Disclaimer: I do not own any of the films in the MCU, nor do I own any of the comics. This is simply a work of fiction and is not meant for any monetary gain or to infringe on any copyright laws

Rating: T for violence and minor language

Author's Note: Sorry for the late update! And thanks to you awesome reviewers whose support is very appreciated!

Chapter 11

He remembered things between his dreams. It's like he was asleep but he knew what had been happening around him. He remembered Bruce cleaning his wounds; he remembered Tony spouting nonsense; he could hear Sam play modern music off of his iPod; Clint would shift quietly in the corner sometimes.

He mostly remembered Natasha. She was there when the others weren't, and when the others were there she wasn't. It was like a game of cat and mouse. Steve didn't know why she had never visited with the others. At this point he didn't care much, either. He was just glad she visited.

The soldier cared that she could take away his pain for a while. Help him sleep without nightmares. Where his nightmares used to end with cold and falling they know were filled with burning and a heated desire to get away. He never could. Fire raining down from the sky on him, felling him no matter how fast he ran. Chained to a wooden stake that should have been easy to break while fire crept up around him until he burned. An explosion whose wake he didn't escape.

But Natasha's fingers were cool against his skin. She ran them through his hair and traced his face and her touch was so cool he never wanted her to leave. Did she know what she was sentencing him to when she slipped away?

It's like he had been stuck in a war he himself could not fight. It was a war to be fought by others, though only one soldier was truly trained. And even she had been hesitant to fight. He could feel that in her, in her trembling fingers and whispers of breath as she came close only to retreat again. Steve knew she was hesitant because she was trained to follow, not lead, and their leader was down. He needed her to step up in order to help him.

One night when she was sitting with his head in her lap and she was running her hands through his hair he blinked his eyes open. Just a little, and everything was blurry. When she noticed he was awake she paused her actions and looked into those clear blue eyes with her own ones.

"Steve?" she whispered, his name sounding both raspy and beautiful. It was like she hadn't talked to anyone since he'd been injured. He wouldn't be surprised if the hunch turned out to be true.

The soldier didn't say anything, couldn't say anything. He just watched her with his eyes, burning the image of her beauty into his mind. It was a brief respite from the dreams, and he planned to fill her with it.

The spy took his response differently. She continued the path her fingers were making in his blond hair slowly as she spoke. "Is this okay? Do you want me to stop?"

He saw hurt in her eyes, hurt that would surface if he said no. He didn't want to say no, but he felt that saying yes would hurt her too. There was no way around hurting his only good soldier.

The weariness settled in his mind and his eyes closed slowly. Natasha took his silence as a yes, and she continued her vigil. When the soldier slipped all the way into unconsciousness, the fire didn't burn him. And his best soldier was fighting at his side, protecting him, keeping him safe in her warm and strong arms. She looked like an angel in a battle against demons, and her eyes were like a cool ocean that quenched the burning flames he had been consumed by.

As long as she was with him he could sleep peacefully.

Natasha's eyes stung as soon as the soldier closed his eyes. His breathing regulated and she knew he had slipped deeper than a regular sleep. She didn't want to stay anymore. The pain was too great. But she had to stay for Steve. She would stay for him.

Part of her had wanted the soldier to tell her he wasn't okay with her being there. She wanted him to yell at her, to get mad at her. It's what she deserved for leaving him behind. Even if he didn't yell, if he just softly said he wanted her to go away, that would be better for her too. Instead he'd slipped back asleep without answering.

His eyes had screamed "yes" at her, and that's what hurt her the most. After all she'd done he still wanted her there. She didn't deserve it. And who was to say he didn't want her there but his morals and constant good friendliness had once again stood in between his wants and the team's needs?

Did he even know what he wanted anymore? Natasha had been fairly certain she'd seen want in his eyes. She knew some part of him wanted her. The question was whether that part was greater than Captain America or was to be left dormant under duty and selflessness. Natasha didn't struggle for a balance like that in her life. If she wanted something she would either take it because she wanted it or shoved it away because she didn't want to hurt someone. She was selfish, and it was ingrained in every part of her. That's why she left Steve to fight those men while they ran. She valued her life more than his.

Some of the tears dripped out of her eyes. They didn't lazily roll down her cheek like other people's did. Hers dripped right out of her eyes and onto Steve's sleeping face. They glistened on his skin for a moment before rolling off. Natasha watched them, not sure what to do. She hadn't cried very often before meeting Steve, and now when he was around she seemed to cry a lot. It was most likely because his moral senses brought out the good in her and showed her the fine line between the wrong she did. The spy had way too much on the other side. She saw the blackness of her soul against his pure white one and it upset her. To a point she was actually jealous that he stood so strong in what he believed in.

Natasha leaned over and rested her forehead on his. She squeezed her eyes shut as tightly as she could, fighting the damning memories that flooded her mind. It wouldn't do her any good to self-punish herself more, since she knew Steve forgave her. No, he didn't forgive her; he didn't even blame her in the first place. She knew she had ripped open the wound herself. It wasn't that she didn't believe in him; it was the only way she knew how to be.

"Teach me other ways to be, Steve. Please. Teach me how to love like you do, how to stand firm in my beliefs. Help me learn to be a better person."

She whispered the words against the edge of his forehead where her lips where. Natasha was well aware that Steve didn't deserve her. He deserved someone better. A woman like Peggy Carter, or that agent that used to live next door to him. Sharon, her name was. Those were women who deserved a man like Steve. So why did he choose Natasha?

She didn't know. This was Black Widow, the smartest and most clever spy, talented and trained beyond imagination. She knew almost everything and what she didn't know she could learn. She could read people and know their strengths and weaknesses and how to break them. How to please them. She could do anything and know anything with everyone except Steve.

Natasha didn't think she could ever know what went on in his mind behind those beautiful blue eyes.

Bruce shoved the plate of food away. He was sitting by Steve's bed, checking his vitals and replacing bandages. The soldier had a high fever that Banner had tried everything for. Nothing he knew medically was helping. Nothing was lowering the heat inside of him. It was almost like it came from Steve's mind, not body. And the only way to heal it would be to heal Steve emotionally.

Banner didn't believe in things like that. He believed in science and medicine. He believed in sound theories and hard facts. He'd try anything as long as it was plausible by scientific rules. Once you stepped out of the reaches of science, he pulled back. It wasn't a comfort zone of his. Not by a long shot. It was more of a "No Trespassing" zone (which was ironic since his gamma ray experiments had left parts of him that defied laws and physics).

That's why the scientist felt so perplexed. Every morning when he came Steve's fever was down. Sometimes it was almost nonexistent. As time went by, though, the fever rose and became dangerously high. Then Bruce would be forced to sleep or tap away at his pad and hope that Steve would hold out until morning. Then in the morning it was fine.

The scientist had never seen anything like it. He wondered if something was happening at night that was healing Steve, lowering his temperature. He tried to get JARVIS to tell him what happened at night but Steve had previously blocked any information as to whatwent on, so Banner was at a loss. He had conferred with Tony and the billionaire said he could override Steve's information block if he had to. The scientist had put down the offer, because no matter how tempting it was he respected the soldier's privacy. Now he was back at square one.

Tony saw the plate of untouched food and the tablet sprawled out on the bed. Banner rubbed his eyes and watched the inventor blearily.

"We're going to have to put down somewhere I can work," Banner said. "I can't help Steve with what we have here. It's not enough."

"Time is running out. AIM could be planning or acting out their domination plans under our noses. Before we know it we could all be dead." Tony was uncharacteristically serious. Banner knew the man well enough to know he had reached his limit. Usually the worse things became the more lame jokes he cracked. Tony had gone past that point into blatant seriousness and that scared Bruce. It terrified him.

"I don't need a lot of time. Just some." The scientist made eye contact. "We can't take down AIM without Steve, especially since Thor isn't here, either. You and I both know that."

Tony glanced at the sleeping soldier. Sweat coated his face and dampened his sheets. "I'll stop at the Tower for a few days. A week, tops." He sighed and turned his gaze toward Rogers. "At least you won't have to worry about being a Capsicle again."

Banner threw his glasses onto the bed by the tablet. A tired gleam came to his eyes. Tony had sparked something. "There is one thing we can try before we go all the way to the Stark Tower. It's a long shot, especially by my standards, but it's possible. What if his dreams are triggering the reactions? Nothing I do to his body will lower the heat. What if there's a trigger in his mind? Like when he used to have nightmares about his time in the ice he'd wake up freezing. So what if he's unsettled about the grenade and the heat? We'd just need to help him get over the nightmares. He would need to wake up, though."

Tony glanced at the man, disbelief on his face. "That is farfetched for you, Smasher. How do we wake Capnade up?" Tony was back to nicknames. It was a subtle hint that there was hope in him now. Bruce caught himself from smiling.

"Capnade? I wouldn't call him that. Capsicle is one thing…it's your face, I guess."

"He won't blow up in my face. Although he might, considering his new nickname." Tony kept a straight face despite the pun. Bruce sighed. "How do we wake up a super soldier?"

Tony rubbed his hands together in excitement. "You do not realize how long I have wanted to try this."

Tony's methods were not very nice. Then again, they were Tony's and while they were rough on the outside they had a good intention. Banner suspected the billionaire had been waiting for the pristine opportunity to begin "Super Soldier Wake-Up 101". (The scientist had no idea where Tony had collected all the items he'd used in his experiment either, considering they were on a jet in the middle of nowhere)

There was a bucket full of ice water dumped right on Steve. He didn't even flinch.

The loud metallic clang of symbols in the man's ear loud enough to maybe do some damage. Steve didn't miss a breath.

Little popping fireworks thrown on him (Banner protested after a couple due to the scorch marks on Steve's skin).

Tony jumped—with his Iron Man suit on—on Steve. The soldier just rolled over even when the bed creaked and threatened to break.

Feather ticklers. Steve wasn't ticklish at all, to Tony's chagrin.

The list went on and on. Tony spent hours trying every method he could think of to wake Steve.

Nothing worked, so Banner finally stopped him.

"You can't wake him."

Tony plopped down on the bed (without his suit on), giving up. "Okay, he's a deep sleeper. Though I should have known, considering he slept for seventy years. Who knew old men could sleep so much?"

"Let's talk to the others," Banner suggested. The two went into the kitchen where Sam and Clint were talking quietly. The two men had bonded well over the journey, and that was saying a lot for Clint. Tony couldn't blame the archer; Sam was a pretty likable guy, cool and funny, well-educated but with a seriousness that comes from the pain of watching your partner die in combat.

Tony told them all about his tries to get Steve up. Both men were amused, putting in comments like, "I was wondering what that was" or "So that's why I thought we were under attack!"

"So how do we wake him?" Clint leaned back, a cup of coffee cradled in his hands. "If you didn't succeed then I sure don't have an idea that would work."

Sience reigned for a minute before Sam spoke. "There is Natasha," he said. "We haven't seen her in a while. She's gone into self-induced solitary confinement."

Clint nodded. "If any of us has a chance at waking Steve up it's her. She's the closest out of all of us to him."

He seemed a little hurt. Banner knew why. What Clint and Natasha used to have wasn't exactly the most uncommon of knowledge on the SHIELD helicarrier, especially with so little gossip around. Ever since the Chitauri attack in New York, Clint and Natasha had slowly been assigned fewer missions together. Fury had replaced the archer with Steve. Months and years of working together had brought Natasha and Steve close until he had taken Clint's old place. And ever since SHIELD had been compromised the two had become almost inseparable. That could get to a man, especially since Clint was the only reason the spy was still alive.

"I'll convince her," Stark volunteered.

"You'll just piss her off," Clint countered.

"That's why I'm the best hope we have." Tony seemed way too proud in his ability to make people upset. Then again, it was Tony. And a second later he seemed to have second thoughts.

"If, by chance, I don't make it back…divvy up everything between you guys and Pepper. She gets twelve percent-an argument can be made for fifteen-and you can split the other eighty-eight percent. Did you get that, JARVIS?"

"Yes, sir. Though your chances of making it back alive would be greater if you didn't upset Miss Romanoff."

"You're supposed to tell me useful crap," Tony muttered to the A1 as he stepped out of the kitchen and into the hall, walking towards the spy's door.

Tony knocked on the door, feeling high and a little afraid at the same time. No one had any idea of what shape the agent was in, and he just hoped she wasn't in a don't-piss-me-off mood. If she was, Tony was screwed.

"What?" her voice sounded normal, just a little irritated. That wasn't a bad start. Then again, Tony hadn't opened his mouth yet and that was where the danger lay.

"It's Tony." His voice sounded thick. While he was tempted to clear it he did not. "So I know you're not in a comfy-feely mood and all, but Capnade needs you."

"Capnade? What kind of sick joke is that?" Tony couldn't read her anymore. She seemed surprised by the nickname. So the billionaire tried to explain. She interrupted him. "No, I get it. I'm not an idiot, unlike you."

"I'll have you know that I'm considered one of the brightest minds of the century," he pointed out, puffing out with pride. "Now can you let me in to talk? I mean, it is my jet and I can just walk in but I'm being polite for once so I suggest you take the opportunity while it's on the table."

"It's better for you if I don't have to see your face. I might want to break it," she replied. "I know you're not wearing your suit and that door is your only protection. Only a fool would take it out of the way."

How did she know he wasn't wearing his suit? Now he was sure he wasn't getting out of this unscathed. She was calm now, but if she was even warning him it meant she wasn't in a good mood. He sighed.

"I'm just here for Steve's behalf," he said. It shocked him that he said that; he wasn't selfless like that and he never admitted it if he was. So he covered up his slip. "And for, you know, my life, because if the world is taken over by AIM I'm not going to be very happy."

Natasha had noticed. She was silent for a moment. "Why do you need me? You and Banner are some of the most brilliant people in the world."

"Banner has this ridiculous notion that Steve's high fever comes from his dreams of the explosion. 'Cause when he dreamt about his time in the ice he was always cold, though you didn't know that, and now he has a fever nothing will bring down so we think it's the same concept. Now Spangles won't wake up like the selfish bastard he is. Besides, me and Banner might be freakin' geniuses but Project: Rebirth exceeds even our understanding. You know, the whole Hulk thing?" Tony was rambling now.

Steve, selfish? Natasha lifted up the corner of her mouth. Tony was wrong about one thing, though; she knew how cold Steve could become during his dreams. That's why she always was with him at night. She didn't know about the fever, but if her presence had taken the trigger from the nightmares then it would make sense why he was okay when she was around.

"I tried everything. Jumping on him in the Iron Man suit, tickling him, throwing firecrackers at him—" Tony was interrupted by Natasha opening the door a crack. He could just see her horrified face.

"You did what?"

Tony smiled nervously. "Nothing. But can you come?"

Natasha opened the door wider and stepped out. "You are sick, Stark." She scrunched up her face. "No, twisted. Sick makes it sound like there's a cure. I'll help. But you are not throwing fire crackers or jumping on anyone in your suit ever again. Am I understood?"

"Yes, ma'am!" Tony mock saluted. She followed him to the kitchen. Tony noticed she looked like normal, her hair perfect and her make-up on. He also noticed dark bags that no amount of make-up could hide. Something was keeping her awake at night and she wasn't getting much sleep. He tried not to dwell on it.

"Spiders decided to come out of her web," he announced as he entered the room. Everyone turned. Natasha glanced around, her gaze settling on Banner.

"I'm ashamed, Bruce." Her voice was steady, not accusing and not light either. He gulped, aware that a very dangerous assassin was onto him.

"What did I do?"

"You let Tony have the first crack at waking Steve up. Even if he did succeed then Steve would have had a heart attack. You know it." She was outright dangerous. Everyone knew it. Something had snapped in her in Sydney and she wasn't getting over it. She was cold now, all light traces gone. Tony hoped she was still the Natasha Romanoff that was best friends with Steve.

"Um, yes. About that…I did have some restraint." He smiled sheepishly. Black Widow turned her heel.

A silent warning went around to everyone in the room—don't come in. The agent was waking Steve up her way and she wouldn't tolerate observers. Clint seemed especially freaked.

"I suggest we not go within ten feet of her. Last time she was like this…" The archer didn't have to finish. The tension filled the silence.

"Let's hope Captain Spandex has better luck," Tony replied, grabbing a doughnut before heading back to the cockpit of the plane.