DISCLAIMER: ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE.

~0~0~0~0~0~

Steve wasn't sure how long they were stuck there. It could have been merely seconds, or minutes, or even hours. His back strained from the weight above them, and his arm felt ready to drop from it's socket as he kept the shield over them, stopping them from getting crushed completely. With one final grunt, he managed to push away the rubble piled on top of them, keeping Natasha as close to him as he could.

"Nat?" He whispered, looking down. Her face was covered in ash and dust, and her eyes were closed. There was a softness to her, as if she was asleep. His heart tightened. "Nat? Wake up, Nat. Please."

But, the spy didn't stir, didn't so much as twitch.

"I'm so sorry, Nat." He whispered, gathering her up carefully in his arms and lifting her up. He held her close, even though he had already failed to protect her. They were surrounded by large chunks of concrete and small, burning fires.

Then, he heard it. The unmissable sound of engines circling above.

Spotlights shone down from the dark sky, searching. Searching for them.

As quickly as he could, Steve headed east, back to where the vehicle he had 'borrowed' was tucked away into the shadows still. Rumlow would be too busy scanning through the mess to even think to look round the outskirts of the camp just yet. They had minutes, if that, to get out.

"Nat, we're going to be okay." He told her quietly, easing her as carefully as he could into the car. He cupped her cheek, allowing himself seconds to look over her face and try to put to memory every little detail about her. All he wanted was to hear her sarcastic voice as she teased her, or see that playful smile on her lips again. If he lost her…

But, then, she stirred. Slowly, at first, and then her emerald eyes darted open and landed straight on his face. They softened almost instantly. "Well," She coughed out. "That was rough."

"Oh, Nat," His legs practically gave out underneath him. His head dropped into her lap, his arms enclosing around her body as he shut his eyes tight. A second later, he felt her fingers gliding through his hair, comforting him. "I thought I lost you."

It surprised her, this revelation, the desperate, broken voice that came from him. Steve was always so strong and reserved, that to see such raw emotion from him was strange for her. But, it wasn't unpleasant. No. Instead, it made her feel warm, protected. A feeling she hadn't felt very often in her entire life.

She gently eased her fingers under his chin, lifting his head so she could look into his eyes. "It's going to take a lot more than that for you to get rid of me, Rogers." She told him.

He rose up, but didn't move away from her. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if he was about to kiss her. Excitement surged through her, but nerves tainted that feeling. Her breath caught in her throat, but she knew that if his lips captured hers, she wouldn't resist.

In his own mind, he debated whether to kiss her or not. He wanted to. God, he wanted nothing else than the chance to kiss her properly. But, how could he? He didn't understand why he felt the way he did about her, and he had already convinced himself that such feelings would never be returned.

So, instead, he hugged her to him, needing the physical reminder that she was really here, that he hadn't lost her, that he hadn't failed her completely. Every bit of distrust and bitterness he had felt about what she had done vanished in that moment. He'd forgiven her completely. He'd always forgive her.

Natasha wrapped her arms around him, hugging him back just as tightly, trying to ignore her disappointment. She had seen the fear on his face at the compound, not from the threat of SHIELD and the collapsing building, but at the thought of her getting hurt.

"We need to go." Steve said in her ear. "Rumlow will have practically swept the place out by now. We need somewhere safe. Hide low for a little while."

Reluctantly, she let go of him so he could shut the door and climb into the driver's seat on the other side of the car. Needing that closeness to him still, she rested her hand on his knee, her thumb stroking over his jeans.

"You know somewhere safe?" She asked with a small chuckle. Their whole world had been turned around right in front of them, but she still had it in her to make a joke. That relaxed him.

He put the car in gear. "Yeah, I know a place."

~0~0~0~0~0~

That place turned out to be Sam Wilson's house. Although Steve and the veteran weren't exactly friends, Sam had been willing to let them stay with them, regardless of the target it now put on his back.

"I've only got one spare room." Sam admitted, somewhat awkwardly, as Natasha and Steve wandered into the house, thankful to have a roof over their heads at last. As guilty as Steve was for bringing Sam into this mess, he was beyond relieved that for the time being, they were both safe.

"I'll take the couch." Steve said, before Natasha could even open her mouth. Still, she gave him a light glare for his gentlemanly ways. For the first time in a while, Steve smiled. "Mind if we use the shower, Sam?"

"Knock yourselves out." The veteran replied. "I'll head out to the store and grab us something for dinner. You guys look like a good meal is exactly what you need. Steve, there's no way my shirts are going to fit you, man, so if you guys want, feel free to help yourselves to the washing machine." Grabbing his keys off the counter, Sam left with a small wave.

"He's a good guy." Natasha commented.

Steve dipped his head in agreement. "He sure is. Showers all yours."

"Is that your kind way of telling me that I smell, Rogers?" She jibed, but headed to the bathroom where Sam had gestured to moments before.

There was a glint in Steve's blue eyes as he responded, "Just a little."

To tease him, and just because she wanted to, Natasha shimmied out of her jeans and vest, leaving her standing in just her underwear, which thankfully, was black and slightly lacey. She threw her clothes at the Captain, who looked completely stunned at her bold action and barely caught them in time to prevent them from falling onto the ground at his feet. At least, he was gentlemanly enough to not stare at her with an open mouth.

With a little smile and a purposeful swish of her hips, Nat stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

Safe to say, as he shoved their clothes into the washing machine, Steve had a hard time concentrating on much else other than the memory of her practically naked body in front of him. That soft skin, the curves of her breasts, the way her slender waist fanned out to those deliciously distracting hips of hers, the way the muscles of her thighs had been so perfectly contoured by the light shining in from the window behind her...

She was going to be the death of him.

Natasha had a quick shower, thankful to get the layer of dust and grime off her body. There were no bath products to suggest that a woman lived here, but Natasha was fine with making do with the shampoo on the windowsill and the soap that had a pleasant smell of oranges.

"Steve?" She called out once she'd turned the water off. "Do you mind grabbing me a shirt or something?"

Seconds later, and there was a gentle knock on the door.

"It's unlocked." She told him with a small smile. Although his gentlemanly ways riled her up, she adored them at the same time.

He opened the door enough to chuck a shirt at her. "Try to behave yourself, Romanoff." He practically growled through the gap of the doorway, and she wondered if he meant for his voice to sound as flirtatious as it did. Either way, it left her clenching her legs together.

Rolling her eyes, she shoved the top on and headed out. She wasn't quite prepared to find Steve Rogers sitting on a small bed at the other side of the room wearing nothing but a white vest and his jeans. God, those arms of his were enough to send her heart into overdrive.

Her cheeks started to burn, threatening a blush. So, she bantered with him, "Do I get a strip tease now?"

He got up and headed straight towards her, and for a moment, she thought he was going to take her in his arms, pin her against the wall and kiss her senseless. She'd let him, too. She wanted it. Craved it. She'd wrap her legs around that waist of his and pull him against her so she could feel him against her. She thought about it far too much, in far too much detail...

But, he simply brushed past her, replying in a low whisper, "Maybe another day."

As she sat on the bed and towel-dried her hair, Natasha was left alone to evaluate exactly what they had just been through. SHIELD had been infiltrated, poisoned from the inside. People who they thought they could trust may not turn out to be allies after all. Did Hill know? Had Fury known?

The thought of her now-dead mentor still stung, the wound was still left fresh and open. She pushed away the sadness that entered her chest, and turned it into fuel, into determination to avenge Fury's death. She'd find out who ordered it and take her time, torturing them, ensuring that they suffered…

And then, a different train of thought entered her mind. Of Steve's blank face at the bunker as they listened to Zola tell them how they had failed, how SHIELD had failed. At the lost, heart-broken look in his eyes as he gazed up at the photo of the brunette woman with the pride, cheery smile. He'd lost himself to the memories of his past, before the ice. A Steve Rogers she did not know.

Finally, she thought of how he'd protected her in the bunker, kept her against him and whispered to her that everything would be fine. He didn't hate her anymore, but she had to know if he trusted her. The way he had reacted when she had come around...the way he had hugged her and looked on the verge of tears...it was all too real to ignore.

"You okay?" Steve's voice, so familiar and comforting, brought her away from her muddled thoughts. He stood in the now open bathroom door, back in his vest and jeans. Those powerful arms of his moved as he wiped his hands with a towel, and she had a hard time not staring at them, remembering how they had felt holding her.

Honestly, it should be considered a crime to be this attractive.

She gave him a small smile that she knew didn't reach her eyes. "Yeah." Her voice was quiet, too quiet.

Slowly, he came to sit opposite her, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned closer. He smelt of oranges, just as she did. "What's going on in that head of yours?" It wasn't a demand, an order that she had to obey. It was a question of concern, because he cared about her. After all they had been through, he cared.

In that moment, she almost crawled into his lap and buried her head into his neck, just having him against her to calm the fear that prickled inside her. But, she resisted. "When I first joined SHIELD, I thought I was going straight." She admitted. "But I guess I just traded in the KGB for HYDRA."

They had spoken about the KGB only once. She had given him a small run-down on her past, only the small details that seemed important to tell him. After all, they had been working together for months now on several missions. But, she'd never once gone into dept, simply because she had been so frightened about the look that would appear on his face when he found out exactly what she had done, what she was capable of doing. He had no idea about the Red Room, or Madame B and the other tutors, on the assessments she had been forced to go through, of the victims of her cruel training...

She looked down at her hands, fisted into the damp towel in her lamp. "I thought I knew whose lies I was telling, but...I guess I can't tell the difference anymore."

Steve reached over and took one of her hands in his. He gave it a gentle squeeze. "There's a chance you might be in the wrong business." He echoed her words, even though it felt like a lifetime since they had driven away from the mall and she had been teasing him.

Still, she looked into his eyes and smiled, actually meaning it. Her heart lifted slightly. As their eyes met, a realisation dawned on her. "I owe you." Without him, she would have died, crushed beneath that falling bunker.

He shook his head softly. "It's okay."

She remembered his words, his shaking words as he held her once she had come around, I thought I'd lost you. "If it was the other way around, and it was down for me to save your life, now you be honest with me, would you trust me to do it?" She needed to know, even if his answer broke her heart. Even if, after all this time, a part of him still hated him for going behind his back on that ship.

But, his response was not what she had prepared herself for. "I would now." Honest. His honesty strengthened those words, made her believe them without a second of doubt. Steve had never lied to her. "Don't give me that look, Romanoff." He added, a grin appearing on his face. "I'm always honest."

She chuckled. "Well, you seem pretty chipper for someone who just found out they died for nothing."

For a moment, he didn't respond, and she panicked. Perhaps, she had taken it too far. But then, he rolled his eyes at her. "Well, I guess I just like to know who I'm fighting."

"Well," She said, leaning closer to him. "I hope you know who you're fighting with."

His eyes flicked over her face, slowly, as if the artist in him wanted to note every last detail to memory. With a small stab of sadness, she realised she'd never actually seen him draw anything, even though she knew he loved it. What inspired him? How long had it been since he had felt the urge to pick up a pencil and bring something to life on a piece of paper or a canvas?

This time, when he leaned closer to her face, she was positive he was about to kiss her. Her heart pounded in her chest as she closed her eyes, his breath brushing over her face, his lips hovering over hers. But then -

"Kids, I'm home. I brought pizza."

Although she would probably always be thankful for Sam for offering his place as a safehouse, Natasha could have easily kicked his ass for his terrible sense of timing.

She and Steve froze where they were, his hand dropping hers, even though the door to their room shut. She worried it was going to be awkward, that he would recoil from her instantly, but Steve didn't move a single inch away from her. "Come on," He said gently, leaning forward so that his lips brushed against her cheek, so close to the corner of her mouth that it made her body ache for him, before he stood and offered his hand once again.

Trying her hardest to not let her disappointment show, Natasha took his hand and allowed him to help her up.

They settled down around Sam's small table and dug in, with Steve and Natasha both insisting that when things got back to normal, they would pay him back for his kindness. Sam shrugged their offer off, deciding that them telling him exactly what they had gone through would be payment enough.

Sam retreated to his room, clearly wanting to leave the two of them to discuss what the next stage in their plan was. But, Natasha was far too tired to want to think about tomorrow. Right now, she just wanted a few hours of peace, to settle her mind.

"I don't want you sleeping on that couch tonight." She said suddenly, taking Steve by surprise, so much so that he almost dropped the crust of pizza in his hand.

His wide eyes settled slightly after a moment of genuine surprise. "Nat, I'll be-"

"It's too small for you. No offense to Sam, but it doesn't look particularly comfortable, either." She said quickly, too quickly. Instantly, she felt flustered. The Black Widow never got flustered.

But, perhaps, when it came to this man, Natasha Romanoff did.

"I've slept in worse places." Steve reminded her, his stubbornness extending to his need to be a gentleman. "You're having the bed. There's no negotiating on this-"

"I don't want you sleeping on that couch." Natasha repeated firmly. "I want us to share the bed."

Again, shock spread across his face. Natasha couldn't really blame him; she was taken aback by her own forwardness as well. But, she had long ago mastered the ability to shield her face of emotion, and she refused to remove the mask now, even though her heart thundered inside her chest and her hands felt suddenly sweaty.

"I...um...are you sure, Nat?" He asked.

She nodded, rising to her feet. Confident. Be confident. "Come on. It's already far too late, and neither of us want to drop dead from exhaustion tomorrow."

He followed her into the small guest room, wordless as she pulled the sheets back and nestled underneath them. Somewhat awkwardly, he pulled his jeans off and slipped in beside her. It wasn't a large bed by any standards, but it gave them both room on either side of their bodies.

"Goodnight, Steve." She said, rolling on her side so she was facing the wall. If she looked at him for too long, she knew she'd probably do something to embarrass herself further than she already had.

He looked up at the ceiling, more than aware of the woman lying beside him, only inches from him. "Night, Nat." He said, and closed his eyes, settling into a sleep that consumed him gladly.

~0~0~0~0~0~

Blood was everywhere.

It stained the walls, dripping off the battered wallpaper and creating tiny red pools on the floor. It coated her hands, so dark that it didn't seem possible that it would ever be scrubbed off. It covered her clothes, weighing her down. The iron scent was so strong in the air that it choked her.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Across the room from her, scattered across the floor, were bodies of people she had never even met. She did not know their ages, or their names, or what they did for a living. But, they were someone's family, someone's friend. She'd slain them where they stood, while they were weaponless.

Her mind had been blank for the duration of the killing, as it always resorted to being, as if that made it easier to forget what she was doing. As if, by ignoring it, she could pretend that she didn't see their fear-stricken eyes, or hear their last shuddered breaths, or be able to listen to their prayers or cursing as they spat at her.

Killing had become second nature to her.

You do not falter, Natalia. Madame B's voice entered the room, but as Natasha spun round, she could not see the hauntly hooded woman anywhere. You do not feel. You do not question. That ruthlessness inside you has always lurked within you. We have merely taught you how to wield it.

That cold, brutal reality started to sink into her, as the stench of blood continued to hit her nose, causing her to gag. Although she had found herself inside this room with the bodies already lifeless in front of her, she knew that she wouldn't have even hesitated. She wouldn't have wasted a second on protesting, on asking what these people had even done to deserve such a horrible end. No, she had been taught to get on with the job, to never ask questions. What sort of person did that make her?

This was your destiny from the start.

This is what makes you the Black Widow.

"Natasha?"

You did well, Natalia. So very well. Madame B's praise stroked at her soul, tainting it with darkness with each word.

Her hands clenched into fists at her side, so strongly that her nails cut into her palm. She welcomed that pain. She deserved the pain, so much more of it, for all the things she had done.

The blood continued to suffocate her, continued to cloud her senses until all she could see was red. It felt as if it was seeping into her, eating away at her, overwhelming her so that she would drown in it.

You never fail us, Natalia. The wicked voice of her former mentor purred.

She hated that name. The name that her parents hadn't given her, because they hadn't been in her life long enough to even give her such a thing as a name of her own. Had the Red Room given it to her? Her gut twisted, and she was convinced that if her heart raced any faster, it would surely explode.

"Natasha, wake up."

Steve? Her heartbeat quickened painfully in her chest as she recognised his deep, concerned voice. Oh, God, was he here? He couldn't be here. He couldn't see her like this. If he saw what she had done…

But, the room was empty, apart from her and the lifeless, draining bodies of the nameless people she had killed. But, her breath caught at the sound of her name, her actual name she had picked as her own, for years. The name that had been her choice, her chance of redemption.

"Natasha, it's okay. It's okay. Wake up." Something was shaking her. In the back of her mind, she could sense that, but when she blinked, she found herself still in that bloodied, lifeless room.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

I have no place in the world.

Her knees buckled underneath her, instantly dampening from the blood soaked floor. Clutching her arms around herself tightly, she screamed as the walls started to close in around her.

This time, when she blinked, she found herself sat bolt upright in the bed. Her chest heaved as oxygen returned from her thirsty lungs, and sweat coated her forehead. A strong arm was around her back, and Steve's chest was against her side as he held her tightly.

Beside her, Steve whispered, "It's okay, Nat. You're okay. It was a nightmare."

The functional part of her recognised that he hadn't used the word 'just', as if he understood that it wasn't just a simple trick of her sleeping mind. It had been real, so raw that she had been able to smell and feel that blood as it surrounded her, because that room hadn't been something her imagination had come up with. Too many times before, she had found herself in a room like that. Perhaps, the amount of blood was a little over-dramatised in the nightmare, but the lifeless bodies had been real. Although her kills had always been clean, she had always considered her hands as blood-covered and guilty.

A hand was stroking her back, comforting and steady. Steve. "It's okay." He repeated. "It's okay. I've got you. I've got you."

I've got you. She closed her eyes and took a deep, slightly shaky breath. She allowed herself to breathe in the scent of cinnamon and pine that belonged to him. Woodsy, warm, soothing.

Moments stretched as she leaned into his embrace, her head tucking neatly under his chin. Steve kept whispering to her, his mouth close to her ear, and she willed herself to believe in what he was saying.

"I've got you." He said, his hand continuing to rub circles into her back.

When she finally felt ready, she said, "I'm sorry."

He stilled, and the silence between them was so unbearable she felt as if it was crushing her, but it didn't last long. "You never have to apologise, Nat. Not to me. Not ever."

Tilting her head, she looked up at him. Half expecting to see a glimmer of shock in his eyes, she was relieved to find his blue gaze was soft and understanding. "Did I wake you?"

"I'm a light sleeper." He reassured her. "You were shaking."

Somehow, her body was no longer trembling, and she knew it was because he was holding her so closely. She tried not to overthink that fact. "Do you get nightmares, sometimes?" Her question came out in the most hushed whisper, but she knew he would hear it.

"Sometimes," He admitted, and she didn't push him to explain further, not when she herself didn't want to talk about her own nightmare. "Are you okay, now?"

Her heart rate had started to slow down, so she nodded slowly. "Yes."

"You don't have to always put on a brave face around me, Nat." He reminded her gently, his hand gliding up and down her spine. "It's alright, to not be okay all the time."

If he knew the reason behind the nightmare, would he be sat here with his arms around her, holding her and telling her that everything was okay? Her heart tightened. "I just want to go back to sleep." Coward. She was such a coward.

But, Steve didn't protest, just like she knew he wouldn't. "Alright,"

As his arms loosened around her, she spoke before her head could tell her to not be so foolish. "Steve?"

His eyes flicked back to her face, clearly surprised. "Yes, Nat?"

"Can…" Stupid, stupid girl. "Would you...could you hold me? I…" The words 'I feel safe with you' danced at the tip of her tongue, but something held her back from saying them, resorting in her becoming a flustered mess right in front of him. Her cheeks heated up, and she just prayed the darkness of the room would hide that.

However, Steve didn't comment, nor did he so much as chuckle at her flushed request. Instead, his lips pressed against her temple, staying there a little longer before he said, "Of course." When his mouth moved from her skin, it left a tingling sensation behind that was far too pleasant.

As they lay back down and Steve drew the blanket up over their bodies, his arm did not move from behind her head. His other hand rested over her stomach, but he seemed to make sure that the blanket was between them. She could feel his heart beating against his chest, and the sound of it eased her back into sleep.

This time, her nightmare didn't find her.

~0~0~0~0~0~

When Steve woke up the next morning, hair was tickling his nose.

He looked down carefully, finding the top of Nat's head resting below his chin. Her head was on his chest, her arm stretched out over him. Her legs were tangled amongst his. Considering that she was only wearing an oversized shirt, that the skin of her sinful legs exposed, meaning that they were currently against his own bare skin.

His arm was underneath her pillow, supporting her neck. For a moment, he wondered if he could gently ease her off him, so she wouldn't wake up and be flustered. He didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable and he especially did not want to remind her of the nightmare that had left her so shaken.

But, having her so close to him brought him more peace than any good night's sleep ever good. Hearing the gentle sound of her breathing, feeling the small rise and fall of her chest, and being surrounded by her scent reminded him that she was okay. He hadn't lost her or failed her, back at that bunker. Despite everything that had happened between them, she was at his side. That gave him the strength that he hadn't realised he had needed.

Then, she stirred, her eyes blinking open in confusion. "Steve?" She whispered.

He instantly felt flustered. "I didn't-"

"Shush," She whispered, surprising him once again when she nuzzled closer to him instead of launching herself away from him. "Don't ruin it."

Smiling despite himself, Steve simply let her drift back to sleep. There was a small alarm clock on the bedside table which told him it was only four in the morning. A few more hours wouldn't hurt. They both needed to be awake to face the kind of day that was no doubt waiting for them.

They'd have to address this, whatever this was between them. It muddled his brain too much. He'd never experienced this sort of thing before with anyone; the teasing that often led to flirtatious comments and glances, the comfort he found when he was with her. It was all new to him, and it was a struggle to not let it overpower him completely, but he knew that neither of them could afford to rush into anything. If she even felt anything for him. Perhaps, she really was just flirty by nature.

But, as Natasha had said, he shouldn't ruin it. This was a sacred moment of peace for both of them, a moment to forget what was happening around them. No walls. No barriers. For that moment, he was more than happy to drift back to sleep.

The next time he opened his eyes, it was because Natasha had moved away from him. She sat up and stretched her arms, the muscles of her back moving underneath the material of her shirt. A primal, unfamiliar part of Steve wasn't happy with the sight of her wearing another's man's clothes.

When she looked over her shoulder and smiled softly at him, however, nothing in the world mattered. "Good morning, Sleeping Beauty."

He rolled his eyes, a smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, well, your hair isn't actually a picture in the morning either."

She tilted her head back and laughed, not loud enough to disturb Sam, but happily enough that it made Steve's smile widen. "We both know that's a lie."

They took it in turns to wash, Steve of course insisting that Natasha went first. She'd stuck her tongue out at him before closing the room to the bathroom, and he'd sat on the edge of the bed and tried not to think of just how close they had been, how his body had reacted to such closeness. He prayed that she hadn't noticed.

Her clothes from yesterday had been washed, so she came back wearing her black vest and jeans. He'd never seen her wear bright colours, but that didn't really matter. Black suited her. It highlighted the fire of her hair and made her eyes appear a rich shade of green when they caught the light.

There was no awkwardness between them, thankfully. She smiled softly as he went to get changed, and waited for him before they headed to the kitchen.

Sam was there already, with a selection of bowls containing eggs, bacon, beans, sausages and a rack of toast. "You can't say I'm not a good host." He greeted them good-naturedly as they all took their seats around the table.

"I'll be sure to leave a five star review." Natasha said with a smile as she accepted the bowl of eggs that Steve handed to her.

"So, what's the plan?" Sam asked eagerly. They all silently knew that breakfast was not a time for relaxing. Time was running out on them, fast. This meal was to regain any strength they could and to iron out the finer details of their plan.

"The main question is, who at SHIELD could launch a domestic missile strike?" Natasha pointed out.

Steve bit into a slice of buttered toast. "Pierce," He'd had his suspicions all along about the guy. Something just didn't quite sit well with him about Pierce, and he knew Natasha felt the same.

She nodded. "Who happens to be sitting on top of the most secure building in the world."

"But, he's not working alone." Steve said thoughtfully. The toast in his mouth was warm, but tasteless to him as his mind worked furiously to understand what exactly was happening. "Zola's algorithm was on the Lemurian Star."

"So was Jasper Sitwell," Natasha pointed out, referring to the seemingly spineless man who had cowered before the pirates. Sitwell, who could easily be used as a puppet, a parrot, willing to echo and follow whoever ordered him around.

Steve looked at her, and could see the fierce determination that burned in her eyes. "So, the real question is, how do the two most wanted people in Washington kidnap a SHIELD officer in broad daylight?"

Sam got up, grabbed something off the counter and passed it to Steve. "The answer is, you don't."

"What's this?" Steve asked, picking up the photo.

"Call it a resume."

Steve held the photo up, adjusting it so Natasha could also so. She regarded it carefully, and then asked, "Is this Bakhmala? The Khalid Khandil mission, that was you?"

Sam dipped his head, leaving Steve momentarily staring at him as if he was a completely new person. There was so much they did not know about Sam, yet they trusted him enough to stay in his house when they had no were to go, because he made Steve feel like it was a safe, sensible option. Being what they were made it hard for them to trust strangers, yet Sam had only ever been a friend, a hand offering to help pick Steve back up should he need it.

"You didn't say he was a Pararescue," Natasha said, looking up at Steve.

Glancing down at the image of Sam stood alongside another soldier, dressed in gear in the middle of the desert, Steve understood. "Is this Riley?"

"Yeah." Sam replied, with a noticeable touch of sadness in his voice.

"I heard they couldn't bring in the choppers because of the RPGs." Natasha said. "What did you use? A stealth chute?"

Sam grinned slightly. "No." He handed Steve the second item in his hand, a thick file. "These."

Carefully, Steve opened the file, revealing an image that surprised him - and, gave both him and Natasha the smallest spike of hope. "I thought you said you were a pilot?"

Sam laughed. "I never said pilot."

Giving them somewhere to stay for the night was one thing, but asking something so dangerous of him was another. He and Natasha already had targets on their back. He couldn't possibly expect Sam to willingly sacrifice so much to join them in a battle that wasn't his to fight. "I can't ask you to do this, Sam. You got out for a good reason."

"Dude," Sam folded his arms over his chest. "Captain America needs my help. There's no better reason to get back in."

There was no arguing on this, that was clear in the veteran's voice and the gleam in his eye. Sam was ready.

Steve exchanged a glance with Natasha, who nodded. "Well, then, where can we get our hands on one of these things?"

"The last one is at Fort Meade. Behind three guarded gates and a 12 inch-steel wall."

Natasha was already smiling at the challenge, and the look in her eye confirmed that she was up for whatever was coming next. His mind remembered how she had been shaking from her nightmare that night, how she had requested she held him so she could sleep easier. That woman was gone. The walls were back up, but more than that, her fiery side had returned. That in itself, gave Steve a much needed boost.

Closing the file, Steve said, "Shouldn't be a problem."

~0~0~0~0~0~

It was definitely time to add a little bit of heat to this story ;)