A/N: I haven't seen this many reviews since the first chapter I published way back in September! U know they motivate me to become a better writer so keep 'em up :) As for this piece, it's a direct 'continuation' of our disaster-of-a-date with lots of action thrown into the mix.

PS. Have you seen Black Widow in cinemas? 'Cause I did and goddammit Scarlett Johansson is a total badass. And Florence Pugh's portrayal of Yelena Belova was just purely savage. Love them both.

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. All rights to Marvel Cinematic Universe, etc.

Chapter 12

PERFECT ENEMY

"The best revenge is not to be like your enemy." - Marcus Aurelius

1

Two hours before the banquet's official opening, Steve's eyes fluttered open, as if on cue. His service in the army has taught him many things, one of which was to sleep whenever you can and to wake up precisely on schedule, just like today. The soldier glanced at his grandfather's watch and saw it was indeed a bit past six PM. Time to suit up and get to work.

"Uh- Nat? Hey, Nat, wake up!" He shook the spy gently. Natasha was snuggled to his side, curled like a small red-haired cat. She looked unbearably cute without any rough objects in her grasp and no murderous intentions. Steve knew well though, how dangerous she was, despite her sleepy state. He heard her incoherent murmuring which sounded like 'five more minutes' and 'can't we take a day off?'.

"Nat, we really gotta go. I don't think we should keep Sharon waiting."

Natasha opened her eyes and groaned exaggeratedly. "Always the voice of reason, huh?"

"It's kinda my thing. Someone has to keep you in check, right?" Steve smiled as he stood up while the redhead rubbed her eyes and casted him a grumpy look.

"Yeah, maybe."

They began to prepare for the upcoming mission, the feeling of uneasiness intensifying in the air with each passing minute. They both knew something was amidst and that they were virtually walking into the lion's den. They also knew there was no other choice really - for the sake of their fellow agent. As much as Natasha didn't enjoy Carter's presence (most people have already figured the redhead was not overly fond of Sharon smiling sweetly and hitting on Steve), she knew how valuable to S.H.I.E.L.D. the prisoner was. After all, Carter was one of the best amongst their ranks and the spy respected that. Sometimes even a professional needs help.

While all these thoughts went through her head, Steve put the new suit on, which clung to his body tightly yet didn't hamper his moves in any way. It would prove critical in the heat of the battle to have full range of motion and the soldier was almost sure their mission wouldn't end on a peaceful note. The suit had some cleverly positioned pockets which were perfect for tools such as lockpicks, grappling hook and compact first-aid. As Tony mentioned in his letter - it would all be unrecognizable under Steve's tux. Speaking of the soldier's evening outfit; he bought it thanks to Sam Wilson who claimed to have some experience when it came to men's fashion. Still having a bit of a problem with adjusting to modern standards Steve decided to go along with it (even though, according to his friends, he was doing a rather decent job for a ninety-five year old veteran).

Nonetheless the soldier didn't put on his attire just yet. First he had to find a place outside the villa where he would stash his shield which wasn't exactly the most portable thing. Their objective was to sneak inside, take part in the banquet and seize the opportunity to free Sharon and retrieve information if possible. Easier said than done, right?

The soldier was ready to go when he heard Natasha's voice behind him.

"Steve?"

The moment he turned around, his jaw went slack, almost falling to the floor below. Steve's stupefied brain tried - for a longer period of time - to register who was standing in front of him but in the end was unable to.

Only one thought crashed inside his mind: Natasha Romanoff is an angel on Earth.

She was dressed in an anthracite halterneck gown with a thigh-slit going all the way to her left hip. Adorned with dark red ornaments it corresponded with her lipstick ridiculously well, so well in fact, that Steve spent a good few seconds admiring just the contours of her mouth. The soldier wondered if her lips tasted like the Bordeaux she drank the night before...

On top of that, she wore subtle make-up and by God did it highlight her grass-green eyes. They were the reason why the soldier's mind had gone numb once again. Her gorgeous hair, resembling a crown of flames, extended down her shoulders only prolonging his intoxication. No matter how hard he tried he could not utter a meaningful sentence, even when the spy came closer, her high-heels clicking on the floor as the rhythm of his heart became faster and faster.

Natasha's lips turned into a satisfied grin and it was enough for the soldier to completely lose himself. In her.

"Considering the fact you're unable to say anything at the moment maybe you'll help me with this?" She asked, opening the palm of her hand. The spy turned around scooping her red hair over her left shoulder as he put the silver chain around her neck and clasped it with a quiet click. The small pendant shimmered ever so slightly, resembling a tiny, flickering star, alone in the vastness of the night sky of her dress.

"Nat."

"Okay, so you do know how to talk. That's a relief." The spy said with a smile, earning another dazed look. She spun around making the velvet material swirl around her "So... what do you think?".

Steve opened his mouth as if he wanted to answer but it was pointless. Before he could contain himself, he took her hand and pulled her closer. It was in that moment when his mind literally short-circuited and shattered into a million pieces which he doubted he'd be able to piece together anytime soon. Her lips didn't taste like Bordeaux at all, but rather like sweet strawberries with a delicate hint of vanilla. Her overwhelming jasmine scent filled his nostrils, making his heart pound heavier, blood rushing in his ears like an unstoppable flood.

It all lasted maybe a second or two before he realized she wasn't kissing him back and apparently wasn't going to. The soldier was the one to initiate the move and the only one to go with it. She didn't move at all and when they broke apart, Natasha's face was void of any emotions.

"I… I'm sorry. I should have… asked or- I'm sorry, Nat." He stammered, avoiding her eyes. Suddenly he felt cold streams going down his neck and spine which had nothing to do with this time of the year. A big chunk of ice formed in his stomach pulling him to the ground.

Natasha studied his face, her hand wandering across her lips.

"I didn't know-" She began but the soldier interrupted her, an expression of guilt appeared all over his face.

"Now matter how stupidly it sounds, this is the only way I can tell you what I felt… what I feel about you since our first meeting all those years ago. I know this..." He said sternly pointing at his shield, Natasha's guns, the mission. "...is hardly the time and place to admit such things but there has always been something getting in the way, be it another mission, another fight, another disaster the Avengers had to take care of. I'm done holding this inside any longer and I'm sorry for what I've just done but my mind just went blank… I think you've noticed already."

Natasha nodded silently, something lingering in her eyes, which was hard for him to determine.

"I knew I should have done it a long time ago, the date and everything. But I waited. For someone who didn't harm you like I did, yet sees you the way I do now." He walked towards the window, breathing heavily as though he'd just finished a marathon. It was a rather unusual feeling, considering the fact he could run thirteen miles in thirty minutes without getting breathless. At least the cold winter air brought a bit of relief, easing the pain of waiting for the verdict. After a long period of silence he felt Natasha's hand touching his shoulder.

"Steve, I'm not mad at you. I was just-"

"Not ready?"

"No, it's not that. I just didn't expect-"

"I know, I won't do it again, Nat. I-".

"Oh for the love of God!" She groaned in a frustrated voice, spinning him around and pressing her lips firmly against his. In an instant they were both taken lightyears away from their hideout, the mission, everything.

Waves of warmth surged between and through them, from head to toes, paralyzing their bodies with all the words they should have said much earlier but so stupidly hesitated to utter. Though she'd rather jump outside the window than admit it, Natasha was surprised by how good of a kisser Steve turned out to be. Her weak legs and racing heart were more than enough to prove it and she admired every second of it.

When they finally broke apart for air, Steve looked as if he was hit on the head with a really heavy object, unable to comprehend what had just happened. "Now that I think of it, this mission may be a pleasant trip after all." The redhead said, smiling wide at the sight of the dumbfounded soldier.

"Wait, did you just…?"

"Pretty much. Oh, and I'm dying to see you in that tux, Steve." She winked at the soldier, grabbing her coat. "You coming?"

He nodded his head absent-mindedly and followed the spy out of the door.

2

Lila Barton focused her aim on the target, a round shield with a red dot in the middle. She was standing inside a barn where her father organised a small shooting range so that they could practice regardless of the unpleasant weather outside. She had already gone through the basics yet landing precise hits was something she had only begun to work on.

"A little higher, sweetheart. The arrow lowers its flight track, remember? It doesn't matter if the distance's short." Clint Barton said, raising his daughter's grip on the weapon's handle. "Now, try again."

The girl clenched her teeth, her brows furrowed in concentration as she drew back the bowstring. She took a deep breath and then, along with the air escaping from her lungs, she let go of the arrow. It flew gracefully towards the target, penetrating deeply into its wooden centre.

Lila smiled at her father who had a proud look on his face. His daughter was one step closer to becoming a marksman he hoped she'd be one day.

"That's what I'm talking about, honey. Well done." Clint said, hugging the girl.

Lila nodded her head and went to retrieve the arrow. It was at that moment when Barton's phone beeped with the incoming call. It was encrypted and that could mean only one thing. Well, his retirement was about to be interrupted yet again.

"Yes, director?"

3

As much as they didn't enjoy the perspective of their mission, both the spy and the soldier had to admit that sailing through Venice in winter was an unforgettable experience. Old renaissance houses leaned over the water, reflecting in the black mirror-like surface while the streetlamps glowed in the evening mist resembling orbs of fire suspended above the ground. The snow covered the cobblestone streets and forgotten boats docked at both sides of the canal. The sky was clear and pitch-black, decorated with silver glimmering of the stars.

They could enjoy these final moments of peace thanks to Nick Fury who - despite the fact the mission was sudden and unexpected - managed to arrange transport for them, specifically a speedboat they were currently using to reach the villa. Provided everything would go according to their plan, they'd be leaving with Sharon and stolen data on board a few hours later. There was only one small problem: their missions rarely went without a hitch. As far as they were concerned, the world's most ruthless assassin would try to kill them, not to mention the fact that Sharon could have already been disposed of.

Such details were often missed in the job description of secret agencies tasked with international security.

A few canals away from the destination, Steve stopped the speedboat to which Natasha raised her eyebrows, casting him an inquisitive look. The soldier resisted the urge to kiss her again, scolding himself mentally for leaving his sketchbook back in NYC.

He could spend a good couple of hours, sketching her perfect contours in different states of undress. The soldier was glad it was cold outside as a mere thought of this made his cheeks red.

"Whatever happens tonight… I'm gonna need a rain check on our date, Natasha." He said, his voice barely louder than a whisper. "There is no me without you around."

Natasha stood up and hugged him tightly. Her warm arms found their way under his winter coat. "As long as you promise me the same thing, Steve. I am not letting you go, just so you know."

The soldier couldn't help but flash a dorky smile. And that was enough of an answer for her.

"Well then, how about we drop by and say hello to other guests?" He found himself whispering. Then they turned right and saw their destination, looming out of the evening mist.

Villa Borghese was, without a doubt, one of the most beautiful places in Venice you could visit. Five-stories high, covered with intricate marble ornaments and statues, its white walls illuminated by colourful lights - it was a sight to behold. It overlooked one of many branches of Canal Grande, hosting a small fleet of boats. On top of that the building was encircled by a winter garden full of holly bushes, their red berries coated with rime.

The soldier purposefully docked closer to the back exit, in case they'd need to evacuate fast (which they were sure would happen by the end of the night). Their weapons were stashed there as well, hidden under black tarp. Steve's shield was painted black and grey so that the classic Captain America's colours wouldn't catch someone's prying eyes, while Natasha's guns were already locked and loaded and her widow bites charged.

Even though they've taken every precaution they could, Steve was worried sick - and had a good reason to. He was casting anxious glances at the redhead knowing full well what would happen if Natasha encountered the rogue widow. After all, there was a fair chance that HYDRA's most ruthless assassin would attempt to murder them both during the banquet, depriving S.H.I.E.L.D. of two invaluable agents as a consequence.

Fucking occupational hazard.

The spy glanced at Steve in his blue-black tux, making a mental note to thank Sam Wilson for his choice of attire because the soldier standing next to her was dressed to kill. Natasha found it difficult not to strip Steve with her eyes, not to mention the fact she had to resist an unbelievable urge to kiss him until they were both out of breath. Who could've guessed that an old-fashioned 95-year-old guy would've such an effect on her?

She snapped from her slightly inappropriate thoughts upon hearing Steve's voice.

"Look at those guys. I really don't like this." He murmured under his breath as one of the guards, black suit and orange tie, motioned them towards the gates. Natasha took the chance to look around discreetly. The security was tight, swarming the entrance to the villa and patrolling the perimeter around it. This would complicate things.

"Relax. We've had it worse." Natasha squeezed his arm lightly.

"That's reassuring."

"Steve-" She was going to say something more, but then the guard interrupted her.

"Signora?"

Without hesitation she crossed the gate, which beeped loudly, displaying a green 'CLEAR' sign over her head. Computer sitting on a desk nearby showed that Natasha Romanoff or rather Victoria Reece, as was her fake identity now, carried no metal items apart from her jewellery.

The next person in queue was Steve who had all sorts of tools on him, including the redhead's knives and taser disks, however, he was in possession of something the enemy couldn't have expected: Tony's suit. If all went well then it'd be able to fool the metal detector, enabling the soldier to come inside with a rather big advantage on their side.

Despite his strong belief that Stark's design wouldn't fail, Steve held his breath in anticipation of an alarm going off. None came though and the machine didn't find anything suspicious. So far, so good.

The soldier offered his arm to Natasha and they both walked inside the entry hall of the villa. Its interior resembled a renaissance palace which meant shiny granite floors, crystal chandeliers and early XV-century frescoes covering the walls along with the ceiling. Had they not been sent on a mission they would have enjoyed their stay in Venice much more.

To their right there were large doors flanked by two guards and an older-looking Italian who was checking the invitations to the banquet.

"Good evening. How can I help you, Signor e Signora…?" He asked as they approached him.

"Reece. My name is Victoria Reece and this is my partner, Daniel Creed." Natasha answered fluently in italian, handing their fake invitations over to the valet. Contrary to Steve who spoke a rather rusty version of the language, Natasha mastered the Italian perfectly along with French, Spanish, German and Chinese.

"Ah, yes, I have your names right here. Excellent! Please make yourself comfortable, the banquet should start any minute." The valet said letting them through the door into a giant hall lit with soft light and filled with numerous paintings of different shapes and sizes. The artworks were covered by black veils for now so the duo took the opportunity to stroll around assessing the exits and the layout of the room. Then the lights were dimmed and a middle-aged man in a well-tailored suit went onto the stage.

"It's show time." Natasha said, earning a chuckle from Steve. He put his hand on the small of her back, relishing the warmth of the redhead's body. She turned around and winked at him in response, making him breathless for a good moment or two.

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please. My name is Alessandro Lorenzo Borghese and I am honoured to welcome all of you to the Annual Art Exhibition when we admire the finest paintings of the Renaissance masters! Those who have attended such events before are well aware of the fact how important this occasion is to me and my family, whose history dates seven centuries back. A cultural experience of this kind is something I couldn't live without! As for the new faces I hope you will find nothing but joy this evening. Let the ceremony begin!"

Borghese's speech was rewarded with loud applause after which people scattered around heading for numerous works of art displayed on the walls. A few paintings caught Steve's eye, he was actually surprised to find so many excellent examples of the Renaissance era untouched. He knew though he had to remain focused if they were to locate their main target: Sharon Carter.

The rest of the intel given by Fury, suggested she was most probably kept in the dungeons below the east wing, on the other side of the hall they were currently at. It wouldn't be easy just to sneak out, given the whole place was crawling with security. Not to mention the fact Sharon might as well have been transferred to a random HYDRA base where they would never find her. The soldier tried not to think about the possibility of her death.

"How will we get to the other wing?" Steve whispered to the spy, as they both pretended to be involved in a painting of still nature in front of them. Natasha had already spotted a couple of strangely acting guests which, most likely, were enemy operatives. They had to be extremely careful. "Do you-"

He was interrupted by Alessandro Borghese who was now side by side with a tall blonde man with green eyes and a goatee. The majority of people wouldn't pay too much attention to the latter, however, both the spy and the soldier recognized the man instantly thanks to the photos they found in their mission folder.

"... Signor Aristow has been a life-long friend of the family and honoured us with his presence for consecutive fifteen years of annual exhibitions. This is why I decided to present him with a token of my gratitude for his insight and patronage…"

Maksim Aristow. A Russian collector of expensive art and HYDRA undercover informant. According to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s intel he should receive the sensitive information at midnight, not two hours before. This unexpected change of plans wasn't a good sign.

"I think I've got an idea." Steve heard Natasha whispering. "I just need a few of my taser disks."

The soldier nodded his head as the redhead's arm snaked around his waist. He felt a shiver going up his spine and for the hundredth time that evening had to contain himself from kissing her senselessly.

"Alright, here's what we're going to do…"

4

Below the eastern wing of Villa Borghese, in a well-guarded cell, a lonely prisoner was kept. Stripped of all clothes, hung upside down, Sharon Carter remained in a dark place both literally and figuratively.

The last twenty four hours were a combination of pain and prayers for a quick end. She had already accepted her fate and was ready to go, so when she heard someone opening the metal door of her confinement she was almost sure she was dreaming.

The prisoner couldn't have seen how Natasha Romanoff disposed of the men patrolling the corridor. When the redhead located the path leading to Carter's cell it was just a matter of a minute or two before the security had been breached. The first guard was stabbed right in the solar plexus while the second one knocked out cold against the wall.

The spy then avoided two gunshots and tackled the third thug who ended up with a crushed throat and broken leg. Finally the two remaining guards were electrocuted with the help of Natasha's taser discs. Ten thousand volts would put anyone down without major problems and there were no exceptions here.

The redhead fiddled with the keys for a few moments before the lock clicked and heavy steel doors moved out of the way. She stormed inside, almost immediately spotting Sharon's body suspended high in the air. The spy lowered and carefully untied her fellow agent, making sure she didn't hit herself in the head.

Some distorted words escaped Sharon's lips before she blacked out again.

Natasha had to admit it was a horrible sight, up close. The blonde's skin was pale, cold, she was extremely underweight and horrifically bruised. It was obvious she's been beaten more than once. Sharon's face was covered by a layer of curdled blood, one of her eyes swollen to a point she was practically half-blind.

Even though Natasha wasn't overly fond of agent Carter, she felt rage surging through her veins. She knew why Sharon was in such a state. The blonde was HYDRA's bargaining chip and that was the reason they kept her alive for so long. Apparently it didn't mean she had to be in good condition.

The same thing would probably happen to Natasha herself, just so the HYDRA could bait Steve into coming to her rescue. Brutal and simple.

Natasha looked around for something to cover Sharon with, finally opting for one of the guard's jackets. She then lifted her limp body which wasn't overly difficult considering Carter's malnourished state. The spy flipped the body over her shoulder and left the cell, a loaded glock in her other hand. Now she had to find her way to the back exit which shouldn't be much of a problem with all the chaos she caused with her small sabotage.

There was something else that the redhead was worried about though; where was Wasilewska? Fury's intel may have been incomplete due to the lack of time, but the director and agent Coulson were almost sure the rogue widow would show up at some point. Frankly, the redhead expected Wasilewska to be lurking around Sharon's cell. And if she wasn't here…

The spy quickened her pace, having a nasty feeling she was right.

5

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve spotted a fast-moving shadow. His muscles tensed in anticipation of action but he was too slow. The next second someone twisted his wrist in one smooth move, shoving him against the wall with a loud thud. The soldier felt the air escaping from his lungs and his heart accelerating.

He then heard a voice which caused goosebumps to form on his skin. "Now, we can do it the easy way or the hard way, Rogers. The choice is yours."

"What- Who are you?" Steve managed to gasp out. His oppressor was either very strong or knew how to restrain targets because the Captain couldn't move an inch without feeling an intense pain in his right arm.

"Let's just say Natalia and I are good acquaintances. Where is she hiding?"

Wasilewska.

"How should I know?"

"Don't be more stupid then you already are, Rogers." A quiet metallic ping alerted Steve that the voice's owner unsheathed a weapon, most probably a knife with a really nasty kind of blade. "Try to resist, she dies slowly and painfully. Tell me where she is and I'll make her death quick."

Steve gritted his teeth, desperately trying to figure out what to do. After a few longer moments, he uttered no word, seeing no alternative to the situation. To say his silence wasn't met with enthusiasm would be an understatement.

"Wrong answer." The slight shift in the tone made his skin crawl. "I always preferred the hard way."

Then a blade sunk into Steve's shoulder up until the crossguard. The pain was unbearable and the blood splattered onto the wall. It wasn't the end though, as the soldier felt the weapon being forcefully twisted inside the wound, causing him to scream. Serum circulating in his blood did many things right but nothing is without a flaw; heightened senses meant higher sensitivity to stimuli. Pain included.

The soldier found himself panting like a chased animal yet he still said nothing. He felt disoriented and surprised that the suit didn't stop the blade the way he expected it to. The explanation followed rather quickly.

"You're a smart one, Captain, much like Clint. But your fancy suit doesn't stand a chance against adamantium. And you don't have your shield around which makes it that more easy." The oppressor's voice was as cold as the ice Steve was thawed out of. "Funny. I thought I wouldn't be forced to do what I've done to him."

Sudden realization hit Steve with a force of tsunami. Even though more pain was to come, he didn't care; he knew he was the last line of defence before Wasilewska would get to Natasha. The soldier couldn't let that happen. He couldn't let the last light in his life be extinguished by some brain-washed fanatic who believed in twisted ideals and ludicrous visions of future 'order'.

He twitched slightly, ignoring the searing sensation radiating from his arm. Steve could almost see the surprise on Wasilewska's face when he gathered all the strength inside him and thrusted them both away from the wall. His enemy plummeted onto the floor and the soldier, with all of his one-hundred kilos of battle weight, landed on the rogue widow causing her to growl in pain. He then backed away feeling his right arm becoming paralyzed by the overwhelming numbness instead of a sharp pain he felt mere moments ago.

Steve realized the blade must have been poisoned. He didn't know if the serum would get the toxin out of his system but he prayed to God so that he'd be able fend off the assassin who was now literally howling with rage. He could not let that animal get to Natasha.

"I'm gonna make sure she stays awake long enough to feel every single cut. Her death will be beyond excruciating and you Rogers, will not stand in my way." The assassin hissed almost spitting the venom onto the shiny floor. Steve didn't have time to answer as he ducked, just in time to catch the reflex on the steel surface of the knife aimed at his head. The blade wedged into the wall behind him and Wasilewska was already on the move.

She lunged forward intending to cut his upper and lower torso at the same time but Steve managed to dodge them both as well.

"What have they done to you?" Steve found himself asking before he realized how pointless it was to bargain with this kind of foe. As predicted Wasilewska said nothing, instead attacking him with her widow bites. They weren't the compact version Natasha usually wore around her wrists but rather half-a-metre long electrified batons buzzing like a hive of angry wasps. Successful hit on the head would most likely knock the soldier out for hours which would mean his death, then the death of Natasha.

Steve did all he could to avoid the blows, but wasn't always fast enough. Unpleasant cold radiated from his left hip where Wasilewska hit him, slowly debilitating his limb. Thanks to the suit the bone withstood the impact but he still had to modify his fighting style, opting for a less acrobatic approach.

"You're running out of time." She said, encircling him, so that he was facing her with his injured arm. The knife still remained inside the wound but Steve knew he couldn't pull it out, otherwise he'd bleed to death.

She had calculated everything perfectly. At that moment the soldier was slightly dazed, both of his left limbs almost deprived of sensation. He had to finish the fight quickly as one way or another it wasn't going to last much longer.

"And why's that?" He asked weighing his options.

"I told our mutual friend earlier, there is a surprise waiting for you. And I wasn't wrong." Wasilewska said when Maksim Aristow walked into the room.

His suit was creased as if someone wanted to stop him but there was an unmistakable look of triumph on the Russian's face. One of his hands held a silver suitcase while the other one clutched a device resembling a remote. It wasn't overly difficult to figure out what Aristow was going to do.

"Irina? I thought you've already taken care of our guest. Why is he still here?"

Wasilewska's face contorted into anger. "I was just about to finish this fucker off. It's a matter of time."

"Well, we're running out of time, darling." Aristow said, checking his watch. "In a moment there will be quite a mess here so if you don't want to be scrubbed off the floor I suggest you leave."

Steve darted desperate looks towards the exits, his mind exploding with a thousand questions. Is Natasha safe? Did she get Sharon out? And most importantly, where is she?

"Not without Romanoff. She's mine."

"I don't care for your petty revenge, Irina. Do what you have to do and get the fuck out of here. You have ten seconds." Aristow huffed with anger and walked out of the room.

Wasilewska returned her gaze to Steve, watching him the way a predator does before it devours its prey. She smiled nastily, licking her pointed teeth much like a rabid dog. "Ten seconds is all I need."

Then a few things happened in a rapid succession. First, the soldier heard someone's quiet footsteps when Natasha ran into the room. Her dress was torn and damaged but the soldier didn't see any major injuries. Both pairs of eyes turned towards the spy who unsheathed her combat knives, standing between Steve and the assassin.

"Hello, Natalia."

"You…"

Fortunately all the training and battles the soldier's had gone through in the past caused his body to react a few precious seconds before everything had gone FUBAR. As the assassin lunged towards them, Natasha moved out of the way gracefully, cutting Wasilewska's arm deeply. Steve immediately turned around, gripping one of the dining tables and hurling it at the tall window facing the canal. Expensive china and cutlery crashed onto the floor, sounds of broken glass and clanking of metal filling the air moments before the detonation.

"Nat…?!" Was the only word his mouth articulated before he grabbed Natasha, bridal style, and leapt over the balcony. Straight into the water of the venetian canal.

The sound of explosion caught them mid-air but was instantly muffled when they sank below the surface. A myriad of tiny bubbles swirled around them as they descended into the freezing darkness, surrounded by seaweed and wooden piles to which the gondolas were docked.

Steve tried not to think what could've happened had they fell on one of these. The end would be stupid and painful. But he didn't, he grabbed the redhead just in time to avoid the hell unleashed at the villa.

Speaking of the devil: he wasn't holding Natasha's hand anymore and the water was overwhelmingly cold. Where was she? Why wasn't she swimming up? It was so murky that he couldn't see a thing, but he remembered they jumped into the canal pretty close to the embankment so the spy should be able to resurface without major problems. He was wrong.

"NAT!" His mind screamed as he took a deep breath and dived deeper into the water. The next thirty seconds were probably one of the darkest in his life, knowing full well how horrible and pointless the death could be if Natasha just drowned there. All because he could not hold her tightly enough.

Steve frantically searched until he came across something which resembled seaweed but in fact was Natasha's hair. The soldier quickly pulled her out of the water, not paying attention to the world around. As much as he hated himself for that he didn't care about the screaming of other people in the background when the villa was completely engulfed in flames.

He checked Natasha's breath and her pulse which was very weak and unsteady. The soldier started to perform CPR for the next minute until the spy finally opened her eyes and mouth. She spat water onto the cold stone, her breath frantic and laboured but thankfully restored.

Natasha refocused her gaze on the soaked soldier in a tux torn so much it looked like floor cloth. He was panting heavily and had a terrified expression on his face.

"You… you okay?" Was all he managed to gasp out.

Natasha felt like her voice box was jammed but eventually she let out a husky whisper. "Yes, but-"

She pushed Steve away as they both heard a not-so-distant gunshot and a fountain of stone shreds erupted in a place Steve crouched just a moment ago. The soldier spotted a red dot moving across the cobblestone.

Sniper.

They both ducked behind a cover as they heard more shots and an unmistakable voice hollering with pure rage. "I'LL GET YOU, BOTH, I PROMISE YOU THAT!"

The soldier glanced at Natasha with worry, already preparing to restrain her. "Natasha, I know what you want to do. But I will have to stop you."

"You don't understand. This is..."

"I do very well. That's why I'm not letting you go. Not now, not on your own." Steve said, firmly holding the redhead's right hand. She was barely standing on her feet and dripping with water. The spy was in no condition to fight Wasilewska.

"Steve-"

"No. We need to evacuate, fast. Sharon needs our help." The soldier interrupted her yet again, pointing at the unconscious body covered in blankets onboard their speedboat.

The spy was struggling internally for a while before she closed her eyes and exhaled deeply. She knew Steve was right and it'd be foolish to get yourself killed because of her desire for revenge. Some other day, maybe.

"Fine. But how are we gonna get to the boat? And why didn't she shoot Sharon already?" Natasha asked, peeking carefully from behind their cover only to dodge another bullet at the last moment.

"Sharon's the bait and Wasilewska wants you alive. But I got the idea." Steve muttered, preparing to run for it. "The suit didn't stop the blade but Tony specifically said it could withstand being shot."

"You're crazy."

"Possibly."

She wanted to stop him but it was too late. "Steve...!"

Time seemed to drag when he sprinted those ten metres towards their boat yet it was enough for him to get shot twice. The first bullet hit him in the back while the second one in his already weakened leg. The soldier crashed onto the ground, feeling as if a battering ram just smashed into him but the suit didn't fail him this time.

He got up and grasped his shield, securing the vibranium disk tightly around his left arm so that he could operate the boat with the other one. Steve revved the engine and the vehicle began to move all the while he deflected the bullets meant for him, the unconscious Sharon or the boat itself. Natasha joined him shortly after and soon they both disappeared in the mist swirling above the venetian canals.

Somewhere behind them, Irina Wasilewska reloaded her rifle furiously, cursing her injured arm. They got away this time but they wouldn't in the future. She'd make sure of it.

6

"We need evac ASAP. Carter and Steve are injured. I repeat we need evac now." The spy almost yelled into the communication device.

Fury said he'd send someone to extract them as he too suspected their mission would end with a bang but there was no-one in sight. Or so she thought because after a short silence, she heard a familiar voice, immediately followed by the humming of the qunijet's engines.

"Hi there, Princess. Need a lift?" Clint Barton asked, halting the aircraft in front of their boat.

"Barton, you son of a bitch." Steve muttered under his breath, making Natasha's lips quirk into a half smile despite her exhaustion.

"I'll lower the ramp for you. Can Sharon walk?"

Natasha checked her pulse. "Not quite. She's out cold and needs help, fast."

"Then, I guess it's a good thing I decided to drop by." Another voice chimed in and Natasha was relieved it belonged to Bruce Banner. "What about you, two?"

"I'm okay but Steve's injured." The redhead said, looking at him anxiously. Wasilewska's blade still remained inside the soldier's shoulder yet he didn't wince once since their reunion.

Soon all four of them were inside the quinjet's hold, safe and sound. Bruce checked Sharon's vital signs first, hooking her up to multiple IVs including electrolytes, nutrients and antibiotics. He put an oxygen mask on her face and made sure every inch of her body was covered by a blanket.

"If you guys didn't get her out…" Bruce shook his head. "She's lost a lot of weight and almost went into cardiac shock. Clint, how long until NYC?"

"Seven, maybe six hours." Barton responded, looking at the navigation computer. "I'll do what I can."

"Well, I've done what I could. Let's just hope there won't be too much air traffic." Banner said, putting a bandage over a bruise on Natasha's arm. "You got there just in time guys, as always."

Natasha nodded, her attention shifting back to Steve. "What about his shoulder? Steve says the knife could've been poisoned. I know Erskine's serum does wonders but maybe you should have a look at it, Bruce?"

"Of course."

"I'll be fine." The soldier muttered sternly but in that moment his body finally reached its limits and gave out. Steve felt the ground escaping from below his feet as he fell into oblivion.

And then there was nothing.

A/N: A bit of angst as always but hey, they finally did it! I thought it'd come out much earlier but the story seems to be writing itself... I can assure you they will not stop though. R&R and I'll see y'all soon. / WS