Maria filled Natasha in on what she had organised so far. Transport was all but finalised, and locations had been confirmed, for which Maria gave Natasha GPS coordinates. A refuge was in the works. Legal matters were beginning to be looked at. It would take more than twenty minutes, but Maria could get this sorted. Natasha would call her in twenty-seven hours, just before they were due to depart the safe house for further instruction.

"Don't do anything to make this worse. Stay where you are, and stay quiet. Go get some sleep."

"Yeah," Natasha looked at the pile of blankets which was Bucky. Part way through the phone call his breathing had changed, and Natasha guessed he had fallen asleep. "We'll be all right. Thanks."

"Bye."

"Bye," Natasha pried herself from the chair, left the phone on the card table, and shuffled into the bedroom. There was only the one double bed in the apartment, and though Steve took up two-thirds of it, there was room enough for her. Natasha pulled off her boots and hoodie, and slid in beside him.

The grey dim of dawn crept under the bedroom curtains when Natasha awoke. She propped herself up onto her elbows. Steve moaned softly and rolled over.

"Go back to sleep," Natasha whispered and brushed her lips against Steve's ear. Steve sat up with such a shock that he almost fell out of bed. Natasha laughed. "At ease, Cap!"

"Natasha! What the hell?"

Natasha laughed. "Sorry, Cap. I couldn't resist. Lie back down. I'll fix us breakfast."

"Why are you in my bed?"

"Well, there is only one bed, and Bucky has the couch, so…"

"Damn, Nat, you just about gave me a heart attack."

Natasha lay back down. "Well, a man your age…"

"What time did you come to bed?"

"Don't know. It was late. I got some answers. I'll explain it to you and Buck after breakfast."

Steve lay back down. Out of the bed, the air was freezing. Being this close to Natasha, in such a personal way, felt both awkward and comfortable at the same time. She was probably the only woman he'd feel comfortable sharing a bed with, but he would have appreciated it if she'd asked. "I've got a lot of question," Steve said.

"You can have three," Natasha said, "Then I'm making breakfast, which is SpaghettiO's, just so you don't have to waste one of your questions asking that."

"Right, great," Steve said.

"Ok, Cap," Natasha said, "Shoot."

Steve furrowed his brow; he had a lot more than three questions. Thirty would be closer. He adjusted his position. At least waking up so quickly made him alert. His body ached, but not as badly as he'd feared it might. "Why did you let us go? At the airport. You - you tasered T'Challa to let us escape."

"Because you were right, Steve. You're always right. But if I sided with you, I couldn't keep an eye out for you."

"But you fought Clint…"

"I know how to stop him without hurting him. Or, you know, hurting him badly, anyway."

"You were playing double agent? Wait - that's not one of my questions."

Natasha chuckled, "Ok, but I'll answer anyway. I wasn't playing anyone's agent, Cap. I went where I thought I could do the the least harm. But putting out fires is hard work when you and Stark keep pouring kerosene."

"You should have told me."

Natasha rolled onto her side and looked at Steve. Even beat-up, he looked damn good. "I should do a lot of things. Like yoga more often. Learn to speak Portuguese. Complete last year's tax return."

"Nat…"

"I have to protect myself first, so I can then protect everyone else."

Steve sighed, "Yeah I know."

"My first question," Natasha said, "Are you hurt?"

"Hurt?"

"I never really grilled you on it last night. Nothing broken or dislocated? Ribs, shoulders, hands, fingers, toes?"

"Sore, but not broken."

"Anything that should have stitches? Anything pulled or torn? Hamstrings, calves… you were limping last night."

"I'm sore Nat, and I won't deny it. But I've been worse. I'm ok. I'll be ok."

"Ok," Natasha said, deciding to take his word on it, "Your next question."

Steve thought for a moment. He had dozens of questions for Natasha, so to find just two more… "You trust Bucky."

"That sounded more like a statement."

Steve sighed, "Do you trust Bucky?"

"Yes," Natasha responded without hesitation. She looked at Steve. "I'm guessing you'd like me to elaborate?"

"If you wouldn't mind."

"It's easier to believe in a mindless monster than a trapped soul. It's easier to pretend he didn't recognise me, but he did. In Berlin, when he was - activated, or whatever that was, he still recognised me. That was when I knew he'd been in there all along. He only fought us because we were fighting him, and he was trying to fight it. But now, asleep on the couch? That guy? Yeah, I trust him. I trust his skills, his judgement, even if he doesn't. He may not be the Bucky you knew Steve, and I doubt he could be. When you know what it is to be stripped down like that, to have everything that makes you you taken away, again and again, and to know what it takes to come back, in any shape, and to still have some sort of integrity, yeah, I trust him. And he trusts you. And…" she hadn't meant to say so much, to lay her soul so bare. It didn't matter that this was Steve, or that her words would never leave this room, she just hadn't meant to say so much. To defend herself, she smirked. "Ok. Time for my next question."

"Ok," said Steve, still processing everything Natasha had said, and realising there was a still a lot of her past he didn't understand.

"How long had you known about Bucky and the Starks?"

Steve rolled onto his back and looked up at the ceiling. Paint was peeling in the corner, and there was a thin crack running along it. "Bucky told you?"

"Yep," Natasha said. "We had a little chat last night."

"A couple years. After DC, when we started looking for Buck. I never told Tony… I couldn't."

"I know," Natasha said, "And, to save you having to ask, I found out around the same time, and I couldn't tell him either."

"I only found out because I was searching for leads. I just wanted to help…"

"Yeah," Natasha exhaled. "Ok. Last question. Go."

One more question. Maybe the most obvious. "How did you know where to find us?"

"I'm clever," Natasha smirked.

"Nat…" Steve raised his eyebrows.

"Well I am," Natasha said, and pouted. "Fine. An educated guess. A very good one."

"That's still a crap answer."

"I placed a tracking device in the Quinjet before I let you go."

"Seriously?" Steve asked.

Natasha shrugged and swung her legs out of bed. "I'm making breakfast."

"You tracked the plane?"

"I tell you the truth, and you don't believe it." She grabbed her boots and pulled them on.

"Natasha, I… wait, is the Quinjet still there? Shouldn't we go and get it?"

Natasha grabbed her jacket and pulled it on. "Tony took it."

"Oh," Steve said. "You're still tracking it?"

Natasha stopped with her hand on the door. "I was. FRIDAY found the tracker. It was deactivated. Tony will know it was mine. He'll know I'm with you. I don't know if that makes this better or worse. I'm hoping better. I hope he just leaves us alone. Because if he doesn't someone will die, and I don't want that."

"None of us want that," Steve said.

"Tony won't know that until he's burying someone. Breakfast will be ready in ten," Natasha said, holding the door ajar.

"And you?"

"Huh?"

"Your third question?"

Natasha closed the door, but continued to face it, unable to look at Steve. "Were you prepared to kill him?"

"Bucky or Stark?"

"Either."

There was silence for a moment. Natasha sighed and went and sat on the bed. The springs creaked. Steve rolled onto his back. "Not Bucky," he said. "He never gave up on me. I owe him everything, Nat. I literally would not have made it to adulthood without him."

Natasha traced the lines in the bedspread. "And Stark?"

"If he'd killed Bucky…" Steve swallowed. "I've never seen him like that, Nat. He was so determined… If he'd killed Bucky, I don't think either of us would have come out of their alive."

Natasha nodded slowly.

"I hate that I felt that way," Steve said, "That I wanted to do that. After he shot Buck, and he was just lying there, I could have done it. For a moment I thought I would. And I hate that. It makes me feel sick."

"But you didn't," Natasha said, and stood up. "You could have, but you didn't. There's a difference. You're all still alive."

"What now?" Steve asked.

"Breakfast," Natasha said, "Then I'll fill you in on the plan. Today we're bunkering down. So chirp up, soldier. You get a respite day. We all do. We can go be heroes again tomorrow."