"Hey. Are you okay?" Steve asked quietly, crouching down next to Natasha, who was currently sitting on the grass next to one of the more secluded lakes in the grounds of the base, knees tucked up to her chest.
"Yeah." She replied, not turning to look at him, instead keeping her gaze on the water.
They sat side by side in comfortable silence for a few minutes until Natasha laid a cheek on her knee, tilting her head to face Steve. "Didn't know you knew about this place?"
"Well," he answered lightly, casually clasping his wrists around his shins, "I do normally have my own pond, but I gotta say, yours does have the better view."
They both looked up to watch a small group of ducklings bump about the edge, trying to get themselves in order to follow their mother. Eventually they managed it, save the one at the back who continued happily splashing about and had to paddle frantically to catch up when they realised their family had glided off. Steve let out a soft laugh.
"What brings you all the way out here?" There was quiet note of concern in his voice, mixed in with the curiosity. He knew Natasha was a lone wolf, and it was not uncommon for her to disappear, but he didn't expect to find her relaxing in a quiet, tucked away corner of the woodland. He'd never given much thought as to what exactly she did when she went off, he just assumed like most of her other pursuits it would have involved some display of her near heart attack-inducing abilities that he found equally fascinating and terrifying to watch. He also noticed that she had a Thermos, a book and a small suitcase-like box with her, so she clearly hadn't wandered out here spontaneously.
"Just the peace and quiet. I find it all a little overwhelming in there sometimes." She waved a hand over her shoulder in the general direction of the main buildings.
Steve raised his eyebrows and turned towards her, surprised that she struggled with anything. "I get you. Everything happens so fast these days, I can't keep up. It all took so much longer when I was growing up."
She nodded. "I come out here to do things at my own speed." She admitted quietly.
He regarded her again more closely. She was so incredibly adept at everything – could use any gadget set before her after only a couple of minutes of practise, was able to easily handle technology he was only just beginning to venture into. She adapted to her environments so well he always forgot they had grown up during the same time.
"You feeling your age grandma?" He gently quipped, nudging her shoulder with his.
She gave him a tiny half-hearted smile. Seeing that he had hit a tender spot he pulled away, hoping she would open up again.
"I just seem to have spent my whole life constantly on the go. Always having to be so many steps ahead of everyone. Like you said, you can do everything so quickly now. The stuff SHIELD has at their disposal. I've been there for it all. It's a long way from my early days." She said it softly, but with only a faint trace of nostalgia.
"It was all so tactile you know," he offered, "a map and compass, actual blue blueprints. I can hold more technology in my hand right now than I've used in my whole life up to this point, but I just cannot get my head around it when I can't see it working." He leant back, resting on his elbows, legs kicked out straight in front.
"The stuff I was first taught, when I was really little. It seems so archaic now. The types of engines we'd pull apart, or the radio equipment we'd tamper with. The ways to send coded messages." Natasha shook her head, laughing slightly. "I mean, Russia's early attempts at rotor machines for gods sakes. I think I'd have rather gone into the war blind than be made to encrypt something with that."
"You took part in the war?" He asked, with some incredulity. He knew he was about ten years older than her – she must have been a kid.
"I was a child soldier Steve. I was made for the war."
He looked at her, then down to his lap. "Me too." He responded quietly after a brief pause, allowing his thoughts to wander to Dr Erskine. To Peggy. To Bucky.
They lapsed back into silence again, both pulled into their memories.
"Do you find it hard?" Steve asked at length. "Learning all this stuff?" He knew he struggled even with people making accommodations for his missing time and wondered how much help she had received with her own adjustment.
"Sometimes." She answered, leaning back to join him in reclining. "But I guess it's different to you. I've had it gradually – adapting to the new technology as it has come along. Communications equipment, weaponry, flight technology. I've had time to get used to it. And I was never given the option to not be able to understand it." She added. She was brilliant by brutal design.
"Can I ask you a question?" Steve said quietly, looking down before flicking his gaze to hers.
"Sure." She answered, hiding her uncertainty, not wanting to put him off what was clearly going to be a serious conversation.
"Did you know what you were getting into? That it would be like this? I mean, when it came to the serum, I chose to have it knowing that I would outlive everyone, see worlds come and go, but it felt right. I didn't think about it much then, but now having this much time to fill is a little daunting. A little lonely." He confessed.
Natasha kept silent for a long time, not moving. "I didn't know it was coming." She answered slowly, staring towards her feet. "I wasn't told what they were doing, or what it would do to me. To be honest, I don't think they really knew either, but it was the 1940s and they were panicking – looking to gain any kind of upper hand. After all, they'd seen you. I think they gave me the serum out of desperation, like when a dying animal makes a last ditch attempt at an offensive. But yes, it does get a little lonely." Her acknowledgement was softly spoken, and the brief moment of eye contact they made was enough to convey the kinship of sharing something almost unique.
"I'm sorry. If it wasn't for me, this wouldn't have happened to you."
She shrugged. "Don't be Rogers. At least we have each other." This time she smirked and gave his shoulder a bump, trying to lighten the mood – she hadn't meant to make him feel bad. "Here." She reached over to the little red case, passing it to him by the handle.
He took it, as a gesture of peace, knowing she hadn't meant any harm. He knew what the case was, but still groaned with delight when he flicked open the lid to reveal a pristine 1950s Dansette record player. He ran gentle fingers over the tonearm and table.
"Where did you get this?" He asked in a hushed whisper, eyes raking over every inch of it.
Natasha kicked herself back upright, sitting crossed legged, pleased Steve seemed to share her sentimentality.
"I was sent on a long-term job in the mid to late-fifties. They'd set me up with an apartment, tried to furnish it to make me look like a regular civilian. After a couple of months I felt like there was something missing but didn't know what it was, and then I spotted that in a shop window. Cost me an absolute fortune. I couldn't afford to eat properly for weeks. We were inseparable." She smiled bashfully. "Every night I was able to stay in the apartment I'd cycle through the three records I had, sometimes dancing, sometimes just listening to the crackle. I'd never had my own possessions before and it felt so special having something that was mine." She reached out a hand to touch the case. "When I heard they were coming to extract me I hid it under the floorboards. I was forbidden from having personal belongings at headquarters, so I knew if they saw it they'd destroy it." She glanced at Steve, who was staring at her in sympathetic fascination. "I know it sounds soft but decades later when I finally got away it was basically the first thing I went looking for. How pathetic is that? Some sixty-odd year old woman and her only connection was to a record player."
"Well, she is quite the beauty." Steve teased good naturedly.
She pulled a couple of 7-inch sleeves from the pages of her book. "Here. Take your pick. I have more in my room." She held them out to Steve. "I've adapted it a bit so it will play out here." He fanned through the selection. Swan Lake, obviously, he thought, smiling softly. Fleetwood Mac – Dreams, he quirked his lips, but ultimately unsurprised at her good taste. The Clash – London Calling. He laughed, imagining Natasha listening to the angry beat, acting like teenage revolutionary.
She looked over at him. "I like the classics. It's mostly from the 70s and later though, I was a bit busy during the early stages of the Cold War to dedicate time to my musical education." She deadpanned.
"That war too?"
She arched a brow. "I'm a KGB spy Steve."
"Fair point. Do you mind?" He asked, holding up a sleeve.
She nodded towards the player, then watched him delicately pull out the vinyl, slip it over the spindle and drop the needle, both sighing as the distinctive scratch and crackle sounded before the track began. Satisfied, Steve lay back down and Natasha joined him, folding her hands behind her head. They lay there comfortably together in the soft grass, listening to the world spin at their own speed.