A/N: Spoiler alert for Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Avengers: Age of Ultron, Captain America: Civil War, Ant-Man, and Spiderman: Homecoming.

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. We're into year two of the Year From Hell.

Note 2: This story is being rewritten from chapter 45 forward to more closely conform to the MCU.

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 53

The Barton Farm

Early Evening

The sun hadn't been down for long, and it was time for Laura to make her move. She shrugged into her jacket, grabbed Natasha's from the hall closet, and went out the front door. Natasha was sitting on the porch pretending to read, but her eyes were on her phone instead of the book. "I'm making a grocery run while Clint puts the kids to bed. Wanna ride along?"

She quickly powered down the phone, closed the book, and took the jacket Laura held out. "Sure."

Together they walked to the SUV parked near the barn. So there wouldn't be an awkward silence on the drive, Laura kept up a steady monologue on her husband's idea for expanding the work space that involved knocking out yet another wall and tearing up even more of the floor.

When they reached town, Laura turned into the parking lot of the Crazy Eights Saloon. Natasha shot her a glare which she elected to ignore as they walked to the entrance. Inside, the music was loud and the room nearly full. Laura got a beer for Natasha and a soft drink for herself while Natasha found a table in the back where she could see the exits and still have her back to the wall. Laura joined her, passed over the beer, and plucked a pretzel from the basket on the table.

Natasha nudged her and pointed behind the bar. One of the shelves held several bottles of Forbidden Peak Vineyards Merlot, the wine the Barton vineyard produced. She flashed a smug grin, took a long drink from the bottle and set it on the coaster provided. "Talk to me, Nat. Why are you really here?"

"Clint invited me."

The sound Laura made she knew was reminiscent of her husband's scoff, which was always followed by…

"Bullshit."

Natasha's eyes widened in shock. "Excuse me?"

"You're hiding, but from what?"

She picked up her glass and slanted a death glare over the rim, and like always, it didn't even faze Laura.

"Here's a hint: yourself." Natasha looked away without saying a word. Laura reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. "You're in love with Captain Rogers' friend, aren't you?"

~~O~~

Dimming the light in her eyes and tightening the skin around them, and that of her forehead, Natasha hoped to convey that it was an off-limits subject. Naturally, her first instinct was to deny any such thing. Love was for children. That's what Dr. Petrovich and the staff at the R2 facility had told all the girls from day one. What was the use of falling for a man who deserved more than she could give him? Raising her chin, she let the tiniest bit of haughtiness color her tone, "I'm not going to dignify that with a response."

"That's your prerogative, Nat. Won't change anything. You've fallen hard for this guy."

She looked away, telling Laura with the action that the conversation was over, but her friend wasn't done. Nothing much changes, does it?

"Does he feel the same?"

Crunching on a pretzel to give her time to formulate a response, Natasha quickly swallowed at the sudden increase in the volume and tone of the voices over by the pool tables. Two men were arguing over the lay of a ball. The shouting escalated to shoving then their friends joined in. Soon, fists were being thrown and tables overturned. Men and women alike hit, punched, and kicked anyone who came close enough, regardless if they were friend or foe.

Seeing the fear on Laura's face, Natasha decided to take matters into her own hands. She finished off her beer and pushed back from the table, whispering, "I'll be right back."

"Nat!" Laura touched her arm. "What about…" she nodded toward the camera over the bar.

Likely there were more. Natasha took out her phone, tapped in a command and handed it to Laura. "Hold this."

Flexing her hands, she stood, and left the table.

~~O~~

Clutching the phone, Laura watched with dread as Natasha waded into the middle of the fight. Her mouth dropped open at seeing her friend take down the brawlers while barely breaking a sweat. Most of the men and some of the women outweighed Natasha, yet she dealt with them as if it were just another day's work. Maybe for her, it was. That brought to mind all the times she'd watched Natasha and Clint working out together. Still, Laura was stunned, seeing it all first-hand. Not on the television or internet videos.

When the last of the fight-mongers had been subdued, either stunned or unconscious, Natasha came back to the table and took her seat, brushing the hair from her eyes. "Now, where were we?"

Laura dropped into her chair and pushed the phone across the table. Natasha tapped another command and pocketed the device. "I scrambled all security cameras and cell phones recording within a hundred-yard radius. Anything they upload will show only static."

Shaking her head, Laura indicated the formerly rowdy group being tended to by those who hadn't been involved in the actual fighting. "I've watched you work out with Clint and replayed the videos from Manhattan over and over, but this is the first time I've seen you in action. That was," she shook her head in amazement, "mind-blowing. Have you really been doing this since you were seven?"

"About that, yes." Natasha tossed the phrase in the air as if the words were bubbles to be carried away on a breeze at the same time one of the servers rushed over with refills and scurried away. The woman tossed an urgent glance over her shoulder as if she were afraid that Natasha would come after her next.

A few minutes later, the owner, who was also the bartender, greeted the sheriff's deputies at the door, pointing out the culprits nursing various bumps, bruises, and split lips before nodding in Natasha's direction.

"How're you going to explain it to the cops?" Laura whispered quietly, a hand over her mouth to hide that she was speaking. She was again surprised at Natasha's reaction.

She smirked. "Won't have to."

One of the deputies came towards them, pen and pad in hand. He tipped his hat. "Evening, Ms. Barton." He turned to Natasha, gracing her with the same courtesy, adding a tentative smile. "Ma'am, Ward there says you're the one who stopped the fight from gettin' outta hand. Care to explain?"

Natasha scrunched her eyes in confusion. "Izvinite?"

"Say what?"

"YA ne ponimayu."

The deputy looked to Laura for an explanation. Almost too late, she figured it out. "She doesn't speak English, Stan."

"¿Hablas Español?" the deputy offered.

Laura didn't hide her annoyance, letting it come out in her tone and expression. "Russian, Stan. She speaks Russian."

The man, forty-ish, tall, slender, and strong with close cropped brown hair, pushed his hat back on his head. "What's a Ruskie doing in Columbia, Washington?"

Laura narrowed her eyes in mock annoyance. "She's a long-lost cousin. We're having a girl's night out while Clint spends time alone with the kids."

Stan held his hands up. "No insult intended, ma'am. Maybe you can tell me how…"

He cut off when Natasha began chattering away in Russian. Laura knew a few words, but not enough. She held Natasha's hand to calm her, and soon, she ran out of steam. Shooting a glare at Stan, Laura chastised him, "Now you've upset her. We're leaving. If you need anything else, speak to my husband."

Having dealt with Clint in the past, Stan gave every indication that he didn't want to do it again. "Yes, Ms. Barton." Again, he tipped his hat to Natasha. "Welcome to Columbia, ma'am. Enjoy your stay."

The women gathered their jackets and purses, paid their tab, and left the bar. In the truck, Laura turned to Natasha. "What was that about?"

Her companion chuckled and flipped the visor down to refresh her lipstick. "Whenever Clint and I get pulled over by the cops while on a mission, I remind him 'now remember, you're deaf, and I don't speak English'. Works better than a tight sweater and cleavage."

"Unless you run into someone who speaks the language. As many languages as you speak, I'm guessing that doesn't happen often." They drove in silence for a few minutes then Laura returned to the original subject. She shook a finger at her companion. "Don't think this little incident distracted me from our conversation."

Natasha shrugged one shoulder. "Worth a try."

"So, are you in love with, um, sorry, Clint didn't tell me his name."

"James." The rueful smile turned into a small frown that had a touch of wistfulness about it. "Falling in love was never in the cards for me, Laura. What good would it do? I can't give a man what you and Clint have. James, or any man, really, should have someone who loves him unconditionally. Someone who can give them children and a home. I wasn't trained for the life of a soccer mom."

Laura resisted shaking her head as she signaled and turned into the discount super-store. "Training has nothing to do with love, especially what you went through. Lila, Cooper, and even Nathaniel, get so excited when they know you're coming. I can see the affection you have for them, and for me and Clint. You're my husband's best friend. If you felt nothing for any of us, you wouldn't come around, and you certainly wouldn't be sneaking into Nathaniel's room for a late-night visit when you should be asleep." Natasha tried to interrupt, but Laura pushed on. "You can't spend so much time with someone, sharing your deepest, darkest secrets, and not feel something." She paused to let it sink in. "Just the fact that you slept with him tells me more is going on than you're admitting to."

Natasha turned in her seat, eyes narrowed and arms crossed, dismissing Laura's comments with, "That was just stress relief."

Laura parked and they got out. She slung her purse over her head so it was across her body, bumping against her right hip. "Bullshit again. You're in love with him. I could tell by the way you said his name. Soft and a little breathless."

Finally, Natasha looked away and let out a hard breath. "You see way too much, Laura. I should've gone to Arkansas with Atticus."

As expected, Laura scoffed, annoying the hell out of Natasha, to go by the look on her face. "You can stay with us tonight and tomorrow night. After which you will call your handler and get back to work. Unless you'd rather go looking for James."

"Fine! I'll go, but not until your husband and I spar. I've got dinner and the pride of the Black Widows riding on the outcome."

This time, Laura laughed out loud. "Don't know why you two bother. We all know you'll wipe the floor with my husband's ass, and then pay for the meal anyway." Hooking an arm around Natasha's, she turned them both in the direction of the entrance. As they got close, Laura grabbed a stray cart. "Come on. I want the house to still be standing when we get back."

The Bennett Home

Joliet, Illinois

When they returned home from the recital, Oliver had taken Christine's hand and smiled in the way he did to let her know he wanted them to be intimate after the children went to bed. Christine wanted to as well, but couldn't under the circumstances. Considering her thoughts and actions the last few days, she felt… unworthy of a good man like Oliver, and making love with him seemed almost hypocritical, using him to make her feel better about everything Sonja had made her do.

That stopped her in her tracks. From all that she now knew about the Tesseract, Loki's scepter, and the actions of those under its spell-thanks to the indoctrination chair-no court would hold her accountable. Still, she thought it best to stay in her office until she was certain Oliver had gone to sleep. He would never interrupt her while she was working, just as she wouldn't think of barging in while he was on a conference call with a client.

She would use the time to perform a sort of meditation to assist with easing back into skills she'd hardly used since she was fourteen. Well, technically, she'd already turned sixteen by the time she turned back into a "civilian".

Looking back on that chapter of her life, she smiled, recalling the day she and her mother got the call that changed everything about her early teens.

Now, Christine would use that expertise to fool a single person instead of millions. She made herself comfortable in the armchair, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. She let it out and inhaled again, and just knew everything would be okay. She'd once again be dangerous, but fun. Any other eventuality was unacceptable. She'd show Sonja who was the best HYDRA agent for the job, and it wasn't her.

The Nelson Home

Sioux Falls, South Dakota

"All I'm saying is it's silly for us to be paying for two places when you sleep here almost every night, Kiba." Dooney called out from the kitchen. "Babe?"

He heard the bathroom door open, the light went out, and Kiba joined him at the kitchen island. She picked up the knife and two bell peppers to help with dinner. "My lease is up in a couple weeks. I'll take a day off then to pack and move."

"Perfect. The café is opening the week after, but I could help."

"No need. I'll grab a some of the guys and gals from the office. Don't really have much. The apartment came furnished. Just need a truck. Later, I can send for my things from home." Kiba tossed the peppers in with the other vegetables. "Onion." She put out her hand and caught the white vegetable as it rolled across the counter, catching it before it fell off the edge. "Thanks."

With quick and efficient movements, she had it peeled and chopped in less than two minutes crediting her stint in the Army for her efficiency with a knife. The oil in the wok popped and snapped as Kiba carried the bowl of vegetables and steak pieces over to the stove. "Did you notice the counter's off level?"

"Saw it the day the realtor showed me around. Clint knows a thing or two about renovating. I'll have him look at it when the family comes for a visit."

He passed her the wooden spatula without being asked. Dooney was such a sweet and thoughtful man, Kiba wondered how she'd gotten so lucky to find him. "Sounds like a plan."

The cabinets opened and closed. Dooney set two plates near the stove, and carried the silverware and napkins to the dining room table while the food sizzled in the wok, filling the air with enticing scents.

Next, he went to the cabinet and took down two large mugs for hot chocolate to combat the chill of the night. With her free hand, Kiba gave the milk a quick stir.

After setting the table, Dooney came to check on the milk, pouring it into the cups and giving each a vigorous stir to mix the cocoa. "How long till dinner?"

"Nearly done." She turned the heat down, and went to the sink to wash her hands.

"Thanks for taking over the cooking tonight." Dooney carried the cups of hot cocoa to the table while Kiba turned off the stove, filled their plates, and joined him.

"Well, you're worth the trouble." Even now, she was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that Dooney and Clint, two very different personalities, were related by marriage. When Dooney told her the truth, she'd been more than a little surprised because she, Wilson, Santino, and Sullivan had all thought Clint was single, especially after his performance with the real estate agent from whom they'd rented the brownstone. Clint had played the woman like a Stradivarius. Though now that she thought about it, no one had seen him do more than flirt or shake hands with any woman.

The couple ate in silence for a while, just enjoying each other's company. She got up to get them refills of hot cocoa, talking over her shoulder. "Forgot to tell you. Jacob Lester came into the precinct today."

"Come to confess his sins so Santa doesn't put coal in his stocking?"

"Not even close." She carried a mug in each hand as she returned to the table. "He wants to be a cop. He's enrolled in Minnehaha County College starting next fall. Once her gets his degree, he'd transferring to university where his major will be law enforcement with a minor in psychology."

~~O~~

While Kiba was washing the dishes, Dooney thought about how best to bring up his illness and subsequent cure. He hadn't told her where he'd been during the month he was "missing", and debated doing so now, even with the non-disclosure agreement. He knew that Kiba was the woman he'd been waiting for, the one to make his life feel complete. Or mostly. There was still the question of kids. He wanted three or four, but hadn't discussed it with her yet, and now seemed like exactly the wrong time.

"I told you about the clinic where I was treated for my leukemia."

She glanced over her shoulder. "What about it?"

He took a deep breath and let it out. "When I went to my doctor to begin treatment, he told me it was too late, that the leukemia was too far advanced. Instead of a couple of years, I only had months, and they wouldn't be pretty." He drank the last of his cocoa, making a face because it was now lukewarm. "Rather than let my family and friends go through the pain of watching me die a little at a time, I decided to end it while I still had a choice."

He slashed a hand through the air to stop the angry tirade he could see building in Kiba's eyes. "Save it. Clint and Laura have already raked me over the coals. In fact, Clint's the one who introduced me to the doctors who ultimately saved my life. And apparently, it came at a cost. You see, in order to save my life, they sorta had to reprogram my DNA…"

~~O~~

Dooney finished his story, and sat there waiting for Kiba's response. She stayed quiet and he did too, letting her absorb everything she'd learned tonight. It went on so long, he was compelled to speak or go mad. "Are you angry that I didn't consult you, or that I didn't tell you sooner?"

She let the water out and dried her hands as she faced him. "Neither. We weren't a couple when all this happened, Doon. It was your choice." Moving in close, she wrapped her arms around him and laid her head on his chest. "I am, however, slightly miffed that you almost took your own life, but I'm just glad I didn't lose you before we even got to know each other."

"Me too." Moving back, she took his hand and led him to the sofa facing the fireplace. He put his arm around her and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"You know, we've made all these plans for the future, building a life together, yet neither of us has said the words." Her fingers brushed the long hairs away from his face, and she smiled. "I love you, Duane."

"And I love you, Kiba." They shared a long kiss, then Dooney got up, pulling her after him down the hall to what would soon be their bedroom. "Bedtime. I have to be at the shop early."

At the door, they kissed again. "And I start on the night shift in a couple of days. You get some sleep. I'll clean up and be in later."

Morning

Dooney got behind Stella's wheel, started her up, and headed for the Nook and Nosh. Today was the next round of staff interviews. Cam and he would be doing them together.

The incident from the previous night was never far from his mind. He finally admitted to himself that he'd been spooked by everything that Cho and Banner had done to him. What he needed was reassurance that there would be no long-term effects.

Holding his phone in one hand, he debated for all of five seconds then made a call. "Clint? Dooney … Settlin' in just fine… Weather's not so bad. Just some rain. We're expecting more in a few days. Look, I didn't call to give you a weather report… Yeah, very funny… I have a question about those doctors, Cho and Banner… You trust them, right? … No reason. Guess I should've asked before I let them play with my DNA… Kiba loves her job and the café is opening in a few weeks… Interviewing staff with my new business partner, Camilla Barlow. She owns the coffee shop next door. We're making it all one place with an area for reading and quiet contemplation… When you come for a visit, we'll show you the sights… You're staying with us of course… There's plenty of room…" Dooney sighed. "Yes, I'm gonna talk it over with Kiba. You really think I'm that stupid? Hmph! Speak for yourself… hanging up now."

Dooney thumbed the end key, and just for a moment, sat there thinking. His call about Cho and Banner wouldn't be passed off as idle conversation. At some point, Clint would corner him and demand an explanation.

The light changed; Dooney pulled through the intersection and into the parking lot of the Nook and Nosh, and into the space that would soon have his name on it. Several people were milling around in front even though interviews wouldn't start for another forty minutes.

Taking a few deep breaths to clear his mind, Dooney put on a smile of greeting as he let himself and the potential staff members into the café that wasn't quite finished. He motioned for them to have seats and went to greet Cam, who was already hard at work, as were the contractors installing the additional kitchen equipment to supplement what she already had in the coffee shop.

"Mornin', Cam. Ready to get started?"

Cam smiled, showing a full set of pearly white teeth. "I am. Though you look like five miles of bad road, Duane. Didn't sleep?"

"Not really. Been thinking about proposing to Kiba when my family comes."

"Thought you'd already popped the question."

Shrugging sheepishly, Dooney booted up his computer where he would view the applications and résumés of prospective employees. "Not officially. If I had my way, she'd be sportin' the family heirloom passed down from my great-great-grannie."

"Why isn't she?"

His smile dimmed. Mom was wearin' it the day she died."

Cam placed her hand over his. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. How did it happen?"

"She was on the Superior Airlines flight in '89 that crashed on take-off." His partner's eyes softened into sympathy, and Dooney could see she was sorry she brought it up. He gave her a half-hearted smile. "No worries. You couldn't've known. Let's forget about it for now and get to work. I see more potential employees headed our way."

At An Undisclosed Location

Yuri Rozhenko stared at the grainy photo taken from a traffic camera just two days before. Rubbing the back of his left hand with the right, he fought the urge to scratch the new tattoo that was still healing. His contact assured him that the woman on the right in profile was indeed Natalia Romanova, the Black Widow. Yes, he knew she was now going by the Americanized version of her birth name, but he would not give her, or anyone else, the satisfaction of using it. In his opinion, she had sold out, as the Americans said. She'd given up a life of prestige as a mercenary to consort with those less worthy of her and her talents.

The name Clint Barton came to mind. The man was a smartass with a big mouth. He'd grown up in a circus, of all things. Until going to work for SHIELD, he'd had no formal education or training, except for what he learned in the circus. Once Yuri eliminated Barton, with Romanova watching, she would be so demoralized by the death of her lover, her own demise would be a welcome respite.

His phone rang and he answered immediately, speaking in Russian. "Da?"

The caller responded in kind. "This is Nadia. Passage has been booked to the United States on the noon flight, and a room has been secured for you at the InterContinental Hotel as Victor Judge, an accountant from Portland, Oregon, in town to attend a conference. How is your English these days?"

Yuri laughed, switching to English, which he spoke with barely any accent. Not enough to be noticed. "Better than yours, Nadia."

She too switched to English. "In America, I am known as Nadine," she chastised him. "Your travel documents will come by courier within two hours. When you arrive at the hotel, you will receive the address of the strike team. They will have access to any weapons you may require. If you need anything else, let me know through the usual channels. Do svidaniya."

Queens, New York

School Cafeteria

"Sooo… you lied."

The incredulity in Ned displayed hit Peter between the eyes and he looked away with an embarrassed shrug. "At least they don't know you know. You won't be on their radar."

"Dude, seriously! You lied! And not to just anyone. You like to Captain America and the Falcon!" Now his best friend's eyes were bugging out, and it was all kinds of creepy to see, much less have it aimed in his direction. "That's almost as bad as lying to your parents! Or, uh, your Aunt May."

Ned looked around and leaned close, dropping his voice to whisper. "What if you keep going after criminals when they told you to stop and they find out? You're gonna be… No. The Avengers won't bother throwing you in jail. You'll just disappear one day and no one will ever find your body."

Annoyed that Ned wouldn't let it go, Peter cut a piece of his mystery meal that claimed to be meatloaf and speared it with the fork. "They're not like that." He thought for a moment, and suddenly, he wasn't so sure. "Probably not. I think. All I gotta do is find out who's posting the videos and pay them a visit. Put the fear of Spiderman into them so they'll stop."

His friend looked away in embarrassment. "Um, yeah, about that…"

Shocked and incensed, Peter inhaled deeply, prepared to fill the air with verbal abuse the likes of which Ned had never heard from his best friend before. The words went unspoken when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He glanced around to make sure no one was watching as he slipped it out, holding it under the edge of the table out of sight.

His mouth dropped open and he closed it with a snap. "Oh, shit!" Turning his head to thoroughly scan the room, he saw nothing unusual. No one who seemed out of place.

"What's wrong?"

Without a word, Peter held the phone so Ned could read the text that had come from a blocked number.

Gussy's meatloaf has always sucked. Next time, get the burrito.

TBC

Tattoos:

If you've seen Iron Man 2, then you'll be somewhat familiar with the practice of Russian Criminal Tattoos as worn by Mickey Rourke's character, Ivan Vanko. The information below was found on Wikipedia.

During the 20th century in the Soviet Union there was a strong culture of tattoos being used to indicate one's criminal career and rank within Russian criminal and prison communities. Specifically for those imprisoned under the Gulag system of the Soviet era, the tattoos served to differentiate between who was an authority or thief in law, and who was a political prisoner. The practice grew in the 1930s, peaking in the 1950s and declining in popularity in the 1970s and 1980s.

In 1985, perestroika and the new increase in tattoo parlors made tattooing fashionable, and further diluted the status of tattoos as a solely criminal attribute.