"Alright, this is it. Do or die. The first round was a bloodbath, I'll give ya that, but I don't lay down easy. You ready?" Steve took a deep breath and focused. He moved his hand a quarter inch to the left and squinted at the goal. "Let's do this." He flicked the ball of paper hard, putting as much spin on it as he could. It sailed through the air and arched beautifully before jettisoning down towards the miniature net.

Poe lunged forward, paw outstretched for the deflection. But just as Steve anticipated, the extra spin on the ball threw him off and he overextended. The ball banked off the edge of the goal post and bounced into the plastic net.

Steve leapt up from the floor, shouting in triumph, "YES! AND IT'S ROGERS FOR THE WIN! ROGERS TAKES THE GAME AND IT'S MAYHEM IN THE ARENA!"

"Damn!" Sam cursed. "C'mon Poe, I had 40 bucks ridin' on you man!"

Laughing ecstatically, Steve picked up Poe who was looking decidedly displeased with his performance. "Awww, don't be such a sourpuss." He kissed the cat on top of the head and told him, "You and Uncle Sam woulda just blown it all on catnip and girls anyway."

Sam leaned back against the loft railing and pointed his beer bottle at Steve. "The game was rigged."

"Did you not see the spin of perfection I just put on that ball?"

"Did you not tell me your cat could beat Forrest Gump at ping pong?"

Steve paused. "I did say that, didn't I?"

"Uh yeah you said that."

Then he grinned and shrugged, letting Poe jump down to the floor. "Well, I am kinda smarter than Forrest, Forrest Gump."

Sam snorted derisively. "Bubba was smarter than Gump too, so that ain't sayin' much."

Poe dashed to the edge of the loft and meowed loudly. Steve watched his cat curiously; He wasn't expecting anyone else tonight.

"What's he doin'?"

"Oh uh, he does that when someone's comin' to the door. It's like a sixth sense or somethin'."

"Weird ass cat, man. Should be a damn dog," Sam muttered. "I'm gettin' another beer. You want?"

"Nah, I'm good."

Poe scrambled down the loft steps, making a beeline for the front door. Steve followed a little more sedately. Something immediately felt off, like an itch between his shoulder blades that he couldn't reach.

"Hey Sam?" he said with his eyes locked on the front door.

"Yeah man?"

"You come heavy?" Steve felt Sam tense behind him. The question was a warning; he knew that Sam never left home without a loaded weapon.

"Always."

Poe leapt gracefully onto the entryway bench and watched the front door, his tail slowly whisking back and forth. There was a soft knock and he hopped down and began scratching at the door. He looked back at Steve and trilled. Steve started, Poe only did that when—

The cat darted out of the way as Steve flung open the door. The first thing that he noticed was that her head was down. She was dressed all in black, with a deep hood cloaking most of her face.

"Natasha?"

"Hey Steve… could I come in?"

Something was wrong, he could feel it. She was just standing there with her hands stuffed in her jacket pockets, not looking up at him. He took her by the elbow and pulled her past him, and then quickly stuck his head out to check for anyone following in the hallway. He made sure to double lock the door, just in case.

When he turned back around, Natasha was still standing in a similar position, as if in a daze. For once, Poe was unnaturally quiet, watching her from a distance.

"Nat what's goin' on?"

"Um, I ran—I ran into some trouble earlier. And I..." she trailed off.

"What is it?" Steve asking, moving in closer.

"Think I could crash here tonight?"

"Of course you can, you know you can." He could feel nervous energy pouring off of her in waves; she was behaving like a skittish animal. He reached out to touch her, but stopped when she flinched back from him.

Steve sucked in a breath and tried to be calm, though his heart was racing. "Natasha, tell me what happened. I can smell blood on you. Let me help—please."

"Most of it's not mine," she mumbled.

"Tell us what we can do," Sam said. Natasha jumped, jerking her head up, completely startled. It was a measure of just how out of sorts she was that she hadn't even noticed Sam.

Then Steve saw it. He saw the quarter inch nick on her neck that had oozed a dark trail of blood beneath her jacket collar. He saw the deep, velvet bruise on her left cheekbone. He saw the angry red scrape across her chin, and in her wide green eyes he saw fear.

Blood began to pound in his head, stoking a sudden inferno raging through his chest. Someone had put their hands on her. Someone had punched her, cut her, hurt her, and made her afraid. That would not stand.

"Who did this?" Steve growled. No one would get away with hurting Natasha. She's mine! he thought with a snarl. He would hunt them down, kill them all, and enjoy every last minute of it. "Tell me who did it!"

It was Sam's hand on his shoulder that made him realize he was close to shouting, and that Natasha had shied away from him. That made his stomach churn; the last thing he wanted was for her to fear him.

"I promise he's not psycho," Sam told her with a gentle smile, "he just doesn't like it when you're hurt. And neither do I."

"I know, it's okay," Natasha replied quietly.

Sam held his hand out to her. "C'mon sweetie, come and sit down." With evident hesitation, she took his hand and let him lead her into the living room. Over Natasha's head, Sam shot him a look that said pull your shit together! Then he asked aloud, "Steve, think you could grab us all somethin' to drink?"

Steve sucked in a quick breath and nodded. His friend was right, he needed to curb his emotions, and luckily Sam had bought him time to do so. When he returned juggling three glasses of water, Sam was sitting on the coffee table, facing her. Natasha was staring at the floor, frowning.

"Sam?" Steve said, and held out two of the glasses of water to him. Sam looked up and took the glasses, nodded his thanks and then held one out to Natasha. Natasha took the glass as if by reflex, but didn't drink. Steve decided to give Natasha a little space and leaned back against the entertainment system behind Sam.

"Where were you tonight?" Sam asked.

"The Port," she replied without looking up.

"Baltimore?"

"Yeah."

"How many people attacked you?"

"Eight… I think."

"Where's your sidearm?" he asked, gesturing to the empty holster peeking out of her jacket.

"Gone."

"Did anyone follow you here?"

"No. I made sure. I…" she trailed off.

"Natasha," Sam asked carefully, "were you runnin' a mission at the Port?"

"Yes."

"Were you solo?"

"No—yes. I lost someone."

"I'm sorry," Sam said, pausing. "Did you finish the mission?"

Natasha hesitated. "No," she said, and then looked up at Steve as if just realizing he was there. "I have something for you."

Steve frowned at her in confusion. She had something for him—what did that even mean? Sam spok.e. "Natasha, you don't need to give him anything right now. Let's just focus on—"

Natasha spoke over him and shifted her gaze back to Steve. "He is the end of my mission." Her voice was almost mechanical and it made Steve's skin itch.

Sam leaned back cautiously when she moved a hand to her belt. There was a soft click and then she was pulling out a small cylinder the length of a pen, but as thick around as his thumb. Natasha held it out to him on her upturned palm. "Here Steve. It's yours, you can do… whatever you want with it. It's yours."

Steve took the cylinder, turning it in his fingers. As he began unscrewing the cap, Sam asked, "What is it?"

He pulled out a thin vial from the container, filled with a viscous red liquid. The cap was soldered closed, making a perfect seal. Steve read the engraving on the metal label, and felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand. It read:

Rogers, Steven Grant

03-01-1941

"It's the last sample of your blood, Steve," she explained woodenly. "The same day they pulled you outta the Vita-Ray."

Sam stood slowly, staring at the vial in Steve's hands. "Jesus Christ."

"His name was Gary," Natasha whispered to no one. "I lost him, but I don't wanna talk about it."


Thoughts? Shivers? Shock & awe? Bored? Overall, this revelation won't detract from the overarching plot. We aren't shifting gears to an action story, though it will play a background role in the future. Something happened that shook Natasha, and will ultimately shift the dynamic of their relationship in the next episode. Until next time!