Sorry it's been so long! Here's a longer chapter to make up for it! I can't wait to hear what you think!

Steve sat quietly on the front steps of the Bartons home, his eyes staring unfocused at the ground, listening. He had made himself visible on purpose, certain that Natasha would arrive as quickly as possible, unable to bear even a second more of someone controlling her than was strictly necessary. And that was how she viewed him, he could feel it; an outside unwelcome force that had made itself a home in her head. He checked his necklace briefly, making sure his shield was still on. He could hear her thoughts as she approached, and for a moment, he was chilled. Her hatred for him had sunk into the marrow of her bones, it pushed her forward, his death the only barrier standing between her grief and her freedom. He had killed her family, he realized. Whether it was true or not, it was the reality she lived in. Steve took a deep breath to ease his nerves, he would have to remain calm if his plan was going to work. He resigned himself to wait for her arrival. All he needed was time near her, and maybe just maybe, she would begin to heal and come through her haze.

Steve knew the moment when Natasha saw him, her emotions hit him like a right hook. He felt her sizing him up, deciding what her plan would be. He looked around carefully, without giving away that he knew she was near, but could neither see nor hear any sign of her. She was every inch the super spy she was raised to be. He focused on her, their connection showing him her location. She was in the woods beyond the farmhouse. Good. That was where he needed her to be. His eyes swept the sky for Bucky's quinjet, he would need all the help he could get if he was going to capture Natasha without hurting her. He needed time for their connection to begin to heal her, and he had no idea just how much time that could take. He had to capture her. He felt Natasha shift to see him better, and felt a fresh wave of hatred roll over her. He shook his head, this wasn't going to be easy.

Hello Rogers.

Steve's head snapped up in shock. Natasha was speaking to him using their connection.

I know that you can hear me, and that any plan I make you will know ahead of time. I want to talk.

Steve hesitated, listening to her emotions. In place of the hatred, he now heard curiosity, doubt, and uncertainty. Had their connection worked so quickly? He paused only briefly before turning off his shield.

Natasha?

He felt her stiffen in a brief moment of panic, but she smoothed it away.

Steve. She paused, hesitating. I have questions.

Hope blossomed in Steve's chest, Ok. Let's talk.

Steve could almost feel her shake her head, Not there. I want you where I can see you clearly. Come to the edge of the trees.

How do I know you won't suddenly change your mind and just shoot me?

You don't.

Steve grimaced, but stood and walked slowly toward the treeline, wary of any sudden motion or emotion coming from Natasha. When he had entered the forest a ways he heard her again.

Stop, don't come any closer.

Steve peered through the trees but still couldn't see her, his sense of her telling him only that she was nearby. He reached out to her with his words, What did you want to ask me? She paused before responding.

Have you ever watched your family murdered before your eyes?

Steve was filled with dread, this had been a mistake. He moved to go back the way he came but a sudden flood of anguish made him clutch his chest and fall to his knees.

It feels like this.

Natasha waited a moment, observing him as he struggled before she continued.

Have you ever had your home, your mentors, your friends, all go up in flames?

Images of the Red Room set ablaze, and all its inhabitants locked inside as it burned flashed before Steve's eyes. He redoubled, the pain of it clouding his mind, consuming him. He reached desperately for his shield, and shut it off.

"I have."

Steve looked up from where he crouched to see Natasha, fury written all over her face. She caught him squarely in the jaw with a right hook, followed by a vicious kick to his face. Steve fell hard on his back, his nose and lip bleeding profusely. She was on him in a moment, her knee digging into his chest, her hands at his throat.

Steve looked into her eyes and saw their hardness. They glinted in the daylight, impenetrable where once they had been open for him. He struggled to breathe as she cut off his air, slowly suffocating him.

"Fight," she hissed at him, "Fight and show me what you're made of." Steve just continued to gaze at her, taking in her gaunt face, the rings under her eyes and the sallow color of her skin. Her body told the truth even when she couldn't, she had been horribly treated. Steve's vision began to blur for lack of oxygen, but Natasha released him, and he quickly rolled to his side, gasping. Natasha kicked him hard in the stomach.

"How did you do it?"

Steve coughed and wheezed, "Do what?"

She leaned in close to his face, her voice low as if afraid she would be overheard, "How did you make me fall for you? How do you still have a hold on me now?"

Steve met her eyes and shook his head, "Natasha, no one can make you do anything you don't want to do."

Natasha grabbed the collar of his shirt, leaning in angrily, "Stop evading the question. How did you do it?"

Steve simply looked at her with a sad smile and shrugged, "I fell for you first."

Natasha stared at him, multiple emotions warring in her, flickering one after another across her face. She stood and stepped quickly away from him, her hands pressed to her temples. Her head was pulsing, she felt so many contradictory emotions, her memories warring and conflicting with each other like a tornado tearing through her mind. Steve could feel her confusion and anger building and knew that his time was running out. He sat up cautiously, never taking his eyes off her. He desperately needed more time. He felt a pang of guilt for what he was about to do, but shoved it away. Reaching out quickly, Steve seized an all but invisible wire that he and Clint had rigged before he left, and an electrified net fell heavily from the trees above. Natasha's eyes snapped up as it came and she dove away from it, managing to clear her upper body from the trap, but the net tangled around her legs, the electricity jolting up her body as she came crashing to the ground. Her back arched and her limbs shook until Steve flipped a switch on a remote in his hand that turned it off. Natasha lay there immobile and unconscious, blood trickling down her cheek from where her head had struck the ground. Steve rushed to her side and cleared the net from around her legs, cradling her in his arms. "I'm so sorry Nat. I'm so sorry." He pressed her close, willing the serum in their bodies to reconnect, to heal her mind and end their separation. He turned off his shield and listened, but her mind was blank, even as she began to stir.

I love you Natasha. I'm sorry for everything. I'm going to make this right.

Steve?

Natasha's voice in his head startled him, and he pulled away to look at her. Her green eyes were open and steadily boring into his own. Natasha glanced over at the net, and then back at him. Her arm slid about his waist as she watched him. Steve didn't recognize her emotions until it was too late. A feeling of betrayal surged through him from her, but also a sense of relief. She knew the truth now.

Stop. Lying.

With what seemed to Steve like one twitch of her hand, Natasha sunk a blade deep into Steve's shoulder. Steve blanched, staring wide eyed at the blade, now hilt deep in his own skin. Natasha struggled free from his embrace, looking at him incredulously. "You're even more psychotic than I thought! You convince me you love me, attack me, then free me and hold me like you love me again? Make up your goddamn mind!"

"Natasha wait-"

"No enough. No more words."

"Wh-what are you doing?" Steve asked, his words slightly slurring. He struggled to sit up but found he couldn't. Natasha refused to look at him, "My mission." She applied the tourniquet to his arm none too gently and prepared to take his blood.

As fire started racing through his veins Steve's breathing started to spike, and he realized just how short his time was. His limbs were incredibly heavy, and he struggled against the weight. Using all his willpower Steve wrenched his uninjured arm up and seized Natasha's wrist.

"Nat, this isn't who you are anymore." Natasha tried brush him off but Steve held on for dear life. "You know I'm telling the truth." He placed her palm against his cheek and tried to hold it there, but she slapped him soundly in the face in response, leaping to her feet out of his reach, her eyes wild.

Steve smarted, but pressed on, "You love me. You told me so yourself. Why would I lie at this point? I know the blade is poisoned, I know I can't survive it." Steve watched as Natasha frowned and rubbed her forehead. She shook her head slightly as if trying to clear it, her expression puzzled. He pressed on, "Think about it Natasha, you haven't felt yourself since you woke up from your injury have you? It hasn't been quite right. Natasha, look at me, please." Natasha finally glanced over at him, meeting his eyes and was arrested by something in his face. Steve saw her hesitation and smiled in spite of the pain. His voice belied the effort it was taking him to remain conscious, "Nat, when you overcome this, and I know you will, I want you to do something for me."

"What?" Natasha asked in spite of herself. Steve struggled for air, the poison taking his lungs. He shuddered, and Natasha suddenly felt sick to her stomach, dread pouring through her like a nauseating medicine.

"Forgive yourself." And just like that, the world clicked back into place.

Natasha blinked, "Steve?" His eyes were open, blue and unseeing. She stood quickly, staring down at him in horror, the noise of her mind suddenly muted. As if in slow motion, and without knowing why she did it, she reached out and pulled the knife from Steve's shoulder. She stared at him, as if expecting for him to wake now that she had removed it. She lifted the knife sluggishly before her own eyes, the blade red now instead of silver. The world was in half speed, each rapid breath seemed to take three full seconds. Her eyes moved from her blade to Steve's chest, now bleeding freely, but the information she already knew refused to compute. A sound behind her registered but she did not turn, not even when the impact hit her shoulder blade. It threw her forward over Steve's body, Natasha had only blinked once before she found herself face to face with him, her hands slipping in his blood, pressed by gravity to his chest. Some part of her mind informed her, You've been shot. Out of habit, she turned her head to locate the shooter. Standing above her, his face burning like an avenging angel, stood Bucky Barnes. She sighed in relief, it would be over soon. She let her eyes fall from Bucky to her hands, sticky with blood, and felt his gaze follow hers. Meeting his eyes she saw him tremble with rage, his weapon pointed point blank at her chest. Natasha turned further to face him, to make it easier. Bucky looked at Steve, his gun staying with her. He spoke but Natasha couldn't make out his words, she simply stared at Bucky, waiting for him to end her pain. He gazed back at her, his finger only a hair's breadth from releasing the trigger. Natasha closed her eyes, finding Steve's hand and clutching it.

Any moment now, and we will be together.

But the silence dragged on, and Natasha trembled in expectation of the impact. Tears sprung into her eyes in her desperation and she screamed at Bucky, "Do it!" She looked up at him fiercely, "Bucky do it!"

Bucky's expression had changed to one of realization and grief, his dark eyes met her green ones, connecting with her on a deeper level. He looked pained.

"You're back aren't you? He got to you."

Natasha stared back unblinking, "Please. Please end this."

Bucky hesitated, gritting his teeth against his grief, then shook his head, lowering his weapon, "I was supposed to be here to help. I came as fast as I could but you…" He looked at her, his grief and anger warring with something stronger. Anguished lined Natasha's face as she looked at Bucky.

"Please," she said with effort, "Just do it. I know you want to. I deserve it."

Bucky raised his weapon again, pointing it at her and she met his gaze levelly. She nodded. She saw his eyes flicker to Steve and then back to her, his hands shaking with rage. With a roar, Bucky pulled the trigger, emptying his magazine into the tree behind her. Natasha shook with adrenaline, her fingers wrapped tightly in Steves, her eyes shut. When she opened them, Bucky was staring solemnly at her,

"That's not what he would have wanted."

Natasha leapt at Bucky, desperately trying to provoke him. But Bucky just blocked her attacks until he caught her by the arms and flung her to the ground.

"If it were up to me I would kill you for what you did. But I did terrible things under mind control, and Steve spared me. He wouldn't want this. Stay down." Bucky paced back and forth, looking from Natasha to Steve.

Her tears came then, uncontrollable and ugly. She stumbled back to Steve and curled herself into his side. Her fingers found his face, and she held it in her hands, "Steve please," she choked, "Please don't leave me. Please don't make me survive this without you."

Bucky knelt beside his friend, brushing her aside and checking quickly for a pulse. "What did you do to him?"

Natasha didn't look at him as she answered, "I stabbed him," she choked on her grief as the full realization of what she had done hit her, "Oh God, I stabbed him with a widows blade!"

Bucky peeled her off of Steve and seized her by the shoulders, "Poison? What kind? Why poison him when you could have just shot him?" Natasha shuddered and Bucky gave her a shake, "Answer me! It could be important."

Natasha paused, remembering, sorting through the wreckage of the memories that had been planted versus those that were real.. Her eyes widened, "Bucky. It's poison, but it has an antidote! They used it on me when Steve-" she shook her head, "No, when Darya stabbed me."

She looked at him, red rimmed eyes wild with hope, "Oh my God." She yanked herself free from him and pressed her fingers deep into Steves neck. There, so faint as to almost be nonexistent, was a pulse.

"He's alive…" The words were barely audible as they fell from her lips. She turned quickly to Bucky, "We have to get that antidote! Within the hour or he really will be gone!"

Bucky jumped to his feet, "Where can I find it?" Natasha tried to stand, but suddenly felt the bite of the gunshot wound in her back and fell heavily back to Steve's side. Bucky motioned her to be still, ripping off Steves shirt and packing it into the wound in his chest. "You have to stay and guard his body." Natasha bit her lip but nodded, not willing to waste precious minutes arguing. She put pressure on the makeshift bandage and waved Bucky away, "Go to where they took me, I assume you figured that out already?" Bucky nodded. "Good. It's not far from here. It will be in the lab. Find it, and come back as quickly as you can!" Bucky took off running in the direction of the Quinjet.

Natasha watched him go, feeling sick with anxiety. She turned to Steve and settled herself against his chest, doing the best she could to tend to the wound there. She bent and kissed his forehead, a tear rolling off her cheek and splashing onto his. "Hang on Steve," she whispered to him, "Just hang on a little while longer."

Gingerly she reached around to touch her back, wincing as she felt the warm flood of blood flow over her hand in response. Steve wasn't the only one who would have to fight to live. She wrapped her arms around Steve, trying desperately to hold on to the hope that was keeping her conscious. She could feel her mind rearranging itself, the memories flowing back into place. They were connected, she realized, but it wasn't a tool of manipulation. It was a gift. His shield is on, she realized suddenly. She fumbled at his neck to find the chain that hung there. She pressed the star, and felt the shield turn off.

Steve? Can you hear me? Steve you did it. You found me.

A feeling of deep contentment filled her, and then faded into silence. Her mouth went dry as she listened. "No Steve you have to keep fighting." She shook him slightly, "We're going to fix this, but you have to stay with me!" Still she heard nothing. She grabbed his face, patting his cheek slightly, "Wake UP!" Tears rolled down her face in torrents, the silence pressing in on her, panic pooling in her chest. She leaned down and kissed him, her lips pressing into his, her eyes clenched shut trying to hear anything, any response from his mind.

"Well isn't this a twisted turn of events."

Natasha jumped, drawing her pistol in an instant. Anka grinned at her, "I wouldn't pull the trigger on that, not if you really want him to live." Pure rage filled Natasha at the sight of her old teacher.

Anka shook her head, "The Russian prodigy falls for Americas hero and yet somehow you seem surprised that it didn't work out." She shook her head, but put her hands up when Natasha leveled the gun at her face. When she spoke her words were hushed and deadly,

"He is dying. And I blame you."

"There is hope for him. With me. There is no antidote at the old location. Why would we leave it behind after you so kindly warned us that the Avengers were coming? Thanks by the way."

"Go to Hell.."

"Listen to me Natalia, I can take him to the antidote. We want him alive anyway, you know I'm telling the truth. We can fight it out here, but let's be honest-" She whipped out two of her own handguns and pointed them at Natasha, "You won't win. You're injured, slower, and if you kill me, you'll have killed him, again." Anka smirked. Natasha's heart sunk. Anka pressed her advantage, "Don't fight me, drop your weapon. Steve doesn't have much time."

"You'll use him to make super soldiers."

"Yes."

Natasha's mind raced for an answer, but in vain. Her own desire for Steve to live warred with what she knew he would ask of her. Protect the people. Do the right thing. She gritted her teeth, her eyes dropping momentarily to Steve's face, her free hand curling into a fist, tangled in his shirt. Without warning, Natasha fired, the discharge of her double tap echoing in the woods. But Anka was no longer standing there. Natasha's head whirled around but too late, answering shots making themselves known, two bullets burying themselves into her back. Natasha collapsed over Steve's chest.