A/N: This came from a little idea formed after watching Black Widow. I've been on a large hiatus from fanfiction, though have a long summer of night work where I thought I could spew a little imagination onto the page. If you like where it's going, stick around - we've got a slow burn coming!
Disclaimer: All characters, situations, plot and scenes are taken from the MCU owned by Marvel and Disney. This is a written retelling, simply for fun.
.: The Only Way Home - Chapter One :.
I'm humbled by the smiling pie in front of me– its shortcrust edges and gelatinous berry center filling the kitchen with flavor– too fancy to be from New York. No, the pie itself had come from a quiet little French patisserie in the south, where the fruit was sharp and sweet, and the pastry was blind-baked in a clay oven. There was no note attached, though piped cream had been swirled to form an 'x' at its center. An oh-so threatening message.
A warning.
"That's the third one this month." Steve said, coming into the kitchen with an armful of wood for the fire. Winter had crept in overnight, the biting fingers of frost finding its way into our penthouse apartment, and its 250-bag lease.
I mumbled something half-heartedly and closed the lid to the pink-box, not wanting him to read too much into the sugar, egg and icing that was my kind admirer.
The wood fell to a thump on the ground, and Steve gave one of those boyish half-smiles that went kindly with a flushed face. "Error at the bakery?"
"Something like that."
"Something like that, she says." I hear him laugh, his footsteps getting nearer. He appears at my side, a hand outstretched for the lid.
My movements are quick, and I fight off his fingers with a slap.
"I'm not allowed to eat this one either?"
"Steve."
"Natasha."
"We don't know who sent it. It could be laced with all sorts of poison."
"Just a bite. I'm sure a little cyanide wouldn't kill me."
I rolled my eyes and stepped aside, welcoming him and his golden-retriever grin forward. He took a fork from the drawer and began to pick at the death-marked dessert, not seeming fazed by its ingredients.
"Have you heard from Tony?" I asked, a half-attempt at conversation.
Steve and Stark weren't on speaking terms, though for what hundredth reason, I didn't know. Perhaps the one time I had been left out of the loop… something that didn't happen often.
Gone were the days I braided Stevie's hair and burped Tony over my shoulder. They were both as bad as each other, and my patience for their girly squabbles had worn to nothing.
Though this time felt a little different – a little off. And whatever Steve had done to Tony's ego… wasn't good. Robo-cop wasn't even returning my calls.
With a mouthful of pie, Steve shrugged, his face losing a little of that outdoor flush.
"Have you tried talking to Pepper?"
Steve shrugged again.
I was ready to let the topic dry up, when Steve pulled out a letter from his back pocket and slammed it on the counter. It was thick paper, hand-written and pressed in black foil.
Stark Industries had been printed on the header.
My eyes snapped quickly to the mention of Hydra, and blurred out all the unnecessary military gunf.
"A group of classified files have been stolen. An unknown hacker, with seemingly no fingerprint on any program we own, managed to deep-dive into Tony's system and pull an entire century's worth of metadata out with the snap of a finger."
My blood ran cold, and I pressed my lips together, trying to make sense of what spewed out in front of me.
"They're saying Tony did business with some big-money dealers a few years ago. He wanted to end the contract after what went down in Afghanistan, though it was too late. They came to collect."
"My family." I blurted. "I trusted SI with the identity of my family… my friends. God, all of my life is in that system. All of yours, Bruce, Clint… even Clint's kids."
"This is what I said."
"And?"
Steve chewed a mouthful of pie and then swallowed hard. "The conversation got a little more… heated."
"Was it Tony's fault?"
"The board."
I sighed, my knife getting hot without a victim to stab away the blame. I glanced to the pie, to Steve's dirty fork, to the letter that made everything in our downtown apartment look cheap.
I needed answers.
"Nat–" Steve hurried, though my hand was already on the keys. "Nat, where are you going?"
"To speak with Stark Industries."
Tony was sat behind a mirrored table– the wedge of glass thick enough to hold an aquarium, or a mountain of classified files. He had an elbow resting on it, and the other toying with one of seven sharpened pencils– STARK printed at the narrow end.
Pepper wasn't here - no one was.
The little hideaway that Tony had built strangely silent– not a vengeful axe or a deathtreat headed his way. Strange, as paparazzi had greeted me near the gates.
"I told you once, and I'll tell you again - I don't know how they did it."
I splayed my fingers on the arms of the chair I was sitting in, trying not to squeeze the life out of the leather. "You're Tony Stark… you made life support out of old car batteries and red wires. You're telling me you don't know how someone managed to hack the business that's arming the world's defense from space?"
He sighed that Tony sigh, flicking his eyes to the floor and then to the city-wide view behind me.
He knew more than he was letting on… he knew something was coming.
I stood abruptly and narrowed the space between us, slamming my fist on his perfect desk.
It didn't make a dent - though the glass chinked on impact.
"Who did it?"
"Natasha."
"Who did it?"
"Listen here, warrior princess–" Tony stood, "I got ten men arming my front door and a basement full of blood-soaked files downstairs that could have been leaked to the press, hadn't I got there in time. I saved what I could, I've inscripted the rest of the data to keep everything safeguarded, and the moment this bastard releases so much as a phone-pin to the newspapers, I'll have every top-ranged Russian sniper aimed at his ass."
My eyes narrowed, though I didn't move.
So it was a 'he' that did this.
Tony released a long breath and looked helplessly to the floor.
"It was James Barnes." He eventually fessed.
The muscles in my jaw tightened. "Bucky?"
Stark nodded.
"Why would he do this? What did he have to gain?"
The Avengers had dealt with their fair share of Winter Soldier drama back in the day – mainly with Tony in the firing line, and Steve with his tangled heartstrings keeping us all at bay.
We had bigger fish to fry once the drama was squashed, though Bucky had always kept his eye out– that skull crushing arm just enough in reach to cause damage when the time came.
Apparently, that time was now.
"What does he want? He's been off the grid for years…"
"He wants revenge."
"On us?"
"On the people that did this to him."
My brows hitched. "What would Stark Industry have to do with Hydra's experimenting? He killed your parents, does he want to finish off the bloodline now too?"
Tony smiled, too much of a stickler for sour comedy.
I thought I had pushed it too far, as his grin went stale and dry, though something else reached his eyes - a pity, a sadness.
"He wants Melina Vostokoff."
My blood began to boil.
"Why?" I demanded– a simple word for a simple answer.
Tony began to clear his throat and adjust himself back into his seat, looking to flower up the reason I wanted. No.
Not like this.
"Give it to me straight." I simplified.
"Melina was involved in the Winter Soldier project. She, unfortunately, is on his hit list."
I laughed, short and stiff, enough to make an average man sweat.
Tony was no average man.
"And he got Melina's details off the data… of course." I shook my head. "I can't let him kill her. I won't let it happen."
"Nat–"
"No, Tony. I trusted their whereabouts with you and Stark Industries. What if he goes after Yelena? What if this breaks out into a war?"
Tony sighed, absentmindedly scratching the electric plate that bloomed like a ray of sun from his chest. A heart without a pulse– it cast a shadow from beneath his shirt, though I didn't acknowledge how mortal it made him seem.
As much bone, blood and brain as I was.
As Melina was.
No, I couldn't let Bucky get to her. I couldn't let him take the only mother I had known.
I would go to Russia and stop him before he made contact, and hopefully, before Steve got in the way of my gun.