A/N: Final chapter! Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, favorited, and followed! I don't have a sequel in the works at the moment, but I imagine I'll get around to one in the next few months :) Enjoy!
Things just can't stay the same
She had been raised to kill people. To slip easily into a crowd, to take out a target, to return to her handlers. She had been taught to trust no one except her masters, to never look for friendship or company in her life. To see everyone as a threat. And she had learned the lesson well. Until she'd grown to understand that living like that wasn't really living.
Yelena was right – she had grown soft. But that wasn't a bad thing. Maybe Yelena could learn it herself. If not, well, at least she was unlikely to be working for Madame B or Lukin again. And another freelance assassin wasn't that much of a threat. Even if she had been trained the same way, she was no Black Widow.
It was a risk, leaving her there. But her options were limited these days. She didn't want to kill her, and turning her into the authorities was unlikely to be effective without any specific proof of why she needed to be locked up. Or maybe that was just an excuse because she didn't want one of the few people with whom she had anything in common rotting away in a jail cell.
So, this would work. She had to believe it would. At least for now. Once outside the damaged refinery, she stood amid the destruction and stared at the way the light from the fires played across the snow. What was she going to do now?
Barnes was waiting for her. He'd wanted to help her, and that was a rare trait to find in someone. Whether he remembered their history or not seemed irrelevant – he was clearly taken with her regardless of what might have happened before. And now she had to make a choice. If she wanted to see him again, she had to see Steve. If she wanted to work with Steve, she had to see Barnes. So the easiest solution was just avoiding both of them. But maybe she was getting tired of being alone. And Yelena was certainly a good example of what happened to a person like her if she never let anyone in.
So when he told her where they were relocating, she made up her mind. As she'd told Steve all those months ago, staying together was more important than how they stayed together. She was willing to forgive him for making her life more difficult lately, for escalating things with Stark. She'd forgive Stark, too, if he showed any interest in inviting her back. But that looked like it would have to wait.
It wasn't convenient to stop by her parents' graves on the way, but she felt it necessary. There were so many questions she wanted to ask them, about who they were, what they stood for, why they'd sent her to the Red Room, what they'd hoped for her. If she had a predilection for becoming an assassin or if it was just something the Red Room had made of her. There weren't any answers and she stared at the stones for a long time. Who would she have been if she'd stayed with them?
She was never the kind of person to dwell on what ifs, so she didn't linger. Once she was at a respectful distance, she called Barnes. She'd thought about calling Steve or Clint. But… she'd rather hear his voice than anyone else's. His surprise was evident, as was his concern about her. It was endearing and she was glad to have called, particularly when he called her Natalia to the others. Maybe it shouldn't have meant as much as it did, but she spent the journey considering exactly what she was going to say to him.
Clint answered the door when she arrived. There was no reason for that to be disappointing, so she pushed that feeling aside and was truly glad to see him. They talked and were soon joined by Wanda. Then Sam and James came around the corner. It was hard to look at anyone else but him, while trying to get a read on how he felt about her being here. On how he might react to what she had to say.
Dinner was a pleasant affair and she tried to focus on how nice it was to be surrounded by friendly faces again. Sometimes she was successful, sometimes not. When it was over, Clint wanted to talk to her and she couldn't say no. They talked outside about mission particulars and how things had gone in South America for him, and in Europe and Russia for her. It was normal, the kind of conversation she'd with him many times. So hiding her impatience shouldn't have been so much of a challenge.
Clint said goodnight and went inside, and she sat down to think. If she wanted to talk to Barnes alone, this was a good spot. But how to get him to come outside? Thinking about that was a nice diversion from worrying over what she would say, and that's what she was doing when it turned out she didn't need a plan. He just came out to talk to her by himself.
"Hey," he said and she was pained to see he was uncertain of his welcome.
"James, hey," she replied warmly. When he sat down next to her, she found it very difficult to focus. Especially when he said her name. So she forced herself to speak, and was a little surprised by her own honesty. But, despite everything, she was happy that forces had conspired to bring them together again. There was no way she would ever have found him when he was hiding out, and she doubted she would have ever been willing to approach him at some later date if Clint had sent someone else.
He was hanging on her every word and it was hard to look him in the eye. But she finally drummed up the courage to ask him what she'd been wanting to ask him since she'd sat down across from him at that café in Odessa.
"I remember everything, Natalia, and you were the one good thing in all of it," he told her earnestly, taking her hand.
With some shock she realized she was blushing, but she couldn't look away. "James, I," she tried.
His thumb ran along her palm in a way that really shouldn't have been so distracting, but was. "I've missed you, Natalia. For years," he murmured.
She was very aware of how close he was, of his scent and the way he was looking at her, but had no idea how to genuinely react to those things. When she was undercover, well, that was completely different. "I've missed you, too," she whispered.
Releasing her, he lifted his hand to gently cup her cheek and tilt her head up. Then he stopped and she waited half a second before leaning forward to kiss him. His response was immediate and intense, pulling her against him like he was drowning and she alone could save him. It was familiar and new all at the same time, and she could hardly keep up.
"James," she gasped when she got the chance.
"Natalia," he growled against her throat.
"Do you, uh, want to go inside?" she soldiered on, and he chuckled. "The house, James," she clarified.
She was in his lap by this point, so was pretty aware of what he wanted. What they both wanted. "If you do," he replied softly, pressing a kiss to her shoulder and sitting back to regard her.
His tone made her pause to consider. "Do you?" she asked.
"Yes. But, Natalia… I don't want it to be like before," he told her firmly.
She thought about how easy sneaking around with him would be, and how complicated it would be to share this, whatever it was, with everyone. Well, maybe it wouldn't be easy, per se, but they'd managed it in a house full of spies and assassins before. So this shouldn't be any more difficult. But if it wasn't what he wanted, she understood. And maybe he was right.
"How do you want it to be?"
That gave him pause, and he ran his fingers lightly across her back while he considered. "I don't know. But I love you, Natalia, and I don't want to have to wait until everyone's backs are turned to act like it."
"You… love me?" That he liked her was obvious, but she hadn't thought, hadn't expected, his feelings to be quite so strong already. They'd only really known each other, what, a week? Two?
"Yes," he murmured, touching her face. She noticed that he didn't really use his left hand to touch her unless it was necessary and was struck with the desire to show him it didn't bother her.
Slowly, she got to her feet and held out her hand. "Come on, James." He obligingly stood as well, and she led the way to her room, which was fortunately on the other side of the house from the others. Steve knew her pretty well, after all. Not that he could have envisioned this particular reason when considering her preference for privacy…
They spent more time talking than she really expected, but she didn't mind. It was a lot like before – without anyone else to trust, they had talked a lot in the Red Room as well. Not that all they did was talk, of course. She woke up very content to be wrapped in nothing but a sheet and his arms. He was still asleep and she nestled against him with a sigh. Even if the thought of telling anyone terrified her (a result of what happened last time, not anything based on logic), she was willing to do it. Because they both had enough secrets weighing them down.
She was planning on bringing something up at breakfast, maybe start out with an innocent observation that there was a spare bedroom, and then go from there. She didn't know if she should mention that they knew each other before or not. Maybe not right away. That would take the conversation from pleasant to questioning why she'd never told anyone, Steve in particular, before now.
But that wasn't how it worked out because Sam knocked at her door shortly after she woke up. "Hey, have you seen Barnes? He's not in his room and Steve's a little worried," he called through the door.
"Bozhe moi," she muttered, apparently loud enough to wake James. His first response was to pull her closer, which was sweet but not particularly helpful. "Get up," she hissed. "They're looking for you," was the necessary addition when he was about to take that statement a different way.
"Natasha?" Sam tried again, sounding worried.
"Yeah, just a sec," she called, jumping out of bed and searching for her clothes. God, how did her bra end up on the ceiling fan? James was getting dressed with a little more success, and quietly made the bed look less like it had been used quite so thoroughly.
"Look, if you haven't seen him, I can go." He sounded confused and more than a little uncomfortable.
James looked at her expectantly and she gave him a frown. "This wasn't how I pictured this," she grumbled and he grinned at her. "I have, actually," she directed to Sam as she walked over and opened the door.
He glanced past her to see James sitting on her bed, blinked, then started laughing. "That's cold, Nat. I thought we had something special," he joked, shaking his head. "Hey, Steve! I found him!"
It was far too little a time before Steve rounded the corner and looked significantly more dumbfounded than Sam had. "Well. That's not what I expected," he said slowly, glancing from one to the other. "Kinda explains some things, though. How long as this been going on?"
The question was almost official-sounding. "A long time, Steve. A very long time," she told him seriously. Both Sam and James stopped grinning and Steve looked at her hard. "In the Red Room."
"I see," Steve said quietly.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you before. I just… I didn't know who he was then."
"It's not her fault, Steve. After what they did to punish us, I'm sure she never wanted to talk about it again. And I didn't want to tell you before she did," James explained.
It was a lot to take in, and she felt a little sorry for him. But it was a pleasant feeling to have all the cards on the table. James stood up and joined her in the doorway, taking her hand gently. It made Steve stare and Sam looked like he wanted to excuse himself.
"Alright," Steve said at last. "Alright, I get it." He looked at Sam. "There any big secrets you need to get off your chest?"
"Not that I can think of."
"Good, let's go get breakfast." He shot them a hesitant smile before he turned and headed for the kitchen. Sam shook his head at them in mock-disappointment before following suit.
James turned to face her. "You didn't have to do that."
"I know. I wanted to," she replied simply.
Smiling slightly, he leaned down to kiss her forehead. "I'm starving," he admitted, and she giggled.
"I can't imagine why," was her dry response.
"Wait," he said when she started forward.
Confused, she stopped to look at him. "For what?"
Catching up to her, he kissed her very thoroughly. "For that," he explained softly, still holding her close.
"Let's eat fast," she suggested and he laughed.
"I like the way you think."
