Chapter Twenty-Nine

Natasha

Four Years Ago

I see him in my peripheral vision. Watching me. I see when he turns around to come towards me, and I find myself losing focus on drying my hair. I remember his arms around me as the rubble tumbled down on to us, I remember his arms holding me tightly, his body being banged into mine as he crouched over me, feeling him pick me up, before passing out….

He stands in the doorway of the en suite bathroom and looks at me with concern, "You ok?"

"Yeah," I say trying my best to sound casual. But I watch as he throws down the towel and comes towards me.

He sits across from me and fixes his big blues on me and I feel like they may as well be x-rays, "What's going on?" He asks me simply. As if touching base on our emotional well being is the status quo of our relationship. And I can't help but be slightly confused as to why he is even bothering to ask.

But I find myself wanting to tell him, which is terrifying and liberating all at the same time. Even more terrifying I find myself actually telling him what's wrong, "When I first joined S.H.I.E.L.D. I thought I was going straight." The words made me feel sick, my new reality made me feel sick. I look away from him, unable to believe this new landscape I found myself to be apart of. Except it isn't a new landscape, not really. I look back at him, almost to challenge him to argue with me, "I guess I just traded in the KGB for HYRDA." I suddenly feel tired. And I find myself looking away because even with my best effort I can't keep my front up, not now, not with him. "I thought I knew who's lies I was telling." I glance at him, "Guess I can't tell the difference any more."

"There is a chance you might be in the wrong business." I can't help but look at Steve, surprised by his use of my own words against me.

I let out a breath and I find myself looking back into his eyes, getting lost in them and he simply looks back into mine. Like he isn't appalled by what he sees, like he isn't terrified of what lurks behind them. "I owe you,"

He shakes his head, like I am offering to pay for lunch, "It's okay," He says, almost as if he wants to scoff.

But I feel myself tense at his attitude, because it isn't. It isn't ok. It is a big deal. He saved my life. That would of course be a big deal to me, and I want him to know that. That I don't take it lightly.

"If it was the other way around, and it was down to me to save your life," I hold his eyes. "And you be honest with me." And I breath out the question I am both excited and afraid of the answer for, "Would you trust me to do it?"

And he doesn't even hesitate to answer, like there is no doubt in his mind, "I would now."

I am haunted by this moment in time. It seems to take my breath away when I am least expecting it. Even now, in the middle of dance class. As my body moves, I can see Steve sitting across from me, clear as day, his blue eyes in the morning sunlight, the pull of his rare smile. It seems like a lifetime ago.

A lot of things haunt me now. Tony's last words to me ring in my ears usually following the memory of Steve.

"Boy, it must be hard to shake the double agent thing huh? Really, sticks in the DNA."

But when it comes down to it, I don't regret anything I did. I regret not opening my eyes sooner. I regret not realizing I wasn't making the right choice. I regret not telling him I would follow him anywhere after her funeral….

But I did help.

When it came down to it, I did have his back, and no matter what I wouldn't regret that. Even is my life now was somewhat unrecognizable.

I allowed myself to disappear after I left the Avengers compound. Or I should say, I wanted to disappear. I didn't want to be aware of who I was anymore, every decision I made. I wanted to be removed from a life where I was constantly thinking about where he was, if he was safe or not. But who was I kidding, I could run for the rest of my life, circle the globe five times and still not accomplish that.

But I did decide to hide in plain sight. It was really the best and easiest option. Try not to over complicate things. So I came back to New York and lost myself in Manhattan.

"Good class Nancy," The teacher smiles at me, calling me by my new alias, as we collect our belongings at the end of the ballet class. "You're a natural,"

I smile to myself, "Thanks,"

"Wish I could get you in some of my performance pieces, you would kill on stage."

I shake my head, the blonde of my new hair catching my eye, from where it is tied in it's ponytail. A surprisingly hard adjustment, "Thanks Jackie but no thanks, just do this to keep the demons away."

She shakes her head and laughs, "You kill me, Nance," She shrugs, I cringe at how often she uses the word 'kill' as a positive descriptive. She has no idea... "Well if you change your mind…:"

I lift my bag onto my shoulder and leave the class. This is the last one I will come too. The teacher is paying me too much attention now. Shame, it was a nice excuse to get out of the house.

I take the stairs instead of the rickety ancient elevator, and as I descend I try and take deep breaths to steady my nerves. I had been here for nearly four weeks now, it was too long. I needed to leave New York behind, but I couldn't seem to bring myself to it. I didn't want to leave here. It felt too final.

But ultimately, I don't know what to do. I feel like I am almost trapped, spinning my wheels. which frightens me more than anything, because it has never happened to me before. I have always known what to do next, but now. Now I found myself…. Stuck.

I hit the lobby and walk out into the evening air. It was a cool day, and had been overcast for most of it. It really felt like fall, like the clouds could open up and rain could just pour down on us.

I glance up at the cold grey sky, the grey clouds no longer looking fluffy but menacing, with dark grey underbellies. I looked down zipping up my hoody against the cool breeze and march down the stairs ready for the walk to subway but the voice stops me dead.

"Hey there,"

I freeze, because I don't need to move or look or hear him again to know it's him. I look up and there he is, there is Steve looking at me from under a low baseball cap. And I stand there like a statue. He is leaning against a motorcycle parked right in front of the building.

He had stubble on his jawline, like he hadn't been shaving, and his hair looked a little longer under the ball cap he was wearing. I feel like I can't breath while I look at him, like my lungs are simply going to burst. Because I hadn't really allowed myself to realise, until he was there right in front of me again, how scared I was that I would never see him again. But here he was. Looking at me with his eyes, a smile barely on his lips, like he is taking in everything I do, everything my body is telling him about his sudden appearence in my world.

"You're a hard woman to find." He says still looking up at me, standing up from the bike.

I smile taking a deep breath, and walk down the stairs towards him, "Didn't realise anyone was looking." I stop on the sidewalk right in front of him.

He squints at me, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth, "You should know better."

I shake my head, because I don't know what else to say in response to that. Not without losing my calm facade, "What are you doing here?" I ask shaking my head, glancing up at him from under my lashes.

He looks up and down the street, "Do you have somewhere we can talk?" He fixes me with an intense gaze and I smile nodding.

"Yeah," I take a deep breath.

"Come on," He hands me a helmet from the back of the bike before getting on it. I take a deep breath before getting on the bike behind him. I pull the helmet down over my head and lean forward wrapping my arms around his body as Steve kicked the bike to life beneath us. "Where to?" He asks over his shoulder.

I can't' help but chuckle, "Do you think you can remember your way to Brooklyn?"

I feel him chuckle under my arms, I feel the laugher deep in his chest, hidden deep like a gem. "I think I can,"

He follows me up the stairs of the sixth story walk up. I hesitate as the door down the hall from mine opens, unsure of what I am expecting but it would seem that having Steve just a few feet from me again makes me afraid that CIA agents are going to come pouring out but they don't. Instead my seventy year old neighbour looks out her door.

"Oh Nancy dear, it's just you. And a friend?" The woman was addicted to gossip.

"Yes Mrs. Galafanakis," I smile at her but keep moving past her doorway. The mistake was to stop, then she would never stop talking.

"Nice friend," Mrs. Galafanakis said gleefully smiling up at Steve like she was a school girl.

I feel myself blush to my immense irritation and find myself not able to look at Steve, instead I focus on the ancient, well worn art deco tiles under my feet. But somehow I know exactly what he looks like, smiling all bashfully at his feet, slight blush dusting over his cheek bones. Good lord, I am such a lost cause.

I sigh, making a mental note to get ready to move. Sure, Mrs. Galafanakis' television habits are limited to day time soap operas but the chances of her recognizing Steve were high, even with his cave man stubble. Then it would be a short hop, skip and a jump before she figured out who 'Nancy' really was. Ugh, moving. Part and parcel though.

We make it to the door, and I quickly unlock it and step through, letting Steve follow me in.

It seemed odd, out of place to have Steve in my little hideout apartment, like he wasn't meant to fit with the steampunk light fixtures and exposed brick. But yet as I watch him walk into the small one room flat and look around, I find myself noticing how at home he does still manage to look. Like he could fit into this fake life I created for myself. But I shake my head because that isn't what is going to happen.

He looks at me suddenly from in the kitchen and catches me watching him, and I feel that lingering blush creeping up the back of my neck again and I clear my throat, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. "Nancy, huh?" He asks casually leaning back against the stove.

I shrug, "Easier to stay with names that have the first letter of your real first name. Easier to respond to." I blink, realising I am rambling. He isn't here to learn the basics of being a double agent. I take a deep breath, shaking my head before looking at him and I can't help the smile that pulls at my lips when I look at him. "What are you doing here Steve?" I ask. I want to know. Without a shadow of a doubt.

Steve stands up from the stove and takes the small step that is needed to come to stand against my little island counter, his hands rest on the counter, stretching out. "You didn't come with us." He meets my eyes shrugging. His eyes search mine, looking for an answer? I don't know anymore whether I am even able to look at him objectively. Since standing on that tarmac in that hanger I feel like the only thing I can honestly see in Steve is the hurricane of my own emotion. No more boxes that fit. Tony was wrong, I couldn't do it any more, be a double agent. Not well anymore, these idiots all burrowed their way into my soul, who I am and what I want, I don't have my clarity any more. No one fits in a box anymore, let alone Steve. Steve's boxes exploded.

I shake my head, trying to just hear his words, bias free, the only longing I hear in his voice is from my own desperate projections. "You didn't need me to come with you." I walk into the apartment and drop my bag onto the arm chair I have in the living room, unzipping my hoody and leaning back onto one foot.

Steve stands up from leaning on the counter, to fix me with his gaze, lock onto my eyes, as if not allowing my darting gaze to flit away uncomfortably. Funnily enough, even as exposed as I felt having him look into my eyes, it wasn't uncomfortable, because I knew I trusted him, I always had, "I need you with me Nat," It was like being splashed with cold water, as he crossed his arms over his chest as he shrugged "When you aren't by my side, nothing goes right. I need you." I simply stare back up at him, feeling my brow pulling together, "I needed you then and you still had my back." Slowly, he walked out from behind the kitchen counter to come and stand in the middle of the room, "I need you on my side, by my side."

I step away from him and turn around, unable to face whatever it is Steve is or isn't trying to tell me, it won't seem to compute in my mind. "I should have done more. I shouldn't have…"

I briskly walk past him only to stop at the kitchen's island but I feel Steve turning, following close behind me, and he is talking before I even know where I am going, "You don't have to make excuses for your decisions Nat, I understand." I feel his hand on my arm and my whole body tenses, as flight or fright instincts rush through my body. I try to tamp them down, it's just Steve. We have been in situations like this before. But he has never said things like this exactly to me before but I shake my head, he is speaking professionally of course. But then his tone doesn't seem professional. but I don't know any more. I turn to face him and am still caught off guard by just how close he is to me, only a couple of inches away from me, looking down at me, his eyes dark and stormy. "You don't have to apologize to me, you know that right?"

But I do because Steve... he is my everything. I hold his eyes and think back to asking him to dinner, what, only a blink of an eye ago? So much seems to have changed and shifted since then. I feel like we are on a totally different plane now. I bit my lower lip holding his eyes before finding words, "I wanted to look after you." I say quietly, his brow clears and I find the fear flare in my chest, "Everyone," I shake my head, "I wanted to keep us safe... and on the right side."

His hand finds my arm again and I feel his finger tips trace up my arm, through my black hoody as they find their way to my shoulder where he lets his hand rest and it feels like it weights 100 pounds at the same time it shoots electricity through my body. "I know why you did it," He says simply.

My brow furrows again as I stare up at him and cross my arms over my chest, "Do you?" I scoff looking down to see the tips of his motorcycle boots so close to the tips of my sneakers.

"Yeah, I do." I look back up at the intensity of his voice, "I know you Nat, whether you want me to or not." A half smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, "Sometimes I don't think you want me to. But I do."

I shake my head, "You think you know-"

"I watch." He cuts me off and I look at him wide eyed, "I watch you, I pay attention. To more than the history or the stories or the files, but to you. I know you Nat." My heart pounds in my chest to the point where I feel like I can barely breath at the same time. "Timing hasn't been on our side," gingerly his hand comes up further and I manage to glance at it before his fingers are tracing my neck, brushing my new blonde hair back from my shoulder. I feel like I am shaking so hard I am gonna shatter.

So many things pour into my mind all at once, so many moments, so many things to worry about or over analyze. But I find I don't want to do that. I want to do what I have wanted to do for what? Seven years almost? And just as I know that, my mind clears, clears of the voices of doubt, or concern or practicality that chain me up in my normal life. I take a deep breath and in a second I step forward, Steve freezes or maybe I am just moving too fast. But I step up to him, closing that final gap. My hands just reach up to him taking his face in my hands, and I can feel his perfect bone structure under the tickle of his beard and I pull him to me and find no resistance as I roll up onto my toes and I find my lips on his.

And exactly like that I find myself disappearing into the kiss, familiar and shocking all at the same time. my entire body feels like it is instantly on fire. His hands find my hips and he pulls me to him, deepening the kiss, soon his right arm is wrapped around me, crushing me into his chest.

He smells amazing, like leather, classic old spice, and... grass? fresh cut grass maybe? Like spring and bar-b-q's and every cliche of an all American man. And that smell pulls me deeper into this devastating moment, which I don't want to end. I wrap an arm around his neck, my other hand finding it's way into his hair. I don't want this to stop because eventually reality has to come crashing down on me, and let's face it, reality isn't exactly easy on me ever.

All in a moment, he lifts me up off the ground and I am in his arms. I don't hesitate to wrap my legs around his body. His one arm wraps tightly around and under me, holding me steadily, like I weight nothing at all. His other hands comes up to my face and I feel his thumb brush along my cheek bone, his fingers playing in my hair hanging beside my face.

I am intoxicated by every element of this moment in time and I find myself turning into his hand, breaking the kiss to turn into his hand letting it cradle my cheek with my eyes closed before I take a deep breath and open my eyes again and look down into his blue eyes looking back up at me, and his doesn't move to let me down, doesn't even shift. "What are you doing here Steve?" I find myself asking him again.

"I told you Nat," His brows twitch to a innocent expression and he looks up at me with such an open honest look I feel my breath taken away again. "I came for you. Just you."

And in that moment I allow myself to let go. His hand reaches up and he takes my cheek in his hand, and it fits so perfectly, his fingers working their way into my hair, like we were meant to fit together. Something I had never considered. He pulls my face down to his, and I allow myself to melt into his kiss. I let everything else melt away from us and just exist in this perfect moment. This moment in which Steve wants me, Natasha, by his side.

His kiss electrifies my whole body as I revel in the very taste of him. His hand braces my head as his other lets go of my body, I tighten my legs around his waist pulling myself closer to him, pressing my chest into his. His other arm rubs my back letting me relax into him, his hand moving up and under the back of my shirt, and I can feel every callus on his palm and I revel in it.

He steps back and finds the edge of my bed and gently his sits back onto it. And in a moment we break the kiss so I can shed my sweater and before I am done Steve is already pulling my shirt over my head, almost as desperate as me.

In this moment I know, I have never been this human. It has been missing from anything else like this, and I can't even pinpoint what it is but I know when I look into his face, sitting in his lap, in only my bra and jeans, I am complete and I feel myself falling against him again, pushing him back onto the mattress and we let the world fall away from us.