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 revamped. Some scenes will be removed completely. Others will be changed to better conform to the MCU movies. Also, parts 2 and 3 will be eliminated and the chapters posted all under one title.

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 36

Natasha pulled away from James when her phone beeped to let her know there was a message. Without looking at him, she checked and found a text from Clint. As always, short and to the point.

*9-1-1!*

Clint never used 9-1-1 unless it was a genuine emergency, and the number he called from was the one used exclusively for maintaining contact with his family. Concerned that something had happened to Laura or one of the kids, Natasha hit speed dial, pacing while she anxiously waited for her best friend to answer the phone. "Oh, Laura. It's Nat. What's wrong? I got a text from Clint."

"Nothing's wrong, Nat. We wanted you to be the first to know." A happy sigh came through the line. "We're having another baby number three!"

Natasha paused in mid pace, filled with excitement. "That's wonderful, Laura!"

There was a pause while Laura shushed the kids. "We talked it over, and if it's a girl, we'd like to name her after you."

Her smile got wider. Though he was trying to be quiet, Natasha still heard James cross the wooden floor and go into his room. "Oh wow. I'm honored." James passed her to go into the cabin. "I have to go. Tell Clint I'll call him in a few days, and give the kids a hug for me."

She ended the call and went into her room for clean clothes then to take a shower. It took a couple of washes to get all the twigs and leaves out of her hair, and she emerged feeling better than she had in a while. Natasha did a little victory dance on her way to the kitchen to decide what to start dinner.

A few minutes later, she heard James go into the bathroom and the shower came on. She still hadn't made a decision when he came out. His bedroom door didn't close, and she turned to find him standing in the hallway. "You're smiling again."

Until that moment, Natasha hadn't realized she smiled so infrequently that James felt the need to comment on it. She held up the phone. "Clint and his wife are having another baby." James seemed uncertain of his response. "If it's a girl, they're naming her after me."

"You seem excited."

Grasping his hand, she took a step closer. "I am excited. It's an honor to have someone name their child after you."

He thought that over. "Do you think President Buchanan was honored that I was named after him?"

That startled a snort out of Natasha. "I'm sure he would have been, if he hadn't died almost fifty years before you were born."

Natasha laid her phone on the table and went back to the kitchen with James following. Apparently he wasn't ready to end this particular conversation. "Who were you named after?"

One shoulder lifted and dropped as she started water for tea. "No one as far as I know. My parents died in a fire when I was seven, and shortly after, I was taken to the Red Room."

"Have you been to their graves?"

"No. Sentimentality had no place in the 2R facility. The matron, Madam B, told us that our lives began the day we arrived, and anything that happened before had no significance. Family photos were destroyed, as were toys and other keepsakes. Friendships among the girls, and especially between the girls and the staff, were strictly forbidden. Any breech of that edict resulted in severe punishment for both parties."

To keep from seeing his pity, Natasha looked out the window. It was open just a crack to let in the breeze. She shivered. In just a few brief moments, she'd gone from elated to glum.

She could still feel James standing behind her and wondered what he was thinking. Natasha turned the stove off and lifted the kettle. But before she could pour the water into cups, it was taken from her. She looked over her shoulder at James, and though he said nothing, she could see empathy in his eyes. A wave of something that felt like affection caused her to look away.

James waited for her to move to pour the hot water into the cups. Natasha pulled out a chair and sat down, her head propped on her palm, and her eyes staring at the table top. She looked up when a cup came into her line of vision. Smiling her thanks, she brought it to her lips as James joined her. Though he too kept his head down as if the tabletop were the most interesting thing he'd ever seen, she knew he was watching her.

Swirling the last of the tea in her cup, Natasha looked for a pattern in the leaves, seeing only a jumble of brownish-green that meant nothing. She went to the sink to rinse out the cup. With her back to him, James asked, "Will you have children some day?"

Hanging her head, Natasha took a deep breath and let it out. "I'm not able to have children of my own, and my lifestyle precludes adoption." To forestall any more inquiries, she went into her room and shut the door. To calm herself, she moved into one of the more complicated Tai Chi routines she preferred, and soon, she felt somewhat better.

Her appetite was gone, but James still needed to be fed. When she came out again, she found her companion sitting on the sofa eating a sandwich and watching the a James Bond movie.

Instead of closeting herself in her room, Natasha took her usual seat at the opposite end of the sofa, her knees pulled up to her chest. Bond had just met up with Manuela, his contact in Rio de Janeiro, when James muted the sound. He put his plate on the coffee table and turned to face her. Before he even opened his mouth, she knew what he was going to say.

"Why did you do it?"

"Kiss you? To show prove I don't hate you. Just don't expect it every day." James seemed to have more to say, but didn't. He turned the sound back on and they watched the rest of the movie in silence.

~~O~~

James concentrated on the movie as much as he could with Natasha sitting just a few feet away. He has always been aware of her as a woman, even more so lately. That's why it annoyed him that she'd kissed him to prove a point. It hadn't felt like that to him. If that's all it was, then why had she closed her eyes? Why had she sighed when their lips touched? Why had she rubbed her lips against his?

He'd been startled when it happened he hadn't thought to respond until it was almost too late. What would Natasha have done if he had taken the kiss farther? Wrapped her in his arms and held her close?

When Natasha moved away, James wanted to beg her to stay. Then, she was gone and he wanted her to come back.

Perhaps it was time for them to return to the city before anything happened they couldn't take back. The thought had been in his mind for a while. He almost felt ready to confront Steve, to present himself as his long lost friend. He had Natasha to thank for that. How could he express his appreciation for all she'd done? A kiss was out of the question, but beyond that, he had no ideas. A simple thank you wasn't nearly enough.

Secret SHIELD Training Base

Standing in the sunshine, hands shoved in his pockets, Steve waited for the quinjet to land. When the hatch opened, he was there to greet the pilot. They shook hands. "Thanks for coming."

"No problem. When you don't have the skills to get the job done, you call an expert."

The men headed inside, Steve leading the way to a small conference room off the main entrance. "Right. Give your girlfriend my apologies for the interruption."

Clint tugged at his ear. "Don't have a girlfriend."

"You live alone?"

The archer snorted, one eyebrow moving upward a fraction of an inch. "Didn't say that."

Deciding that asking anymore questions would only give Clint yet another opportunity to embarrass him, Steve took a seat. He knew Maria wouldn't want her personal life to become fodder for the rumor mill, yet he needed advice if he was to help her heal the relationship with her father. Clint could be trusted with the information, if he didn't know already. "What do you know about Maria's family situation?"

Clint crossed his arms and sat back in his chair, the ankle of one leg resting on the knee of the other. "Her mother died when she was born, and she was raised by her father. He's a corporate attorney with a prestigious law firm in Chicago. They've only spoken one time in the last fifteen years. What her father does and doesn't know about her job is anybody's guess. Why the interest?"

Steve nodded while rubbing his hands together, not surprised that Clint had full disclosure. There had been talk of a dalliance many years ago when Clint first started with SHIELD, but he hadn't given it credence given the archer's penchant for being nosy. "He's been calling and texting the past few weeks."

He had Clint's attention now. The archer's curiosity would push him to find the answer, and while Steve wanted to know as well, he felt it was best for all concerned that they-he and Maria-get the information from the source.

"You want to know how to get her to speak to her father."

"I have a theory as to why the sudden need to make contact. However, it can only be confirmed by Mr. Hill."

Leaning forward, Clint rested his clasped hands on the table. "Got it. So here's what you do…"

~~O~~

"Commander Hill, could I have a word?" Jogging to catch up to Maria, Steve came alongside. "In private?"

A crease appeared between her eyes at the interruption. "Of course." As they were near the barracks, Steve ushered her into his room and shut the door. Maria stood near the door, impatient to be on her way. "What's up?"

"Thanksgiving. I was thinking we could take a trip together."

The crease turned into a smile. "That's doable. Where to?"

He leaned against the wall, close enough to touch her if he wanted. "Chicago. I told your father we'd come for the holiday."

~~O~~

"You did what?" Maria flung open the door to Steve's quarters and burst into the hall.

Steve followed her to the door. He didn't shout, just said her name softly. "Maria."

She stopped, made a one-eighty, and stomped back, shoving a finger in his face. "How dare you go behind my back like that? Who told you it was a good idea?" The guilt on Steve's face answered for him. "Barton!" She took a deep breath to get herself under control, and was only partially successful. "Call and tell him we're not coming. That we have other plans. Unbreakable plans."

"Can't. I booked seats on a sold out flight. The tickets are non-refundable." Rogers crossed his arms and leaned against the door jamb. "He's expecting us the Monday before Thanksgiving. If you want to cancel, you'll have to call him yourself."

With a growl, Maria shook a fist in Steve's face and growled. "Grr! I really hate you right now."

Steve gently pushed her arm down, wrapped his fingers around her wrist and pulled her to him. "No, you don't. You love me." She looked away, and they noticed they weren't alone. Santino was standing a few feet away looking like a trapped animal.

Maria's entire demeanor changed. Her mask fell into place, and she withdrew her hand, tucking it out of sight with the other, her back and shoulders stiffening as she put a respectable distance between them. "This isn't over, Captain Rogers."

She turned on her heel and stalked away. Steve called out, "Yes, it is, Commander Hill. We're going, whether you like it or not."

Just before she disappeared around the corner, she shot back, "Not!"

Grinning, Steve turned to Santino, shrugged and went into his room. Taking out his phone, he made a call. "Tony? Steve… I need a favor… The use of one of your private jets… Monday before Thanksgiving… Two weeks… Does everyone know about Maria and me? That's because Thor's been on Asgard keeping an eye on Loki… Oh? Didn't know that… And Tony? Thanks."

Satisfied that he'd blown the theory that he couldn't lie and get away with it out of the water, Steve changed into workout clothes and headed down to the gym for a training session with his recruits. Most of his squad were A-1 material. With some additional time, the rest would be battle ready too. He hadn't wanted to do it, but he already had to cut one guy loose. SHIELD couldn't afford to have agents and attack, infiltration and rescue squads who weren't the best of the best.

~~O~~

Angered that Steve would take such a liberty, Maria headed for her office where she dropped the tablet she was carrying on the desk. She wasn't dressed to take a run except for her shoes, but she had to get outside, away from everyone.

Her hands hit the crash bar, and she emerged into a fall afternoon that was still somewhat warm even for Virginia. She picked a direction and started running as fast as she could. Eventually, she slowed down to a jog to catch her breath then built back up to her usual speed.

When she could run no more, Maria threw herself down under a tree with her back against the trunk, her chest heaving and sweat soaking her clothes. Soon, her breathing evened out. She brought her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms around them and rested her head on them.

All these years, she told herself she didn't care what her father thought of her or her career choices. He certainly hadn't made any sort of effort to keep in touch with her after their last meeting more than ten years ago.

It was all a load of BS. Deep inside, she was still a lonely little girl pining for her father's attention. She wanted her father to acknowledge her as his daughter, to be proud of who she was and what she'd become. She wanted him to be the kind of father who bragged on his child so much that people started avoiding him for fear of being shown yet another example of how she was so much smarter and more successful than theirs. Maria felt foolish for wishing for the impossible.

Getting to her feet, she brushed dirt, bark, grass, and leaves from the back of her pants, and started back toward the training camp. On the way, she took out her phone, scrolled through her contact list until she came to her father's number. Steve said she would have to be the one to cancel their plans. Well, so be it. She hit dial, but when she heard her father's voice, she couldn't speak.

"Maria? Are you there?"

She ended the call, shut the phone off and shoved it into her pocket where it remained for the rest of the day.

Later, in her room, she turned it back on to find that she had several missed calls and texts. Most were from her father. She deleted the texts without reading, and the voicemails without listening to them. The ones from Steve she just left alone. She wanted to be close to him tonight, but was still angry that he'd made plans for them without consulting her, totally ignoring the fact that, had their trip been to somewhere tropical, she'd have been fine with his take-charge attitude.

After her shower, Maria took a t-shirt from the dresser to wear to bed. It was one of Steve's that she'd pilfered. While it didn't smell like him, it made her feel safe and cared for that he never asked for it back.

She lay down and pulled the sheet over her, staring up at the ceiling until sleep dulled her senses.

~~O~~

Hours later, Maria awoke from a dream about the events in D.C., calling out Steve's name when the third helicarrier crashed into the Potomac. Sitting up in bed, she pushed the hair off her face, tossed the covers away and hung her legs over the side. She was contemplating going to the cafeteria for a cold drink when there was a light knock at her door. Just for a moment, she considered not answering then she heard Steve's voice.

"Maria? You okay?"

She padded to the door and stood with all weight on one foot, one hand holding the knob and the other on her hip. "Why are you here?"

Steve pointed a thumb over his shoulder. "Was on my way to get something to drink when I heard you calling out. Must've been quite a dream."

"It was." They looked at each other and away.

"If you're okay, I'll just…"

"Wait." Maria slipped on a pair of pants and shoved her feet into the sneakers next to her bed. She stepped into the hall and shut the door. Together, they walked to the cafeteria, deserted at this time of night except for three trainees talking softly in a corner. Steve got them each a bottle of water, and carried it to a table as far from the others as possible. They sat in silence for a while then the trainees left and it was just them. The sounds of pots and pans from the kitchen marked the presence of the prep cooks.

Because it was his idea to come here, Maria let him start the conversation.

"I should probably apologize for the way I handled this thing with your father."

She shook her head. "Steve…"

"But I'm not going to." Taken aback, Maria could only stare as he kept talking. "What if this is the last chance you'll ever get to see him again? Do you really want him to die thinking you didn't care?"

Her back stiffened and her hand clenched on the water bottle, crinkling the plastic. "I don't care. That man made my childhood a living hell. He's not getting the chance to do it again."

"You're sure that's what'll happen? The last time you saw him, you were a girl. Now you're an adult. You have a job you love, with power and prestige." She crossed her arms and looked off into the distance, making no comment. "What if he's trying to make amends?"

Her phone vibrated on the table. She scowled at the caller ID, and sent it to voice mail. A few seconds later, it buzzed to let her know there was a message. She ignored it, proving his point.

"Aren't you going to get that?"

Too tired to fight him anymore, Maria accessed voice mail, listened then hit end without deleting. Very carefully, she laid the phone on the table and crossed her arms when what she really wanted to do was throw it at the wall. Dammit! Why did Celia have to call now? What the hell could she want?

~~O~~

Steve reached for her hand, and she reluctantly let him hold her. "Who was it?"

"No one important. My father's accountant. Wants me to call her back ASAP."

"So call her."

Maria shook her head. "I don't want to talk to her either."

Confused, Steve released her hand and picked up the bottle to take a drink. He recapped it and set it back the in the exact same spot. "Why not?"

There was a moment of hesitation, as if their conversation had brought up old memories buried long ago under hard work and determination. Strangely enough, they were what first attracted him to her. Now, they were working against him.

"Remember when I said I haven't always been a good girl?"

"What of it?"

She sat cross-legged in the seat, arms crossed, rubbing up and down her biceps. "If you knew some of the things I've done, you wouldn't like me."

His relief was almost a physical thing. "There isn't anything you could do or say that would drive me away."

"What about this: I have a criminal record."

Steve shrugged. "Lots of people do." He didn't mention his own brushes with the law back before Dr. Erskine and the serum.

"I started getting into trouble at age thirteen. Not that I didn't before, but that's when it escalated. Shoplifting, spray painting graffiti on the sides of buildings, skipping school, smoking, taking money from my father's wallet, getting into fights with other students, mostly boys."

A snort of humor came out before Steve could stop it. He wasn't at all surprised that she started fights or that they were with the boys rather than girls. "Sorry. Go on."

Just for a moment, a smile appeared then was gone again though there was a slight glimmer of mischief in her eyes. "My father rationalized my behavior as the onset of puberty. After the fifth or sixth incident that had to be finagled, he sent me to boarding school hoping the discipline would straighten me out. It was an epic fail.

"I was expelled less than three months into the year for picking the lock on one of the instructor's file cabinets and stealing the answers to an exam. Sold them to ten students before someone turned me in, but that's not why I was expelled. The dean sent me packing because I refused to return the money."

She picked up her water bottle, finding it empty. Steve went to get refills, and waited for her to continue. He could've rushed her, but this was her story.

"My father made restitution to the students and a generous donation to the school. My punishment was to be placed in a public school. Didn't do much better there. I made good grades, but was frequently in detention for talking back to the teachers, starting fights, or acting out in class. Tried out for softball and basketball. Wasn't accepted. Said it was my attitude. So, dad put me in martial arts as a way to channel my 'aggression'."

Maria paused in her recitation, apparently to check his reaction. Although he found this stroll through her childhood memories fascinating, Steve kept his expression neutral.

"For their fifth anniversary, Dad gave Mom a '66 Jaguar Roadster convertible in her favorite color of green, and she gave him the news that he was going to be a father. Whenever I could get away with it, I would go down to the garage and sit in it, pretending that it was just Mom and me out for a drive. It made me feel close to her. He kept it in pristine condition, but never once took me for a ride.

"When I turned sixteen and got my license, I was sure he'd let me take it for a drive, even if it was just around the block with him in the passenger seat, but he said no. So, after he left for the office, I took the keys. I was on my way home when the police pulled me over."

She adjusted her position, one knee up and sitting on the other foot. "Dad came home to get briefs he left in his home office and discovered the car missing. He knew I'd taken it, but instead of waiting for me to come home, he reported it stolen. He planned on leaving me in jail for a couple of days to teach me a lesson.

"Then, the first night, one of the guards thought he'd have himself a little late night fun with a teenage girl. To his immense embarrassment, he landed in the ER with a broken wrist, and sore balls. Dad sent one of the junior partners to bail me out the next day. The attorney convinced the guard to take his questionable ethics elsewhere, like another state, and that it would be in his best interest not to return to Illinois ever."

The contents of the second water bottle were gone, yet Steve had the feeling there was still more to the story.

"There were a few incidents when I first joined the military, minor skirmishes that were quickly resolved." She put her feet on the floor. "I was resentful of authority."

Steve looked at her and chuckled. "That's it? I thought you'd killed someone."

Maria got to her feet, all semblance of humor gone from her expression and her tone. "I did." She leaned close, one hand on the table. "My college roommate, the first friend I ever had that liked me for more than my father's money, was assaulted by the star quarterback. He bragged to his friends, and laughed about it, said she cried assault because he wouldn't return her calls after their one night stand.

"Her parents told her to 'tough it out' and not make waves or she'd lose her scholarship. For weeks, she was afraid to leave the dorm. I went to her instructors for class assignments, brought her food, washed her clothes. I forced her to shower and get dressed every day, brush her hair, anything that would push her back into the world. Eventually, she started doing these things for herself again. For months, I tried to convince her to speak to a counselor, but she refused. I even asked my father for help bringing the creep to justice. He said there was nothing he could do if she wouldn't press charges.

"That left only one course of action. I confronted the sorry excuse for a human being in the gym where he worked out late at night. He tried to do to me what he did to her. We fought. He was outmatched against my black belt moves. He fell back and struck his head on the corner of the weight rack." Maria stopped to take a breath. "The paramedics were called. He died on the way to the hospital. A witness corroborated my story and it never went to trial." She took a deep breath and let it out. "She, my roommate, died in a car accident a few years ago."

Steve stood up and tried to take her in his arms, to offer comfort, but she wouldn't let him touch her. "Killing that jerk was an accident, Maria. You were defending yourself, and your friend."

A harsh growl of frustration and pain erupted from her throat. "You don't understand, Steve. He wasn't the first person I killed, nor was he the last."

Confused, Steve asked, "Who was the first?"

Maria turned away, speaking over her shoulder. "My mother."

TBC