A/N: I would like to thank everyone that has reviewed this story. I truly appreciate the kind words, it means a lot to me. I'm very happy you are enjoying this story.
Natasha's safe house.
There was no sound, but Natasha felt a movement, a shifting of the air in her room, the warmth of another presence. She kept her eyes closed, as she tried to remember what had happened to her. How in the hell had she gotten back home? Almost everything after the three men in the alley had taken her, was coming up blank. She waited as fragmented memories of the night before floated through her mind.
"Open your eyes," James demanded. When Natasha didn't even move, he repeated the command with more steel in his voice. "Open your eyes, Romanoff."
He waited impatiently for her comply. Wanting to know whether he should expect a repeat of the night before. He watched her as she stirred. Her hair was matted, dried mud stuck to her cheek, and her shirt and jeans were ripped, covered in mud and grass stains.
Natasha groaned. "My head hurts."
"That's your brain trying to comprehend its own stupidity." James replied, his voice deep and gravelly.
It had taken all his self-control to leave her last night, and he hadn't until after he'd reassured himself that she was fine. Everything that had happened the night before between them, left him feeling on edge. He was angry with her. Being angry, and not trusting her, allowed him to be distant. Safe. Because Natasha Romanoff was trouble and danger and everything bad in one petite, sexy package.
Natasha opened her eyes, a mix of anger and wary amusement easing into them. Barnes stood at the foot of her bed. A gray T-shirt hugged his wide shoulders and broad chest, then hung loose over his tight abdomen. A pair of worn Levi's embraced long legs, and broke across the tops of well-worn combat boots. She peered at the fuzzy daylight streaming through the window. Her head throbbed like a bitch. Her mouth felt like a carpet. She pushed herself off the bed and stood up shakily.
kicking her muddy shoe's aside, she stumbled to her dresser. Every movement was painful and slow, the wood floor cold on the pads of her feet. Natasha took out a bottle of aspirin, swallowed three without water, and headed for the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Aware that Barnes was tracking her every move. But she wasn't ready to deal with him, she had too many things about Damascus to shift through. Too many blanks to fill in.
"What hell happened to you last night?" James asked through the closed door. the sound of the shower being turned on was the only response he got. After a few minutes, he could just see wisps of steam curling around the edges of the door. Hot shower. Thinking about what she looked like naked and wet made him a candidate for a cold one. He closed his eyes, clenched his fists and drew in a ragged breath. He needed to focus on HYRDA, not her.
The knowledge that the operation was compromised thrummed through James. Hydra was on the move, and he and Romanoff we're on a clock. They'd have to move fast to try to contain the damage and harden their defenses before it was too late. He fully expected HYDRA to make an appearance very soon. The difference this time was he was prepared to make a stand.
And anyone that came their way was an enemy.
Turning the water as hot as it would go, Natasha stepped under the spray and steeped for what seemed like hours. Her muscles were bunched and tightened; she was tense and felt stretched out like a rubber band. She just let the heat pound down all around her, looking until the water was no longer stained brown with mud.
She remembered little more than bits and pieces of Syria-not enough to connect the dots-but she knew someone had played with her mind. She could conjure nothing of true significance, no fully fleshed scenario that had taken place after she'd been taken captive. Her mind worked furiously to grab onto something that would tell her what had happened to her.
She took a deep breath and tried to remember the past, but no matter how hard she tried, nothing new came to her. Unclear images floated around her brain but she simply had no control over what she could latch on to. Nausea hit her as though she were afraid of heights, then searing pain lanced through her brain. Her hands trembling.
"Shit" she murmured, her blood turning to ice. This wasn't the first time she'd had an episode like that. This Red Room tactic of suppressing her memories. The whole time her mind kept spinning, looking for who she'd missed. Who was left alive from the Red Room other than her? Cold rage slide through her. Whoever had messed with her was going to die. Slowly. Painfully.
Natasha turned off the water and stood motionless in the shower, considering the situation. Most aspects of what had happened in Damascus remained shrouded in mystery. However, she now knew two particulars. Zemo being in Syria had been an elaborate ruse to draw her out into the open and HYDRA didn't want her dead, or she'd already be dead. No, they wanted something else with her entirely.
The question was what? And what was Barnes' involvement in it? Was he pretending to be normal? Was he so good, that he could fool her? That answer didn't feel right. No. This was about her and Barnes. Her instincts were screaming it at her. It didn't really matter one way or the other. She had nothing to grasp onto except the bare bones of a mystery. She had all the questions without a clue where to even begin looking for some answers
Natasha climbed out and dressed herself, shoving her wet hair back. She felt better because she was cleaner, but she still felt ready to come out of her skin. She needed answers, or at the very least, a hint of what direction to go in. Right now, she had nothing, and she found that incredibly frustrating.
Also frustrating was the walking billboard for all things wicked and carnal, that had invaded her turf, and was still in her bedroom. She didn't want or need a partner. Especially if that partner turned out to be a HYDRA plant. The thought put a knot in Natasha's stomach. She was going on faith that Barnes was the square shooter she'd assumed he was. Either way, Barnes was a loose cannon and Natasha wanted him out of her life as fast as she could get rid of him.
True doubt about Barnes crept in. Natasha was trained to see evil in innocent actions, to question all possibilities. She had to face the fact that Barnes could be using her right now. That he'd initiated contact in Panama for a particular purpose that had nothing to do with taking down HYDRA.
To what end, she didn't exactly know. But she had to admit she could be working with a partner trying to get something from her or maneuver her in some way. But like it or not, she was stuck with Barnes. She'd just have to ignore the fact that the man had one of those dark, deep voices, the kind that made men listen and women shed their clothing. She needed to push him. Determine how far, if at all, she should trust him.
It was time to find out what Barnes really wanted. And she had no intention of playing nice. "Time to redefine the word Bitch."
Ten minutes later Natasha held up a hand as she walked out of her bedroom. "Talk to me and you'll be as dead as Monty Python's parrot." She told James in a voice that said if he did she'd likely slit his throat.
"Are you threatening me?" He asked, completely outraged at such a thing. He was also relieved that she was fully in control of herself once more.
"You bet your incredibly attractive and probably hard enough to bounce a quarter off ass I am!" The look she gave him would have withered a lesser man.
As Natasha made her way into the kitchen, she was grateful to see that the coffee had already been made. She snatched up a mug, plastered her lips to the cup and sucked down a scalding hot mouthful. It burned, but she didn't give a damn. She held the cup to her chest as if it were her best friend while feeling the instant affect the caffeine had on her mood and smiled. "Hello, lover."
James paused in stride at the kitchen's entry way stunned. Until he realized Romanoff was talking to her coffee, not him. He took in the salient details of her with a practiced glance. Waiting for his heart to beat normally again. She wore a sleeveless black top that exposed her toned arms and shoulders. The slight dip at the top of her shirt exposed the swell of her breasts every time she took a breath. Trying to find something safer to focus on, he dropped his gaze only to find black leggings hugging her body like a second skin. It was enough to make him wonder if she'd cranked the houses heat all the way up.
Though he was lost in thought, anger was humming just under the surface. "I take it I can speak now. What the hell happened to you?!" He finally asked.
Natasha glanced up from her coffee cup to look at him. Betraying no expression at all. Her face a closed book. Barnes filled the doorframe—all six plus feet of him. He was an imposing individual with his wide shoulders straining his gray T-shirt, intense stare, and don't-fuck-with-me manner. He had an edge to his expression, as if he didn't trust anyone.
"I don't know." She answered crisply.
James considered her terse answer. He glanced out the window then back at Romanoff. "You don't know or you won't tell me?"
Natasha looked down at the cuts and bruises on her arms, she could feel every one of them all over her body. "I think I fell down a hill…No, I think I may have been pushed." She stated, sounding though she were addressing the observation to herself instead of him. She'd been scared last night, afraid of what had been chasing her. But what the hell had it been? Natasha looked sharply back up at James, her muscles tightening, as a fuzzy memory of her fighting him the night before hit her. "You were there. We fought."
"No. I was here. You came running through the door, beat to hell, panicked and incoherent." James informed her. "I thought you had a battalion of HYDRA soldiers after you. Then you attacked me." He leaned against the doorjamb and put his arms across his chest. "So, let's try again. What happened?" anger and resentment warred within him, along with a million questions.
Natasha took another sip of her coffee and returned his gaze with her same featureless, unreadable expression. She asked a question of her own instead of answering his. "What day is it?"
"Saturday."
She nodded, trying to think through the last several days. All she could remember was the big, sweaty guy in the alley and his friends. Nothing about where she'd been taken or what they had done to her. Her greater concern though was that they had known to bring her here, to her safe house. How had they discovered where she lived?
Natasha shrugged, looking at the angry, incredibly impatience man standing in her kitchen. "I remember bits and pieces of last night. I'm certain I was given some type of Hallucinogenic drug."
"Does that happen to you a lot?" James asked sarcastically, as he walked toward the refrigerator. "You, the woman who blows up buildings and can carve up a man three times her size in ten seconds. That must have been fun."
"Oh, it was marvelous," Natasha replied. A smile playing across her lips, amusement dancing in her eyes. "A truly unique experience. I'll have to do it again sometime." Natasha poured more coffee into her mug, she put the pot down, turned and held onto the counter behind her for support. "Also, you forgot to mention my sniper-like shooting skills."
James grabbed a bottle of water from the frig and turned to her. It physically hurt to look at her, she was so goddamn beautiful. Her sun-kissed skin had a golden tint to it, making her long-lashed, jade-green eyes stand out in her oval face. Full, drop-a-man-to-his-knees lips were slightly parted as she looked at him.
A tilt of her head brought her long-red hair falling over one shoulder in thick strands. One lock fell against her cheek, the end brushing the corner of her mouth. She barely reached his shoulder, but he'd learned that what she lacked in height she made up for in determination, brains, and skill. As he drank, he looked his fill. He allowed himself this small violation of the rules he'd put in place for himself last night concerning her.
With the water finished, he tossed the empty bottle into the trash and sat down at the kitchen table. James told himself this was a mission like any other. Except it wasn't. Because she was there. Willful, secretive, fierce Romanoff.
"You're staring" Natasha said without looking up from her coffee mug.
"I'm thinking"
She shot him a wry look "About what?"
"What happened before they drugged you?" James took a deep breath. Her non-answers were getting under his skin.
"The last thing I remember clearly is letting myself get captured in Damascus Tuesday afternoon. Everything in between is blank." Natasha told him conversationally, sounding as though she was discussing the weather.
He paused for a moment to let her words sink in. "You let yourself get captured?! On purpose?! Are you an idiot or do you just have a death wish?" James stood up, knocking his chair back violently, his eyes flashing his temper, although his voice was quiet. Quiet steel.
Natasha turned away and set her coffee cup down hard, turning her fingers into tight fists. "I know you don't think I had a clue what I was getting into, Barnes, but I'm not stupid. I didn't just up and decide to let them take me. It's something I thought about and planned out." But she knew that even the most well thought out plans, the no-holes plans, could sometimes fail.
"Clearly." James snorted, his blue eyes darkening in frustration. "Tell me did you get any useful intel during the days you can't remember?" He watched Natasha's shoulders tense as she looked down at the kitchen counter.
A memory of Syria arose, as unwelcome as the man standing in her kitchen. But Natasha kept it to herself. Another man had been there with her in Damascus. He'd wanted her and Barnes both to remember something. That it had been vital to her captor that she remember her past.
"Actually, Yes. Whoever is in charge, is dangerous, unstable." Turning back around. Her eyes narrowing pointedly at James, Natasha asked. "Remind you of anyone?" To herself she thought, "Dangerous enough that he could get inside my head and mess with it."
"Do you know how many of them there were? Or what types of weapons they had? Anything useful?"
"So sorry," Natasha said, her voice tight. "But if I'd known there was going to be a firearms examination at the end of the kidnapping, by God, I would have studied for it!" Frustrated with him that he was angry with her for doing her job.
Rage crackled and hissed within James at the sarcastic comment. It felt as if the careful, diplomatic dance they had been engaged in had ended. He knew what HYDRA could make you do if they were in control. Romanoff had definitely not been in control last night. How could the woman have been so stupid as to let HYDRA take her? How in the hell could she be so calm about it? He was living proof of what HYDRA could do to a person.
"Do you have any idea what HYRDA could have done to you? What they could have made you do to someone else?!" James snarled, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets. "If you survive, you've got to live with the guilt, and that's more difficult than looking someone in the eye and pulling the trigger. Trust me. I've done both."
"And you think I haven't! I don't sell Avon for a living." Natasha snapped back. Christ the man was infuriating.
"I came here to protect you from Hydra and you let yourself get taken."
Natasha glowered back at James. Watching him, his hands buried in his pockets—to keep from circling her neck she supposed—she couldn't help but marvel at the curious mix of 1940's chivalry and alpha male arrogance. She wanted to punch him and understand him simultaneously. She took a couple of steps toward him. "I can take care of myself, Barnes. I'm a spy, an assassin. It's what I do. I get close to the enemy, very close. And I'm the best at it."
"Normally, I might agree. But you need to think long and hard about where you were inside that head of yours last night, because you were panicked. You were hysterical and I need to know what it was that took you there so I can make sure you never go back." James said, his entire body rigid, his jaw clenching. "You need to understand that HYDRA is dangerous, Romanoff."
After DC James had learned that the Russian government was comprised almost entirely of HYDRA, and that they had worked their way through all levels of the American government as well. Making it easy to see why HYDRA had such an extensive reach seemingly everywhere. It sickened James to know that his own country-the nation he'd fought for, had been wounded for, and had been prepared to die for- was involved with such a group. Even worse was the knowledge that despite everything the Avengers and Steve had done over the last several years, HYDRA still existed.
"Why am I giving this guy the time of day?" Natasha wondered. Any other human being who'd seen her in the state she'd been in last night, would be banished to the furthest recesses of her mind, never to be resurrected unless she drank too much vodka.
"I don't need you to keep me safe." She ground out.
"If I say I will protect you, I will. They want you dead. HYDRA's not going to just stop hunting you." James burst out, exasperation flavoring his tone. He was going to protect her come hell or high water. There might be debate, and she wouldn't like it, but he'd deal with that later.
He watched the angry woman standing across the room from him. How had she managed to get away? Or even get all the way back to her house. Romanoff had been in no condition last night to effectively fight anyone, much less a group of HYDRA guards. She'd said she'd been in Damascus. The safe house was nowhere near the war-torn city.
Natasha mentally cracked her knuckles. Time to go for the jugular.
"Yeah, got a scar on my shoulder that proves fucked up can hunt you down just cause your breathing." She replied savagely. Her face a mask of calculated indifference.
James shoved his fingers through his hair and didn't say a word. Natasha wasn't even sure he was breathing. Tension showed in every line of his body.
"I'm sorry. That was bitchy. This situation isn't your fault." Natasha said, throat tight.
But James didn't appear to hear her apology. His hands fisted at his sides, a hard, dangerous edge in his eyes. And she realized it wasn't anger she sensed, but rage. Seething. Building. He did not like the reminder of their past, nor would he look her in the eye. His steely glare was pinned to the wall over her shoulder.
"I did not choose to be a monster—a shell of a man—Part-human, part-." He lifted his bionic arm and gestured roughly with it. "But I am choosing to never let anyone turn me into their weapon again." He said, his voice vibrating with fury. Natasha had nothing to say. She sat down in her kitchen chair.
James nostrils flared as he continued to glare. "You're one cold fucking bitch." He told her, as he stormed past her and out the back door to do a perimeter check.
He needed a moment alone. An immediate moment alone.
James waited until he was far out of sight of the house before stopping and trying to get his anger in check. The infuriating woman knew exactly how to exasperate him, even without words. And she never seemed to get riled up about anything, which only pissed him off more. Until her sudden reminder about him shooting her.
Romanoff kept everything hidden and held tightly in check. The walls she'd erected were so tall and thick no one could get through. She'd acted as if what HYDRA had done to her was little more than an inconvenience to her week. Yet somehow, he'd managed to piss her off? No. That didn't ring true. She wasn't someone that lost control of their emotions.
James' mind sifted through all the different scenarios of what Romanoff might be up to. She was a spy and spies manipulated and played games. They sought intel, not conflict without cause. "God Damn it!" James growled. She was playing him again. Pushing him toward a reaction. She had a particular goal in mind with her game. The question was what was it?
Was she trying to get him to walk away, let her handle HYDRA on her own? She could have gotten rid of him by simply giving his location up while she'd been in Damascus. James blew out a heavy breath as the answer hit him. Syria. Every time her gaze had landed on him this morning it had been with annoyance or distrust. He'd shown up in her life and her very next mission had gone to hell.
If he'd been under HYDRA's control, if he were their Winter Soldier, he wouldn't have given a damn about shooting her. In fact, he probably would have been amused by her anger over it. Found it mildly interesting that she'd managed to survive three separate encounters with him. But he wasn't the Winter Soldier anymore. All he felt was weighed down by guilt over what he'd done and angry with her for reminding him of a past he wanted to forget.
Rubbing a hand over his face, James turned and headed back to the house. All he could do was hope that she'd gotten the answers she was looking for from him. And maybe, see if he could get her to dial down the bullshit a little. Dealing with her was like being at sea in a category five hurricane. In a row boat. With a hole in it.
Natasha knew exactly what she was. The life she lived made her shut down her emotions, but the truth was, Barnes got under her skin in a way no one had in a long time. Cold, she most definitely was. How else could she get through each day? She'd wanted to push him for a genuine emotional response. See if he could be trusted. See if he was actually in control of himself.
She was known for being well-spoken. Known for reading a situation and doing and/or saying whatever was needed. To know the words that needed to be said when everything around them was falling apart. Yet somehow, she'd just managed to say the worst thing possible to a man just reaching out for some help.
Normally she didn't believe in guilt, she simply hadn't been trained to worry about what she told people. But for once, she was shaken enough to feel real guilt that she'd gone farther than she should have with Barnes. At least, she now was certain of what she'd hoped to be true all along. Barnes was a victim, not a villain. He was also a nuisance. Something along the lines of accidentally rubbing chili in your eye while cooking. Bloody annoying, stings like a bitch, but it won't kill you.
Every HYDRA base she'd brought down was cause for celebration. But she simply moved on to the next. It was a never-ending war. Now, she was in the middle of another one. A new one that changed all the rules. And this time, Barnes had been brought into it with her. The idea of having to work with Barnes was its own type of torment. But she was pretty damn sure HYDRA hadn't yet gotten what they wanted from Barnes. Which meant she needed to keep him close.
Who were these people running HYDRA? It was no mystery that the clandestine organization wanted power and world domination. The fact that they were willing to free Barnes and take her captive told Natasha how serious they were. She had no choice but to work with Barnes to stop HYDRA and figure out how they were connected to the Red Room. If that meant spending time alone with the pigheaded man that thought she needed him to keep her safe, then she would suck it up.
Natasha blew out a breath and started rummaging through the kitchen cabinets looking for something to eat and give Barnes time to calm down. She felt Barnes' presence before she heard him. The man moved like smoke. Standing still, she waited for him to join her as breakfast cooked on the stove.
"I'm sorry." James said tightly. "I have a temper."
Natasha glanced at him. He still seemed like a ball of anger and frustration. "You were right. I never should have said that. I know what it's like not to be in control of your actions, your life." She said slowly, tucking a lock of red hair behind her ear.
"Do you?" James asked defeatedly. He didn't like feeling defeated, or being reminded of it. He sat back down at the kitchen table and studied Romanoff intently.
"Yes." She admitted, her voice the softest whisper. Not wanting to get into a discussion about her past with the virtual stranger sitting beside her. But she needed him to know she didn't blame him for anything that had happened in their past. "and like you, I know the pain and guilt of survival."
Natasha put the Glock she'd been concealing under her clothes on the table. James got the message. Whatever else this morning had been about she no longer viewed him as a possible threat. He also had to wonder, looking at her rather tight outfit, how she'd managed to conceal the weapon. James raised an eyebrow at her inquiringly.
Natasha smirked. "That's it. No K-bar or C-4. One shot through the eye, no muss, no fuss. Clean kill."
"Well gee, thanks for not shooting me." James drawled.
Natasha looked straight at him. "I don't shoot innocent people. Not anymore."
Continuing to mess with Barnes wasn't going to do either of them any good, Natasha decided. They were stuck with each other until HYDRA was stopped. She couldn't just kick him out in the cold. HYDRA wanted something from both of them. Keeping Barnes with her where she could keep an eye on him was the smart move. Even if it was uncomfortable.
Deciding she needed to lighten the mood between them, Natasha looked down at James with playfulness dancing in her green eyes. "Ah, the mating dance of covert operatives. It's a wonder we ever get close enough to kill each other, isn't it?"
James made a sound of disgust in the back of his throat. "I don't need to get close to kill you. Something you'd do well to remember. I can be turned into your enemy, Romanoff. Never forget that. if HYDRA uses the right trigger words then tells me to kill you, I will obey." He lectured.
"I'll keep that in mind." She quipped, as she turned back to the stove to keep the breakfast from burning. "But you need to remember, if things go south, you might not be the one to worry about. So let's do both ourselves a favor and not start comparing kill counts."
"I've had decades…" James started bitterly.
"That I didn't need." Natasha cut him off, in a tone that said conversation over.
Natasha didn't need the reminder. She'd spent her entire life in covert ops and she'd gotten to know some pretty bad people. She knew what the risk of having Barnes with her was. She'd work with him, she'd live with him, she might even trust her life with him. But none of that made them friends. It couldn't. Because one day, she might have to end him. Of course, if things didn't go her way Barnes might not be the only one that needed to be ended.
What she couldn't figure out was that Zemo had been taken first, yet Barnes was given the wrong trigger words. Why was HYDRA letting him roam free of their control?
"Did I hurt you?"
Natasha faced James and rolled her eyes. "You shot me twice. Yes, it hurt."
James sighed. "I meant last night."
"just my ego, and my arms, and my chest, and my back, but luckily they're just bruised."
"You said I shot you in the stomach…but I don't remember it. Where?"
"Odessa." Natasha responded, offering nothing more.
Something inside her said that the deeper they got into their past the more it would help HYDRA reach its goal. Whatever that was. HYDRA had already been leaving hints to a past she couldn't remember and it was clear Barnes had blanks in his memories as well. Better that they stick to the present problem and leave the past where it belonged. Forgotten.
Natasha set a plate of pancakes down in front of James. "Eat."
As James started eating Natasha briefly and succinctly recited to him what she could remember about her mission in Syria, and her recent missions in Columbia and Panama. She also told him her theory that HYDRA didn't want her dead, but rather wanted something else entirely from both of them.
James listened with growing anger, irritation, and even surprise, at all that Natasha had withheld. At the same time, it could open new lines of inquiry for them-that was, if she could be relied upon. There were secrets in her eyes that had nothing to do with Damascus, and a hollowness as well. One that moved him because he recognized it. He'd seen it in the reflection of his own mirror. James listened impassively, taking care not to betray any reaction.
Natasha finished her story and fell silent, looking at Barnes, as if expecting a reply. He gave her none. After a long moment, she rose from the kitchen table and went back to the stove. "It appears that we're stuck with each other for a while. We both know you want me to be your bait to get to HYDRA. So this is the deal. You use me, I use you. Because until we know what HYDRA's real endgame is, we're all being used."
James shifted in his chair , that had been his original plan. But last night had changed things, not that he wanted to discuss that with her. "I'd say what you're doing these days is way off the idiocy scale, so I guess you can put up with me." He finally said.
"Meaning?"
For a moment, James considered being evasive and giving Romanoff a taste of her own medicine. Instead, he answered her question. "Meaning I could've backed you up in Syria. Kept HYDRA from doing anything to you when things went south."
"I see" Natasha seemed to ponder something for a moment. "Because you and Zemo on the same continent, much less in the same room, sounds like a brilliant plan to me." Natasha continued, exasperated all over again with the man.
"Point taken." James muttered, before stuffing more pancakes into his mouth. "In other words, you figure me for the bumbling idiot you think most other operatives are." He thought.
"Let's be honest. There's not really any safe way to let yourself be taken hostage by a top-secret organization, trained in every manner of mind control and manipulation and bent on word domination by any means necessary." Natasha continued as if she hadn't even heard Barnes.
James sat back in his seat and looked up at the ceiling, mentally reviewing everything Romanoff had told him. Where earlier she had, perversely, seemed to have little or no interest in sharing with him, she had suddenly become the soul of forthrightness. It was too pat. This sudden about-face, this open and apparently friendly offer of cooperation.
He believed her story, as cockamamie as it sounded. It was just that he was sure there was more she wasn't saying. But that was all right for the moment James decided. He'd spent decades honing his skill at outwaiting an adversary. He could outwait the spy too. Eventually, he'd discover everything she was hiding from him. Hopefully while still being able to keep his own secrets.
"Do you want more?" Natasha asked, indicating the frying pan and pulling James from his thoughts.
James nodded, then took in the scene around him. Romanoff standing at the stove cooking yet more food and talking to him. Not that he was complaining about that. Cause pancakes. But it made him feel uncomfortable. It was normal. Normal was not something James did. Normal was for regular people. It was disquieting.
"This is really good," James said, attacking his fifth stack of pancakes.
"You sound surprised," Natasha replied.
He shrugged. "I just didn't think a spy would be able to cook like this."
"Well, I do get lots of practice with knives. You could say I'm multitasking."
James froze, his fork halfway to his mouth.
"I'm kidding. I enjoy cooking. It relaxes me. Consider it an I'm sorry I tried to slash your throat open last night gift."
A laugh jumped out of James' mouth, surprising him. The short conversation had made him feel slightly more at ease. Without a word, James abruptly got up from the table and left the room. Natasha was a little confused by his behavior but decided not to follow him. A bit of space between the two of them seemed like a good thing.
When James returned he handed Natasha a business card, telling her "You dropped this last night."
Natasha read the card "Dr. Johann Fennhoff MD."
"Who is he?"
"I have no idea, but let's find out. I need to call Fury anyways before the man comes unhinged. He hasn't heard from me in several days and we don't need him sending in the Calvary to rescue me."She couldn't keep Nick in the dark forever, but she didn't relish the upcoming argument with him either.
James stared at her long and hard, as if he were gauging a cloudbank that might be worth the trouble to sail around rather than go through. "I thought you said you didn't want anyone else involved in this."
"He was already involved long before you came along." Seeing Barnes tense stance, she added. "Relax Barnes. He's not going to come in and haul you a way to some secure facility. He already knows you're with me." She spun to leave the kitchen, in search of her secure satellite phone,
"Romanoff." James called after her. When she turned around, he asked, "which is the real you, the cold-blooded spy or the nice guy?"
"Yes." Natasha answered with a deceptively innocent smile. And then she left.