Author's Note: Marvel owns what it owns, and I own what I own, let's keep it that way shall we? Don't Sue me!

Recommended Listening: Pretty Woman by Roy Orbison, Ain't Nobody's Business if I Do by Billie Holliday, Alone Together by Ray Anthony, Leaving on a Jet Plane by John Denver


Ch 24: A Calm Before the Storm

It had been almost a month since Becca had passed away. While Maggie wasn't sure about everyone else, but for her, everything was going at a strange fast-slow pace. Things were happening at an accelerated rate, while nothing was happening at all. Steve hadn't attended Becca's funeral. He'd argued his presence would've turned the entire thing into a media circus, which felt wholly and utterly unfair to both him and the family. Maggie, for her part, had decided to let the family grieve and mourn together without her interference. She'd only known Becca a few months. It didn't seem right to infringe on the family's period of grieving.

She and Steve hadn't spoken.

Mostly, they'd been busy, and it hadn't been exactly conducive to them talking out their feelings, and working through what had transpired. Maggie's anger had melted away into grief, and now, over a month later, a feeling a numb. Maggie hadn't left the tower. Unfortunately, they'd had to delay their trip to Argentina. It had been for the best, as it had given Maggie a chance to prepare better, plot out their route, where they were going to stay, and brush up on her Spanish.

The delay had also allowed her and Romanoff additional time to work through the more technical and complicated bits of Russian translation. They had started getting into medical documents, which came with ethical questions all of their own. At what point did the search for the Winter Soldier become too personal? When did she know much? And what was she supposed to do with the information she found. Those were questions to be answered another day, for now, she just put everything in her journals, before filing or destroying the documents depending.

While she and Steve hadn't spoken, she hadn't seen much of Sam either. Sam had been flying all over the world chasing down and following up on leads that didn't involve hiking into remote jungles, while Steve, Nat, and the rest of the Avengers had been kicking down Hydra's front door and busting up cells all over the world. They had allegedly "beaten" Hydra, mopping up the last of their bases in Sokovia, and now Stark was throwing a party in celebration. It was a rare moment for the Avengers and afflicted gang to all be together before she and Sam would pack up and head for the airport for their flight to Argentina.

For her part, Maggie didn't feel much like celebrating. It didn't exactly feel like Hydra had been "beaten" when she still wasn't able to go home, and the thought of getting dressed up and paraded around one of Stark's goddamn parties didn't fill her with the warm fuzzies.

So Maggie had parked herself on the couch, the TV on, trying to decide if she wanted to get ready for their flight now or if she wanted to take a nap. She was pulled from her in-depth internal debate on the pros and cons of both options by a knock at the door.

"Huh." She sighed, sitting up on her elbows, raising herself up just high enough to see over the back of the couch. There were only so many people who'd be at her door at this time of night, while there was a Stark party happening, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to deal with any of them.

There was another, louder, knock, and a pause before Romanoff's voice rang through the door, "Ramirez, are you going to let me in, or am I going to have to force the lock?"

"No need for that, Romanoff. It's unlocked." She called.

"How many times have I told you not to keep your door unlocked." Romanoff sighed as she emerged through the front door, accompanied by the click of high heels.

"I'm still waiting for that Hydra assassin to come and snatch me up in my sleep if I'm being honest," Maggie shrugged, watching her approach. Romanoff had just come from the party or was getting ready to go up, and was wearing a beautiful a-line black dress with a contrasting white collar and sleeves and carrying a garment bag and a pair of heels.

"All packed up for Argentina?" She asked.

"More or less."

"Good. Put these on." Romanoff tossed first the garment bag and then the heels on top of her recumbent form.

"Hey. Hey. You could put an eye out with those things." Maggie protested, scrabbling up into a sitting position, her hands up defensively to protect her face.

"I've done more with less. Come on, get changed, or haven't you heard there's a party going on."

"I heard. And I thought I told Sam that I wasn't going."

"I heard you tell Sam and Steve at the briefing that you'd think about it. And I know you're just doing this to avoid talking to Steve in a casual setting."

"I have a long few days ahead of me. Excuse me for not wanting to be out among the masses."

"When was the last time you saw another living person outside of our immediate cell of operatives."

"I ran into Dr. Banner the other day while I was up in the main kitchen, making tea," Maggie replied quickly. "And I saw Barton this morning down in the shooting gallery."

Romanoff raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, pulling her phone from an inner pocket of her dress.

"What are you doing?" Maggie asked suspiciously.

"Texting Sam," Romanoff replied.

Maggie snorted, pushing the hair out of her from her face. "He's not the boss of me."

"No. Just letting him know that since you've failed to listen to reason, we might have to haul you bodily out of the apartment."

"What? Is Steve your enforcer now? Let me know how that goes for you."

"Our thought was Thor wouldn't have any qualms about hauling you over his shoulder to engage in the merriment." She paused, her thumb hovering over the send key.

Maggie sat perfectly still, trying to read Romanoff's expression, every flicker, every twitch, and there was nothing, nada, zilch, zero. Was she bluffing? How could she tell? Did Maggie really wanna risk that? "Okay, okay, fine!" Maggie rushed at the slightest inclination of a twitch of Romanoff's thumb.

A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth, and she slipped the phone back into the concealed pocket. "Everything should fit," She commented as Maggie unzipped the hanging bag.

"Not sure if I should be flattered or horrified. Does the hanging bag double as a body bag?" Maggie commented, wryly.

"In my experience, every bag can be a bodybag if you try hard enough."

Maggie stopped and looked up, again searching for some clue. "I'd ask if you're kidding, but I really don't want to know." She shook her head, turning her attention to her outfit for the evening.

She had picked out a silky blue jumpsuit, a v-neck with a conservative back allowing for a bra to be worn, but could also be considered revealing without actually exposing. The shoes were a pair of sensible black t-strap heels. "I also have accessories."

"Cool." Maggie managed. She wasn't getting out of this. Sam and apparently Romanoff were both in a mood, and so at the risk of being hauled bodily from the apartment by any number of superheroes, she'd deal. "Well. If we're going to "Pretty Woman" this, we should get going." She sighed, resigned to her fate, rose to her feet, and started back toward the bedroom, hanging bag and shoes in hand.

"You looking forward to Argentina?" she asked, following behind.

"Cautiously optimistic, but simultaneously very very wary about the whole thing. I don't think hiking through the jungle looking for a former Hydra Nazi science research lab is exactly going to be a bundle of laughs, but it'll be a nice change of scenery."

"That's a good place to be with anything like this," Natasha answered, graciously turning around as Maggie stripped off her baggy t-shirt and sweat pants.

Fortunately, she'd just showered and washed her hair, and the outfit didn't require special undergarments. Slipping on the jumpsuit, Maggie found it fit perfectly, fitting just above her ankles, which worked out since she hadn't shaved anything above her ankles in months. Likewise, the mini sleeves meant her underarms weren't exposed, sparing everyone from her unshaved pits. "Okay. I'm dressed you can turn around."

"Cute," Natasha said. "Accessories are in the hanging bag.

"Thanks," Maggie said flatly, retrieving the hanging bag and fishing through the zipper pockets

"I can help you with your hair and makeup too."

Maggie stopped and looked over at Natasha. Opening and closing her mouth, Maggie sighed before continuing. "You're being awfully nice."

"You still sound surprised."

"Do I? I mean. I suppose I'm wondering what the catch is."

"Since I'm dragging you out of your fortress of solitude to socialize with people you may or may not get along with. I figured I'd make this as painless as possible."

"I'm more of a pull the bandaid off quick type of gal,' and anyway, you don't have to buy my friendship."

"Okay. That makes sense." Romanoff nodded.

Maggie starred. Had she just hurt Natasha Romanoff's feelings? Romanoff had been nothing but nice and now? Maggie was being an asshole, pushing her away, just like she pushed everyone else. "It's not that I don't appreciate it." She rushed, "I just don't want you to feel obligated."

Romanoff nodded again before she spoke, "I don't have many friends who are women. In my previous line of work...well, it didn't work out well for anyone who was. Now- now that I'm free of that, I enjoy being able to share things with my women colleagues and friends that I can't with my teammates or the men in my life." She cracked a small, almost fragile smile. "It's not an obligation to be your friend."

There was tremendous sadness and exhaustion to Romanoff's words, and Maggie wanted to reach out, and touch Natasha on the shoulder, find a way to comfort the other woman. Instead, she just returned the smile and extended the necklace, and lipstick toward her, "I'm going to need help with the clasp on the necklace, and I haven't applied lipstick myself in literal years. I'd be tremendously thankful for your help."

"I can do that, and help you with your hair. You're not leaving it like that." Natasha replied.

"I appreciate it."

"Now, let's get you set up in front of the mirror."

Maggie obliged wordlessly, watching as Natasha first clasped the necklace before removing the hair tie holding the messy bun Maggie had put her hair in. She worked the long dark curls into a single french braid before adding in ornamental bobby-pins that Sam had bought her for Christmas.

For her part, Maggie hadn't done her hair up in a while. She could do her hair up, it was just a pain in the ass, and often not worth the time and effort. So watching her hair transform under Natasha's deft hands felt magical. Quickly and proficiently braiding her hair, Natasha then moved to makeup, finishing with the lipstick before backing away so Maggie could see her reflection.

"Well, there's absolutely no way I can get out of going, now." She commented, glancing up at Natasha with a smirk.

"Come on. It won't be so bad." Natasha said, offering Maggie her arm.

Maggie took it, also collecting her keys and cards, slipping them into the deep pockets of her jumpsuit, as they walked from the apartment and to the elevator.

The party was in full swing when they stepped off the elevator, and Maggie could feel her heart race. She hadn't been near this many people all at once in a very very long time, and her eyes scanned the large room and plotted out the best escape route. Fortunately, Stark had expressly prohibited pop-top beverages, and everyone was drinking out of bottles, but she tensed at the sound of a popping champagne cork. "Hey, you're alright." Nat murmured gently into her ear.

Maggie nodded mutely, allowing Natasha to guide her over to the bar where Sam was waiting with a glass and a shot glass. "Gin and Tonic, and a double shot of Cuervo with a lime." Sam commented, sliding the G n' T over to Natasha and the Cuervo with a lime wedge toward Maggie as she climbed up on the barstool.

"You know me so well." She drawled, before licking her hand and pouring salt on the moist patch of skin.

"Thanks for the drink, Sam," Nat said, grabbing the glass off the counter. "I'll be back in a few, have some people I need to chat with." She turned to Maggie, "You look gorgeous, by the way. That color blue with that color red suits you."

"Th-Thanks." Maggie stammered as Romanoff walked away.

Sam was starring, glancing between the retreating form of Romanoff and her in disbelief. "What is going on between you two?"

"You know, we sit around and paint one another's nails, gossip, have pillow fights in our lingerie. The usual girl stuff." Maggie replied sarcastically before throwing back the shot of Cuervo and sucking on the line. Amazingly the lipstick remained intact.

"Not what I meant," Sam said.

"Oh, are you asking if I've found a superhero squeeze of my own?" Maggie raised an eyebrow.

"No." Sam shook his head, "And actually, now that you've said that, I really don't want to know."

Maggie snorted, shaking her head. "You're funny, Sam." She paused, trying to formulate the next sentence carefully. "We're friends. She's looking out for me. It's nice. I don't know what I have to offer in a friendship or any kind of relationship at the moment. Though I will admit, it is nice to have her around." Maggie concluded, glancing over at Sam.

She wasn't about to tell him they'd been decoding top secret Hydra Files, or that Romanoff was teaching her to fight and drive and shoot. She wasn't going to tell Sam any of that, not right now at the very least. It was hypocritical, she realized, to withhold information from Sam, particularly after the fuss she'd made with Steve. However, Maggie reasoned that this had nothing to do with Sam, and so, therefore, it wasn't the same thing at all.

Sam nodded, skeptically, but took a sip of his drink.

"Oh. I like this song." She commented. She didn't actually recognize the song, but it was enough of a comment to steer the conversation away from her and into safer territory.

"Let's dance," Sam said, throwing back the rest of his drink, stepped down from the barstool, and extended his hand to her.

"You hate dancing. And you're terrible at it."

"But you don't, and I know you'll keep me from stepping on your toes," Sam said. "Come on. For old time's sake if nothing else."

Maggie rolled her eyes but nodded in acquiescence as she hopped down from the barstool and took Sam's hand, watching the faces that passed. She had been here almost a year and recognized virtually no one. Sure, she'd run into some people in the hallways, but otherwise, her apartment was a self-contained fortress of solitude where she reigned as the one true supreme monarch.

"What are you thinking about?" Sam asked as they started dancing. The song was slow, and so they moved with ease around the dance floor.

"Oh. My fortress of solitude." She answered, honestly.

"Sounds like fun. What are you thinking of buying some property in Antarctica? I'm sure Stark could help you out there."

"Well, we are going to be in Argentina. It wouldn't be too far of a jaunt if we wanted to make a runner to scout out prime "freeze my ass off" real estate."

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, I never could figure out why Superman decided to set up shop in the frozen middle of nowhere."

"I couldn't either, but I figure it's because we're two dumbass kids from the south," She smiled. It was nice to hear Sam chuckle. Two dumbass kids from the south, she couldn't help but chuckle at that as well. She'd lived most of her life in Texas, up until the time she met and fell in love with Riley. Sam had been born and partially raised in New Orleans before his family had moved to Virginia. Yet they'd both been willing to move to the cold middle of nowhere upstate New York for Riley.

"So what do you think? Fortress of solitude somewhere warm? We thinkin' the Bahamas?" Sam asked, pulling her from her thoughts

"Somewhere warm, but not on the coast. Too many tourists."

"So what? Africa? Asia?"

"I've never been to either, so I wouldn't mind the opportunity if given a chance." She said.

"It sounds nice."

"It does," Maggie agreed.

"I'm glad you came. It's nice to see you out of the apartment, amongst people." Sam commented after a moment. "And you do look amazing, by the way. Romanoff does know how to pick out clothes."

"She certainly has an eye for details," Maggie said distantly, as she scanned the dance floor.

They passed the rest of the song in silence, both of them in a time and place far away. It had been forever since she'd danced, and Sam, while boasting two left feet, was an outstanding leader and did his best not to step on toes, which he managed with about 80% success.

"Come on." Sam said as the song ended, "let's get you back to the bar."

And then, Maggie's stomach dropped. Romanoff's disappearance as soon as she'd made it to the party, and Sam's distraction of dancing despite the well-known fact that he hated dancing. "Why do I feel like this is a setup?" Maggie asked, glancing up at him as he walked her back toward the bar, with a gentle but firm hand.

Sam didn't have a chance to answer as the bar came into view, and there standing at the counter was Steve and Natasha, chatting amiably. "Because it is a setup." She practically moaned.

"You two are going to have to kiss and make up sooner or later. Besides, it's a party." Sam said.

"We're not fighting. This isn't a fight. We're keeping our work relationship professional. And I have no idea what you mean by 'beside it's a party,' Samuel Wilson," She hissed.

"Ramirez." Steve nodded politely, his expression going grave at their approach.

"Hey Steve," She sighed, glancing up at him as she slid onto a barstool beside him.

"Can I get you something to drink?" He asked uncertainly.

Maggie glanced at Romanoff and Sam sourly as they moved further down the bar, just out of earshot, but not entirely out of range. "Do they really think we're going to fight each other here?" She asked blandly.

"Well. I don't think we've inspired much confidence recently for them to leave us alone entirely."

"I think that's fair." She paused. "In that case, I'll have a rum and coke with a slice of lime."

Steve ordered, and they sat in silence a moment while Maggie waited for her drink.

It wasn't that she didn't want to talk to Steve. It was that they collectively didn't have the time to unpack all of the shit necessary to deal with what had happened. Furthermore, she didn't really wanna trouble him with her baggage when he had his own shit to unpack and deal with at the moment.

"You've been busy," Maggie commented as her drink arrived.

"Mopping up the last of Hydra and tracking down Loki's scepter? Honestly? I'd rather be going to Argentina." Steve said with a weary sigh.

Focused on Bucky. She couldn't help but notice that he hadn't mentioned that, but it was just under the surface, for anyone who was listening and knew what to listen for. "Sam and I were talking about finding some real estate in Antarctica for a Fortress of Solitude. Wanna go halvesies?" Maggie said.

Steve looked at her, browned furrowed.

"Superman? Fortress of solitude? Somewhere to get away to think. Though I think Superman's was in the Arctic."

"Oh. Yeah. Right. I appreciate the offer, but I think I've had more than my fair share of the cold."

"I agree. Somewhere warm, Asia or Africa is what I told Sam."

"Sounds good."

"I'll keep you posted if we find anything." Maggie chuckled, taking a sip of her drink.

There was a long pause, and Maggie could feel Steve intake a long breath as he prepared to say his piece.

"James Martinez-Proctor reached out to me a few days ago, had a couple of things he wanted to give me, and wanted me to give you this." He said, removing a folded envelope from his pant's pocket, set it on the bar next to her right elbow. "He said that Becca wanted you to have it, but they didn't have enough time to get it to you before she passed."

Maggie looked down. The envelope had been heavily handled. She could see that from all the folds and lines creasing the surface. There was also a very distinctive lump in the paper, indicating that there was something, aside from a letter, nestled inside. What could be in it, she didn't know, but she could feel a lump form in her throat. Becca and Becca's family had thought enough of her to send her something.

"I wanted to deliver it to you personally. So you knew I wasn't avoiding you."

So he was learning. "Thank you, Steve," She said as she took the envelope off the bar top and slid it in her pocket. "And please send Mr. Martinez-Proctor my regards, and thanks as well."

"Of course." Steve nodded.

Maggie paused, thinking of Becca's words. You don't have to look after him, but remind him there is a life after all of this Captain America bullshit. She wasn't ready, not yet. She could barely look the man in the face right now. But Becca's words still burned like a flame, asking her to protect Steve from himself.

"Are you enjoying the party?" Maggie asked uncertainly.

"Yeah. It's nice seeing everyone. Are you?"

"Ummm." She glanced around. "Yeah? Not a huge fan of crowds. But I guess it's nice being out of the apartment and away from work for a little bit."

"If you don't mind. I actually have some people I'd like you to meet." He said slowly.

"Who?" Maggie asked warily.

"Some friends of mine," Steve said as he rose from his seat.

"Friends," she echoed flatly.

"Some veterans." Steve amended, extending a hand to help her down from the barstool.

She glanced between him and his hand skeptically.

"I know it would mean a lot to them," Steve said innocently, his big blue eyes round and sincere.

That bastard. There was a reason that people would follow him into the jaws of hell and back again, and now she'd just experienced it first hand.

"All right. But you know Sam, and I are going to have to get out of here soon. We do have a mission to take care of still." She relented, letting Steve help her down.

"You have about two hours until you have to leave," Steve said, as he led through the party. "I am aware of your itinerary."

Maggie glanced back at Sam, who was trailing behind them now, and gave him a 'do you know what's going on?' Look. He shrugged a big shit-eating grin on his face, like the unhelpful asshole he was.

Returning her focus to where she was going, Maggie found that Steve was leading her toward Thor, the literal honest to god God of Thunder, who surrounded by a group of Veterans, in the middle of an animated retelling of one of his many adventures.

"Steven. Samuel." Thor nodded in greeting as he wrapped up his story.

"Thor," Steve said. '"Gentlemen," he addressed the veterans. "I'll like to introduce you to a friend of mine. Ignacia Ramirez."

"My friends call me Maggie," Maggie interjected before anyone could get into their heads to call her Nacha. THAT was her grandmother's name, and she didn't want to deal with any tittering from Sam when he saw her annoyance.

Glancing around, she realized that quite a few of them were looking at her with some interest. "What is a nice girl like you hanging out with these two?" One of them asked in Spanish with a wink.

Oh God. Maggie hesitated as she realized that she had the full attention of about half a dozen men with the countenance and demeanor of her grandfather. "Oh. Making sure they don't get into too much trouble." She answered in Spanish with a smile.

"Your Spanish isn't bad." Another of the men chimed in also in Spanish. "Where are you from?"

"Not bad?" She echoed in mock hurt, "I'm from Texas!"

There was laughter followed by a cascade of murmurs of approval. Then the pocketbooks came out. She tensed before she realized they were all removing photos of their daughters, granddaughters, and even great-granddaughters. A few of them also had old snapshots of their wives. And they'd started bickering about who's was better looking. Oh, Steve. Maggie wasn't sure if she wanted to throttle the man or give him a kiss. Either way, it was a marked improvement from how she'd felt only a few hours before.

"I'll leave you to it," Steve said with a smile.

Maggie rolled her eyes. "Bastard." She muttered still in Spanish.

This earned a series of laughs from the group. Maggie settled down with her drink, while the men monopolized the evening talking about their wives, many of whom had passed away, and their children and assorted grandkids and great-grandkids. They didn't ask many personal questions, which Maggie was very thankful for. Mostly they were glad to be able to converse with someone in their native language, and with (as some of them had so eloquently put it) someone as beautiful as she was. She found that she was laughing by the end of it, smiling easier than she had been in well over a month. For a moment, it felt that the fog of depression had lifted, or at the very least lifted, and she could breathe, full chested, without feeling like she was choking back cheers or stifling down a panic attack. She was back among her people, the reason she'd been running an equine therapy ranch in the first place.

"Sorry, gentlemen, but I'm afraid I have to take Ms. Ramirez from you," Sam announced, putting his hand on her shoulder.

Maggie immediately felt the sharp twinge of anxiety twist in her stomach. She looked up at Sam, who was smiling warmly, amidst the chorus of complaints from her audience. "I'm sorry. Thank you for a lovely evening." She said as she rose to her feet. "Goodnight! Thank you!"

"It's good to see you laughing again," Sam murmured as they walked away and toward where Steve and Romanoff were waiting for them.

"Well. That was a one-time thing, okay? You can fully expect grouchy, depressed, angry Mags back for the duration."

"You guys heading out then?" Romanoff asked.

"Yeah. Have to get the airport and all that." Sam nodded.

"Be safe," Steve said, immersing Sam in a hug before they exchanged a chaste peck.

"You too, Steve," Sam replied softly as they parted.

Maggie turned to Romanoff, "Do you think we should kiss?"

"I mean if you want?" She smirked.

"Thanks for that, Mags." Sam rolled his eyes.

Maggie stuck her tongue out but turned to Steve, who had turned to face her squarely. "Thank you, Maggie, for coming down to the party. I hope that you enjoyed yourself at least a little bit."

"I did. Thank you, Steve." Maggie went up on tiptoes giving him a brief hug. "We'll have to talk when I get back."

"Agreed," he nodded before they parted.

Maggie turned back to Romanoff, "Thank you, for the fashion help, it was a real save."

"Any time."

"Be safe. And don't do anything stupid until we get back stateside." Maggie gave both Romanoff and Steve another round of quick hugs before Sam took her by the elbow.

"Come on. We gotta grab our bags and change." He said, not quite urgently but with enough of an edge to know that they were going to miss their plane if they lingered any longer.

"Let us know when you make it to Buenos Ares," Steve called after them.

"Will do!" Maggie waved. "Have a good rest of your evening!"

Against all the odds, it had been a quiet evening, and she hoped that it would remain a quiet evening as they traveled to Argentina and to parts unknown. Turning one last time before they disappeared out of sight, Romanoff waved with a smile before she guided Steve away and back to the main room beyond.


What are Sam and Mags going to find in Argentina? How are they going to react to the whole Sokovia SNAFU? Find out next time!

Hope you all enjoyed! I love Nat and Mags's friendship! Love to hear what y'all are thinking as this thing progresses!

As always! Happy Reading!