They rode the boat for several hours across the seas and once they arrived at the mainland, they docked it by the coast of Macapà and Natasha hot-wired the first SUV they saw at the parking lot. With much haste, they loaded the boxes of evidence they gathered, their stolen weapons, and medical supplies. Sam and Nick helped carry Steve into the vehicle. Steve was awake and he insisted he could walk while Sam and Nick ignored him. He ended up sitting in the backseat with Natasha while Nick drove and Sam took shotgun. Steve fell asleep within the first ten minutes of the drive, slumped onto Natasha's shoulder due to the high dose of ibuprofen they've given him.

Brazil wasn't anything new to Natasha or Nick. They've been in and out of this country countless times, they knew every informant there was in town and Natasha had her webs stationed at several different states in the country. The closest one from Macapà was at a small municipality called Mazagão, where immigrants from Morocco resided. Natasha hated this web, simply because it made her stand out in the Moroccan-majority crowd-- but seeing the situation right now, they didn't seem to have much of a choice.

The drive took a little more than half an hour, and once they got to their destination they woke Steve and rushed inside with paranoia.

This web was one of the vastest ones she had, stationed at the suburban part of the small area, and she had stone walls and high gates that concealed the hideout perfectly. There was a parking lot suited for two vehicles, an unkempt, 200 square foot lawn with a mouldy cast stone fountain right outside the front door, and the house itself held three bedrooms, each filled with a single bed. The kitchen's filled with local canned foods, air conditioning worked perfectly fine, and the tap water ran clean. They're all set.

"He'll heal in two weeks, I'll give you that." Sam suggested while he took apart his pistol on the kitchen bar, wiping a piece of cloth all over the surface to clean it.

Natasha walked across the room, peeking a glance at Steve who was already asleep again inside one of the rooms. She gently pulled the door closed. "They'll pick Macapà clean. That takes three, maybe four days, give or take. I barely used my web here, they might not know we're in Mazagão. But it's only an hour drive from Macapà though. Won't take long before they start searching here."

Sam took a gander at her, giving her an annoyed look that was meant to paint her to a corner. He's still angry at her for what happened and he has every right to. Natasha decided to say nothing about it for now-- Nick's orders.

Nick Fury was leaning against the kitchen counter, lips pouted and arms folded across his chest, ruminating in his silence. Natasha noticed it and decided to ask.

"What do you have in mind, Nick?"

He stood still. "James Barnes was with us."

"I'm sorry, what?" Natasha switch confused glances between Nick and Sam, who now fixed his stance uncomfortably and bored a regretful stare at the floor. "The Winter Soldier attacked you? Where? When?"

"No." Sam exhaled. "He was with us, helping us track you down. But Klaue's men took him captive and we think Klaue is trying to sell him to Wilson Fisk."

Natasha raised a brow at the two. "It's a long story." Nick explained. "We'll tell you the rest later."

"Well alright. So... you SURE he's being sold to Fisk?"

Nick squinted. "Seventy percent."

It took Natasha a moment to gather her thoughts. She had a few in mind but she decided to ask just one. "Does Steve know about this?"

"Of course not." Said Sam. "Have you seen him? One more bad news and he cracks."

Natasha began pacing back and forth across the kitchen. Nick's eye followed her like a cat, studying her like a spy would.

"So you're saying..." She paced about anxiously, "we need to go and save him."

The two men didn't say anything, not that Natasha really needed a verbal answer.

"Fisk is a very powerful man."

Nick squinted. "Exactly."

"I've dealt with Fisk--" Her voice faltered. "Not the sort of man you can reason with." She stopped in her tracks and looked at Nick sharply. "We can pull this off but it'll be tricky."

Sam had now finished reassembling his handgun. He slid the magazine case closed with a swift, crackling sound. "First thing's first. We gotta figure out what Klaue really wants right now. Whether he's after us--"

"We killed plenty of his men and we're messing with his illegal business, what do you think he wants?" Natasha cuts off. When Sam's eyes widened with mild resentment directed at her, Nick decided to step in.

"Natasha. That old contact in the city. Can you reach him?"

She bit her lip as she gathered her thoughts around it. "I should be able to. I'll see if I can get a hold of him."

Nick nodded. "We locate Barnes and we locate Klaue, find out what he's up to and only then we decide what to do. Let's not be crass-- being compromised is not an option."

They ended the discussion after that, and decided to spend the rest of the night taking turns in watching over Steve, who mostly slept soundly. When dawn arrived Nick busied himself switching between news channels trying to get an update from the world, while Natasha stood outside just by the front door, staring out to the horrific lawn of her safehouse, smoking a piece of cigarette in peace. She purposedly stacked a few packs in her webs, for times like these.

"Care if I join you?" Sam peeked out the door after sometime and said. He'd never seen her smoke but he didn't seem surprised by it.

"Sure. Uh-- want a cig?" She decided to ignore the oddity to the situation and offered him a half-full box of cigarettes, but he shook his head, inserting his hands in his pockets and puffing out the chilly night air instead. A wall of awkward silence stood between them, waiting for any of them to take it down, any second now.

"Your med stash is out of this world, by the way." Sam started, looking down at the floor and leaning onto the door.

"Yeah? What did you give him?"

"Let's see-- some Oxycontin, Horizant and a couple of Advils."

"Hm." She inhaled deep and relaxedly puffed the smoke out to the night air. Conversation ensues, she thought as she took a deep breath.

"Isn't it a bit cold out here?"

"I like the cold." She then looked at him and bit her lip with trembling doubt. "Sam, I--" Her green eyes met his brown ones, tender under the dim porch light. "Thank you." She sighed. "For everything you've done to help Steve. You don't even have to forgive me for it, I just need to get that off my chest."

He scoffed and leered at her. It was a subtle gesture, and beyond it she could still see the familiar kindness that was the man he's always been. "I only did what I had to do, man. No choice given on that."

She looked away, dropping her cigarette stub to the ground and crushing it with her shoe. "Sorry I cut you off during our discussion back there."

"Nah." He pouted and shook his head, failing miserably at his attempt to sound cold. He was thawing in her sight, and he hadn't realized it just yet. "What about we move on and talk about something else, dollface."

"Okay." She bit her lip to think. "Let's see... where'd you get your med training?"

He shrugged, almost amicably. "Took some serious tolls back in the army. Had to take care of my buddies. When we flew to Afghan, we were ten marines, 7 meds. Six months later I had eight dog tags in my pocket, one medic left alive, and we had injured marines just lying there waiting for a meat wagon in the middle of an active warzone. Jones-- that's his name. Super generic huh? Well, someone had to learn the tropes to help out. He taught me how."

Natasha gave him a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright, Nat."

She lit up another cigarette, and proceeded to smoke in silence. Sam watched her, as if wanting to say something but he wasn't sure.

"He forgives you huh? Like he always does."

She found herself squinting at the thought of Steve, of how he pulled her to a kiss and she kissed back for a moment before she realized how incredibly stupid that was. She stormed out of the room after and they haven't talked since. "I think so."

"He must love you a whole lot."

"That, we both know don't we?"

"Look, I'm not gonna ask you what happened to you back at the island and all that shit, don't worry about it." He said softly, comforting her. "I've missed you though, Nat. For reals."

The corner of her lips pulled to a confused smile. There it was, a confession she wasn't prepared to hear. "Here I am thinking how much you must hate me."

He scoffed. "I don't, widow. I came all this way to find you both, I'm not gonna let it go to waste for some stupid grudge." He then chuckled ironically, "In all honesty I can barely stay mad at you. I miss your gorgeous ass too much."

Silence. Natasha didn't know what to say next, and neither did Sam.

And then she bursts onto laughter. A gleeful, shameless laugh, and Sam laughed with her. It was something she didn't even know she missed; she couldn't believe how much she missed Sam's humor; she missed the times when he made her laugh with his silly jokes and all those times they spent together skimming over mission files and teasing Captain-America-mode Steve, who would tell them to stay focused whenever Sam cracked a joke. Even back then, when he's mad at her he could never shrug off his sweetness.

"That's your worse pick-up line yet, Wilson."

"That's just because you're playing hard to get."

"Not always." She smiled at him at last.

"Yep, yep. Here's that gorgeous smile. How can anyone stay mad at that smile?"

She threw down her cigarette stub and lit up another one with a smile up her lips. The next time their eyes met his exuberance had subsided, replaced with a serious look.

"For real now, all that stabby-stabby shit over?"

She inhaled smoke onto her lungs and exhaled to get a grip of herself. "Yeah. I hope."

"Alright, let's strike up a deal. You promise not to pull that murderous crap again, I'll work on trying to not hate you."

"Sounds fair to me."

"Now come here and give me a proper hug."

She raised a brow with confusion, but when she realized he was being serious, she awkwardly took a step closer, wrapping her arms around him. It's been a while since the last time she actually hugged someone, and it felt nice. So nice and warm. His arms cradled across her back, and she closed her eyes and exhaled a relieved breath at the feeling.

When they both pulled away, Sam was looking at her with a request, "You're sleeping together right?"

"I'm gonna pretend you didn't just ask me that.

"No!" Sam let out a chuckle. "I meant tonight. You should share his bed."

"Oh. Um, stack together in a single bed? No thank you. I think I'll take the couch."

"Look, all I'm saying is should take the bed so you'll be the first to know if there's an emergency or anything. But if you two are still going through one of y'alls temporary break up thing, then you do you. Heads up though, I'm expecting a good sleep tonight, so don't go knocking on my door."

She pursed her lips to a thin line. "I'll think about it."

"You better."

A thin blow of cold night air swept over them and she hissed, taking in the remnants of cigarette smoke from her now-tiny stub. She could see how the blow made Sam shiver for a moment. "You know you both shouldn't trust me around him. I'm not mentally stable, remember?"

"Neither of us are, Nat. Makes it interesting in my book."

She peered at him and studied the look on his face. He seemed content, stable enough in their given situation. He turned his head to look at her, except he was looking at the cigarette between her fingers curiously, as if he wanted it.

True enough, he asked, "Give me a cig."

She quirked a brow and smirked, but complied anyways without a word. She even lit it up for him. She knew of this, him smoking. She'd seen a pack of Pall Mall sticking out of his pocket one time. She never said anything, though. It wasn't like her to tease people about these kinds of stuff.

He frowned when Marlboro crept into his throat but didn't complain. "Steve would be so furious if he finds out about this."

"Lucky Grandpa America is asleep."

He chortled. "Nah, nah. You know what? You'll be off the hook. I'll be in trouble. Damn favoritism." He counterfeited a pissed grunt and she giggled at him.

She threw her cigarette to the ground, and yet lit up another one. "So, Bucky Barnes, huh?"

Sam's eyes darkened and he let out a sigh. "Yeah."

"Have you asked him to get you a new car or are you two now getting cozy in his bed?"

"Ha-ha. Very funny, Romanoff-- and no, I haven't asked him. Gotta be honest, without all that winter soldier mind control crap, he's an alright guy."

"I look forward to meet him, then."

"Do me a favor, though." He said, and she looked at him, waiting. "Don't tell Steve about him yet."

"Sure thing."

"How can I trust you?"

She scoffed. "What kind of spy do you take me for?"

"One who's banging Captain America?"

"Oh please." She rolled her eyes. "That was ages ago."

"Oh, so you're telling me-- nothing happened when you both were alone in Nick's apartment for two whole weeks, and then spent few days in that Ignatio ship, and then stuck in the island for another two weeks? Nothing?"

"Wilson." She sighed, genuinely uncomfortable with the conversation now. Sam just laughed it off.

"You're full of crap, Romanoff."

"Yeah, and I can kill you in your sleep." She still managed to smile at him, though her eyes were serious now, giving him a clear message of how much she didn't want to talk about it.

Sam smiled smugly. "You're fooling no one, just saying."

She pouted while Sam continued to grin at her.