It was roughly five in the morning when Natasha's phone rang. Thankfully, she was already awake. There wasn't much sleep to be had, as waiting to hear back from Max had created quite the stir of nerves in her. She'd tossed and turned in bed and then had some unfortunate dreams about her past when she finally did manage to fall asleep. As a result, when she woke up around 3:30 AM, she decided to stay up. Maybe Wanda would at least be able to get some sleep without Natasha shaking the mattress every two seconds.
She slid out of bed, put on a warm, green cardigan and headed outside with her computer and her phone. The still, dark; quiet night air was almost eerie. There was scarcely a car heard going down the street. It felt like the whole world was sleeping, but her ringing phone soon reminded her that it was anything but.
"Max," she said quietly upon answering. "What do you have?" She took a breath and tried to ignore the fluttering feeling in her stomach.
"Good morning to you, too." The man teased from the other end of the line. "Your target has been spending an ample amount of time a place called 'Lady Angelique's.'" Max informed her. "Looks like it's some kind of fetish studio."
Natasha furrowed her brow in confusion. "So he's… letting off some steam at a brothel?"
Max chuckled. "Hard to tell. We can't exactly get eyes inside the building. I was able to get a photo of him leaving, though. He comes and goes through a back entrance. Looks like the same woman escorts him out every night. Sending you the photo now."
Natasha pulled up her email on her computer and loaded the image. Garrett was seen with a tall woman with ear-length brown hair with deep red frosted tips. She had a slightly muscular build and a strong jawline. Something about her eyes looked very familiar.
"She goes by the name of Lady Dust," Max said. "Their resident, 'Rubber Diva'. Specializes in latex and electricity."
"What a lovely combo." Natasha mused. She pulled up the establishment's website and found a sort of profile page for all of the ladies in its employ. Lady Dust was a dominatrix who liked to enforce pain and perversion. Someone who specialized in hurting people in very specific ways and got paid to do so.
"Looks like I went into the wrong profession." Natasha noted.
"Never too late for a change, Fraulein." Max joked.
"Do you know her real name?" Nat asked.
"Nein," he replied. "Their real names are withheld for privacy purposes."
"Hm," Natasha tapped her finger to her chin. "Shouldn't be too hard to run her through facial recognition. How many times have they met?"
"Two so far."
"Alright," Natasha said. "Keep a tail on him. Let me know if he leaves the district. Thanks, Max."
Natasha ended the call and stared at the leather-clad diva on her computer screen. Her blue eyes were so light they were almost gray. They stared at Natasha, threatening to pull forth a memory that just wouldn't come. Why did she look so damn familiar?
"I have to admit," Steve's tired voice sounded from behind her, "this is… not what I expected to see you looking at on your computer at five in the morning."
Natasha jumped a bit, turning around in her seat quickly and looking at Steve with wide eyes. He stood just outside the door, barefoot, in a pair of gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt. His unkempt hair said he'd just gotten out of bed. Color rushed to her cheeks. "It's not…" she began, but could only huff out a frustrated breath. She furrowed her brow at him and tried again. "What are you doing up?"
"Couldn't sleep." He said as he walked up to her chair. "Thought I heard you talking, so I thought I'd come check it out. Make sure everything is okay." Now it was he who was furrowing his brow, blue eyes zeroing in on the computer screen in Natasha's lap.
"Is everything okay?" He asked, a smirk threatening to form on his face.
Natasha tore her gaze away from him and looked back to the computer. "Garrett has been meeting with this woman at a… local kink studio."
Steve furrowed his brow in confusion. "A what now?"
"Trust me, you're probably better off not knowing. Regardless, I don't think he's there for fun. Something tells me he's not exactly the leisurely type."
Steve pulled up a chair and sat down beside her. "So, what do you think he's doing?"
"That's what I'm trying to figure out." Natasha said as she pulled up the facial recognition software on her computer. "This woman… she seems familiar for some reason."
Steve moved his eyes from the computer to Natasha. He could see dark shadows under her eyes. It seemed like she had been out here for awhile, or at the very least she'd been awake for awhile. Even before they'd all turned in for the night, she had seemed restless. Now, she was staring at the computer with intensity, her eyes straining in the darkness around them. The glow from the computer screen cast a slight blue tint on her face.
"Have you slept?" He asked.
Natasha slid her gaze over to him, confused. "Some," she said. "I mean… I tried." She looked at the computer again. "It didn't work so well."
"You wanna talk about it?"
Again, she glanced at him. Her immediate reaction was to laugh, though she wasn't quite sure why. Steve was being serious; she knew that. She also considered telling him no, because that was her instinct. It was natural for her to just keep things to herself, buried deep and locked away for none the world to see. She had trusted Steve with a lot of things in the past, though, and so far none of that had come back to bite her in the ass. Sighing, Natasha leaned over and set her computer down on the stone floor of the patio for a moment. When she sat up again, she angled her chair a little more towards Steve.
"I've spent… a lot of time trying to wipe my slate clean," she confessed. "It's kind of starting to feel like every step forward I make is followed by two steps back."
"Garrett trying to dig up old ghosts isn't your fault." Steve reminded her.
"No, but…" Natasha shook her head and sighed. "The last thing I wanted was for any of you to be put in danger because of something from my past."
"Nat," Steve leaned forward enough to put a hand on her knee. "These things are out of your control."
Her green eyes fell to his hand for a moment. She wanted to cover it with her own hand, but she didn't. She wasn't sure why. "I know," she said. "That's the problem." She lifted her eyes to meet his. "Control was… kind of a big deal in my 'curriculum.'"
Control over herself, her enemies, her environment; every piece on the chessboard. If you controlled all of the variables, then you had all of the cards in your hand, and you could play them however you wanted.
Steve's hand gave her knee a squeeze. "You're not with those people anymore," he said gently. Natasha gave him a small smile, which must have meant he had said something right. Using that, he continued.
"We're a team," he told her. "We're in this together, and we'll figure it all out together. You can't worry about the things you can't control."
Realizing his hand had been on her knee for quite some time, Steve decided to remove it. He cleared his throat a bit awkwardly and slid his hand back to his lap, sitting up straight once more. He noticed Natasha rub the spot on her knee where his hand had been, and he wondered if he'd made the right decision in putting it there or pulling it away. He lifted his eyes back to her face, though, not wanting to draw attention to it. He offered her a little smile.
"And as far as that slate goes… it's clean, Natasha. You've done more good for this world than you realize."
"I've also done a lot of bad." She said softly.
"It doesn't have to be a balancing act." Steve replied. "We can't let our pasts compete with our present.
Natasha looked at him, unable to help the small smirk pulling at one corner of her mouth. "Were you always this wise or did that come with age?"
Steve gave her a look.
"I know," she said. "I'm sorry. I try to let things go; it's just… difficult when they keep rearing their ugly heads like this."
"Let them serve as reminders of how far you've come," Steve suggested. "You don't have to prove yourself to anyone. We know who you are, Nat."
Another smile pulled at her lips. This one was softer; more genuine. "Yeah," she said. "You do." At least one of them did, anyway.
A chime from the computer told Natasha that facial recognition had found something. She leaned over and picked the device off the ground, setting it in her lap once more. As she pulled up the file, her face fell.
"Son of a bitch," she said. She looked at Steve. "Literally," she told him. "Look at this."
He leaned over to take a look. A file for a man named Evan McMasters had been pulled up. White, English, thirty years old, and the son of the deceased Ian McMasters. He'd grown up being passed around from boarding school to boarding school, and then enlisted in British Special Forces as soon as he turned eighteen. He'd served eight years in Special Air Service, working recon and counter-terrorism in Iraq. His discharge was listed as "medical". Apparently, Evan had gotten some pretty extensive cosmetic surgery without sanction, and found himself out of a job because of it. Seeing his pre-surgery photos, though, it was easy to see why he looked so familiar. Evan had been a spitting image of his old man.
"Okay…" Steve said slowly, not quite connecting the dots. "So Evan is now Lady Dust." He looked at Natasha. "Why is Garrett so interested in her?"
Nat sighed. "Evan's father was the CEO of Gynacon."
"He's the one you…"
Natasha nodded before he could finish his question. She closed the computer, unable to look at the face any longer. "Evan grew up without a father because of me," she said. Her eyes fell to her hands in her lap. Sometimes, she could still see the blood on them. "Seems like a compelling enough reason to join Garrett's cause."
"His father was a monster," Steve told her. "Having him around might not have made Evan's life any better." He angled his chair to better face Natasha and then reached over to gently curl a finger beneath her chin. He lifted her head, turning her face towards him.
"Natasha," he said, "this isn't your fault."
He held her gaze without flinching, trying to convey just how true his words were. He needed her to know that he believed them, so maybe she would believe them for herself. Her green eyes danced slowly between his, and Steve could see the little glimmer of sadness behind them. It was hard to catch in the dim, gray light of morning, but it was there. Sometimes, he could feel it emanating off of her like a furnace. Natasha's heart was bigger than she would ever realize.
"The sun will be up soon." She said, not acknowledging his previous statement. It had Steve sighing, his hand dropping away from her chin. Before it could go too far, though, Natasha captured it by wrapping her fingers around his wrist. She held it on top of the arm of her chair for a moment, her eyes on his.
"Maybe... we can watch the sunrise together?" She asked quietly.
Steve was caught off-guard by her request. It stunned him into stillness and silence. He watched a small, almost hopeful smile tug at the corners of Natasha's full lips, and something inside of him melted a little. He took a deep breath, chest inflating, and released it slowly out his nose. Then, he nodded and smiled a little, himself.
"Yeah," he said. "I think that'd be nice." Steve turned his head and looked over his shoulder. The roof behind him wasn't very high, but it would provide a better vantage than the fence-blocked view from the yard.
"Come on," he said as he stood up. He grabbed his chair and carried it over toward the house. Natasha followed, watching as he set the chair down and then proceeded to stand on it. With one, simple jump, Steve hopped up into the air and onto the roof a few feet above. Natasha stood on the ground with her hands on her hips, her head tilted to the side in both thought and quiet observance.
"Not all of us have three foot verticals." She commented.
Regardless, she climbed up into the chair. Then, she jumped, placing herself high enough to grab onto the edge of the roof and swing herself up. It took a little longer than Steve's single jump, but she moved with a quiet and fluid grace that the soldier could never hope to achieve. They walked quietly across the roof, moving to the east-facing side of the house, where they sat down next to each other. Steve let his legs dangle over the edge of the roof, while Natasha pulled her knees to her chest. Color was just starting to bleed over the horizon as the sun began to peek up into view. The slow breeze that drifted by held onto the lingering coolness of the night. Natasha pulled her cardigan a little more tightly around her slender figure.
Steve watched her for a moment, thinking about everything that had happened over the last couple of weeks. He thought about Peggy, and he thought about what Sam told him. He focused on the way he felt, now, in this very moment. Steve focused on the way he cared for Natasha. He waited for that familiar feeling of guilt to creep in alongside it; that sense that he was dishonoring Peggy in some way. It didn't come, though. There was only stillness and peace as he watched the first few rays of the morning sun cast its warm light on Natasha's face. Turning his face forward once more, Steve slowly reached out and wrapped an arm around Natasha's shoulders.
It was like having a blanket wrapped around her. An added layer of warmth immediately settled itself over Natasha's shoulders, her whole body really, and had her relaxing a bit more. It pulled a slow, quiet yawn from her lips and had her head falling over to rest against Steve's shoulder. Her eyelids felt warm and heavy. She swore she could've closed them and fallen asleep just sitting there. She didn't, though, because the sunrise was spilling beautiful oranges and pinks into the blue sky, and it really was something to see. Natasha had seen a lot of sunrises in a lot of different places all over the world, but how many of them had been enjoyed alongside someone she really, truly cared for? This was nice. It was really nice.
As the sky woke up, so did the city. More and more people and cars were soon seen milling about the street. The noise of everyday life slowly began filtering up to where Steve and Natasha sat. Below them, sounds could be heard inside the house that said Sam and Wanda were stirring. The smell of coffee wafted up from an open window in the kitchen, soon followed by the intoxicating smell of sizzling sausage. The morning news could be heard from the outdated television in the living room. The volume was too loud. Sam must have been watching.
"We should probably head inside." Natasha said quietly. Her voice sounded a bit reluctant. For some reason, that made Steve smile.
"Yeah," he agreed, even though he was just as reluctant.
After a few more seconds, he allowed his arm to fall away from Nat's shoulders. She, in turn, slowly lifted her head from his. She looked at him, giving him a small, appreciative smile before standing up. She faced the day, stretching her arms above her head and releasing another yawn. The wind rustled through her cardigan, causing it to ripple behind her a bit like a cape. It tossed her short blonde hair away from her face, waking her up a bit more. Satisfied, she lowered her arms and then extended one hand down to Steve. He grabbed it and pulled himself to his feet. They walked back to the back end of the house, where they hopped down to ground level once more. Natasha collected her laptop and followed Steve inside.
"Good morning," Wanda greeted them from the kitchen.
Sam wandered in from the living room. "Were you on the roof?" He asked them, raising a brow in suspicion.
"Hm… I don't know." Nat said as she set her laptop down on the kitchen table. "Maybe Santa's come early this year."
"What it's too early for is your sarcasm, Romanoff." Sam said. He went to pour himself a cup of coffee. He watched Natasha wake up her computer and saw the case file on the screen. "I take it you found something?"
Natasha took a deep breath. As she exhaled, she could feel the slow, warm; sleepy tendrils of her morning spent with Steve slowly falling away. They were being replaced by the almost-cold awareness that came with focusing back on the mission. There was no room for both, it would seem. She cast one last look at Steve, reluctantly watching the way the hard focus slid back into place on his handsome features. It was time. He knew it, too. Sighing, Natasha returned her attention to the computer screen. As Sam and Wanda fell into place behind her, she caught them up to speed.
"I don't think we can consider this coincidence any longer." Natasha said when she had finished.
"Not that we ever did," Sam pointed out.
"So, what should we do?" Wanda asked. She had a towel draped over her shoulder, and she was anxiously rolling some fraying threads between her fingers.
"I think we need to find Garrett," Nat said. "We need to take the fight to him before he can finish doing… whatever the hell it is he's trying to do."
Steve agreed. "The longer he's on the streets, the bigger threat he poses. We know enough about what he wants to know that he's a danger to the public. He needs to be stopped, along with anyone who's stupid enough to work with him."
"So…" Sam said, "we go to Munich, knock down this sex dungeon, and make it home in time for dinner. Sounds perfectly normal."
Natasha shook her head. "We have to get Garrett someplace secluded. We can't risk innocent people getting hurt."
"What do you suggest?" Sam asked.
Natasha turned in her seat to look at them, specifically Steve. He wasn't going to like this one. "I can have Max leave a false leak. Tip Garrett off that I know he's been looking into my past, and I'm not happy about it. We'll let him think I'm coming to settle some scores."
"You want to use yourself as bait?" Steve asked. Natasha was right. He wasn't a fan. "Nat, we don't even know how many people he has on his payroll. He could have a whole squadron for all we know."
"Which is why you won't be far," she said. "I just need to enter the city alone. That's all he needs to see. If you three come in after, you can make up that distance pretty easily."
Sam folded his arms across his chest, taking a step back from the table. He straightened his back a bit and looked at Steve. "This may be our best play, Cap." He said. "If we want Garrett and want to avoid letting the whole world know where we are, this is the way to do it."
"We'll be smart," Natasha assured him. "We'll be careful." She'd already had her lesson in recklessness. She wasn't planning on repeating it anytime soon.
Steve sighed and looked at Wanda. "What do you think about all this?" He asked. Sometimes, Sam and Natasha were like two kids asking for permission to shave the dog, and Wanda was the only sensible one.
"I think it is a good plan," she said. "Letting menaces go unchecked has never worked out in our favor. Garrett is a menace. We must check him."
After several long moments, Steve finally nodded. "Alright," he said, making no attempt to hide the reluctance in his voice. "We go tonight."
Natasha smiled. "I'll get us flights into the city." She turned back to her computer and began making arrangements.
Steve turned and plucked Sam's coffee cup right out of his hand, taking a sip as he walked away. "Thanks, Sam."
"Hey!" Sam protested. "That's… that's not cool, man." He looked to Wanda, as if for some sort of backup, but she had already returned to the kitchen to finish breakfast. Sighing, Sam walked back over to the coffee pot. As he filled himself another cup, he looked over to Natasha.
"I suppose you want one of these, too?" He asked.
Natasha gave him a sweet smile that, given the look on his face, he wasn't buying. "If it's not too much trouble."
Sam rolled his eyes but filled another cup for her. He brought it over and set it down on the table next to her computer. "Your highness," he said dryly as he set the cup down.
"Thanks, Sam." Nat said. "I'll be sure to book you a seat in first class."
He mumbled something about her being "so full of shit it was turning her eyes brown" as he walked back out to the living room. Natasha chuckled quietly to herself and continued her work. She got herself an eight o'clock flight and managed to get Sam, Steve and Wanda one that was just a half hour later on a different airline. There were eight less flight time minutes, though, so it would give them about a twenty-minute window to get into the city after Natasha did. It seemed like a good enough time. Enough to make it look like she was alone, but not so much that it made the others uneasy. She meant what she said when she told them they would be careful on this one. She had no intentions of going in, guns blazing and getting herself killed. They needed this win, and Natasha needed whatever loose ends were still out there with Gynacon to be tied up. For good this time.
