10. Full Of Fear, Ever Clear

He took a deep breath, looking outside at the clouds passing by. It was a comforting sight, and he tried not to think about the ground far below. "Tell me about Steve," he said to Natasha, Natalia?, without turning his gaze toward her.

"What… What about Steve?" she asked.

He wanted to rub his face again, but resisted. She'd looked at him strangely afterward last time and he didn't want to contemplate what she was thinking. "Is he okay?" he asked softly, biting his lip as soon as he said it. It wasn't what he'd intended to ask.

She unfolded her arms, stepped away from the wall she had been leaning against, and sat down on the end of the bed. Less than four feet away. He tensed. "He's fine. I saw him after he left the hospital. They took good care of him," she explained, voice almost soothing. She was leaning forward on her knees to look at him intently.

He clenched his teeth, not wanting to be pacified by her lies. "When did you see him last?" he pressed.

"Maybe a month ago. He was going to come looking for you." She fell silent, clearly waiting for some kind of reaction from him. He gave her none. "Do you want to see him?" she asked finally.

"When I'm done," he repeated calmly, forcing his posture to relax.

"Done with what?" she tried again.

He turned to face her, meeting her eye. "Destroying HYDRA."

"What the hell is he doing with her?" Jones asked quietly, motioning toward the door.

"You got a problem with the boss getting a little tail?" Pacheco teased.

Edwards smacked him on the back of the head as he walked by. "Watch yourself, man. We lost enough men today. I'd hate to lose some more for asking dumb questions. Whatever the boss wants with her, I can guarantee it's none of our business." He sat down at the table closest to the door. "If you're just projecting what you want, Pacheco, rest assured that you can get some of that when we stop in Spain for a little while."

"What's in Spain?" Jones wanted to know.

"We lost some men, we need to get some new ones. It's as good a place as any," Edwards said with a shrug.

"Meaning you don't know," Ramos muttered.

"Now, men, I may have been here the longest, but I don't have all the answers. Sorry to disappoint." He turned to Jones. "Did you enjoy your first mission, kid?"

"I guess so," Jones answered slowly.

"You guess?" Ramos asked him.

"Do you guys know who the Black Widow is?" Some nodded, most shook their heads. "She's not someone I'm too excited about being on the same plane with," Jones explained, glancing surreptitiously toward the door.

"Because she's poisonous to our species?" Edwards joked.

"Because of her history with the boss."

"You're going to take down the whole organization by yourself?" she asked incredulously, eyebrows raised.

He looked at her, a little surprised at how this seemed to distress her. "I'm not by myself," he said after a moment.

She snorted. "Yeah, you have a few grunts. Against legions of highly-trained spies."

"We didn't need spies before," he said quietly.

Her brow furrowed as she frowned at him briefly. Then she shook her head. "You remember the war?" she inquired, keeping her voice down, glancing briefly toward the door.

"Cloak and dagger tactics aren't as effective as full-scale destruction," he responded evasively. She looked away from him, apparently giving up on pursuing what he did and didn't remember. He turned his attention toward the window, watching the clouds slide by and focused on keeping his muscles loose and not clinging to the chair beneath him when the plane moved noticeably.

"Do you trust me?" she asked suddenly, and he jerked his attention back to her.

"Does Steve?" he countered.

"He does now." A smile tugged at her lips as she stared somewhere in space, likely remembering some relevant event.

"Then I'm open to the possibility," he answered, leaning back in his chair, his fingers wrapping tightly around the arm rests as they hit a bit of turbulence. "But I know you won't be able to stop me. Maybe slow me down a little if you put your mind to it," he added, cocking his head at her.

She smirked at him. "Don't underestimate me, Soldier." He could see the fear flicker behind her eyes despite her bravado.

He smiled coldly. "I've read your file, Widow. I know what you're capable of. And what you're not."

Holding his gaze, she folded her arms over her chest, leaning back a little. "I've read yours."

This was news. "Why?" he asked, surprised, wondering what it said. And if she'd given it to Steve.

She looked away, the confident smirk leaving her face. "Steve asked me to get it and I didn't want to let him go running after a hopeless case. He doesn't deserve that." Her eyes met his and he resisted the urge to break her gaze, to stand up, to leave. "Was I wrong?"

He cleared his throat. "The person Steve is looking for fell off a train seventy years ago," he said flatly.

"So did you."

This time he was unable to resist the urge to move from her scrutiny. He surged to his feet and paced briefly across the room, toward the door and back a few times. Reminding himself that he wasn't wearing his mask, he arrested his hand when it reached toward the door. The men were out there. Whatever they were thinking, he wouldn't break protocol by leaving this room until they landed. So he returned to his seat and leaned back, closing his eyes. He could feel her watching him through all of this, but he ignored her. Eventually, he heard her settle back against the pillows and the silence reigned over the cabin.

The floor sloped steeply under his feet and he opened his eyes, hands automatically grasping the edge of the chair tightly to keep from sliding. They were landing; he forced himself to calm down. He remembered that the woman, Natasha, was there and he didn't want anyone to see how distressed this kind of thing made him. He glanced at her, still sitting on the bed, though the force of the descent had caused her to lean forward, hands wrapped around the blankets and eyes focused on the door.

"Where are we?" she asked tentatively, eyes flickering in his direction. Her face was guarded, slack; he couldn't tell what she was thinking.

"In Spain. Unless there was a problem," he answered.

"Why Spain?"

"Recruiting."

She turned to face him. "Why Spain?" she asked again, raising an eyebrow.

"They speak Spanish," he offered.

Snorting, she shook her head, and got to her feet. "A rather significant population of the world speaks Spanish."

He smiled at her exasperation. "Exactly." She glared at him and he relented. "There isn't a HYDRA presence in Spain, and men found here won't have any conflicting loyalties when we go to South America. And can speak Spanish."

She nodded, and seemed about to reply before a knock at the door interrupted her. Automatically, she fell into a defensive stance, then glanced at him. He rose and walked toward the door, picking up and pulling on his mask as he passed her. When he opened the door, he was not surprised to find Edwards standing there, the rest of the men spread across the cabin behind him and carefully not looking in his direction. Edwards was very intently looking at him and not into the room. Behind his mask, he smiled in amusement at their obvious discomfort.

"Sorry, sir, but we've arrived," the man told him.

"Good. We will take off at 0800. Whoever isn't here will be left behind," he ordered. The men smiled at each other and begin to get ready to disembark.

"How many do you think we need, sir?" Edwards asked, unmoved by the disruption behind him.

"Two or three should be sufficient."

"Thank you, sir. Sir," he added, quietly as he started to close the door. "You're going to stay here with her?"

"Which of us are you worried about?" The room fell silent at his amused tone. Edwards shifted uncomfortably. "Move out, men," he said shortly and closed the door, turning back to Natasha. "I'm afraid I can't give you shore leave," he told her.

She smirked. "No? Think I might run?"

"No. But I don't want to risk you calling Steve to come fetch me."

"Is that the only reason you're keeping me around?" she asked, looking meaningfully toward the door.

He crossed over to the chair and sank into it again, without removing his mask. "Steve seems fond of you and I think you'll be in some trouble if you're found without that drive."

"Which you're not going to give me."

"Not yet."

She sighed and leaned against the wall, looking at him intently. "So, what are we going to do until your men get back?"

He pulled his duffel over to him with his foot and bent to take out his laptop. "Find the next target."