good," Steve muttered, hands shaking.
"Sometimes all we need is a little push to get us moving in the right direction," Rumlow stated with a smirk. "I always knew there was something going on between the two of you. It was either you or Barton, hell, knowing her, it was probably the both of you."
"Go to hell," Steve said, anger lacing his voice.
He felt the butt of a gun against the back of his head, but he didn't care if they pulled the trigger. Planes flew through the sky, probably reporters trying to get the first video of his execution. Captain America, National Icon Gone Fugitive Shot and Killed Today.
"Not here," he heard Rumlow whisper to the man holding the gun to his head.
They handcuffed him, and Sam in some ridiculously strong, and thick binds, and led them to a black van. Inside, there were two guards, heavily armed, awaiting them. They were seated, and quickly the van took off, but it didn't matter where they were going. Steve couldn't stop picturing her empty face in his head.
It's all my fault.
"The man on the bridge, I knew him," she said to Pierce.
She was back in that horrid basement, but somehow, she knew to just accept it. The thing she couldn't accept was the fact that the face she saw, Captain America's face, she recognized it from somewhere, and it wasn't just from seeing it in a picture, or something like that. She knew him.
"You saw him on a mission a few weeks ago," Pierce stated firmly.
"But I KNEW him!" she shouted, feeling something ache inside her.
Maybe it was the urge to find out the truth, like when you have a word on the tip of your tongue, but you can't seem to get it out. She didn't know what was coming over her, but she knew him, and by the look on his face, she knew that he knew her too.
Someone pointed a gun at her due to her outbreak, and she snapped, springing off the chair, throwing the man across the room. Pierce came over to her, and slapped her across the face, and she sat back down. She wanted to fight back so badly, but couldn't, and it was slowly killing her deep down.
"Your work has been a gift to mankind," he said. "You've shaped the century, and I need you to do it one more time."
"I knew him," she whispered in a hoarse voice. I know him.
"Wipe her," stated Pierce, and her heart sank.
Faces she didn't recognize started coming up to her, strapping her down in the chair, attaching things to her head. Everyone muscle in her body wanted to protest, but when they put the mouth guard in her mouth, she sat still.
The buzzing from the machine started, and her last thought was the same man from the bridge smiling at her, like she said a joke. She just wished she knew how she knew him, and who he was.
But who was she?
They were at some bar in Washington. Steve said something about not being able to get drunk, but Natasha got him a beer anyway.
"So," she said sitting back down at the table, handing him his beer. "What's your deal?" she asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Are you batting for the other team, did the ice freeze off your penis? Why won't you go out with anyone I've suggested?" she said, causing him to blush.
"No, I am not 'batting for the other team,' and the ice did not freeze off my-," he stuttered.
"Well then why don't you like any of the girls you've been on dates with? You're an attractive, kind, and intelligent man. I would say young, but that would be a lie," she said with a grin. "What I'm trying to say is you're a catch, so stop being so 1940, and just go out there, and start mingling."
"You think I'm attractive?" Steve said with a teasing smile, earning a slap to his arm.
"Stop trying to change the subject," she laughed back.
Somehow Maria Hill had disguised herself as a Hydra employee, and was able to get Steve and Sam out of the van, and into some underground warehouse where Fury happened to be, alive, but not well, though breathing, so that was a start.
At first Steve didn't know how to feel when he first laid eyes on Nick Fury's very much alive self, greeting him. He felt relieved, a little confused, but relieved none the less that he hadn't lost another friend. He just wished that he could tell Natasha that Fury was alive. He remembered the way she looked standing over Fury's 'dead' body, and he remembered the way her face looked when he fought her on the bridge – both looked similar.
"Where's Romanoff?" asked Fury, holding his side, as he attempted to sit up in bed.
"She –uh, she's with Hydra," Steve said, not quite knowing how to phrase it.
"I know she was pissed over me 'dying,' but not enough to switch sides," he said.
"It's complicated. We were attacked in New Jersey trying to follow the lead with the hard drive. The missile hit the building, and she was unconscious. People were already on foot looking for us, and I had to leave. I didn't think I could carry her the whole way. Then I ran into her on the bridge, we fought, but she didn't seem to know who I was, she didn't seem to know who she was either," Steve stated, trying not to relive it.
Who the hell's Natasha?"
Fury looked shocked, well as shocked as he could look, but there was guilt in his one eye as well. "I promised her when she joined SHIELD that she was going straight, and I promised her that she would be working for the good guys now, but now look where that got her," Fury said, more to himself than to Steve.
"I swear on my life that I will get her back, but first everything needs to go. Hydra, and SHIELD – we wipe the slate clean, but we start with Project Insight," Steve said, gaining his commanding voice back.
I swear on my life I'll bring you home.
It was October. There were leaves on the ground, red, orange, and brown one. The sun was just setting, the stars were coming out, and they had just run out of gas.
"I told you to fill up the tank after we left the hotel," Steve said, frustrated.
He was really tired from his 'time off.' Natasha called it a 'much needed vacation.' They only made a quick road trip up to New York to see Stark, and Steve wanted to visit Brooklyn, and maybe catch a baseball game. They did all of that, and it was fun. He'd never seen Natasha smile so much in so little time, but it was all too bittersweet walking the neighborhood he once lived in 70 years ago, and seeing how much it has changed.
"Cool it Cap, we're only an hour out from D.C. and Clint said he would come pick us up," she said nonchalant. "Meanwhile…" she got out of the car, and laid down on the hood of it, resting her hands behind her head.
"W-what are you doing?" Steve stammered. Had she been drinking again?
"There's no other cars on the road, the stars are out, so stop being such an old man, and come join me," she said.
Steve slid next to her on the hood, hoping he didn't dent the rental car. They only rented a car because his motorcycle couldn't fit luggage, and she didn't want to risk anything happening to her Corvette. Sometimes, Steve swore, she loved that car more than life itself.
He heard Natasha peacefully sigh besides him. "You know, I wanted to be an astronaut when I was a little kid," she said, not turning her gaze away from the stars.
"Why didn't you?" Steve asked.
"Things changed, I changed," Natasha said.
There was a slight pause of silence before Steve said, "Thanks."
"For what?" Natasha asked, averting her gaze.
"For forcing me to go back to New York, to go back home, it meant a lot," he said.
"Don't thank me, I just wanted to check out all the new weapons Stark made me," she said with a laugh.
Steve smiled, and she looked back up at the stars. As the night went on, he found himself wishing Clint never came.
She got her mission, she got her target, and it was time.
Staring at her reflection she saw heavy bags under her eyes, she couldn't remember the last time she slept. Her red hair was starting to look more and more like blood the paler her skin became, and her eyes – all she saw was a weapon, a tool. Taking her fist, she thrusted it towards the glass mirror, and only stopped a mere inch away from breaking it. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and tried to think of a memory to calm her down, but nothing came. She picked up the gun that was on the floor, and walked out the door, not looking back.
The Black Widow does not feel, then what was the throbbing pain inside her heart?
Everyone knew what they had to do. Steve was going to sneak into the Smithsonian and get his old uniform back, before going to SHEILD Headquarters and switching the chips to stop the helicarriers from doing their job. Sam was going to remain in the sky, keeping a visual, and taking out whoever got in their way. Maria Hill, was going to program the helicarriers into shooting at themselves, instead of innocent people, therefore diminishing Project Insight. Fury would come in later to help wipe the slate clean of any Hydra, and SHIELD factors.
It was a solid plan, but there was just one key factor missing. Natasha. Steve knew that she would be there, probably sent to kill him like before, he just hoped it didn't come to that. He would die if that is what had to be done, but he would make sure that everyone else lived.
Standing outside the warehouse, Sam came out to join him. "Not everyone can be saved," Sam said to him.
"Well I have to try," Steve responded, looking down. "If you had a chance to get your friend back, would you take it?"
"In a heartbeat," Sam said.
"Let's suit up."
"No, no, no, that is not how it works," Natasha said to Steve, shaking her head.
She was at his apartment, and they were watching some documentary about sharks. They were s itting in the living room, drinking a beer, eating popcorn, and Steve just had to bring up this topic.
"You set me up on date, after date, so who's to say I don't get to set you up as well?" he pushed.
"I say so," she argued back.
"Tell me, when's the last time you went on a date, a real date?" he asked.
She bit her lip, trying to think of the last time she went on an actual date, with an actual guy, that didn't involve and mission or something, but she came up blank. "Exactly," said Steve. "You can't remember."
If she wasn't so annoyed with him right now, she might have gotten a little worried to how well he can read her. "Well, I'm busy a lot, and I don't always make the best first impressions," she said.
"C'mon, the day I meant you, the world was being attacked by aliens, and you jumped off my shield, and shut off the portal; sounds like a good impression to me," he responded.
"That's different," she said. "On missions it's easy because I have a target, and one specific task to do, but in real life it's like I don't know who to be, or how to act."
"So what you're saying is that you can save the world, but you can't go on a date; that sure is a first," Steve said laughing.
"Don't laugh at me, I'm being serious," she said like a child.
"Also a first," he laughed.
Natasha threw a handful of popcorn at him. "You keep this up, and I'm making you watch Sharknado next," she threatened, though she couldn't help but smile.
I know I'm asking a lot, but the price of freedom is high, it always has been, and it's a price I'm willing to pay. And if I'm the only one, then so be it. But I'm willing to bet I'm not."
Steve was in the helicarrier. All he had to do was cross the bridge, and switch the cards out. It was all so simple, too simple to ever go as planned.
Everything was silent except the echo of his footsteps against the hard, metal floor. He was walking at a steady pace, but he stopped as soon as he saw her, blocking his path at the other end.
"People are gonna die, Nat," he said. "I can't let that happen," but she just kept staring at him, like a ghost. "Please don't make me do this," his voice cracked, but as much as he wanted her to remember him, and stop fighting, he knew nothing he said would convince her otherwise.
Steve took a deep breath, and then like lightning, he threw his shield at her. She deflected it, making it ricochet back into his hands, just in time for her to fire her gun. The bullets went off one after the other, one managing to tear through his left arm, but he wasn't going to let that stop him. Using all his force, Steve slammed his shield into her, causing her to fly to the ground. Natasha was disoriented for a moment, but if anything she just looked angry now. Taking out her knife, she moved towards Steve, but he kept on blocking her jabs. Steve kicked her back, and ran towards the deck with the cards on it, in the center. He hurriedly tried to replace one of the cards, but just when he took it out, she came up behind him. Steve got a punch in, but she got one to his face, just before diving towards him, throwing them both off the balcony. They landed on some ledge. There the fight quickly presumed.
They had sparred a lot in the past, but it was nothing like this. This was instinct, and full of rage – it wasn't meant to educate, it was meant to kill.
He was strong, but she was fast, and the card got knocked out of his hand. Steve jumped off after it, but was interrupted by his own shield being thrown at him. He fell down, but was able to shield himself when she started shooting again. Once the shots subsided, he threw his shield at her, but it was to no use. Natasha plunged the knife into his shoulder. Steve head-butted her twice, then ripped the knife out of his arm. She reached for the card that was on the ground. He then dove towards her, using his good arm to grab her throat, and life her off the ground. The card was still in her hand though, so Steve, threw her to the ground. With his one hand still around her kneck, he forced her arm holding the chip, downwards, until he heard the crack of the bone breaking. She kept fighting though, so he put her in a choke hold, until she went unconscious, and the card fell from her hand.
Steve jumped back onto the ledge, flipping himself over it, trying to make it to the deck, but he felt a bullet rip through his thigh. Limping, he made his way up the ladder, the bullets just missing him, with thirty seconds left. Just when he was about to put the card in the slot, he heard the all too familiar sound of a gun going off, followed by a burning pain in his abdomen. Steve fell to the floor, his breath coming out as gasped. Looking down, he saw red slowly staining his uniform. With only five seconds left, he pulled himself up, despite the pain, and put the card in the slot.
"Target locked," he managed to choke out.
"Okay Cap, get out of there," said the voice of Maria Hill, but there wasn't enough time for him to get out, and even if there was, he wasn't sure he'd be able to make it.
"Fire now," he said.
"But Steve—,"
"Do it, do it now!" he yelled into his comm.
Leaning on the railing, Steve watched as everything started to explode around him. Fire started to fill his vision, as he watched Natasha get crushed by the falling bridge. He dragged himself over to her struggling form, barely standing upright. Helicopters flew by as he lifted the metal debris up for her to roll out from under.
"You know me," Steve said.
"No I don't!" she responded harshly, slamming her fist into his shield.
The force threw him to the ground, but he got up anyway.
You just don't know when to quit, and it was like he was back there in Brooklyn, just some skinny kid getting beat up in an alley, except no one was there to help him this time.
"Natasha," he said breathing heavily, "You've known me for a long time," but all he earned was a punch to his face.
The helicarrier was falling from the sky, but all he could focus on was her. "Your name is Natasha Romanoff-,"
"Shut up!" she screamed, throwing all her weight at him.
Steve got up again, and ripped off his mask. He could barely stand up. "I'm not going to fight you," he said, letting go of his shield, as it fell into the fiery abyss down below. "You are my friend," he finished.
Screaming, she dove into him. "You're my mission," she said, punching him in the face, one, two, three, four, five, more times than he could count.
She raised her arm back, pausing, and Steve whispered, "Then finish it, cause I'm with you till the end of the line."
Natasha's face filled with horror, and confusion.
The man on the bridge, I knew him.
Who the Hell's Natasha? Who the Hell's Natasha? Who the Hell's Natasha? Who the Hell's Natasha?
Your name is Natasha Romanoff.
You are my friend. You are my friend. You are my friend. You are my friend.
I'm with you till the end of the line.
Something crashed onto the deck, causing Steve to fall from the helicarrier. It all happened in slow motion, yet it wasn't slow enough to do anything about. He plunged in the water, sinking slowly to the bottom.
She dragged the man up from the bottom of the Potomac, leaving him on the shore. She didn't know if he was alive or dead. She paused over his body. His face was bloody and bruised, his gunshot wounds fresh. All she knew for sure was that she had to go.
So she left.
Steve and Natasha had been sent on a mission to go Afghanistan, and track down a terrorist, who was selling SHIELD information. An agent gone rouge.
They were in the warehouse waiting for him to show, when gunfire erupted from all over. Natasha got hit in the leg, and Steve hurriedly dragged her behind some metal table. He knelt down next to her to access the wound.
"We need to get out of here, Steve," she said through clenched teeth.
"We're surrounded, gonna have to wait for backup to arrive," he said calmly back. "How's the leg?"
"Been better," she responded.
Steve ripped the sleeve off of her jacket, and tied it around her leg, to stop the bleeding.
"Hey—I liked this jacket," she said.
"Well I bet you like this leg more," he replied.
"I didn't spend a hundred bucks on my leg," she argued back.
Why were they arguing at a time like this? Steve looked down at her leg, and saw that the sleeve was already soaked in blood: not a good sign.
"Nat, I think the bullet hit an artery," he said, in a worried voice.
"Me too," she grimaced.
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"You can't get mad at me, I'm the one bleeding out here," she said, with a crooked grin.
"Now we really need to go," Steve said, but the gunfire was only getting louder.
He heard the footsteps of someone get closer and closer to the table they were hiding behind. Steve covered Natasha's mouth with his hand, in order to silence her heavy breathing from the blood loss. After a few seconds passed, he used his shield to knock the guy out, and then he picked up the gun.
"On the count of three, we go okay?" he said.
"I'm with you till the end of the line," Natasha said, and that was all the answer he needed.
One, two, three, they took off, one of her arms draped around his shoulders, as she painfully limped emto keep up. Steve was taking out guys left and right, and thankfully they made it outside where SHIELD was waiting for them.
Till the end of the line.
When Steve woke up in the hospital he didn't know what to think. Marvin Gaye was playing in the room, so he assumed Sam was nearby.
"On your left," Steve said, because no other phrase could come close to explaining how much he owed this man.
It's easy to be called a hero, to be just a brave person five minutes longer than the rest, but it's hard to follow a man into a war, with nothing but hope, courage, and will. Steve didn't think he'd ever be able to pay back Sam for risking his life for what? Not for SHIELD, not even for America, but for every innocent person out there in the world who couldn't fight for themselves, and that's what being a hero is all about.
His whole body ached, even with the very, very high dosage of morphine he was on, due to his super soldier metabolism. Steve's head hurt, his abdomen hurt, his legs, arms, and face hurt too, but laying in that hospital bed, listening to nothing but the music of Marvin Gaye, he realized that his heart ached a little less.
Fury wasn't dead, Hydra was no longer running SHIELD, and Natasha was out there somewhere. He promised that he'd bring her home, and Captain America didn't break his promises.
"A mighty pain to love it is,
And 'tis a pain that pain to miss;
But of all pains, the greatest pain
It is to love, but love in vain."
― Abraham Cowley