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The man I once knew staring back at me

Since he'd been awoken from cryo remembering her and knowing that she'd helped him, he'd tried to learn as much as he could from his teammates about her. It wasn't much. He'd optimistically started the list on a new page in one of his journals:

Natasha Romanoff

· Stealthy – can get into or out of any situation

· Cool under pressure

· Great in a fight

· Loves bad jokes

· Friendly but doesn't share personal life

It had become clear, from his casual questioning, that he might already know more about her than anyone else. He didn't think she'd like that. Barton was the only one who knew anything about her past in the Red Room – Steve had heard of it, knew a story or two from then. They all knew she was a former Russian spy, but even with all SHIELD's secrets available, there wasn't much to be gleaned about her. Nothing that would help him figure her out, anyway.

So sitting across from her in a café in Odessa, watching her enjoy пташине молоко - ptashyne moloko – with unfeigned pleasure was possibly more than he could handle.

"You should try it," she told him with a smile.

He looked at the candies for a long moment, then picked one up carefully in his ungloved right hand. It was clear that she was amused by his reaction. The awkwardness had dissipated while they had eaten, since food was a relatively safe subject for them to discuss. He could read the menu but didn't know what most of it meant – his diet with HYDRA hadn't exactly been expansive. So she'd been happy to help him pick what to eat.

"You didn't get any of these from your former employers, either?" she teased.

A rueful smile crossed his face after he took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. "You know, I'm as surprised as you are. I can't imagine why they would have kept something so delicious from me."

Then she did something surprising – she laughed. He almost choked at the sound. Steve had said she liked to make bad jokes, but no one had mentioned her laughter. Or perhaps they just didn't think it was important. In their previous … interactions, he couldn't remember there being much joviality, though they'd certainly gotten along well. But her whole face lit up with the laugh and the thought that he was the one who caused it sort of made his brain skitter to a stop.

"Hey, Barnes, you with me?" she asked, somewhat concerned.

He swallowed. "Yeah, just – uh – not used to things being this sweet."

Nodding, she glanced past him and he would have thought she was nervous if he didn't know better. Natasha Romanoff, world-class spy, nervous at a simple dinner? Ridiculous. No one had ever seen such a thing in much more dire situations. Even accounting for the fact that he'd gotten close to killing her a few times before – she could hardly be worried about that.

"We should go somewhere to talk," she said suddenly, quietly.

His heart raced. Did she remember everything? Was she going to tell him to back off, to stay away from her and not mention it? Or, possibly more terrifying, the opposite? What would he say? He had known her once, but they were both different people then. He understood that, but it didn't deter him from wanting to know her better. At some point in the last few months, he'd decided that, whatever she was comfortable with, he would be happy to do. But now that she was actually there, sitting across from him, he was thinking he'd be very relieved to get on that plane back to Steve.

"Okay," he answered, mouth dry. Using his left hand because the fingers wouldn't tremble, he paid for their meal and then followed her toward the street.

She walked slowly, meandering, until he'd caught up. Then she moved with a little more purpose. They made their way around several blocks, backtracking and changing direction suddenly until she stopped at a doorway. He was thoroughly lost and didn't know if that was the desired effect or if she'd been shaking a tail. Producing a lock-picking kit from the pocket of her coat, she set to work on the door. He shifted his weight, glancing up and down the dark street to see if they were being observed.

It didn't take long for her to get the door open. Once they were inside, she stepped around him to slide several deadbolts into place. It was clearly a safe house – it looked like it hadn't been used in a long time. The furniture was sparse, unlike the arsenal the covered the wall to his left. He stared at it in surprise.

"It's good to be prepared," she explained lightly, aware of where he was looking.

He glanced at her with a smile and watched as she used her phone to scan the two rooms – three if you counted the bathroom. Whatever she saw was apparently satisfactory, because she dropped onto the couch and pulled a laptop out of her bag. She inserted the drive he'd given her and then patted the seat next to her invitingly, though she didn't quite look at him.

With some hesitation, he joined her on the couch. Computers were not his forte and he wanted to ask her what she was doing, but didn't want to interrupt.

"A few months ago, the scientist I was escorting got captured by this man," she said without preamble, pointing to a photo that suddenly popped up. He could feel her eyes on him so he looked carefully.

"I think I know him," he told her slowly.

"Aleksander Lukin. Took over Department X after Karpov was, hm, let go."

Her explanation was matter-of-fact. He had thought the Red Room was part of that department, and would have expected more emotion from her when referring to it. So maybe he was wrong about that. Maybe he was wrong about all of it – maybe it was a completely different woman he'd known, or maybe there had been no woman at all. Just one of their tricks.

"Hey, Barnes, come back."

"Sorry," he muttered, clenching his hands together.

He didn't look up at her, focusing instead on the computer even though he could tell she was still looking at him. "There was a woman there, a very dangerous one. When he and the rest of his people were put in custody, she got away."

"Who put them in custody?" he wondered aloud, unaware that she had that kind of pull.

"Technically? Sharon Carter."

"Steve's girl?"

Natasha snorted, possibly amused. "Yes. Steve's girl. How did you know about that?"

Realizing he might have overstepped, he pressed his lips together while considering a response.

"I'm not going to get her in trouble," she told him gently, clearly able to read his concern.

He glanced up at her then away. "Yeah, okay. She gave him his shield back after we escaped. Then he – uh – thanked her in a way that – uh – implied they were close," he stumbled through.

"Did he kiss her?" she asked sharply enough that he wondered if Steve had misread the situation between him and Romanoff.

"Yes."

The grin on her face removed his doubt and he smiled back. "Good for him. He doesn't act on what he wants often enough."

Her insight into his generally closed-off best friend was reassuring. He was glad to hear that Steve had friends who understood him in the future. "That's Steve," he agreed, settling back against the dusty cushions.

She looked like she wanted to pursue that comment, but turned back to her computer instead. "So, I'm trying to track down this woman. She's almost as much of a ghost as you were all those years. I think she has some of your training and could use some backup on this. I was going to ask Clint, but, since he's busy…" Trailing off, she kept her gaze fixed on the image of Lukin on the screen and he could tell she was tense.

"Natalia," he began but was tongue-tied when she looked up at him. Her expression was intentionally unreadable and he had no idea what she was thinking. Clearing his throat, he forced himself to continue before it got awkward again. "Steve expects me back by morning." An almost imperceptible change came over her face and he thought she might be disappointed. "But I could talk to him about staying," he added.

"I'd hate to tear you away from anything," she replied quietly, standing up.

He stood as well, and suddenly the thought of leaving was scarier than staying – when would he ever see her again? "I'm usually redundant on missions. They won't miss me," he hastened to add.

When she looked up at him, there was just the hint of relief on her face. Was she that worried about the mission – or was it something else? Maybe she didn't want him to leave so soon, either?

"Thank you. So, only one bed. Should we flip for it?"

He wasn't going to guess what her teasing might mean. "I'll be fine on the couch," he said quickly.

"Suit yourself. Goodnight, James," she added, glancing over her shoulder before disappearing into the bedroom.

What had he gotten himself into? Sitting back down, he opened his bag and pulled out his notebook – most of them were in a safety deposit box in Bucharest, but he always kept one nearby. Turning to the page with Natasha's name on it, he smiled a little and added onto it:

· Likes ptashyne moloko

· Takes care of her friends

Then he settled in and hoped he could calm down enough to sleep – he had a feeling tomorrow was going to be busy.