Sorry for how late this is... just been super busy and stuff

I woke up with a start. Outside the train carriage it was dark. I gently took away Steve's hand from my ass and stood.

I couldn't see anything outside, it was pitch black.

"What are you doing?" Steve said softly, surprising me when he wrapped his arms around my waist.

"It's been a while since I've been back here. I left with a lot of enemies."

"And when was that?"

"You lose count of the years..."

"I'm sure it'll be fine." He gently laid his lips against ny neck, laying soft kisses down from there. I smiled slightly and turned to face him.

"You really think now is the time?"

"When is it not?" He murmured, putting his hands up my t-shirt.

I smiled and closed my eyes. "Well, I suppose... if you insist."

"Oh I definitely do."

"I think we could set up a life here..." I said softly as we got off the train in St. Petersburg.

"Except I don't speak the language. And what do you mean, set up a life?"

"You could learn. And I mean get jobs, an apartment. Make friends."

"And what job would you suggest? What can either of us do other than fight?"

"I can dance." I slipped off my high heeled pumps and went on point. I did a simple piruette there on the platform. "And you can draw." I slipped my shoes back on.

"I haven't for... almost twenty years. Ninety if you count the time I was frozen."

"Muscle memory. Practice and it'll come back."

"But how am I supposed to even turn that into a career?"

"Graphics designer, advertisement... there's loads of ways. Now come on." I took his hand and left the station.

We took a cab to a hotel and stayed the night. The next morning I organized an apartment and went to the Imperial Russian Ballet Company studio. All it took was one performance and they hired me. Two days later I was performing in shows daily. Steve got a job at a publishing company, designing book covers.

For a while things were normal. But that was never going to last.

Steve's POV

I neatly combed my slightly damp hair and grabbed the flowers I had bought earlier.

Natasha had gotten tickets for Swan Lake and was insisting I go see it. She had gotten the lead as Odette, the Swan Queen.

I left our modest apartment and, since it was a warm night and there was still light in the sky, decided to walk.

But I was walking past a closing newsagents when my eyes fell on... well, my own eyes. I stopped and picked up the newspaper. It was a copy of the New York Times. It took me a few seconds to realize the small blonde girl gracing the cover was my own daughter, Libby. I payed for it and started reading the interview as I continued walking. One quote was at the top of the double page layout, printed in large italic letters.

"War and fighting destroyed my family and left me an orphan... You think I want to join in the fun?"

I half smiled to myself and tucked away the paper as I approached the theater. I pulled out my ticket and entered.

Natasha was beautiful. She moved with a grace I had never seen before, with anyone. It was incredible.

I watched as the final scene started, with the Prince and Nat and Von Rothbart and the swan maidens. But in the middle of it something seemed to go wrong. Natasha was grabbed by Von Rothbart and when she backed away there was mutters around the crowd. Her back was to the audience, and her movements slow and clumsy. She stepped back and tripped, landing on her back. I heard screams all over the theater at the blood on her stomach. A black dagger was stuck into her. Von Rothbart made a quick exit while the entire audience was in an uproar. The dancers on stage had long since ran away in fright or fainted. Some people were trying to get onstage and help her, while others pulled out phones. Most however were desperately running out, terrified.

I stood and ran down to the stage.

"Let me through! I'm a doctor!" One man started shouting, pushing past people. I knelt down beside Natasha, grabbing her small hand.

"Do you know her?" The doctor asked, taking her pulse.

"I- yes, she's my wife."

"Good. Talk to her."

I looked down at her already pale face. Her eyes were closed.

"Nat? Please, please wake up... I need you. Don't you dare stop breathing. Just open your eyes."

An ambulance arrived after a few minutes. They quickly took her and I climbed in beside Nat.

The drive to the hospital seemed to take too long. Natasha's face only got whiter and whiter. By the time we arrived it looked like chalk.

She needed a blood transplant. Thankfully the knife hadn't hit anything major. She woke up after a few hours.

"Natasha!" I said with relief, standing and going over to her.

She moaned and closed her eyes again. "It hurts."

"I know." I said quietly.

She opened her eyes again and looked at me. "What's that?" She pointed at the newspaper in my hand. I had already read the article a few times.

"Libby. Stark must have signed her up for an interview or something. All of the children were in a photo shoot." I turned to the next page. Libby, Tony and Pepper's daughter Mariah and their five year old son Joseph, Clint and Jennifer's twin six year old daughters, Katie and Misty, Thor and Jane's twin three year old boys Brock and Eddie, and their six year old daughter Erica and Bruce and Liv Tyler's four year old son Eldarion were all posing, most in reference to their parents. Libby was wearing what looked like the costumes the USO girls had worn, and had a copy of my shield in her hand. She was giving the camera a fierce glare. Mariah was smirking in a figure hugging too mature for her age red dress, and on the hand she was holding up to the camera there was a metal glove with a bright circular light on her palm. Joseph was wearing a grey suit with a red shirt and loosely tied gold tie, and had obviously already mastered his fathers arrogant smirk. He had a tiny pair of sunglasses on his small face. Katie and Misty both had a bow in their hands, Katie give a threatening glare and Misty giving a glamorous red carpet smile. Brock and Eddie both had a hand on an ornate and obviously fake hammer, with an easy grin on both their faces. Erica had been elevated somehow, and underneath her high feet were realistic bolts of lightning. Eldarion was looking thoughtfully at a blackboard full of equations he couldn't possibly understand.

Natasha smiled slightly as she looked at it.

"We have to go." She said suddenly after a few minutes, putting her legs over the edge of the bed.

"What? Natasha, you've just been stabbed-"

"Really? I hadn't noticed. Steve, it was them. It was one of their agents. We aren't safe here. They must have followed us, or something."

She stood and winced slightly, but immediately started putting on clothes.

I unwillingly helped her leave the room. We snuck out of the hospital and left St. Petersburg behind us.

Yeah, so some of those names are really crap... but there is a reason behind them all! I swear! Please review! and check out my other avengers fanfic Behind The Olde Sweete Shoppe. it's basically avengers in the 1800's... (I don't know what I was thinking)