The last thing Natasha expected was a knock on the door.
She had decided to run as far and as fast as she could to what could be considered the middle of nowhere. She had driven through the night in a car that had been reserved by SHEILD for Steve (he'd never used it, and she hoped he wouldn't notice it was gone). She pulled off the toll road in northern Ohio and found a halfway decent hotel near the exit. She checked in with the name "Natalie Rushman" – it didn't look like anyone recognized her, but better safe than sorry.
Natasha went through the motions of the bath she had promised herself, but it didn't relax her. She felt trapped in her own skin. She had to get out after a few minutes because the thought of sitting in her own dirt – literally and figuratively – began to seem disgusting.
After she dried off and got dressed, she sat on the bed, brushing her short red hair with her fingers. The repetitiveness of the action helped her focus. Her mind raced so quickly that she couldn't make sense of her thoughts, so she ignored them. Her legs were folded, giving her stability. She felt like she was going to fall over. She realized with a slight start that she hadn't eaten anything in two days. In fact, the last thing she'd had in her mouth was that piece of gum she got when Steve was asking her about –
No. No, no, no. She couldn't think of Steve, and she definitely couldn't think of the Winter Soldier. Natasha felt her face settle back into its hardened mask, and went back to brushing her hair.
Food. She needed food. A thought broke through her mental barriers: 'You don't have that much money.' It was true. She had a few hundred dollars tucked in her pocket, but really she had only come with the casual clothes she had worn when she and Steve had been undercover at the mall –
Natasha frowned, slightly. She needed to stop. Reliving the past few days wouldn't get her anywhere. She would get something from the hotel vending machine. It wasn't the best idea, but it would do in a pinch. She needed to get her blood sugar up anyways; she had been running on adrenaline for far too long. She could've have eaten in between press conferences, but she'd felt too sick to her stomach to do so.
A frantic knock shattered the stillness.
Natasha jerked her head toward the door. She didn't dare get up. The comforter on the bed was shiny; it made crinkling sounds when she moved. If it was Hydra and she tried to get up…
"Nat!" A rough shout that she recognized instantly.
'How?' she wondered. In hindsight, she shouldn't have driven his car.
"Come on, open the door, Natasha!" Steve yelled through the door. She wanted to scream at him that it wasn't her name just for the sake of it, but instead stayed deathly still. He pounded on the door again; she wondered how long he could keep doing that before it simply popped off its hinges.
The hall was silent again. Natasha hoped that he had left. She didn't want to face him. Then a thud echoed slightly through the room. "Nat. I know you're in there," Steve said. He sounded muffled, like his face was against the door. "Please let me in."
After a minute of mental debate, she got up off the bed – the comforter shuffled in protest – and tiptoed to the door. As if by some miracle, he must not have heard her; he kept talking. "And I'm not just saying into the room." Natasha paused, tilted her head. "You could have told me all this stuff, Nat. You…" She started creeping to the door again. "I mean, Nat. This is…this is nothing." She wanted to laugh, as absurd as it sounded. Nothing? It was her life he was talking about. A life where she had been brainwashed into doing whatever the Red Room told her. A life where she had been in love with – no, no, no. She had made it to the door then, and kept listening to Steve.
"I mean, geez. I'm not going to hold this over you."
Natasha heart pounded. Her palms were sweaty, but she knew even though he couldn't see her, the only expression on her face was one of blankness. Her mind screamed and two words escaped her lips before she could rein them in.
"Why not?" she whispered.
She heard Steve give a soft sigh of relief on the other side of the door. Something solid – his head, she realized belatedly – tapped against the door as if he was resting his forehead against it. He forced a single, quiet laugh, and muttered almost to himself, "I thought maybe you were dead or something."
She chose not to tell him that the thought hadn't been far from her mind. The whole drive over she had felt dead, felt frozen.
Natasha sighed and wished he had just stayed away like a sane person. She leaned against the door, cheek sliding against it. The wood cooled her face as she waited for Steve to speak again. She wasn't about to.
After a minute, he answered, "Did you think I was going to?"
Natasha hesitated. The answer was obvious. 'Yes, I thought you were going to. I still think you should.'
"You clearly did," he mumbled. She heard him shuffle around, then say "Let me in. Please." He used his no-nonsense 'Captain America' voice. Logically, she knew that if it was that important to him, he would either break down the door, or wait out there until she had to leave. The way her body felt, she knew she couldn't last much longer without food.
Natasha slowly opened the door, but didn't meet his eyes even when it had opened wide enough for him to get in.
"Nat," Steve breathed slowly. She winced and turned her face away, but didn't realize the expression had never showed on her face until he sucked in an offended huff. In the corner of her eye, she saw him relax. She didn't move out of the way – maybe he would still leave.
"Just go," Natasha croaked out.
A pause, then his calloused fingers were sliding along her chin and forcing her to look at him. Her eyes drowned in his bright blue ones as he shook his head. "No, Nat." It was all he said, but the two words had her biting her lower lip (not solely in her head, either) and blinking stinging tears from her eyes.
She pulled her chin away and shuffled back into the room and resuming her position on the bed, legs hanging off the side, head bowed. She held out one last hope that Steve would leave her alone, let her push away the memories herself. Instead she felt his weight sink onto the bed beside her. He didn't say anything; just sat there like he was waiting for something.
"You read it?" Natasha finally asked, though the answer was obvious.
Steve sighed. "Not on purpose," he answered. "If I would have known, I wouldn't have."
"Why?" It came out more broken than she thought it would – she was compromised, but she didn't want him to see that.
He forced an airy laugh. "You're my friend, Nat. If you wanted to keep something private, you should have said so." She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. He was watching her, his gaze honest. She sighed slightly. Then he said, "Though I kind of wish you would have just told me who…who Bucky – the Winter Soldier – was to you. But I understand why you didn't."
She blinked twice – understanding wasn't what she deserved after everything she had done, in the Red Room and out of it. "Are you going to look for him?"
He looked away from her, staring out the window instead. The sky was cloudy, making the room seem dark and cold. "Yeah, I'm going to try," he finally answered.
"You should ask Stark for help," she supplied. "He has resources."
She met his eyes when he looked at her again. He was frowning slightly as he responded, "You're not coming." It was a statement, though one that demanded an explanation.
Natasha thought for a few minutes before responding. "I'm going to go off grid for a while. I think…" she hesitated. "I think me sticking around might not be a good idea."
"So you're running," Steve replied. She couldn't tell by his voice if he was disappointed or simply summing it up.
She twisted her fingers together in her lap, mostly so she wouldn't have to look at him. "Yeah. It's best. For…everyone."
She felt his fingers under her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "For you," he corrected her. "Best for you." He dropped her chin, but for some reason she couldn't look away. He searched her eyes carefully; what he was looking for she didn't know. He nodded slowly. "Maybe you're right." He glanced out the window and back to her uncertainly. "Just don't do anything…you know…"
His voice trailed off and she realized that he was worried about her for the second time that evening. It made her own chest ache – she didn't deserve to be worried about. "It's just for a while," she reassured him.
"I know," he replied with one of his small smiles. "Just remember, Nat…you're not that person anymore."
She knew what he meant: She wasn't the girl from the Red Room. She wasn't weak enough to be controlled. She was not telling the wrong peoples' lies.
Natasha was strong. And she had the strength to push away her emotions and nod at Steve, accepting his words. After he left, she watched the sun go down through the window. As it did, she felt her own self change just like the darkening sky. She was ready.
Ready to put on her poker face and take whatever was thrown at her.