{4}

There are storms you can never seem to outrun. Fighting to break out of his mundane, Barry took a deep and shaky breath; willing his mind way from the ridges of memory. Drenched and shivering against feverish chills, he stood in front of Steve's apartment's door; he allowed his passive gray eyes to drift over the darkened area and dug into the pocket of his jeans and removed a key. Silently, he unlocked the door and slipped through the doorway.

Suddenly, he was assaulted by the recurrence of intense images that had invaded his tortured mind. Nevertheless, Barry felt utterly despondent and vulnerable. Every sacrifice he had endured through the trials of being Central City's hero caused greater lost.

It was the price.

There was no easy way out of the gale forces he had tried to escape from. Barry was entering a dead pass -his choices and heroics were no longer a ease of victory, but a heavy burden that seemed to drain the strength and mind. It was a horrible and dangerous game that he played with the metahumans and the hidden truth of what really happened that night of the explosion -that defining moment when the lightning struck him and transformed him into something that maybe believed was impossible—the Flash—the fastest man alive who raced through time and fought darkness bonding into hearts of humanity. Although, Barry would never admit it, he was growing weak, and it wasn't the aftermath effects of the bullet. It was something deeper.

There were tantalizing fragments of memory, weaved into knotted threads of guilt. They surrounded him. Dark phantoms. Gravestones. A encroaching storm. Red and intense bolts of lightning devouring the sky and emerging from every chasm. Each one struck him hard. Agony flooded into his veins and thundered rattled through the dark storm front powerful and deafening. His heart. Running. Running faster through the red haze of rain, struggling to fight the pain, struggling to find his way back home.

Desperation rattled through his bones and he saw the shattered reflections of the man in yellow—the Reverse Flash emerging out of the jagged pieces and reaching to drag him into the vortex. And no matter how much he fought. There was no way out. Everything was distorted, as he caught a glimpse of his mother screaming in the middle of the violent tempest.

Nora was calling out his name to save her before the knife pierced her heart. Failure. Dread. He felt numb as crystalline fractals spread through his body, as mirror shards merged, encasing him into a prison of dark imagery. He was crying, surrendering. He saw death claim his mother-the yellow streak of energy devour her. She was gone.

One choice. Whether good or bad can change your life forever...The question is will you chase the darkness and run back into the light?

He hadn't tested his speed force for almost twenty-four hours. Every time he felt the surge of energy skim into his blood and make his heart accelerate faster, the throbbing pain had yanked him off balance and forced him to feel weakness. The weakness of a defeated soldier wounded by his failures and hardened guilt. Some part of him, felt used like a puppet on strings or a caged hamster on a wheel who was forced to run over and over until he felt the burn out. In reality, he was a slave to Harrison Wells obsession of kinetic energy and the principles of challenging laws of physics. Maybe it was best for him to say in Washington, train with Steve and the rest of the Avengers. He had made the choice to run in order to spare the lives of his city—he was unsure if he was a milquetoast-a coward- or a hero of sacrifice.

Shaking off remnants of betraying betraying emotions, Barry dragged his muscled form across the kitchen with slow, somber and unrushed steps. He felt useless. Taking little effort, he opened the fridge door, grabbing a water bottle off a shelf. Twisting the cap off, he drained the bottle, and crushed the plastic into a ball, throwing it carelessly into the trash can across from him. Tension made his jaw flex, his teeth grinding. "Just who am I supposed to become?" he questioned under his breath and felt degraded by his mistakes.

"Did you ask permission to raid Captain America's fridge, kid?" Alarmed by the sultry tone echoing in the shadows. Barry blinked the fog of grayness out of his eyes. He turned slightly around and stared at the intruder. At first his hand clenched into a fist until he spared a glance of vibrant red. And there she was the infamous Soviet operative who had defected from the Black Widow programming of Department X—the great weaver of identities—Natalia "Natasha" Alianovna Romanova.

She was sitting at the rounded oak table, sipping a cup of coffee with her toned legs crossed. She was dangerous, beautiful and alluring. Long scarlet ringlets of hair framed her pale face and draped over her trim shoulders, sharp features and he watched her full lips curve into a dark smirk of uncompromising malevolence.

Barry caught a glance of her choice of practical and yet effective attire. Black and flawless leather. A deep maroon top with a V that revealed a faint peek of skin was underneath her half-zipped jacket, and curves smug in the stiff denim of her jeans. She wasn't holding back any of her brazen snark. Her grayish eyes gleamed as she met his widened blue eyes. He felt the world tilt around him. "Wait," Natasha spoke with as her memories recessed. "Are you that kid in the red suit who Steve picked up at the Lincoln Memorial?"

Intimated by her presence, Barry felt a weak smirk slanting his lips as he answered her invasive question. "Yeah. Although I don't remember the car ride," he returned, with a sheepish almost hesitant pitch in his rough voice. Causally, he shrugged his shoulders, trying to relax and show no signs of anxiousness. A cool expression plastered over his chiseled and ashen features and then realization dawned on him-the master assassin and lethal combatant was one of Steve's closest partners and hard core Avenger. He accepted her trust with a bit of hesitation.

In truth, he was almost in aghast at how poise and collective she seemed to a complete stranger. He took a moment, and drew out a shaky exhale. "Everything that transpired in the last few days still seems like a blur. I remember running after getting shot," he felt the words halt in his chest, and his brows creased into a perplexed scrunch. "...and waking up in Captain America's apartment."

Natasha leveled her curious gaze at his trim and sculpted abdomen, access droplets of rain water dripped over the creases of firm muscle under his dark blue shirt, Barry shifted uncomfortably, and leaned against the granite counter. He pressed his palm flat against the edge. It was obvious that he was nervous under her shadowy presence. A crush was weariness forced him to meet her beautiful eyes. He saw the obscurity of pain trapped beyond the green and teal swirls of her guarded stare. She smirked a little, giving him a glimpse of her hidden emotions. "I have a question for you, kid. You can answer it when you feel comfortable, but then if you don't answer it how will I know that you can be trusted and not cause harm to Steve Rogers..."

This was utterly unbelievable. Barry kept his distance, now engaged in a stare-down with Natasha, and he choked up a breath. "Listen," he spoke, sternly, and inched closer to her with purposeful and driven stride, much like the imposing movements of super-soldier. Natasha was having a difficult time not to break her focus from him. Swallowing down a breath, Barry felt a relieve pulse course in his system-a jump start of ignition. She was there to distract him from the nightmares. Probably when he was jogging, Steve called her to watch him while the captain was doing a mission with the Avengers. Feeling calm for the first time in days, Barry looked steady into her eyes, he felt the heat erupting in his veins. She could sense his vulnerability and distress. She had in trapped in her web, a young man pure and innocent. In other words, he was the Black Widow's prey.

Barry searched in her darkened eyes before he spoke out a promise, "I will never hurt Steve Rogers. He saved my life and I will return the favor if he ever needs me to make that sacrifice," He didn't avert his gray eyes from unpredictable red haired spy. He stepped closer, and whispered in a gentle tone. "You can trust me because I know what betrayal of a friend feels like and pain. It has become a part of my life ever since I watched my mother..." He trailed off, turning his head away. "It doesn't matter what you believe. Just know that Steve is my friend."

She furrowed her eyebrows. "...Is that the honest truth, Barry Allen?" she asked, her voice tight.

"Yes. That is the honest truth. It's all I have to say in the matter, Miss Romanova," Barry returned somberly, with a faint smile beaming over his face. Apparently, he was considered a threat, he had to assure Natasha that he was nothing of the sort, but a good kid searching for a lot of answers of his stolen past. The spy looked like she cared about the details of his circumstance, just to have a clear understanding of the main reason he decided to befriend the super-soldier. He looked so timid...Unsure. Lost. Natasha wasn't use to see a confident and humble young man trapped in the interwoven shadows of regret.

She had experiences in the Red Room, but most of the soldiers had altered minds to reveal little emotions; Barry on the other hand carried everything with him. It was almost like, he absorbed other people's pain, and give them a chance to feel again. It was gift that wasn't created from a bottle or DNA enhancing chemical. And Natasha controlled the urge to assault him with a her carnal hunger when her eyes swept over the fullness of his inviting lips.

Thoughts were fleeting and heart pounding faster in his chest. They were meeting the other on equal terms of trust. "Look, you don't know me enough to judge me." he countered as edge crept in his voice. " I consider Captain Rogers as my greatest childhood hero and fiend. Sometimes that all we need to have as strength in desperate times. I learned through experiences that when you have someone watching your back...You can do the impossible." He paused momentarily, inspecting her distant emotions, and then he dropped his eyes to the floor as he added, "So why would I risk that, Miss Romanova?"

Natasha nodded, "I know Steve trusts you. He sees something of worth that resides in you, Allen. I never question Steve's instincts. He knows when there is a good man in darkness waiting to be pulled back into the light." She stood onto her spiked heels, and closed the distance between them. "You're very lucky to have Captain America as your friend...Not the mention, you are very cute."

Feeling warmth blossom under his cheek, Barry's face flushed. The storm inside him subsided and he stepped back. "I didn't realize the Black Widow..." He cleared his throat, a touch of dizziness washed over him. And he became unbalanced. Breath came out short, as she gripped his wrist, preventing him from stumbling and he felt blood rushing downwards as he continued to stare at her. Eyebrows raised and his eyes grew brighter-almost the same color of Steve's light azure eyes. A wry and heaved laugh managed to escape from his lips. He felt steady again. "What I was trying to say..." He was completely lost from words and the intoxicating fragrance that wavered off her skin made him feel bizarrely enslaved by her. He needed to think of a simple distraction to tame the urges that had threatened to consume his chivalrous nature. "Would you like a milkshake?" he asked, breathing easier. "It doesn't take me long to whip up one. Just tell me what you want-want blend with the ice cream?" he stammered.

"Relax, kid," Natasha smirked, lightly. She looked down at her Starkphone. "Steve is on his way. He's bringing pizza. Four boxes."

Barry leaned back against the wall with a heaving sigh of relief. "Steve already knew that you in his apartment?" he asked, unsettled. Natasha nodded and waltzed right pass him and opened the fridge. After long moments of watching her gathering cans of ice tea from a shelf, a calming sense returned. He straightened his posture, and settled his eyes at her. "Look, Miss Romanova, I didn't mean to react to you like that...It was just because I'm..."

Natasha gave him a pointed look, reading his fractured expression. "Don't worry about it, Allen. It's how I like doing first impressions."

"Captain Rogers told me that you are SHEILD's lead interrogator...You know how to read people much like my surrogate father Joe does for the CCPD." he replied, biting down on his lip. "He always knows when someone is innocent even though the courts sentence them to prison. He believes that good can be found in people who consider themselves bad...He believes in second chances."

"Not everybody gets chances like that, Allen." Natasha said. She handed him a can of ice tea. "Your surrogate father sounds like a man who has lived a tough life."

"Joe was the one who put the handcuffs on my dad that night when my mom was murdered by a monster in a yellow suit." Barry confessed, opening the can open and took a large sip. "I spent most of my life trying to prove that my dad is innocent. I feel like I failed him...That I could of done something different and prevent the knife from entering her heart."

Natasha clicked her heels closer, and placed her hand on his tensed shoulder. "You know the real truth, Barry. One day it will be unmasked."

He looked up at her, uncertain how to react at first. In those moments, he remembered the hope he had once felt, commitment and pledge he created when he put on the mask and became a symbol of light to pierce the shadows, a symbol that represented everything good and impossible and he owed his father a chance of redemption while surviving and seeking out the truth, It had been his only purpose in fighting for justice, but now he was allowing his enemies to devour his existence and push him down until he was broken.

Inside, Barry was willing to fight and give it his all and endure the heavy costs. He was the Flash. A man that outrun evil and saved lives in a heart beat. "My dad told me once that the Flash is a hero that my city deserves. Sometimes he is unwanted and considered a scapegoat for the police to use when secrets need to be swept under a rug...He also said that he is proud of me and that it is a tough way to live, but someone has to make those choices when no one else can make."

Natasha smiled, faintly at his words, "Steve will help you overcome this pain. He knows what it's like to lose someone close to him...He can train you to fight against the grief-"

The door opened and Steve walked inside, soaked and disheveled. His broad arms held four cardboard boxes of steaming hot pizza. "Sorry, I'm late," he spoke apologetically closing the door behind him. He removed his baseball cap, mussed blonde hair stuck to his forehead and his crystal azure eyes became fixed on Natasha leaning against the fridge with Barry standing across from her.

"So what do you think of our new friend, Barry Allen?" he asked with a bright voice and cast a look at the disquieted young man locked in his view.

Natasha shot him an darkened glare. "He's a nice kid," she replied, winking at Barry, "Reminds me a lot of you, Rogers..."

Steve inhaled deeply and stared down at the pizza after he placed the boxes on the table in front of him. Feeling the weight of the responsibility to protect Barry had influx and overshadowed his own guilt of failing Bucky. Having the speedster as a friend gave him a new purpose to hold the shield and enter the crossfire...in a way he knew that Barry Allen was a saving grace to bring him back into the game and do his utmost to restore his brainwashed childhood friend from HYDRA's corruption even if the price became a high cost to pay.

"I'm glad you think so, Nat," Steve answered and he followed her gaze."When Barry is fully recovered I will be training him at the Avenger's Tower."

Barry felt like his heart jumped through his chest. He was bewildered. "Really?" he nearly choked, his eyes widened with excitement. "I'm going to learn how to fight with Captain America as my teacher?"

"Just the basics in hand to hand combat. I will teach everything I learned while under the command of SSR," Steve grounded out. "You will become stronger and we find a way to control your emotions while engaged in battle." He opened the box, and lifted a piece of pizza, the melted cheese was string as pieces of mushroom toppled off the slice. "Right now, we'll focus on getting your strength back."

"Tomorrow," Natasha reprimanded and she snagged a slice from the box. She flashed a smile at Barry who mirrored her mischievous sneer." "Both of you are going to have a litte race. Whoever loses must arm wrestle with Thor in front of the Avengers."

Steve stiffened his jaw, and then looked at Barry. He felt his stomach clench. "I've got no plans in the morning," he said firmly, taking a bite of the pizza.

Natasha brushed her lips hotly over Barry's smooth jaw and she whispered out a dare, "Whoever wins gets to a play a different game with me..."

He didn't say anything. Banishing all the inkling thralls of pain and took a quick bite of pizza. Swallowing down the chuck of thick cheese and bacon. He grimaced. Just please...Let me make out of this alive.