A knock on her door startled Natasha out of her thoughts, "Nat? Are we not training today?" Steves voice made Natasha's stomach clench in anxiety, what had he heard?

"... I didn't hear anything Nat, your thoughts are safe."

"Ugh, just come in Steve." Steve opened the door hesitantly. "Just let me change really fast and I'll head over to the training room with you. Sorry I'm late." She grabbed some pants out of a drawer and made to start putting them on. Steve quickly darted his eyes down and away, edging back towards the door. Natasha looked up, her hands on her waistband, listening to his thoughts. "Seriously? You're leaving?"

"Nat I'm just trying to keep my head above water here, you can hear every thought I have about you and I would rather you not hear… you know.. every thought."

"You've got to be kidding me. I just woke up, I haven't showered, I'm gross."

"You have no concept of your effect on men."

Natasha looked at him, still poised to change. With a wicked grin, she slipped the edge of her pants below her hip bone, "Too much for you Rogers?" To her amusement, a look of panic crossed his face and she started catching thoughts that he half stopped, but not in time to hide them from her. Briefly, images of Natasha and Steve floated through both their heads, skin on skin, breathless. As Natasha listened, transfixed, his thoughts suddenly changed. Steve remembered what she had told him one night about a particularly terrible Red Room punishment. Steve's mind switched to his own memory of her lying at the feet of Everett Ross only months ago, her suffering causing him real pain. His fantasies quickly fled.

Slowly, Natasha adjusted her pants back in place, staring at Steve.

Answering her unasked question Steve thought at her, "I won't be added to the list of people who hurt you. Your experience with men has been a nightmare. You use and get used, and that's not what I want for you." He hesitated a moment, "Especially if we ever…" He shook his head.

"I won't be that guy," he said out loud. Natasha just stared at him, not knowing what to say. "I'll meet you in the training room," Steve said briskly as he turned and walked out the door.

Natasha fought furiously for control over her own thoughts, determined not to make the connection between Steve and Kristoff until Steve was safely occupied and not listening. She went to the mirror and began methodically brushing her hair, focusing on every detail of the daily ritual until her mind was numb and totally absorbed in her task. She put the brush down and set about changing her clothes. Only when she had made her bed and fished the broken clock out from behind her bedstand did she dare to listen for Steve. Cautiously she searched for him. He was in the training room, his mind purposefully blank as he focused on his drill with the heavy bags.

Natasha sat heavily on her bed. I won't be that guy. She felt nauseous….

You have failed to deliver us the information we need. Prepare target for extraction.

Natasha stared at the note on her bedside table, a feeling of dread rolling through her. She shook herself. He was just a man. Don't start believing your own con Natalia. She had more pressing things to worry about then the welfare of one man. Like her own skin. She hadn't failed a mission in years, but that wouldn't stop them from punishing her for it. She shuddered.

Kristoff had been unlike any target she had ever had. He was so joyful, so carefree. He was kind to everyone, even the wretched looking beggars on the street. And on top of it all, he seemed genuinely interested in who she was. The problem was, when he asked her questions about herself she didn't know the real answers. It made her think. Who was she? Where did the KGB stop and Natalia Romanoff begin?

Kristoff spent so much time learning about her that she found it incredibly difficult to turn the topic back to him. Most men loved talking about themselves, making themselves feel important by telling her their secrets. The ones that didn't she simply got into bed and they would tell her anything she wanted to know. But Kristoff seemed morally unassailable, and the more time she spent with him, the less she desired to use him in that way. She had spent a full week with him and gotten no useful information. Her superiors were furious.

Natasha looked at herself in the mirror, gripping the sides of the bathroom counter so hard that he knuckles turned white. This was simply a momentary lack of judgement. She would get him to a place in the open where he could be easily taken. They would torture him for information and he would die. She would bear her punishment like the hardened spy she was and move on from this. Everyone had off days, this was just her turn. He was only one man.

She turned on her heel and strode out the door to meet him.

"Natalia." Kristoff let her name roll off his tongue, "It suits you so much more than Sasha! Why did you give me a fake name?"

Natasha smiled grimly, linking her arm in his, "It's Russian. I don't use it around here because Russians tend to be… distrusted." And rightly so, she thought to herself moodily. Why keep secrets from him? He would be dead within the week.

Kristoff grinned down at her, "Always so paranoid. This is America! You're safe now." He kissed the side of her head and grinned. His smile was infectious, and she felt the corners of her mouth turn up in spite of herself.

"I'm glad you told me. It's a beautiful name." He smiled at her kindly before stepping away to make a purchase.

She watched him as he bought them some roasted chestnuts from a street vendor, striking up a conversation with the older man at the cart. She pulled her wrap around her more tightly, but she was chilled by more than the crisp autumn air.

"Here, to ward off the cold," he said handing her the chestnuts, "Natalia," he said as though testing the name, "Natalia."

Natasha tugged his arm. "Kristoff, don''t use it in public." Natasha looked around fearfully,certain her handlers were close. Telling him her true name was grounds for death, directly going against her training. Somehow she felt she had owed it to him.

Kristoff sobered as he saw her fear, "I'm sorry, I'll be more careful." He looked around, then whispered, "Can I use it when no one can hear but us?" She gave him a grudging smile, "Yes, I think that's fine." He nodded and led her away from the street and into the park. She felt sick, he was making this too easy. He led them to a park bench beneath a large oak, and sat down next to her.

Lacing his fingers in hers he brought their hands to his lips. He smiled at her, "I like knowing your secrets." Natasha's heart squeezed, knowing what her secrets would cost him. He played with her fingers affectionately, bringing them to his lips reverently. With every kiss, he whispered her name like the secret it was, "Natalia, Natalia, Natalia." Something in Natasha seemed to crack and loosen alarmingly. Suddenly the weight of what she was about to do was too much. It wasn't right, he deserved to live. Her mind finally sharp with new purpose, she knew she had to get him back home. The Russian operatives wouldn't have the resources to extract him from there, they needed him out in the open.

Natasha did the only thing she could think to do, she kissed him, hard. Surprised, Kristoff froze for a moment, but quickly began to kiss her back. Natasha was relieved, she was in control again. This she understood. Wrapping her arms around his neck she pulled him closer and whispered tantalizingly in his ear, "Can we go home?" She kissed his ear and down his neck, and felt his pulse quicken in response. At last something familiar to her. He could still be manipulated.

Kristoff slowed the kiss and deepened it, making Natahsa's mind seem to fuzz around the edges. He put his hands on her shoulders and gently, so very gently, pushed her back and off of him. She stared at him uncomprehending, shocked.

"Sasha… Natalia. This wasn't my intention. I hope you know that."

Natasha's blood went cold, she could not fail this mission. She took his hand and smiled at him, her eyes adoring, "Kristoff, I want to be with you. I've never felt more safe. I trust you."

"That's the thing, I want you to be able to trust me. I want to protect you from everything that could hurt you. Including me. Sasha if we go home…"

She edged closer, desperate now, "I know what I want Kristoff."

"See, I don't think you do. You're new here, probably homesick. You've had a hard time of it, you're injured still. You can't just give yourself to the first nice guy that comes along. Sasha, you need to be careful. I'm not in a rush."

Natasha took a deep breath and looked at him thoughtfully, determined to save him. She played with his fingers for a moment in silence. "Kristoff, I've never met anyone like you. My motivation isn't loneliness, or simply seeking comfort." She hesitated, "Kristoff, I think I love you…" With bewilderment, she felt the heat of a blush blossom in her face. Kristoff noted it and visibly softened. Natasha pressed her hands to her face, confirming the heat there. This was quickly spiraling out of control. She pressed a kiss onto Kristoffs lips, softly and first and then more urgently, determined to win him over this time. She guided his hand to the small of her back, easing his fingers under her shirt. For one short moment Natasha felt triumphant as he roughly pulled her in close against him before he broke away fuming. Hands on his head he marched himself away from her then stopped to observe her from a distance.

"You are nearly irresistible," he said, panting.

Natasha scowled, "Nearly? How charming."

Kristoff smiled and shook his head, massaging his temples. "You say you think you love me. Well let me tell you something, I know I love you." His tone grew fierce, "I am going to show you what real love means, and it's not this Natalia. It's not just this. I don't know what experiences you have had before but you might as well forget about them. You have never met a man like me."

Natasha simply stared at him completely derailed, "What?"

He came cautiously closer, one step at a time, "I am going to spend the rest of my life getting to know every detail about you, mental, spiritual and yes physical. I want to know it all. I want to protect you, even if that means from yourself."

"You're crazy!"

"Maybe. But I won't just take you to bed with me. What would that tell you? That I'm like every other guy out there ready to use you. I won't be that guy."

Natasha stared up at him, speechless. After years of the same routine, she had never imagined a man like this. Her eyes filled up with tears, partly because he had moved her, her heart altered in ways she didn't fully understand yet, but mostly she cried because sneaking up behind him were the Russian operatives, and there was no saving him now.