From: Alwayssg1 from

Idea: Russian spy!Natasha is undercover with a team research in the North Pole when they discover Captain America.

Special Request: None.

Another yawn escapes from Natasha's throat as she listens the team of scientists ramble on and on about the most recent data acquired. Something about a possible new form of life? She doesn't know, she zooned out about an hour ago. She's relieved that her assignment is to pose as a doctor –the medical kind–, so she doesn't need to know what all the scientific slang means and, in turn, have to keep up with the chatter. She really whishes she could call to HQ and have them extract her –this is a serious waste of her time–, but they've been cut out for a week now due to a blizzard. Glòria said it was normal and not to worry, they wouldn't need supplies for at least a year (the Boss had stocked up good), so all they can do is wait.

She looks around the room: Glòria, the lead scientist, is a Spanish –Catalan, better said– woman that decided to study abroad in the USA and ended staying. Single, lives alone and has a dog named Biel. Not a threat whatsoever. The brothers Dan and Kevin, scientist and nurse respectively, are two Kansas boys that won't part even if a gun was pointed at them. They're both obviously single, live together and even swap their clothes when the mood strikes them. Not a threat either, but quite disturbing.

Her eyes move to the opposite side of the room. There stands a gorilla of a man, and it still surprises her that he can fit through the doors even if it's been two months of seeing him do it. Although at first glance you would think he's there for protection, he's actually another one of the scientists, the mathematical one. Name's Richard, dating a guy a third of his size and was in the process of searching for an apartment together when the trip to the Artic fell into his lap. The guy may be big, but she could drop him with her pinkie, so no threat there. The last one of the scientists is another woman, not much taller than Natasha. Ailís is her name, from Irish provenance. Her hair is red, but more copper like than the blood red that is Natasha's. She's betrothed, her wedding in eight months. And the girl may have taken self-defense classes and know martial arts, but Natasha knows she can snap the woman like a twig. She isn't the best just because she's hot, she was trained by the best organization Russia has –had–, and she's the one solo agent everybody wants for their mission. It's a real pity that it won't last for much longer.

She eyes the last one of the team, the security guard that's just there to make sure that the scientists don't mess anything up, not that he would know with his high school degree. Really, who puts a guy that doesn't know what most of the equipment does to make sure a bunch of guys don't break it? Please. The man's name is Raúl, Argentinian and with a scowl that has everybody walking at least two meters from him. He might be a problem if things go south, but not much. Big muscles, but no technique nor discipline. Easy.

And then there's her, or better said, her cover: Natalia Orsatti, Italian origin and moved to the States five years ago. Has a cat named Chiaro and likes to check on him regularly on a chatting site with her roommate, Robyn, who is actually a KGB operative keeping tabs on her and passing along her reports.

Suddenly, one of the machines starts beeping and there's a flurry of movement as all the scientists rush to it, speaking a mile a minute and it makes Natasha's head start pounding. She can't wait for this assignment to be over. She desperately wants to grab her lunch and retire to the medical wing –if it can be called that when it's only two rooms and an office–, but her assignment is to know everything this bunch of brains with legs discover and she can't exactly do that from her office.

"It looks like metal, don't you think?"

"Yeah, and it's big."

"Must be around ten meters long and two wide, if the dimensions in the screen and the distance between the object and the drone are accurate."

"Move the drone, Ailís, get it closer. Can you switch on the lights at this depth?"

"And turn on the camera, lets see what it is."

The woman moves to the big plasma with the remotes to the drone and pushes a few buttons. Natasha spoons up the last of the porridge they had for dinner and turns to the TV when it lights up. It's a screen of total darkness until Ailís activates the night vision at everything turns green. Looks like the lights can't be turned on, after all. At first she doesn't notice anything out of the ordinary, the glaciers, some fishes and one of those luminescent squids that makes a pure, white dot on the screen until it moves away from the camera. But then Glòria points it out and she sees it. A slightly darker line between two blocks of ice. It's long and thin and has a protuberance on one end. That's… weird.

"Move around, it has to be bigger than it seems. The sensors are going wild." The image blurs as the drone shifts and approaches and when it returns, Natasha gasps and jumps from her seat in the table. Everyone turns to her, as if it is a normal thing to find a giant, boomerang shaped, metal thing sunken in the Artic. But it's not, and she recognizes it. It's…

"Oh… my… God…" her eyes are wide and glued to the screen.

"I know it's shocking, but I don't know why you're making such a big deal out of it." Speaks Kevin in a sarcastic voice. He must still be miffed for the several rejections he's gotten from her. She ignores him and looks around the room, nobody seems to realize just what they've found.

"You really don't recognize that?" she asks, exaggerating the Italian accent a little. Rick blinks up at the plasma, furrows his brows and shakes his head. So much for patriotism. "That's the Valkyrie!" Dan just shrugs. Turns out that just because they are science brains it doesn't mean they are familiar with world history. Who woulda thought? "The plane Captain America crashed into the Artic! Are you guys serious right now?" she was actually getting offended, how could somebody be so smart but so asinine at the same time?

"Didn't he crash into the Antarctic?" she almost facepalms.

"Right, cause that's so much closer to Germany or North America than the Artic." She deadpans and Kevin blushes in embarrassment.

"Oh, God she's right!" they all turn to Ailís, who has piloted the drone to the cockpit of the plane. The camera is pointed right at it and they can see the silhouette of a big man in the green shadows. "We found Captain America!"

The following hours are a blur of orders, machinery being moved and failed attempts of contacting with the bosses. They finally decide to lower on of the big drones to get the body out, because the exploratory one isn't big enough to break the glass and lacks the arms to grab the man. The problem is that the big drone doesn't have a camera, so they have to bring the small one up, attach it to the big one, and then lower them back beneath the ice. Natasha is sent to the medical bay to prepare the freezer there for the body, and she reluctantly follows the orders. Because, c'mon, she may be Russian but the opportunity of seeing a perfectly preserved, seventy year old body is not one presented every day.

Turns out that it's not what they expected. Not even an hour later after being sent away, a breathless Dan burst into her office, where she's retired after making room in the freezers.

"He's alive, Doc! Captain America is alive! C'mon, hurry!" he yanks her up from her chair and rushes to the exam room just as the rest of the team runs inside, wheeling in a stretcher with a big block of half melted ice on it.

She's quick to confirm the scientists' discovery and then starts ordering the team around, telling Ailís and Rick to start breaking away the ice and the rest to bring every heat-source available in the compound, from blankets to space heaters. She even tells them to move on of the stored beds into the other room, someone will have to stay with the captain 24/7 to monitor him. And when she see the grimaces all around the room, she knows that that someone will be her. She decides not to dwell on it for this moment and starts arranging the space heaters around the man, setting them on low to thaw him slowly.

"Shouldn't we turn those to the highest setting?" her eye twitches, the only external manifestation of her annoyance. Is this man serious? She turns slowly, and Kevin shrinks under her stare.

"You're joking, right?" she deadpans and the man gulps. "You have to warm the body slowly, from inside so as not to cause sever cardiac damage. That's basic knowledge for hypothermia treatment, how could you not know this? Are you even a nurse?"

"Hey, stop it! It was just a mistake, leave him be!" objects Dan, only to be pinned down beneath her stare.

"A mistake that could have cost this man's life at worst, left him without limbs or incapacitated at best." She turns back to the 'nurse' and glares down at him. "Next time, try learning something in collage instead of kissing every ass that required it to graduate. Get out, after that I don't even think you can be trusted with a simple IV." She returns to her patient, and doesn't even raise her eyes when she speaks to Dan. "And if you have anything to say, you better keep it shut inside until Captain Rogers is stable. Now help Ailís and Rick, or get out of our way."

It takes approximately four hours to thaw the ice block the captain was encased in. After that, Natasha dismissed the scientists to return to their duties –Raúl was starting to get really fidgety– and continues alone. She undresses him, dresses him back in scrubs –the only thing that she can find that will fit him– and hooks him up with a bag of fluids. It has been a tedious work for one person, but she refuses to let Kevin back into the medical bay, no matter how much he and his brother raved and cursed at her. She has a job to do, and she can't do it with that useless excuse of a nurse hindering her.

Captain Rogers is laid out in the bed, a little cramped with his big frame, but there's nothing she can do until the team convinces Raúl to help them move her bed into the medical bay. She's going to stay here anyway, so they might as well make use of it. However, the Argentinian man hasn't been in a cooperative mood, so the American hero will have to stay in the little, hospital bed.

He has tubes connected to his arms pumping him full of fluids and one under his nose to help him breath. She has no idea how his lungs aren't filled with water, but it certainly has made her job easier. He's covered with every blanked that wasn't necessary for the rest and has a spare space heater close to him. And even with all of that, he's still freezing when she touches him and his skin has an almost bluish translucent quality to it. She can see the network of veins and arteries all over his body and the rest is a deathly pale blue. His lips are almost purple and his eyes have a whitish tint in them. She suspects blindness, but she won't be able to confirm it until he wakes up. If he ever does.

His heart is steady, and so is his breathing and blood pressure, all his vital organs are functioning properly and his core temperature is going up, although slowly. If it keeps steady, he'll be back to a normal in a day or two.

She moves away from the bed to sit in the other one. She takes out the laptop and tries to connect with HQ, but it's hopeless. Not that it's so important, she's been giving them false updates with half-bogus information for some time, mostly to spare an innocent life, but she still has to keep up appearances. She's pretty sure HQ is aware of the blizzard, but she still prefers to leave messages every day or two so they don't get suspicious.

A change in the constant beeping in one of the machines brings her back from her musing and she's instantly up from the bed and at his side. His heart rate is getting faster, but that's actually a good thing. It was constant, but kind of sluggish, so the fact that it's increasing speed was a good sign. His body starts trembling too, and she nods in satisfaction. If his body has enough energy to start trying to heat itself, that means he's getting better too.

She resets the alarms to just detect if everything drops or increases too fast and decides to turn in for the night. She goes to the nightstand, where she's moved half of her clothes and starts changing. It's not like the Captain will care, or that she is self-conscious of her body. Once she's dressed in one of the oversized t-shirts she stole from the men's tailor and shorts, she gets in bed and reads another chapter of the latest novel she's been reading before killing the lights and gets comfortable to sleep.

"G'night, Captain."

The frantic beeping of several machines wakes Natasha at the ungodly hour of five thirteen in the morning. However, she doesn't have time to rage about it because a flurry of movement from the other bed has her standing in an instant. Captain America is flailing in his bed, milky eyes wide and mouth open in a silent scream. She's by his side in an instant, covering his hand with her own. He lashes out, and he would've stricken her if she'd had lesser reflexes. She throws herself over him, restraining him to the bed. He's shaking all over, and trying to buck her off of him with everything he has.

"Captain Rogers, it's ok, you're safe!" she tells him, shifting her weight to keep him grounded but without hurting him. "Captain, stand down! That's an order!" he goes limp immediately and she sags in relieve. The last thing she needs is a super soldier in a rampage. She sees as his mouth tries to form words, but nothing comes out but air. She's moves off of him and gets a scope before returning to his side. "Open wide, Captain Rogers." He does and she turns on the light. "Your vocal cords are atrophied and half frozen still. Don't worry; your voice will come back with time and a lot of hot beverages." She pats his arm and he stutters in a breath before raising his left hand to his eyes. She intercepts it and lays it down over his stomach before turning his face towards her and passing a flashlight over them. They don't react in the slightest, but the blue behind the white sheen is slightly more visible. "I'm afraid I can't confirm the recovery of your eyes. It looks like they improved since you got here, but we'll just have to wait and see." The man nods and tries to relax back into the bed. "Would you like some water? Tea?" he nods again, and she realizes her mistake. But he's one step ahead of her and raises two fingers. "Tea." More nodding and she smiles. For a man that just woke up from a sixty-year-old sleep, mute and blind, Captain Steven Rogers is taking it very well. "I'll be right back. Don't move much, ok? Your body's still half frozen."

When she returns with two mugs in a tray with the teapot, sugar and milk, the captain is right where she left him, and she sets the tray on a little table before wheeling it to his side. He takes a deep breath and a little smile lifts his lips. Looks like his sense of smell is intact.

"Would you like milk in the tea?" he scrunches up his nose and shakes his head. She chuckles softly at his obvious distaste. "Sugar?" when he nods, she ads, "How many cubes?" he raises a single finger and she drops one in a mug before filling it and then her own; she'll add the milk later. She stirs it and sits in the edge of the bed. The man starts at the sudden closeness, but relaxes quickly when she grabs his hand and curls it around the mug. She moves it until the edge rests over his lip before getting up and doctoring her own tea. But as soon as she turns to the man, she's laughing again. "You want more sugar, Captain?" his head moves up and down rapidly, extending the mug slightly to the right of her position. Not bad. She takes it, drops another cub –adding another half just in case– and stirring before repeating the earlier process of putting the mug to his lips. "Go slowly, you have to warm up steadily. That's it, little sips." The man smiles at her, or at her ear, and she returns it, even though he can't see it. "You're welcome."

She leaves hers to cool and starts examining the captain, keeping her questions simple and probing around his body. She notes the rosy tint in his cheeks, and she suppresses her chuckle. Besides being the hottest man she's ever seen –and she's seen a lot– he's adorable too. A killer combination. His hand covers hers where it's checking the IV, and she raises her eyes to see him offering her the empty mug. She takes it with her other hand.

"You want more?" he shakes his head and opens his mouth to say something, only to remember that he can't. He practically pouts for five seconds before his whole face lights up. He fists his hands and brings them down, as if he's hitting the sheets with his arm, then points at her with his left hand, points then to the ceiling with his hand at the side of his head and then points at himself. It takes her a few seconds to comprehend that he's using sign language.

"Can you understand me?" he makes the interrogation mark as an after thought and she does laugh then.

"Yes, I can understand you." He immediately launches into a series of movements and she's quick to grab his hands to stop them. "Easy there, tiger! Remember what I said about not moving much?" he cringes and nods. Natasha then inspects his arms to make sure he hadn't ripped anything or unhooked the IV and is pleasantly surprised to find that he's warm to the touch. The stories about him having a high metabolism must be true. "Besides, it's been a couple of years since I last used sign language, so I'm a little rusty." He grins and blushes, that's when she notices that her hands are still over his arm. She gives him a little pat and moves away. "Ok, now that we can communicate better, I'll need to ask you a few more questions. That ok?"

"Sure, ok."

"What's the last thing you remember?" his brows furrow and he rubs the heel of his palm over his left eye.

"I think…" he pauses and closes his eyes. "Talking to Peggy, maybe?"

"Peggy?"

"Agent Peggy Carter." Natasha blinks, does he mean Former Director Peggy Carter from SHIELD? That wasn't on the files. "We were planning to go dancing…" his hands stop and his face goes slack. That's when Natasha realizes why the captain was taking things so well, he hadn't remembered what had happened. Hands trembling, he starts signing again. "How much time has passed?"

She takes in his features, the trepidation in his milky eyes, the straight line of his lips, the way his hands tremble as he fists the upper sheet; and Natasha has the urge to lie, to protect him from the cruel reality of the world. But she knows that it will only hurt him more in the long run. So she buries the urge deep inside and brings forward the nurturing and empathetic side. She approaches his bed slowly and sits on the edge again, uncurling his fingers from the bed sheets and encasing one of his hands between her own. The trembling increases and his eyes grow misty.

"It's almost been seventy years since you crashed the Valkyrie." The silence is almost stifling. He closes his eyes tightly and grimaces as if in pain, lowering his head until his chin almost touches his chest. His hand tightens and she caresses the back with her thumb, trying to offer him some measure of support. "Do you want a moment?" he takes in a shuddering breath and nods. She pats his hand and deposits one of the callers in her place. "Press the button if you need anything, ok?"

He doesn't answer, but she doesn't expect him to. She gets up, gathers the mugs and the tray and leaves the room.

It's not until three hours later that he calls her. She's in the main room, reading in comfortable silence after she'd threatened the brothers with a scalpel to leave her alone or they'd loose a very treasured part of their anatomy. They'd taken it seriously, and thankfully the others did too because they stayed well out of her way. She almost felt sorry for poor Richard, who hadn't even entered the room before Dan was on him, warning him in a tone not low enough for her not to hear and giving rather gruesome details of how he'd imagined the situation to go.

Rick is still unable to look at her.

When the beeper sounds, everybody turns to her. She ignores them, calmly marks the page she's on and gets up from her place in the couch. She leaves the room without a word, sending a murderous glare to Kevin when he tries to follow. They've all tried to get something out of her –is he cool? Is it true that his body temperature is higher than normal? Are his arms really bigger than my head?–, and then the brothers had butted in and made some really tasteless comments about the captains 'big hands' and, well, the scalpel had appeared in her hand.

When she's sure they wont follow her, she returns to the medical bay. She knocks before entering, but it seems as if the captain can't hear her or rather decides to ignore her. He doesn't try to hide his wet cheeks, or his red and puffy eyes or his runny nose. He has stopped crying, but his breath is still hitched and his eyes are still glassy. He raises his hands, and she directs her gaze to them.

"Could you get me a tissue, please?" she notes that the trembling in his fingers has subsided, but it's not completely gone. As she hums a confirmation and goes to get him the tissues, she wonders if it's because of his state of mind or the state of his body. Probably both.

"Here…" she takes his hand and settles the box on it. With careful movements, he pulls one out, sets the box on his lap and blows his nose. Again, he makes no effort to clean the tear-tracks on his face. Natasha hesitates for a second –this is a man that comes from a time where forward women are frowned upon– but decides to go with it. With measured movements, Natasha takes the place perched on the side of his bed and snatches a tissue from the box. With careful strokes, she wipes his face, keeping the touch light and careful. He closes his eyes and she dabs over them to collect the stray tears caught in his lashes. His breath hitches, and his lip trembles. "Shh… it's ok. Do you need some more time?" he shakes his head and takes in a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

"You never told me your name." she laughs softly, and she's surprised when she notices that it's genuine.

"Natalia, but you can call me Nat if you prefer. It's a long name to spell out." He gifts her with a small –but happy– smile.

"Call me Steve, then. I never got used to the Captain thing." She chuckles and pats his hand before getting up.

"Will do, Steve. Is there anything I can get you? Some tea or hot cocoa for that throat?" before he can answer, she speaks again. "Wait, let me se how's it going in there." he opens his mouth dutifully and she's happy to see that his vocal cords are in perfect condition. "Looks like you may not need it. Try to say something." He opens his mouth and choughs forcefully for a few seconds before clearing his throat and trying again.

"Um… hi?" his voice is raspy and he moves a hand to massage his neck. "This… hurts."

"Ok, that's good, you did good. Don't overwork them. It'll take some time. I'm going to get something hot for you to eat. So, would you like tea, hot chocolate of something more consistent? Now that your throat is good to go, I think you can eat something solid." His whole face lights up at the chance of something to actually eat and she's happy that he's –more or less– forgotten about the fact that everyone that he ever knew is dead, at least for the moment.

Three days later, Steve wakes up complaining that his eyes hurt. It worries her, given that he's not one to complain. When she tries to open them to examine, he recoils in agony and she decides to give him one of the ski glasses to lower the light. He calms down, so she assumes it works.

"I know it hurts, Steve, but this is good! It means that you're regaining your eyesight. You're sensitive to the light because you've spent almost five days in complete darkness." Plus the almost seventy years that he spent on stasis, but she's not sure he's ready to talk about that just yet.

"Oh… ok. When do you think it'll go away, Doc?"

"I don't know, Cap; maybe a couple of hours, maybe a couple of days."

"I told you not to call me 'cap'."

"I told you not to call me 'doc'."

There's a second of silence before they both burst out laughing. Steve makes her feel so carefree, so normal, she already feels the ache in her chest knowing that, when the blizzard is over –and it looks like it'll be real soon–, she's going to have to disappear and she'll never see him again. Even more when her bosses find out that she hid the fact that she's been nursing Captain America –the person her trainers and her had been designed to destroy and kill– back to health. Furthermore, that she hid the fact that he'd been found at all.

Yeah… her career in the KGB will be finished much sooner than she'd planed. Oh, well…

"Nat? Are you there? Did you leave without telling me again?" she sees Steve moving his head around, as if he were trying to look around the room, but she knows it's to angle his ears to see if he can hear her. "Oh, there you are!" she laughs and reaches a hand to pat his arm.

"Sorry, just got lost in thought. What were you saying?"

he starts his story again, and soon she's laughing at what the Howling Commandos did when they weren't fighting at the front. The first time she'd pressed Steve to tell her about something from the 40's, his face had fallen slightly, but he'd started with something from his youth, and with Natasha's enthusiastic responses and the pleasant memories it brought back, he continued with another, and then another one.

"They may be gone, but that doesn't mean their memory is. The world remembers them as heroes, but to you they were just men, fighting the same war you were. That's what's most important."

Today's the day. Yesterday the blizzard had passed and they had managed to make contact with the team's bosses and it had been decided that a jet would come to extract them. They feared that another blizzard would strike and the higher ups weren't willing to take the chances. In a few hours, a plane would come, they would pack the equipment and they would leave. Glòria had informed the bosses of their most remarkable finding, and it hadn't been fifteen minutes into the conversation that it had been intercepted by none other than SHIELD's Director, Nicholas Fury. The man had been adamant that the subject wasn't to be breached again until they were on American soil, so the team leader had finished her briefing and ended the call.

Steve is currently helping her pack the medical equipment. He recovered his sight two days ago and now is able to see and not burn his eyes without the aid of the ski glasses. They work in companionable silence, he hums a song from the 40's, and she adapts some ballet moves to the rhythm as she moves boxes from one side to the other and sets the saline and blood bags into a portable cooler.

"What do you think the Director of SHIELD wants with me?" asks Steve suddenly, and Natasha pauses mid step before continuing.

"He probably wants to recruit you."

"Hmm… I hadn't thought of that."

"Understandable, your brain must still be half frozen." Her voice is teasing, and Steve answers with a fake laugh.

"You're hilarious." He closes a box and slaps a big piece of tape over it. "Ok, that's the last one." He moves it to the pile at the side and waits as Natasha sets hers beside it. "Now what?"

"Now we wait."

They don't have to wait long, merely an hour later the jet lands and a dozen of muscled men and women start loading the equipment into the plane. Due to Director Fury's order in keeping Steve a secret, they have to wait until everybody of the loading team is already inside the loading bay to sneak him in the cockpit. There's a little VIP area separated from the pilots where the scientists are already waiting, and he seats himself in the seat that's less probable that the pilots will see him if they enter the cabin. Natasha takes the seat next to his before anyone else has a chance to do so. Glòria glares at her and the brothers pout, but she ignores them in order to instruct Steve in the wonders of the smartphone.

When they land in DC, they have to wait until everyone leaves to go themselves and when they do, Director Fury is there. The scientist branch off towards the lab, and Natasha goes with them; she doesn't know if Fury will recognize her, but better be safe than sorry. She regrets not being able to say anything to Steve, but it'll have to be another one in her already overflowing list of regrets.

During the next month, she stays in the US, hiding away from the KGB –who had already sent four operatives to terminate her, none successful– and secretly keeping tabs on the good captain. She knows he'd asked around for her, but she's good at what she does, there's no trace he can follow. Last week she'd seen him sketching her and he'd gone into the Triskelion to run her through the database. He hadn't asked again. She doesn't know what to make of it.

When the assassins stop coming –or stop being able to find her– she says goodbye to the States and travels the world, terminating key operatives and operations and finally to Russia, where she shuts down her training center –something she'd wanted to do since the first year she got there– and finally, when she knows the KGB is scrambling, trying to pick up the shattered pieces of their association, she does what she does best.

She disappears.

Natasha sighs as she opens the door to her apartment in Greece. She's been here for the past six months, and although this new life she's created is nice and the old couple that have taken her in into their workshop are perfect, she misses the thrill of her old life. Not the killing part, but the adrenalin, the high of a job well done.

She drops her key into the little bow by the door and toes off her sneakers, stretching like a cat. Her spine gives a series of satisfyingly loud pops and she moans in relief. Next time she'll have to listen to Agatha when the woman tells her to stretch out every once in a while instead of being bend over an engine all morning.

The air shifts and she's suddenly alert, freezing in place for a second before lowering her arms and slipping her tactical knife from it's hiding place. She grips it tightly in her hand as she walks calmly into her kitchen, switching the lights on and humming one of the Greek folk songs Adrian usually sings as he works. She goes about in the kitchen, keeping the knife hidden and when she sees something shift in the doorway to the living room, she spins around and hurls the knife through the air. It nicks the intruders cheek and imbeds itself into the wood. When she finally gets a good look at him, she almost gasps.

"Steve?"

His eyes are wide open, and so is his mouth. A drop of blood trickles down his cheek from the shallow cut she's give him and his hands are raised slightly. He looks good, dressed in jeans and a grey button up.

"Wow…" he mutters, lowering his hands and wiping the blood from his face. "Fury told me to be careful but I hadn't thought you'd actually try to kill me." She snorts and walks towards him, backing him into the doorway. She smirks.

"If I wanted you dead, Rogers, you would be." She grabs the knife and steps back. He blushes, and she's pleased to know that the 21st century hasn't killed that innocence he had. She cleans the knife; the almost imperceptible line of blood in the edge is making her more uncomfortable than she'd like to admit. "What are you doing here, Steve?"

"I've been searching for you." The shy voice pulls at her heartstrings, and she puts on her Black Widow mask. She left without a word for a reason.

"I know. What I don't know is why you're still doing it. You know who I am; you know what I've done and what I do."

"I needed answers." She walks past him into the living room and sits on the couch, motioning the other side.

"Ask away." He takes the seat and waits a few seconds before starting.

"Fury told me you're a spy, an assassin specifically trained to kill me." She hides the grimace before he can see it, she'd hopped that no one outside of the KGB and the Red Room knew about that. She nods, signaling him to continue. "And that you were there to spy on the scientists, correct?" more nodding. "So why didn't you kill me? Why didn't you inform your superiors about me?" she observes him for a few seconds, taking in the set of his jaw and the crease between his brows.

"If you know about the Red Room's actual purpose, the you must know that my training there started when I was seven, just after I became an orphan." He nods, the pained expression of sincere sympathy makes her want to just stop, drug him and run away again, make it more difficult for him to find her again. However, she continues. "Almost two years ago I found out that the same people that raised me, that made me into what I am, are the same people that killed my parents." Steve actually gasps. "It made revalue everything I've done, so I started screwing them over in every way I could without making it too obvious."

"Are you the one that killed all those KGB agents all over the world?" she chuckles, eyeing Steve as he fidgets.

"I stopped enjoying killing a long time ago, but I'm actually proud of those. They were all scum, so don't worry, I didn't leave any kid without a parent, at least one they would miss."

They fall into a strangely comfortable silence, and although she content to just let it stretch, she can see that Steve is getting antsy, as if there's something bothering him and he doesn't know what to do about it. She's about to ask when he gets up and faces her, extending a hand towards her

"Come back with me." She blinks at him, surprised.

"Huh?"

"Come back with me to the States. Fury said that if you were willing to share information about the KGB, he'd pull some strings so you could come work at SHIELD. You've never done anything to target the US specifically, so he said it would be easy."

She stares at the offered hand for a long time. If she's honest, the offer really is tempting. New start, further sinking the association that destroyed her life and made her into what she is now –an assassin, a killer–, a job that will bring the adrenalin she's craving but without the guilt of the blood of a new target in her hands; besides, she'll get to see Steve again, maybe even on a regular basis. Win-win. Or is it win-win-win-win? Whatever.

But, it'll also mean that she'll leave this little heaven she's made for herself. She'll have to leave Agatha and Adrien behind, their little workshop and her apartment. This is the first time somewhere actually feels like home since… well, since forever. She's a little unwilling to give it up.

So, she decides to compromise. She sets her hand over Steve's, but as he's about to pull her to her feet, she tugs towards her to stop him. He looks at her, confused, and she gives him a small, sincere smile.

"Can you give me a few weeks?" he still looks confused, but nods, nonetheless. She's saying yes, but not just yet. Soon. "I'll come to you, ok?" she squeezes his hand and he finally smiles, returning the squeeze.

"Ok."

BONUS:

When she walks into the Triskelion two weeks later, it only takes the agents two minutes before they recognize her and all the guns in the lobby are trained on her, the security team following along. She suppresses a smirk as she eyes them, and she's already formulating the third scape plan by they time they shout for her to drop her weapons. She moves slowly, setting first her two guns on the ground, followed by three knives, the garrote and the extendable batons. She lays it all on a row on the floor in front of her, and the eyes of the agent right before her almost bulge out of his scull.

She straightens and raises her hands to her shoulders, cocks her hip to the side and raises a brow to the man.

"I would like to speak with Captain Rogers, please? Be a dear and bring him here, will you?" the guy bristles and disengages the security lock in his gun.

"Agent, stand down!" the deep voice draws the attention of everyone in the room, and half of the lower agents gasp at the sight of Director Fury himself step forward and face the Russian assassin. He raises his brow at the weapons spread at her feet and looks back up at her.

"Those really all your weapons?" she snorts and smirks.

"Of course not." All the guns, which had started to lower with the director's presence come back up in an instant, and it makes her chuckle. "You really expect to give them all away?"

"I'd be disappointed if you had. Rogers came back with interesting news, something about all the Russian bodies dropping around the world being your doing?" she hums absentmindedly, the smirk still in place. Fury rolls his eyes –eye– and huffs. "C'mon, Rogers' in my office, we can talk business there." She motions for her guns and he nods. Before the astonished gazes of twenty agents, the most dangerous assassin of the globe picks up her weapons, tucks them into her clothing and steps to their directors side, walking calmly to the elevator.

And when she sees Steve's smile light up his face as soon as he sees her, she knows that she's made the right call, if not for them, then for her future.

So? What do you think? Good, bad? Perfect, unreadable? Give me something, people!

About the thing about the Red Room being a training ground to defeat Captain America: I don't know if it's true –if it is, tell me–, but I took it from a really awesome fic in Ao3. I don't remember what it was about, but in the summary there's Hill telling Steve that Nat was trained to destroy him. If somebody knows of the one I'm talking about, please tell me, I would really love to read it again and if the 'training to kill Captain America' is their thing, the to give them the credit they deserve.

Thank you all for reading, and the next one will involve 5-year-olds, make of that whatever you want ;P. Till next time, lovers!