Hi guys! I hope you're doing great! It's the middle of May and I just came back from a snow storm! I still can't believe it!

Anyway, here's the new chaper, I hope you'll enjoy! And thanks for the reviews!

TS


Wakanda

A loud meowing erupted from her bag and Natasha could no longer ignore it.

"I know it sucks Liho, but you should be glad we're still alive with the shit that happened!"

She ignored the next flow of protests coming from the black cat in her bag. Natasha kept walking, putting her weight on the two thick branches that she used as makeshift crutches. Isaiah had been a pro and found her a plane in the time limit she had given him, although it was more out of habit and to annoy him than real necessity, she would have waited a couple of hours if need be.

She had landed on Kenyan soil with a small private jet. Isaiah had been very specific in giving her the exact source of her transportation because he knew she always wanted to know. Knowledge was power in her line of work and she was the Avenger that always kept tabs on everyone and everything. After all, she couldn't let her excellent memory and sense of analysis go to waste. She had learned how to keep information secret though and had learned that some things were better left in her memory than on a flash drive. One incident had almost cost her her life and the trust of her friends. Fortunately, their secrets hadn't been that much spilled (was there anything left after Project Insight and the fall of SHIELD?) and everything went back to order.

So this source that possessed a private jet that flew all the way to Africa without too much questions was a former contractor. A guy she remembered saving the neck of during the time Isaiah still worked for her. Well, technically he still did, but it was almost a thing of the past now that her web was wearing thin. Isaiah still did jobs and errands for her whenever she asked and would more act as a lawyer than anything else. She couldn't blame him and was glad he wasn't 24/7 on her cases because that had gotten him in harm's way. The source had reluctantly agreed and Isaiah had promised he was even with the Black Widow and Natasha had crossed this source from her mental list of potential helpers. Not that the list was very long and Natasha tended not to rely on it, those people were known to be backstabbers.

Once she had arrived in Kenya not very far from the Kilimanjaro, she had borrowed without asking a bike, the kind that Steve would frown upon because it was "too modern". She liked that kind of stuff though. But she had to admit, seeing Cap pull over on his old school bike turned her slightly on. Not that she would ever admit that, even to herself. Especially to herself.

Things went south when she crossed the Kenyan-Azania border. People started shooting at her and in the midst of action; she didn't stop to consider why they were doing so. They could have been part of a terrorist group, of an international organization like SHIELD was or even the local police for all she knew. In other circumstances, she might have investigated, if not for work than just for her own curiosity. But she was exhausted, wounded and the injury on her thigh was bleeding again. During the crossfire, her bike had been hit and the fuel tank was pierced. She had ditched her cat's cage and placed Liho inside her own bag to avoid having things get in the way. Her cat was too scared by all the noise to do anything else than hang on one of her shirts for dear life, her green eyes so big and round they seemed to be about to pop out of fear.

Luckily, Natasha hadn't scored an extra injury with that stunt, just slightly aggravated her twisted ankle. Once the bike had run out of fuel, Natasha had left it on the side of the dusty road and had entered the dense tropical forest. It was more of a jungle actually. She had no idea when she crossed the border between Azania and Wakanda, but the air quickly became thick and damp, making her walk more difficult. The flora was also bushier and wilder, almost as if it didn't want her there.

And yeah, her injuries hurt like a bitch. She needed to take frequent stops to catch her breath because just walking for half a mile tired her more than she liked. She couldn't properly walk and had picked the two branches hours ago. She was now leaning on them like an old lady, panting as if she was in labor and the pain that shot from her legs with each step made her want to die. Of course, her painkillers had worn off and she didn't have any left. She had also run out of water and the only thing she had to eat in her bag was the food for her cat. She didn't touch it tough: she hadn't sunken that low yet.

Liho made another noise of complaint and Natasha sighed before turning to the side, her weight pressed on one of the branches (she had ditched the other, using them both was being too tiring and she was forced to put some weight on both her legs anyway).

"I can't let you out, Liho," she panted. "There are black panthers here, you'll get eaten. And I don't want to lose you: you don't exactly have a collar spelling "property of Black Widow" around your neck. Besides…" she looked at the sky that she could just barely see through the canopy of thick jungle leaves the size of truck wheels. "It's gonna rain soon."

Liho's head appeared briefly through the large gap Natasha had left open on her bag to let her cat breathe. A meow of complain just made the former assassin smile. "I know I can't wait to get there too." She pressed on, walking slower than ever. She felt like a slug. It shouldn't even be called walking at this point. She simply used the stick to bare her weight when she was making two steps, first the left with the bullet hole on her thigh then the right with her twisted ankle.

She was too stubborn to seek shelter when rain started pouring in heavy damp sheets on her head. Liho pulled back inside the bag when the first drops fell on her fur and it almost made Natasha smile. Almost, because at that same moment, she lost her footing and fell on her knees, the wound on her thigh searing with pain, making her wince and scream. "Oh god that hurts!" she let out with a few Russian curses. She tried to get back to her feet but the weight of the rain seemed to press on her shoulders, keeping her low. Her legs wouldn't budge either as if they had been turned to stone.

She fell face first in the mud next. She stayed like that for a while, listening to the heavy pounding on her body, feeling her cat rustle in the bag but not daring get out. Some exotic birds could be heard in the distance but the noise of the rain covered most of nature's soundtrack. Her long red hair was plastered on either side of her face, but she didn't try to move it, neither did she try to wipe away the mud that covered her nose and half of her neck. And don't even get her started on the front side of her clothes.

After a few minutes, the cold started setting in and slowly crept through her bones. She shivered and propped herself on her elbows. If she couldn't walk to the palace, she would crawl. Same difference and it didn't matter at this point. She wasn't thinking rationally, her mind swimming in a painful heat as if someone had put her brain in a microwave. She vaguely remembered seeing a huge amount of water at some point on her way there. But she didn't dare get close to crocodiles in her state, so she had went back into the forest. She'd rather face black panthers than alligators or anything that could be made into bags and shoes.

She managed to drag herself in the mud on some ten feet before her body shut down. The last thing she remembered besides the constant pounding of the rain on her head was a dark silhouette in front of her. It looked human but didn't approach, as if it waited for her to let down her guard. In her last moments of consciousness, she managed to put her hand in her bag to find her Widow bites but all she felt was the warm fur of Liho. She remembered the quick and hot lick on her hand before it all went black.


Steve woke up in his suite in the palace. He had simply asked for a room but T'Challa had refused to give him anything less than a full suite with included a bathroom the size of a pool, a kitchen with top modern equipment and a bedroom with a king size bed that could fit five soldiers like him. But just like with Tony when he still had a floor at the tower, Steve didn't argue. He could see it was T'Challa's pleasure to treat his guest with the best he had to offer and Steve was actually glad to be able to relax for a while.

Since he was back from the ice, he had been on missions for SHIELD with strike team Delta, then Project Insight had sent everything to hell and his search for Bucky had taken months. Oh, and don't forget the Avengers' business like the battle of New York that almost ended up in a catastrophe and Sokovia that could have fallen to Ultron's metal hands. Then Lagos had happened and the bombing of the United Nations and, well, shit happened.

So for once, Steve was glad to be back to the sidelines, to simply hide for a while, to stay away from the rest of the world. He deserved a little peace, especially since the last months had been emotionally draining, first with Peggy's death, then Bucky's decision to go cryo. Steve needed a break and apparently so did Nat. He was happy she was coming, he hadn't seen her in three whole months and although he knew she could take care of herself, he had had his fair share of moments when he had seen her hurt. He had stopped counting how many GSW she had received and how many bones she had broken or how many pints of blood she had lost since the very first day she had entered the Black Widow program. He didn't think even she knew exactly. He knew she kept track and it was an inside joke between them, with their whole conversation about dating and shared life experience.

To make it simply, he was worried and so when T'Challa himself (usually he sent someone else because he had to resume his duties as king) walked into his suite, Steve immediately jumped on his feet from the leather couch in the living room.

"Black Widow was spotted in the woods of solitude a few minutes ago, a couple of miles from here." Steve appreciated the fact that T'Challa went straight to the point. He was about to grab his shield and helmet but remembered he wasn't Captain America anymore. He had been thinking about his role among the Avengers, if there was anything left of them, and he had a couple of ideas that he wanted to run by his friends, but he had to meet them first. His attention went back to T'Challa and he followed him outside.

They climbed into a jeep and headed for the forest. One of T'Challa's men was driving like he knew exactly where to go. Steve respected the Wakandians more and more, for the fact that they were able to not get lost on their own land but also for the fact that they formed their own nation that was in harmony with nature. It was something rare nowadays and Steve liked to spend some time every day watching his friends' people just going on about their day.

Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the place where Natasha was spotted. Another Wakandian, this one dressed like a warrior with traditional weapons as deadly as the latest Stark technology, stood over a silhouette lying in the mud. His body was arched above the lady in a way to prevent the rain from falling directly on her head. T'Challa immediately walked out of the jeep and ignored the rain that wet his rich royal clothes. He exchanged a few words with the man while Steve knelt next to Natasha. He called her name and shook her shoulder lightly but she was passed out cold. He didn't like the way her skin seemed pale but it was probably due to the low light. T'Challa knelt next to him, on the other side. He pressed his dark hand on Natasha's forehead and hissed.

"Her life's in danger. Her body is suffering. We have to get her back to the palace, quickly. Our healers will be waiting our arrival and will take care of her as soon as we get there."

Steve nodded and cradled Natasha's body in his arms, ignoring the mud or how ridiculous she looked with her front completely dirty as if she just walked out of a mud fight. His heart sank when he realized with how much ease he could lift her. He had held her or at least felt her weight on him countless of times before. One time when they were on the run from HYDRA after the bombing of Fort Leigh and all the other times during training when she practiced her swinging movements on him. So he could compare and he could tell she had lost too much weight for his liking. He couldn't tell by just looking at her features because mud covered most of them.

He walked in the jeep and laid her across the backseats that no one else took, T'Challa sitting up front with his driver. Cradling her head in the crook of his elbow, he proceeded to wipe a little bit of the mud covering her nose. Two fingers lingered on her neck and he felt a weak pulse. When he wanted to place a wet clunk of hair behind her ear, he accidentally brushed her forehead and felt it burning under his palm. She had a high fever and was completely soaked: T'Challa was right, they had to move now.

The man that found Natasha handed Steve her back before shutting the door of the jeep close. The car started again and Steve could tell the driver was driving faster than before. Suddenly, a loud meow erupted inside the car, making everyone jump. A dark and furry head appeared from the bag and walked out of it. The cat spread its limbs just like it did after a long nap and shook slightly: somehow it had gotten wet even inside the bag.

"Hey Liho," Steve said gently and reached for the cat. It climbed on the seat next to him but didn't rub itself against Natasha like it usually did. It purred against Steve's free hand though. "It's Natasha's cat," Steve explained to T'Challa when he caught his interrogative stare. The king of Wakanda smiled after looking at the black cat and its big green bright eyes.

"A fit animal for a brave warrior like Black Widow. Just like one of our small panthers." Steve smiled and didn't take his eyes from Natasha's face during the rest of the way. She seemed so peaceful and yet there was a slight frown every now and then, followed by a tight gasp that made Steve think she was regaining consciousness. But she stayed like that until they arrived at the palace.

They had a hospital like a mile away but T'Challa thought it would be best to have Natasha stay at the palace to keep an eye on her. He also knew she'd need calm and had already told the doctors to move all necessary medical equipment in the room he had had prepared for her (which was across the hall from Steve's own suite). Steve gently transported her all the way from the jeep to her suite, Liho standing on his broad shoulder. He didn't let go of her until he laid her on her bed which was as big as his. Somehow, it seemed even bigger because Natasha looked so small.

Three doctors were already waiting and they ran a quick diagnosis. Steve trusted them so he didn't say anything and once Natasha was out of his arms, he stepped aside, letting the three women do their work. Despite their traditional ways, Wakandians were at the top of technology and had what they needed. After all, they did possess equipment for Bucky's cryo, so they should have everything to patch Natasha up.

When the doctors proceeded to take the former assassin's clothes off, Steve stepped out of the room with T'Challa. He retrieved her bag in the living room and decided to wait there until the doctors were done. T'Challa promised to send something to eat for them both, even though he didn't know when Natasha would wake up, then he left the soldier alone. Liho was still steadily set on his shoulder and Steve let her be there as long as she didn't hurt him with her claws. He did take a towel to dry the cat though. He then took out the stuff that was in Natasha's bag, not because he was nosy but because he assumed it was all soaked. He spread her clothes in the suite to dry and aligned the other things on the table in the living room. He even took care of her weapons so they would be functional when she woke up. She wouldn't need them here, but Steve just knew the fuss she was able to make about her weapons and how much she took care of them. He hadn't figured out if it was out of habit or because she liked to do that.

When dinner came, one plate was set aside for Natasha on the table next to her stuff. Steve let Liho have some of the meat; he knew Natasha always gave her cat a little bit of fresh meat every day. As always, the plate was huge but for Steve's metabolism that burned everything four times quicker, it was perfect. The doctors were done patching Natasha up when he finished his meal and allowed him to see her. One of the women spoke English and told him about Natasha's injuries, what to do if it got worse and when to call the doctors. Steve nodded and entered the room with Liho skipping between his feet to get there first. The cat jumped on the bed and nestled against Natasha's right side, like it always did when the spy was wounded.

Steve realized that not only did the doctors patch the wounds; they also washed Natasha and dressed her in a grey and ample gown, a little bit like the hospital kind but not entirely. Her red hair had been somehow dried but remained a little bit damp. The mud from her face and neck was gone and in the warm light of the lamp next to the bed, Steve could finally take her all in. Her skin was too pale for his liking and covered in a thin layer of sweat. A wet cloth was pressed on her forehead and Steve saw a bucket of water at the foot of the bed. He immediately decided he would change the cloth every now and then himself. A thermometer could be found on her night stand. The doctors had told him her temperature was high but that it was likely to go up during the night.

He couldn't see her legs but the doctors had told him she had a bullet hole in her left thigh and that her right ankle was somewhere between twisted, sprained and broken. Because she had walked on it when she shouldn't, they couldn't access exactly the damage apart from the fact that it was bad. She didn't seem otherwise externally hurt but his heart sank in his chest when he looked at her general small frame. It wasn't only her face; he could see that her entire body suffered from her weight loss. But her apparent cheekbones gave it away the most. Natasha had always been thin because of all the hard work she did. Her body didn't have an ounce of fat but her muscles were present and she had every curve where it should be. But she had never been that thin, almost sickly underweight. He promised himself to ask her to measure her weight as soon as she'll be able to stand up. He didn't need to know how much she weighted, but he needed her to acknowledge that it wasn't healthy.

As he looked down at her face that frowned from time to time because of the fever raging through her system, he wondered how much she had told him on the phone. He had been on the run, sure, but never as long as she had been and never so harshly. Her situation was nothing compared to his. He had barely been doing that for months; she had been doing that for dozens of years. As Liho's almost inaudible purring rose in the air, Steve fell asleep in the chair he dragged next to her bed and only woke up every few hours to change the cloth on her forehead. She didn't wake up until sunrise.