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 42
Steve inhaled sharply, exhaling with relief. "When?"
Natasha looked away, her smile fading as she took a sip of coffee and picked up her spoon. "Depends."
"On?"
"At the moment, we're committed to helping Thor locate the scepter. More than just Earth is at stake if he doesn't return it to the Nine Realms. In my opinion, that has to take precedence." She poked the dessert with the spoon. "You're going to be upset, and you have every right to be." Steve could be patient when it served his purpose so he sipped his coffee and waited. "James informed me of his decision weeks ago."
Sitting up straight, Steve's anger surged, making him want to verbally lash out as his teammate. Yes, she was also a friend. However, at the moment he wasn't having friendly feelings toward her. "Weeks?"
"The night before the first raid. The emergency message from Clint and his request arrived within minutes of each other. And Thor's …" she made air quotes, "… 'The fate of the universe is at stake' proclamation is the more immediate problem."
"Why tell me now?"
Natasha signaled for the server, and soon their cups were refilled. She took another bite of the crumble, chewing slowly and swallowing. "I realized that all this time I've been no better than his HYDRA captors. I've just been using a softer prison."
Steve set his spoon aside, leaning forward and lowering his voice. "You're nothing like them, Nat."
"But I am. In the beginning, James looked to me for guidance, and I liked being in control of every facet of his life, just the two of us alone with few outside influences. It was even my idea for him to dance with a girl at the bar. It didn't work out well."
"Dance?" Annoyed with himself for repeating everything she said, Steve took a deep breath to get his whirling thoughts under control. Somehow, he was able to smile. "You've left out a lot of information, Romanoff. Why don't you start from the beginning?"
Before Natasha could speak, a shadow fell over the table. Thinking it was the server, Steve said, "No more coffee, thanks."
"Actually, coffee sounds great."
A surge of affection for the owner of the voice brought Steve to his feet. He gave Maria a kiss and signaled for another chair to be brought. One of the busboys rushed to assist, and Maria joined them. Within moments, the server was there with coffee. She opened the napkin and draped it over her lap. "Hope you don't mind me joining you. Jarvis gave me the address."
"Of course not." The look in Natasha's eyes told him she'd rather have done this with just the two of them, though she wouldn't come right out and say it.
"What're we talking about?"
Steve took her hand. "Bucky." He glanced at Natasha, daring her to make a remark to go with the smirk that turned up one corner of her mouth. "Why do you call him James? Only his grandmother and teachers called Bucky by his given name. His mom called him Jamie, unless he was in trouble."
"It was his choice, Steve." She crossed her knees and leaned back in her chair. "Even now, he feels as if he'll never be the man he was before. He believes Bucky Barnes died the day he fell from the train, and James Barnes, another version of the man you once knew, has taken his place. One that's less worthy of your friendship."
Maria picked up his spoon and took a bit of the crumble before speaking. "There's nothing he could do to drive Steve away. Does he know that?"
One shoulder twitched in a shrug. "I've told him. Repeatedly. Wanting to see Steve now means he's finally starting to believe it."
Steve reached for the spoon, his appetite for dessert coming back now that he knew he'd be seeing his best friend again. Across the table, he saw Natasha smile in a way that, on anyone else, he would call wistful. But the Black Widow wasn't the type of woman to be melancholy. What would cause her to show it now?
Whatever the cause, Steve hoped it didn't interfere with her ability to calm the Other Guy during a Code Green. If he stopped responding to her, they would just have to let the anger dissipate on its own. A situation that could take a few minutes, a few hours or longer, depending on the circumstances.
"When is good for you, Steve?"
He wiped his mouth on the napkin and set it aside. "As soon as it can be arranged."
"The site should be quiet, easily accessible, and easily defensible with lots of escape routes to give him a feeling of safety. He gets claustrophobic following one of his nightmares. It has to be somewhere strangers are unlikely to stumble across us while we're there." Natasha finished off her coffee and rejected another refill.
Maria shifted in her seat. "I'll do the research and make up a list. New York or D.C.?"
Steve glanced at Natasha, and she nodded. "We should stay close to HQ just in case Stark comes up with new intel on the scepter."
"Agreed. Let's keep this between us for now. We'll read Thor, Stark and Banner into it if or when it becomes necessary." His eyes scanned Natasha's features. "You don't have a problem with this, do you?"
For a moment, it seemed as if Steve had said something to anger her, and an angry Black Widow was nothing to mess with. "It was his idea, not mine. Personally, I think he should wait another couple of months. I know it sounds selfish, but our time away from everything-people, noise, the massive responsibility of being an Avenger, it's helped me as much as him. And I'm not ready to give it up. Told him to let the idea simmer for a while and see if he still felt the same. Then Thor and the scepter happened. "To tell the truth, I was relieved it had to be put on the back burner for a while.
Natasha drew designs in the condensation on her water glass. "Nightmares and flashbacks were a daily occurrence when we first went off the grid. He learned to meditate, we do Tai Chi, hike, run, anything physical." She chuckled. "We even began sparring and stick-fighting a couple times a week. It's helping a little at a time."
Having seen Natasha working out with Barton, Steve wondered how an ultra-aggressive form of exercise could help lessen the impact of bad dreams and flashbacks. Steve had gone through PTSD when he first came out of the ice. His friend's would be worse several times over considering all that had happened to him. Steve had the luxury, comparatively, of having slept through the world making history. Bucky hadn't been nearly as lucky. He had been an instrument of HYDRA, a tool for reshaping history.
The server brought the check, Steve passed over his credit card, and the man was gone again. Glancing over at Natasha, just for one unguarded moment, he saw something in her eyes. Emotional pain on Bucky's behalf seemed a likely scenario under the circumstances, though it would be totally out of character for the woman he knew.
"Let's take our time locating a meeting place. Scope it out, make any necessary alterations. Lay in supplies, food, water, a place for him to sleep. Let him get used to the new surroundings before I show up."
"Sounds like a plan, Rogers. I'll run it past our boy when it's time."
The server placed a leather cover on the table at Steve's right elbow. He signed the receipt, pocketing his copy and the card. "Are you still keeping the location a secret?"
"For now. We had to change venues a few weeks back. Couple of the locals got a little too nosy for their own good. Thought it best to vacate the premises with extreme prejudice."
Steve was saved from responding when his phone beeped at the same as Natasha's, a message from Stark letting them know they had another possible location of the scepter. He tossed his napkin on the table and stood. Maria stood to give him a kiss. "Go."
He caught up with Natasha at the front door. She handed the valet her ticket and a twenty and snatched the keys from the boy's hand. "Thanks." Less than thirty seconds later, they were on their way back to Stark Tower.
Hot Springs, Arkansas
Two Weeks Later
It was full dark and had been for hours when Natasha arrived back at the safe house. She let herself in and closed the door quietly behind her. Too tired to do more than toss her bag in a chair, she went to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee, only to find it had already been done.
In the living room, a fire had been laid but not started. She used the firestarter to light it and sat on the sofa to watch the flames licking at the tinder. The warmth from the fire made her drowsy, and before long, she'd fallen asleep. She didn't move a muscle when James came downstairs and covered her with a blanket.
~~O~~
Natasha awoke to chilly daylight covered with a blanket and the fire on its way to going out. She threw the covers off and padded into the downstairs bathroom. When she came out, the smell of coffee drew her into the kitchen where a fresh pot was waiting. A clean cup was on the counter next to it. The scent of food lingered in the air, making her stomach growl. She had no idea what time it was or how long she'd slept and didn't really care.
Natasha peered inside the refrigerator. On the top shelf was a plate of leftovers. James had cooked for himself while she was gone. This time, unlike the others, she hadn't restricted his access to the Internet or locked the weapons cache beyond the DNA scanner. As his profile wasn't in the database, he was locked out. She'd have to change that.
Taking the plate out, Natasha set it on the counter and went upstairs to shower and change. While up there, she knocked on his door, not surprised when there was no answer. She slowly descended the stairs, still tired from completing four difficult raids, two in in just the past week. Each time one didn't pan out, the frustration level increased until the teammates were arguing about nothing or beating the crap out of each other during downtime.
She poured a second cup of coffee and put the plate in the microwave, watching the food spin until it dinged. From the drawer to the right of the sink, she grabbed a fork and sat at the island counter to eat.
It was quiet. Almost too quiet. Lately, Natasha had been missing the hustle of the city when she was here and wanted silence when in the city. Her only refuge from the world was the one here with James. The times they spent together were great… most of the time. Sometimes, she needed to be alone. Others, she wanted company even if they didn't talk to each other.
Just as she finished eating, the French doors opened and James came in. He poured himself a cup of coffee without greeting her, taking it out onto the stone patio in the back.
Standing at the kitchen window, she watched the puffy clouds slowly moving from north to south, their varied shades of grey forecasting snow. A gust of wind rattled the windows, and Natasha turned from them to make her way back to the living room where she found James adding logs to the fire.
She sat at one end of the sofa and pulled the blanket up to her chest, watching the flames dance. James got to his feet, brushed the dirt and wood from his hands, and dropped onto the opposite end. For almost three weeks he'd been avoiding being this close to her unless they happened to pass in the hall or on the stairs. It meant they were making progress.
Then, he turned sideways in his seat, one arm resting on the back of the sofa. "I've thought over everything you told me."
Hiding her surprise, Natasha faced him. "And?"
"You were right not to tell me about Isolde and the child. But the rest, I'm not sure I'm ready to forgive you just yet."
"Understood." His eyes darted around the room, and back to hers. "Something else on your mind?"
James nodded. "I've decided to wait until you've located the scepter to meet with Steve."
Wrapping both hands around the cup, Natasha inhaled the steam. "I think that's wise. He knows you're safe here with me." He looked as if he had more to say, and she put up a hand for quiet. "Starting now, on a day-to-day basis, you do your thing, and I'll do mine. Decisions that affect both of us, meals, changing safe houses, whatever, we'll make together."
"And if we disagree?"
Using his question as a way to get past the silent treatment by injecting humor, Natasha poked him in the leg with her foot. "Rock, paper, scissors?"
~~O~~
Though he was still annoyed with her, Natasha's deadpan delivery startled a smile out of James. "Maybe. How do you resolve disputes with your team?"
"The Avengers?" At his blank look, she explained, "That's what we call ourselves." She made a face. "It depends on who's fighting with whom. Thor just grabs the person by the throat and threatens him. Stark is his preferred target. Steve tries to talk his way out, and if that doesn't work, then he fights. Clint and I spar. We try to avoid disagreements with Bruce as much as possible because no one wants to make him angry. He's the one member of the team who doesn't like taking it to the mat."
Genuinely interested in her life when she wasn't with him, James remarked, "Clint must have special skills in order to keep up."
She took a long sip of her coffee and set the cup aside to pull the blanket up to her chest. He took the hint and went to stir the fire. It flared to life again, and James returned to his seat.
"Clint was raised in a circus where he became an expert marksman with bow and arrow, knives, and katana. That's a traditional Japanese sword. He's ambidextrous, exceptionally well trained in acrobatics, tactics, martial arts, hand-to-hand combat, and can turn almost anything into a weapon. He's an outstanding pilot, and can drive or ride anything with wheels, including a unicycle. He also makes the customize tips for his arrows." Pride in her friend's accomplishments showed on her face. "He speaks Russian, Spanish, French, and Italian, has a sharp mind, a sarcastic wit, and oozes charm when it suits him to do so. But don't let that fool you. Clint is one of the most dangerous people you'll ever meet."
"Anything else I should know about the team?"
A sigh preceded her answer. "I'm the only one not in a romantic relationship."
A memory tickled at James, asking to be noticed. "What about Steve?"
"What about Steve?"
"Is he still…"
Natasha snorted a laugh. "A virgin?" James nodded, a little embarrassed at her brash statement. "He has a girlfriend. They're practically living together."
"Is it serious?"
Both of her feet came to rest on his thigh as she stretched out her legs. "Last month, she took him home to meet her father. Since she and her dad haven't spoken in over a decade, I'd say it's pretty serious."
"What's her name?"
"Maria Hill. And no, he hasn't proposed. At least not yet. They're taking it slow, so I wouldn't expect Steve to ask you to be his best man for a while."
Crossing his arms, James tried to ignore the way Natasha's toes wiggled against his thigh, digging in with toes of both feet then alternating, as if she didn't realize she was doing it. He was ready to change the subject to something that had nothing to do with two people being intimate.
She adjusted her position so she could get her cup. "Now about Thanksgiving. The last few years, I've been spending the holiday with Clint and his family."
"And now?"
"We can stay here and have our own celebration, go to one of the restaurants in town, or I can ask Clint to set another place, if you want to spend the day at his farm. He has kids, a boy seven and a girl four. They're rambunctious. Because you're someone new, they'll want to monopolize your time. They're great, don't get me wrong. But they can be a little overwhelming, if you're not used to being around children. His brother-in-law and his girlfriend will be there too."
The wiggling toes turned into rubbing. He wanted her to stop, but it felt too good. "What do you want to do?"
The blanket was thrown over the back of the sofa and Natasha rolled to her feet, picked up her cup and headed for the kitchen. "Oh, no. Don't put this all on me. What we do will be your choice. I'm cool with whatever you want."
The thought of being in the midst of a noisy family didn't appeal to James, at least not at the moment. "You go to Clint's. I'll stay here."
She returned with a full cup for each of them. "Where you go, I go. If you're staying, I'm staying. We're in this together, as long as it takes." She returned to her place on the sofa, and when she reached for the blanket, James tucked it over her lap. "Holiday weren't observed at the Red Room." She smiled at him, tilting her head to the side. "Maybe it's time to start my own traditions, da?"
James didn't know what to say, so he agreed with her. "Da."
"Do you remember how your family celebrated Christmas?"
James was surprised to find that the memories surrounding Christmas and New Years were quite vivid. That is until she went back to rubbing his thigh with one foot, doing things to him that he was certain she hadn't intended. He could get up, distance himself from her, but that would draw attention to the result of her actions. To prevent an awkward situation from developing, he felt his only recourse was to fight back.
He reached under the blanket to grab Natasha's ankle, and pulled her toward him, holding the foot up in front of him.
"James! What are you doing?"
Holding on just tight enough that she couldn't get away, James pinched the material of her fuzzy sock and slowly pulled it off to expose her brightly painted toes. Flashing her what he hoped was a mischievous smile, he ran the tip of one finger over the bottom of her foot. When he reached the instep, her leg spasmed, she giggled and tried to pull away.
"No! Stop! Stop!" He continued to tickle her foot until she was screaming for mercy. "Please, s-s-stop!"
Finally, he released her, and for a moment, those green eyes watched him intently, Natasha raised up onto her elbows, panting and grinning. Before she could say a word, he did the same to the other foot.
This time, she struck back, and soon, they were rolling around on the floor, wrestling playfully, banging into furniture, knocking things over. They rolled off the carpet onto the stone floor of the dining room. James brought them to a stop with himself on top of Natasha, her arms held in a loose grip near her shoulders. She could easily get away but didn't even try.
Her eyes had darkened with excitement. At least that's what it looked like to him. He raised one eyebrow. "I win."
~~O~~
When James grabbed her ankle, Natasha's first instinct was to defend herself. But the touch of his metal hand was gentle, and the look in his eyes was playful.
Now, with the white of the stone ceiling encircling his head like a halo as he hovered over her in the afternoon light, she felt something loosening in her chest. With his hair falling forward to brush his jaw line, and his eyes now a dark blue-grey, she smiled at the picture they would present to someone looking in from the outside: a romantic couple being silly.
His grip on her wrists loosened and she was free, though she stayed, her eyes darting over his features, reading his intent before he realized it himself. The fingers of his right hand lightly brushed the hairs from her cheek and forehead. Then, his smile changed as he leaned toward her.
Natasha's eyes closed, and she sighed as their lips made contact. She wanted to take charge, to force him hurry, but restrained her impulses, letting James make all the moves.
In this moment, as his firm chest pressed her into the floor, and with the chill of the stone at her back making her shiver, she was more conscious of him than even before. Conscious of his strength, and the innate charm and sensuality that hadn't been drugged or conditioned out of him. During her research, she felt his magnetism leaping out of photographs and films studied long into the night as she worked out what his state of mind would be at discovering his true identity.
James wanted more than a simple kiss from her. Much more. All the signs were there. Though she wanted to share that with him, now was not the time. He still had too many demons to exorcise. They both did.
Something of what she was thinking must have come through in their kiss because he suddenly pulled back, getting to his keens next to her. For a space of time, they simply watched each other. Then James looked away in embarrassment. He stood and extended both hands to help her up, holding on longer than necessary, and Natasha thought he would kiss her again. She swayed toward him slightly to give him permission.
Instead of taking the offer, he dropped her hands and moved back when a loud gust of wind slammed against the outer walls, rattling the windows and breaking the spell that had begun to weave itself around them.
The atmosphere, thick and tense, dissipated somewhat at the feel of the cold stone on the bottoms of her bare feet. Natasha returned to the living room to retrieve her socks and pull them on. Over her shoulder, she said, "I'm taking a walk before it gets dark."
He followed her toward the stairs, obviously intending to join her, stopping with a foot on the bottom step when the sound of the wind changed. Going into the kitchen, James stood in front of the windows and Natasha joined him a few seconds later. As if they'd choreographed it, they crossed their arms and huffed in annoyance because the snow had started falling. There wasn't enough to give the landscape that magical fairy kingdom look of which poets spoke. Just clumps here and there, and growing piles on the patio furniture.
James uncrossed his arms. "I'll bring in more wood for the fire."
Natasha followed suit. "I'll make more hot cocoa."
For the rest of the night, and the days and weeks that followed, what had nearly come to pass was never mentioned, nor was the kiss repeated.
Several Months Later
Winter had given way to spring and its promise of renewal and rebirth. Natasha and James had long since moved on from the amazing stone house in Arkansas, heading north to Missouri where they made a tidy sum at the gambling casinos in Branson They left town before the authorities caught on to their tricks, ending up in Aspen, Colorado.
There, Natasha had literally run into a mark from her time before joining SHIELD. He hadn't recognized her, but still, she thought it best to get out of town, just in case. Despite her promise to let James share in the decision making when it came time to go, she put her foot down just this once, insisting on traveling to a small town north of Alamogordo, New Mexico called Tularosa. From there, they would drive into the Lincoln National Forest to take up residence in a one and a half story home with an unusual feature for this part of the country: a widow's walk.
James glanced at her and back to the road. "Widow's walk?"
In the passenger seat, Natasha turned toward him as much as the seatbelt would allow. "It's a rooftop patio frequently found in nineteenth-century coastal homes. The wives of men who'd shipped out would watch for their husband's return. When they were lost at sea, the women would continue to watch for them dressed in their mourning clothes, hence the name widow's walk."
"Where are we meeting your contact?"
Pulling out her phone, Natasha called up the information and programmed it into the GPS system. "A coffee shop and diner called Café Olé, right off seventy before fifty-four."
Twenty minutes later, James parked the SUV and got out. He was staring through the shop's window, and the expression on his face said he was annoyed. "Are all your contacts men?"
Natasha saw where he was looking and grinned. She pointed to a woman sitting in the corner by herself. "That's our contact." Leading the way inside, Natasha greeted the woman with a smile. "Dobroye utro, Francine."
The woman looked up from the book she was reading, he expression brightening. She closed the book and stood to embrace Natasha. "Dobroye utro, Natalia. Sit. I'll get you and your friend something to drink."
Finley was the kind of woman who went unnoticed unless she wanted to be. She was average height, with light brown hair down to the middle of her back, brown eyes, a voluptuous figure hidden under a skirt that flirted with her ankles, and a matching top belted at the waist. Natasha caught James watching Francine walking away, her hips swaying side to side, and nudged him with an elbow. "Don't stare. She's married."
James scowled and she pursed her lips to keep from grinning.
Thirty minutes later, the duo was headed down the highway toward Alamogordo. Following the GPS, they eventually turned east into the mountains, crossing an old wooden bridge. They arrived at their newest safe house before sunset barely ahead of a rain storm that hit just as they pulled up in front.
The covered front porch offered protection from the rain except for the occasional gust of wind. Natasha let them in, and James shut the door. The foyer opened into a good sized living area. Where the outside had been designed to blend into the surrounding, the interior was meant for comfort.
Windows flanked the brick fireplace at the far end of the room, with doors on the side walls that opened into other rooms. The floor was wood polished to a high gloss, the middle covered with a deep pile rug in a nautical theme as was, presumably, the rest of the home. To her relief, the liquor cabinet was fully stocked. A wood box huddled by the door that led to the back porch. Natasha lifted the lid and found it full.
On the opposite wall between a set of doors was a spiral staircase that could only lead to the widow's walk.
She dropped her bag on one of the sofas, and went exploring, leaving James to do the same. The door to the right of the fireplace opened into the master bedroom and ensuite. Here, as in the living room, the coastal theme prevailed. Not her favorite. She'd only been in the house a few minutes, and already it was getting on her nerves.
The door on the left in the foyer had been left ajar. There, she found a more inviting décor, meant for relaxation and contemplation. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with enough first editions to send a bibliophile into ecstasy. It even had a bay window with a padded window seat. A perfect place to curl up with a book and a hot cup of tea.
Across from the library, she found a walk-in closet, empty except for jackets, coats, boots, sweaters, and umbrellas. In short, outer wear for any and all seasons. It was here she also found the usual weapons cache, secured with a fingerprint and DNA scanner. Finley had created a profile for Natasha and programmed it into the system. Pressing her thumb to the scanner, she waited through the authentication process. Once she was in, she added James to the database, just as she'd done at their last few stops. If he required the use of a weapon or had to call for back-up, he need only scan his thumbprint and speak the word "Ukulele". She saved the information and closed it up.
James joined her in the kitchen where she was checking out the food stores in the refrigerator and stand-alone freezer. The pantry included enough canned food to get them through until they could hit the grocery store. The wine rack in the dining room offered a diverse selection of wines.
"Two bedrooms with a bathroom in between, and a laundry room that leads to the garage," James told her as he opened and closed the cabinets on both sides of the kitchen.
"There's another covered porch off the dining room, and a master bedroom with an ensuite. Flip you for it." It was a token offering because James always insisted she take the larger of the bedrooms. "We can check out the widow's walk when the rain stops."
"Weather report says rain off and on for the next few days. We should go shopping tomorrow."
Natasha nodded. "Why don't you light a fire while I get dinner started?"
He left her alone, and she watched him go. Sometimes, when she least expected it, the amazing kiss they'd shard in Hot Springs popped into her head. Part of her wished they'd taken the next step. But the larger part, the sensible and practical aspects of her personality, was glad they hadn't.
A Few Weeks Later
Standing on the widow's walk, James huffed with annoyance. The rain had started several days ago and hadn't stopped except for a few minutes now and then and would continue for the rest of the day. A report on the radio called for flash flooding for the next three days. It had already damaged the bridge they came across to get here. Their only option to get to town was to take the long way around, adding several hours to the drive. Huffing, he went back inside.
he added another log to the fire that was almost out and stirred the embers. It flared to life again, casting a warm glow over the room. He brushed dirt from his hands while staring at Natasha's bedroom door. Since her return from the most recent raid, she spent most of her time either walking alone, in her room or in the library reading. Evenings, she sometimes joined him in watching a movie, but mostly she read, or whatever else she did in her room.
The kiss they'd shared in Arkansas was not repeated, and James got the feeling that she was distancing herself from him in order to prevent it from happening again. If this kept up, they'd have to talk because he missed the easy camaraderie they had before the revelation about Isolde. He'd come to terms with the fact that his child had perished with its mother so long ago. But still, he often wondered what that child would've been like, if he would've made a good father. What about a grandfather? By now, he could've had great-grandchildren as well.
The sound of movement in the library gave him Natasha's location. He went to the kitchen to make coffee then reconsidered. When she was feeling sad or introspective, she would have a glass of wine or a cup of hot cocoa.
He heated the milk, added the cocoa, squirted some whipped cream on top and carried it to the library. He rapped lightly on the door.
"Come in."
Natasha was sitting in the window seat covered with a small blanket, a book open in her lap. She smiled blandly at him, neither inviting nor off-putting.
"I brought you something to drink." She put her feet on the floor, and took the cup from him, using the spoon to give it a stir before taking a sip. Her eyes watched him over the lip of the cup as she pointed to the rocking chair, offering him a seat. So she wouldn't feel overwhelmed with him looming over her, he sat and just watched her watching him, the silence stretching until he felt compelled to fill it with sound beyond that of the rocking chair's creak. "Natasha…"
Her phone beeped to indicate she had a message. James had come to loathe that sound because it meant she would be leaving again. She sipped from the cup while scrolling the screen, inhaling sharply at whatever was displayed there.
Natasha took another sip of cocoa and handed him the cup. James followed her to her room, watching her tap out a quick message. "I have to leave again."
"The bridge was damaged. How will you get to the pick-up site?"
"We need to talk about that." She went into her room, leaving the door ajar. "The new intel has a much higher degree of accuracy than before."
James leaned his back against the wall next to the door. "Which means?"
"Stark believes he's located the scepter. We're meeting on-site." Drawers opened and closed as she packed for the trip. "Clint will be picking me up here."
TBC