"Save one life, you are a hero. Save a hundred lives, you are a nurse." – Anonymous.

Natasha had been poking around his injured hand with a pair of forceps for a little over ten minutes now. The largest chunk of the glass had long since been removed. So, now, she was merely prodding around to find and remove those smaller, loose shards.

"You sure you don't feel weird or anything? You lost quite a lot of blood there."

Steve rolled his eyes and gave a snort.

"Really, Nat? I've taken direct hits from a demigod's scepter, from Tony's repulsors at close range, and from some guy who probably ran faster than a speeding bullet. I think I'll live." Steve retorted drily.

"Gee. Guess that explains why you were clutching onto that piece of glass like some masochistic old pervert." Natasha jibed while she yanked one of the glass pieces out of his hand with perhaps a little too much force than necessary.

Steve grimaced.

"Comes with the serum. My pain tolerance is a lot higher than that of a normal human. Guess I just didn't realize I was squeezing it."

"Yeah, well… Whatever high pain tolerance you allegedly have, it didn't seem to stop you from making weird faces when I pulled that last one out did it?" said the spy without even looking away from his hand.

Of course she'd notice that.

Steve smirked.

"I suppose it's useless to tell you that some pollen went into my eye or something…"

The spy shot him a get-real look before she went back to poking around his palm. Ever since the serum, Steve had always avoided letting others deal with his wounds unless it was absolutely necessary. Mainly because he just felt uncomfortable, having people poking needles or messing with his wounds. Some other times, it was a form of precautionary measure, because he knew that there were many bad people out there who were very interested in getting their hands on his blood. But with Natasha, he found that he didn't mind. Not at all. And in fact, it even surprised him, considering the countless times he had actually let her take care of him, like right now.

Quietly, Steve sat in his stool and watched her work. His gaze remain transfixed on her face as he continually studied her. The look of pure concentration was there, he'd quickly noticed. And then, of course, there were also other enticing details highlighting her features too. Such as the slight furrow of her brows, or the quick dance of her eyes in their sockets, or the unconscious opening and closing of her lips, or perhaps the occasional tongue peeking out to wet her lips. All of which had, time and again, rendered Steve in a state of utter bewitchment.

Christ. She was beautiful. Magnificently, stunningly, alluringly and dazzlingly beautiful. She deserved all the love in the world. All the good things that this world had to offer, she deserved. She deserved to be treasured. She deserved to be loved and cared for.

If only he could be that person to give her those things.

At some point, the spy must've noticed his relentless gawking and staring, because she suddenly looked up from his injured hand. Their eyes met across the kitchen counter. Her nursing duties all but forgotten. For a split second, he actually panicked. Because he thought that she might say something which would lead to another yelling match. But the panic vanished quickly when a tiny smile formed on her face. It was quite a subtle smile. Barely noticeable, just a slight quirk at the corner of her mouth. But he knew her well enough to be able to perceive the subtle gesture.

Was she gonna start teasing him again? Start making fun of him for all the gawking he'd done? Or maybe start throwing some grandad jokes at him? Or maybe make some sort of sassy comment about him developing wrinkles if he kept staring so intensely at her face?

Should he say something?

That little moment ended when she dropped her gaze back onto his hand and went back to playing Florence Nightingale. Once again, he felt the tip of the forceps pressed against his skin, poking at his hand, nipping his flesh, pulling out tiny little translucent shards.

Steve couldn't help but take in the entire scene before him, his mind piecing together every single detail before his eyes as it tried to create some form of pattern.

A kitchen counter. A beautiful woman. A nice living suite.

An actual life.

Warmth erupted within Steve's chest like brilliant fireworks. The warmth, the heat, and the sparks, swirled around in his torso like a vortex until they settled snugly at the pit of his belly.

Because that entire scene right there? This whole... activity that they were engaged in? It was…domestic. So natural, and just so… right.

It was a quick taste of happiness, a quick glimpse into the depths of his heart's longing.

A life. His life. With an actual someone in it.

It was a life shared with a loved one.

The war's over Steve…

We can go home…

Imagine it!

We can go home…

Home.

Where is home?

Did he even have one?

That warm fuzzy feeling soon morphed into desolation, and into sadness. The glimpse into happiness soon became a reminder of the life that he couldn't possibly have.

He had no home.

He had no one.

His best friend was a block of ice.

His first love lay asleep in a wooden box.

His second love was in love with another man.

He had no one.

None.

His life, a zero sum.

Another sharp tug of the forceps against his skin pull him out of his morbid thoughts.

He winced at the slight discomfort.

The cool, metallic feel of the forceps tip moved to another corner of his palm.

"You know… you'd make a great nurse, Nat." Steve commented lightly, trying very hard not to wince this time as he felt another piece being yanked out of his flesh.

Natasha glared katanas at him.

Uh-oh. Did he hit a sore spot or something? Did he say something wrong?

Way to go, Steve. Looks like you've just added another pile of shit onto your shitty day.

But come on, he merely made an innocent comment about nurses. How was that even offending?

Did Natasha hate nurses or something?

But why would Natasha hate nurses? Pfft, why would anyone hate nurses? Nurses were great. They're like angels. They save lives. Heck, his own Ma was a nurse.

Would it mean that she hated his Ma too?

Steve briefly entertained the silly notion that maybe the reason why Natasha never saw him beyond platonic boundaries was because of his Ma's occupation. Maybe her hatred for nurses was so colossal that the mere idea of being romantically entangled with a nurse's offspring downright repulsed her?

Bollocks.

The whole load of that was just plain ridiculous.

What the hell was he even thinking? She didn't want him because she couldn't want him. And she couldn't want him because she just ain't feeling it. Plain and simple. Deal with it, Rogers.

But hey, why was she still glaring at him like that?

What the hell did I do?

Ahem. Well. Apparently, yelled at her, pushed her back against the wall, and then made numerous disrespectful comments about her relationship with other men. In other words, acted like a needy, presumptous, bitter, and conceited jackass.

Way to go, Rogers.

But why didn't she leave, then? Why stay and tend to his sorry ass? He clearly didn't deserve her tender care after making such an ass of himself just now. Hell, even he wouldnt stay and tend to him after what he did.

So why stay?

Pfft. Guess he really didn't know a bloody thing about women. Seriously, women are such complicated creatures.

"Did I…uh…did I…say something wrong? Because you look like you're about to shoot me."

The glare remained.

"No. I'm just feeling terribly sorry for myself right now…I mean look at me, two days ago I'm an Avenger, and now, I'm a senior citizen's private nurse. It's a little bit degrading for a career change."

And believe it or not folks, she actually spouted all that with a straight face, and a piercing glare. God, she was hilarious.

Steve chuckled.

"Well, then. In that case, my stand remains. You'd make a wonderful nurse, Nat."

Any remaining scintilla of his concerns were immediately allayed when the glare finally morphed into her trademark smirk.

"And you'd make a decent masochist, Rogers. Won't be that surprised if I ever come across you getting off right there in the middle of a battlefield, with a bunch of bullets and blades stuck in your chest." she quipped back sassily.

Steve laughed.

"Oh, I assure you, Nat. You don't need no bullets to get me off. You only need the right woman." Steve's eyes bored into hers, those baby blue orbs grew several shades darker thereupon.

And the right one is sitting right across me. He had wanted to add, but he didn't, because he wasn't sure if he was ready to deal with the consequences which would follow those words just yet.

You are the only one I ever need, Nat. If only you feel the same, if only…

"Are you flirting with me, Rogers?" her tone amused for the first time ever since their yelling match.

"Did it work?" Steve went for a smile to cover up another wince that he had once again failed to stave off as she pulled more shards out.

"Well, you might wanna try it again next time, when you don't have broken pieces of glass…" Natasha paused, and forcefully yanked out a huge piece of glass, causing Steve to grimace, "stuck in your hand. Because I'm pretty sure that…" she paused for a second time and ripped another piece out, "flirting doesn't work when people do it with constipated looks on their faces."

Steve didn't miss the instigation that there would be a 'next time', but had wisely elected not to comment on it, because there would probably be, you know, consequences.

Steve chuckled and nodded, "Just returning the many 'favors' you'd done me all those years ago."

Steve was referring to all the times she had flirted with him, causing him to be in very 'tight' and uncomfortable…uh…states. Then again, who was he even kidding? Most of the time, she didn't even have to flirt or do anything to get him into… well, 'tight' situations. All it took was a simple gesture, such as a curl of her lips, or maybe a casual flip of her hair, or heck, just by wearing a freaking sports bra, and she could have him squirming and calling his elastic pants for help.

Natasha responded by wrenching out yet another huge piece from his flesh, eliciting a deep groan from the supersoldier. He cursed under his breath at the pain.

Did she do that on purpose?

Judging from the slight curve at the edge of her lips, yep, she probably did.

"In hindsight, flirting probably isn't my strong suit, seeing how the woman was so keen on causing me pain right after I tried my mojo on her." Steve said wryly.

Natasha chuckled.

"Well…maybe she just knows that you're into masochism." Natasha looked up from his hand through her lashes without lifting her chin, altogether giving out a very, very seductive aura.

Jesus Christ. This woman defines seduction. I'll be lucky if I survive through the night without a hole in my pants.

Steve smirked, "So it worked, huh? And for the record, I am not into masochism."

Natasha gave him an innocent look, "Oh…I wouldn't be too sure about that, Steve… Let's see here… jumping out of a plane without a chute...willingly participating in a one on one brawl with Ultron, and, more recently with its creator. Jumping right into the clash of egos between a thunder god and a walking arsenal… the broken glass just now…preventing a helicopter from taking off with your bare hands….? Shall I go on?"

Steve scoffed, "Those were different, Nat. It's not like I was…getting off or anything while I did those things."

"Well I guess I wouldn't know that, would I?" Natasha smirked before going back to playing nurse.

Oh you could if you want to…

Just say the word, and I'll let you 'know' for the rest of your life, Nat.

Once again, Steve left Natasha to work in silence while he busied himself with thinking of ways to repair the damage done from their prior heated argument. As usual, he would try to shoulder all the blame, fall on his sword…shield…? Whatever.

He went over the line this time. That, he had no doubt of. He had let his feelings for Natasha controlled his actions, his thoughts, and his words. And now, he was at the risk of jeopardizing years of friendship between them, if it wasn't already in ruins.

He tried to remember the exact moment in their conversation when he had truly lost it, truly succumbed to his feelings. He realized that it was precisely at the moment when Natasha belittled his trust in her. From that point on, he had pretty much just… let his heart take over, or in simpler terms, snapped. He had felt an inexorable impulse to convince her just how much she meant to him and to convince her just how much he trusted her, be it on the battlefield or with his heart. Then one thing led to another, and he just had to let his petty jealousy screw it all up. Yes, he knew that it was wrong of him to demand her to share things with him when she really didn't want to. He had absolutely no right to demand her of that. None. Because she wasn't his, they weren't together. They had nothing special together. Her and Bruce was special, but her and him? Pfft. No. Not really. Try as Steve might, he just couldn't see how Natasha ever saw him in a special way. As far as Steve knew, Natasha had always treated him as if he was just another Average Joe. Like, come on. Meaningless flirting? Casual teasing? Nothing special there, right? Hell, even if they were (by some miracle) indeed an item, he would still have no right to force her to do things that she didn't want to do – including revealing all her secrets to him. Therefore, yes, it was wrong of him to expect her to trust him with her secrets or emotions when she herself had not the desire to do so. He couldn't possibly demand that of her. It just wouldn't be fair to her.

Steve knew, that bringing up the thing with Bruce was a mistake. A mistake induced by something as petty as jealousy. She had every right to choose whomever she wanted to trust her secrets with in the same way she had the liberty to choose whomever not to trust her secrets with! Steve just didn't have a goddamn say in it, whether he liked it or not. Yet, he acted as though he did have a say in it, so, well, time to face the music.

In hindsight, Steve wasn't sure if he could even blame her for wanting to share intimate things about herself with Bruce, since she was, you know, in love with the guy. Love makes people willing to share things after all – as far as Steve could tell anyway, not that he had much experience with relationships to begin with. Hey, come to think of, wouldn't that also explain why he himself was able to share, so naturally and without restraint, intimate things about himself with Natasha? Because Steve was, you know, in love, with Natasha. Basically, just the same principle applied to different pairings!

Similarly, could he really blame Natasha if she didn't feel the same way about him and therefore, by extension, had not the desire to share all her secrets with him? Again, in retrospect, Steve found that he really couldn't! After all, it wasn't like Steve would one day just randomly decide to sit down with Sharon and spill his heart to her for hours on end, right? No. That would be an extremely unlikely occurrence, because he wasn't in love with Sharon. Well, the exact same reasoning applies to Natasha's case too, right? Natasha wasn't in love with him, so that was why she didn't want to share all her secrets with him. It was fundamentally the same principle, just applied to different pairings. So why the double standard? How could he expect Natasha to open up to him when she wasn't… in love with him?

Way to go, you asshole. You've hurt her, you selfish bastard.

All in all, Steve felt like a total asshole, a douchebag, a jackass, a dickhead, a jerk…you name it.

He had to fix this. Fix them. Before their goose was truly cooked.

Steve schooled his features. He stole a glance at the spy and was satisfied that she was still busy playing nurse.

First, he needed a plan of attack. He couldn't afford to screw it all up at this point. He'd need a systematic approach that could give him a tactical advantage. He needed a sound plan. Though, whatever that plan was, he was pretty sure that it would involve a lot of groveling, and God forbid, begging.

He watched the spy slowly put the forceps back down onto the countertop's surface. He assumed at that point that all the shards were gone from his hand, though if he was honest, he didn't really care. She slowly removed her hand from his wrist, the same one she had used to steady his injured hand while she was 'nursing' his wounds.

Steve was staring at her intensely now, but she didn't seem to notice, because her eyes was focused on some of the bloody shards laid down on the countertop. Her expression seemed…hesitant, like she was unsure of what to say next.

Damn. Steve really dreaded the things that would come out from her mouth next. For all he knew, it could be, 'Steve…I think I'm gonna go…' or 'Steve…I don't think we should see each other ever again…' or 'Steve… I'm gonna walk out that door, and I won't ever appear in front of you ever again.' All of which, to Steve, were pretty much the same as obtaining a free lease for a lifelong supply of shit.

All of a sudden, Steve couldn't bear looking at her, too afraid that if he so much as looked at her, then he would somehow catch her lips moving, and that the words which came out were those words which he dreaded most. He tore his gaze away from her face and focused on some non-existent spot on the kitchen counter instead.

For all his hesitancies and evasiveness, Steve knew damn well that he should really say something, make things right again. And it would be best if he said it quick, before she could utter the words which he so dreaded.

Ugh, to hell with plans, out with it, Rogers, come on! Steve pepped himself for his impending groveling task.

"I'm sorry that I yelled at you, Na-"

"I'm sorry that I snapped at you, Ste-"

Well. Apparently, both the soldier and the spy found their voices at the exact same time.

Interesting.

Okay, but seriously though, this simultaneity-in-their-speeches thingy was really starting to turn him on. Either he had the best timing in the universe, or he had just uncovered a hidden mind-reading superpower of the Super Soldier Serum. What was the deal with this simultaneity in their speeches anyway? When did they even start to have that kind of thing? Steve briefly entertained the notion of that same simultaneity being applied to other arenas aside from speech; such as in the bedroom, for instance. Like, it'd certainly be great if they could have simultaneous orga-

Ahem. Anyway.

Their eyes met across the kitchen counter. Stirring jolts of electricity through the still air as a result. Invisible sparks zapped across the space between them, sending tingles down each of their spines. Tingles, which neither of them would acknowledge afterwards.

Neither released the breaths that they were holding.

And then they both threw tentative smiles at each other, which in turn transformed into hearty chuckles, all of which occurring in perfect unison and beautiful synchrony.

Somewhere along their giggling fits, they had both lowered their gazes back onto the kitchen counter, too embarrassed to even look at each other.

When the laughter finally subsided, Steve regrouped and decided to let Natasha say her piece first, hoping that their shared chemistry wouldn't get in the way of effective communication this time.

"Ladies fir-" said Steve.

"You go fir-" said Natasha.

Only, both were uttered at the exact same time and at the exact same rhythm, again. So much for chemistry improving communication.

Maybe they should just forgo any attempts at conversations, and just let their bodies do all the talking instead. And then as a side bonus, they could even find out if their simultaneity do in fact exist in the bedroom after all.

Steve managed a tentative smile and a titter, "Sorry, Nat. Guess that happens a lot, huh?"

Natasha returned the smile, "It's alright… Think we can give Maximoff a run for her money?"

Steve's smile widened, showing two rows of perfect teeth.

"Don't think so. No." He shook his head slightly, "How about you go first, Nat?"

Natasha grinned at him, "Actually, I think you should go first. You senior citizens are prone to memory lapses after all. Should probably spit 'em out before you forget 'em…don't you think?"

Steve guffawed. Boy, how he loved her sharp wit, and even more so when it was used to crack another one of her grandad jokes at him.

"Alright then. I'll go first…" Steve agreed.

Natasha began rummaging through the Medi-Kit again while Steve collected his thoughts. She took out some cotton buds, a tube of antiseptic and a small bottle of distilled water from the kit before she started cleaning off the vodka from his wounds with the distilled water.

Steve began after a long while.

"I'm so sorry for yelling at you, Nat. That was wrong of me."

Natasha had already begun dabbing his wounds with antiseptic by then, but from the slight nod of her head, Steve knew that he had her attention.

"When I said that I didn't want you there with me in Siberia, it wasn't because I didn't trust you, Nat. It was because I didn't think I'd survive if I lost you." Steve said solemnly.

The spy processed Steve's words with care, and the cotton bud seemed to mirror the actions of its holder by slowing down its trajectory over his broken flesh.

At her silence, Steve went on, "Please, Nat. Believe me. It also wasn't because I didn't think you could handle yourself if you were there, Nat. I know that you can. But there were risks. Great risks. Tony, he…" Steve faltered.

The cotton bud stilled, and was soon abandoned on the countertop. The spy looked up at the soldier and took note of his distress.

The soldier sighed and shook his head.

"He lost it, Nat. He couldn't tell the difference between friend and foe anymore. Jesus…Nat, I was holding back…... I..." Steve's voice was thick with emotion; sadness, regret, and everything in between.

Natasha's hand rose to his cheek and stroked him tenderly. Steve leaned gratefully into her touch, savoring the comfort and warmth which emanated from her hand.

After a few moments, Steve picked up where he left off, "I was holding back. I couldn't fight him. Tony's my friend too… I merely did what I needed to do to stop him from killing Bucky, and to buy some time so that Bucky could scram. But God, Nat. Tony was going at me like he wanted me dead. He threw us everything he got. When I was down on the ground, he threw a punch at me that would've actually killed me if I wasn't quick enough to avoid it… He used missiles on us. And even his chest beam…his chest beam destroyed Bucky's metal arm… and his repulsors... I was hit by the repulsors at melee range… broke some of my ribs. Christ, Nat…"

Her hand slipped away from his cheek and settled itself on his forearm. Steve's cheek instantly missed the warmth and comfort of her touch. For a moment, he thought of chasing that hand, and putting it back right where it belonged – his cheek. But he didn't, because her index finger began tracing out loops of comfort on his forearm through his shirt sleeve.

"Look, I know how great you are. You're one of the most lethal fighters I've seen. But you're still human. And Tony's your friend too. And I know, that, like me, you would see him as a friend back in Siberia if you were there with me. I know that you'd hold back against him like I did, because I know you, Nat. But thing is, I'm afraid that he wouldn't hold back against you. Because like I said before, he's totally lost it." Steve said.

"And if anything happened to you…I..." Steve's voice cracked, "I wouldn't… I couldn't…"

Tears slipped down Steve's cheeks.

He sniffed and took a deep breath of composure, "I've lost enough people in my life. And I can't lose you too, Nat. I can't. You're too important to me. Do you understand that?" Steve pleaded.

"I know now, Steve. I get it now. I'm sorry. I'm very sorry." the spy stated firmly.

"Thank you." Steve replied gratefully.

Wanting to give Steve some space to collect himself, the spy picked up the abandoned cotton bud and resumed her work.

Steve regained his composure after 3 minutes of comfortable silence.

"And I also want you to know that I trust you. With everything. Believe me, Nat, I do." Steve said, ending the brief hiatus.

Her hand faltered once more. The cotton bud paused and hovered above his wounds. She looked back up into Steve's eyes, seemingly to seek confirmation for his words.

And God did Steve ever tried his damnest to give her just that.

"I trust you. More than anyone else. There's no other person on this planet that I would trust more than I trust you, Natasha. Nobody. Not even Bucky. Or else, I wouldn't have asked you to get Bucky's file for me." Steve spoke earnestly. He held her gaze with such intensity that he could literally feel his eyeballs being at the verge of popping out of his eye socks.

"Do you… do you really mean that?" The spy asked tentatively when she broke their eye contact, her voice barely above a whisper.

Steve nearly rolled his eyes.

One of these days, he was going to have to find a way to deal with her insecurities regarding her trustworthiness. One of these days.

"Yes. I meant every word, Nat." Steve restated with as much conviction he could muster.

"Thank you." She whispered.

"You're welcome." he whispered back.

His eyes sought hers.

Natasha busied herself with applying antiseptic on his wounds. He had a feeling that she was avoiding eye contact on purpose, but again, had decided not to call her out on it. Didn't want to ruin the mood.

But when Steve tried to read her face seconds later, he saw a flick of relief and…disbelief.

Disbelief, at the fact that she truly had his complete trust.

Oh… Nat. What have those bastards done to you…

Immediately, Steve's heart went out to the amazing woman seated right in front of him. She really hadn't a single fucking clue how amazing of a person she was, hadn't she? And the shittiest part was that no matter what he did, he still wasn't able to get her to see. To see how good she truly was.

Young Natalia Alianovna Romanova was a brilliant young girl with a propitious future. A person who deserved all the love in the world, the kind of person Captain America was meant to protect and fight for. Someone who deserved to be free, someone who had all the right to be free. But life was never fair. And reality, ever cruel. Before young Natalia had a chance to live her life and inscribe her own kismet, humanity's vilest invaded her life and took everything away from her. She was subjugated, tortured, used, objectified, and brainwashed. They took away everything. Her loved ones. Her soul. Her heart. Her mind. Her fate. Her choices. Her freedom.

That much Steve had known from Pierce's HYDRA files.

She had lost everything to those sick sons of bitches at the Red Room and KGB. Those cruel, and evil bastards who deserved to rot in hell for eternity. Steve's regret was that he couldn't be the one to send them there.

Young Natalia was forced into complete darkness. She was bludgeoned into the most profound depths of evil, by evil. However, what touched Steve the most about Natalia's life weren't the ordeals that were imposed on her, no. Instead, it was what she had become despite her ordeals that had proliferated Steve's admiration for the woman. In other words, Steve was deeply moved by the depths of Natalia's strength and resilience. From the moment Steve began studying her files, he had caught glimpses of what she had been through at the hands of those bastards, and he saw, he saw all the efforts she had made in order to fight her way out of evil's claws. And those were only the stuff that were actually in the files! Ever since overhearing… fine, eavesdropping, okay? Ever since he eavesdropped on Natasha's conversation with Bruce, he knew that there were a lot more things about her past that were left out of the files, and that some of those things were unknown even to Clint. He knew that there were a ton of other things about her past that were known only to herself and more recently to Bruce. And Steve's gut told him that those secrets she had shared with Bruce were probably a lot worse than the things he'd read from her files.

Worse secrets, darker secrets or whatnot, none of that mattered. Because whatever her secrets were, they wouldn't change one thing: which was the fact that Natalia amazed Steve to the depths of his heart.

It simply amazed Steve to see the person that she had become today despite everything she had been through. And yeah, speaking of the things that she was put through, there were still times where Steve would find himself almost in tears at the mere thought of them. Even until now, the things that he had read in her files still tugged at his heartstrings like how a 120-tonne electric tug would. Other times, he would feel his blood boil in rage whenever he thought of all the sick tortures that the Red Room had subjected her to. From the very moment he opened her file, he had made a vow to himself, that he was gonna kill those sons of bitches if he ever found any of them.

Young Natalia was strong. Time and again, she had shown tremendous strength in her mind, and in her heart. She endured. She rallied. She managed to fight back, and from the deepest of darkness, she had crawled her way back out into the light. In the end, she thrived. Steve could find no words, none at all, which would suffice in expressing the depths of her strength. He really couldn't.

The most alarming fact was that Natalia almost didn't make it. That terrifying thought still had the capacity to make Steve's blood run cold, even until this day. There were times when Steve would feel his skin crawl at the thought of Natalia never making it out of the darkness she was entrapped in. Steve silently thanked whatever Deity that existed for leading Clint Barton towards the discovery of Natalia. He really didn't know what would have happened to Natalia if it wasn't for Clint.

Clint Barton.

Clint Barton was a Godsend.

Clint Barton, the hero. The one who stood at the opening end of the dark tunnel that Natalia was trying so desperately to crawl out of. The man who had reached his hand out to Natalia instead of kicking her back down into the tunnel.

Clint Barton. The man who had grabbed hold of her hand and finally pulled Natalia out into the light.

Clint Barton was her savior.

Hell, Clint Barton was Steve's savior.

Hawkeye was sent to kill Natalia. He made a different call. Hawkeye was a fucking genius. Captain America owed Hawkeye a huge one.

At that, Steve made a mental note to himself to properly thank Clint for making that brilliant decision to spare Natalia's life back then, for giving Natalia a chance to be out in the light. Heck, Steve would give Clint a hug, help chop fifty years' worth of firewood supply for his farm, anything. Steve would give anything. He felt like he owed Clint for giving him a chance to know Natasha. But uh-oh, on second thought, wouldn't Steve also have the Red Skull to thank for that too? Yikes. Not much of a comforting thought, the latter.

Once out in the light, Natalia quickly became one of the foremost champions of good. She fought to protect, and she began saving lives, lots and lots of lives. She became an Avenger, and a damn amazing one at that too. But Steve could tell, that there were still scars left behind from her past. She was emotionally closed off. She was prone to using humor and her wit to hide her true emotions. She didn't like talking about her emotions. She preferred to bottle them all up. She became afraid to love – but it's probably safe to say that she had overcome this particular fear when she finally encountered her knight in that ridiculously large green armor. And worst of all? She was incapable of seeing the good in herself.

None of that would ever change Steve's opinions of her though. Steve could see that there was a lot of good in Natalia, no matter how much she tried to deny it. Steve knew with two hundred percent certainty that Natalia was a good person, a beautiful person.

Yes, Natalia was beautiful, both inside and out.

Only, she was clueless. No matter how many times he tried to show her, she just wouldn't believe her own beauty, her own goodness, and her own worth.

Jesus. What have those monsters done to such a beautiful person?

What Steve felt next was rage. Pure unadulterated rage. At those sick, inhumane monsters who did those things to her and to Bucky. HYDRA, the KGB… all the fucking bullies in the world. Steve Rogers hated bullies. He had had enough of bullies. No more pulling his punches. The next time he encountered HYDRA agents, he was gonna fucking kill them with a single punch.

Steve wanted to undo all those things that were done to Natalia. He didn't know if he could. But he had to try. She deserved to know how wonderful and beautiful she really was. She needed to be reminded of the good in her. Was he the right man for the job? He honestly had no clue, but he ain't giving no rat's ass. He would try his damnest to remove the shades that those bastards had put over her eyes, to get her to finally see the light, and to see colors. And most importantly, to see herself standing and shining in the light. He wanted her to be happy. He wanted her to be free.

Because Steve loved her.

The antiseptic tube was capped, and Natasha was already putting away the cotton buds back into the wrapper. The antiseptic induced a light stinging sensation on all the cuts, but they were meagre compared to what the vodka did.

Steve wanted to say something, anything, to comfort her, and to make things right between them again.

Steve reached across the counter top with his uninjured hand, and touched her shoulder, "Hey, listen. I know…that it is hard for you to believe what I told you before, about how much I trust you. But I won't give up. I will try everything in my power to prove it to you, to show you that you have my complete trust. I promise you."

Natasha let out a gentle breath, her eyes were glassy when she looked at him. But he didn't comment on it, he didn't joke. He didn't want to joke. He wanted her to know that he meant everything he said.

She whispered, "Thank you, Steve. That means a lot…"

"Always." said Steve as he removed his hand from her shoulder.

Another tear fell onto Steve's vest, and he sniffed loudly, "Sorry. Stupid pollen." He shook his head in embarrassment and quickly lowered his head.

"Yeah…I'm sure it is." Natasha smiled, giving him the benefit of the doubt.

Steve chuckled.

The spy smiled and patted his uninjured hand and rubbed it a couple of times, "And I'm sorry too… for doubting your trust. And for snapping at you."

Steve looked up, "Oh, no. It's okay. Nat. You don't have to-"

"No. I do. And I shouldn't have taken it personally…I mean about just now, when you said that you wouldn't want me there in Siberia if you were given another choice. It sounds stupid now, really. Arguing over a hypothetical if. But, I just want you to know that…that having your trust means a lot to me, Steve… So, when you said that you didn't want me there with you, for a moment it felt like you've lost confidence in me… and I guess I just got a little defensive…I'm sorry…"

"Nat. It's okay…You have every right to be mad, I shouldn't have said things so crassly. So I'm sorry too."

Natasha was toying with his sleeve when she went on, "Ever since the Red Room, I… I felt… I felt like I've lost part of my humanity. Like they've taken me apart and changed me into…" she hesitated, "into something else." She had wanted to say 'a monster' at first, but she knew that it would probably anger Steve again.

Steve rubbed affectionately at her hand that was smoothing over his sleeve.

She took it as a gesture for her to continue speaking.

"I felt dead inside… I don't feel human anymore. Like I'm just a tool, an empty shell without a soul."

Steve's gaze softened. But he remained silent.

"It wasn't as bad after I joined SHIELD, because I thought I was going straight and that SHIELD was my second chance. My second chance at being human. I thought I could…redeem my humanity by fighting alongside the good guys."

Steve exhaled, and placed his uninjured hand over hers in a comforting clasp. He knew where she was going with this, but he waited patiently for her to continue. He kept his hand there, letting her know that he was with her all the way.

"But then in that New Jersey bunker, we found out that SHIELD was HYDRA all along. I felt my whole world crashing down on me, Steve. My second chance, all that good I thought I had been doing, and all the lies that I had told, they were all for HYDRA. I had put so much into what I did for SHIELD, thinking that I was doing good, thinking that I was redeeming myself, but it turned out… it turned out in the end that I merely traded my soul from one devil to another. I was…devastated."

Yeah…that fateful day back at Camp Leigh, the day they discovered that what they had done in the past were all for nothing, heck, he himself had literally died for nothing. They were both devastated, to put mildly.

Steve held his tongue, waiting for her to say more.

"When the bogey came in, I nearly gave up…" she went on.

Steve's brows furrowed, "Gave up?"

Steve had a feeling that he wouldn't like what he was about to hear.

Natasha sighed, "Yeah…remember when you found that hole on the floor back at the bunker?"

Steve said, "Yeah…"

He really had thought that they were both going to die back then, and worst, die in vain. Not a pleasant experience for someone with an eidetic memory.

"I was going to throw the Project Insight flash drive over to you and…I uhh… I wasn't planning to jump into the hole with you."

"Oh, Nat…" Steve sighed and tightened his hold on her hand.

"I uh…I didn't… I thought that if I didn't go in with you, you would have a better chance of survival… I mean if you weren't wasting effort protecting me, then maybe you just might make it out alive….and…I didn't want to burden you or prevent you from fully protecting yourself…besides, I thought that I…" she hesitated again.

"You what?" Steve prodded gently.

"I thought that I didn't deserve to live." she finally said with a dejected sigh.

It took Steve literally everything, everything, to not let his emotion show on his face. He didn't want her to think that he was pitying her, because he knew she hated that.

Instead, Steve schooled his features and asked in a calm voice, "What stopped you? From giving up, I mean."

This time, the spy smiled and looked up into his eyes, "You, Steve. It was you."

Steve's jaw went slack, and his face was a combination of awe and perplexity.

The spy continued, "When you were picking up the metal grating covering that hole you found, like I said, I was already hesitating and I was about to throw the flash drive to you... But after you tossed the grating aside, you just… turned around back at me and gave me this…look, like you were expecting me to just jump into your arms and under your shield, like it was the most natural and obvious thing in the world, like it was…instinctive and… like as if your subconscious mind thought that my life was worth saving, Steve. And I just…" Natasha paused with a sigh.

Steve's eyes glazed over at the memory of those final few seconds when the missile hit the bunker. Yes, he did turn back and held his arms wide for her. He wanted to protect her. The thought of abandoning her to death never once crossed his mind. By the time she was in his arms, he could already feel the heat from the explosion and the shockwave trying to throw him off balance. But he stood firm and leaped into the pit with her in his arms. And when the whole building was crashing down on them, all he could think about was keeping her safe. He didn't care about anything else. Heck, he didn't even think about the fucking mission anymore at that time. All he wanted to do was to keep her alive. So he stood strong with his shield raised, and endured tons and tons of crashing concrete until it was over.

He also remembered feeling his heart stop at the sight of her unconscious figure. He remembered refusing to accept the possibility that she might already be dead and that he had truly failed her. He remembered picking up her limp body as he made his way out of the rubble. It wasn't until he saw her chest move that he had begun to breathe again.

The spy chuckled and picked up after her brief pause, "I guess at that moment, I just felt human again. I felt alive. Because you thought that my life was worth saving, and because you thought of me as more than just a tool, Steve. You thought that there's value in my life even after finding out that I had been lying and killing for the bad guys all along. You valued my life… and I just …I felt strong once more. So I chose to fight. To fight alongside you and to have your back."

And Steve couldn't have been any prouder of her for that, for choosing to fight back with all she had. He was so proud of her, and grateful too. He was lucky to have her by his side, watching his back. She was the best partner he could ever hope for.

Steve took a breath and smiled, "I'm glad you did. Because what we did in DC…" Steve exhaled, "We all couldn't have done it without you. We saved a lot of lives. You saved a lot of lives. Remember that, Nat."

Natasha smiled, but she kept quiet.

"And for the record, you are more than just a tool. And you are human, and one of the kindest, smartest and the most beautiful human being I've ever known too. I mean it, Natasha." Steve said with as much ferocity he was capable of.

Natasha blushed, "I…uh…I'm not sure if I deserve all that, Steve." She pulled her hand away from his firm yet not too tight grasp. And honestly, it surprised Steve that they had been holding hands for that long.

Steve sighed heavily, but commented no further.

One of these days, I'm going to prove it to you, Nat. One of these days.

"I guess I've never properly thanked you before." the spy said after a while.

"For what?"

"For saving me, back in New Jersey." Natasha said.

Steve's mouth opened in protest.

But she clamped her hand down onto Steve's left bicep to shut him up.

"You saved me, Steve, both physically and spiritually. You did. You saved my body from the building's collapse and you gave me a reason to live and to fight again. I owe you."

Steve shook his head, "You would have done the same for me…and aren't you forgetting something?"

"What?"

"Well, if it hadn't been for you, I would've been dead a long time ago too. Both me and Sam."

"When?" her brows creased.

Steve scoffed, "You saved our asses, Nat. And you don't even remember."

"Serves me right for hanging around the elderly so often. Seems like you've been rubbing off on me the wrong way." She quipped.

Steve laughed, "Hilarious, Nat. And I was talking about the highway… Don't you remember?"

"Okay…seriously, old man. What have you done to me?" Natasha said in mock horror.

Steve let out a laugh, but his expression turned serious right after, "Sam was driving. And the Winter Soldier climbed on top of our car. I didn't see his gun. So if you hadn't pushed my head away to the side, my head would've been blown off right then. Sam's too. You were amazing, Nat."

"Oh, right, yeah… that. I remember now."

"Try to keep it inside that beautiful head of yours would ya? If you forget about it again next time, God knows I might start pulling some grandma jokes on you too." Steve quipped.

Natasha did not blush at the compliment. Nope. She definitely did not. She cleared her throat.

"Anyway. After the bunker, that talk we had back at Sam's… That was the first time ever that you'd told me that you trust me, right to my face. It was the first time I felt so trusted by someone. And…it was also the first time I felt that there's value in my existence you know? Your words back then…they really gave me hope. Hope, that I'm still capable of bringing good to the world. You have no idea how much your words meant to me back then, Steve."

"I do now. And I meant what I said back then too. I trust you."

"Thanks… and because having your trust is so important to me…. so when I snapped at you just now… it was because you said something that might insinuate otherwise, and I just…God, everything that's been keeping me going until now…all my hopes and aspirations, they all stemmed from your words back then, Steve. So when you suddenly insinuated otherwise… it just felt like…it just felt like all my hopes were just crushed you know? Like…" Natasha sighed, struggling to find the right words.

Steve came to her rescue, "Hey. Hey, Nat. It's okay. I understand. I get it now, I really do."

The spy smiled her appreciation. The soldier felt compelled to say more.

"And again, for the record, having your trust means a lot to me too…which was..." Steve looked down on the countertop in shame. Oh…crap. He wasn't ready for this part of the conversation yet.

"Which was…?" Natasha prodded with a head tilt.

Steve sighed heavily.

"Which was why I compared myself to Bruce. I guess I had hoped that you would have trusted me enough by now to let me in as much as you let… other…people in…"

Natasha sighed, "Steve…"

Steve shook his head and chuckled, but his eyes were sad.

Steve tried to look indifferent, and added a light shrug, "But hey… we both know that I was in way over my head…" Steve gave out a forced laugh, "plus, it's not like you and I are, you know, together or anything. So, technically, it's none of my business…and I have no right to pry or to expect anything from you…so…" Steve fiddled with the fingers on his uninjured hand, "there was something else…"

He paused and thought hard before picking up where he left off.

"Right! The eavesdropping! Ugh…" Steve grimaced, "I'm so sorry about that by the way… it won't happen again, I promise." Steve attempted a smile, "And hey, who knows, you might not even have to worry about that anymore. Cause you know, like you always said, maybe after a couple of years I can't even hear that well anymore…being over a hundred years old and all that."

Steve shuddered inwardly.

Oh God. Just kill him now. That sounded so lame that it should be a crime worthy of a death sentence. Just kill him now, somebody.

"Steve, it's not tha-"

Steve held up his hand to stop her from saying further, and for some reason, Steve just couldn't stop talking from that point onwards, "Nat, no. Please. It isn't your fault, okay? You don't have to explain anything to me. You don't owe my anything. It was all me. I have no right to expect anything from you, Nat. I was out of line. Waayy out of line. You trusted Bruce with your secrets and your heart, I get that, and I should've respected that. Ugh, no. That didn't come out quite right. What I meant was, I do respect that. I respect the bond you two shared with each other and the…. feelings, you have for each other. And I know that the things that I've said just now, you know, while we were yelling at each other and all that…yeah, those things I said were disrespectful to your relationship, and I'm really sorry about that. But that was only because we were yelling at each other and I wasn't totally in control of my emotions – again, my fault – so the things I said just now, they're kinda like a heat of the moment thing. So I guess what I wanna say is that, despite how I acted just now, I still respect the relationship between you two. And of course I shouldn't have compared myself with Clint, Bruce and anyone else, really. You have every right to choose whom you wanna talk to or whom you wanna share your secrets with. I just don't have a say in it. Yet I acted as though I have a say in it. So yeah…I've acted way out of line this time, I'm sorry. None of this is your fault though, this is all on me. And, I'm sorry about that eavesdropping thing back then too. That was also wrong of me, obviously. But just for the record, I only eavesdropped for less than 2 minutes of your conversation, I swear. I stopped listening the moment you told Bruce that Clint had no knowledge of what you had just shared with him. So… yeah, you probably wouldn't have to worry about me knowing some of the things that you don't want me to know, because, like I said, I'd only listened for less than 2 minutes…Uh, all in all, yeah, I just wanna say that I really respect the relationship between you two. And I think that you two have a great thing going, I mean, uh…you and Banner have a special relationship, and you've found each other and I'm happy for you guys…really… And hey! Maybe after this I could even help you track down Doctor Banner, I mean you've helped me with finding Bucky's file and all that last time, it's only right if I return the favor somehow. But then again, you're one of the best spies in the world, why would you need me tagging along, you probably could've-"

Steve stopped rambling when he noticed Natasha's very amused expression staring back at him.

God, the beautiful smirk was back again. It was the same smirk she had given him back at Barton's farm a year ago, when she teased him about the 'language' thing (stupid Tony).

"Steve doesn't like that kind of talk…"

"You know what Romanoff..."

That smirk almost undid him back then, and it was about to undo him now.

"What?" Steve asked warily.

"Nothing. I just wanna see if you were ever planning to stop talking at some point…" Natasha said playfully.

"Right. Sorry. Go ahead. It's probably your turn now…" Steve rubbed the back of his neck.

Don't you know when to shut up, asshole? Idiot. Steve chastised himself.

Her face turned solemn.

"It was because I was afraid that I would lose you as a friend if I told you everything…" she began.

And just like that, Steve's eyes shone in understanding as the revelation hit him like a tsunami, and it made him feel like a bigger asshole than he already thought he was.

He said nothing more.

"I've done things, Steve. Despicable things. Some of which I'd rather forget… And I was just scared that after I tell you everything…you won't even be able to look at me the same way anymore. That I'd lose you as a friend for good. Our friendship means a lot to me, I can't lose that, I just can't…" the spy bit her bottom lip in hesitation.

The soldier waited.

The bottom lip was released at the same time she took a breath.

"It's not that I don't want to talk about it with you. I want to. It's just that…the more I come to value our friendship, the more I was scared of losing you. Every time, I would find myself not being ready to talk about it with you, no matter how much I wanted to. And I didn't think you would be able to understand even if I told you, because you are such a good person, Steve. I didn't think that a person as good as you would even be able to accept the things that I've done in the past…"

Asshole didn't even come remotely close to describing what Steve was feeling like right then.

The redhead continued, "But with Bruce, I was able to share, because, Bruce and I, it feels like we have..."

Only then did the second tidal wave of recognition and understanding hit him, and it hit him hard. Just like that, the final piece of the puzzle clicked into place. Steve tilted his head back and turned his head slightly to the side as he breathed in deeply through his nose. He understood now. He finally got it.

"Shared-life experience…" they both said in unison, completing Natasha's previous sentence.

Natasha nodded and smiled wanly.

She lowered her head and went on, "And I'm sorry if I've made you feel undervalued, or unappreciated, or if I've ever made you feel that I don't value our friendship as much. That isn't the case Steve, believe me."

When Natasha stopped talking and glanced back up at Steve, she saw that Captain America was back. There it was, that look. The look of pure determination that had always given her hope, the look that had always driven her to be better and to fight harder for the good. The look which made her stronger than ever. The look that had always inspired her.

That look, which was Captain America's superpower prior to the serum.

That look which reflected the sheer power of his heart and the indomitability of his will.

Natasha knew right then, that everything was going to be okay.

Because Steve would make sure of that.

He always did.

And he did.