AN: This fic takes place immediately following the events of Civil War, and attempts to fill in some of the two years between CW and IW. Allusions are made to Nat's relationship with Barnes which were canon in the comics, but only ambiguously hinted at in the MCU. Please R&R if you like it.
—
The woman leaned over the balcony. The city below was a patchwork of twinkling lights. The soft murmurs of muted conversations and music carried on the warm breeze. She felt the air change behind her and stood up.
"I was wondering when you'd show up," she said, without turning around. Her red hair fluttered gently in the evening air. She wore a dark cocktail dress that flared out from her waist and hugged her bust.
"You didn't make it easy to find you." He knew it would have been impossible if she didn't want to be found.
She turned and smirked up at him. She held a half-empty glass of champagne in her hand.
"Not exactly slumming it." He glanced back at the old hotel looking out over the city below. It had once been a castle. Technically it still was. Europe had an overabundance of them.
She exhaled. "What do you want, Rogers?"
"A drink? Maybe."
"You don't drink."
"I want to check up on a friend."
She held up her glass and gestured around them. "I've been worse."
There was so much he wanted to say but she wasn't giving him any openings. "And I wanted to say thank you."
She raised an eyebrow. "It's nice to be appreciated."
He chuckled. "I couldn't have done it without you. And Buck…"
"How is he?"
He shrugged. "Time will tell. But the Wakandans will give him a fighting chance."
She nodded slowly. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I trust you." He studied her for a moment, but she gave nothing away. She'd known more about Bucky than anyone, and he wasn't sure how much more she'd kept secret. He wasn't a spy, though, he was a soldier. And playing games of intrigue wasn't his strength.
"I'm not going to rush off to Wakanda, Steve."
"I didn't think you were."
"I'm not going to sell his location, either."
"I wouldn't have told you if I thought you would."
She stared up at him. "You're a bad liar, but you're good at keeping secrets. Why tell that one?"
"You knew him once."
"You mean when he shot me?"
"I'm trying to help him put it back together, Nat. He remembers… enough, but there are still pieces missing."
Her green eyes caught the light for a moment. He couldn't tell if she was amused or annoyed. "If he wants to know, he can ask me himself."
He knew this wasn't going to be easy. He pondered his next words carefully, all too aware that she was watching him with what he was increasingly sure was amusement. He swallowed. "I know you have a history. Together."
She raised an eyebrow.
He tilted his head and took a breath. "You lied to me."
She snorted. "That's how you're playing this?"
"That's how I'm playing it."
She put her glass down and stepped closer to him. He could feel the heat between them. She stared up at him. "I gave you the file."
"You left out your own part."
She shrugged. "I guess we all have secrets to keep when it comes to him."
He shook his head. "I was trying to protect Tony. I was selfish."
"And what am I?"
Infuriating. He sighed. "Every time I think I can trust you…"
"Trust is a two way street. You aren't entitled to know my past just because…" She looked away.
"Because what?"
She took a deep breath. "Did you really come here to interrogate me about Barnes?"
He shook his head. "I could really use that drink."
