She had to sit again, allow herself a moment to breathe after battling with the nylon fabric for longer than should have been necessary. A band of tubular fabric clung around her stomach, making each breath a little harder than it had been before. Glancing in the mirror Natasha could see that the pair of pantyhose did their job, at least a little, and she wished that wasn't a relief.

She wished that she could see her younger self on the glass surface. A sixteen-year-old Natasha would have looked healthier, not only due to flushed cheeks and doubled hair volume which was something the current Natasha could see in herself, but the young girl had a look of excitement. A teenage version of the same woman, but a world away in terms of their dreams.

Drawing her eyes away from the mirror Natasha deleted the image from her mind, replacing it with the dress still hanging on the wardrobe door. Letting out a deep sigh, she pushed herself to her feet, wincing at the pain in her side and reaching for the dress.

She had to keep going, there was no point in waiting for things to get easier. They tried that and failed.

Avengers Facility, August 2018

Natasha could feel his eyes on her as she walked up the few front steps. Steve was supposed to be grabbing her bag and file from the trunk but she could tell he was distracted. It didn't help that he was more than aware she would try and hide her pain. He was waiting and watching for any signs she struggled. It was key he didn't see that, that she gave him no reason to worry.

Sometimes Natasha felt the others were good at forgetting her past, at forgetting she had experience keeping what she could from the governing bodies and that being on the other side meant she knew more of America's secret corruption than most Americans did. There would be eyes on already, she would be surprised - and almost disappointed - if the compound hadn't been bugged by now. There would be discussions, debates, attempts to penalise her, to penalise Cap, and there was little chance the bureaucracy wouldn't play dirty to help win their case. From now there would have to be code implemented in conversations things would have to be written on paper. A paper trail could both save you and kill you, it was about how you used it, but tech - anything connected to the internet - that was much harder to navigate.

As for the pain, her right side was throbbing as she walked up the steps having to hold her breath each time she lifted her body but trying to move quickly enough that Steve wouldn't notice. There were three broken ribs, two which were broken through and a third which was hairline. She had experienced worse, a lot worse, but she also knew she would heal within a few days. It was one of the perks of whatever crap they had put in her body all those years back, she could suffer some serious beatings but would feel the pain for half the time of the average person. It made putting yourself in the line of fire easier.

This wasn't like other forms of pain, and that was something she hadn't allowed herself to think about yet, those thoughts had been boxed up for later when she was able to unpack them. There had been no other signs before this, no signs that the little guy was anything more than typical but he was getting bigger, stronger, and now he had managed to break her ribs from the inside.

There was some relief from the pain once the stairs were completed and Natasha could walk the last few steps to the door on a flat surface. She placed her fingers on the print plate and looked into the red light which scanned and checked her retina's. She had never really planned to stay in the compound but after all that had gone down, her apartment being handed off to someone else and having no desire to find another it had become a semi-permanent home. Every time she let herself into the building she was reminded of staying in an apartment and trying to find somewhere in her suit to hide a set of keys, one of the many not so glamorous aspects of the hero lifestyle.

Hearing the locks disconnect from their sockets and the buzz of electricity before the door opened Natasha looked back at Steve. Seeing him carrying her bag, a jacket tossed over the top with her medical file in one hand and the car keys between his teeth as he struggled to organise everything he held Natasha was reminded with the bitter thought of how he would be as a real father. In another life, Steve would have been a great father, he would have been involved, the type of Dad to play catch in the backyard, to help with maths homework and to be there when his teens suffered their first breakups. In another life, Steve would have been a lot of things, she would probably have been dead.

So many parts of parenthood had been taken from him; there had been no joy in the conception; there had been no joy in the words 'Steve, I'm pregnant', only fear after the battle they had just been involved in; there was no excitement, no anticipation, he would know his son but he wouldn't raise him. It was moments like that when Natasha noticed her hand wanted to go to her belly, only recently had she allowed herself to connect with the baby that was definitely growing and thriving inside her. There was so much fear, so much unknown and the last twenty-four hours had done nothing to help with that. She hadn't known what it was when he started to kick, but until yesterday it had become something comforting and familiar. She had begun to enjoy feeling his good morning wriggles after a cup of coffee or the odd whack that felt like a telling off. Only once she had called Steve when the bruising on her right side became extreme had Natasha realised she had never told Steve that the little guy kicked at all.

"Come on old man, doors waiting."

Steve looked at her, his eyebrows raised but a smile growing on his face,

"Old huh, your the one walking like a ninety-year-old."

"True, but I'm pretty sure you're the oldest father on record, I mean otherwise that's creepy."

Steve trotted up the stairs, taking the weight of the door from her hands.

"Yeah, well speak for yourself, the first time Mom in her nineties."

Natasha ducked under his arm and into the warm building, hearing the AI welcome her as she did so.

"I've got broken ribs Rogers, but my feet are still very capable of making sure this is your last baby."

Natasha watched Steve as he buzzed around the open-plan penthouse, she had been confined to the sofa as he put things in their places. It hadn't taken long for him to put things away but that had transitioned into tidying the kitchen area and making up some pasta. She felt there was a reason he was keeping himself busy, he wanted to be needed but didn't know how to. It had worried him, that the little mouse had managed to break her ribs, even after the OB had explained that it can happen in any pregnancy if they kick the right way. She knew what he was thinking, that this was somehow his fault because it was his kid. Sometimes the old man's old-time beliefs were so ingrained he couldn't separate from them it didn't matter that she was as much a part of this as he was, he felt responsible for her injuries. He also knew that the scrapped together group of politicians that remained throughout the world were starting to get back on top of things. After this admission to the ER they could no longer ignore the pregnancy, he was stronger than normal, he was superhuman.

The messenger sent to them in the ER dressed in his suit and tie with shiny black shoes had fooled no one. He was barely an adult, probably just an intern who was being forced into a larger role after the vanishing. He had only one thing to say to them; get a lawyer.

From the sofa Natasha had been thinking, thinking about everything the spare parts version of a legal system might try to throw at her. Steve had tried to stay on the bright side as he always did on their drive home, saying they probably wanted to know the plan for the baby and its birth and make sure everything seemed ok. Natasha was born to be pessimistic, and if not, she was trained to be. She knew there was no reason to trust any government, they always had clauses and wording with multiple meanings and even if they had none of that there was always something they could pull for the right outcome.

They could claim the baby risked national security or could be a threat to the country, things that no one would know for sure until it was born. In another world, the world that stood six months ago, this kid wouldn't have come into the public eye the way he had and even if the world got wind of his existence then she and Steve would have had a much larger team to fight in their corner. They didn't have Nick, they didn't have his contacts or ex-SHIELD members to help them through but then, back when this had been a good idea they didn't know she could or would fall pregnant. Nor could anyone have known what was going to happen to the world at large.

She had a shot, it wasn't likely but Natasha knew his name hadn't yet surfaced on the constantly updating lists of the vanished. Matthew Murdock, he was an old friend, a lover from the past who not only happened to be a lawyer but who had a better understanding than most lawyers about superhumans. Even if he hadn't been listed, there was no guarantee the masked vigilante was still roaming the streets. She hadn't seen him in years, but she also hadn't tried. He had a firm, there was bound to be a web address or at the very least social media which could get her in contact with Matt. He was their best shot, the best shot for all three of them.

Natasha was brought back to the room, hearing Steve's sock-covered feet padding across the floor only moments before the clunk of a bowl being set on the coffee table in front of her.

She wasn't even sure which thoughts she'd become lost in, her mind just a thick haze. It was a symptom or a side effect - whichever word was correct. It was a sign of how the pregnancy was developing, a sign she was crossing that bridge into the last third of pregnancy and meeting the accompanying aches and tiredness.

"Thanks,"

Steve nodded back to her words, sitting down gently beside her with a bowl of his own. Glancing into her bowl Natasha was surprised to see the spaghetti noodles dressed in red pesto. Steve was becoming a modern man, a fact she would file away for a later day with a better reason to tease him.

Picking up the bowl and taking the first mouthful Natasha realised she was hungry. Food had been far from a priority with the pain she had in her ribs. The latest dose of Tylenol had taken effect and she was reminded in the ER that keeping up the pain relief was the best way to keep them effective. It was a low dose, most pain meds weren't considered safe during pregnancy. Besides, her metabolism would probably mess that up. She has barely tasted the first few forkfuls once she started eating, suddenly desperate for food and only after the fourth mouthful in silence did she see Steve gently shake his head, a smile playing on his lips.

"What?" Natasha mumbled through a mouthful of spaghetti.

Steve nodded his head pointedly towards her, at first making Natasha wonder what she'd spilt before realising it was the bowl.

"So he's a table now?" Steve asked.

Natasha shrugged, swallowing the pasta,

"Hey there aren't many perks in this whole pregnancy thing, I get the pain and the puking and the no-alcohol label, I might as well use - this - for something."

Steve chuckled again, taking another mouthful from his own bowl.

Natasha was a little surprised by the words out of her mouth. She had never actively spoken about how her body had changed, she referred to him, to James, but never to her stomach itself, she didn't know the word to use belly? Stomach? Живот? Bump?

It came back to her then, the thought she had earlier.

Steve glanced at her in confusion as Natasha placed her bowl back on the table and pulled up her shirt so the fabric pooled on top of her bump. She reached out for Steve's hand, taking hold of his wrist.

"What are you doing?" He asked but let her move his hand all the same till his palm was placed flat on the side of her belly.

"You should know him. I know him more than you do, and I won't be a part of his life. They can hear from in the womb, recognise voices. You should know what this feels like, what it feels like to touch my stomach, what it is like when he moves."

The laughter had gone from Steve's face, he looked almost sad but all the same, he shifted himself closer to her on the sofa, placing his other hand on the opposite side. He very gently thumbed her skin, not knowing what to do with himself.

Natasha was about to move his hands, give him instructions on where best to feel the movements when they were moved by a third party.

Steve's hand jolted and his eyes went wide in surprise, he seemed to freeze for a second then his eyes flicked from his hand to Natasha's face. Meeting her gaze he began to smile, a shy smile that grew quickly into a grin.

A second kick came, shutting Steve off before the words he planned to speak could come out. He laughed.

Natasha found she was smiling too, delighted by proxy to Steve's reactions. To him feeling James squirming inside her body.

"He's strong isn't he?"

Natasha rolled her eyes,

"The baby conceived with superhero sperm, who happens to have broken three of my ribs despite weighing less than a pound? Yeah, you could say he's strong."

Steve winced,

"Yeah, sorry about that, I'll pay for the damages."

She laughed,

"Please, I own the virginity of Captain America, not many people can match that."

Steve sighed,

"You know, that's not supposed to become common know-."

He was cut off by another kick under his hand. Cautiously, with his eyes flashing from Natasha's face to her belly, he leaned in closer to her and gently kissed the spot where the baby had kicked.

Natasha was surprised to feel tears come to her eyes, she had to blink hard to stop them from falling. It was hormones, or so she told herself, the connection was sweet to witness and she felt for the man beside her. She also had the stress of all this government business as well as pain, a lack of alcohol and sex.

Natasha wasn't able to have the life she was used to, it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. She was glad that she hadn't had to try and search for a one night hook up since the population halved. She had thought about it, and God her flipping hormones had made her desperate at times, but she couldn't sleep with someone while another man's baby was inside her - even if Steve and she were not a couple.

"I'm gonna head old man, get some sleep, if this little guy will let me."

Steve nodded, she could see the emotion in his face too but now wasn't the time to bring it up or they'd both become a soppy mess. Steve sat back allowing Natasha to pull herself slowly up to standing, breathing slowly to try and combat the pain.

Steve watched her for a second before standing himself and giving Natasha a very gentle hug,

"Thank you, Natasha, for doing all of this. For carrying him, things changed fast and, as much as I can't believe you went into combat while pregnant, I know that you didn't have to keep it up. You could have aborted back then,"

"But instead I decided to give my best friend a baby. It's kind of nice, sometimes. I knew I'd never be pregnant so I never thought about it, but here we are."

Steve kissed her forehead.

"Go, get some sleep, we'll work this all out later. We just need to take it a day at a time."