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 43
Natasha waited for James to comment, but he stayed silent. "James? Did you hear me?"
His feet shifted on the wood floor. "Yes."
Going to the closet, she took out her Black Widow jumpsuit, the new one with blue piping along the sleeves and down both sides to her ankles. She and Clint would have to head directly for Sokovia, meaning she'd have to suit up here. "Would you like to meet him?"
"Thought you were in a hurry."
She snorted a laugh, and somehow that seemed to ease his anxiety. "It'll only take a moment. So is that a yes or no?"
Even through the wall, Natasha sensed that James wanted to agree. There was a long pause then, "Yes."
"If you're not comfortable doing this, it can wait."
He moved away from the door and back. "It's something I need to get used to. Meeting new people."
The phone beeped again. "Get ready. He'll be here soon." Natasha zipped up the front of her suit and sat on the bed to put on her boots. "The other raids were on the down-low. This one might attract more attention because of its location. The Avengers are big news these days."
"Understood."
"Would you make a pot of coffee, and fix a cup for Clint and me? Both black."
"Sure." A sigh that sounded like relief came just before his footsteps moved in the direction of the kitchen. But was he relieved that their conversation was over, or because he now had something to keep him busy so he wouldn't think about what was coming? If he could get through this without any major difficulties, then meeting the rest of the Avengers shouldn't be a problem, though Thor could be a little overwhelming. Stark too. With his easygoing personality, Bruce would be a snap, as long as James didn't find out they'd once been a couple.
Natasha ran a brush through her hair then dropped the brush and other personal items into her bag and zipped it closed. She took the bag containing her weapons from the shelf in the closet. Seeing her reflection in the mirror as she strapped on the dual thigh holsters, she looked like an old west gunslinger preparing for a high noon shootout.
The Makarovs slid easily into their holsters, as did her boot knives into their accustomed places. She'd wait until they were almost to the rendezvous point to put on the K-bar and widow's bites.
She carried the bags to the living room and dropped them on the end of the sofa. Adjusting the sleeves of her suit, she followed the scent of coffee to the kitchen. "Mmm. Smells good."
James turned at the sound of her voice, his eyes widening slightly in the afternoon light filtering through the windows. Until that moment, she hadn't realized he'd never seen her suited up. His gaze was a physical touch as he slowly and deliberately skimmed down the front of her body to her feet and made the return trip until he was looking into her eyes again.
Natasha took a step forward, causing James to take an involuntary step back. "Something wrong?"
His eyes stayed on her as he shook no. "Is that what you wear to avenge?"
"This old thing? It's been in my closet for years." She looked down at herself and back to James with a lopsided grin. "When the world sees you as a superhero, they expect you to dress the part."
~~O~~
James was saved from commenting by the beeping of the phone. Above that, a whistling, roaring noise signaled an incoming aircraft.
Natasha sighed and sent a response. "My ride's here. We better find that scepter soon. These raids were old last week."
He followed her through the back patio into the field. Looking up, he saw a silver aircraft come in for a smooth landing. The back hatch opened, and a brown haired man stepped out. He was shorter than James and dressed similar to Natasha in leather with a dark red arrow-like insert on the chest. He stopped at the bottom of the ramp, shoved his thumbs in his belt and smiled at Natasha in a way James didn't like, though he wasn't sure why.
As she walked toward him, the man kept eyeing James with an unreadable expression. They spoke quietly for a moment, the man's expression softening into what appeared to be affection when she handed him one of the coffee cups.
"James?" Natasha motioned him over with a smile. "Clint Barton, James Barnes."
James stopped next to her, letting his right arm brush against hers, nodding a greeting. Clint surprised him by smiling warmly and extending his right hand. "Barnes."
"Barton."
The men shook, the action bringing them within two feet of each other. Their eyes locked, and suddenly James had an almost primitive impulse to lash out, to punch Clint in the face. His left hand curled into a fist, and he could feel a rush of adrenalin. The urge to attack grew, became a creature living inside him longing to burst free.
~~O~~
Watching Clint and James size each other up, Natasha could practically smell the testosterone. She thought it funny until she felt the tension in James where his arm brushed against her, and it was increasing by the second.
A millisecond before he would've leapt on Clint with the intention of ripping him to shreds, Natasha took him by the hand and squeezed until looked down at her. "I'll be back as soon as possible. Once this crap with the scepter is over, we'll make arrangements for you to see Steve. Clint's good at keeping secrets, right?"
Clint's eyes returned to Natasha's. "Can't say." He aimed a thumb over his shoulder. "We gotta jet, Nat. Literally."
Before Natasha could move away, James released her hand, hooked his arm around her waist, and pulled her against his chest. Startled, she didn't resist when he leaned down to claim a kiss, holding it for a count of ten. For a moment after they separated, she gazed at him in wide-eyed wonder, changing it to a glare that had sent more than one man scurrying for cover, yet he seemed to take it in stride, even flashing her a quick wink, just a brief closing of one eye.
Without a word, Clint went back inside the craft carrying Natasha's bags. She followed, turning at the top of the ramp. Their eyes met once more as the ramp raised. She was pissed, to say the least. They would be having a long talk when she returned.
James backed up, his eyes the last thing she saw before the ramp closed. In them, she saw a distinct lack remorse.
Once they were in the air, Natasha sat in one of the jump seats, staring out the window and drinking her coffee, hoping to discourage conversation.
"What's going on, Nat?"
She should've known better. Clint seldom let anything go without comment, and that kiss was more that worthy of mention. Not just because it happened, but why. She had felt the waves of jealousy mixed with aggression when the two men shook hands. As if the alpha wolves from rival packs were meeting for the first time. Instinctive, and visceral. James had been about to beat the shit out of Clint, and she couldn't let that happen. She wanted them to be friends, for James to know that no one could or would replace him in her life. "Not what you think."
Clint made adjustments to his instruments before responding. "Then why did I get the feel he was challenging me for your affections?"
"He's acted on instinct for the last fifty years, having little or no social interaction. It's been a process, and there have been setbacks, but he's coming around. Slowly." Natasha glanced sideways at him with a half-grin. "This was his first encounter with someone I consider a friend. And you did come on a little strong."
He moved the mouthpiece out of the way so he could drink from the cup. "Just making sure he's worthy of you."
"We're not sleeping together, Clint. What you saw back there was just…"
"Barnes marking his territory. I wouldn't be surprised if he does the same thing with Thor, Stark, Rogers, and especially Banner, once he finds out you were a couple." He reached back to take her hand and give it a squeeze. "You may not think of him as your mate, but it's apparent to anyone with eyes that, for him, you're The One. If you don't feel the same, it's better to tell him now rather than later."
Natasha shook her head. She couldn't think about this now. They had a mission. Their focus had to be on taking down the HYDRA stronghold and retrieving the scepter. "Drop it, Hawkeye. How long till we reach the rendezvous?"
"Thirty minutes, give or take." He adjusted their heading once more. "I'm not letting this go, Nat."
She huffed at him. "Don't make me call Laura."
There was a long, tense pause. "You really fight dirty, don't you?"
Sokovia
HYDRA Base
Natasha held a piece of cloth to the wound in Clint's side and tapped her headset. "We're locked down out here."
Steve's voice crackled in her ear. "Then get to Banner. Time for a lullaby."
Now they would see if the Other Guy still responded to her. She could hear him roaring and crashing through the forest.
When she found him, he was facing away from her, no doubt looking for something else to smash. "Hey, Big Guy." The Other Guy turned toward Natasha with a grunt. A sliver of fear found its way in, and her mind flashed back to the helicarrier when he'd nearly killed her.
"Sun's gettin' real low." She got down on one knee, her left hand coming up, palm out. To her relief, he mirrored the gesture. She switched to palm up and he did too. Keeping her movements slow and deliberate, she drew her fingers from the middle of his forearm to his fingertips. He stumbled backward, turned and grabbed a tree for support as he shrunk in on himself, his skin changing from green to Bruce's lightly tanned coloring. He lost his footing, landing in the snow, and curling into a ball.
Thor arrived to carry Bruce to the quinjet, where Natasha helped him dress and put on headphones. It was said that music soothed the savage beast, and though she wouldn't say that the Other Guy was savage or a beast, music did wonders for him followed a transformation. His favorite was Casta Diva from the opera Norma.
In Act I, Norma sings a prayer to the moon goddess, asking for peace. What is not known by the other Druids is that Norma has fallen in love with a Roman. She secretly hopes no war will be fought so that her lover will be safe.
Natasha couldn't hear the music herself, but she didn't have to. She knew the words by heart because she'd chosen it.
Casta Diva, che inargenti
queste sacre antiche piante,
a noi volgi il bel sembiante
senza nube e senza vel…
Tempra, o Diva,
tempra tu de' cori ardenti
tempra ancora lo zelo audace,
spargi in terra quella pace
che regnar tu fai nel ciel…
All was going well and Bruce was on the road to recovery from the unexpected Code Green. Clint had been set up with an IV, and Cho was preparing the lab to work on the archer's wound. Thinking it would help, Natasha said the one thing she shouldn't have. "Thor, report on the Hulk."
The Asgardian raised a fist, grinning in triumph. "The gates of Hell are filled with the screams of his victims!"
Natasha glared at Thor when Bruce put his head in hands and groaned. Seeing his distress, the Asgardian tried to backpedal. "But not the screams of the dead, of course. No, no… Wounded screams. Mainly whimpering, a great deal of complaining and tales of… sprained deltoids and, uh, gout," he finished lamely.
It didn't take long to return to Stark Tower where Helen Cho was already set up to take care of Natasha's best friend. If Clint had been killed, it would've been her responsibility to tell Laura and the kids. To her relief, it turned out not to be necessary to find the words. She even found the spirit to tease him.
"You sure he's going to be okay? Pretending we need this guy is what keeps the team together." Natasha knew that Clint would find humor as well as a grain of truth to the statement. He winked at her while sucking down the nasty looking concoction Stark made when Clint complained of being thirsty.
Among all the other things that worried at her, Natasha wondered what James was doing. This time, he had access to the SUV. Would he go into town on his own, or wait for her to return so she could give him guidance? Whatever he chose to do, she would support it.
~~O~~
Maria climbed the stairs at Steve's side. He wanted to hold her close for his own comfort, but now wasn't the time. They still had work to do. "The two enhanced?"
She handed him a tablet. "Wanda and Pietro Maximoff. Twins. Orphaned at age ten when a shell collapsed their apartment building. Sokovia's had a rough history. It's nowhere special, but it's on the way to everywhere special."
Tired and trying not to show it, Steve asked, "Their abilities?"
"He's got increased metabolism and improved thermal homeostasis. Her thing is neuroelectric interfacing, telekinesis, mental manipulation."
If Steve didn't know her as well as he did, he'd think she was using scientific jargon on purpose, to confuse him. He stared at her blankly as if to say, "In English please". She responded with a silent huff. "He's fast and she's weird."
"Well, they're going to show up again."
"Agreed. File says they volunteered for Strucker's experiments. That's nuts."
Aggravated by her insinuation at he too was nuts for being involved in a similar experiment, Steve stepped into the lift, chose his floor, and faced front. "Right. What kind of monster would let a German scientist experiment on them to protect their country?"
She leaned close, one hand holding the lift doors so they wouldn't close, keeping her voice low. "It's like you said. You did it to protect your country, Steve. They want revenge. Two different reasons with the same effect." A technician came by, and Maria stepped back. "We're not at war, Captain."
Maria was correct in her assessment. Cause and effect. Steve softened his expression and the harshness of his tone. "They are."
Much Later
Natasha sat in the back of the quinjet, staring at the bulkhead. Though she used meditation techniques to clear her mind, she couldn't help going over the events of the last few days. When she left the safe house, little did she know that the Avengers would come so close to being defeated by an enemy created by members of their own team.
Through an unauthorized experiment on the scepter by Stark and Banner, a new threat to the world emerged. Ultron was the combined product of the scepter's Mind Stone, Jarvis, and a dormant peacekeeper program Stark had created.
Ultron showed himself at the party Stark threw to celebrate capturing the scepter and had nearly killed them all, including Helen Cho.
The team tracked Ultron to Wakanda. There, Wanda Maximoff had messed with their minds, causing the Avengers to experience hallucinations that affected them emotionally, inundating them with disturbing visions of the past, taunting them with what might have been, and twisting their reality until it was unrecognizable. All but Clint. Natasha didn't know how he'd escaped Maximoff's manipulations, but they were glad that he did.
To give the team a place to hide and time to regroup, Clint made the decision to let the others in on a secret known only to a select few: the existence of his wife and children.
Natasha had been almost catatonic when Clint helped her on board the quinjet after Bruce's Hulk-out in Johannesburg. She wanted to comfort Bruce, who seemed have come through the event worse off than any of them, but she couldn't muster the energy. Natasha would likely still be wallowing in self-pity if not for Lila.
When Clint's daughter asked, "Did you bring Auntie Nat with you?" the sound of the little girl's voice, so excited at the prospect of seeing her, Natasha had snapped out of it. At least enough to hug the girl and interact with the others.
She watched Bruce as he climbed to the second floor to shower and change into the clothes Clint had given him. Somehow, she knew he planned on taking off. When he came out of the bathroom, she was waiting for him, and managed to talk him out of leaving.
Ultimately, the Avengers defeated Ultron and his murderbot army, and in the process, a new life was created. He called himself The Vision.
I am not Ultron. I am not Jarvis. I am… I am.
Without his help, and that of the Maximoff's, who had seen the error of their ways, the Earth would be devoid of all organic life. Nothing would've remained that wasn't made of metal.
"Yo, Nat. Wheels down in ten," Clint called out from the cockpit. "You gonna be okay? Want me to hang around a while?"
Putting on a smile for his sake, she came forward. "You have a family to get home to. I'll be fine. I just need rest."
~~O~~
Sitting on the shore of a small lake, James watched the water undulating in the light breeze. The scent of the water and the visual effects helped lull him into a state of relaxation, to calm the turmoil of emotions after another of his disturbing dreams. He couldn't call them nightmares because he no longer woke up screaming.
The flashbacks were coming less often and weren't as intense. Now they were more like random memories bouncing around inside his head. Through meditation and intense physical exertion, he was able to moderate their impact on his emotions. To keep them under control in social situations, hopefully. The only way to know for sure was to try it out. With Natasha there as a sort of buffer, he would know if the situation were getting out of hand.
When Natasha returned, he would suggest they go into town for dinner. He hadn't used any of the money they made at the casinos, and he wanted to take her on a real date. Dinner, dancing, a walk in the park, whatever she wanted.
A familiar sound Dopplered through the sky. What did Natasha call the plane? A quinjet. That meant she was on her way home. Should he apologize to her and Clint for his reaction at their first meeting, or just let it go? Letting it go seemed the most logical answer. From what he'd observed in recent movies, men got into, what did they call them? Pissing contests all the time, though they didn't actually challenge each other to see who could piss the farthest. It was a metaphor for the natural aggression of human males.
James pulled on his socks and boots, tied the laces, and headed back to the house at a fast jog. By his calculations, he would arrive at the same time as the plane.
It banked around and landed closer to the house this time. Arms crossed, James waited impatiently or the ramp to lower. Natasha's feet rang on the metal as she slowly exited the quinjet. Instead of her superhero suit, she wore slacks, a long sleeved shirt that was too big for her and a jacket. Her bags hung from her shoulder as if she'd forgotten they were there. When she looked at him, her eyes were out of focus, as if she were seeing him, yet not.
She walked past him without a word. He stopped her, holding onto her upper arms until her eyes focused on him. Her vacant stare, the sense that she wasn't completely aware of her surroundings, spoke of an emotionally disturbing experience.
James left her standing on the patio as he ran up the ramp to confront Clint. Their eyes locked, and the anger swelled. But lashing out wouldn't get him the answers he needed. Taking several deep breaths, he was able to calm himself enough to ask, "What the hell happened?"
Clint's eyes flicked to Natasha still standing in the same spot where James left her, and back to him.
"This was a rough one. More so than any before. Let her be for a while and be there for her when she's ready to talk."
"Was it something you did?"
The other man snorted humorlessly and shook his head. "I was the lucky one. All I can say is give her time. She'll come around eventually. You'll have to work out on your own when to push and when to back off." James nodded and turned away. He looked over his shoulder when Clint touched his arm. His eyes a dangerous shade of blue-gray. "I know how you feel about her, and I'm only going to say this once. If you hurt her, there will be nowhere on this or any other planet you can hide. Got it?"
James nodded once, and the hand was removed. He ran down the ramp, and soon the quinjet was gone, lost in the clouds that hovered over the mountains.
He rejoined Natasha, taking possession of the bags, and holding her hand. She resisted at first, then followed him meekly into the house where he sat her on the sofa, set her bags on the bed in her room, and went into the ensuite to start a bath. He added her favorite bath salts, lit the candles, and turned on the music she preferred.
He laid her pajamas and a pair of socks on the bed and put her clothes in the laundry basket, except for her catsuit. That, he hung up, and dropped the boots and shoes on the closet floor.
James opened the second bag and found it full of weapons. He took out one of the wands and touched a button on the side. It lit up, humming with electrical power. He shut it off, put it back, and placed the bag on the top shelf of the front closet with the rest of the weapons.
He went to the kitchen, poured a glass of the wine she liked, and put that in the bathroom too.
Back in the living room, Natasha was still sitting in the same place, having taken off her jacket and shoes. She looked up and smiled when he stopped in front of her. He held out a hand, and she took it, letting him lead her into the ensuite. Her fingers briefly tightened on his and let go. James left her alone when she grasped the hem of her shirt, shutting the door behind him.
Crossing the living room to the kitchen, he set about making them both something to eat.
~~O~~
The door closed behind James with a soft click. Natasha sighed as she got undressed and slid into the warm scented water. The one feature to recommend this safe house, besides the widow's walk, was the enormous ensuite tub. It was deeper and wider than normal, more than big enough to hold two people comfortably. Not that she intended trying it out. It just meant more room for her.
Thirty Minutes Later
The music grated on her nerves. The water was cooling, and her stomach was growling. Time to get out. James needed her. Maybe being here was the best way to sort out her jumbled emotions. She managed to keep it together through the fight in Sokovia, and during the first part of the clean-up. But now, with nothing to think about besides the vision Wanda had shown her, long buried memories and emotions intruded during sleeping and waking hours, and she was be helpless to prevent them.
Out here in the country where it was just the two of them, she might be able to get her head straight again. Oh, she could pretend in front of others, smile and joke around, give the guys a hard time, but the dark places would always be there, waiting, watching, preparing to pounce when she least expected it.
Standing wet and naked on the bathmat in front of the mirror, Natasha examined the bruises all over her body. Some were painful, others merely unpleasant to look at. With all the shit that happened, she thought her muscles would be sore, and they probably would be tomorrow. That didn't worry her. Physical aches and pains were temporary. Emotional pains lingered for years. Sometimes forever.
Natasha found her hairbrush on the counter and smiled because James had been kind enough to unpack her bag. Her toothbrush was in the porcelain holder in the shape of a ship's anchor with the toothpaste next to it. She ran the brush through her hair, thinking about what Clint said when he picked her up, that James loved her. The more likely scenario was that James had fallen for her the way a patient sometimes has affectionate feelings for a medical doctor or therapist.
Deciding to just let the situation coast, Natasha slipped into the pajamas James had laid out. She pulled on the socks and padded out to the living room. When she first came in, she hadn't noticed that the furniture had been rearranged in her absence.
One of the sofas now faced the fireplace with the armchairs angled so that a semi-circle had been formed. The end tables were placed within easy reach, and the coffee table had been cleared of all the nautical knick-knacks and magazines. In their place was a crystal vase with several early blooming flower buds and some interesting leaves still attached to twigs. Did he do it for himself or for her? And what happened to the other sofa?
The cabinet housed the entertainment center: video games, television, Blu-Ray, stereo, and a selection representative of several different genres of film and television. Plus there was Netflix and online games. It was on wheels so it could be moved to the optimal viewing location for the occupants. Natasha made herself comfortable and pulled the blanket over her lap as James returned with a tray. He set it over her lap.
When she finished eating, he took the tray away and came back. "What happened?"
"Can we talk about it later?" She covered a yawn, and James was at her side in an instant, taking her hand and leading her into the bedroom. He held the covers up so she could get in, adjusted the pillows, and turned out the light, leaving her alone, though his footsteps didn't immediately retreat from outside her door.
Hours Later
James shot to a sitting position on the sofa where he'd fallen asleep. He wanted to be close in case Natasha needed anything, though she'd likely get it herself rather than ask him to do it for her. That didn't mean he couldn't at least try to take care of her. She was mentally strong, stronger than anyone he'd ever known except Steve. But even the strongest substance had a breaking point. Just because you haven't found it yet didn't mean it wasn't there.
Something had awakened him. He listened carefully, hardly breathing as he tried to identify the sound. There! A small squeak. Barely discernable over the patter of the rain on the roof. Like the whimpering of a puppy taken from its mother too soon. He heard it once again, and realized it was coming from Natasha's room.
Slowly, James opened the door and stepped into the room, closing it behind him. There was little light, just the occasional flash of lightning to see by. He moved around till he could see Natasha's face. She was on her back, head turned to the side, her face pinched in fear or pain, he couldn't tell. One arm, the left one, was above her head near the bedpost. Her movements were odd, as if she believed she'd been chained to the bed. A few words were muttered he couldn't understand.
Getting down on one knee, James watched as a single tear escaped, leaving a wet trail over her temple into her hair. Taking hold of her wrist, he eased her hand down, and lay it on her stomach. As he got to his feet, that same hand reached out, hovering in the air. "Nyet. Ne idut."
He moved to the other side of the bed, hesitating a moment before lying down on top of the covers. In her sleep, Natasha rolled onto her side facing away from him. He took the hint and spooned her as close as the thickness of the blankets would allow. Soon, the restlessness calmed, and before long, he joined her in sleep.
James was awakened sometime after daybreak by the weak sun pushing its way through the windows. At first, he didn't know where he was, then he remembered. Natasha was still asleep on her side facing the closet. Taking care not to jostle her awake, he got out of the bed and went to the door, giving her one last lingering look before closing it behind him and returning to his room.
TBC
Norma is a tragedia lirica or opera in two acts by Vincenzo Bellini with libretto by Felice Romani after Norma, ossia L'infanticidio (Norma, or The Infanticide) by Alexandre Soumet. It was first produced at La Scala in Milan on 26 December 1831.
The opera is regarded as a leading example of the bel canto genre and a major soprano aria, Casta Diva, in act 1, is one of the most famous of the nineteenth century.
English translation for Casta Diva:
Pure Goddess, whose silver covers
these sacred ancient plants,
we turn to your lovely face
unclouded and without veil…
Temper, oh Goddess,
the hardening of you ardent spirits
temper your bold zeal,
scatter peace across the earth
thou make reign in the sky…
Nyet. Ne idut. = No. Don't go.