Hi all! Thank you for all the support; I know I don't reply to your reviews but I do read them. You've all really helped my confidence grow and I wanted to thank you for that.
Another update here. I was a bit reluctant to post this one as I wasn't really that sure about it. I've been wanting to move the story forward but I realised that it would be for the best to have an insight into how the characters are feeling. So, I decided to roll with it. This chapter starts leaning towards some Steve/Natasha so if you're here for that; enjoy! If not; apologies but that was how this was always going to go.
Wanda sat next to Natasha's bedside, a red haze dancing between her fingertips. Looking at Natasha, the young woman felt her heart ache at the abuse – the torture – her friend had undergone while at the raft. She felt her stomach twist uncomfortably at the reality that Natasha had been so close to them. She'd spent days being beaten and tortured without any of her friends knowing the slightest thing – and, even worse, not doing anything about her absence aside from missing her passively without even thinking about actively doing anything to find her.
Feeling that weight in her heart, Wanda looked at the face of her friend. Even in her sleep, there was still an element of torment in Natasha's face. It was, considering the life she had lived before Shield and the Avengers, quite unlikely that there was even a moment where Natasha felt as though she was truly at peace.
Or safe.
Feeling shame burn its way through her bloodstream, Wanda moved her eyes away from Natasha and looked at her feet.
Watching the video of Natasha's time in captivity had left her feeling hollow. Whatever they had been expecting, it had left them all shaken.
Wanda looked at the screen, mouth open in horror. The video had just ended but its content had burned itself into her mind. She felt sick. She couldn't breathe.
A large thud followed by a sickening crack startled her out of her reverie. Moving her head sharply to the side, Wanda noticed Clint's bloody and bruising knuckles, his face contorted with rage. Next to him, Laura was pale faced and seated. Unlike everyone else in the room, she seemed locked in her chair. While she had known Natasha for years, Wanda was sure that this was the first time Laura had watched the red-head have her injuries inflicted as opposed to simply seeing the aftermath.
Laura had lived a life completely different to the rest of them; she had witnessed a lot being married to Clint and having Natasha and Shield filter in and out of her life. However, she had never seen anything quite like this before and it showed.
Glad that something could motivate her to get out of her own head, Wanda moved towards the Barton couple, doing her best to ignore the pale faces of everyone else in the room.
Placing her hand on Laura's shoulder, Wanda used the other one to gently take hold of the hand Clint had just pounded into the table. It was broken, that much was obvious. Looking at the man attached to it, Wanda doubted that it was the only thing.
"Go to medical," she ordered softly, throwing a cautious look at Laura before dropping her voice into a harsh whisper, "and then take care of your wife – like Nat would want you too."
The archer nodded, the anger on his face giving away to the same shame that Wanda knew matched the faces of many others in the room – herself included. Clint gently escorted Laura out of the room, the silence becoming even more suffocating in their absence.
Finding her courage, Wanda moved her eyes to meet the other occupants of the room. Looking at Vision, she moved to walk over to his side – finding comfort in his presence.
The person Wanda was most worried about was Steve, his face was pale, and his eyes shined with unshed tears. He was angry too, the clench in his jaw and the whiteness of his knuckles made that perfectly clear. He looked almost murderous. Shame, pain and burning rage fighting for dominance over his face. His shoulders seemed to be buckling under the weight of all his emotion and there was a moment where Wanda thought he was about to explode – or implode – before he turned on his heel and stormed out the room, the glass cracking as he slammed the door behind him.
Wincing, Wanda turned to Sam. His tension had melted away into concern for his friend and he met her gaze quickly.
"Follow him." She ordered, ploughing on before he could challenge her. "He may not want you to, but he is in no state to be alone – Natasha would not want him to be alone right now."
Sam deflated briefly before his unwavering loyalty kicked in and he sprinted away in the direction that Steve had gone barely stopping to squeeze Wanda's shoulder before he left.
Finally, it seemed like there was air to spare. Taking a deep breath, Wanda looked at Tony. His face was just as pale, and guilt ridden as everyone else and he seemed to be begging her to order him around the same way that she had the others.
Take control, find a solution; that's what Natasha would do.
"This can be used as evidence, yes?" Wanda asked, jerking her head towards the screen.
Stark nodded, his own eyes avoiding the blank screen with a fervour.
T'Challa spoke up. "It'll certainly discredit General Ross; there can be no doubt of his co-operation in the torture that has befallen Agent Romanoff."
Rhodey hummed in agreement. "We'll need to find out who those other soldiers were. If we can link them to Ross, then we'll have a stronger case for Natasha."
Tony nodded and Wanda stood up straight. "Then do it." She turned to Vision, her gaze softening as she looked into his eyes. "Help them."
He nodded, offering her hand a slight squeeze before turning to face the men left in the room. Scott, it seemed, was also on board but met Wanda's eyes with a curious look.
"What are you going to do?" He asked.
The young woman paused, feeling her power shift through her body like a tidal wave morphing into a Tsunami. "
I am going to see Natasha."
So here she was. She had sent Peter on his way with a soft smile and a plea to have some time alone with her friend and he had agreed without any complaint.
Watching the energy dance between her fingertips, Wanda wondered if what she was about to do was going to violate the friendship between her and Natasha. A few days ago – a few hours ago, even – if someone would have asked her to look inside her friend's head; to go into Natasha's sacred space without permission, Wanda would have refused in an instance.
Yet if anything had grown clearer in their return, it was that the team needed Natasha. They needed her guidance and they needed to know that she was okay. The resent scans conducted by Cho and her team suggested that Natasha's brain activity was normal – whether she would have any psychological distress would only be shown by her waking up.
If she could put her plan into action, Wanda wouldn't be waking up the spy; no, that would be something that she would leave to nature. It would not do any damage – except perhaps to their friendship – for Wanda to probe around into Natasha's mind in order to gain some clarity from her friend and her thoughts.
Looking behind her, through to window and into the empty hallway, Wanda flicked her hand and jerked the blinds into a close. She closed her eyes and channelled her power into her hand before closing it around the still hand of her friend.
Moving through the bandages and the cuts, Wanda sought out a sign of Natasha's consciousness. Even the smallest fraction of her mind that regained a sense of clarity throughout all the pain that she had endured. Manoeuvring her way through the other woman's mind, Wanda fought to find a piece of the Natasha she knew and loved.
It felt almost hopeless until –
"Wanda?"
The bass tone of Natasha's voice reached her, softened by an undertone that was both curious and relieved.
Snapping her eyes open and pushing her power to the back of her mind, Wanda spent a moment just looking at her friend.
Natasha looked just like she had the last time Wanda had seen her; her hair was slightly longer, and she was wearing her favoured leather jacket and dark jeans instead of her uniform but the cuts and bruises that had been decorating her skin since Wanda's return to the compound had vanished.
Lacking all hesitation, Wanda strode over to Natasha and wrapped her in a tight hug. Relishing in the moment as the red-heads arms took hold of her in a comforting embrace.
"It's good to see you too, kid." Natasha sighed. "Or should I say remember considering that this is happening inside my head."
Suddenly sheepish, the dark-haired woman pulled back. "I'm sorry. I know I said I would never but..." She trailed off, a sob catching in the back of her throat. "I – We've – I've just missed you so much."
Natasha smiled, pulling Wanda back into the hug.
"I've missed you too. Don't worry; it's nice having company inside my head that likes me. That doesn't happen a lot around her." She joked, pulling back and taking a seat on a chair that Wanda hadn't noticed. There was no time for Wanda to comment before Natasha spoke again.
"I take it I'm still alive then?"
Wanda nodded, not quite meeting the questioning eyes that followed her movements as she took a seat next to Natasha.
"I'll take that to mean that I'm not looking my best outside of this?"
The younger woman nodded.
"You take all this effort to come into my head and you don't want to talk to me? I'm offended." The way Natasha spoke made it seem as though the comment was supposed to come off as a joke, but Wanda could feel the sadness in the red-heads tone.
"I do want to talk!" Wanda protested. "I just…"
"Don't know what to say because the last time we spoke we were fighting against each other?" Natasha finished, taking a sip of a drink that had, it seemed, appeared out of nowhere.
"Yes," she confessed, "How do you keep doing that?"
"Doing what?" Natasha replied innocently, raising her eyebrow slightly before allowing her lips to tilt upwards briefly.
"That." Wanda clarified, looking down towards the mug that had appeared in front of her. It replicated the one that she had used at the compound. A souvenir that Sam and Steve had brought back for her from a mission in the Ukraine. Seeing a ray of sunlight catch the rings on her finger, Wanda looked to the source and found herself recognising the surroundings. They were in Natasha's favourite place at the compound; a rooftop patio that had been, according to Natasha, Pepper's suggestion.
It had been a room that both Wanda and Natasha had been drawn too, Wanda like to watch the sun set and then linger for a few hours – and sometimes and entire night – to gaze at the stars. It was something she had started doing when Pietro died (albeit at the Tower at first) as a reminder that she had somehow managed to find enough things to occupy her day from sunrise to sunset. That she could make it from day-to-day without her twin by her side.
Natasha, on the other hand, had liked to watch the sunrise. Some nights, she would show up a few hours earlier after either returning late from a mission or because she could not find enough peace to sleep. When Wanda had asked Natasha why she liked to watch the sun come up, the older woman had just answered that it was a reminder that she had lived to see a new day but also that she had not yet become settled enough to take that knowledge for granted.
At first, Wanda had thought that was sad however the more she got to know Natasha the more she saw it as a balance between who Natasha was and who she was trying to become. By watching the sunrise, she had survived a day longer than she thought she would when she was a girl, she had spent a day moving further away from her villainous past, but she also had a new day to do better, to save more lives.
Spending a moment staring out at the setting sun – because of course Natasha had picked a view that reminded her of her friend rather than herself – Wanda looked at Natasha, expecting an answer to her question.
"It's…nice," Natasha began, moving her own eyes to look back out at the darkening sky, "to remember something better than all the pain that I've been through – that I'm still going through."
The spy sighed, slouching in her chair as though to sooth some of the pain that was blooming in her gut. "Sometimes I really hate being alone but here," she gestured to the grounds of the compound around her "is the least painful way to do it."
Shame hotter than a burning poker seethed its way through Wanda. "I'm sorry, Nat. We're all so, so sorry."
"I know." Natasha replied, but her eyes were hollow. Empty. Too buried under pain to really believe what Wanda was saying.
Wanda wanted to tell her that they were doing everything that they could to help, to make the situation better. It was true, they were, and they wouldn't stop until they found justice for Natasha, but Wanda knew, just as Natasha knew, that there was a large part of those actions that were being used as a balm over their own guilt for not being there in the first place. Instead of asking questions like she planned, Wanda decided to take the moment to place her friend first.
"Is there anything you want to know?" She asked, placing her hand on top of Natasha's and squeezing it. "You can ask me anything, I'll tell you what I know."
There was silence for a moment and Wanda wondered if Natasha was going to scream at her, throw her out of her head with a message of no forgiveness. It took a few more seconds before Natasha seemed to accept the olive branch – one of many that she would be receiving if Wanda had her way (not that Natasha Romanoff needed anyone to fight her battles).
"There was a kid – a boy – at the compound when I collapsed. Brown hair, terrified expression on his face; I think I scared him. Is he okay?"
It took a second or two before Wanda realised that the boy in question was Peter, but she wasted no time in answering. "He's fine. His name is Peter Parker – or Spiderman. He's actually been spending a lot of time by your hospital bed."
Natasha's lips quirked. "Sweet kid. Don't know if I'd have guessed he was the Spiderman from the airport, but I've seen a few reports on his work; he's a good guy. I can't believe he's so young."
Silence reigned once more as Natasha considered her next question. It was a few minutes before she settled on the one that she wanted to ask. "How is everyone?"
While surprised at the simplicity of it, Wanda took it in stride. "Not good, to be honest. We've all been worried about you. Stark called Steve as soon as Doctor Cho filled him in on your condition and we all came back as soon as we could – "we" meaning; me, Vis, Clint, Sam and Steve. Rhodey, Pepper, Happy and Peter were already at the compound with Tony and Hill, T'Challa, Scott, Laura and the kids have all showed up too. It was today that we all learned about what General Ross did to you."
Natasha looked surprised. "How did that go down?"
"Not well. Clint punched the table, Laura went into shock and Steve stormed off – Sam followed him but I he looked furious when I last saw him."
The spy's breath caught in her throat at the mention of Steve, but Wanda pretended not to notice, instead focusing her energy of being there to answer Natasha's questions.
"Stark and St-Cap are back on speaking terms then?"
"Not exactly." She admitted, ignoring the slip up. "They've just brokered a peace agreement for now. They need to hash it all out but neither of them wants to do it right now. They're both focused on finding out what happened to you."
Natasha offered a slow nod before moving onto her next question. "How's Rhodey?"
"Better. Stark built him a metal exoskeleton for his legs to give him full movement. He said it was hard, but he is adjusting."
"Good." The red-haired woman smiled. "He's a good man, he didn't deserve what happened to him. Are he and Sam okay?"
"They're fine. The situation was quickly forgiven and forgotten by both parties."
Again, the two women were left in silence, but it was the most comfortable one thus far. Spending a moment lost in her own thoughts, Natasha's smile widened considerably before she turned to Wanda, leaning forward in her chair. Her brow was raised making her expression look she almost…playful.
Suddenly, the younger woman felt as though she was under a spotlight. "What?" She asked hesitantly, almost fearful of the question that could get Natasha's smile that wide.
"Are you and Vision a couple yet?"
Instantly, Wanda felt her cheeks burning and turned her eyes to the floor, praying for it to swallow her whole. She wondered if she could avoid answering and prayed Natasha would be deterred by her reluctance.
No such luck. The spy leaned back with a triumphant look in her eye. "I'm taking that as a yes!"
Wanda's eyes snapped back up. "I never said it was a yes!"
"You never said it was a no. Frankly, I'm glad. The last thing I need is the two of you making heart eyes over my hospital bed. You kids keep that stuff confined to the bedroom – or the kitchen; whatever floats your boat."
"Nat!"
Wanda spluttered, trying to find a retort that would take the heat from her face. Eventually she gave in and let out a happy laugh that was quickly joined by her friend's soft chuckle. It felt nice, to be sitting in the place with her friend where they shared joyful memories and light-hearted teasing.
Natasha sighed, the weight dropping of her shoulders as she allowed herself to relax in her friend's company.
"How'd it happen then? You and Vision?"
A bashful smile appeared on Wanda's face. "He found me. And he stayed with me – or, for me, I guess. He'd go back to help Stark sometimes, but he'd always come back. Even when I let him go."
Natasha swallowed harshly, her voice sticking in her throat. She was pleased for Wanda – and Vision – truly, she was. Yet she'd be lying if she said that the words didn't send a bolt of bitterness through her. She wondered what it would be like to have someone do that for her. To come back to her no matter how many times she let them go. No matter how many times she walked into the firing line. A part of her knew that what Wanda had told her about everyone being devastated by her condition was true – that was the rational part. The selfish part – the wounded part – however, was desperate to not just know it, but feel it.
To feel loved.
And wanted.
By anyone.
Well, by S-
Pushing it all away, she plastered a smile on her face and turned back to the young witch at her side whose face was flushed with excitement now as opposed to embarrassment. Listening to what Wanda was saying, she found it easy to bring back her genuine happiness for her friend. It would be sad when Wanda left her. Hopefully, she'd be able to find the strength to stay in this part of her memories rather than slipping back into the darkness. At first, she'd felt as though she was floating; there had been nothing distinct around her but a clear weightlessness and pounding in her ears.
After a while it had become like something between a dream and a nightmare; she ended up spending a lot of time in her memories. Sometimes, when she grew tired and her body felt heavy, she'd go back to floating (if that was dying, Natasha imagined that she'd be able to be content with her ending).
Often though, she was stuck in her memories. Sometimes she'd be here, where she could exist at her own pace, pretending she was just waiting for a new day to begin at the compound. Sometimes she'd be accompanied by Wanda. A few times she was there beside Steve. Those days were some of her favourites, but they were a rarity.
Sometimes, she'd be at the Barton house, watching Cooper, Lila and – if she imagined hard enough – Nathanial grow up before her eyes. Clint and Laura would be there too, happy and smiling, knuckles intact and faces full of colour and happiness.
Once or twice, she'd ended up in Avengers tower training, fighting and living with the rest of the team like they had before Ultron.
Most of her memories were lived in the Red Room. Fingernails gone, feet bloodied. She danced her way through a massacre day after day. She'd felt like she'd been locked in her old body, her old mind. No way to escape except living the memory – or delirium, her mind had never been completely trustful over those times – to completion and praying that she'd be offered some respite afterwards.
She wondered sometimes how long she had been unconscious. There were times where she lived hundreds of days in what felt like minutes. A few times, she'd genuinely considered the fact that she might be dead. When Wanda had showed up, she'd wondered if Wanda was dead too and this was just what the afterlife was like.
It made her stomach twist guiltily to think that for a second, she had wished Wanda dead. She had wished that this was the afterlife, Wanda was dead, and she wasn't alone anymore. Together they could drink tea and watch the sun live and die while they waited for Vision and Laura and Clint and Steve to show up. They could wait and it would be fine. They'd have each other and they wouldn't be alone.
Then Wanda had rushed up to her and Natasha could just feel how alive she was. How desperate and concerned she was for. How she was brimming with guilt and concern. She'd felt a slight pressure at her temple and brief pattern of coolness on her hand and she'd tried to ignore the feeling of her heart breaking again in such a short space of time.
Apparently, Wanda had caught onto her musings and had slowly ended her ramblings. She had her eyes on Natasha, brown orbs flooded with concern. Deciding that there was no point beating around the bush, Natasha went back to asking questions.
"How long are you going to stay?"
The girl paused, in all honestly, she hadn't thought about that. She didn't feel exhausted by her power yet, so she figured that she could stay for a while longer.
"I can stay as long as you need me to." Wanda stated, her back straightening in determination.
Natasha smiled gently. "No; you can't. Don't overexert yourself for my sake."
"I'll come back – if you want me too."
The older woman fell back in her seat, ignoring the question and offering her own instead. "How long have I been out?"
"A few days, you're still in critical condition – although you are improving."
Natasha looked Wanda dead in the eye. "I'm not saying this to upset you; I just want you to know that," she paused, waiting until Wanda motioned for her to continue before speaking, "if things don't start to improve and it becomes an option – or if I get too bad and saving me is just becoming a routine – I want you, no, I need you to let me go."
The dark-haired woman opened her mouth to protest but Natasha held her hand up before she could start.
"Listen, Wanda, I've spent most of my life knowing that all this pain I've been carrying – all this guilt and regret that I've kept bottled up inside – is only ever going to completely go away when I die. I don't like it. I'm not okay with it. But I've accepted it.
"Right now, I'm just stuck at this point where I'm living it all over again, completely aware of the fact that my life is moving in absolutely no direction. I'm dying, Wanda." Natasha paused, her voice cracking. "And I need there to be a point where I either get better or I go. It needs to end, and someone must be there to end it. I don't want you or Clint, or Tony or Cap-"
"Steve!" Wanda shouted, moving forward to look at Natasha. "His name is Steve and ignoring that isn't going to take the pain away! He'd be devasted, Natasha. We all would."
Natasha sighed, her heart aching.
"I'm tired, Wanda." Her voice was breaking, the words catching in her throat. "I'm so tired and I just need to know that there will be a point where it will all just stop. Please, please, understand that."
Wanda sniffled and held Natasha's hand tightly in her own. "I do – I do understand that, but Natasha, we love you, we need you to be okay. Just hang in there, please. We're doing everything we can. We-"
She broke off, feeling a presence aside from her and Natasha enter the space. Natasha stood up, eyes narrowed and alert. Wanda rose beside her, trying to identify whoever had appeared.
The witch stumbled backwards, struggling at the strain of an unknown spectator. Natasha managed to push her into a chair before returning into a defensive stance.
There was nothing, no presence, no sound until…
"Nat?"
Whirling around, she saw Clint standing behind her. His expression was a mixture of confusion and relief, but it was only a few seconds before the latter gained control and he strode towards her in order to pull her into a fierce hug.
For a moment, Natasha allowed herself to be held by her friend before turning to look back at Wanda. Her face was pale, her eyes had closed, and she still couldn't seem to return to her feet.
"You okay, Wanda?" She asked, moving away from Clint to crouch beside the girl.
Wanda groaned before prying one eye open and looking at Clint. She gazed at him with an intent focus before the colour return to her face and she sat back up.
"I'm fine." Wanda turned to Clint and narrowed her eyes slightly. "Although some warning would have been nice."
Sensing the brisk tone of her voice, Clint raised his arms up in a gesture of surrender. "Hey, don't blame me. I came to wake you up; you looked like you were passed out next to Nat's hospital bed."
Not having any of the same hesitation or wonder that Wanda had arrived with; Clint dropped into an extra chair on Natasha's other side as the red-head slowly did the same.
"So how did you get here?" Natasha asked. "Not that I'm not happy to see you – I am, I really am – but is it safe for him to be here?"
Wanda nodded, moving her hands in a careless gesture. "It is fine. I may tire quicker than I would of before, but we should still have time. He must have placed his hand on ours," she could see Clint nod from the corner of her eye, "I must have brought him into the connection."
He nodded. "Where exactly are we? I mean, is this real?"
Natasha swivelled her head towards Wanda, and it wasn't hard to see the hint of fear that crept into her eyes at the idea that all of this was just another cruel dream.
"It's real; this is all happening inside Natasha's head, but it is a reflection of the interactions of our three minds."
Clint snorted before turning to Natasha, a wide grin spread on his face. "Wow, Nat. I always knew that there wasn't much going on inside your head – OUCH!"
He recoiled as the spy punched him swiftly in the ribs.
"Good to know that still hurts here."
The archer sat back in his chair, rubbing his side with a childlike frown.
"How's the hand?" Natasha asked, eyebrows raised.
The man in question brought his hand forward. While it wasn't damaged here, the flexing of his knuckles clearly still transmitted him some pain as he quickly stopped and placed his hand back down.
"Cho said that I'd broken some of my knuckles."
"Dumbass."
"Bite me, Romanoff."
"No thanks, I've been through enough."
Their banter continued, Wanda's small giggles breaking through occasionally. Secretly, the younger woman hoped that Natasha's interactions with Clint would give her back some confidence – as well as some hope.
Taking a back seat to the conversation, Wanda felt the tiredness begin to creep forward. Natasha and Clint had moved on to talk about Laura and the Barton children – Clint seemed to take the hint that Natasha was not quite ready to go hear more about the other Avengers now. Natasha had seemed relieved by the idea that Laura had calmed down – She'd left for bed while Clint had decided to go and try to wake Wanda – but was positively thrilled – in her own way – by the idea that Lila had decided to take a few ballet classes and little Nathaniel had been trying his best to copy some moves – albeit on shaky legs.
"I guess the little traitor is finally coming over to the winning side."
Clint scoffed. "Don't get comfortable, Romanoff. I'll have a bow and arrow in his hands by Christmas."
Natasha chuckled. "Then Laura will have you buried by the New Year."
Wanda grinned. "She'll have your bow and arrow burnt on a pyre."
The archer grimaced, his face contorted in horror at the idea of his precious weapon being destroyed. "Maybe I'll wait until Easter. Give him some secret lessons before we show Laura."
The two women shared a smile, rolling their eyes in unison as silence fell over them. Since Wanda had arrived, this was the first time she could say that Natasha seemed truly content; her shoulders had relaxed and there was a small smile lingering on her face. There was a second where she wondered if it had been unfair to do this; to show up only to leave again. Yet, if she were being honest, she knew that Natasha had needed this visit more than anything. She had needed some sign that she wasn't alone. That they cared and that they were fighting for her.
As the exhaustion began to settle in her bones, Wanda wondered how she would tell Natasha – and Clint – that it was time to pull away. She had just begun to think about how to form the words when Natasha herself turned to face her.
"You need to leave; you're exhausted."
Wanda sat forward. "How did you know that?"
"I'm a spy, I notice everything." Natasha replied cryptically. Wanda just continued to look at her before she rolled her eyes and answered. "You've yawned six times in the last ten minutes."
Clint, taking the que, moved over towards Natasha and pulled her into another hug. In the silence, Wanda could hear him whispering.
"Just hold on for us, Tasha, please. Cho's doing everything she can for you."
Pulling back, the two partners shared a look before entering a brief hug. Stepping to the side, Clint allowed Wanda to have her moment with Natasha.
Throwing her arms around her friend, Wanda didn't know what to say. She'd come wanting answers to questions but had ending up doing her best to offer Natasha some peace and clarity instead.
"Thank you." Natasha broke the silence, her grip tight on Wanda. "For coming, I mean. I needed that."
"I'll come back as soon as I can." Wanda promised, her voice clear despite the tears welling in her eyes. "I promise."
"I meant what I said, Wanda."
"But-"
Natasha sighed. "I'll try to hold on, I will – I promise. I just don't want you all living your lives around me. Spend some time with Vision and Nathanial. Get Tony and Ca-Steve to pull their heads out their asses and talk. Just don't spend your life waiting on mine."
Tears fell down Wanda's cheeks and she didn't know what to say. Pulling back, Natasha rubbed her thumbs along the younger girls' cheeks; banishing the tears from her face.
"You'll be okay, Wanda. You all will."
"What about you?"
Natasha shrugged, pulling on her mask of indifference. "I'm the Black Widow; I'm always okay."
Not wanting to fight, both Wanda and Clint hugged Natasha again before stepping back. Taking Clint's hand in her own, Wanda offered Natasha a smile before she closed her eyes and pulled the two of them back into their own minds.
At first there was silence until the beeping and humming of the hospital machines began to enter her ears. Still, she kept her eyes close and her hand tightly on Natasha's even as she felt Clint remove his own and place it on her shoulder.
"Are you okay?"
Swaying slightly in her seat, Wanda opened her eyes and looked at him. Despite the own ache she was feeling in her heart, it was almost nice to see the same anguish reflected in Clint's eyes. It made her feel less alone. Offering the hand under her own a final squeeze, Wanda slowly rose to her feet before answering Clint's question.
"Not really. You?"
He tried to smile, but it was as empty as they felt. "Not really."
In unison, they both turned to look at Natasha again. While her condition was still terrible, there was a moment where she looked almost relaxed. In an exhale, it was gone, and Natasha had returned to her previous state. While it was only brief, Wanda's heart lightened considerably at the idea that their visit influenced Natasha.
"She looked peaceful." Clint admitted, breaking the silence with a soft whisper. "When I thought you were asleep, and I came to wake you – she looked more peaceful then I'd seen her in a long time."
A smile tugged at her lips. "Then we'll just have to make sure we go back."
He nodded but said nothing.
"Are you going to tell Laura?" Wanda asked.
Once again there was a pause as Clint debated his answer.
"I think so." He admitted. "I don't want to get her hopes up because, medically, I don't think anything has changed. But I think she deserves to know. I think Nat would want her to know after the day she's had. Laura's was the first friend Natasha had that wasn't a part of the espionage game; there's a part of Tasha that has always wanted to keep her away from it all."
"Do you know who's supposed to sit with her next?"
"I think it was supposed to be Steve, but I don't know if he's back yet."
Wanda paused. "Do you think we should tell him about...?"
"Wait and see how he is when he gets back."
She nodded, that seemed like the best idea. Before she could open her mouth to agree, however, she let out a giant yawn.
Clint chuckled. "Come on, you need to get to your room before you pass out."
"Do you think we should leave her on her own?"
The man's face softened. He looked between Wanda and Natasha. "I'll ask one of the nurses to sit with her until I find someone else. Now come on, you look like you're about to pass out."
Not waiting for a reply, Clint steered Wanda out of the room only stopping to ask one of the nurses to stay alongside their friend.
Meanwhile, a few miles outside of the compound, Sam had finally managed to catch up to Steve. The man he was chasing had – thankfully – stopped but had instead dropped himself onto a fallen tree and sat there, back hunched and fists clenched. The closer he came, the easier it was for Sam to notice that Steve was shaking.
He knew that nothing his said would be able to make his friend feel better so rather than offering false promises and empty reassurance, Sam simply dropped onto the log and placed his hand of the shoulder of the man next to him; offering nothing more than an ear to listen to his woes.
Seemingly folding in on himself, Steve let out a chocked breath. "I should have gone back."
Sam shook his head. "You couldn't have known."
"Then I should have taken her with me when Buck and I left Leipzig. I knew that she'd be in danger and I left her anyway."
"She wouldn't have gone, man. It's Natasha; she knew what she was getting into when she let you go. If she had wanted to leave with you then she would have. She didn't want to run from a fight."
Steve, so intent on trying to a share of the blame, shook his head. "When we left the raft, I should have looked for her. T'Challa had told us that she wasn't with Tony; I should have tried to find her, and I never did."
"No, you didn't." Sam admitted. "But neither did the rest of us. Natasha is our friend and we assumed that she would be okay because she's Natasha. We didn't know, Steve. We couldn't have known what was going to happen. Yeah, we should have tried to look for her. We should have found a way to make sure that she was okay. That's on us. Not just on you."
The blonde said nothing, getting on his feet to pace up and down.
Relieved that he wasn't going to have to pick up chase again, Sam leant back against the log and let out a deep breath. The truth was, there was nothing that he could say that would make Steve feel better. After knowing the soldier for a few years, Sam knew that the only person who could absolve Steve of any of his heartache would be Natasha.
There was, for the moment, nothing left to say until Steve began to speak.
"Do you think she hates me?"
Sam paused. "I don't think Natasha could ever hate you. She might be a little pissed, and more than a little hurt, but no, I don't think she hates you."
"Even after the Accords?"
"She came to see you, didn't she? It wasn't the disagreement between you that she cared about, Cap."
Steve turned to Sam, a question was clear in his eyes. "What did she care about then? I remember her at the airport, she looked..."
He remembered the look on her face clearer than anything.
Steve looked in front of him at Tony. The man in front of him looked as though he would do anything to prevent him and the rest of his newly christened group of fugitives – Bucky especially – back into captivity.
He couldn't allow that to happen.
Not only for Bucky's sake; he knew that T'Challa was going for blood. He needed to protect the world from the harm that could be caused by more Winter-Soldier like assassins. Fighting against Bucky when he was absent of his humanity had been one of the most difficult fights of his life. Regardless of the emotional difficulties, the Winter Soldier had an endurance level and skill set that went in for the kill. While his Shield training had allowed him to refine his skillset over the last few years, there was a ferocity in the Winter Soldiers skillset that could only be matched by a bloodlust that came from having zero remorse.
Letting the Soldiers stored in Siberia free would subject God knows how many people to unknown travesties. No, he couldn't allow that to happen. No matter what it took, he needed to get to Siberia with Bucky and the team so that they could capture the man responsible and prevent the release of the other Soldiers.
He tried to tell Tony, but he refused to listen. While fighting Tony was not something he wanted to do, he knew that he would have to in order to get to the quinjet. He'd do whatever it took; he'd fight whoever he needed too.
"Steve…"
The Captain whipped his head around to see Natasha walking towards him from behind. Meeting her eyes, he tried to plea with her to not interfere. He didn't know if she had heard his claim about the other Winter Soldiers – although he assumed that she had because nothing ever got past Natasha. If anyone could understand how important it would be to put a stop to them, it was Natasha. She had been on the receiving end of violence perpetrated by the Winter Soldier multiple times. He had shot her twice in Odessa and D.C. Plus, if the bruises on her neck were anything to go by, Bucky's earlier lapse in control had put her in danger.
It was harder to ignore that. He couldn't just turn around and pretend like he couldn't see the danger that Bucky posed but he wasn't about to let his friend become incarcerated for something he hadn't done.
Natasha looked at him, her eyes wide and earnest. "You know what's about to happen."
He did, he knew the moment he had ordered the others to suit up. Judging by both Tony and Natasha's attire, they were both running along the same strand.
It was clear that both teams were about to make their allegiances clear. The lines were about to be drawn.
Still in front of him, Natasha's glance remained unwavering and underneath the steeliness that she wore on the surface it was clear to see that there was something else behind her gaze. The Avengers were all that she had; they were her family. If there were no Avengers – which was steadily becoming the underlying threat – then there would be nothing left here for Natasha. She would have to run, fast and far, to prevent a net from falling over her.
There was no point, he knew, in trying to change her mind. Natasha was a force to be reckoned with at any time, but she would fight her hardest to protect what she believed in – and she believed in the Avengers, regardless of any looming Government constraints.
He thought back to their moment at Peggy's funeral. How she had relived to him what had happened to her during the fall of Shield. He had felt awful for her as she had revealed that going back to Russia to try and retrace her routes had only brought her back to more death and heartache. Not one for sympathy, Natasha had simply looked at him and said; "We have what we have when we have it."
Right now, it was clear to see that all Natasha had was the Avengers. Now lying in wait on the consequences of his actions, he knew that what he was about to do might be the death of the team. If things went the way that he was hoping, Tony's team would be unable to catch them, and Ross would dismantle the Avengers completely until such a time when the accords called for them. The team as he and Natasha had led it would be gone.
Exhaling, he tried to send his apologies to Natasha through his eyes. He could see the moment when she realised that he wasn't going to stop. As he watched the breath catch in her throat, he could see a flash of pain in her eyes before she covered it with her Black Widow exterior.
"Do you really want to punch your way out of this one?"
He didn't. He really didn't. It was the last thing he wanted, he knew that it would cost him everything he had built for himself since he had woken up from the ice, but he also couldn't stand by and let Bucky take the fall for a crime he didn't commit.
He didn't want to hurt Tony. Despite the tenderness of their friendship it did run deep, and Steve was grateful to the other man for everything he had done. It wasn't fair that this is what would define the rest of their interactions – if there ever was any – but he couldn't let his friendship with Tony blind him to what was the right course of action. If Tony wasn't going to believe that Bucky had been set up, then Steve would fight him to prove it.
What he hated most about this whole ordeal though was that he didn't want it to be the end of him and Natasha. Between D.C and Ultron, his search for Bucky had stopped them from growing any closer but after he had asked her to stay and lead the new team with him, they had returned to their easy comradery. He'd become more attached to Natasha than anyone else; her experience and drive had taught him then he thought he would ever learn. Together they had managed to forge a partnership that had created a sense of unity between the whole team.
Looking at Natasha, there was nothing that he wanted more that to beg for her to just listen to him, to believe him. He wanted her to fight with him, to stay by his side.
Instead, however, the resigned look switched from his face to hers and he understood that regardless of how they felt, they were both here to fight for what they believed. He wouldn't ask her to change and he knew that, while she did ask, she would never expect or criticise him for remaining just as steadfast.
Turning back to Tony, he heard the other man say. "You're going to come with us – because it's us!"
Us. Tony and Natasha.
Two of the closest friends he had made in this life. Two friends so different yet so like himself. People who he had judged, harshly, when their views on morality hadn't quite lined up with his.
Two people who had strived to great lengths to prove him wrong. The first sacrificing his life in order to throw a nuclear bomb through a wormhole. The second offering to give up everything she had strived to protect, painting a target on her own back, in order to save the lives of twenty-million people.
Two heroes.
He wished that he could go with them, that he could explain and that everything that had happened so far could be washed away. He wished he could go back to having his benign disagreements with Tony. He wished that he could spent the rest of his days in partnership with Natasha. He wished it was that simple.
It wasn't.
He'd have to prove that Bucky was innocent; that he hadn't caused the bombing in Vienna.
To do that, he'd have to fight.
He fought.
Later, the end had finally been in sight. He and Bucky were in the clear. It would be hard to leave the rest of the team behind, but he knew that they had already wasted enough time. By now, the other Winter Soldiers could be close to being awakened.
They needed to go, now.
Running clear of the rubble, Steve's shoulders dropped when he saw Natasha, armed and ready, standing in front of the quinjet.
Despite knowing that the best thing to do would be to raise his shield, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Next to him, Bucky remained still calmly following his lack of movements.
Natasha looked at him, offering him no pretences. "You're not going to stop?"
He sighed, begging her to believe him. "You know that I can't."
To an untrained eye, there were no movements that offered any signal to whether Natasha believed anything that she had said. When he looked at her, he was sure for a moment that he caught something in her eyes that seemed like longing.
For the next few moments the soldier and the spy stared at each other; both pleading for the other to try to understand. A sigh from Natasha broke the silence and she looked at Steve with remorse.
"I'm going to regret this." She muttered, raising her arm.
Staring at her Widow's Bites, now pulsing with electricity, Steve made no move to fight back. He couldn't. Anyone else he would fight but not Natasha. Not after everything they had been through together. He trusted her, he trusted her judgement, and if Natasha Romanoff thought that the best thing to do would be to put him – and by extension, Bucky – into custody then he wouldn't fight her on it.
Pressing the release on her gauntlet, Steve tensed for impact.
It didn't come.
Instead, he heard the gasp of pain from behind him and turned to see King T'Challa, the Black Panther suit had a familiar blue glow and Steve could hear the crackling of electricity.
He turned back to Natasha, a shocked expression on his face.
"Go." She ordered, softly.
Looking at her, Steve saw the heartache behind her eyes. As far as the Government would be concerned, Natasha had just broken the accords. Add on to that whatever the consequences were of shooting a bolt of electricity at a King and Steve knew that Natasha Romanoff had just placed a final nail in the coffin of her heroism. With Shield gone, the biggest chance Natasha had to make a difference – to find her peace – was with the Avengers.
And she had put it all on the line to help him.
There was a desperate urge to ask her to come with them. To come with him and Bucky to Siberia and help them put and end to the Winter Soldiers once and for all. He wanted to ask her to follow him; to run away with him.
To be his partner.
He didn't.
Part of him knew that it was unlikely that she would agree. Natasha wouldn't want to run away from the consequences of her actions. Maybe once she would of, but she was a changed person since her defection. Furthermore, he knew that she would want to defend her actions. Not only to Tony, who would undoubtedly feel betrayed, but also to Ross and the UN; both of whom would probably be baying for her blood once T'Challa told them what she had done. Still, whether she ended up broken and bruised in the aftermath, Natasha Romanoff wouldn't run away.
Deciding that he would only compromise his integrity, Steve moved past Natasha with Bucky close on his heels.
The last time Steve Rogers into Natasha Romanoff's eyes he felt the look on her face burn itself behind his eyes. Rather than saying anything that placed them both in any more danger, he offered her nothing more than a nod of thanks before leaving her and an irate King in his wake.
Coming out of his memory, Steve noticed Sam looking at him. There wasn't much to say.
"It could have been so different." Steve sighed.
Sam nodded, conceding his point. "True. The thing is, Cap, is that it's too late to go back and change it. We just have to deal with what happened."
Sam was right. As much as he may have wanted to blame himself for what happened to Natasha, there wasn't much he could do aside from deal with the consequences. Of course, in his mind the consequences involved punching General Ross in the face and grovelling to Natasha, but regardless of what they turned out to be, they had to see it through.
For Natasha, they would see it through.