A/N: Spoiler Alert! This was story was inspired by Captain America: Civil War.

Enjoy, and don't forget to review.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and Black' Victor Cachat for brainstorming.

Warning: This chapter has content that is not suitable for anyone under the age of 21. If you're under the age of 21 and read this anyway, I'm telling your mom.

Namaste,

Sunny

Captain America

Civil War

I Still Believe

Once in A Lullaby

Joint Counter Terrorist Center

Berlin, Germany

Secure Lock-up

Everett Ross stood in the secure lock-up staring at the empty box that had once held the Winter Soldier's backpack, jacket and cap. They'd been checked in at the same time as Falcon's wing pack, and Rogers' shield.

Where had the confiscated items gone, and who took them? According to the security cameras and the guards, no one had come or gone since before the blackout. Because the cameras were out during that time, anyone could've taken anything they wanted, and not gotten caught, if they knew how to avoid security personnel. That made it an inside job. Or did it? With Barnes causing chaos, would anyone have noticed someone who didn't belong?

There was talk that Tony Stark now had possession of the shield. However, the arrogant sonofa**** refused to substantiate the claim. Every time Secretary Ross called him, Stark put him on hold, and never came back. That's the word on the streets anyway. Naturally, the secretary wouldn't admit that he was being put off by one of the richest men in the world.

He closed the box with an angry slap, rubbed the end of his nose, and left the secured area, saying to the guards, "No one goes in or out without my say-so. No one."

Everett stalked to the lifts, and hit the up button with more force than necessary, tapping his heel on the floor in a rapid rhythm. The doors finally opened. He got on, and chose a floor. Someone was going down for this, and it wouldn't be him.

The Raft

The women left Wanda in her cell, and as they passed, Clint rolled off the bed, and came to lean on the bars as if he were at a bar, eyeing the "talent". He nodded, giving each one his most charming grin. "Ladies. Any chance of getting an all-female squad for my next shower? Need someone to wash my back."

The squad leader, who'd only given the name Reese, hung back until the others had moved out of earshot. "You've got about as much chance of that as I have of walkin' on water, Barton."

"C'mon, Reese," he wheedled. "Don't be like that. I thought we had some sort of connection goin' on here."

Reese snorted. "That was before I found out you have a wife and kids." Clint kept grinning, one eyebrow raised, waiting. Eventually, Reese gave in. "What d'you want this time? Extra chocolate pudding at dinner again? How 'bout a snifter of brandy for afters, or a bottle of Dom Pérignon to go with your Boeuf Bourguignon?"

He leaned his shoulder against the wall and crossed his arms. "Personally, I prefer Australian wine with mine. Clarendon Hills 2004 Brookman Merlot, when I want to splurge. For every-day, I'll take either Craggy Range 2004 Sophia Gimblett Graves out of Hawk's Bay, or Banrock Station 2005 from South Eastern Australia."

From the blankness of her expression, Clint could tell he'd impressed Reese with his knowledge of wine, though she wasn't ready to forgive him for flirting with her while married.

"Your wife makes Boeuf Bourguignon often?"

He chuckled, and pushed off the wall. "We have three kids age ten and under. The two oldest are home-schooled, and the baby is teething. The fanciest meal either of us has time to make is Swedish meatballs, or Jambalaya, and that's usually in the crockpot." Clint had her, and he knew it. What was worse, she knew it too. Maybe Laura was right when she said women found family men sexier than single men. He leaned fractionally closer, lowering his voice. "I'm not asking for myself, Reese. It's for Wanda. She's been depressed-not that I blame her. Been there myself. And I promise there are no booby traps. Not asking you to open the doors. Wasn't even thinking about it." He grinned again. "Please?"

"Fine. As long as I don't get into trouble."

Motioning her closer still, he laid out his idea, and when he was done, Reese grudgingly agreed. After all, they wouldn't be getting out of their cells for it. He only wanted her to play a certain song, and turn on the jumbo screen opposite their cells so they could see each other.

Reese's shift started at 2200. Once the previous shift had gone to their quarters, and were settled for the night, it would be all systems go.

2245 That Night

Wanda shifted on her bed, trying to find a comfortable position in which to sleep. But like every other night since their arrival, it proved futile. Closing her eyes, she breathed in the meditating rhythm taught to her by Natasha, and reinforced by Clint during their Tai Chi sessions. Just as she was about to succumb, someone turned on music, and the large wall monitor came on.

Instead of the weather, or the surrounding area, which gave away nothing of their exact location, this time she saw herself and the men. Something odd was going on. They were standing in the middle of their cells, arms at their sides, and heads down.

As the intro began to play, the men snapped their fingers in time to the beat as their heads came up.

Clint sang the first line of the song, and Sam the second.

We've got sunshine on a cloudy day
When it's cold outside we've got the month of May

Scott seemed a bit nervous as he sang the next two lines, gaining confidence when no one laughed at his voice.

Well I guess you'd say
What can make us feel this way?

All three sang together on the next two lines.

Our girl (our girl, our girl)
Talkin' 'bout our girl (our girl)

All three men included choreography, and though it wasn't perfect, Wanda was warmed by their attempt to make her feel better.

We've got so much honey the bees envy us
We've got a sweeter song than the birds in the trees

She stood, and walked to the bars, letting them see her smile, and know how grateful she was to have them as friends.

Well I guess you'd say
What can make us feel this way?
Our girl (our girl, our girl)
Talkin' 'bout our girl (our girl o-oh)

The men made a spin, one after the other, and Scott shrugged self-deprecatingly when he fell against the bars. He didn't let it dampen his spirit though, and Wanda found herself warming up to the new Avengers recruit, smiling just for him.

Hey-hey-hey
Hey-hey-hey

O-ooh yeah

Grinning, Wanda nodded in time to the music. Even tried a few dance steps.

We don't need no money,

Fortune, or fame (o-oh hey-hey-hey)
We've got all the riches baby

Three men can claim (oh yes I do)

I guess you'd say
What can make us feel this way?
Our girl (our girl, our girl)
Talkin' 'bout our girl (our girl)

We've got sunshine on a cloudy day

With our girl

We've even got the month of May

With our girl

We've got sunshine on a cloudy day

With our girl

We've even got the month of May

With our girl (our girl, our girl)

Talkin' 'bout our girl (our girl o-oh)

Our girl!

The music faded out, and the cellmates and friends made a final spin to end the song. The guards in the pit, as Clint called their stations the next level down, stood and applauded. And because they could see each other now, they took a bow.

~~O~~

Once everything had calmed down, and the guards had gone back to their jobs, Clint sat on the floor of his cell leaning against the wall, poking a finger at the bars, and humming My Girl. He didn't sing often, mostly for the kids, and Laura. Occasionally, he could be convinced to join some of his pals at the Sweet Hereafter Bar and Grill for some karaoke, or to sit in with the band on a few songs. He gave up performing in front of audiences long before he met and married Laura. It sure wasn't something he wanted to go back to. Not really. He appreciated that it made Wanda feel better. If they could do something similar every couple of weeks, maybe being here wouldn't be so bad until Steve and Natasha could plan and execute a rescue. At this moment, they were probably out recruiting help. They just had to be patient, and wait for a signal.

Clint thought about Laura, and their appointment with the attorney a few weeks ago to have papers drawn up. Once they were signed by all interested parties, he would breathe easier.

After their battle with Ultron, he'd told Laura all about the twins, and how Pietro had lost his life saving Clint and a small boy. It had been her idea to name their son after Pietro, and Laura was constantly asking about Wanda. Her state of mind, if she had family and a home, if she was happy. In her opinion, living at the Avengers compound didn't fit her definition of anything. A few months after Ultron, Laura had put forth the idea of making Wanda, a girl without a family, a home, or a country, a part of their family, and Clint loved her even more for it.

But what would Wanda say? They'd had plenty of opportunities for him to ask her while they were locked in their cells with only each other and the guards for company, yet he hadn't broached the subject, not even as a "what if…" scenario.

He didn't want the others to know, not until it was a done deal, meaning Wanda had said yes. However, Clint could only think of one other way to approach her. Not a fan of telepathy, he hesitated to attempt contact. But then he realized, if he wanted her to trust him, and join his family, he had to show the same trust he was asking her to share.

Closing his eyes, Clint breathed deeply, relaxing his mind, and focusing his energy on projecting his thoughts. When he felt he was ready, he reached out.

~~O~~

Wanda's mind relaxed as she employed meditation to help her sleep, and in that place between sleep and awake, she heard Clint's "voice".

*Wanda? Can you hear me?*

She sat up on the side of the bed, and at first the thought she was hallucinating, the she'd begun to go mad in this horrible place. **Clint? How are you contacting me?** Sensing his sheepish smile, the one they didn't often see, she smiled herself.

*It's not easy. Might not be able to keep it up long. I've had something on my mind for a while.*

**I've felt it, though I would never invade your privacy without good cause.** There was a long pause in which Wanda sensed that Clint was having a difficult time contacting her through the link. She got up, and went to the bars. "Clint? Are you okay?"

He slapped the cell door, and made a sound of pain and frustration. "Gah! My head's pounding."

"Then say it."

"I sort of wanted it to be just between us, but I guess that's not gonna happen." Clint sighed, though not in a way that said he was annoyed. If he had, she would've felt it. "Laura and I have been talking, and…"

"What?" Wanda sensed his hesitation, as if what he had to say would not be well received by her. "Whatever it is, I won't laugh."

"We talked it over with the kids, too, and it's unanimous. How would you like to become part of our family?" Stunned, at first, Wanda didn't respond, and Clint obviously believed she thought he was crazy. "Never mind. It was a ridiculous idea."

She rushed to reassure him, "No, it is not." That he cared enough to invite her to join his family filled her with emotions she'd forgotten she possessed. "I would be honored, Clint."

~~O~~

Yawning, Reese got up to walk the perimeter of the security level Barton called the pit to stay awake. Her partner was dozing at his station, and didn't move a muscle. After three complete circuits, Reese returned to her station, scooting close to the desk, only part of her attention on the screen until she saw something odd on Maximoff's.

The girl was sitting on the side of her bed, two small tears making tracks down her cheeks. Reese had tried to ignore the conversation between Maximoff and Barton; difficult to do being in the same room. Now the girl was crying. Reese snorted, and picked up her e-reader, shaking her head. "Mutants are weird."

Wakanda

Natasha's Room

After Midnight

Ever since Natasha forbade him from going on their rescue mission, Bucky had been uneasy without knowing why. It wasn't that she would be far away where he wouldn't be able to protect her. She'd done a fantastic job of taking care of herself before they met in Bucharest. Knowing that Steve and T'Challa would be there was well made him feel a little better about staying behind.

The shower came on, and over the patter of the drops on the tile, he heard Natasha singing a lullaby, and though she sang it in English, he heard it in Russian. Or was it the other way around? Sometimes he couldn't tell. On occasion, Steve would look at him oddly, and he'd realize that, at some point in their conversation, he'd switched to Russian, and Steve hadn't understood a word he said.

Somewhere, over the rainbow, way up high
There's a land that I heard of once in a lullaby

Somewhere, over the rainbow, skies are blue
And the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true

Someday I'll wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far behind me

Where troubles melt like lemon drops
Away above the chimney tops
That's where you'll find me

Somewhere over the rainbow, bluebirds fly
Birds fly over the rainbow
Why then, oh why can't I?

If happy little bluebirds fly
Beyond the rainbow
Why, oh why, can't I?

Closing his eyes, Bucky tried to bring to mind a picture of the younger Natasha he'd met at the Red Room so many years ago. Images flitted and flashed, finally settling on her face, that red hair tied back, and the look in her eyes that was at once vulnerable and guarded, as if she didn't fully trust him, or had once given him her trust, and had it thrown back in her face. She never mentioned such events the night they arrived in Wakanda, so where did these visions come from? And how to make them stop?

The bathroom light went out, and Natasha came out wearing a towel, and drying her hair with another. Bucky sat up on the side of the bed, and she came to stand between his knees. He took the towel, and rubbed her head. In response, she sighed, and her hands touched the tops of his thighs, lightly skimming up to his hips and back down to his knees over the material of his pants, pausing now and then to gently massage the muscles. His body reacted to her touch, and she glanced over her shoulder with a sly grin.

Abruptly, she turned to face him, taking the towel from him, and tossing it away. One hand dropped to his waist on the left, curling into the flesh, and the other slid slowly up the outside of the right to his shoulder. That same arm encircled Natasha's waist to pull her tightly against his chest.

The hand on his shoulder joined the other in framing his face as she leaned in to capture his lips with hers. Bucky held on as he lay back, bringing her with him onto the bed. They scooted around so his head was on the pillows. Natasha pulled her mouth from his, kissing all along his jaw, and down his throat. He stopped her before she'd gone too far, rolling until she was under him, telling her with a smile that he would be taking the lead.

Now between her thighs, Bucky moved back onto his knees and slowly pulled the corner of the towel loose. He spread the sides, baring her to his eyes, and wondering, not for the first time, how he could be so lucky to have a woman like her care for him.

He leaned down to plant a soft kiss on her forehead, hearing her sigh at the contact. He gave the same treatment to each cheek just in front of her ears then to the corners of her mouth, and lastly, her lips. She made a sound in her throat, begging him not to go when he separated their mouths instead of deepening the kiss.

Natasha rubbed her hands over his bare chest, seemingly fascinated by the dark hair. He captured one before it could wander, and kissed the palm, placing it and its mate beside her head on the pillow, and continuing his journey.

As always, she responded so beautifully to his worship of her slim body, telling him without words that what they had together was heartfelt, undeniable, and would last for all time. When the end approached, she refused to go there alone, insisting they take the ride together.

And afterward, they lay in each other's arms, skin flushed, and energy spent. Sleep beckoned, and Bucky answered the call, drifting into that sweet oblivion with Natasha tucked close to his side.

~~O~~

The dream started not long after Bucky had passed into sleep. He was back in Siberia, shackled to the chair. Someone stood in front of him holding the red book, speaking the words that sent a ribbon of dread through his mind.

"Sil'noe zhelaniye… rzhavet… semnadtsat'…"

But this time, it wasn't Karpov.

"…rassvet…"

"…pech'…"

Nor was it the other man, the one who wanted the mission report from December 16, 1991, the day he'd taken the life of Howard and Maria Stark. He didn't want to live through that night again. Didn't want to remember any of it, but he did.

"…devyat…"

"…dobrokachestvennaya …"

He watched helplessly as strangers he passed on the street uttered the words that would send him on another mindless rampage. He tried to run, but they pursued him.

"…vozvrashcheniye domoy…"

"…odin…"

"…gruzovoy avtomobil'…"

Bucky saw and heard himself speaking the words, "Ya gotov otvechat'" as he killed random people who'd done nothing more than get in his way.

Then he went after Steve and Natasha.

A bright light seared through his brain, and when it cleared, Steve was dead on the floor, his skull crushed, and his chest caved in. He was kneeling over Natasha, again choking the life out of her as he had in Berlin. And like before, her eyes begged him to remember her.

But, his orders were clear: Sanction, and return to base.

Natasha gripped his hand, digging between his fingers and her neck, leaving deep scratches, and blood as she attempted to pry his grip from her throat. She struggled to breathe, gasped his name one last time, and was still, her eyes staring sightlessly out at the world. No, she was looking at him, accusingly, her grip loosening, hands falling away. He released her, and backed toward the door, horrified at his actions.

Natasha's body sat up, calling out to him in a voice that wavered in the cool night air. "Bucky-y-y… Come ba-a-ack… Why did you kill me? I thought you loved me-e-e-e…"

Bucky had just killed the woman he loved. There was no coming back from that. She reached out for him, her fingers looking more like the claws of some prehistoric creature as they scraped the front of his shirt, leaving scratches down his chest.

More frightened now than at the moment he fell from the train, and knew he was going to die, Bucky turned and ran into the night.

TBC

My Girl was recorded by The Temptations December, 1964. It was written and produced by The Miracles members Smokey Robinson and Ronald White.

Over the Rainbow (often referred to as Somewhere over the Rainbow) is a ballad, with music by Harold Arlen and lyrics by E.Y. Harburg. It was written for the movie The Wizard of Oz (1939), and was sung by Judy Garland, in her starring role as Dorothy Gale.

From Google Translate:

Longing - sil'noe zhelaniye

Rusted - rzhavet

Seventeen – semnadtsat'

Daybreak - rassvet

Furnace – pech'

Nine - devyat

Benign - dobrokachestvennaya

Homecoming - vozvrashcheniye domoy

One - odin

Freight Car - gruzovoy avtomobil'

Soldier = Soldat

Ready to comply = Ya gotov otvechat'