.

The Best We Can Do Is To Start Over

.

The Arlington National Cemetery wasn't too crowded that day. Even so, the Captain couldn't run – he didn't want to attract too much attention or risk being recognized. He walked a little faster than usual and, in no time, he found the spy's car in the parking lot.

Steve's mind was in a whirlwind.

Sam's question was pounding in his heart, "What makes you happy?"

And the answer he couldn't say out loud. Natasha. She makes me feel alive.

She was… special. Yes, too special. The most beautiful woman in the world who, beyond a doubt, knew how to push his buttons, making him lose control… A walking enigma that had make him feel like a young private again. Something that hadn't happened before.

Chronologically 95 years old, he had lived through 29 – he wasn't inexperienced or naive. He was definitely not dead. Still, there were many lines he never dared to cross, many rules he couldn't bring himself to break… until Natasha.

Thinking about his life over the past years, and in this present era, the soldier couldn't lie to himself – the Russian spy had been the light in it. With her dry humor and unpredictability she was everything he wasn't and yet, everything he deeply desired. She had awakened the dormant part of him in a way that no one had done before, giving him hope of finding happiness.

It was foolish to think that he needed someone else's help to admit his feelings for her. The Falcon had been absolutely right – the Captain wouldn't forgive himself if he didn't try at least to talk to her… he needed to know for sure. Still, the intrepid superhero was terrified. It was easier to face an army from outer space than that petite redhead.

He stood by her car, waiting… hoping… But once she didn't appear, he got worried. Walking back, he surveyed the area looking for her bright red hair and was relieved when he spotted her, just behind a tree not too far away. Drawing close, he slowed down, uncertain.

What am I doing? She's gonna kick my ass so fast…

However, at that moment, he became alarmed when he realized that she was… distressed. As had happened many times before, Natasha had turned his world upside down – the man-with-a-plan was at a loss as to what to do. But when she started to move, a little unsteadily, his protective instincts took charge.

Quickly he was by her side, gently stopping her from falling. "Nat, are you okay?"

Steve's voice was firm and yet, worried – quite comforting like his strong grip on her arm. Natasha couldn't look at him, not like this, but it was as if he knew it. Pulling her close to him, he treated her with the same attention he had when the spy had had a gunshot wound to her shoulder – after Maria Hill had rescued them.

The redhead didn't struggle. Instead, she laid her head on his toned warm chest, resting in the comfort of his arms, trying to ease her breathing. It was too tempting to be this relaxed, but also extremely dangerous. After a short while, she straightened up, pulling away from him.

Noticing her uneasiness, he said reassuringly, "When I woke up, my whole world was gone. This time will be easier. We will find our place. We're partners after all, right?" Tentatively, he gave her a soft smile, but she couldn't bring herself to reply. "You're not alone, Nat. I know how you feel," he added kindly.

When she finally looked back at him, her green eyes were blank. Like the Russian winter, she had closed herself in an implacable coldness. Her voice was nothing but a murmur, "You don't know me, Rogers. Not everything was in my file." Turning away, she looked at the graves, speaking bluntly, "There are probably people here… that I killed."

The harshness in her words, however, didn't match the fragility in her posture. It was the same defensive mechanism she had used in the hospital – he recognized it, remembering how much he had wanted to hold her at that painful moment. Decided he wouldn't let her push him away, not this time, he stood behind her, close enough for them to feel the heat radiating from each other's bodies.

Then, he admitted melancholically, "I met a lot of soldiers that are buried here. Too many died under my command."

"It's not the same as killing them." Natasha's voice was emotionless, under control, but she couldn't fool the super-soldier's enhanced senses – underneath her seemly impenetrable sheath of ice, her blood was boiling and her heart was pounding.

"No, it's not. But if we go to any military cemetery in Germany, it will be." The somber pain in his voice was an absolute contrast to the warmth of his body. He placed his hand softly on her arm pulling her to him, whispering, "We are not so different."

Surprised, Natasha looked at Steve. This was a side of the Captain that she hadn't thought about before – the hero for some, but the foe for others. And there he was, exposing himself to her, in an unexpected show of trust – something the Black Widow wasn't used to receiving.

Gently, he took her hand, leading her to the parking area, "Let's get out of here."

Standing by his motorcycle, he asked, "Should we get something to eat?"

It was more a statement than an invitation, but somehow she couldn't say no.

"My car…"

"Don't worry, we'll pick it up later," he said with an endearing smile.

It was a balmy spring afternoon, just perfect for a motorcycle ride. Too many emotions were crowding her heart, but she had to control her hands, while having her arms wrapped around his chiseled torso. He was an excellent driver, ever the gentleman, so there were no brusque movements that could force her to grab him more firmly… unfortunately.

He took her to a cozy cafe, not so far from there. After shaking hands with a man behind the counter, Steve led Natasha through a stairway, up to a private balcony, overlooking a park. There was a large two-seater with a small coffee table, surrounded by flowers and plants, in a very intimate atmosphere.

Sheepishly, he smiled, "I come here when I visit Arlington. The owner's grandfather fought with me."

Captain America was used to finding WWII veterans and their families everywhere. It had never ceased to amuse Natasha how Steve would always be attentive and kind towards them all. The perfect hero carried himself as if he had been born to public office. Sitting by her side, however, he looked almost uneasy, and the super spy didn't have a clue as to why.

"No one will bother us here," he explained, and offered her the menu, "What are you up for?"

It was past noon and neither of them had eaten lunch yet, so she ordered a grilled salmon salad, and he picked a roast beef sandwich.

Reclining on the comfortable couch, with her feet propped on a bench, she found herself relaxed, admiring how young he looked as he remembered his childhood friend. Between a few beers and lots of food, he told her a bunch of funny war stories, and ended up telling her about the pranks he and Bucky used to play on each other. After the last few chaotic days, this was a great change of mood. Suddenly, it began to bother her how much she enjoyed his company.

Falling back to her alert status, she tried to read him. "So, do you need my help to find the… Barnes?"

Steve stopped, uncomfortable with the insinuation, "No. Well, yes, I do. But that's not… He tried to kill you twice, I wouldn't ask you…"

"What do you want, Rogers?"

You.

A question so simple that made him admit a truth hidden deep in his heart. Quickly, he averted his eyes, afraid that she could read the revealing answer stamped on his face.

But once she had entered into her interrogatory mood, there was no coming back. "Why are we here?"

Honesty, always his best choice. "I'm worried about you."

"I'm fine."

Genuinely concerned, he insisted, "Where are you going to stay? Is it safe?"

"You have got to be kidding me."

"With your past exposed, aren't you afraid that enemies would come after you?"

"If you read my file carefully, you should have seen that they will run from me." In her full Black Widow voice, she warned, "And so should you."

He sighed disappointed, "Nat, I just want to help you."

Narrowing her eyes, she replied sharply, "I don't need anything from you, Rogers."

The direct rejection hit him hard, and there was one explanation he couldn't avoid, not anymore. "I know." He straightened up, and started to get ready to leave. "I got it, okay? I know I'm not him. I left him a message but he didn't call me back."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

He tried to justify himself, "Barton. I called him for you."

She wasn't expecting his defeated reaction, much less this answer, and asked puzzled, "Why?"

Her confusion caught him off guard, and he replied ashamed, "You two are… He's your…"

"Why are you talking about Hawkeye?"

"Because you wear his necklace, the arrow." He looked away, feeling like the silliest man on Earth.

"What?" She put her hand on her neck, "How do you know? Why do you care?"

Because I notice everything about you. He searched for an escape, but there was none. "I saw it," he replied disconcertedly.

Sizing him up as if reading an open book, she gave him the same look and answer from the hospital, "You're still a terrible liar."

He drew a sharp breath, but couldn't bring himself to reply.

"Clint gave it to me, a long time ago. What does it have to do with anything?"

"It's a meaningful gift, isn't it?" There was an extra coldness in his voice.

Amused, she said, "He saved my life. We're friends."

The tension in his body was almost as if he was getting ready to battle, and he turned to her, complaining almost as if they were in the midst of a lover's spat, "A woman doesn't wear a man's symbol unless…"

Immediately, she cut him off, "I wear anything I want, as long as it matches with my outfit…"

He was very uncomfortable, and the signs were too clear for Natasha to ignore – although the truth they unveiled was everything she needed to avoid. Steve's feelings for her had grown to the point that he was feeling jealousy over her. Suddenly, his always respectful distance made all the sense in the world. Without realizing, she smiled mischievously, "So, you thought I was with Clint?"

"I'm sorry, I made a wrong assumption." He grabbed his beer and drank it.

She burst into laughter, "That's why I got a message from him, asking if I was dying or drunk. He hates to be interrupted during a mission."

Once again, the spy's mockery drove the soldier crazy. Totally past hiding, he sounded nothing but accusatory, "But he obviously must have some kind of interest, otherwise he wouldn't have given it to you." There it was, the same tone and posture he'd had at the hospital, as if he owned her.

Although she couldn't admit it to herself yet, she was concerned with Steve's feelings and wanted him to understand it all, "It's a Native American token. Two parallel arrows in opposite directions mean war. Crossed mean friendship. He offered me the chance to be friend or enemy." Shaking her head in disbelief, she explained, "Anyway, it also means protection, and direction. He wants me to find my safe path, like he did." Processing her words, Steve remained silent, so she gave him the final piece of information, "Do you know Bobbi Morse, Agent 19? They're married."

He stared at her, absolutely shocked, "Married? I didn't know… I thought…"

"Only a few people know it. It's a dangerous business we work in. It's better to keep our private lives, private," she finished, raising an eyebrow.

Her answer caused him all sorts of mixed feelings. It was more than a relief that he wasn't betraying his friend and team-member, even if only in thought. Thinking back, it became clear for the soldier that the archer's behavior towards the spy had always been that of a protector, not a lover. It also meant that Steve had read all the signs wrongly. What else am I missing? Not sure about what he wanted to hear, he asked, "Are you secretly involved too? Anyone special?"

She couldn't help but chuckle, "Me? No way."

Sitting side by side, they finished their drinks, thinking about everything that they had just shared, and its powerful meaning.

After an awkward silence, she questioned, almost kindly, "But why are you suddenly interested in my personal life?"

"Why are you always trying to set me up with someone?" His reply was quite harsh, but his voice was back to his normal gentle tone.

Tilting her head, she gave up, "Fair enough."

He shrugged his shoulders, "That's not an answer."

"Neither was yours."

A few more moments passed before he took a deep breath and started, "I was just thinking… I wonder… I understand, I'm your charity-friend, you want to fix me."

Frowning, she replied, "No, I don't… I don't want to fix you."

"Well, that kind of sounded like that was what you were doing." He gave her a half smile.

Remembering their talk in that stolen car, she smirked, "What do you want, Steve?"

That was it. There was no turning back, he couldn't hide or flee anymore. He didn't want to. Looking straight at her, he said sincerely, "I want to ask you out."

The one answer Natasha could've never anticipated, yet, now that she heard it, she realized it was the one she had so secretly desired. She gasped, "What?"

He was fully exposed, "I should've asked a long time ago. Do you want to go out with me?"

Like in the car, she wasn't detached but somewhat defeated, "Wrong business again."

Watching her closely, he pushed, "Okay, I understand you're not interested…"

Her distant words didn't match the plea in her stunning eyes. "You don't want to be around me, Steve."

For a moment he paused, thinking about everything that had happened between them, what she had done before, and what she was saying now. Finally, realization hit him – she wasn't rejecting him but herself. His posture changed completely, and he leaned a little, putting his arm on the couch, behind her. Gazing at her deeply, he smiled confidently, "You don't know what I want, Natasha."

His close presence was too intoxicating and she looked down, speechless.

Peggy's wise words came to his mind, 'The world has changed and none of us can go back. All we can do is our best, and sometimes the best we can do is to start over.' Inspired, he said, "Do you remember the woman in that photo you asked about? Her name is Margaret Carter and she helped Howard Stark to create S.H.I.E.L.D. She's the only friend I have left from that time, but now she's 94."

"I'm sorry, Steve. Was she your girlfriend?"

"No… no. That's the thing, we didn't have a chance. We only shared one kiss."

It was Natasha's turn to be flooded with mixed emotions. Her lonely green eyes locked into his hopeful blue ones. Opening his heart, Steve took her hand, "I can't let that story repeat, not with you, Nat."

Her lips parted in an open invitation, but she still tried to protect herself, replying, "You don't want me."

This time, however, he wasn't feeling rejected. Now, he understood her distance. His smile was contagious and his eyes shone with excitement, "Since that first day on the Helicarrier, I've never wanted anyone like I want you." The depth of his words and the emotion that they conveyed exposed a breach in her ice armor, and he dove in, "I want more than one kiss, Nat."

The always snarky spy was at a loss of words, "But… you didn't… kiss me back…"

Confused, he frowned. "I did. And you said it was bad."

"I mean… you didn't want to kiss… me."

"Because it wasn't for real," he shook his head no, "It was a scam." There was a mix of hope and fear in his voice as he asked, "You didn't feel anything… did you?"

Natasha was stunned. He was truly the most honest and real man in the entire universe. His answer was so simply obvious that it hit her like a bullet, shattering her last remaining walls. Her vulnerability was the most breathtaking thing ever…

Remembering Sam's words, Steve confessed shyly, "I'm scared too… But if you trust me, I'm willing to try." Before she could think or even react, his hand slid firmly around her back, drawing her to him. Gently, he raised her chin, before saying charmingly, "And I always wanted to kiss you, Nat."

There were countless ways for her to escape, if only her body hadn't betrayed her so quickly, melting entirely in his strong arms. All her internal alarms were screaming. He was too handsome, too close… She was fighting to keep her brain functioning… until… leaning a little closer, he kissed her forehead, softly, then her left temple. Caressing her with his lips, he made her thoughts and fears disappear. Willingly, she let herself be carried away by the tenderness of his lips traveling to her cheek, and the warmness of his breath upon her ear.

Natasha's chest was heaving, her breathing was becoming even more erratic, as he whispered seductively, "But I wanted it to be for real."

His deep blue eyes searched her beautiful green ones, asking permission.

The ice fortress crumbled altogether – she had no words, no more lies to tell, not the slightest desire to hide or flee. To top it all off, there was an unknown feeling… that she could only relate to the acceptance of the inevitability of defeat, except that it felt more like the epiphany of victory. Despite being completely exposed, defenseless, for the first time in her whole life, Natasha Romanoff was feeling entirely safe by being at the mercy of Steve Rogers.

Slowly, she blinked in consent, and then… he kissed her.

His lips were gentle, but firm, perfectly demanding and she responded avidly. Wrapping her arms around him, she savored the way his fingers danced through her silky hair, caressing her face. Grabbing the nape of her neck, he pulled her close and she tilted her head, allowing him to deepen the kiss. Wanting to melt into him, she clung to his muscled body, relishing in the feeling of his arms possessively all around her.

There was nothing uncomfortable in his touch or his kiss – no hesitation this time. Steve claimed her mouth with passion, stealing her breath and weakening her bones.

Their lungs were crying for air when they broke the kiss. Slightly panting, he rubbed his thumb on her lower lip, saying sheepishly, "I wanted it to be special… like you."

She brightened, and he'd never seen her so happy. Smiling, he teased, "So… do I still need practice?"

He looked so cocky and irresistibly charming at the same time that she would have to kick his ass. Except that she didn't want to, not now. "No…" she smiled, drawing him to her, "But I do."

Natasha's heart was alive.

The cold Winter had passed. It was time for Spring.

.

Author's note: About the dynamic between Steve & Natasha at Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Scarlett Johansson said to herocomplex latimes: "The chemistry is there, which is important. Just because they're not romantically involved doesn't mean that they're not still attracted to each other as people. I like that the door is open a little bit."

Well, I couldn't resist it, I had to open that door completely! I hope you had enjoyed reading as much as I did writing! If you like them as I do, I invite you to check my Chris Crush series (four stories)!

Writing is my therapy, my way to unwind from the stress of the real life. But the best thing of writing here is to make new friends. You are all amazing! To write this story, I had the invaluable help of my fellow Romanogers friend & beta, Lovedrr. (He is an amazing writer, check his stories!)

Many thanks to all readers. I appreciate every single review, PM, favorite and follow. I try to thank you all, through PMs, when it's available. Feel free to comment in English, Portuguese or Spanish!

I hope I made you smile… :)

xxoo Mari

*** Writing is a labor of love. Please, support our young writers, leave a review! ***