The next morning, Natasha woke up in a lighter mood than the one she had been carrying like a burden for the past two weeks. She smiled at the prospect of this hopeful day.
She spent her morning reading through old reports and memorizing all the data that could be useful to know in 1942. Her carnivorous brain devoured every piece of information like it had been trained to since her early age. She learned every bit of detail about where, when and how Hydra was taken down by Steve. She assimilated everything that needed to be known about Barnes' life and the circumstances of his death. She now knew him more than Steve did; much more when you consider she was aware of his future.
After several hours, she headed to the bathroom and dyed her hair blond. Thor, Stark and Banner had been very clear: she was not to leave any physical evidence of her existence in the 1940s.
'You don't exist. You're just a ghost,' Stark had said. This was easy. She had spent most of her life being one. She would only leave behind a myth to resonate in people's heads like the scariest dream. The assassin. The Black Widow.
'You're nothing more than a chimera,' Bruce had chimed in. She had liked this comparison. There was a poetic and beautiful connotation to it; she liked the prospect of becoming a benevolent force that would inspire trust and hope. She relished the idea of wearing a coat she had never been offered a chance to put on before. She enjoyed the thought of being given a whole new ledger to write into; an immaculate one she would make sure to never stain.
Natasha was not particularly fond of this hair color but she had to maximize her chances to blend in then sneak out of Steve's life without him ever keeping a vivid memory of this blond woman he briefly met in 1942. Plus, she knew for a fact that he was more into brunettes which would make even less noticeable. Changing appearance was the key to succeed in her undercover mission and keep a low profile. Steve would have soon forgotten about her after she had gone.
She washed her hair in the washstand and looked at herself in the mirror. She had worn blond wigs before for numerous missions but she was amazed by how this shade of blond gave her complexion a slight but noticeable variation. Her brighter skin enhanced the green of her eyes and made them more prominent than they usually were with her red hair.
She wore a vintage cocktail dress that Stark had had delivered urgently over the night. A piece of clothing that wouldn't draw the attention on her when she would arrive in the past –well, if she arrived. This was a matter she refused to look into; and even less address.
Natasha made her out of her apartment to the common room where everyone was waiting.
Fury had come out for the occasion and was conversing with Thor and Stark.
They all froze at the sight of her baffling makeover when she walked in the room. There was no denying the situation was getting real and that there was no coming back.
'Are you sure about this, Romanoff?' Fury asked as he walked up to her.
'Am I sure I want to bring Captain Rogers back, sir?' She stood firm and square.
He eyed her with an assertive look.
'Captain Rogers...or Steve?' he said to her in a lower voice. He tried to catch a responsive twitch from her then stepped away just as quickly.
This was another matter she refused to look into or address. Steve, Captain America; every persona of him was needed back into this world.
After setting up the last arrangements and going through the details of the mission one last time, the awaited moment to put the plan into motion arrived.
The Avengers all made their way to a quiet area of Central Park. Thor had made it clear she had to depart from a location that would exist in the past already. She couldn't do it in the Stark tower and take the risk to land under asphalt concrete, or through a wall. She would be traveling through time but not through space which was why it was vital to ensure she would land safe and sound in a place that wouldn't have been altered whatsoever. Central Park popped up as the most evident choice.
They were now all standing in the middle of an unfrequented trail framed by high and leafy oaks.
They all looked at eaach other. Goodbyes were the final step before triggering the mission.
Banner came up to her first and smiled awkwardly. She smiled too. His social skills were as poor as his science research were brilliant. Bruce had always been better at handling lab instruments than people. Him becoming the Hulk only widened the gap between the latter and himself.
Stark followed.
'Make us proud, Romanoff,' he said lightly as he put a surprisingly brotherly hand on her shoulder.
'I wish I could hammer you with it for the rest of your life once it's all over but alas you won't remember any of it.'
He fondly smiled at her. 'Isn't life cruel?'
He stepped away but then halted and turned to point to her. 'Seriously though, Romanoff. Tell us everything when you come back. At least tell me, I promise you I'll buy the whole time travel to save the Cap's neck story.'
It was good to see Tony going back to his bad habits.
Maria Hill came up and gently held her elbow.
'Good luck,' she said warmly, paused for a few seconds, then went on to check the perimeter was secure.
Fury stepped up to her with a smirk on.
'I could probably tell you you were my best agent but I won't because that would mean this is a goodbye. I count on you to prove me right and come back.' He put his hands on each side of her shoulders and allowed the hint of a smile to make an appearance. This was the closest he had ever been to show his respect and his affection. 'It's an order.'
'Thank you,' she answered, almost bashful but extremely proud.
Clint was the last. He stood there, watching her silently with a hard frown that inevitably softened.
'I wish I were mad at you but I'm not,' he said with a smirk then pulled her in for a hug.
She wrapped her arms around him, clutching to his shoulders to collect all the strength she would need to go through this mission. Only two people in her life had this power to breathe heroism and nobility into her. One was Clint, the other had passed away one week earlier.
She had kept telling everyone she wanted to bring Steve back for the team, for people, but really, she was mostly bringing her back for her. Because he had always inspired to act like a hero; to do the right thing. And look now, even dead, he had emboldened her to be a hero and sacrifice herself to travel to the unknown. She needed him around to keep doing those beautiful things.
'I'm so proud of you,' Clint whispered into her ear as if he had understood it too. He didn't see it but it raised a genuine smile on her lips. Both couldn't ignore the fact that this might be the last time they'd ever see each other.
'Take care of yourself while I'm away,' she teased with a sneer. 'You know I won't be around to save your neck this time again.'
He chuckled lightly.
'Just come back, okay?' he whispered.
'You don't trust me?' she answered.
He pulled away to look her in the eye.
'It's that rusty lapel pin I don't trust.'
He turned his head to look in Thor's direction. 'Offense intended.'
The Asgardian God furrowed his brows.
"What is this lapel pin, exactly?' he asked so sternly for such a ridiculous object it made the two spies smile.
Clint turned his attention back to his friend. He leaned in again and put a kiss on her forehead; a gesture he only kept for his wife and his children. And now her. She bit her bottom lip to hold back the tears that were threatening to make their way up to her eyes.
They shared a smile then he pulled himself away to let Thor step in.
The semi-God held the round metallic object between his thumb and his index.
'Keep this device preciously,' he spoke calmly. She nodded thoroughly.
He asked her to tilt her head and stuck the chip on her temple. He then invited her to seat herself on the bench behind them.
He sat beside her.
Clint, Stark, Fury and Banner were standing in front of them, watching closely with a rising anguish.
She took a deep breath in. 'And now?' she asked.
'The device should work like what you humans call video games.'
He earned a frown from both Clint and Tony.
'You're going to have to use your hands to navigate through time. You brushed them to the left if you wish to move forward, you brush them to the right if you want to move back.'
She nodded. It sounded pretty simple. She had maneuvered far more complicated technologies.
'Remember you cannot alter the past more than you are aimed to do. All the rest has to remain the same.'
She nodded again. Honestly, she was at a loss of words at this moment.
'How do I activate it?' she asked.
'You just have to mentally want it.'
Clint nervously shifted position and crossed his arms against his chest. Tony held back his breath a bit longer than he should have.
Thor put his hand on her shoulder.
'You are one of the bravest warriors I ever had the honor to fight alongside, Natasha Romanoff. I put all my faith in you.'
She welcomed his compliment with all the appreciation it deserved and valued his voluntary omission of the word 'woman' in his statement. Thor dressed and spoke like he came from an older time but he was far more modern than half the men ruling this world.
He removed his hand and all looked at her intently.
She let out a long and calm inspiration as she closed her eyes and mentally requested to switch the chip on. When she opened them again, her friends were still standing there but everything looked different. Every shade of color around her was enhanced, more vivid, but also trembling as in on the verge to fade away if she decided so. She lifted her hands in front of her, palms faced outside. She could touch and feel space between her fingers. The air had a consistence, the rays of sun falling onto her hands felt like a warm carress on her skin, the flying pollen bumped against her palms. Every thing around her had become tangible.
She gently swayed her fingers in a bewildering dance with the space surrounding her.
Her teammates were still watching her quizzically as they endeavored to figure out what she was possiby gazing that was invisible to them.
She then swiftly waved her hands to the right and sensed as she literally pushed the entirity of this world away.
Her friends immediately vanished off her sight and she watched, still sitting on her bench, as people walked backwards before her without aknowledging her presence to the least. She watched the night take over the day, then the day take over the night. Complete strangers brushed past her in a flash: an old man feeding the birds, two teenagers kissing secretely, a dog running after a squirrel and its owner calling its name while running behind.
Everything sped up as she mentally asked for it and, this time, her eyes could only perceive the repeatitive alternance of days and nights; of sunny, rainy and snowy weathers flashing through in front of her.
'1942,' she hammered repeatedly like a chanting.
After many seconds of flickering views, it started to slow down and she noticed the passersby were now dressed in another fashion than one she had ever been in. The men were wearing long coats, vests with large ties and fedora hats. Women who passed before her had the same kind of dresses than the one she was wearing except they looked far more vintage and authentic than hers would ever be.
Everything slowed down more and more until it finally stopped. She raised her hands again and felt the neww environment displayed in front of her go back to being impalpable and vivid colors return to their tamer selves. She dropped her hands and looked around her. The journey had reached its end.
She smiled to herself: it was official, she hadn't combusted into mush.
The sun was high in the sky like a moment ago when her friends were still there with her. The trail and the bench looked pretty much the same as before except the latter seemed less timeworn, if that made any sense. Her chip suddenly an inexplicably dropped off her temple when it had been strongly stuck to it until now and fell on the fabric of her dress.
She looked at it curiously then picked it up between her fingers. She stood up and looked around. There wasn't the trace of a living soul around. She put the chip into the pocket of her dress and breathed in the fresh air.
It was time to find out if she was in the good year.
She ran up the trail as fast as she would if she were running after a target.
She soon got out of Central park and headed towards the nearest form of civilization. The traffic was as heavy as you would expect it to be in New York City but the cars were different. Encouragingly different. But it wasn't a good reason to rejoice yet.
She ran across the road to the booth newspapers placed at the end of the street. She halted swiftly when she reached it and looked at the pape displayed before her with a pounding heart.
December 11, 1942
Her mouth released a sob of relief she had been afraid to let out too early and she held her hand up to her chest.
Never the sight of a date had brought such an intense mix of bliss, alleviation and hope. Nothing could possibly go wrong now that she had achieved made it through the biggest chunk of the equation. Finding Steve and saving Barnes from his fate sounded like a piece of cake in comparison. She had had far more dangerous missions.
'Miss, are you alright?' the large man standing behind of the booth asked with genuine concern.
She detached her eyes from the printed date with difficulty and looked at him.
'I am, now,' she said softly.
The man looked her up and down then resumed to tidying up his diplay.
Natasha turned her attention back to the date and the headline put in capital letters.
NAZIS CONTINUE REIGN OF TERROR ACROSS EUROPE
Today was Friday, she still had time to go get cash from the secret services' hidden bank acount.
'Excuse me,' she called the large man. 'Do you know how I can get to the Bank of New York from here?'
He shook his thumb to the right.
'It's a few blocks away in this direction. It's a big building, you can't miss it.'
She thanked him and walked in the direction he was showing her.
She treaded the streets like they were all unknwown to her, paying attention to every person trotting past her. She paid attention to their gait, their demeanor, to the details of women's outfits so that she could copy their style but also to the buildings and the cars. It was like watching old photographs taking life. Natasha felt like the odd one out among all these passersby who fitted naturally in this world.
She turned round the corner and waited for the light to turn red when a paper stuck onto the wall on her right caught her attention.
She carefully stepped up to it as she recognized the familiar features printed on the poster. Her heartbeat geared up again.
DON'T MISS OUT CAPTAIN AMERICA'S LAST SHOW TONIGHT BEFORE NATIONAL TOUR
Friday 12th - 7 p.m
She choked. It was him. The uniform did look more like a ridiculous cosplay than an actual military uniform; the shield was nothing more than a laughable wooden kite shield that would have been stolen all the way from Middle-Age; the hair was old-fashioned as its finest, the posture greatly lacked confidence and toughness, but it was him. The one and only, Captain Steve Rogers. Or here, musical show idol Captain America she should say.
Her fingers instinctively reached for his face on the paper as she felt the knot which had been occupying her stomach for two long weeks slowly start to untangle itself.
'I'm coming for you,' she whispered completely stunned, grazing the paper gently.