Foundations


Prague, 2006.

Natasha Romanoff collapsed against the wall of an alley, taking deep, deliberate breaths of the cold night air as she looked up at the star speckled sky. Exhausted, frustrated, and hollow, with old wounds gaping wide, one thought alone reverberated within her.

I was so close!

Prague had been a mess - the sort of mess one sent in an operative of her calibre to handle. And while she'd been there, she'd crossed paths with another.

The Winter Soldier, of course, hadn't recognized her. She'd done all she could to get through to him, and she swore she'd seen some cracks beginning to form, but she hadn't had enough time! She hadn't tried to force him because, even if she could, she could only really save him if her trusted her. So, in the post-intersecting mission chaos, she'd had to let him go.

Fatigued, empty, and alone, she couldn't help but feel she'd lost him all over again.

"Status, Widow," a slightly tinny voice sounded through the commlink in her ear, halfway between a statement and a question.

Well, she thought, a hint of a smile gracing her lips at the almost imperceptible tightness in the concerned man's voice, Maybe not quite alone.

"Mission complete." Focus on that, she told herself. You did what you came here to do. And, now, you know it's possible to get through to him; you saw it working. He'll be that much closer to the surface the next time you see him. You'll get him back someday.

"Your status, Romanoff," the voice in her ear returned, this time with a hint of fond exasperation, and Natasha's burgeoning smile widened.

"It's been a he%% of a day, Phil," she admitted with a sigh, "but I'm okay." It was nice, she reflected, to have a handler who cared, someone to trust and rely on. It had taken her a while to learn how that worked, but she'd had years at S.H.I.E.L.D. to figure it out, and Coulson had been patient. She'd gone on numerous solo missions, like the one she'd just finished, as well as operations for which she'd been partnered with Clint, and she'd slowly - despite the cynicism she'd learned through loss and pain - let herself believe again, believe in S.H.I.E.L.D. and its agents and its mission. She was almost happy, in fact.

There was only one thing missing.


The Winter Soldier was preoccupied as he returned to base, struggling to make sense of the fiery woman, both foreign and familiar, who'd called him by the name in his broken-kaleidoscope dreams.

How do you know that name?

I'll tell you sometime.

What makes you think there will be a 'sometime?'

We're in the same business, and we're the best at what we do. You really think we won't cross paths again?

Maybe, he thought, just maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing.