Chapter Four

Natasha

Fury always loved his theatrics. A graveyard was the perfect place for a clandestine goodbye.

I saw them, the three of them, over by Nick's pseudo grave. Steve looked good. Healthy. Alive. It made me breathe easier. I visited him once in the hospital after he had woken up. But it had been quick, I think I caught Steve off guard by how jittery I had been, how eager I had been to get out of the room, but maybe he was just groggy, not confused. Sam mentioned they were using pretty heavy duty pain killers for him, since his metabolism was so fast the regular stuff wouldn't work. So maybe he didn't even remember me being there. I hope not, I was a mess. I had felt claustrophobic in that hospital room, surrounded by all the things I wanted to say to him. Trapped by them.

'I can't stop thinking about you,'

'I even dream about you,'

'When I thought you died…..' They were ridiculous. '…..I wanted to.'

But now we are here, far away from hospital rooms. Steve's eyes fell on me. I felt my breath get trapped somewhere between my mouth and my lungs. By just the weight of his gaze. I walk over, and smile. I smile like everything is as it should be.

"You should be honoured. That's as close as he gets to a thank-you." I say brightly, watching Nick Fury walk away. I see Sam discreetly turn away from us, after he meets my eye. It irritates me he knows something is going on. I doubt my display at the hospital convinced him of anything. He caught me off guard. Which makes me feel vulnerable. Exposed.

"Not going with him?" Steve asks me.

"Noo," I say smiling. The last thing I wanted was to chase after Fury. I wanted space from the good director, still smarting that he didn't seem to trust me with his life any more. I wanted to be away from him... Wanted to be my own master for a while.

"Not staying here?" He asks.

I look at him, his voice gives nothing away. I feel all the words I want to say bubbling up in my chest. Fighting to get out. So instead, to save what remains of my dignity, I shift my wait from one foot, to distract from any facial ticks that may give away that I am lying, "I blew all my covers, I gotta go figure out a new one." I smile up at him.

"That might take awhile," His voice seems heavy but I keep my expression light.

"I'm counting on it." I say in a flirtatious way. I take a deep breath to steady my nerves, "I got something for you. Called in a few favours from Kiev." I hand him the file I got on the Winter Soldier.

I suddenly know I am going to say it. Ask to go with him and Sam. Help him find Bucky. I realize the file isn't enough, I want to give him more. More help. More of me. I realize then I would be happy to give him, anything... everything.

Then reality comes back to me, in that same blink. And I know soon, he will know everything about me. Who I really am. The file dump from S.H.I.E.L.D. ...Saved the world, ended mine. As easily as a Google search. I smile up at him, and find myself still wanting to make sure he is happy, before he knows about the real Natalia Ivana Romanova. "You should call that nurse,"

He smiles at me, like he wants to shake his head, 'Silly Nat,' "She isn't a nurse."

"You're not a S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent." Because he isn't. Not only because S.H.I.E.L.D. turned out to be a shell of an idea, but because he never was. Not really. Not Steve, he was never really like us. Damaged. Broken...a false truth.

He suddenly looks up at me from the file, "What was her name again?"

I don't hesitate, I don't stutter like the very air has been sucked from my lungs, I just say it "Sharon," I smile lightly, "You should call her, she's nice," I add. Because that is what we do. Steve and I. I set him up, and he says no. Only this time he wasn't saying no. I look down at the ground because I can't stand to look at him anymore.

Worst thing is. Sharon is nice. She's nice and safe and probably on a sliding scale fairly well adjusted. Sharon is the complete opposite of me.

My window has been slammed shut. The fact I even thought I had an opening was laughable. Totally ludicrous. Because after all a Captain doesn't fall for a spider.

I roll up onto my toes and let my lips brush over his cheek, I allow myself this. This one small indulgence. He looks down at me and I notice he has a slightly green fleck in his blue eyes. Huh. Quickly, I turn around and walk away from Steve Rogers.

"Be careful Steve," I say as I walk away, "Might not want to pull on that thread," I want to get away, start running. Slam the lid on Steve's box. But I can't do that around him. It's impossible. So, I walk away from the first man I have ever been stupid enough to really and truly fall in love with, and try to move on with my life.