Natasha sat on the bed where Steve had been held as her team came in to clean up the mess they had made. Darya and Anka were loaded in the quinjet, made immobile by the Widows Venom. She stared down at her hands, exhausted physically, mentally, and emotionally. She registered Steve's voice as he spoke to the others, his voice sounding as tired as she felt, "Take the antidote. We need answers, get them secure and then give it to them."

She felt the bed lean slightly to her left as Steve sat down next to her.

"Nat…"

"So they will survive. After all this they still get to live."

Cautiously Steve took her hand. "You did the right thing. You set yourself apart from them."

Natasha looked up into Steve's face, about to respond. She halted her thoughts when she saw him. He looked awful, his face covered in blood. Absently he wiped at his temple with a handkerchief in an attempt to mop up the blood. She stopped his hand, tenderly taking it from him, and began to do it herself. Steve watched her without speaking, wincing slightly as she touched on a cut. "Sorry," she whispered. The word sounded absurd to her. Sorry. After all that had happened. Sorry. Her hands fell to her lap, her face crumpling and falling forward slowly until her forehead touched his chest. Steve wrapped his arms around her tightly, and she shuddered, pressing herself closer to him.

"Are you ok?" She whispered into his shoulder, "I thought I had…"

"You didn't." He squeezed her tightly, "I'm fine. And you? You remember… everything?"

Natasha didn't answer right away, but then nodded, her face pressing into the side of his neck.

Tony walked into the room and quietly witnessed their embrace. He nodded to Steve and motioned towards the door, "It's time to go. Let's get you both looked at."

They both stood slowly, Natasha supporting Steve as best she could, his loss of blood making him unsteady. As they left that place of nightmares behind, a lone soul watched in secret as they went, considering this turn of events thoughtfully...

Steve and Natasha spent the next three days recuperating, always together. Steve stayed in Natasha's room with her, not bothering to leave anymore, but pulling her in close, guarding her from the nightmares that she was certain were inevitable. That first night together they barely spoke. Once Steve had been seen by the doctor, they retreated to her room and slept, arms around each other, peaceful for the first time in what felt like months. The next day was spent much the same way. Natasha was clearly struggling to process, going quiet for hours at a time, but always staying near Steve. She held his hand, sat with his head in her lap, and occasionally dropped kisses on his forehead and cheek. Steve didn't push her or question her. They left their connection closed, each unwilling to relive the horrors of the last few days from the perspective of the other.

As they lay beside each other on the bed, Natasha stared up at the ceiling, focused on some far away memory, her fingers trailing up and down Steve's arm. Finally, she turned to her side, her cheek pressed into the pillow and looked at him. "Steve?" Steve lay on his back with his eyes shut, his hand resting on her hip. He opened his eyes in surprise and turned to look at her.

"I have questions. I was hoping you might be willing to… fill in some blanks."

Steve brushed the hair off of her face and tucked it behind her ear, "You sure you want to? We don't have to talk about it right away."

She nodded, sitting up in bed and looking cautiously at him. "I want…" She hesitated. "I need to see what I did." Her eyes lingered for a moment over his chest where she had stabbed him, then away.

Steve shook his head and took her hand, "There's no need. It's healed, no harm done. Natasha looked at him, "Steve. You know I have to see it." Steve sighed, distressed. "Nat.. I don't want you to feel…" He looked in her eyes and saw her resolve. She was not going to be happy until she had seen. Resigned, Steve peeled off his T-shirt and looked cautiously at Natasha. Her eyes flickered over his chest and rested on a shiny purple three inch scar that puckered over his left shoulder. Natasha's eyes widened, and her fingers brushed over the mark, soft as a butterfly.

"Steve…"

He pulled his shirt to his chest to hide the mark from her, "It's fine Natasha, it healed really quickly, as always."

"But it scarred! You don't have scars!"

"It will probably fade."

"Why didn't it heal completely?" Natasha's voice was hushed, "Why is the one injury I caused you the one that marked you?"

"I don't know Nat. I really don't." Seeing her devastated expression, Steve wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. "You didn't get out unscathed either," he said into her hair, "This isn't something that you did, this is something that happened to us. Nat… Show me the tattoo." Steve felt her tense in his arms, but waited for her to respond.

"I hate it," She said, not moving from his embrace, her voice heavy with bitterness.

"Show me," he whispered. Slowly she sat back, her eyes cast down. She tilted her chin up towards him and away, sliding her hair off her shoulder. She waited. Gently Steve slid her T-Shirt off her shoulder, sliding his finger along the neckline to reveal the crowned crimson hourglass inked there above her heart. Natasha watched his face warily from the corner of her eye, searching for any negative reaction. His eyes flickered over the mark, taking in every aspect of it. Suddenly a soft smile turned up the corner of his mouth.

Natasha frowned, "What could you possibly be smiling about?"

Steve touched the hourglass gently, sending goosebumps over Natasha's skin. He met her eyes, "I know they intended this to mark you as belonging to them, but you've gone and made it stand for something else." Natasha gave him a confused look. "No really," Steve said, looking again at the tattoo, "You are the only one with a mark like this, the crowned hourglass. They wanted it to mean that you were the first of your kind. I think that's still true."

Natasha pulled back from Steve, pulling her shirt back over her shoulder, "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that you made the decision on your own to be something other than what they raised you to be. You've done it twice now, once with Clint when he found you, and once with me."

Natasha gave him an incredulous look, "I'm still a killer Steve. I'm a child soldier turned assassin."

Steve nodded and shrugged, "You were. But I really believe that the only thing that matters are the choices you make today. Who are you starting today? Your actions tell a different story. The tattoo reminds me of that."

Natasha absently rubbed the spot on her shoulder where the tattoo was. She sighed and took his hands, "I suppose. I still hate it." She eyed his scar mournfully, "I wish things could just go back to the way they were before all of this." Her voice was hushed and her eyes grew glassy with unshed tears, "We were just starting to get things right." Steve's expression grew thoughtful, and then pained.

"Nat, you know what we have to do. We have to suck out the poison."

"What do you mean?"

Steve gestured to the chain around his neck and her bracelet, "We've let them close us off."

Natasha instantly felt sick. She slid off the bed and started to pace, agitated. Steve watched her for a moment before adding softly, "We were doing well before because we had finally started to be open. They've closed us off but we can get back to where we were before."

Natasha stopped to face him, "There are things that you will see that will make you angry." Steve thought of his treatment in the Red Room, the way he had completely lost his temper with Clint and Tony. He grimaced, "It will be the same for you. It will be painful for us both. But once it's done.." he shrugged. "We can talk things out, get past it."

"And will we? Get past it?"

Steve swing his legs over the side of the bed, leaning forward towards her. He let his eyes roam over her, his gaze took her in, head to toe. She stood perfectly still, her arms crossed, watching him. Steve pursed his lips and looked away, "I hate that you would ask that question."

Natasha dropped her hands, "Steve.."

"No I'm serious. What do you think? That we went through all of this together just to what? Give up?"

Natasha's voice raised, "No! But don't you think a sane man would quit while he's ahead? You survived me this time, but there's no guarantee about next time!" Her voice dropped again, "I wouldn't blame you Steve. I wouldn't be angry. I would genuinely understand."

Steve stood, angry now. "And is that what you want from me? We should just end it here and go our own way?" He pulled his shirt back on, turning his back to her.

Natasha stared at his back, at a loss as to how to respond. She felt defensive and angry, but over it all, she felt her heart starting to break. She knew that wherever he went, that's where a piece of her heart would be.

"I don't know."

Steve turned to face her at the tone of her voice, angry and broken all at once. He stared at her, and the expression on his face burned away her indecision. His blue eyes burned with pain and love and a vulnerability she hadn't seen before. Natasha couldn't bear it. She ran to him, crashing into his chest and into a kiss that nearly crushed her. Steve kissed her fiercely, his hands tangled into her hair, pressing her backwards until her back was against the wall. He pulled away from the kiss, his voice harsh and angry, "Tell me what you want."

And suddenly it was perfectly clear to her, the obstacles falling away, "You," she whispered, "I want you forever." Steve kissed her again hard, his fingertips tracing down her arms and around her waist. He pulled away again, "Say it again."

"Steve, I love you." He took her face in his hands, wiping away tears that rolled down her cheeks. "Again," he whispered, his eyes locked with hers, gentler now. Natasha held his gaze despite her desire to look away. She drowned in the blue of his eyes as she said once more, "I love you. Never leave me." He hugged her then, burying her in his arms, folded tightly against his chest."I don't want to survive you woman," he said, his hand going to the back of her head, "I want to live and die for you and with you, and kill anyone and anything that gets in the way of us." A fire burned in Natasha's chest at the sound of his words, and she shuddered and pulled him closer.

He shook slightly, dropping a kiss onto the top of her head. Without letting go, Steve reached for his necklace, and Natasha her bracelet, both wincing as they did, anticipating the onslaught of memories. Together, they turned their shields off.