Goodbyes were had somewhere outside of Ensenada, Mexico. The plan was that Scott and Clint would be able to cross the border up near Mexicali and make their way up into San Diego before going their separate ways. Scott lived in California and hopefully wouldn't have far to go before reuniting with his family. Clint's situation would be up in the air, Natasha knew, but she hoped that he would at least be able to find some time with Laura and the kids before he was inevitably tracked down by the feds. She knew that this was for the best, but it was always difficult saying goodbye to her old friend.

"Take care of each other," Clint reminded her, as if she needed it.

"Give the kids a kiss for me," Nat said with a small smile. "And tell Nathaniel he's still a traitor."

They were parked at an overlook along the coastal highway. Scott and Clint drove off in a clunker they'd acquired a few miles back, leaving Nat, Steve, Sam and Wanda with the minivan they'd "borrowed" a few miles outside of where they'd landed the jet. Natasha leaned against its rust-spotted bumper, arms folded across her chest, and watched the waves lapping calmly in the ocean. Her red curls were tossed carelessly in the warm breeze as she took a moment to breathe in the salty ocean air. Wanda sat on the guardrail, legs swaying slowly as she looked out at the horizon. Sam and Steve stood somewhere in between.

"You should've gone with them, Sam." Steve was saying. His brow was furrowed; his cheeks slightly flushed from the sun. He'd removed his jacket and stood in just a t-shirt and jeans. As much as he said he hated the cold, Natasha thought Steve handled it much better than the heat.

"With your record of service, they might have struck you some kind of deal."

Sam's eyes were unreadable behind the dark sunglasses he wore, but Natasha could see a smirk bubbling to the surface, pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah," he said, shoulders shaking with a chuckle, "pretty sure you've got the best record of service out of anyone I've ever met. Look how much good that did you."

Wilson tucked his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and turned his face toward the ocean. "Nah, I think I'll stick around. There's plenty of work to do, and besides…" he turned his head and looked over his shoulder toward Natasha. "What kind of friend would I be if I forced Romanoff to put up with you on her own?"

Natasha wore a half smirk, perked a brow and shrugged one shoulder as if to say "he's right". Wanda moved, then. She swung her legs back around the edge of the guardrail and stepped onto solid ground once more. The tail of her red leather jacket flapped in the breeze behind her.

"I'll stay as well," she told them again. "This world has shown that there is no place in it for someone like me. Except for right here."

She nodded and gave them all a small smile that Natasha could feel the sadness in. She couldn't possibly fathom what it was like to be experimented on the way Wanda had been, but she knew a thing or two about what it was like to be treated like a weapon instead of a person. To be locked up and beaten down day in and day out, all for a result. All for a stat or a number or some piece of empirical data that would satisfy someone who didn't deserve satisfaction. The world had taken Wanda's home from her. It'd taken her brother from her, as well. If she felt some sort of kinship here with the three of them, well… that was a feeling Natasha could understand. She stepped away from the van and unfolded her arms from across her chest. Standing in front of Wanda, she placed a hand on the woman's shoulder and offered a smile.

"You do belong here," Natasha told her. "I may not have much to compare it to, but when it comes to family," she looked over at Sam and Steve. "I'd say this is a pretty good one."

That statement held a surprising amount of weight to it. Steve realized it was because Natasha was the one speaking it. The Black Widow, the wearer of many masks and impenetrable armor, was saying they were family. And she meant it, too. Steve could see it. He'd been close enough to those deep green eyes to see the way uncertainty would flicker there from time to time, even when she thought her act was bulletproof. He'd been close enough to see the way her gaze held firm in absolute confidence, too. This was one of those times. He found himself oddly honored to have gotten through those walls, barbed-wire fences and mine fields the Red Room had forced her to build around herself. To be considered trustworthy enough to make it past the barrier. Things may have looked pretty rough around the exterior, but once you got past all that, there was actually something quite strong; quite beautiful, housed inside. He gave a small smile and a nod.

"Nat's right," he said. "Wherever we are, you're welcome with us."

"Yeah," Sam said, "just as long as that 'wherever' is somewhere by the water with a drink in my hand."

Steve chuckled and shook his head. "We aren't here for a vacation."

"C'mon, Cap!" Sam exclaimed. "We've got miles of coastline stretching out in front of her." He turned toward the ocean and spread both his arms out wide. "Margaritas, suntans; bikinis! And all you can think about is work?" Sam shook his head.

"I have never been in the ocean." Wanda chimed in.

"See?!" Sam dropped one arm and held the other one out toward Wanda instead. "At least let the woman live a little."

Steve cast a look over at Natasha.

"Don't look at me," she said. "You know my stance on bikinis."

Steve rolled his eyes. If Natasha thought the scar on her abdomen from the slug she'd taken from the Winter Soldier disqualified her from swimming suits, she was insane. He didn't say anything, though. Instead, he looked back over to Wanda and Sam.

"That decline doesn't look too steep," he said, nodding toward the guardrail and the slope that descended from it. "If you wanna get your toes in the sand, you've gotta earn it. Either way, we leave in ten."

Wanda and Sam exchanged looks.

"No Falcon suit," Steve added.

"Fun sucker," Sam grumbled.

Regardless, he and Wanda were heading for the guardrail and then stepping over it. They headed down the sloping hillside toward the water. Natasha was pretty sure she caught a glimpse of red that suggested Wanda might have been using her powers to give herself a little help with the decline, but she didn't bring any attention to it. She tucked her hands into her back pockets and took a few steps forward, bringing herself next to Steve. They watched Sam and Wanda head downhill in silence for a few moments.

"That was nice, what you said." Steve said, looking at Natasha. "About family."

Natasha shrugged. "Some people just need to be reminded that they belong every once in a while."

"Sounds like you're speaking from experience," he said.

Natasha looked at him, her brow furrowing for a quick second. A look passed before her eyes, like she was fighting against some instinct to be angry or defensive at what he said. She knew that there was no harm meant by the statement, though. She could see it in the softness on Steve's face and the kindness in his blue eyes. Steve could be a hard man with a resolve firmer than a steel plate, but he was also incredibly empathetic. Understanding, even when he had no reason to be. Natasha sighed and allowed herself to soften a bit, too.

"I spent the majority of my life being told I had no place in this world," she told him. "And believing it. And even though no one has specifically told me otherwise," she chuckled, "the years have started to make me feel a bit differently. S.H.I.E.L.D., the Avengers… it started to feel like I'd found my niche, you know?"

Steve frowned a bit, despite himself. He felt responsible for taking Natasha out of that niche. "I'm sorry," he said with a shake of his head. "You shouldn't have had to leave all that. You should still be with Stark-"

"I'm not so sure Tony even wants to be with Tony right now," Nat pointed out. "Besides, I didn't have to do anything. I made a choice." Her green eyes held Steve's for a few seconds. "I still think I made the right one."

The softness of her smile, the colorful life in her cheeks; the confident light in her eyes was impossible to ignore. Steve had always known Natasha was beautiful- it would take a blind fool not to realize that- but it wasn't the outward appearance he found himself struck by now. It was the beautiful person inside that had been slowly coming out, like a butterfly from a cocoon, over the years that gave him pause. She emerged cautiously, step by step; carefully observing the world around her to make sure it was a safe space to be in. A place that wouldn't crush her wings the second she spread them. It stirred a certain feeling in Steve that he hadn't felt since…

Natasha's phone started chirping in her pocket. "It's Fury," she said before she even retrieved the device.

"How do you know that?" Steve asked.

"Because he's the only one who has this number." She headed back to the van to take the call. "Fury," she said as she slid into the front passenger seat. "Miss me already?"

"Like a hole in the head, Romanoff." He teased. "I see the Raft had a near-catastrophic systems failure with one of the flood doors. You wouldn't happen to have anything to do with that, would you?"

"Not exactly," she said. "Is this my heads up phone call?"

"Not exactly," Fury said back. "I need your help."

The seriousness of his tone had Natasha at close attention. Fury went on to explain that Agent Phil Coulson had been kidnapped. Apparently his staged death and relocation hadn't been enough to keep him safe. A former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent by the name of John Garrett, who had defected and gone rogue several years ago and had been believed dead for two years, now, was believed to be at the center of the kidnapping. Fury feared that Garrett took Coulson in the hopes of getting information out of him about a tabled cybernetic testing procedure called Project: Deathlok. The project had been initiated and administered by a Hydra cell within S.H.I.E.L.D., and, when it was discovered, it was immediately disbanded.

"So, more S.H.I.E.L.D. secrets in need of protecting," Natasha said.

"This isn't about secrets, Romanoff. This is about protecting our own. Coulson is a good agent and a damn good man. I owe it to him to get him home safely."

"Why don't you ask one of the 'registered heroes' for help?"

Fury scoffed. "You might be surprised to find out that all that paperwork the heroes have to sign doesn't exactly fly through the system. It takes just as long to get their 'permits' as it does to get your damn picture taken at the BMV. S.H.I.E.L.D. is, of course, in full cooperation with the Accords, but this case isn't exactly on their radar right now."

"Full cooperation," Natasha repeated, unconvinced. "Right." She sighed. The fact that this John Garrett guy had taken Coulson at all meant he thought that Coulson had the knowledge he was looking for. Which meant that, whatever this tabled "project" had been, its secrets were still circulating around somewhere inside of S.H.I.E.L.D.

"Damnit, Fury." Natasha sighed again, pinching the bridge of her nose. "When are you guys going to learn your lesson?"

"Listen, Romanoff," Fury was quick to reply. "There are a lot of things that S.H.I.E.L.D. should have burned to the ground back in the day, but I wasn't the only one making those calls. Some things are out of even my hands."

Natasha wasn't sure she bought that, but she didn't say anything about it.

"I need someone I can trust on this." Fury said.

"I know…" Natasha swiveled her gaze to the side, where she saw Steve watching with a worried expression where she'd left him standing. "Steve's not going to like this."

"Yeah, well tell the Golden Boy he'd like things a lot less if he had the U.N. breathing down his neck. Which he doesn't, by the way, because yours truly may or may not have submitted a false lead that currently has a group of headhunters freezing their asses off in the Swiss Alps."

"Alright," Natasha said as she stepped out of the van. "Send me all the information you have."

"Already done," Fury replied. "Bring Coulson home, Romanoff. I'm counting on you."

The line went dead without any exchange of goodbyes. It wasn't a surprise. Fury wasn't exactly the sentimental type. Natasha slid her phone in her back pocket and walked around to the back of the van. She opened the double doors and heard Steve approach as she fished through a bag for her laptop. When she found it, Nat took a seat on the floor of the van, her feet resting on the ground outside, and rested the computer in her lap.

"What is it?" Steve asked. He stood in front of her, partially blocking out the sun and casting a shadow down on Natasha. She looked up at him, her brow furrowed to match his.

"It's Coulson," she said. "He's been taken."

She scooted over enough to allow Steve some room to take a seat next to her. He did. It wasn't exactly spacious, but it allowed him to see what she was pulling up on her laptop. Files on Garrett- mission reports, psychological reports; surgery records- were pulled up alongside the last known location of Coulson… and information on Project Deathlok. It had started out as a means to integrate cybernetic enhancements into soldiers who were wounded on the field. Garrett had been the recipient of such enhancements. When his Jeep had crashed in a minefield in the Middle East, Project Deathlok had put him together again. He was able to keep his life, but he'd lost most of his humanity in the process. Now, Garrett was looking to find whatever remnants of the project he could, presumably to make more soldiers like himself.

Unsurprisingly, this hit a little close to home for Steve. He stared at the computer screen, taking all of the information in with a less-than-pleased look on his face.

"How many more people have to suffer because of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s inability to let things go?" He said darkly.

"I know," Natasha said, looking over at him. "Trust me, I know, but… this is about Coulson. He's helped us, Steve. He's helped a lot of us in some pretty big ways. We owe it to him to-"

"I know." Steve sighed. He lifted his gaze to meet Natasha's. He watched the way her green eyes darted between his blue hues, searching. Always searching. "We'll go," Steve said. "Of course we'll go."

Natasha smiled before looking back to her computer screen. "Guess Coulson should have retired after New York."

Steve huffed out a quiet chuckle. "Retirement doesn't seem to work out so great for people like us."

"I wouldn't know," Nat said as she typed. "I've never tried."

Steve looked at her. He supposed he'd never really tried, either. He'd been fighting one war, went down in the ice and woke up decades later only to get thrown right into another one. All he'd known since he opened his eyes was fighting. He wondered what that would look like: retirement. He wondered what a person like himself would do if there wasn't a battle to be fought; a way of life to protect. What would he do? What would Natasha do? Would she continue to travel the world? Would she settle down? Would she dance?

Several seconds of feeling his eyes on her had Natasha looking up from her computer once more. She fixed Steve with her green gaze, her brow furrowed in confusion and worry. "You alright, Rogers?" She asked with a little tilt of her head. "It looks like the old turntable might be skipping."

Steve blinked a few times and cleared his throat. He shook his head and looked back down at the computer, doing his best to fight the feeling of complete ridiculousness that was creeping up the back of his neck and threatening to wrap up into his cheeks.

"Just thinking." He said. Then, he nodded toward the computer. "So, where are we headed?"

Natasha looked at him for a few seconds longer, not buying his explanation. She ultimately decided to let it go, though, and returned her gaze to the laptop.

"Bahrain," she said. "It looks like Coulson was looking into some kind of," she leaned closer to read the exact quote from the case file, "'suspicious natural phenomena' when he disappeared. His subdermal GPS tracked him a few miles outside of the Adliya neighborhood on the northern tip of the island. After that, it goes dark. Garrett must have removed it."

"Do you think they'd leave the island?" Steve asked.

Natasha shook her head. "I don't think they'd want to risk being in the air, knowing that S.H.I.E.L.D. will have people looking for Coulson. They'll think they're safer on the ground. More places to hide."

"Well, then, I guess we better start seeking." Steve said.

Natasha rolled her eyes and groaned. "Jeeze, Rogers. Your jokes are almost as outdated as your wardrobe."

"You know what, Romanoff…"

She fixed him with a half smirk, unphased by the faux stern look he was giving her. Ultimately, Steve just sighed and shook his head. He leaned his shoulder into Natasha's, pushing her to the side a bit as a small means of retaliation as he stood up and out of the van. She watched him with that same smirk still plastered on her face. She had to give him credit. Steve took her teasing pretty well. God knows he'd had to put up with enough of it over the years. Sometimes she just couldn't help it. The reactions she got showed Natasha the man beneath the mantle. Steve Rogers, the slightly awkward guy from Brooklyn; not always the fearless leader they all knew. She was just as fond as both of those personas, though. They'd both been just as kind to her over the years.

"Guess we better rally the troops." Natasha said, closing her laptop. She slid it back into the bag it was in and nestled it safely into place with some other things. Then, she stood up out of the van and closed the back doors once more.

She tucked a few loose strands of red hair behind her ear and walked over to the guardrail. Her sharp gaze peered down the hillside and to the water's edge, where Sam was holding Wanda's boots so the woman could experience the feeling of her toes in sand and water. Wanda was holding her auburn locks in one hand and looking down at her feet. Natasha could just barely see the smile on Wanda's face. It almost looked like disbelief. She felt a small pang of guilt for having to interrupt what was clearly a good moment, but Coulson's life was at stake. They couldn't let that hang in the balance because of some water.

Natasha tucked the tips of her index and middle fingers between her lips and let out a shrill whistle. It got the attention of Sam and Wanda easily enough. When they turned to look up her way, Natasha waved one arm and then tapped the watch on her wrist. It was time to go.

By the time they made it back up to the road, Sam and Wanda seemed to know that something was up. Maybe Wanda was reading minds, or maybe she was just reading mannerism. Regardless, she had a far more serious look on her face than she wore a few minutes ago. Natasha informed the two of them of the job they had to do. Whether or not they were as personally invested in the task as Nat and Steve were, Wanda and Sam seemed ready and willing to accept it. Despite his jokes, everyone knew that Sam hadn't really stuck around for a vacation. He was there because there was still a job to do. That job, right now, was to get Agent Coulson back home. Alive.

So, they piled back into the van. Natasha occupied the driver's seat, with Steve taking the passenger seat behind her. Sam and Wanda sat in the back. With no working air conditioning, they were forced to cruise the roadways with their windows down. The noise kept talking to a minimum, but no one seemed particularly conversational at the moment anyway. They were all thinking, preparing themselves in their own way, for the mission ahead. If this John Garrett guy was as dangerous as his case files made him out to be, they would have their work cut out for them. It was a race against the clock to find Coulson, hopefully before something terrible happened to him. Something that couldn't be undone.