A/N: Here's a little something in case I can't post a story Saturday. A missing scene from Captain America: The Winter Soldier.
Out of the Woods
When Natasha Romanoff woke up, it was dark, so dark she couldn't see the face of the man carrying her. Danger was the preeminent thought in her confused mind. Before she was knocked unconscious, she had been in danger, so she prepared to defend herself from her captor.
Her move toward a weapon was stealthy, but not stealthy enough to go unnoticed by the man carrying her.
"It's been a long day, Natasha. Please don't stab me," Captain America said with weary patience.
The familiar deep voice made Natasha relax immediately. Though her head was pounding like a jackhammer, she should have recognized the feel of those strong arms. After all, it had only been a day since they held her last — albeit only for a second as they jumped through a window to escape from a grenade on the Lemurian Star. But still, that effortless strength should be unmistakable.
"Oh, it's you," she said casually. Instead of asserting her independence and demanding to be put down, she chose the unexpected route and snuggled closer to Cap's broad chest.
Steve Rogers chuckled and Natasha could sense him shaking his head in exasperation, but he continued as her willing pack mule.
"And, for your information, I wasn't going to use a knife. I was getting the Widow's Bite ready."
"Electrocution. Even better," Steve said dryly. Then he added with honest concern, "Are you all right? You've been out for awhile."
Natasha took inventory as best as she could, though she could hardly see her hand in front of her face. Literally.
"Banged up, but not seriously injured," she decided. "But I have a Hulk-sized headache."
"Yeah," Steve said apologetically. "I kept the debris from hitting you, but the blast itself …"
"Concussion by concussion, got it. Are you OK?"
"Banged up, like you said," Steve answered. His cuts and gashes were already healing.
As Natasha's mind cleared, she realized they were moving through heavy woods on a cloudy night. An occasional glimpse of a sliver of moon and peekaboo stars were the only sources of light. But Steve moved steadily, as if he was on a Brooklyn sidewalk.
"Can you see where you're going?" she asked curiously, though he obviously could.
"Pretty well. And I've been this way before — ten miles out and ten miles back during Basic. Practically killed me then. Walk in the park now, even carrying a heavy load," he teased.
She punched him gently, mindful that she couldn't see his injuries, then she asked for an update.
Steve said he dug them out. "Didn't take me as long as I expected, considering the elevator ride. Either the headquarters was built on a hill or the missile made a huge crater, maybe both. I didn't stop to look around."
He said they got away just before the arrival of the Strike Team.
"I thought they might spot us with infrared, but there might have been too much heat residue from the explosion."
"Or they were just cocksure their missile had killed us," Natasha finished for him. "That sounds like Rumlow, to be honest."
"I don't think they'll be fooled long. I left a tunnel behind me."
"Guess you're not going to be able to return that car you 'borrowed'," Natasha said.
"Good thing I memorized the name off the registration," Steve said placidly. "If we survive this, I'll have to pay him back."
"And if we don't survive?"
"They maybe Hydra will cut him some slack because Captain America stole his car," Steve said. "I'm sure they'll find the pieces when they investigate."
"No sign of pursuit?" Natasha asked.
"Just a couple of deer and they didn't want anything to do with us," Steve answered.
"Smart deer. We're poison. SHIELD is after us. We can't go to the authorities because SHIELD is the authorities. We can't trust anyone."
"There must be someone we can trust," Steve argued. "Barton? Stark?"
There was a tiny catch in Natasha's voice when she thought about Clint being killed by Hydra or, worse, being Hydra. "No, everyone we trust will be watched by someone we can't."
"Not everyone," Steve said thoughtfully. "The guy I was with when you picked me up yesterday morning."
"Black guy. Ex-military. Nice smile. Nice muscles, too," she categorized.
"That's the one. No one will be watching him. And he helps people. Literally, he helps people for a living."
"That's better than any idea I have," Natasha admitted. "Do you know where he lives?"
"No, but I know where he goes running in the morning. We can follow him home from there."
The woods began to thin. Natasha saw streetlights through the trees. She looked up and saw Steve's bruised and dirty face. He looked tired, but determined.
"Sounds like a plan," Natasha said, as Steve set her on her feet, now that she could see where to put them. "What do we do first?" she asked.
Steve shook his head in amusement. "Steal another car," he answered, as if it should be obvious, which it should have been.
Remembering where Steve said he got his car theft experience, Natasha joked, "It's like Nazi Germany all over again." Which wasn't so funny with Hydra around, she realized a moment too late.
"Not if I can help it," Steve vowed grimly, and led the way out of the woods.