So Fury and Hill had to go on a secret mission, disappearing from the face of the Earth for months, just before the shit hit the fan. Murphy's law, right? Only Murphy never had Tony Stark and Steve Rogers as variables.

Natasha left fourteen voice-messages in Maria's voicemail before giving up.

Fourteen.

1: "Hey, so, Peggy Carter died today… I know you admired her and, well… I'm worried about Steve. I'm gonna go see him in London before Vienna. I really don't want him to be alone… yeah, so, I hope you get this and please call me when you can. Say hi to Nick for me and tell him that my threat still stands. He'll know what I'm talking about. Bye."

2: "Masha, something happened. I had a close one today. I'm alright but… this is bad, it's really, really bad. The Wakandan king is dead, and I'm pretty sure Steve is going to start a war to protect Barnes. Shit, this is so, so bad. Tell Nick you guys should really come back ASAP. I'm doing what I can to keep the team together but I can't do what you guys do, babysitting was never my forte… anyway. Be safe, ok? Call me when you can. Bye."

3: "Shit, you never pick up. Where the hell are you, Masha? It's been a month in the blind, I – I need you."

4: "I'm scared, Maria. Just call me back. Please."

5: "You said this could happen. That you guys could go silent for months. I thought I could do this. I told you I could but – everything went to hell in Germany. The Avengers are no more. Tony, Steve… it was like ripping my body in two, they were both right, they were both assholes. I know that if you and Nick had been here, things would have played out differently. The thing is I have to go into exile, I'm a criminal now. Or should I say, I'm a criminal again? Shit, it's all so absurd. Why am I even leaving these messages? I swear, Masha, if you are dead I – well, I'm gonna be pissed."

6: "So now I live on the run with Steve and Sam. Clint accepted a deal and he's at home detention. And with these two… it's like we're living in the lamest road movie you could ever imagine. Sam keeps saying we're like the dysfunctional family from Little Miss Sunshine, but I really hope he doesn't get any ideas about painting the Quinjet yellow… Fuck, Mar… where the hell are you?"

7: "Wanda and Vis bolted. They're together. We all knew. We're helping them. Shit, this is useless…"

8: "Я хочу, чтобы ты был здесь и сейчас со мной" (I wish you were here with me right now.)

9: "If you come back at all, don't bother to find me. I hate you. You should've never left."

10: (Silence. Heavy breathing. The line dies.)

11: "I just called to hear your voice and then I realized you don't even have a voice message in this thing. я глупая женщина (I'm a stupid woman.)"

12: "How could I allow you to make me so weak?"

13: "This one's for Fury. Nick, you asshole, if you have broken your promise, be sure that I will keep mine."

14: (Silence. Heavy breathing. A muffled sob. The line dies.)

2017

Sapienza Università di Roma

Rome, Italy

10 months after the aftermath of the Sokovia Accords

"Listen, guys, I don't wanna sound anxious or anything, but I'm sure we're being watched. If you don't get your cute little white asses here right now, I'm gonna leave without you."

The passenger door of the car Sam Wilson was sitting in suddenly opened, revealing Steve Rogers in a Dolce & Gabanna black and white suit. A year ago he would have never pulled off a cover like that, but Natasha was the best teacher when it came to body language and blending techniques. Steve and Sam had to learn fast considering their survival depended on it. Cover and all, Steve was still Steve, and the former Captain America, the icon now turned fugitive, had the most disapproving look on his bearded face.

"Sam, language," he scolded his friend and Sam didn't even bother protesting.

Natasha sat on the back seat with a briefcase in her hand. Her blonde platinum hair was tied in a sophisticated low bun, and the Gucci grey pant-suit she was rocking fitted her like a glove.

"You got it?" Sam asked looking at the briefcase.

"We got it," Steve nodded proudly.

"Sam, start driving before they realize we are no NATO officials and the half-million we just gave them is phonier than Steve's British accent."

"Hey!"

"We really need to work on that, Cap, I almost blew our cover trying not to laugh."

Steve was about to keep on protesting but they all three noticed two black sedans appearing on their car's mirrors, trying to flank them.

"We've got company," Steve announced.

"Told ya," Sam moved up a gear and sped up past a yellow light into the chaotic afternoon Roman traffic.

Natasha looked back to watch as their chasers pulled very big guns at them from their passenger's windows.

"Get down!"

The second Natasha screamed, the bullets began raining down on them. The vehicle's armor survived the first wave, but there was no way they were getting back the deposit now. Not that they ever intended on giving the car back…

Sam was skilled enough to navigate them through a jam even when he had to drive through the middle of the road. All kinds of obscenities were directed at him from drivers and bystanders alike, and Natasha remembered for a moment how much she loved Italian curse words. That one happy thought died in her mind as she saw their pursuers recharging their weapons.

"Sam," she shouted, "we really need to lose them!"

"What do you think I'm trying to do here, sightseeing?"

It was bad timing, really, that the Coliseum appeared in front of them when Sam turned a corner. Steve just smirked at him and Sam rolled his eyes.

With a quick maneuver that put a truck between them and the bad guys, they managed to lose one of the cars, but it was the shortest victory in history as two more appeared at an intersection.

"Goddamit, are they reproducing or something?!"

Steve could sense the anxiety in Sam's voice so he channeled his Captain America persona to lead them out of this situation even from the co-pilot's seat.

"Just focus on the road!"

And that was when Sam had to hit the breaks with all he got because traffic was completely still in front of them. There was no way out.

Their pursuers were catching up with them. They would have to face them. They would have to fight, again, unarmed, surrounded, with the odds against them…

Suddenly, a black Maserati Quattroporte appeared from a side street, skidding in front of them and coming to a halt facing the black sedans. The rubber from their tires left marks along the road as they forced the breaks just in time to prevent a collision.

"Whoa, whoa, who's that maniac?!" Sam shouted as the three of them watched the crazy scene unfold.

"We should run now, Steve…" Natasha was about to open the door and get out when Steve put his hand on her shoulder.

"Wait, wait just a moment, I think this one's on our side…"

And as if they had heard him, the Maserati's front headlights slide up to show a line of barrels that opened fire against the bad guys.

The three former Avengers just couldn't believe what they were seeing.

"Is that… fucking James Bond's car?" Sam asked incredulously.

Steve shook his head as he watched their pursuers' cars being absolutely obliterated.

"Whoever that is, I'm grateful," he said, not believing his eyes.

Sam nodded.

"We should buy him dinner, then."

The bullets coming from their mysterious savior's car stopped as they heard a familiar voice resonating through the sound system in theirs. "Him, huh, Wilson? Why should it be a him? I'm disappointed in you."

Natasha stopped breathing.

It couldn't be.

She felt her pulse going impossibly high and her eyes turned glassy.

Only Sam's and Steve's shock was as clear as hers, so it could be. She was here. She came back.

"Hill?" Steve's voice trembled with surprise, delight, anticipation… "Maria?" he repeated, "is that you?"

For an answer, they watched as former Deputy Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. Maria Hill emerged from the driver's seat with her signature Glock 9 in one hand, crouching behind the car's door to shoot at the attackers that remained firing at them.

Sam and Steve lost it.

"YES!" Steve shouted while Sam clapped like a maniac and yelled ecstatically at Natasha, "It's your girl, Widow!"

But Natasha just sat there, speechless. Maria was wearing a pair of jeans, Dr. Martens black boots, a white shirt and a black leather jacket. Her hair was longer, Natasha could tell even if it was held by a ponytail, and she saw it was fairer too, the darker locks mixed up with flashes of rich brown and even some shades of honey and gold.

Something stirred in her belly. She remembered then how her desire worked around Maria, the pull, the gravity her body felt towards Maria's body, undeniable, unstoppable.

She was here. She was alive. And Natasha forgot for a moment they were in the middle of an urban battle.

Maria looked back at them and shouted at the top of her lungs. It was like following her orders at S.H.I.E.L.D. all over again. Always their Commander.

"Move, get in the car, NOW!"

Sam, Steve and Nat ran towards the Maserati as Maria provided cover for them. Steve claimed shotgun while Sam and Nat hopped in the backseat.

Maria fired a few more rounds emptying her magazine and jumped back in the driver's seat. She didn't lose time with small talk.

"Hang tight," she didn't even let the group catch their breath.

With quick thinking and even quicker hands, Maria put pedal to the metal and skilfully drove them out of chaos. The few standing bad guys could only watch as the Maserati swung through the traffic, and even though they were driving in the opposite direction, Maria was able to not even grace any of the terrified drivers that tried to stay out of her way.

"You truly are a maniac, Hill. I've missed ya!," Sam yelled from the backseat as Maria made the car skid hard on a turn to avoid colliding with a truck.

"You haven't seen half of it, Wilson," Maria yelled back, her blue eyes still glued to the road, focused and determined to drive them to safety. Once the road before them seemed a little clearer, Maria pushed a button on the wheel and gave an order, "F.R.I.D.A.Y., set propellers at 100 percent. Get us out of here, you know where to go."

The car sound system resonated with the familiar Irish accent of Tony Stark's very own personal AI.

"Of course, Ma'am. Lift off in 3, 2, 1…"

Wilson gripped the backseat when they all felt the trembling propellers on the underside of the car.

"Are we fucking gonna fly like this is the motherfucker Delorean from Back to the Future?!", Sam asked in a reference that was lost to Steve. The captain sighed. So much to do, so little time.

Maria smiled at Sam from the rear-view mirror. That full-of-herself, over-the-top smirk that was so Deputy Director Hill.

"Buckle up, McFly."

And with that, the Maserati took off in the sky, activated its cloaking device and disappeared right in front of the eyes of thousands of innocent bystanders.

Just another Tuesday in the post-Chitauri invasion world.

About fifteen minutes of awkward silence later, only broken by Maria's cryptic "I'll explain when we get there," they landed in what appeared to be the middle of nowhere, but was in reality a little village called Casape, 48 kilometers east of Rome city. The Maserati turned aircraft remained cloaked and hidden between the trees, and Maria led the group in silence towards a house slightly away from the rest of the village. It was a typical Italian villa, not fancy at all, but it had a wrought iron gate and a little garden surrounding it. From a strategical point of view, the place was perfect because it overlooked the rest of the village, which also provided a natural advantage as it was settled in a valley between green mountains.

Natasha distracted herself in taking in her surroundings. Anything to avoid making eye contact with Maria. Not like the former Deputy Director had made any attempt to acknowledge her presence, either… Under other circumstances, she would just confront Maria and question her until they had laid all cards on the table, but Steve and Sam's presence was making this already awkward and unexpected reunion far more complicated than it should be. So Natasha just tried to calm herself, and waited, it was just a matter of time before she could speak to Maria alone and truly look at her.

Maria opened the front gate with a rusty key and let them in.

"This house belonged to my mother's family. She was born here, actually," Maria pointed out with her back to them, already opening the front door, "it's perfect to lay low for a little while."

Natasha couldn't help her surprise. Maria had never mentioned she had a property in Italy. She had never mentioned her mother, now that she thought about it. Or anything about her Italian roots. There were so many things they hadn't talk about and Natasha had the feeling that she really didn't know Maria. It was like a vertigo, the sensation and sudden realization that she had been burying their connection in layers of sex and excuses to not let her in. If Steve and Sam weren't there, she would have reached out to her, making sure this was real, making sure she was never letting go again. But she still had so many conflicted feelings, and they weren't alone, so all her fears and hopes would have to wait. As usual.

The house was gorgeous, but so very old. Most of the furniture was covered by white sheets turned almost yellow by a thick layer of dust.

"Don't worry, it looks better upstairs," Maria reassured them as she closed the front door behind her, "the rooms are clean and you should have everything you need inside if Klein followed my orders this time."

Wilson, Romanoff and Rogers just stood there, speechless, while Maria crossed her arms over her chest, waiting. It felt like they were standing once again in Maria's office, afraid to begin their report on an Avengers mission gone south. It had happened more than once.

It was Steve who made a poor attempt at breaking the ice.

"Maria…"

The ever eloquent and inspiring leader just shook his head, unable to find what to say. Hill cut him some slack and just smiled fondly at her friend.

"Captain," she said, her voice filled with respect and affection.

Steve scoffed and closed his eyes, then looked back between Natasha and Sam, but there was no backup there. Steve sighed.

"It's just – you're –"

The second attempt didn't work, either, but this time, Maria took pity on him.

"You're welcome, Cap," she smiled, and Steve knew what to do, instantly.

He hugged her. The way a soldier hugs the long-gone comrade, the friend that always had their back. Maria couldn't help but giggle a little (softly, only Steve could hear), because a hug from Captain America felt like nothing in the world could hurt you. The man just gave himself all in, as a soldier, as a hero, as a friend. Maria even allowed herself to close her eyes and sniffed him a little, because under the Dolce & Gabanna there was the smell of leather and dust. Sometimes, just being close to Steve could make her feel like she was a Marine again. Sometimes, it was quite scary. Other times, like this one, it just brought her home.

Sam followed Steve's lead and engulfed her once Steve let her go.

"Hill, you crazy motherfucker, I'm so glad to see you."

"Does the Captain allow you to use that kind of language, Wilson?"

"Just on special occasions like this one."

"Sure."

Sam's hug was brief but very affectionate, and once he let go of her, all Maria could see was Natasha, just standing there, her feet glued to the ground, her gaze on her very expensive borrowed shoes.

Maria felt her heart beating loud and was suddenly very aware of the distance between them, both the real and the metaphorical one. All she wanted was to reach out… all she wanted was to have her, once again, in every possible way. But Natasha didn't move, and Maria's heart just went faster and louder rendering her hopeless. She had to escape the panic, somehow.

"You know, I hope you three getting in trouble with Hydra cells only for me to save your asses doesn't become a regular thing, because I'm sensing a pattern here…"

Her attempt at humor to defuse the tension didn't go unnoticed by Steve and Sam. So the Cap took the hint and nodded, looking back to Natasha.

"Yeah, speaking of which…" Steve cleared his throat, then proceeded, "Nat, do you mind if Sam and I take a look at the documents? Maria, mind if we use your kitchen as the war room?"

Hill nodded and pointed at the end of the corridor, "Yeah, sure, go ahead."

Natasha handed the briefcase to Steve as he and Sam passed by her side. Maria was unable to see how Steve gestured with his eyebrows in Maria's direction. Natasha just rolled her eyes.

"May I show you your room while the boys play detective, Nat?"

Nat. Her name on her lips. Once again. She could melt right there.

But instead, she just nodded, afraid she couldn't find her voice and Maria would notice then how weak she was, how stupid. Hill made a gesture with her hand pointing the stairs behind Natasha, "After you," she said, and Nat just let herself be swept by the low notes in Maria's ever throaty voice. For the love of Thor, how she had missed that voice. And the blue eyes. And the perfect jawline. And the length of her fingers and the warmth of her chest.

As they went up the stairs, Natasha's mind couldn't help but panic for a few seconds. It was as if the past three years never happened… she was back at square one, hopelessly infatuated with Agent Hill, only now she felt like she couldn't bear it if Maria walked away from her. Before they got involved, the disdain, she could take it. She could pretend she didn't care. Now, she couldn't go back.

Focus, Natasha, you're a fugitive now. A survivor. A shadow. Not a lovesick damsel…

The sound of a door closing behind her took Natasha harshly out of her reverie. They were finally inside the room, and Maria was kind enough to pretend to roam around fixing some details so Natasha could be aware of her surroundings. The room was a piece of art, with wooden furniture of the finest craftsmanship and a four-posted king size bed, its fine quilt now showering in the sunset light entering through the balcony.

Hill moved around the room with uncharacteristic nervous body language, checking drawers three or four times and relocating the pillows.

"This was my grandparents' room. Matteo and Caterina."

And Natasha just stood there, watching her, trying to remember how to breathe.

Maria kept rambling because she didn't know what to do with herself. Talking was the only thing preventing her from falling to her knees and begging Natasha to say something.

"They arrived in Chicago in 1956. My mom was a few months old. Nonno Matteo died of lung cancer in 75, I think. And for all I know, la nonna died of a broken heart soon after that. At least they didn't get to know Ed, because mom met him when they were already gone. The fucking bastard wouldn't have passed the scrutiny of Italian parents-in-law but… well. They are all gone now. I didn't know about this place until Ed died, may he never rest in peace."

All of this was blurted out while Maria kept pacing around the room, doing everything and nothing, and when she ran out of painfully ridiculous tasks to do, there came the moment when she had no choice but to look at Natasha.

The intense green of Natasha's eyes finally met Maria's baby blues, and they both felt the electricity instantly. But there was more, so much more than went unspoken between them. For Natasha, it was fear. Loss. Anger.

"I can't decide whether I like the new hair or not –" Maria's poor attempt at casual crashed directly into Natasha's cold, no-nonsense tone.

"Where the hell were you?"

It wasn't exactly the hello she had planned after almost a year apart, but it was what her pain let her articulate through clenched teeth.

Maria just sighed, defeated.

"If I told you, you wouldn't believe me, Nat. We needed to retrieve something important, something from Nick's past. We –"

Natasha raised a hand and realized then she had her back against the wall, her body stiffen by tension.

"Don't," the Russian commanded, "you don't owe me an explanation. I– I don't really care about your mission."

The coldness in her tone was still there, but the stutter betrayed her.

"You're mad. I understand."

It was the honesty, the bareness of Maria's sympathy what made her break inside.

Natasha looked down at the floor and the words came out in a whisper.

"No, I'm not mad."

Maria had stepped towards her carefully, and was now almost at arm's reach. Nat heard her sigh deeply and she could tell without looking at her that she was searching her eyes, and that she feared what Natasha would say, or do.

"Listen… it's been almost a year. I get it if you–"

And Nat just couldn't take it anymore.

"I thought you were dead, at first," she blurted out, halting every movement, every word Maria was about to say. She could feel the tears rolling down her cheeks before she could even feel the wetness in her eyes. She didn't care. She smiled when Maria looked at her with a frown and she saw that sempiternal devotion in her bright blue eyes. Natasha couldn't, wouldn't falter now. She had to let it all out. "And I got mad then, sure," she continued, almost choking at every word, "but after a while Steve convinced me that there was no way you and Nick had gotten yourselves killed so quickly. Besides, Nick has always been an over-dramatic diva, if he was really dead, we would have found out in some spectacular fashion. At least that's what he did last time."

Maria smiled, despite herself.

"Well, you're right about that."

Natasha swallowed hard and wiped her tears with the back of her hand.

"I never told you what I did after everything that happened with S.H.I.E.L.D., during my little hiatus." Maria's body filled up with tension and Nat saw her opening and closing her mouth, as if she knew what Natasha was about to say but knew not how to stop her, and so she went on, ferociously honest. "I went back to Russia and tried to find my parents. Two little gravestones by a chained linked fence. I pulled some weeds and left some flowers. We have what we have, when we have it."

"Nat…"

"And I thought that was it, with you, we had what we had… But now you're here."

When Maria reached out to touch her cheek, Natasha thought her body was going to collapse. She needed Maria to be fierce, strong, forceful even, to take what was hers with brutality to compensate for all this fragility Natasha felt burning through her veins. She wasn't designed for it. She wasn't trained to survive such torture. She didn't know how to let herself be loved.

But Maria showed her, one more time.

The brunette pulled her close to her, and Nat felt the arms she had missed so much around her. It was freakishly strange how perfectly their bodies matched, and Natasha felt all the tension, all the fear and the exhaustion of the past year leaving her body as Maria rested her chin on the top of her head.

She reached out inside Maria's jacket to hug her waist and the warmth that greeted her felt like coming home.

Natasha thought the phrase in her mind, but she never got to say it: kiss me.

Instead, her hands went up Maria's body, fisting her hair and lowering her until she was ravishing her, teeth clashing, tongues exchanging fluids as if they had unlocked the secret of life. It was a statement, the kiss, it was a promise kept and a promise reborn. Natasha's lipstick became a mess painting their faces red but they didn't care. The Russian pulled Maria's leather jacket down, and the sound of it falling to the floor was music to her ears.

Suddenly, there was nothing in the world more important for the Black Widow than unbuttoning Maria's shirt. There was nothing more urgent than unclasping her bra. Pulling her pants down, getting rid of her underwear. She didn't know how, but she managed to do all these tasks while Maria did precisely the same with her. And before Natasha could cry out "Yes!" in Russian, she was spread naked on the bed, ruining the beautiful floral quilt above Maria's grandparents' bed, with Maria three fingers deep inside her. There was no foreplay. No hesitation. Only the feral need of being comforted by the friction of their skins and the invocation of impending orgasms.

Maria bit hard at Natasha's earlobe as her fingers set up a relentless pace. Natasha screamed, not minding Steve and Sam's presence in the house. She just opened up herself to Maria, spreading her legs as wide as her body let her, taking Maria all in, letting herself be fucked, loved, moved, overwhelmed and wrapped by Maria.

Natasha felt it as a ball of fire in her chest, at first. She was confused, as she was feeling a shattering orgasm arriving, but she was not quite there yet.

It burned through her pharynx to sit tight in the back of her throat. A desire. An emotion. An unstoppable force that took over her mind and her body and refused to be ignored. She tried to choke it back, but it burst out her body in the form of happy, silent tears.

And it finally conquered her tongue when she felt Maria's own tongue wrapping around her clit and Maria's fingers pushing her all over the edge.

It was a tiny whisper, at first.

"я люблю тебя."

Maria didn't hear her, the first time.

"я люблю тебя, Masha."

But then it became a chant. A prayer. A song of freedom while Natasha rode her orgasm.

When Maria climbed up her body to look at her face to face, her blue eyes were darkened by tears of her own.

"Nat?" It was all she could stammer. In that moment, Maria's face was the most beautiful thing she had seen, with her expression stunned by Nat's words, showing confusion, fragility, but most of all, hope.

So the Russian just smiled at her as the warm tears slid off her cheeks.

"I love you, Masha," she repeated, "I love you," and again, "I love you," and again, "I love you…"

She didn't let Maria say it back. She kissed her, instead, as if she wanted to make sure her message was understood clearly and without the shadow of a doubt.

Maria did have a chance to say it aloud, plenty of times, for that night they didn't leave the room.

The next morning, after they had showered to at least keep the appearances of looking half-decent, they found freshly made coffee in the kitchen and a note from Steve, certainly it was Steve's handwriting at least, though the directness of the language seemed a bit uncharacteristic, much to Maria's amusement and Natasha's embarrassment...

"Went out scouting. Be right back. PS– About damn time, Nat."