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 40
New Hampshire
Natasha stood beside the SUV, shading her eyes with one hand as she watched the quinjet take off. Clint banked around toward the south, waggling to let her know he'd seen her then engaged the cloak as he aimed for home.
Taking out her phone, she sent James an email to let him know she was on her way and got into the SUV, using the GPS to find her way back to the road.
Vermont
Once again, she stopped at the general store to get coffee and gas up the SUV. With both tanks full, hers and the vehicle's, she was ready for the final leg of her journey.
By the time Natasha was back on the road, she'd become concerned at not hearing from James. He normally responded within an hour at the most. The email had been sent more than two hours ago, and nothing yet.
As she pulled off the paved road onto the gravel path to the cabin, she came upon a battered and muddy four-by-four partially hidden. Peering in the windows, she saw two cardboard cups, beer cans, fast food bags, and other less identifiable human detritus. She started her search of the interior by taking the lid off one of the cups, and sniffing. It was fresh, or had been several hours ago. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the driver and passenger had made it their business to stick their noses into something that could get them killed.
Natasha pocketed the keys and returned to the SUV. She opened the rear hatch and lifted the false floor, revealing a hidden compartment. She pressed her thumb on the scanner and entered her code at the beep. A panel slid back to show the false floor was filled with weapons, including her Widow's Bites and batons. Because dead bodies attracted the cops the way honey attracted bees, she chose a lesser of evils. From another compartment she took a pair of rings, slipping one on each hand.
She crept through the forest toward the cabin, stopping within the tree line to observe. A few minutes after she arrived, the front door opened and James came out. He rolled down the sleeves of his shirt and sat on the top step, his eyes roaming over the landscape as if he hadn't a care in the world.
Were the men hiding out, waiting for an opportunity to attack? Or had they already done so, forcing James to defended himself in the only way he knew how?
Natasha stood up and walked into the clearing. Upon seeing her, James got to his feet. When she got near, he said, "We have company."
Her eyes flicked to the open front door and back to James. "What happened?"
He pushed the door open, silently inviting her in. Dreading what she might see, she climbed the steps and James moved out of the way to let her pass. She stepped over the threshold, holding in a chuckle at the sight.
Two men in their late thirties to early forties had been stripped down to their wife-beaters, tighty-whities and socks, and tied up. The rest of their clothes looked freshly washed and dried, and had been folded, and stacked neatly on the seat of the armchair. Two pairs of freshly cleaned boots sat next to it.
The dark haired man with the receding hairline had a tattoo on his left arm: Born to Hunt, Forced to Work, and a drawing of a buck with the antlers entwined through and around the lettering. The blonde had a farmer's tan, the biceps glaring white in comparison.
The men had been struggling with their bonds, but froze when they saw Natasha standing just inside the door not even trying to hide her amusement. She walked over to stand over them. "As you've probably figured out, we're not fond of uninvited guests."
She backed up to James's side, and gave a nod. He moved over to the men, using his left arm to help them sit up before returning to her side, feet shoulder width apart, arms hanging loosely at his sides.
Natasha raised her chin at the dirty blond with a scar on his left eyebrow. "Name."
"Tommy Lee, ma'am."
She turned to the other one. His dark hair and eyes indicated a Native American background. He rushed to respond before she asked, "Woody, ma'am. What're you gonna do with us?"
The glare she turned on them was meant to intimidate, and it did. "First off, my friend here's going untie you. Then, you're going to get dressed and tell us why you've invaded our privacy."
Confused, the men looked at each other, then at Natasha. Tommy Lee jumped when James easily lifted his two-hundred plus frame off the floor and untied his hands. He took the stack of clothes James handed him, putting his pants on as he talked. "We was watchin' a special report on that shi… uh, I mean situation that went down in D.C. In one o' the videos, I saw you and him tryin' to kill Captain America."
Natasha rolled the information around in her head, and turned to Woody, who was shrugging into his flannel shirt. "Is that what you saw?"
"Yes, ma'am. Clear as day."
She and James exchanged glances and sighs. After both men were dressed, James directed them to sit on the sofa then joined Natasha when she motioned him over.
Bending close, Natasha lowered her voice to a whisper loud enough for the men to hear without making it obvious, letting her tone and expression do the work. "They've seen us. They know who we are."
"What's the plan?" James replied uncertainly.
"There are lots of places in these woods where the bodies will never be found." James looked dubious and concerned at the same time. To keep him from giving away her true plan, Natasha backed up and quickly crossed the room to stand behind and between the two men. "Sorry boys. Hope you kissed your mothers before you left this morning because it doesn't look like you'll be making it home for dinner tonight, or any other night. Not that I want to do this, you understand, but we can't take a chance that you'll go to the cops."
When she turned, James was standing in front of her, angrier than she'd seen him since their fight in the aforementioned videos. He grabbed her arm just tight enough to let her know he was serious. "I won't let you kill them," he told her in Russian.
She dropped her eyes to his hand on her arm and back to his face, one eyebrow arched. James took the hint and let go. "Sorry to break it to you, but this isn't your operation. I'm in charge, and we're doing this my way," she responded in the same language.
Before Tommy Lee and Woody could so much as turn their heads, Natasha pressed a button on the rings taken from the SUV. A tiny needle popped out of each, which she pressed against the sides of their necks. Within seconds, they were unconscious. She pulled the rings off, dropped them in the top drawer of the desk, and pushed it closed.
Taking the keys from her pocket, she tossed them to James. He caught them automatically, his expression telling her he was angry and disappointed at her handling of the situation.
"Go get their vehicle."
"And then?"
She turned her back on him in a way that said the conversation was at an end. "We're taking them for a ride."
~~O~~
When Natasha and James returned from driving their uninvited guests back to town, he was pleasantly surprised to find that she'd thought to bring him more clothes. A jacket, gloves, a couple of hats, flannel shirts, long sleeved t-shirts, thermal wear, jeans, socks, shoes, and men's unmentionables.
Tucked in with everything else, James found a faded blue t-shirt with a picture of Steve's shield on the front. He tried not to think about the fact that he was ready to see Steve, but couldn't until the current crisis was over. When that would be, Natasha couldn't say. At the moment, she was on the computer. He tried to read over her shoulder, but all her communications were in what looked like Italian. A few words stood out to him, giving him an idea of the plans she was making for them.
Natasha was in touch with one of her contacts, making arrangements for them to leave their current location and travel to another, though where, they hadn't yet discussed.
Going into his room, James took the duffle bags from the closet and started filling them with his belongings. With that done, he went to the other room and dropped the bags on the floor by the front door. Natasha looked up at the sound and went back to work.
The drugs she'd given Woody and Tommy Lee may not work for long. Eventually, they would remember, if not everything, then enough to take their concerns to the authorities. If they were captured, he would most likely be locked away, studied, experimented on again. The thought filled him an unidentifiable emotion, one that made him want to run and hide. He trusted Natasha to get them out of this or he'd have taken off, even if it meant being alone again.
Not knowing how much longer Natasha would be working, James took it upon himself to make another pot of coffee. He was hungry, but that could wait. The scent of the coffee drifted across the room, and soon, Natasha was sniffing the air. He took the hint and brought her a cup. She graced him with a distracted smile, and went back to work.
~~O~~
Natasha finished her work, and shut down the computer. She picked up her cup and found it empty. Her eyes made a quick sweep across the room, but James wasn't there. The bags he'd dropped by the front door were gone as well. Had he left on foot while she was arranging the next leg of their trip?
Then she heard the muffle thump of sneakers on the porch. Pacing meant he was restless, anxious to be gone. She rushed into her room and quickly packed her things.
Natasha set her bags on the sofa and turned in a circle, making sure they had everything. The rest was replaceable with just a phone call, email or text.
Going to the supply closet, she accessed the security controls, entered her code and pressed her hand to the scanner.
Identity confirmed.
With a few keystrokes, she armed the self-destruct, and set the timer.
Self-destruct will commence in one minute.
She picked up her bags and was out the front door. James turned as the door slammed behind her. "We have fifteen minutes to get as far from here as possible."
They threw their bags into the back seat, got in the front, and were on the road. Once on the paved road, Natasha floored it until they were nearly thirty miles over the posted speed limit. She knew they wouldn't be stopped. The deputies seldom came this far out unless they had a need.
A few minutes later, there was rumble, and when she looked in the mirror, a black cloud shot up into the sky. There were no worries that it would catch the forest on fire. The last few weeks had left the ground and trees wet almost to the point of saturation. Not to mention that the possibility of the safe house being destroyed had been taken into account during construction. A wide "fire-break" had been created around the main building.
When the fire was put out, an investigation would show nothing that wouldn't normally be found in an isolated cabin. And if any trace of weapons was found, it would be assumed that they were for hunting.
Natasha's eyes met James' with a smile. "Ready for a road trip?"
"Where are we going?"
"West. We have to make a stop to trade out this vehicle for another on the way."
James faced forward in his seat. "Won't the police be able to track our fingerprints and the vehicle?"
With a smirk, she made a left turn toward town. If they just up and disappeared after the explosion, it would look suspicious. But if they hung around at least for the evening, and didn't appear to be in a hurry to leave, no one would think twice about their absence. "Yes. Yes, they will. The VIN will show that it was reported stolen in Casper, Wyoming over a year ago. Our fingerprints will be memorable for belonging to a couple who died in a car accident in Pinole, California in 2013. Should leave them with quite a mystery."
From the corner of her eye, Natasha watched James stare out the front window with a thoughtful expression. If he had questions, he would ask them when he was ready.
As they reached town, Natasha checked around for their uninvited guests, and saw that the vehicle was now parked in front of the sheriff's office.
She pulled into the Second Chance just as fire trucks and sheriff's vehicles came roaring past with sirens and lights blazing. Before they got out, she touched James on the arm. "If anyone asks, we're driving to Queensbury to visit family."
"Where are we really going?"
"Queensbury. That's where we'll make the vehicle exchange."
James nodded as he got out, meeting her in front of the SUV, giving the bar and grill an uncertain glance. "What if Bethanne is here?"
This would be a learning experience for James, being forced to face up to someone that he'd harmed. One side of her mouth turned up in a sympathetic smile. "Smile, apologize for being a jerk and metaphorically throw yourself upon her mercy. If she slaps you, take it like a man. Don't even think of hitting her back. If she accepts your apology, thank her, and come back to the table."
"Should I speak to her alone?"
"You embarrassed her in front of her friends. The apology should be public too." His expression spoke of doubt. So, as they reached the door, Natasha gave him an encouraging smile. "You can do this, James."
The Bear Trap Restaurant
Earlier That Morning
Sheriff Fenris Pineda pulled into the parking lot of the Trap, stopping next to the dirty, beat up four-by-four. He'd known Tommy Lee and Woody since they were kids. They weren't the sharpest tools in the woodshed, and today was proof. Nina Lutz, owner of the restaurant, called when she arrived to get the prep work started for the breakfast crowd, and found Woody's vehicle sitting in the rear parking lot.
Both men were asleep with the keys in the ignition. Shining his flashlight in the window, Fenris counted two dozen empty cans of their favorite cheap beer. Tommy Lee had a half empty bottle of Jack held loosely between his thighs, on hand around the bottle's neck.
Fenris opened the driver's door and was slapped in the face by the stench stale of alcohol. Nina came out when she heard his radio squawk. He pointed to the bottle and shrugged. Rolling her eyes, the matronly African-American woman went back inside.
The sheriff called for a squad car, and a few minutes later, Deputy Harley Arroyo arrived. He opened the cruiser's back doors then went to help Fenris get the men moving.
"Want I should call their mothers, Fen?"
"No sense is waking them at this hour. Take 'em to the station and put them in one of our deluxe suites."
Harley chuckled at the joke because all the jail cells looked the same. "Right. I'll have Martha turn down the beds and put a mint on their pillows."
~~O~~
Hours later, Fenris was kicked back at his desk, drinking coffee and reading a fishing magazine when Martha, the dispatcher, stuck her head in the door. "Dumb and Dumber are awake, boss."
"Thanks, Martha." His booted feet dropped to the floor and he stood with a sigh. In the cell block, as he liked to call the four individual enclosures behind the heavy metal door, Fenris found Woody splashing water on his face while Tommy Lee sat on the side of the cot with his head in his hands, moaning. Just to mess with their heads, the sheriff ran his baton over the bars to get their attention, the sound loud in the enclosed room. Fenris watched the men cringe with glee. "Oh, good. You're awake. This is the third time in six weeks, boys. You gotta stop getting drunk and passin' out in your truck."
Woody wiped the water from his face with the sleeve of his flannel shirt. "Oh, man! We musta had some good shit this time 'cause I don't remember a dad-blamed thing since yesterday mornin'."
Tommy Lee came to lean on the bars. "Hank hasn't made a batch in weeks, Woody. Not since his still blew up and nearly started that forest fire."
Shifting his feet, Fenris slipped the baton back into the loop on his belt. "Wasn't Hank's product, boys. This time, you got fried on the legal stuff." He unlocked the cells, inviting the men to step out then followed them to the bullpen. "Martha here's going to return your belongings. I suggest you go on home and stay there for the rest of the day and night. You might also want to think about giving up the hooch for a while. Can't handle it like you did in your twenties."
Harley opened the front door, giving Tommy Lee and Woody a mocking salute. "Until next time, fellas."
Motel 9
Zanesville, Ohio
The Next Day
The morning dawned sunny with a few clouds and a gentle breeze that barely stirred the leaves and grass. There was a nip in the air to remind everyone that winter was on its way.
Natasha was sitting on the railing with her back against the post, one leg stretched out in front of her and the other bent. Wrapped in a fuzzy sweater, she sipped coffee from a cardboard cup without acknowledging James when he came to stand next to her. His hands were shoved deep in his pants pockets, and he stared off into the distance without expression. After a while, he said two words, "I'm sorry."
"For what?"
He glanced at her and away. "For not trusting you."
She took another sip of coffee. "You weren't just playing good cop-bad cop?"
He took a moment to puzzle out her meaning before responding. "No."
Turning to look at him, her smile was self-satisfied and smug. "Good. If you believed it, they did too. They won't remember being there or some of the events before, but they will remember being scared. Hopefully, they'll keep to themselves from now on."
James faced her with his arms crossed. "How do you do it?"
"Do what?"
"Become so many different people?"
Handing James the cup, Natasha swung her legs over the side, holding onto the edge of the railing, her ankles crossed. "It's what I do, James. Who I am is… it's just a matter of circumstances."
He thought that over for a while, pacing to the end of the porch and back. "Who are you when you're with me?"
Her eyes dropped to the floor where she could see his feet. Today, he was wearing sneakers, a stone-washed blue long sleeved t-shirt and a pair of the jeans she bought in New York. He would need more clothes when they returned to the city, and she wanted him to be comfortable wearing them before then. "I'm whoever you need me to be, James."
Staring into her cup, James finished off the last of her coffee before speaking again. "And who's that?"
Her fingers wrapped around his hand, giving it a small squeeze. "A friend, confidant, nurturer, chief cook and bottle washer."
The light in his eyes changed though his expression didn't. He backed up a step as she jumped to the floor and went back inside, expecting him to follow. When he didn't, she set about packing.
Over an hour later, James had still not come into the room. The breakfast she brought from the diner next door remained untouched.
James had been awake, sitting at the table surfing the 'net on the laptop he found in the back of their current vehicle. When he heard her come out of the bathroom, Natasha saw him close down the computer guiltily, as if he didn't want her to know what he'd been doing. If he were almost any other man, she would think he'd been looking at porn. She could check the browser history, but trust went both ways. For her to be checking up on him would tell him a different story than what she said.
The doorknob rattled and James came into the room. He went straight to his duffle bag, added his dirty clothes and pajamas and zipped it closed. With the bag over his shoulder, he stood near the door waiting.
"Head's up," she called out as she tossed him the keys to their new ride, another SUV with four-by-four capabilities. "You drive."
~~O~~
In a few minutes, they were on the road again, taking it slow and easy on the smaller highways that offered a scenic view rather than speed to their destination. They'd gone about ten miles when James looked over at Natasha in the passenger seat. Her phone was in the center console and on the dash was the modern version of a road map, a GPS, displaying the route Natasha had programmed into it.
He turned on the radio and set it to a station playing big band music. After a while, he got bored and changed the channel to country. He could feel Natasha looking at him. "Want me to change it?"
The side of her mouth closest to him turned up in a smile. "There's an unwritten rule: Driver picks the music."
"Any music?"
"If there's a station playing it, yes. Alternatively, we could log onto a personalized music app, download music or stop in the next town to buy CDs." James was confused by the term, and Natasha was kind enough to explain without being asked. "They're digital media, like vinyl records, but smaller."
James scanned through the stations until he came to one playing jazz. Tapping the steering wheel to the beat, he thought about everything he'd read during his Internet searches while Natasha was sleeping. He shut down the computer when she got up, knowing she would be curious as to what he was doing. "I researched my family. You told me they were all dead."
"I wouldn't lie to you about something so important, James."
"You did lie. My brother's wife had a child after he died during an influenza outbreak." Without meaning to, James hurled the accusation at Natasha, not with anger, but resentment.
She closed the book in her lap, turning sideways to watch him. "It wasn't a lie. You asked about your brother and sisters, not their offspring." Steering with his left hand, James let the right rest on his knee. Natasha reached across the console and gripped his fingers. "I would've told you eventually, even gone with you to meet him and his family, if that's what you want. I just don't think it's a good idea at this point. He may not have been told about you."
James saw where she was going, and nodded, squeezing her hand to let her know she was off the hook. "How do we tell him about me?"
"That's something we'll figure out together." He looked at her then back to the road, and she went back to her book.
Hours later, they stopped to eat and fill the tank then it was back on the road. Their destination was Hot Springs, Arkansas. They arrived in the middle of the night and managed to find a bed and breakfast that had a vacancy. The downside was the room only had one bed. It was, after all, a popular romantic getaway. After a short disagreement, James finally convinced Natasha to take the bed while he slept on the floor.
"If you're sure, because I don't mind roughing it. I'm tougher than I look." Her sardonic grin and tone were meant to remind him of their fight where she rode him like a bucking bronco until he threw her off. A few minutes later, she'd almost killed him with a grenade launcher, but only after he'd shot her.
"Yes, you are." There was a momentary urge to take her in his arms. He pushed it down. "I'm still sleeping on the floor."
~~O~~
Natasha came out of the bathroom in a long sleeved t-shirt, fleece bottoms and fuzzy socks that made James want to be close to her, to feel her warmth cuddled against his side. Her hair was still damp from the shower, the strands curling into shoulder length waves.
Keeping his eyes averted, he grabbed his pajamas and ducked into the bathroom. After his shower, he wiped the condensation from the mirror. It had only been a couple of weeks since the hair on his chest began to grow back and already he could see it would be thick and dark, like the hair on his head. That too had grown and was down to his shoulders again. He dried it with the towel and used Natasha's brush to remove the tangles.
He carried his clothes out to the bedroom, tossing them on a chair. Natasha was lying on the bed with the remote in her hand. She'd fallen asleep watching a news program detailed the weather for the next several days.
James carefully removed the remote from her lax grip, turned off the television and set it aside. The sheet and blanket had been pushed out of the way. He covered her, and shut out the light.
Breathing a heavy sigh, he lay down on the floor where Natasha had spread a sheet, rested his head on the pillow and pulled the blanket up to his chest. He lay there in the dark, wishing his life was different.
~~O~~
In the morning, Natasha woke before James, changed clothes and went down to the dining room for coffee. She left a note so he'd know to come down and join her, and a few minutes later, he did.
By the time they finished eating, it was late enough that her contact would be up and about. Previously, whenever she spoke to a contact, Natasha would do so privately, or in a language she knew James didn't speak to protect the person's identity. Today, she would do it differently.
Taking his hand, Natasha led him outside, down the steps and along the small country road, eventually taking his arm with her right hand and using the phone with the left. "Bonjour, Atticus… Yes, we got in last night… It was late and I didn't want to bother you… Of course… Not at all… We're at the Old River Road Inn… Until then… Au revoir." She ended the call and put the phone in her jacket pocket. "We have a couple of hours to kill until our meeting. What would you like to do?"
"We could walk."
She smiled. "Up to you."
James started walking, slow and steady. More of a quiet stroll. As they passed a gift shop, he switched to holding her hand. Natasha glanced at him and he smiled back, almost as if he expected a protest. When she didn't, he faced forward again, still smiling.
By her estimation, they'd gone over a mile when they came to a hair salon. Natasha pulled him to a stop. "Mind if I get a haircut?"
"Of course not."
"They could give you a trim, if you like."
James looked into the salon, saw that it was filled with women, not a man in sight, and shook his head. "Another time."
~~O~~
Less than an hour later, they were again walking along the narrow road. Turning left, James led them to the boardwalk that ran along the edge of the lake. The temperature had dropped, bringing a chill wind that pushed at them. Gazing over the water, James felt more at ease now than since they left the cabin.
Natasha took his hand and they walked back toward the inn, cutting back to the road near the gift shop.
They were close to the inn, set back from the road on a sharp curve, when the tranquility of the scene was ruptured by the squeal of brakes and voices shouting in alarm.
James swept Natasha into his arms for protection as a large moving truck careened out of control headed right for them.
TBC