A/N:

OKAY! It has been way too long. And I'm so sorry. I really struggled with this chapter and wasn't able to publish this until today.

Just like with God Help the Outcasts, this chapter is pretty personal to me. And just like that chapter, if you have any questions about topics discussed, I'll be happy to answer in PM.

Reviews:

Bree: Thank you so much! Here it is!

TheJollyRoger: What kiss at the end...? Steve didn't kiss her...He bowed and smiled at her. Also, keep your shirt on. The story is marked as complete because these are interconnecting one shots. See chapter 1 in regards to that. ;)

Qweb: I'm so glad you like it! Yes the "talking" horses are a lot of fun to write and the dance was my favorite scene!

Guest: Thank you! Here is the update!

Enough blabbering from me!

Note: I own nothing.

This one shot was inspired by Locash's I Know Somebody. Check it out!

Warning: Discussion of the blood on Nat's hands. Nothing explicit.

I Know Somebody

April (Four years after Infinity War)

Sundays were a weird day for Natalia. For four full years, Steve and Sundays were a mystery.

She would wake up around six to an empty house with no sign of where her partner had gone, save for the truck they shared missing from the driveway. Prior to adopting the three horses, she would shrug it off and go to hang out with the Bartons. Then, after adopting them, she would go and be with Tatiana for a few hours, enjoying her company and brushing her down.

Then, when she would return to the house, she would find the truck back in the driveway and a fresh breakfast waiting for her on the kitchen table beside a vase full of flowers (usually wildflowers, though on certain occasions there would be carnations and on one occasion – Christmas if she recalled correctly – roses).

While she would sit down to eat, Steve would emerge from his room, dressed in his usual "old man" getup, but his hair was lightly gelled and styled.

"Did you visit a lovely lady?" She asked one Sunday two years before.

"Kinda," He replied smoothly, pouring himself a glass of orange juice. "I went to spend time with a Lady and a King."

His cryptic answer had left her raising a brow.

"I went to Mass," He admitted after a moment, caving into the look, as if he didn't want to hold up the ruse for very long…even if his blue eyes were afraid that she would mock him.

Back then, she had just nodded and let it be. She assumed that Mass was something that helped him, especially since his worst nightmares tended to be on Saturdays and Fridays, but after going to Mass, he would sleep calmly.

But today would be different.

She had set her alarm for 3 A.M., hoping that would be early enough.

And was pleased when she found she was right since, after her alarm went off, she heard the shower downstairs turn on. Smiling, she got out of bed and headed to her on-suite bathroom, where the clothes she had picked out last night waited for her.

Like the good spy she had once been, she did her research on this particular mission before committing to it. She had researched what the proper clothing to wear to a Catholic Mass was and had found the most modest dress she had in her closet (a soft, knee length green dress) to pair with a black cardigan and flats. She didn't wear dresses very often these days as there wasn't many times to do so, so it felt nice to wear the dress Laura had gotten her for Christmas the year before.

By the time she was heading down the stairs, Steve was standing by the door, swinging a suit jacket over his shoulders.

"Good morning, Steve," She called out, announcing her presence as her feet had silently made their way down the steps.

Steve's head shot up so fast she thought she heard a pop. His blue eyes widened as she made her way off the staircase. "Nat," He said, running his left hand through his hair. "H..Did I wake you?"

She chuckled, shaking her head. "No. I just…" She straightened her shoulders. "Could I join you for Mass?"

The blonde rancher's jaw slackened and if he wasn't so steady on his feet, she would have guessed he would have fallen over.

A+ for surprise.

"Uh…" He attempted to recover, closing his mouth and clearing his throat. His voice was calm but defaulted, and his eyes were shining with something she couldn't quite pin. "Yes, of course."

She smiled broadly. "Great."

At that moment, the clock struck 3:30AM.

"We better go."

Steve felt like a supernova was going off in his chest as he focused his attention on the road.

Ever since last November, after Natalia opened her green eyes from her trauma induced sleep, Steve had wished that she would join him for Mass, even just once.

And here she was. Sitting quietly in the passenger seat, staring out the window at the woods they passed by. Her green eyes looking far away whenever he glanced her way.

The silence in the truck was comfortable, at least it was for the former soldier, who was used to this drive being a silent and long one. He usually spent this time preparing for Mass and he did have a lot of time to ponder things.

But right now, he was distracted by the redhead sitting next to him.

"I did some research," Natalia said about an hour into the drive, startling Steve out of his musings. "On Catholic Masses. But I think you would be a more reliable source of information."

The formal tone and language she used told Steve two things: she was nervous and curious. "Okay," He replied. "What do you want to know?"

And so for the next two hours, he answered all of her questions about the Mass, what language it would be in (Latin), what it was, why he went, why it was so important to him, etc.

He could hear the passion in his voice as he replied to her questions, and hoped that he was able to convey the importance of his Sunday outings to her.

Almost too soon, he pulled into the parking lot of the church, parked, and stepped out of the truck. As he moved his seat forward to grab his missal and book of prayers, he noticed that Nat hadn't moved from her spot in the truck, her eyes locked on the building before them. It wasn't a grandiose Cathedral, but rather a humble parish surrounded by a well-kept lawn and surrounded by a white fence. There were quite a few cars in the parking lot, even though Mass wasn't for another forty five minutes.

After a moment of watching her, Steve walked around and opened the passenger side door. "Ready?" He asked when her eyes finally moved to look at him. He smiled and held out his right hand to her, his left occupied by his prayer books.

She blinked at him, before undoing her seatbelt and taking his hand only to let it go after her feet touched the ground. She smoothed the front of her skirt and he turned and started walking towards the parish.

He held open the door for an older woman and gestured for Natalia to enter before him. Once they were both inside the vestibule of the church, he dipped his fingers into a small bowl of Holy Water and crossed himself. He let the silence of the church wash over him as he lead Natalia into the main church, his eyes focused on the lovely altar at the opposite side.

Their feet moved silently over the soft carpet and they soon came to the pew that he would typically sit in. Gesturing for her to sit first, he genuflected to the altar before sitting beside her. Steve put down the kneeler (knowing that it would support both of their weight if she wanted to kneel with him), knelt, and opened his prayer book, beginning his prayers before Mass.

Natalia was a master of languages. She was fluent in five known languages that she could easily slip into, and several more that would take a few minutes for her to adjust to.

Latin just happened to be one of the ones she was fluent in. (1) As a result, she found herself able to pay attention to the words from the altar that were audible, and only needed to look at Steve's missal for the responses and the prayers that she couldn't hear.

But it was the homily that had stuck with her.

The priest was a soft spoken man, but strong in his words. A master of words herself, she could truly appreciate the way he strung together his, like pearls to be worn around a lady's neck.

But it was the truth of those words that cut right to the heart. They refused to be ignored. Refused to be tossed aside like some worthless necklace from a onetime lover.

No. These words wormed their way past her defenses and into her heart.

The last reading was about the Prodigal Son (2), but the priest chose to focus most of his attention in his homily on the Father.

"The son knows that he's not worthy of his father's attention, not after demanding his inheritance, leaving his aged father to take care of the home with his elder brother, and then squander the money he has. He recognizes his faults and failings, that he is broken and damaged. And all he wants to do is to return to his father's home…not as his son, but as his slave. To pay his father back for his failings.

"And yet…the father waits for him. Can you imagine what his day must have been like? Looking down the road every day for his son? How many times do you think he saw someone coming up the road and jumped up, thinking 'Is that my son? Is that my little boy?'

"In our lives, we focus so much on the bad we've done and maybe we think to ourselves 'I'm too damaged to be healed,' or 'I'm not worthy to be a child of the King, so I'll settle for being his servant' or any other statements that presume that our sin is too great for God's mercy. That our past is too dark to be washed away in the blood of the Lamb and made white as snow.

"Firstly, if you are having these thoughts, I – as your pastor, as your brother in Christ – ask, beg you to stop. I've been down that road. It's a lonely path. Secondly, the flood waters of God's mercy are so deep, wide, and –most importantly—all encompassing." The priest pointed to the back of the church. "There is a little room back there. It's only about…4 feet by 2 feet by 6 feet. But the graces that flow in that small space can wipe away the darkest night, the deepest wounds, and the blackest of stains.

"If you are carrying that dark, deep baggage, it's time to lay it down. The Father is waiting to give you back your robe, your ring, your inheritance as a child of the King. Of being His. God bless you all."

And after the homily, Natalia found herself stuck to her spot, even after the Mass ended. Her green eyes focused on the metal box – tabernacle, her mind corrected – as she sat there, her brain refusing to let her move and her eyes hurting from holding back tears.

A warm hand finally rested on her chilled one, making her turn to look.

And there was Steve's kind and worried blue eyes looking at her, and all she wanted to do was cling to him for dear life.

Because he had given her an out.

Sure, she had never put a lot of stock in God's existence, noting that if He did exist, He probably wouldn't want anything to do with her. On missions, part of her act had been to go to different houses of faith from time to time to blend in.

But none of them had ever said they could take the red away…

Steve must have seen the cocktail of emotions flooding her green eyes and pulled her into a gentle hug –just like what she had done for him at Peggy's funeral— held her for as long as he could.

Eventually, he guided her out of the Church and back to their truck. She was so emotionally drained that she didn't protest Steve's assistance.

And he didn't complain when she slid across the bench seat to rest her head on his shoulder as he drove her home.

A few weeks passed before the topic of Mass came up again. Steve wasn't sure what to say in regards to it, but the look on Natalia's face when she was in deep thought suggested that she'd probably talk to him about it when she was ready. So he left her to her thoughts, his silent presence in those moments letting her know that he was there for her.

It was a Saturday when Natalia finally sought him out.

He was in his office, a charcoal pencil in his right hand and a canvas resting on the easel before him as he worked on a picture of Boots for Nathaniel's upcoming birthday. His brows were furrowed in concentration, a smudge of charcoal on his left cheek.

Natalia had been watching him for a good ten minutes from just out of his sight, wondering if she should interrupt or just wait until tomorrow morning to talk to him.

If you push this off again you'll never talk to him about it. She reminded herself. And with a quiet sigh, decided that she needed to do this now while she still had the courage to do so.

She knocked gently, but loudly enough for him to hear, on the door frame.

"Come in, Nat." He called, his blue eyes not leaving the canvas as he smoothed some lines.

She did as he said, quietly sitting on the edge of his desk, being sure to steer clear of the other drawings and papers on his desk. She set her hands in her lap and looked at the drawing of Boots up close. The resemblance of the drawing to its subject was uncanny, and she almost expected it to whinny at her. "That's amazing." Her voice was soft as she gestured to the canvas.

The tips of his ears turned red and he rubbed the back of his neck, leaving trails of charcoal on his clear skin. "I hope it'll be good when it's done."

She pushed his shoulder gently, chuckling before turning her attention back to what she wanted to talk about. "Do you have a few minutes?"

He put down his pencil and leaned back in his chair, blue eyes meeting hers. "For you, I'd spare a few years if you asked me to."

She smiled a bit at that, before looking back at her hands. "I…um…first wanted to thank you f-for bringing me with you to Mass. It…it's really affected me. In a good way." She couldn't look into his blue eyes, part of her afraid that she would falter if she turned her head, even though she could feel his gaze on her face. "I never took stock in religion…I mean, I was raised by the KGB. Religion was pretty much forbidden. There was only the good of Russia.

"And in my life before the KGB…I don't know what's real. I could tell you what I know solely because history says it happened…multiple newspapers talking about the fire that took my parents, obituaries, etc...But I don't know if my family had any particular faith. Soviet Russia was not kind to faiths of all sorts. And I'm not sure where I'm going with this…" She interrupted herself, her fist making its way to press against her mouth, trying to gather the words she thought she wanted to say.

A warm hand rested on her other one, and she finally turned to look at her partner. His warm, deep blue eyes grounding her as her thoughts tumbled in turmoil.

"Records would have been non-existent or destroyed by the KGB if they found them. I-I don't know what my parents left for me to find or…" She trailed off once more, suddenly wondering what the hell she was doing.

Steve must have seen that in her eyes and stood, pressing a finger to her lips, his blue eyes swimming with something she had trouble deciphering.

When did he become tricky to read?

"What are you really trying to say, Nat?" His voice was soft as he moved his hand from her mouth to her hair, tucking one of her red locks behind her ear. "You're talking in circles."

She took a deep breath, trying to ignore the warmth that followed in his hand's wake. "I want the red gone. M-my nightmares aren't as bad as they once were, and I guess I've paid my debt to society by bringing many of my former handlers to justice…but…"

"There's a restlessness inside of you that just refuses to go away." He finished when she didn't speak for a long moment.

Natalia nodded, her throat tightening a bit. "And up until a few weeks ago…I was convinced that was all I was going to get of wiping out the red. That it would fade to pink but never be fully gone. And now…because I don't know what my parents left for me…I don't know if I can…"

His arms wrapped around her lithe frame, pulling her into a gentle hug. She pressed her face into his shoulder, her fingers digging into the front of his shirt right over his beating heart.

"If you want, I'll talk to Father about this. I'm sure there are other ways to get you where you want to be." He rested a hand in her hair as he pressed a kiss to her temple. "I'll help you get there."

Her grip on him tightened, knowing he was always honest and kept his promises to her.

April (One year later)

"Ready?" Steve asked, his blue eyes shining as he adjusted his suit jacket as they stood outside of the parish he had brought Natalia to several months before.

"As I'll ever be." Natalia replied, her hand slipping into his as they walked up the steps.

Clint stood by the door, smiling as they approached. He wore a suit similar to Steve's but his pocket square was pink, probably to match his daughter and wife's dresses. He leaned over and kissed Natalia's forehead as he opened the door for them. The former spies had had a long talk about this day months ago, and he had been very supportive of her choice the whole time.

And she couldn't have been more grateful.

Because tonight, tonight she would be fully initiated.

An exhaustive search for any baptismal records in the Russian Orthodox, Russian Catholic, and even some small Protestant churches in Russia had been for naught. If she had been baptized in her infancy, there was no proof to be found.

Fortunately, the priest had dealt with this type of situation before, and after he had a long talk with Natalia and several RCIA classes later, the former spy decided that becoming Catholic not only would take away the red, but was something she desired from the depths of her soul. She had seen the impact Steve's faith had on his life, especially in the past five years, but even before that in small ways, and she admired that faith. Wanted that.

And now it would be hers.

In the vestibule, they were met by Josephine, an older woman who was Natalia's Sponsor. The older woman smiled broadly at their arrival and hugged her soon-to-be-Goddaughter. "The big day is finally here!" She said quietly. "Are you ready?"

Natalia's green eyes sparkled. "Yes." She nodded firmly.

"That's my girl." Josephine said, tapping the younger woman's cheek gently before turning to Steve. "Good evening, Steven. Ready?"

The blue eyed man smiled, shoving one hand into his pocket. "I think so, but I'm gonna need to talk to Father first." He reached out with one hand and squeezed Natalia's shoulder. "I'll see you both in a bit."

The women watched him go before turning back to each other.

"I have something for you." The older woman finally said, breaking the comfortable silence. She reached into her purse and pulled out a white box the size of a novel.

Natalia looked at the box, then to the woman. Part of her wanted to protest because the older woman had already given her the best gift she possibly could – an ear to listen and advice that was invaluable. But the red head knew that Josephine would hear none of that, so she accepted the gift.

Pulling off the ribbon, she opened the box and found herself looking at a green book with the Catholic coat of arms on the front and the words "Catechism of the Catholic Church" written in gold lettering.

"I know you still have a lot of questions about being Catholic, and," Josephine began. "You've already gone through mine looking for answers. Well, now you have one of your own…so whenever a pesky questions come back up, you only have to reach out for your own Catechism to find the answer."

Natalia wrapped the older woman in a hug. "Thank you, for everything." She whispered.

"You're most welcome, Goddaughter."

A/N: And that's a wrap for this chapter.

1) Iron Man 2

2) Luke 15:11-32

P.S: This homily was also from another one that I've heard in the past. I hope I was able to convey the importance the same way that the priest I heard it from had.

There are only two more chapters left to this story. But I promise I will tie up all loose ends by then.

Next time: Lieutenant is a sneaky stallion, and Steve decides to man up.

~Rachel