"I had this dream, the kind that seems normal at the time... I was an Avenger. That I was anything more than the assassin they made me."

Natasha sat out on the tall building of god knows were now. No matter where she went he was always a step ahead somehow. She didn't hate him for it, she just hated his insecurity... and his I.Q. She had taken time off and left the New Avengers base to look for Banner.

"I think you're too being hard on yourself," he told her sincerely. Natasha wasn't always good with sincerity, but now things were different.

"And here I was hoping that was your job," she joked with a light, airy laugh as she moved closer to him, starring up into his soft, dark brown orbs.

Natasha sighed as she watched the sun get lower and lower, parts of it gone beneath other rooftops. It had been too long, far too long since she's seen him. Heard from him. She knew he wasn't dead, a ship wreck surely wouldn't kill him. Months later, maybe even longer, her search did continue.

"What are you doing?" He asked almost sadly, legitimately confused. Maybe even guilty.

"I'm running with it; with you," she whispered softly "running's the plan.. as far as you want."

Natasha wondered vaguely if he even considered staying. Well, probably not and she didn't fully blame his reasoning for leaving. She just didn't understand why he couldn't leave with her.

"Are you out of your mind?" He questioned, looking at the spy as if she had just suggested something so vile or ridiculous. Like she was crazy. Crazy for falling for him. He walked away from her, exasperated, hands over his face.

Natasha pulled her jacket a little tighter as the gentle breeze started to grow to a larger gust. She didn't even know the point of sitting out here anymore.

"I need you to understand that, um-"

"Natasha," he broke her off, turning around to face her once again, "where can I go? Where in the world am I not a threat?"

"You're not a threat to me," Natasha persists.

Natasha watches as the smaller stars take the place of the sun. Their beautiful out here. Brighter. Much more so than in New York. Natasha stands up, her legs numb from being folded for so long. The streets of Togo, Africa now mostly quiet and mute.

"Are you sure?" He shoots back in barely a moment's time since Natasha had stopped speaking. "Even if I didn't just-.. There's no future with me. I can't ever," He said looking around the guest/child's room of the Barton farm house, "I can't have this. Kids. Do the math I psychically can't."

Natasha shook her head, trying to will away the memories. Why couldn't he just see that none of that mattered to her then? Or now? Just him.

"Neither can I," she answered sadly.

And it was the honest truth. Natasha looked down. She knew better than to let tears fall. It was something she learned years ago and-.. Damn it all. She was alone. Nobody was around. So what if she got emotional for once in her life? And so a silvery tear shattered upon the concrete roof. "Bruce," she says lightly into the wind, "what are you doing?"

And from the other edge of that same rooftop, being behind the iron casing surrounding the stairwell down to the rest of the apartment's in the building stood a man, listening to it all. "...I'm running with it," he whispers out loud and soon the sound fades into nothing.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this short, sad, Brutasha story. If you want me to expand upon it leave a comment or message me.