Chapter 9

The day I decide to go training with him, everything gets a lot easier, the afternoon gets shorter somehow. We go to a gym, somewhere he's been working out in for a while now. It feels kinda familiar, like I've already been here, even though I know I haven't. I feel at ease here.

We're all alone, and when I ask him about it he tells me that the owners gave him the keys to this place when they upgraded to a new, nicer gym. This was supposed to be a storage room, but Steve set it up like this. He moved the boxes, took out the old equipment, he sweeps the floors now and then, and keeps it nice, so it'll feel like one of the training places that used to be around back in the day…

"Did you put up the posters too?" I tease him, and he turns a bit, side-eyeing me.

"Oh, shut up. They were already up when I got here." I laugh and he keeps hitting the bag. I'm pretty far away, doing crunches on one of the machines, and I'm trying my best not to look at him. He's got his back to me, and if I did, I know I could see every single one of his muscles working and tensing up as he moves, and the sweat wetting his tight white t-shirt and getting it stuck to his skin, and his… I sigh. Yeah, not a great idea to think about that when you're trying to act like a decent human being. My eyes do slip once in a while, though. Soldier-freak or not, I'm still human.

But I do my best to ignore that he looks great, and concentrate on the work out. It feels really good to be able to use machines again, to have some space to move. I spent like half an hour running back a forward from one wall to the other when we first got here. Not because I thought it was a great exercise, but because I could. I hadn't realized how locked up I had been feeling lately.

I try to hit all the machines, and I even spend some time practicing some boxing. I keep thinking the bags must be a huge waste of money, but he just tells me that I shouldn't worry about it. After a few hours, while I'm at the pullup-bar, I stop hearing Steve in the background. I look around for him while I keep going, and notice he's stopped, and is now just looking at me while he takes a break. To be honest, I'm already pretty bored. With my mechanical arm, this is certainly not the best exercise in the world, and I ran out of motivation a couple sets ago.

"Think we can call it a day?" he asks, and I drop to the ground to look at him. He's walking towards me.

"Sure."

"Great. The showers are through there. Want to go first, or should I?" he points at a far corner, near the exit.

"Nah, you go ahead, I'll finish this set," he nods and leaves, but I don't go back to the bar. Instead, I just take a towel and use it to wipe the sweat off the back of my neck.

And then I hear something that's not supposed to be there, and I'm suddenly really aware of the surroundings. Someone's in here with us, I can feel it. I walk away as if I'm done and go for one of the punching bags we should clear, as if I haven't heard anything. Moving allows me to change angles to pinpoint the exact place where the intruder is. They're in one of the back rooms, where the boxes are, luckily that's nowhere near Steve, and it has two doors.

I walk casually until I'm out of sight and then sneak behind some stuff to surprise them. I catch a glimpse of their arm, crouching behind a pile of boxes. Now that I have them on sight, I take a moment to check my mental state. I'm still me. My name's with me, my memories are as clear as they've been lately, and I know I don't really need to do anything except capture them. That's where I'll draw the line. Part of me is missing my knife, but I think it's probably for the best that I don't have any weapons with me right now. I'm dangerous enough without having any.

I take a silent step to my side and now I can see her. She's with her back to me, probably trying to figure out my position. I'm about to go at her, but I stay still when her bright red hair triggers something in my brain. I know her. I've fought her before.

'Natasha' my brain provides. Steve talked to me about her. She's his friend. I stand down and look at her for a couple seconds. I remember the last time I saw her and I feel like I might throw up. I tried to kill her. I'm not ready for this conversation. I'm not ready for her to tell me to leave Steve alone -because I know I should-, and that I'm not good enough for him -because I know I'm not-. I'm not ready for her to tell me she's turning me in, or that I should be in prison. I don't want this part of my life to be over so soon. It went by so quickly and lasted so little. Decades of torture for just some happy months ? It doesn't seem fair, but I knew it couldn't last forever. The expression 'too good to be true' comes to mind. I close my eyes for a second and try to think rationally. I analyze her posture and her breathing. I couldn't be sure, but she doesn't seem to be on a mission. She doesn't look like she's here to take me out, so maybe she's here for some other reason. I clench my jaw and try to gather some balls. There's only one way to find out.

"Hey," I whisper and she turns around instantly, standing up and pointing a gun at me, so I back up a step and show her my palms. "Easy now, I don't want to fight," I assure her. It's true. If she's really here to take me into custody, I won't fight against it. Deep down, I know she's right. She doesn't lower her gun. Maybe she doesn't believe me. I'm telling the truth, but after everything I've done, it only seems fair.

"Me neither," she says after a while, and she aims at my chest instead of my head. At this point, I'll take whatever I can get, so I see that as a win. I lower my hands, turning my body a bit to hide my arm as much as I can without making her think I'm actually trying to hide something. I wish I wasn't wearing a short sleeve shirt. She doesn't need to be reminded of that.

"Steve told you I was staying at his place?" I ask when I get the feeling that she's not gonna start talking any time soon.

"Yeah. I promised I wouldn't stop by the apartment" she tilts her head and lets out a small smile as one of her eyebrows shoots up. It looks like a practiced expression. "I'm working on keeping my promises," she adds.

"Well, you didn't break it," she lowers her gun a bit more and I look at the opened door for a few seconds. "You came here to take me?" She frowns.

"Take you where?" I put my hands in my pockets because I don't want her to notice that I'm shaking. I don't want to go. I shrug.

"To wherever it is you guys take criminals." I try to smile at her, but I'm not sure if it comes through. "It's OK, I don't blame you. I understand. But I'd appreciated it if you'd let me talk to Steve first. I..." my voice fades when I realize I'm about to say I made a promise to him, because it feels way too intimate. "I told him I'd say goodbye," I say instead. She analyzes me for a moment.

"I'm not turning you in", she replies, and I look at her, confused.

"You're not?" she shakes her head, still looking at me like I'm crazy, and I can't help the smile that comes to my lips. It's not over just yet. I get a little more time. I swallow hard, because I feel so relieved I could cry, but I do my best to focus. Even if she's not turning me in, she's still here for a reason.

"But you needed to see me," I say. It's not a question, but she nods anyway.

"He said you were different," she explains.

"And you don't believe that," I reply, matter-of-factly. She's aiming at the floor now, but I make no mistake believing she's relaxed. I know she's still ready to shoot at me at the slightest of provocations, so I avoid any sudden movements. She looks pretty lethal.

"I know that he really wants to believe it. And that that might be clouding his judgment." I nod, it makes sense, I can't argue with it. "Don't get me wrong, I'm a big supporter of second chances. But I don't know if people are really able to change." I look down at the floor. The truth is that I don't know either. I want to, I'm trying , but I don't really know.

"I hope we are," I whisper, and dare to look at her again. She looks like she agrees.

The silence takes over for a while, and then I break it when I find something worth saying. "I'm not gonna hurt him," I leave out in a breath, and my eyes dart to where he is, because that's what she's trying to find out. She's looking out for him. Protecting him, and I'm glad he has people who care for him like this.

But it doesn't seem like my words are enough. They can't express just how much I would give to not hurt him ever again. "I'd give my life for him," I add, trying to be as honest as I can be. It's hard to be so open with someone I barely know, but it's necessary.

She looks at me like she's reading my mind and I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not. She doesn't seem to be scared of me, and I briefly wonder if I should be scared of her. She certainly proved herself to be quite a fighter the last time we met.

"I'm really sorry, by the way." The words escape my mouth without me being able to stop them. "About trying to kill you," I add when I feel like I haven't been specific enough. What and idiot. Like I could be talking about anything else.

"Which time?" she asks with a mischievous smile, and my eyes go wide.

"I tried to kill you more than once? " She nods, seemingly amused.

"Five years ago, in Ukraine." I run my hands through my hair and let out a sigh.

"God , I'm so sorry," I say again, and she gives me a look. Her smile hasn't faded yet.

"Don't worry. My street credit went way up. 'The woman who survived The Winter Soldier himself' is a pretty good reference." I flinch at the name, but I try to brush it off. She's being merciful, using a playful tone instead of a reproching one.

"Twice," I add, trying really hard to play along. "You're good." She smiles proudly.

I turn my head when I hear Steve walking out of the showers. "Were you here just for me, or would you like to come talk to the both of us?" I ask, and she shrugs.

"We could chat a bit." Steve calls my name from the other room.

"I'll be there in a second!" I say loud enough for him to hear my voice. "Shall we?" I say quieter, turning to her, and gesturing for her to get out first, but she shakes her head and points at the door with her eyes, so I walk through the door before she does. I think she doesn't trust me enough to have her back to me. Again, I can't blame her. I hear her putting her gun away as soon as I turn.

"Look who I ran into," I say to Steve as casually as I can when he sees me, and I suppress a laugh when he lays eyes on her and adopts this weird expression. He looks like a father that caught his kid doing something wrong. Arms crossed, disappointed look and everything.

"Romanoff… What a coincidence." The sarcastic tone is highlighted by the way he's smiling.

"Hey, Rogers. Always a pleasure," she gives him a more sincere smile, but he looks nervous.

"What have you been up to?" he asks, and she smiles.

"You know, trying to lay low."

"I thought you said you needed to get new covers," he comments, like it makes some kind of sense, but she seems to get it.

"Yeah, well, I did. But this friend of mine is being a little reckless lately. It flushed me out." He smiles.

"A friend, uh? I think you might be-" he starts saying, but she cuts him off.

"In the wrong business. I know. Maybe you're right."

"And maybe that's not such a bad thing." She shrugs at his words.

"Could be worse" she says, and I look at them, enjoying the little inside jokes, even if I'm not a part of them. I love that Steve still has this sort of thing with someone. It's nice to know that he'll still have people who care about him when I'm not around anymore. When my time really is up.

Steve sighs, and I can see that the time for small chat is over. "How's Tony doing?" my throat closes up immediately at the mention of his name. I can't even imagine what it must feel like for him to have me here.

"He's holding up. I don't see him much, but he's a big boy, he'll get over it." She takes a moment and then asks the question I've already asked. "Why did you even tell him?"

"Come on, Nat. You know I couldn't keep lying," his eyes dart to me for a fraction of a second. "To either of them." I roll my eyes.

"Never should've let me stay in the first place," I murmur between my teeth. I didn't mean for my tone to be so bitter, but I couldn't help it either, because I know it's too late now. Steve makes a face at me, he looks hurt for a second, so I give him a shrug. He sighs and turns back to Natasha.

"You got news for us?" He asks, and her expression changes on the spot, turning serious immediately.

"Some of the guys on the team aren't so eager to work with you guys." He nods, and it looks like he was expecting something like that.

"It's OK, I figured as much. What's the fallout?" I take a step back and raise my hands to interrupt them. This seems like a conversation they should be having without me here.

"Hey, I'll give you guys a couple minutes, OK?"

"Buck, you don't have to leave." I shake my head and dismiss his worried expression with a wave of my hand as I start backing up.

"Don't worry, I'll go take a shower. I do need it," he hesitates for a second, but then nods.

"OK, man. You can get some clean clothes from the lockers. Mine's the third one from the left. I left it open for you."

"Great, thanks." I force a smile before turning around to start walking away.

I hear Natasha letting out a quiet "Oh", and then there's a smile on her voice: "So… 'shared life experiences', uh?" she sounds amused.

"Ugh, shut up," Steve's joking now, I can tell.

"And the lip piercing was too much? Really?" she keeps going. I have no idea what she's talking about, but I don't get to hear Steve's reply. I'm already out of earshot.