Hi everybody! Welcome to the new chapter!
Disclaimer: See Chapter 1
Enjoy!
"I'm not the one who needs to watch their back."
She'd just left. There'd been a (very) short period of time when she'd been contemplating going back to the Avengers base to retrieve her things-the FBI was too busy dealing with the process and containment of the detained Avengers to worry about her-but she eventually decided against it. Better not to risk it, especially since everything she had could be easily replaced. After all, she supposed she was a fugitive just as much as they were. She'd risked everything to help Steve, because there was some small part of her that knew if he was saying there were more psycho assassins out there like the Winter Soldier he had a good reason for it-and the rest of the world probably depended on it. But that didn't matter to the government. It didn't matter to Stark.
So she didn't go to the Base. She just stole a car from Leipzig-a nice Subaru; roomy, with a wide range of radio stations-and drove off. It was late May, the perfect time to do some sightseeing. It had been a long time since she'd been to Europe without being on a mission of some kind. Maybe she could go to Paris-see the Louvre, eat at one of those outdoor cafes, and watch the sunset from the Eiffel Tower. She could forget about everything for just a little while until it all blew over.
So she did. Natasha Romanoff went back to doing what she did best-and dropped off the grid completely.
She was no stranger to being on the run and hiding in plain sight. She knew how to look at the ground and walk fast-but not too fast-so she could stay on the edges of everyone's vision. She could speak two dozen languages fluently. She could completely blend into a busy street; no one noticed her. Not even when the warrants came up for her arrest-and the price on her head got bigger and bigger. She didn't worry about it. They wouldn't find her unless she wanted to be found.
But that didn't mean she was immune to everything else that was happening in the world around her. She picked up the newspaper the next morning, eating a croissant at a tiny patisserie that was nearly deserted at such an early hour, seeing pictures of her friends in handcuffs staring back at her. Apparently Steve and Bucky were still MIA-though the entire world was looking for them. The government officials said that it was only a matter of time before they were taken in and perhaps even arrested. Natasha knew better. She read Tony's remarks on the whole incident: how it had been a mistake and he would personally pay for any outstanding damages caused to the Leipzig/Halle airport. That was nice of him to take the fall, she mused thoughtfully. Though it would certainly keep him out of jail, considering that Team Cap hadn't been the only ones to cause damages.
"More coffee, miss?" her waiter, a clean cut young man with neatly gelled black hair (who looked surprisingly awake) said in perfect French as he brought over a fresh pitcher and a few more packets of sugar.
"No thank you." she replied politely, not looking up from the article.
He followed her eyeline. "It's very sad, isn't it? The world's greatest superheroes reduced to a debacle like this? Perhaps the United Nations has a point-maybe it's safer for us all if the team is more restricted."
She tried not to bristle obviously. The Avengers were still her friends-and they were still her team, even if they didn't realize it at the moment. "Perhaps-but the last thing we want is for them to become partisan. It's sometimes hard to remember they're just people like you and me. When they're saving the world, they seem like gods-but they're people, and people make mistakes."
"Unfortunately, when you hold such great power, mistakes are more costly."
She sighed, shoving the newspaper into her purse and finishing the last of her croissant. Pressing a few coins into the waiter's hand, she stood and turned to leave. "You're right. I have to go. Will this be enough to cover the meal?"
"Do you want a receipt-"
"No, I'm fine. Have a good day, monsieur." She didn't look back and didn't stop walking until the restaurant was no longer in sight-when she could pull the newspaper back out and throw it in the trash.
~A~
For a few days she wandered aimlessly around the city. She bought a small room in a hotel directly in the center of town, surrounded by high rises and old buildings alike, where no one would ask too many questions. She gave a fake name and used a fake credit card-funneling money from Tony's account; she hoped he wouldn't mind, seeing as she couldn't use her own without bringing the entire might of the International Police down on her back. She saw museums, went to a different restaurant every night, watched the couples walking along the Seine with a cool indifference-love wasn't worth it, anyway-and bought a few expensive hats, dresses, and bottles of perfume. It was easy to immerse herself in her own cover and pretend she really was just another European using up her vacation days; in fact, she was surprised how little time it took for the Avengers compound and everyone she knew to become just a faint tickle in the back of her mind-something she thought about, certainly, but something that belonged to a harder past.
At least until they put a price on her head too.
She looked up from her book as an 'important news bulletin' interrupted the nightly broadcast to explain that ex Avenger Natasha Romanoff, who had aided in the escape of fugitives Steven Grant Rogers and James Buchanan Barnes, was also wanted by the United Nations. The news anchors talked with a few members of the international police, who explained that they were 'following up some leads'-which Natasha took to mean they had no ideas at all.
She glanced at the picture of her at the signing of the Sokovia Accords-was that really only two weeks ago? It seemed like so much longer-that was standing in as her Wanted poster for a long minute before she turned back to the door. It was late, but the shops would still be open. She wondered if the bookstore down the street would be open as well; she was going to buy a sketchbook.
~A~
Steve had come back for the others.
Natasha watched with interest as the camera panned through what had once been a cell block, passing over doors wrenched off their hinges or supposedly unbreakable glass walls on the floor in shattered bits of debris. It came to rest on one cell in particular, where a straitjacket lay in two neat pieces and a shock collar had been thrown haphazardly into one corner-still smoking lazily. She paused the television and examined the knife work on the jacket itself: careful, precise, and deliberate. It looked like Clint's work for sure-and the caution he'd taken was evident, hence the neatness of the affair. Wanda had probably still been inside of it and he'd been trying not to cut her. That gave her pause for a minute, thinking about how they'd probably been out of time and out of options but he'd still taken his time making sure their youngest member wouldn't be harmed any more than she already had been. She shook her head ruefully; for the ruthless assassin Clint claimed to be, he still had a hell of a gentle streak.
She could already tell how they'd done it; they'd had someone working on the inside to shut down AV and sound in that cell block (probably Vision, the more she thought about it) and they'd escaped off the roof. A risky move, but ultimately a fruitful one-now they had disappeared without a trace. She wondered where they were now-whether they were plotting their next move or just trying to regroup.
She almost thought about calling them. And maybe she would have, if she hadn't thought they needed to concentrate on finding a safe house or doing whatever they were planning to do now. They weren't Avengers anymore, but that didn't mean they weren't safe.
She almost wished Steve had called her first. She could have gotten into the Raft in half the time with half the effort. But she dismissed that thought almost as soon as it crossed her mind; his phone was probably compromised. It was Stark's tech after all. She just hoped they wouldn't need her. Hopefully Steve and Clint would know what to do from here and be able to take care of everyone else. The others wouldn't last a day on their own otherwise. She knew Sam and Wanda at least; they were great people, but they knew next to nothing about living on the run-where one slip up or mistake could lead to your arrest.
But above all, she hoped that wherever they were they'd be safe. In the end, all that mattered was staying together. She was particularly wary of superhero registration herself; the only reason she'd signed the Accords was because resistance was futile and it was the only way to keep the team together. Of course, Steve was too damn self righteous to follow along and the rest of his team was too loyal to leave him. And here they were-they sure as hell weren't a team anymore. Maybe they never would be.
The thought that they were safe and together was a small comfort at least.
~A~
After two weeks she checked out of the hotel and rented a small flat nearby. It wasn't much-just a living room with attached kitchenette and a bedroom with an attached bathroom-but it was anonymous enough. She hardly ever went in it, anyways; she spent her days roaming the city streets, drawing in green parks or visiting tourist attractions while dodging the tourists. They were easy to spot; always carrying cameras and snapping pictures of everything in sight-including her, if she wasn't careful. Not that she thought anyone knew her well enough to recognize her just from a blurry face in a photograph, but you could never be too careful. When there was ten thousand dollars in reward money on the line, people could behave in all kinds of unexpected ways.
She still watched the news nightly-not just to make sure her cover remained intact but because she liked to be up to date on everyone else. For the first few weeks, all they would talk about was Steve's escape plot-how unexpected it had been and how, despite the best efforts of Interpol, the team remained hidden. Tony and T'Challa gave statement after statement and donation upon donation, trying to appease the governments of the world-it didn't take very long considering they were both rich and charismatic with a head for public speaking.
Slowly, the world began to go back to normal. The Avengers were in fewer and fewer news stories until they were barely there at all. Whatever Steve and Clint were doing seemed to be working-and working well.
Then Vision vanished off the face of the planet.
It was all anyone could talk about for at least a week-the team's most powerful member was taking a leave of absence for unexplained reasons. The whole affair had been quiet and secretive; Tony would barely give out any details and those he did disclose were vague at best. The government seemed to equate it to losing a nuclear weapon; Natasha could have laughed in their faces, because Vision was the least likely thing to ever go off without cause. He was the perfect vessel of harmony and tranquility, which made his departure all the more surprising-and a little worrying-in the eyes of the populace. But not to Natasha, who had known him for an entire year.
In fact, she didn't think he'd really needed that time to 'clear his head', or whatever bullshit Tony was feeding the reporters. She had a very different reason in mind: she thought that the android had finally realized he was in love with Wanda Maximoff and had left everything behind to go be with her like some poor sap in the romantic novels she always saw in the checkout line at the grocery store. The Red Room had trained her to be attuned to people's emotions but she could have figured it out anyway-he always found excuses to spend time with her, they stayed up late talking most nights over cups of hot chocolate (Natasha wasn't the easiest sleeper and she'd grown accustomed to seeing warm light spill out from under the kitchen door when she went to go watch television), and he was forever interrupting missions to go check up on her-even though everyone on the team knew Wanda was more than capable of protecting herself. And she was proud of him for it...even though it was still kind of strange, given that he was completely synthetic.
She hoped Clint remembered to give him the 'hurt her and I'll murder you' speech now that Pietro wasn't around. She would have helped him; in a way, Wanda was kind of like the younger sister she'd never had-when she'd first arrived at the compound Natasha had been the one who got her up at 5:30 for early training sessions, forced her to keep going when all she wanted to do was stop, and showed her where the team kept the good vodka. Considering what had happened with Bruce...yeah, if Vision broke her heart Natasha would murder him, infinity stone be damned.
Of course, there were rumors that he'd defected to Team Cap, but they couldn't be proved and they soon died out. Vision and Scarlet Witch's names were certainly never used in conjunction with each other-or even in the same paragraph-most of the time; Natasha suspected if she were to leave an 'anonymous tip' it would be all over the tabloids within days. A robot/human love story seemed just the kind of thing hopeless romantics would love to eat up.
~A~
Clint tried to contact her a couple of times through channels that only he and she would know, asking her how she'd been and where she was. She answered him as sparingly as possible; only one or two words each time. She didn't like it, but it was for the best-she still didn't know who was watching her or how easily she could be tracked. Best to keep him-all of them-out of her affairs.
That didn't mean she didn't still miss them. Sometimes she would find herself lying awake at odd hours of the night, missing the way Steve's eyes crinkled at the corners when she was able to make him laugh, how she was able to tell Clint anything, Sam and Rhodey's constant competition, Wanda's touch of innocence even after years of what was tantamount to torture, even Tony's dumb jokes. She'd always assumed that one day the team would fall apart and when that day happened she'd revert back to her old lifestyle with no problems and no transitions.
She didn't realize how much she'd grown to care about them without even realizing it.
That was May and most of June.
~A~
Bruce found her on a hot day in the very last week of June. When he did, she wasn't sure whether she should kiss him, kill him, or flat out walk away.
It was an extremely hot day-hands down one of the hottest in the season-and she was reading a crime thriller on a park bench beside a beautiful fountain, moving around as necessary to ensure she was always sitting in the shade. She'd chanced to let her guard down; the plaza was almost deserted because of the heat and the few people who were there were mostly dog walkers or mothers with small children-in general, people who were too preoccupied by other things to worry about a woman who may or may not be a rogue Avenger.
"Natasha."
At first she thought she was hallucinating and considered going back inside for some water-until she looked up and he took a seat on the wooden bench next to her. He looked healthy-a little gaunt, perhaps, with new stubble around his mouth and unkempt hair but nearly exactly the way he'd been the last time she'd seen him back in Sokovia when he'd asked her if she wanted to run away with him. He wore a simple shirt and pants, lightweight in the summer heat. "Bruce?" The idea that he was here, in Paris, was so unbelievable she was convinced he wasn't real. He'd gone into stealth mode; she'd taken that to mean she'd never see him again.
He nodded, glancing at her almost nervously as though worried about how she would react. To be honest, she was too. "Guilty as charged."
"I thought you were in Fiji."
He laughed. "I was, for a while-but I just can't seem to get a tan. Must be something to do with the Other Guy."
"Why are you here?"
"When I heard you'd disappeared after Leipzig...I kind of figured you might go here. It's taken me a couple of weeks to find you-I'm sure the hotel owner thinks I'm a madman, leaving at first light and staggering in hours after the sun goes down, and I've nearly depleted my resources but...I knew that if you were looking for a place to hide, where's better than hiding in plain sight?"
"Like finding a needle in a haystack."
"Exactly." He still looked worried she would straight up murder him . "So...how've you been?"
She shrugged. "Paris is nice this time of year." Her tone was deceptively indifferent; she'd decided she wasn't going to kill him but that didn't mean she needed to pretend like he hadn't left her just when they'd been coming to terms with their feelings about each other.
He sighed. "Look Natasha, I'm sorry. I know I've been a dick and I regret not talking to you for all of this time...but I don't regret what I did. When you...can do what I can do, it's hard to start a stable relationship. I wasn't scared of what I was feeling...but I was scared of hurting you."
"You shouldn't. I can take care of myself."
"Yes, I know...but what if one day something went wrong or I changed at an inopportune moment? If something happened to you because of me, I'd never be able to forgive myself."
"You could have called."
"I know. Like I said, I was a dick, and I'm extremely sorry." He shrugged sadly. "Maybe you can forgive me, maybe you can't...but I heard about what happened in Leipzig. Nasty stuff. It almost makes me wish I would've been there."
She laughed mirthlessly. "Yes, because a Hulk running around isn't absolutely the last thing we needed in that situation. Did you hear about what Scott Lang did? He started growing instead of shrinking. In a way, it kind of reminded me of you-just less angry." She didn't say anything about the ideology behind it and how there was a good chance they wouldn't even have been on the same side anyway. "Besides, I guess the government has better things to do than look for you."
"Yeah, because they're too busy looking for everyone else. Do you know where Steve is?"
"No. I've talked with Clint a couple of times but I'm trying to give them space for the time being. Three of them have never been on the run before."
"That's got to come as a shock."
"I'm sure Steve has it under control. Do you think Vision is with them?"
"I can't see where else he'd go. He's never really struck me as the kind to enjoy lounging around on a beach in Hawaii with a cocktail in one hand and a paperback in the other."
"I don't think he even drinks cocktails." Or anything else, for that matter.
Finally Bruce's smile faded and he pulled a laptop out of his beat up leather briefcase; he flipped it up and began to type, letting his eyes circle the courtyard to make sure they still weren't being watched. "Finding you today wasn't really a coincidence."
"I didn't think so. What happened?"
"Stark taught me some rudimentary hacking skills when we were staying at the tower after the Battle of New York. I never thought they'd come in handy, but I've been using them to monitor the government this past year and make sure nobody finds me. It involves breaking through a few private channels, but nothing too illegal. Anyway, something very interesting popped up on their radar last night." He shifted the screen so she could see a picture of an elderly couple with white hair and sunglasses, looking utterly relaxed as they sat by a poolside table. "This is Dr. Jake Adams and his wife, Eliza. They moved to Florida to retire back in January; they lived in upstate New York for over thirty five years-and they've made the acquaintance of one Sharon Carter." Natasha's stomach dropped. "They've been renting out the house to their oldest son, Ellis, this summer. That is, they thought they were. Apparently, Ellis took a job in South Africa instead-but he forgot to tell his parents up until a few days ago. And yet, utilities like electricity and hot water are still being used in the Adams' old cabin."
"And you think Steve is holed up there?"
"I don't know. The government thinks so-they're thinking about sending a squad up to investigate."
"That doesn't necessarily mean anything. There are lots of fugitives out there, not just the Avengers. It could be just some runaway kids." Not that she believed that. If Dr. Adams knew Sharon Carter-who was extremely close to Captain America-then there was little to no chance the Avengers weren't involved.
"Either way, they're going to check it out. I thought you might want to warn them."
She was already planning. "I'm heading over there."
She could tell he hadn't been expecting her to say that. "What?"
"If the government really is monitoring that house and Steve and the others don't know about it yet, even the usual methods of communication aren't going to be safe. I have to go warn them in person." Secretly, she didn't mind. It had been too long since she'd seen them, anyway. This was just giving her an excuse to go back-it wasn't just her own hopes and expectations; it was more like she didn't have a choice. If they didn't know what was coming, they were going to get arrested.
She kept seeing that straitjacket, cut apart neatly.
Bruce fell in step neatly beside her. "Are you heading to the airport right now?"
"Well, no. First I need to buy tickets and pick some things up at the flat-but yes, that would be the general idea." She didn't have any time to waste; she strode along, not particularly caring whether or not he kept pace beside her. He did.
They walked in silence to her flat, where she immediately grabbed a backpack and shoved in what she could fit-a few outfits, a couple of books, her sketchpad, and her toiletries. She didn't bother bringing a suitcase-not only would she be able to waste a lot less time at the baggage claim once she reached the Syracuse airport but she didn't think she'd really need it anyway-the team would be on the run again, after all. Bruce just watched in calm silence, leaning against the wall beside the door and being sure he stayed out of the way. "Something tells me this isn't the first time you've done this."
She smirked. "When you're an assassin, you make a lot of enemies. I'm used to it-maybe even more comfortable with it than I was living in the base with the others." When you were on the run, everything was self preservation: you lived for yourself, looked after yourself, and if you got killed or captured that was your fault too. She wasn't used to feeling like she needed to look after people-or have people feel like they needed to look after her.
He nodded. "Me too." There was a long, awkward silence-and then Natasha pulled out her phone and called the airport, asking around for the nearest flight to New York. She had to talk to a few different people before she found a flight that left at four in the afternoon-still a full three and a half hours away. She couldn't help grimacing as she slung her bag over her shoulder, leaving the rest of the flat abandoned. Hopefully she'd be able to come back for it before too long; God knew it wasn't big enough to host seven other people, or she would have suggested they come back to Paris.
"So," Bruce continued as they walked down a small paved street tucked in between patisseries and clothing boutiques, "considering we have a little bit of time to kill, do you want to get some coffee?" She almost said no-but she had nothing better to do so she finally found herself shrugging and stopping at the nearest sidewalk cafe.
"You can order." she said, pulling out her cell phone and checking for the millionth time for any new messages from Tony-mostly to give her something to do. There weren't any, as per usual. "You know what I like." He nodded and went to place their orders, returning five minutes later with a cup of black and bitter coffee for himself and a chai latte for her.
"Two pumps, extra whipped cream." he said, sliding it across the table towards her. She accepted it gratefully and took a scalding sip, ignoring the way it seemed to burn the roof of her mouth.
They sat in silence for a while, each person drinking their own drink, until it became nearly unbearable.
"So, where do you go from here?" Natasha asked quietly. She didn't ask him to come with her-and she certainly didn't offer to buy him tickets.
He shrugged. "I don't know-all over, I guess. Maybe I'll go back to Calcutta again; they don't ask many questions. They just need a doctor so desperately it doesn't matter if he has a terrible temper as long as he can prescribe them medication."
"Sounds like a perfect place for you." She knew that, above all, Bruce liked to feel useful-as if by helping people he made up for all the destruction he inevitably caused when he was in his...altered state. "I'm sure you'll be able to save a lot of lives."
He nodded, dragging his spoon through his coffee as if locked in quiet contemplation. "You know, if you wanted to...after this all blows over, of course...my offer still stands. If you wanted to...well, it's not like the world has any place for Avengers anymore."
For a minute she was tempted. She wondered, if she just agreed, could she fix their relationship? Could they go back to how they had been before-when they were tentative and hopeful? Could they put it all aside and start something new, even with who they were and what they'd done constantly weighing on their consciences?
Could she forget how he'd hurt her by throwing it all away?
No, she couldn't. That wasn't her. That had never been her. She could move on, certainly-she could push the feelings of hurt aside and lock them away where she would never have to see them again, but she could never really forget and it would take a long time for her to forgive. She'd never expected to give her heart away, but she had-just a bit, but enough so that it hurt when he threw it back. "I'm sorry, Bruce. I can't. Not right now, at least."
He nodded; he probably hadn't expected anything less. "I know it doesn't mean anything, but...I am really sorry. And I love you, Natasha. This was never about that, you know. It has everything to do with me and nothing to do with you. But I made a mistake-a really bad one. And I know that I probably can't make up for it. Still, I wanted to try." He crumpled his empty coffee cup into a ball in his fist and threw it in the trash can nearby. "I can leave now. You'll never have to see me again, if you don't want to. I owe you that much at least-much more than that, if I'm being honest."
"No. You don't need to do that either. Don't run away again. If you want things to work-and you're really serious about this-I think we need to start over. And for that to happen, we need to stop running. We both do. Maybe we can still call each other? Why don't we start as friends and see where it goes from there?"
He smiled that smile she'd grown so accustomed to seeing-and she felt it like a stab in the ribs as she realized anew just what they could have had.
Maybe someday, when everything had settled down a bit, they still could. Maybe she'd never know-but then again, maybe they could try again.
"Yeah. That sounds good." They made doubly sure that they had each other's phone numbers and then Natasha decided it was high time she went to the airport. Bruce hailed a cab and drove her there, spending the whole time talking about things he'd seen during his impromptu travels over the past year-most kept her in stitches. She wondered what anyone who could see them would think-would they think that she and him were just a normal couple? What would they think if they knew the duo was anything but?
When they reached the airport he saw her as far as the front door. "Have a safe flight, Natasha."
"Thanks. Safe travels, Bruce-wherever it is you're headed." For a minute he looked at her almost hesitantly, so she hugged him tightly before she stepped back and slung her backpack over one shoulder. With that, she walked into the airport and directly up to the ticketing deck. Only when her boarding pass was in her hands did she look back, before she headed to security and customs (she was using a fake ID, as always).
Bruce was still standing there, a smile on his face. When he noticed her looking, he gave a small wave. As she went up the stairs that led to customs, she waved back-not daring to hope, not yet. But maybe she would, when there was a quieter moment and her thoughts weren't going in a million different directions.
But her love life could wait. Right now she had a mission to complete.
~A~
To Steve's credit, he barely even looked surprised when she showed up on his doorstep at four in the morning with the worst case of jet lag she'd ever had in her life and told him to start packing right away. He didn't question her, he didn't doubt her story, and he didn't criticize her for siding with Tony; he just nodded, gave her a smile, said "It's good to see you again, Nat." and went inside to wake the others.
It's good to see you too.
~A~
It had been three days and Natasha already missed Paris.
They were all out of safe houses, running from the government, and in constant danger from anyone and everyone so they'd done the only thing they could think of-they'd found an abandoned subway platform (Natasha had no idea how Bucky knew about it and suspected she'd like to remain that way) and set up camp there. She sincerely hoped it was temporary: the air always smelled vaguely of rat, the ground was hard, and everything was dirty. Scott swore up and down a rat as big as his forearm had ran across his face the night before. In any case, he'd woken everyone up from screaming profanities.
And it was hot. Being underground they didn't really get much fresh air as it was-but the platform was stifling; it felt like they were in a sauna all the time. And it wasn't like they could go outside for anything except to get food-and that job only fell to one or two people who wouldn't be recognized on site. The rest spent their days on the platform, languishing in the unholy heat.
Natasha looked up from the book she was reading as Sam returned with a pizza and a big grin from being outside. Sam, Natasha, and Clint were the primary food gatherers for the group: Scott couldn't lie to save his life, Bucky was a wanted terrorist, Steve was too famous (especially among teenage girls), Wanda's american accent was still shit, and Vision was red. "Food's here!"
"Good-I'm starved." Scott was watching something on his phone (probably Downton Abbey; Clint had helped him download the rest of the series onto his phone on the drive home; they'd ditched everything unnecessary in the bushes a couple of miles outside the city. They lived out of their backpacks-except for Wanda, who had refused to get rid of her guitar. Natasha had tried to reason with her but she wouldn't be swayed; apparently it had sentimental value and she wasn't getting rid of it a second time. Natasha had been about ready to throw the stupid thing in the river herself because how the hell were they going to manage a guitar when they were constantly in motion but Steve had allowed Wanda to bring it along and Steve was still the team leader. Sam had told her the story later of how Vision had showed up on the doorstep back in early June with the guitar in hand looking like someone out of a cheesy romance flick and nothing more had been said about the instrument after that. Though now that they had it, she was (almost) glad; it provided them with live music to dispel the boredom.
She had absolutely been right; Vision and Wanda spent nearly all of their time together. Sometimes they played chess (she didn't know how Vision had found a chess set, never mind how he had snuck it out of the car, but there it was) and other times they just stayed in their corner and talked for hours without ever running out of things to talk about. Sometimes at night they would even take turns reading to each other whatever book Wanda had picked out for the night; Natasha tried not to look when they did that. It felt like she was intruding on a private moment; the two deserved what little privacy they could get, even though it was basically a thing of the past. At the moment they were talking, though Wanda stood up to get pizza.
Clint was on watch-more by his choice than because of any real need for a guard. Natasha suspected it helped him to think through things-especially when he missed his family. Cell service was spotty at best; sometimes he and Scott weren't able to call home at all. Sometimes they talked; more than anyone else in the group, she'd known him the longest and he was the person she trusted most. But he was different too; he was quieter, more thoughtful. She knew he thought of himself as the protector of the group, maybe even more than Steve did. She also noticed the way he looked at Wanda every now and then, as if trying to reassure himself that she was still okay-and she couldn't help wondering if he'd ever looked at her that way, back when she was her age. She'd just broken free from the Red Room, much like their youngest teammate (Vision didn't count because he wasn't technically a person), and she had also been trying to learn how to be normal. Clint had been invaluable-and even now, he seemed to have developed a habit of picking up strays; Natasha would be willing to bet good money that any protectiveness he felt for Wanda went far deeper than a debt he owed her brother.
Bucky had had the good sense to bring some sheets from the cabin-he'd probably known something like this was going to happen, the more she thought about it-so they didn't have to sleep on the damp and mildewed floor. He was perhaps the quietest of everyone there; he was on watch when Clint wasn't (apart from Vision, who took nights for obvious reasons) and he never talked to her. Not that she minded; she never talked to him. What were they supposed to talk about-how he'd almost killed her at least twice?
That conversation would die really fast.
Sam was still Sam-maybe he laughed a little less and his eyes looked a little warier, but he was mostly the same happy guy he'd always been. She honestly didn't know what they'd do without him-he kept everyone smiling and laughing and he could cheer anyone up, even after the worst nightmares. Everyone had them; nightly, Natasha was woken up by someone crying out in their sleep-and not because of a rat. Some were worse than others; they'd long since vowed not to judge each other. There was a strict don't-ask policy on the team; if people wanted to, they would volunteer information. Otherwise, there was no reason to ask about the contents of said nightmares.
She hadn't had any yet, but she figured it was just a matter of time. She just hoped that when she did have one she'd be able to successfully lock it down before it could wake up anyone else.
And then there was Steve. His smiles always looked sad and his eyes seemed permanently veiled, as though all those days of worrying about everybody were beginning to take their toll. It almost made her feel guilty about coming back, even though the rest of the team had been nothing but friendly to her and Steve constantly made her feel welcome: five people was bad enough, but then Vision had come and now here she was-with the others against her better judgment. And yet he never complained; instead, he devoted his every waking minute to making sure everyone was as happy as they could be given the circumstances. In fact, Natasha thought the only time he truly seemed at peace was when he was drawing in the evenings. He drew everything-Sam and Scott trading high school stories, Bucky staring out at the empty tracks a subway train would never run down again, Clint helping Wanda play through a particularly difficult piece on the guitar. Sometimes Natasha watched him draw, sitting next to him as his pencil gently brushed across the paper and left a small line of charcoal in its wake, creating pictures that seemed to spring to life off the page-or immortalize a moment with pen and ink..
In spite of everything they were still managing to hang on.
"Natasha, aren't you hungry?" Steve asked, sitting down next to her with a piece of pepperoni pizza dripping with grease.
She grinned and set her book aside, hoping there would still be pizza left. It was kind of a free for all when it came to food-though she didn't really care; the heat made it hard for her to be hungry anyway. "Yeah, sorry. I just lost track of time."
"That's easy to do down here. I'm trying to find ways we can get the others outside-they're going to get stir crazy if they're down here too long. I don't know about Bucky; he's still so well known-and there's nothing I can do for Vision short of making him wear a paper bag over his head. But if Scott gets a shave and Wanda cuts her hair…"
"It could work. No one really knows Scott that well; we wouldn't have to do much. In a city like this, no one's looking too closely." She noticed how he didn't say anything about himself.
"You'd need to help Wanda learn how to disguise that accent of hers-she's good at blending in, but when she starts talking, it's over."
"Hmm." She considered the problem for a second. "Maybe if we teach her basic sign language; if anyone asks she can pretend she's deaf. We could try getting her some colored contacts. People see what they want to see anyway; if she can give the illusion of being American, I doubt many people would call her out on it."
Steve nodded, moving his hand (the one without pizza) so it rested on her knee. "And what about you, Nat? Doing okay?"
"Of course. What can I say? I'm home." Home was where her family was; if the (majority) of her family was hiding in an underground subway station from Interpol, then she was too.
"Steve, I think I just saw that rat from last night!" Scott said, looking like he would have jumped onto a chair if there'd been one in reach. "It's bigger than my forearm, actually." Wanda was on her feet instantly, looking repulsed.
Natasha sighed. "You'd better go see what he wants before he gets everyone else worked up."
Steve nodded. "Never a dull moment, is there?"
"Nope."
As he turned to leave, her phone rang with a text from Bruce. All okay? She'd given him a brief description of their decidedly miserable surroundings the day before.
Her finger hovered over the send button a moment, looking around at the team. Everyone had things to work through, sure; but they had enough food and resources, they had company, and they hadn't gotten caught yet. By all accounts, they were in a pretty good place.
Things could definitely be worse.
She pushed the button. All okay.
So, you know how some authors say that characters decide what they're going to do for themselves? Well, that's pretty much what happened here. I wasn't going to put Bruce into the story...but somehow he just showed up. So there you go.
Spider Man will be in the next chapter. I know I don't typically 'tease' chapters, but I know it's been a little while since we've checked in with Peter.
I think those are all the announcements for this chapter. Review, follow, and favorite! Thanks for reading!
