A/N: Spoiler alert for Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Avengers: Age of Ultron, and Captain America: Civil War.

As always, many thanks go out to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta and Winter-Soldier-88 for the brainstorming.

Note 1: I know it's been a while since this story was updated, but it couldn't be helped. Not only is my muse a fickle little scamp, my family has been experiencing a great deal of emotional turmoil that may not get better any time soon. Such is RL.

Note 2: This story is being rewritten from chapter 45 forward to more closely conform to the MCU movies.

Namaste,

Sunny

"I will come back to you, I swear I will;
And you will know me still.
I shall be only a little taller
Than when I went."

― Edna St. Vincent Millay, The Harp-Weaver and Other Poems

Winter Soldier

And You Will Know Me Still

Chapter 45

Looking out the window of his room, James heard Natasha pour a glass of wine and return to the other end of the house. Too restless to lie down, he paced the length of the room while rubbing his hands together, not knowing if he should feel relieved or frustrated that Natasha hadn't followed him. Both, maybe.

After their dance, she'd kissed him, and it felt different than the other times. Her scent had changed, stirring long ago memories. The significance of their second kiss had been plain even to him. Natasha wanted to be with him. The truth was he'd wanted them to be together in every sense of the word for some time. Why then was he in here and Natasha at the other end of the house?

James made two more laps, and came to a decision that would change his relationship with Natasha from this day forward. He jerked open the door and quickly made his way through the kitchen and across the living room, stopping in front of her door with his hand raised to knock.

He heard a click, and the small wedge of light glowing on the wood floor at his feet went out. The bed springs creaked as Natasha got comfortable, putting an end to whatever fantasy his addled brain had cooked up.

Taking Natasha's cue, James went to the kitchen for a glass of wine. He got as far as the hall, and went back for the bottle, just managing not to slam his door. The first glass went down easy. Instead of pouring a second, he drank from the bottle until it was empty. Sitting on the side of the bed, he waited for the buzz to start. In the past, he would feel the alcohol's effects after two glasses of beer or wine, though it would take much more than that to get him drunk. Tonight, he felt nothing. Not the slightest effect from nearly an entire bottle of wine.

Pissed that he wouldn't even have the satisfaction of getting drunk, or even a decent buzz, James drew back his arm, preparing to throw the bottle at the wall, stopping in mid-motion. The crash would likely disturb Natasha.

He placed the bottle on the nightstand with the glass, stripped out of his clothes and went to take a shower. Setting the water to cold, he had just stepped under the spray when he heard the squeak of the bathroom door opening. A moment later, the shower curtain was pushed aside. Natasha stood there wearing only a bathrobe. Her green eyes were wide and sparkling with an emotion he hadn't seen in many years. Then, she smiled as her hand worked the tie free. She pushed the material off her shoulders, letting it fall into a fluffy pool at her feet. James returned the smile and adjusted the water temperature over to hot as she stepped over the side of the tub and pulled the curtain shut.

Morning

Natasha awoke slowly, waiting for the bright sunshine that came in through her bedroom window to touch her foot where it stuck out from under the covers. Without opening her eyes, she snuggled deeper into the softness of the mattress. She was about to drift off again when she sensed she wasn't alone. Her eyes fluttered open, making a quick scan of the room without betraying that she was awake.

Something was wrong. Though it had a similar nautical theme to match the rest of the house, this wasn't her room. Here, the color scheme had more browns and greens, where hers was dominated by red, white, and slate blue.

The soft susurrations of breathing whispered in the air, telling her someone was behind her, and was the source of feeling of being watched. The house was so far from everything and everyone, it could only be one person.

Lying next to her in the bed, the covers draped over his hips leaving him bare down below the waist, James smiled when their eyes met. "Good morning."

The night before came back to Natasha in a rush. The dancing, the kisses, the text from Clint telling her he was coming to get her and bring her to the farm, and her telling him to stay away. A glass of wine, joining James in the shower, and all that happened after. It was all indelibly etched into her memory. She had known it was a bad idea, and hadn't cared. Still didn't.

Though smiling, James had a look in his eyes that Natasha recognized. He was concerned that she had regrets. The truth was she did. She should get out of bed, go back to her room, and forget about what happened until their lives were sorted out. But after everything she and the Avengers had been through, she wanted to feel something besides the nothingness her mind had escaped into, leaving James to take care of her when she should've been caring for him.

Lifting the covers, Natasha rolled onto one knee, swinging the other leg up and over so she was astride his hips, holding him close. The hair on his chest tickled her skin as she caressed his mouth with hers. He returned the favor, his arms surrounding her, pulling her tightly against him.

Their lips parted, and she smiled dreamily. "Good morning." Laying her head on his shoulder, she toyed with the newly grown hairs on his chest. "How did you sleep?"

James lifted her hand to weave their fingers together. "Better than I have in months. You?"

"The same, thanks to you." Rising up on her elbows, she touched his face, enjoying the feel of his beard stubble against her fingertips. His hand cupped the back of her head, bringing her down for another kiss that started out deliciously tender and built to a fever pitch.

~~O~~

Even after their night of passion, James still felt embarrassment at being naked in front of Natasha. Without a word, she slid out of bed and handed him the boxers lying on the floor. He put them on then helped her into the robe from the bathroom floor. No woman had ever offered herself to him in the shower before. Not that there were that many, no matter what he'd told Steve. It was at once sensuous and sweet.

She pulled the robe closed and tied the belt. James smoothed his hands over the outside of her arms then around her waist, bending down to brush a soft kiss over the sensitive skin of her neck. Turning within the circle of his embrace, she kissed his lips and stepped back, forcing him to release her. "My turn to cook. I'll change and meet you in the kitchen."

Then, she was gone. There had been something different in this kiss, almost as if she were saying good-bye, putting distance between them. Did she regret seeking pleasure from him, using him to offset the horrors she experienced at the hands of spiteful children consumed with anger? The fact that Wanda and Pietro Maximoff had seen the devastation their thirst for revenge had done, that they were responsible for the deaths of so many people and had changed course meant less than nothing to him. They'd nearly killed the woman he cared deeply for, and that could not be forgiven for a long time.

James felt he should be resentful at being nothing more than a balm to soothe Natasha's injured psyche, but he wasn't. The years of abuse he endured at the hands of his captors had left him damaged physically and emotionally. If two broken people could help each other rise above the wounds of the past by spending the night in each other's arms, he would count himself lucky to have spent this time with her.

The rattling of pans in the kitchen brought him back from his introspections. He pulled a shirt on over his head, quickly shoving his arms into the sleeves, and reached for his socks and pants. Once dressed, he put on sneakers and joined Natasha in the kitchen. The stiffness in her spine was at odds with the smile she flashed over her shoulder.

"Want help?"

She shook her head. "It's time for me to do my share of the work around here. Stay and keep me company."

James watched Natasha mix ingredients in a bowl while the griddle heated. Wanting to help in some way, he got out cups, plates, silverware, and napkins to set the table.

The coffee pot sputtered as it completed the brewing cycle. He poured them each a cup, set one where she could reach it and returned to the table. James's memory told him he'd been a master at small talk. However, he couldn't think of a thing to say that wouldn't sound idiotic. "Thanks for the sex" was a rotten ice-breaker. "Was it good for you, babe?" was equally absurd.

Taking his cup, he went to look out the window at the riot of colors blossoming in the garden and the field beyond. Birds and insects swarmed around, hunting for treats or their daily meal. Something moved at the limits of his vision. "Natasha," he whispered, waving her over.

She came to his side with the spatula in one hand. He pointed and they shared an amused glance. "Let's avoid that area when we go for a walk."

"Not up to tangling with another skunk?"

"No!" The vehemence in her tone made him smile as she turned from the window. "Breakfast is ready."

James returned to the table, taking a seat and scooting his chair in as she set a plate in front of him piled high with pancakes and sausage. He waited for her to join him then picked up his fork and knife, relieved to find their pervious camaraderie had returned.

Every few minutes, Natasha would glance at him and away, as if she were having trouble finding the words to say what she was feeling. James shared her reticence with bringing up their night in his bed, but someone had to get the ball rolling. "Natasha…"

"The Avengers and Clint's family call me Nat. Bruce called me Tasha while we were dating."

It didn't make any sense that she'd bring up the nicknames her best friend and ex-lover used for her unless she now considered him an ex-lover, or worse, simply a friend. Neither scenario appealed to him. "Natasha," he stated firmly, placing himself in a different category, "last night was incredible."

She laid her fork on the edge of her plate so she could take his hand. "For me too."

At her touch, he nearly blurted out his true feelings. Instead, he went with, "It can't happen again. Not yet."

"I agree."

James's fingers involuntarily tightened on hers. She tugged and he promptly released her. "You do?"

"I do." Natasha gave his arm a squeeze. He looked down, and the contrast between her delicate fingers and his metal arm reminded him of all the pleasure they'd brought to each other during the night. That same hand touched his cheek, urging him to look at her. "We both have issues to deal with before taking on a long-term physically intimate relationship. Issues that demand our full attention. I'm not saying 'never'. Just not now."

James heard the words as well as the meaning behind them. In his past life as a young man on the prowl, he wouldn't have caught on so quickly to the fact that she wasn't dismissing them becoming more to each other than what they were. That there was hope for the future. What did that say about the man he used to be? The major point was that this life, this world, was vastly different now. He was different, and even if he could go back in time knowing what he knew now, he'd probably do it all the same. But here and now, he couldn't be that man. Not with a woman like Natasha. He laid his free hand over hers. "You are the most amazing woman I've ever met."

Grinning, she reclaimed her hand, picked up their plates, and carried them to the sink. She turned on the water and returned for the rest of the dishes, leaning close enough to whisper, "You ain't seen nothin' yet."

Tantalized by the statement meant to disturb his peace of mind, James got up from the table, undecided on how to respond. He went with his first instinct, spinning her around, and trapping her against the counter with an arm on either side. They both knew she could easily get away, yet she stayed. Leaning close so their bodies barely touched, he slowly lowered his head. Her lips parted in anticipation of his kiss, eyes squinting with disappointment when he veered off to one side to press his cheek against hers. With his mouth close to her ear, he whispered, "Neither have you."

Taking two steps back, James added a cheeky lift of one eyebrow before leaving by the patio door. He didn't know or care where he was going, as long as he made a grand exit.

~~O~~

The door closed behind James, and Natasha let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. At no time in her career as a spy had a man made her speechless with desire as he'd done with just three words. But was it lust or love? Setting that question aside for another time, she went back to washing the dishes, thinking about taking a long, cold shower when she was done.

By the time she'd finished cleaning up, her body had calmed somewhat, but not enough. Needing something physical to help take her mind off last night and this morning, she changed into hiking boots and set out for the bridge. Their last trip to town had taken all day because she refused to ask Clint to leave his family just to take them shopping. If the bridge wasn't repaired soon, she'd move them to another safe house.

The Avengers' fight with Ultron and the destruction of Sokovia had further tarnished the reputations of superheroes, many world leaders making veiled accusations, insinuating they'd destroyed Sokovia on purpose. Hence the rumors of a plan to make Inhuman registration mandatory, to make certain that others like them would be held accountable for their actions. There was more to it than that, but even her sources couldn't get the straight dope on it.

~~O~~

Coming around the last curve in the road, Natasha saw James standing with his arms crossed staring at the damage wrought by the storms. The right side was only partially intact. Even if there was room for the SUV to cross, the bridge wouldn't support its weight. The only other change since the last time they were here was both sides being blocked off with bright orange barrels that would glow in the dark to stop anyone from accidentally driving into the river at night.

She came up next to him and crossed her arms. James hadn't so much as looked at her since she arrived on the scene. He also didn't appear to be surprised that she was there. "What if we blow this Popsicle stand and go see Steve? Clint would give us a lift." She felt James stiffen next to her, fear coming off of him in a wave. Though she'd told herself and him that they would keep their distance, she slipped her hand into his and gave it a squeeze. "It'll just be you, me and Steve. He just wants to talk to you. If you're not comfortable being in the city again, we don't have to stay."

James managed a smile. "Not worried, as long as you're with me."

Tilting her head to look at him, Natasha gave him a cheeky half-grin. "Do you have any idea how corny that sounds?"

"Uh…"

"It's okay. Corny works for you." She reached up with her free hand to brush the long hair away from his face. He inhaled sharply, and their eyes locked for a breathless moment. Then they were in each other's arms. James picked her up and laid her in the warm grass that grew alongside the narrow road in the shade of the trees. The heat their bodies generated together grew until it consumed them.

Alamogordo, New Mexico

Discount Mart

The man now known as Charles Fowler kept his head down and turned from the store's cameras as he entered. Since the downfall of HYDRA, he'd been living off the grid, dipping into the offshore accounts squirreled away for just such a time as this. Every few weeks he would move to a new location in a moderately large city where he could go relatively unnoticed by the residents and especially the cops. His ultimate goal was a safe house in Cleveland. If he could make it there, he felt certain the rest of his life would go much smoother than the past year.

Most of his purchases were from small second-hand clothing shops and outdoor markets to avoid cameras. He would not be here now if he hadn't injured himself while repairing the car. While getting first aid supplies, he would also buy enough food for several days so he wouldn't have to go out again. I will get clothes as well, he thought to himself.

With his vast training and experience in infiltration prior to joining the Winter Soldier program, blending in was easy. His affinity for languages and regional accents had taken him far.

While searching the sale racks, Fowler's fingers clenched on the jacket he'd chosen at seeing a ghost from his recent past. He quickly pushed the cart over to another aisle where he could see without being seen. He aimed his phone at the ghost, zooming in for a closer look. "Bozhe moi! What is the Asset doing here?"

Recapturing the Asset would go a long way toward returning him to his former glory within HYDRA. He could return to Russia even, if it suited him. He had the one tool that would make it a simple matter to turn the Asset to his will.

Fowler peeked around the end of the shelving, startled once again to see that the Asset was in the company of a woman, but not just any woman. That red hair was unmistakable, and when she turned around, the breath stopped in his throat. The Black Widow! He'd heard of her absence from many of the Avengers appearances, as well as that of the one they called the Hawk.

A plan formed in his mind, and his smile was not a pleasant one. Leaving the cart where it was, Fowler worked his way back to the entrance and ran to the trailer attached to his car. The small trailer held everything he owned in this world, all of it acquired since arriving in the U.S. All but one item.

He fumbled the keys in his haste, mentally swearing at himself. Then finally, he was able to remove the padlock and the door opened. Quickly scanning the marks on the sides of the boxes, he found the one he wanted. He pulled out a knife, used it to slit the tape and nearly ripped the flaps opening it. The item he needed was on top.

Glancing around, Fowler saw that no one seemed concerned with what he was doing. He tucked the item inside a cloth bag, zipped the top, locked the trailer and returned to the store.

Because the Asset and the Black Widow weren't covering their trail, he easily caught up with them, staying just close enough that he could hear their conversation.

"Go try these on."

The Asset huffed. "I don't need to try them on. The tag says they're my size."

"Trust, but verify. Go."

Fowler scoffed. The Asset actually believed he could be human again. He would show him the folly of his ways. Grabbing a random item of clothing, a pair of pants, he went to the changing rooms. "I'd like to try this on," he told the attendant, smiling so she would think him friendly.

He ducked into the small room and pulled the door shut just as the Asset walked up to the counter and was shown to the stall next to his. Now to get rid of the attendant. Fortune was with him when her phone rang and she stepped away to talk.

~~O~~

James hung his jacket and shirt on the hook provided, removed the shirt from the hanger and put it on, checking the look in the mirror as he buttoned up the front. Rolling his eyes, he thought, Told her it would fit. Better try the pants on too, or I'll never hear the end of it.

He toed off his shoes and had unbuckled the belt when he heard whispering from the next stall, barely loud enough to hear with his enhancements. An average man wouldn't have noticed, or thought the other person was on the phone.

His hands froze on the waist of his pants before he could take them off. The soft muttering entered his brain and he reacted to them as if he'd never been out of HYDRA's clutches.

"Sil'noe zhelaniye… rzhavet… semnadtsat'…"

Staring straight ahead, he did up the front of his pants and buckled the belt, having forgotten why he was there.

"…rassvet… pech'… devyat'… dobrokachestvennaya…"

His breathing settled into a slow, easy rhythm.

"…vozvrashcheniye domoy… odin…"

There was a long pause, then the last word completed the transformation.

"…gruzovoy avtomobil."

James's mind felt empty, barren, devoid of thought or will, waiting to be filled with yet another mission.

The voice was familiar, made up of arrogance and determination, lacking any other emotion. "Soldat?"

~~O~~

There was a long pause and Fowler's stomach clenched. Had the Black Widow discovered how to remove the triggers? Relief like he hadn't known washed through him when the Asset spoke.

"Ya gotov otvechat'."

Still speaking Russian, Fowler whispered, "Listen carefully, soldat. This is what you will do…"

The attendant was finishing up her call. He had to act quickly or all would be for naught.

~~O~~

The voice, recognizable from times past, quickly outlined the parameters of the mission, concluding with, "When it is done, come to me at the Motel 9 on Highway 54 and South White Sands Boulevard, room fifty-seven."

Something about the subject of the mission disturbed him, but only marginally. He wasn't programmed to respond to emotions.

"Soldat?"

As he'd been conditioned, the Asset muttered, "Ya podchinyus'."

"Remember to speak English while you are in the Black Widow's presence." A door creaked as it was opened. He thought his instructions were at an end, but he was wrong. "Continue with what you were doing and remember to do nothing to cause her to suspect that you have been compromised."

The slamming of the stall next to him jolted James out of his daydream about Natasha and he making a long and fulfilling life together. He exchanged the shirt for the one he wore into the store, rehung the other, grabbed his jacket, the pants, and left the stall.

Natasha was waiting, her eyebrows drawn down in the middle. "You didn't try them on?"

Her voice sounded far away, as if she were in another part of the safe house talking to someone else. Taking a deep breath, he brought his eyes down to hers. "Yes. They're fine. Can we go now?"

Unknown Location

Fresh from another round of skin grafts performed by an underground medical clinic, Rumlow touched the pressure bandage on his left cheek and over the ear self-consciously at the knock on the secured door. Holding his weapon in the other hand, he checked the monitor before going to let in those he'd recruited from the fallen ranks of HYDRA. Only now, they worked for themselves as mercenaries.

Over the months since they'd joined forces, their group had honed their skills, making small practice runs in preparation for the big payoffs. What they needed was someone they could send in to do all the hard and heavy lifting, so the rest of them could waltz in and clean up. They needed an asset. They needed the Asset.

The feelers Rumlow put out were coming up with nothing. No sightings on the Asset at all. Every so often, someone would contact him to say the Asset had been seen in such and such city, and each time it had turned out to be a dead end.

His people helped themselves to drinks and waited for him to tell them what to do. They were all lambs, sheep, and toadies with nothing better to do than follow orders. The perfect employees.

Once everyone was seated, Rumlow took his place at the front of the room. "It's time for us to take control. Our contacts haven't found the Asset yet, so we're gonna do it ourselves." He nodded to the man sitting at the desk with a computer already powered up. "We'll need funding. I've come up with the bare bones of a plan. If anyone has ideas to toss about, go ahead."

A woman sitting in the front cleared her throat. "We're a small group, sir. The Asset is one man out among billions. He could be anywhere by now."

Rumlow smiled, keeping the sarcasm at a minimum with little effort. He knew how to work a room, to incite soldiers into action. "That's why we're here. To figure it out."

"And you will fail, my friend."

The strange voice coming out of the dark spurred the mercenaries to action. Within seconds, all had guns aimed toward the inky pool surrounding the main entrance.

Without being told, the owner of the accented voice moved into the light, undisturbed by the number of weapons pointed in his direction. Rumlow looked him over. He wasn't tall, a lightweight in the muscles department, his eyes dark and emotionless, dressed to go unnoticed by the public, forties maybe.

"Whereas, I have a plan to flush out this Asset of which you speak." He dragged a chair over to where he could see everyone and they could see him. Before sitting, he opened his jacket to show that he was unarmed. "It will be easier for you to take notes, if you put your weapons away."

Rumlow nodded and his people complied, still keeping a wary eye on the newcomer. "Who are you? How did you get in here?"

One side of the man's mouth turned up. "Getting in was easy for a member of an elite covert paramilitary death squad." He laid the ankle of one leg on the knee of the other, appearing relaxed, even a bit sleepy. "A good host would offer a guest refreshment."

He motioned at the kitchen and the man at the desk went and came back with a bottle of water. Standing tall, Rumlow crossed his arms, glaring at the uninvited guest. "Still haven't told me your name."

"My name is Zemo," he twisted the top off the bottle, "and I am here to help you catch the Winter Soldier."

Tularosa, New Mexico

The Safe House

James hadn't said a word to Natasha the entire ride back to the safe house, and few before that, only speaking when spoken to. When he first came out of the changing room, she thought he was ticked off about having to try on the clothes and was brooding. But the longer he stayed silent, the more it seemed like something else was going on. He was himself when he went in and not when he came out. Her danger sense pricked at the edges of her mind, telling her that more was wrong than an annoyed lover.

Was he rethinking their mutual decision to not be intimate again until certain issues were resolved? What if said issues never reached a satisfactory resolution? If that's how it went, they'd revisit their decision, but for now, it stayed in place. James would sleep in his room and she would sleep in hers.

She parked the car, shut off the engine and got out. James did as well, but didn't help carry their purchases into the house. Resigning herself to doing it alone, Natasha grabbed bags of perishables and went inside to put them away. James wasn't in the living room or the kitchen. His bedroom door was standing open, also empty.

When she came back with the second load, the back door was open and James was standing there staring at nothing. Once everything was put away, she went outside to check on him. "James?"

As if from far away, he muttered, "Hmm?"

"Are you okay?"

He took a long, deep breath and let it out as he angled his head down to look at her. Then, he smiled. "Fine. Why do ask?"

Natasha resisted taking his hand. Something inside said not to touch him. "You've hardly said a word. Thought you were pissed at me."

This time when James looked at her, he actually saw her. "Of course not." His gazed immediately left her face, as if he couldn't bear to look at her. "What's for dinner? I'm hungry."

Without waiting for an answer, he walked past her into the house, and a moment later, his door closed.

~~O~~

The trip into Alamogordo had been long and tiring. After dinner, Natasha read for a while, washed her face, brushed her hair, and brushed and flossed her teeth. In her room, she performed a short tai chi routine to relax, and got into bed.

An unknown amount of time later, she awoke with a start. Head tilted to the side, she listened for what woke her hearing nothing but the usual night sounds. Still, something wasn't right in the house.

Slipping noiselessly off the side of the bed, Natasha took out one of her many weapons, hoping she wouldn't need them. A sound that could've been the house settling or something more sinister reached her ears.

The sound moved through the living room and stopped. Natasha slowly stood next to the window and eased it up. She'd long ago take the screen off and lubricated the slides so they wouldn't make noise when she opened them.

~~O~~

It wasn't long before the bedroom door slowly opened, again without making a sound. Watching from her hiding place, Natasha readied herself to spend the rest of the night interrogating the gatecrasher.

The intruder went to the side of her bed, finding it empty. He saw the open window and went to look out. At that moment, Natasha opened the closet door and swung down from the shelf, activating her Widow's Bites at the same time.

In the light of the waning moon and the eerie glow of the Widow's Bites, the face of the intruder could be seen. She wanted to say she was surprised, but that would be a lie. Since their trip into town, his character, the man he'd become in the time they'd been together was off. At dinner and after, he'd been his usual charming self, but with a strange edge, as if he were playing a part in a play for which he was unprepared. He remembered the words and the blocking of the scenes without knowing what emotions or mannerisms to use for his character. As a spy, he'd have been made within minutes. "James? What are you doing?"

He turned toward her, his eyes narrowed dangerously, reminding her of the fight on the bridge and in the streets of D.C. How had he been turned into the Winter Soldier again? What was the catalyst? He'd never spoken about that aspect of the program. Just being put in and taken out of cryo.

She switched to Russian, making her voice cold and emotionless. "Return to base."

"I must complete the mission."

"What is the mission, soldat?"

James leveled his gaze on her as his right hand came up with a one of the many weapons she'd hidden around the house. "Sanction and return."

"Who is to be sanctioned?"

"The Black Widow." On the last syllable he thumbed the safety off and squeezed the trigger.

TBC

Longing: sil'noe zhelaniye

Rusted: rzhavet

Seventeen: semnadtsat'

Daybreak: rassvet

Furnace: pech'

Nine: devyat'

Benign: dobrokachestvennaya

Homecoming: vozvrashcheniye domoy

One: odin

Freight car: gruzovoy avtomobil

Soldier: soldat

Ready to comply: ya gotov otvechat'

I will comply: ya podchinyus'