Chapter Seventeen

Natasha

It has been a long day of training. I am exhausted. Getting the new team mates in shape is harder than I thought. Steve relies on me to work heavily with Wanda, as I know how to train her how to use her body and size, the advantages of being a woman. Honestly, I think I am wasting my time. If I could move things with my mind I don't think I would ever throw another punch. But the Cap gets what he wants.

Steve is in his element here. He thrives and I can't help but feel happiness for him in his relaxed demeanour.

I walk into the kitchen to make a protein shake. I walk around the island and pull the blender towards me. It's late. I had dropped Wanda off at her room earlier. We had gone on a run around the compound. She is a hard worker, very eager to prove herself, impress us, make up for what she had done. In some ways she reminds me of me. Trying so hard to pay back a debt, but then when I look at her, I realize she already paid that debt, twice over. She paid the worst price. She lost her twin.

I look at the pre-measured baggies of fruit and decide on strawberry, banana and mango and kick the freezer shut. Not everything has to be Kale 100% of the time, no matter what Tony says. Tony really has turned this into an escape more than anything. A safe haven for all us lost souls.

"Fancy seeing you here." I look over and see Steve walking up to the counter.

I roll my eyes, "Yeah fancy that." I glance at the clock. It was late. After I left Wanda at her room I went to the gym and trained with a punch bag for a while. I find the more tired I am when I do eventually go to bed the better my chances are of actually sleeping. "Isn't it a little late for a senior citizen to be up?" I tease him, smiling from under my lashes.

He rolls his eyes opening the fridge and getting out a bottle of water. "Haha, very funny. You just kill me." He leans back against the counter just a few feet over from me. I smile at him out of the corner of my eye.

"Seriously, you get caught up having an existential conversation with Vision? Because there is no easy escape plan when that happens."

He laughs, and it's like a balm. Like lying in the sunlight after being trapped in a down pour. I find myself staring at him, he looks at me smiling, "No, I went with Sam to his VA meeting."

My eyebrows go up and I find the mention of a serious conversation makes me feel uncomfortable, "He's still doing that?" I ask surprised. "I thought when he left D.C…. "

Steve shook his head, "Naw, he just transferred VA's, goes in when he can." He shrugs.

I glance at him raising an eyebrow, "You still go with him?"

He shrugs, "Sometimes,"

"Does it help?" Not that there is a support group for ex-militarized brain-washed assassin's but still. I am curious about his response.

He looks down, brow furrowed, "Some nights, some nights it really helps." He looks up at me and his eyes look so vulnerable, "Some times I just shake my head, wondering why I am there. I feel so far removed from the soldier I wanted to be..." He trails off.

"It's hard to relate?" I finish the sentence for him.

He looks at me, "Yeah, like there is no perspective."

I nod, hitting the button on the blender. We stand silently. Suddenly, a glass appears on the counter and I look at Steve as he hands it to me. I turn off the blender. "Thanks," I say, "Want some?"

"Are you kidding? No thanks,"

"What? Why not? Protein is good for you." I scoff.

He rolls his eyes, "If you made it, it'll be too sweet."

"What?" I ask looking at him, brow furrowed, "It's a smoothie." I shrug.

He shakes his head, face very serious, "I am sorry Romanoff, doesn't matter. You have a serious problem with sugar."

"I do not." I scoff, pretending offense.

"You do. It needs to be said. You have a disturbing sweet tooth problem." He says as he walks around to sit at the kitchen table. He pulls out a chair for me before I even make the choice to sit with him. But of course, I do.

I sit beside him, furrowing my brow, "I'm not that bad." Pulling my legs up under me to sit cross legged, as he lounges back, dropping his arm over the back of his chair.

He looks at me, "How many sugars do you put in your coffee?" he asks as he sips his water bottle.

I shrug, "Oh who keeps track of-"

"Five," He says without blinking. I look up at him. He's right, "You put in five heaping spoonfuls. I am half convinced your teeth are dentures, because how they haven't rotted out of your head…. it's a medical miracle."

"Ugh!" I scoff at him, shaking my head, trying not to think about the fact that he even knows that about me. "Well, maybe I need the added help maintaining this demur, sweet demeanour you all seem to appreciate so much."

"Meh," I smack him on the shoulder, "Hey! Ok, ok, I kid!" He snaps, holding his hands up leaning forward on the table laughing. He meets my eye and I smile back at him.

It seems just like this perfect little moment in time, that I don't ever really want to end. Just sitting here with him, smiling, laughing. It was so nice.

"Nat," He pulls his chair closer to me and I feel the window on our moment slowly closing. Reality closing in. "I'm sorry for how everything ended up."

He looks at the table, not meeting my eye. Oh god, he's talking about Banner. I purposefully spend a lot of time everyday trying not to talk or think about Bruce. Least of all, in any association with Steve. Steve talking about it, him, god, I would rather my head explode. "Oh, nothing you need to worry your pretty little head over." I say feeling my walls coming up out of instinct.

I stand up quickly, pushing my chair back. I want to leave, end this conversation. The last thing I want is Steve empathizing with me over lost love. God. The one person who I stupidly thought could possibly have maybe loved me, leaves me. The last person I want to discuss that with is Steve. The man I want to love me but never could. Oh god and what if he brings up his infamous lost love from the forties? Ugh. Great. Another reminder of the kind of woman he should be with… deserves to be with. A.K.A. not me.

He stands up to, "No Nat, wait." I am fast, but damn his superhuman body, he is faster and has his hand on my arm before I get a chance. I stop a take a deep breath, my eyes staying focused on the ground, "Please- just... I'm sorry."

My head snaps up to look at him, shaking my head, "Why should you be sorry?" I ask caught of guard by the ridiculousness of his statement.

He closes his eyes, shifting his weight from one foot to another. He looks so conflicted, what was going on? "I was the one who told Banner to get you outta there. And then he-" His jaw flexes... Like he's mad. He looks down at me, "I'm sorry Nat. You deserved better."

I look up at him, "I don't understand- You sent Bruce-" I am all turned around by his logic. I have no idea why on earth he would think tasking Bruce with coming to get me out of Ultron's hideout in Sokovia had anything to do Bruce leaving after everything… It doesn't make sense.

Steve shakes his head, "I sent Banner into get you. To make sure you were ok, after Ultron took you. I wanted him to get you and get clear. Of everything." I listened to his words feeling like the very ground under my feet was shifting, but maybe I am only hearing what I wanted to. Steve looks at me, his eyes… "I never thought he would hurt you." He said.

I look at his face, he's so upset. I look away from his eyes, anywhere other than at him, his sympathetic eyes. Ugh, it was like torture. "Well, that makes two of us." I shake my head, crossing my arms over my chest. "It's not your fault Steve." I smirk up at him, "Shockingly, not everything is your fault."

"Yeah but it shoulda been me. I shoulda been the one to get you out."

I look at him, confused, "Oh yeah? How do you figure that?" He is just being ridiculous. Steve just loves to bring everyone else's problems down on his own head. I put my hands on my hips and glared at him.

"Because, I -" He stops mid sentence. His eyes are searching mine. He nods, "Because. It was my call." I look at him. He is such a … hero. There isn't any easier way to put it. His brow furrows. "I- I do have a question..." He shakes his head, staring back at the table top.

"What is it?" I ask.

"How did you end up in the city again? I told Banner… I asked him, to get you out, out of Sokovia and yet… there you were."

I look at him, "Well, we were going to just go but-" I stop realizing the implications of what I am about to say. I look at Steve who is watching me intently. We could have left, just disappeared. A fresh start for both of us, but then the city started to fly. And I knew what was at risk, the team, the world…. Steve. Steve floating up away from me. Did I sacrifice Bruce for Steve? I feel sick because I never let myself think about it. But I realize that Steve is still waiting for me to answer, "The city started to fly so we re-evaluated." I say simply.

He nodded, like that was all he needed to know. Like he has faith that I wouldn't have some terrible alternative, selfish motive. "I'm sorry, it didn't work out for you two."

I shrug, "Can't have it all." I look back up to him and can't help but think, 'No, matter how much we want it.' But instead I smile up at him, falling back onto familiar ground, a skin I can slip into. The invincible Black Widow, "Besides," I say in a particularly seductively mocking voice, "I've got you to pick up the pieces right?" I raise an eyebrow at him.

I expect him to laugh it off, the way we always are together. Except I realize, in that infinitesimal moment that we haven't been us in a while. Not like we used to be. We haven't joked in a…like this in a while. And once again I realize I miss something that I hadn't realized I had until it was already gone. I thought being friends with him was a placation. A balm for not actually getting to be with him. But now, in trying to move on, I have put myself even further behind. My luck.

But as I am having my epiphany, Steve is just staring at me with this intense expression. No laugh, no 'Same old Nat'. Just looking at me. I clear my throat, caught off guard.

God, why does he have to make me feel so self aware, like I am never making the right choices? This would be so much easier if I didn't care what he thought of me, but then that would mean life would have to be fair. "You know I was just joking-" I find myself saying unable to handle his silence. My shell cracking. I am all shook up and uncomfortable. Maybe Banner had more of an effect than I realized.

"I would." He interrupts me.

I swallow back the rest of my rambling sentence and look up at him. "Sorry?"

"I would help you pick up the pieces." He stares into my eyes and I find myself absolutely speechless, "Always."

He takes a deep breath and looks at me and I seem to be frozen. I literally cannot move, like I am having an out of body experience. "Goodnight Natasha, " He goes to walk by me but stops at my side, and ever so gently he leans forward and just lightly kisses me on my forehead, just above my right eyebrow.

I feel like my every nerve is shivering. Like I can't possibly even breath or blink or move even. If I turn my head just the tiniest bit, my lips would be on his….

But I don't. Because I am terrified of what will happen if I do. And he turns and walks away from me and I find that through all of this, I am still just a coward.