Sitting at his desk, Steve was typing some nth report Director Fury has asked for. If there was one thing he had a hard time to appreciate in this new time, that was definitely all this endless -in his opinion pointless- paperwork. Why settle for one when you can get plenty? seemed to be this new millenium's motto. He missed the time when each and every action or decision made in the field didn't need to be explained in a long paragraph. There was a time you could make a call without having to depict it rationally because, for most of the time, it was a gut decision. Battling in the field and putting it into words on a report were two completely different matters which he didn't expect the bureaucrats sitting in their offices to understand.

He printed out the report and quickly skimmed through it as he walked back to his desk. He signed it then he opened the top drawer to reach for his stamp but didn't find it. He pulled the second drawer open and halted at the sight of the large envelop lying there. It seemed like he hadn't seen it in ages although he knew oh too well what was in it -or rather, what wasn't in it. Funny how the past and the regret it always brought along could catch you again at the most unexpected time, in the most unexpected places. Funny how his greatest disappointment was now lying at the bottom of a drawer.

He hadn't had a look at the photographs since that day the envelop had been delivered to him and he didn't wish to do it again any time soon. Even if Natalie was nowhere to be seen in all those pictures, they were all haunted by her ghost. He pictured her leaning on each wall, standing in every corner, sitting at every table. The absence of her filled every empty spot in those photographs.

Steve closed the drawer slowly and found the stamp standing by the computer screen but his mind had already started to wander back into the past. Not as far as 1942, but to nearly a year ago, when he was waiting for her file to be sent to him. Time could indeed accomplish miracles; as he put himself back into his own shoes as he was being informed that no data on Natalie could be found, it didn't hurt him as much as it did back then. The burn he had felt at the time was absent now, only the scar it had left tingled him at the memory.

Every thing deserved a closure (or a continuation in the best case scenario) and he had been deprived of his, however he had learned to live with this void inside of him. His only comfort was that he had been fortunate enough to find one with Peggy (who he kept on visiting almost every weekend) and that Bucky had gotten his, too. James was currently planning his trip to Europe to visit his brother's family. Something that made his best friend both thrilled and nervous about.

To fill the void of his greatest unfinished business, Steve put every effort into closing every other part of his past he still had control over. It meant visiting his late companion's families, watching videos of Howard's conferences and catching up with decades of new techologies and scientific discoveries. He reckoned he had been doing pretty fine until two minutes ago when he felt the void crack slightly deeper. The urge to fill it up fast emerged.

As he pressed the stamp on the paper and closed the file, he recalled there was still a matter he had never gotten to finish. Insignificant it would seem now -after so many years- but that still deserved he would look into it (again).

He stood up and left his office promptly, as curiosity and genuine interest slowly rose inside him.

"Agent Hill," he called as he walked into the intel office.

She flipped on her heels and gave him a solem look. "Captain Rogers."

"I would need you to dig up and find a file for me. Try to gather as much intel as you can."

"You'll have it," she nodded at once. "Who is it about?", she asked. Her question seemed to bring up memories to the both of them. Agent Hill seemed determined to fulfill his request this second time around.

"It's not exactly about a person. Not anyone I know at least," he said. "It's an investigation that was run following one of the most important missions we had with the Howling Commandos."

"Arnim Zola's capture and the myserious stranger that was on the HYDRA train with you" she finished, nodding to herself, as she crossed her arms over her chest and smirked.

He frowned. "You know about it?"

"Everybody in S.H.I.E.L.D. knows about the Howling Commandos' missions. And about the stranger agent on the train even more," she commented. Then she added: "It was never solved though."

"Good. Forward me the file." He slightly tucked the corner of his mouth into a smirk. "I'm going to solve it."

He gave Hill a nod and started walking off.

"What for?" she asked fairly curious. "Let's face it, this mysterious female agent probably died years ago."

At least, that made one woman he might still have a chance to find.

He turned to her and the prospect of putting a closure on one unresolved situation from his past pleased him more than anyone could understand.

"Call it unfinished business," he said determinedly before walking out of the room.

Steve was leaning on the kitchen counter, drinking coffee as the first bright rays of light started to flip through the blinds into the apartment. Bucky arrived, dressed and ready for the new day, except this morning, he had a visible frown across his forehead.

"So," Bucky began casually, pouring himself some coffee. "What's up?"

He shrugged. "Nothing"

"Yeah?" Bucky said glancing behind his shoulder at him. He walked round the counter, across from his best friend. There was something in his look that betrayed his real intentions. "Nothing at all? Not even that thing you don't seem to want to tell me about but that I do know about anyway?"

The corner of his mouth rose slightly then he held his mug up to his lips and took a sip he seemed to particuarly enjoy at this very second as if his being a step ahead in this conversation gave the coffee a richer taste.

Steve stiffened slightly.

"Good," he went on with contement. "Now that I have your attention, do you mind telling your pal what you're up to, exactly?"

Steve's mind went erect like an emergency alarm that had been set off. His first instinct was to recall where was the last place he had left his drawing book. He had officially finished the portrait a few days before and kept it ever since into the drawer of his bedside cabinet, peeking at it from time to time when he felt the urge. But Bucky's expression shook up his deepest certainty that his secret was safe. It was rare that Steve kept any secret from him, and funnily enough, it seemed that when he did have one, it was always somehow related to Natalie. Not that he had ever taken him long to unveil it, anyway.

"What are you talking about?" he asked cautiously, tiptoeing around, testing the waters.

Bucky shrugged with a disinterested, innocent look. "You know, the mysterious stranger on the HYDRA train."

His muscles relaxed and he slowly let out the breath he had been holding.

Buky stroked the wooden counter, wiping off the inexistant dust of it. "Not that new sketch of yours that you keep hidden in your book," he continued then he looked at him with a triumphant smile. "That would be very tactless of me."

The initial shock of this unexpeted revelation soon disappeared to leave room for indignation.

"I can't believe you snooped through my stuff," Steve exclaimed.

Bucky seemed to show absolutely no sign of remorse to the pint it compelled admiration. "I was in urgent need of paper and you had so kindly left your book out in the open."

Bucky was having a hard time concealing the wide smile rising up on his face.

"Cut the crap," Steve muttered. "You haven't used paper since 1931."

Bucky held his hand to his chest, feigning being stabbed right in the heart. "Who's being tactless, now?"

A short silence followed. It would be an overstatement to say Steve was angry at his best friend for being nosy -and part of him suspected that it had been out of concern that Bucky had had a look at the book after observing him drawing in silence for several days-, but yeah, he was probably slightly annoyed.

"Plus I thought we had no secrets for each other ever since you mooned me in Coney Island that day of summer 1936," Bucky added with the perfect tone to make him sound like a pervert before sipping his coffee, again, with great satisfaction.

It threw him back to that sunny afternoon they had spent on the beach, young and carefree, Bucky wooing and being wooed by girls while he carried a thick towel over his shoulders to a) avoid catching another pneumonia, and b) because he was self-conscious of people's looks at his thin, fragile figure. Bucky and his mother were pretty much the only people he didn't dread they would judge him silently.

"You wish you were bigger and I wish I were smarter," Bucky looking at him through his shades. He had made up and decided he would join the army, the only job he could be good at without messing up everything. "What you look like doesn't define you. I know a dozen chums broad as trees but that don't have your strength."

"What strength?" Steve answered, crouching on the sand as he gently readjusted the towel that was falling off his arm.

Bucky turned to look at him and took off his sunglasses. "The one that you carry around like a shield against people's trifling prejudices and society's mind-numbing, stultifying standards and that will you take you to the top," he said with the most composed, unquestionable confidence. "You're not as little as you think."

Steve looked up at him and grinned slightly. "And you're not so dumb yourself...every now and then."

Bucky looked amused and reached over to pat his back. "See? We totally got our chances."

Then he put his shades on again and lay down on the towel.

But Bucky was here bringing up another 'highlight' of this day.

"First of all," Steve started. "I didn't moon you like you say, I was changing my swim shorts for dry underwear; and second, you're the one who came from behind and flipped my towel away."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Details," he protested dramatically. He then added: "Anyway, it's a very nice drawing. Beautifully executed. It's a portrait of..." He trailed off, his tone, albeit neutral, seemed to be a tad interrogative as if he dared him to confess by himself.

"Natalie, obviously," Steve answered matter-of-factly.

Bucky gazed at him over his mug. "Right," Bucky said quietly with a faint spark in the eye he couldn't quite identify.

"How do you know I asked for the file?" Steve changed subject.

Bucky followed.

"Hill -agent Hill- came and asked me if I wanted a copy of it, much to my surprise."

"You mean she came all the way to your office?" Steve said with unhidden consternation, furrowing his brows.

Bucky gawked at him. "Yeah, why?"

"Cause she can barely stand you, here's why."

Over the months, the relationship between her and Bucky had taken quite a funny curb. The initial respect and admiration she had for the both of them had split into two different directions. With Steve, it carried down on the same path and evolved into genuine esteem while with Bucky, it took a detour and progressively morphed into mild irritation, exasperation and intolerance. She would watch him from the corner of her eye with utter disdain or fold her arms across her chest and slightly pivot her body away from where he was standing when he started to speak. Although Steve couldn't exactly pinpoint when the breaking point had happened, he would say it begun after Bucky started to crack some teasing comments and show off his natural flirtatious persona. She would often respond to his attempts at getting cozy with sharp comebacks always uterred with the most uneflexible tone of voice.

"She doesn't not stand me! Where did you get that from?"

"Her repulsed expression and her barby comments, for one."

It was funny how the conversation had steered and how the tables were turned. Bucky was now the one looking utterly outraged while Steve watched him with an entertained smirk.

"Tasha gives me crap on a daily basis!"

"Except, it's totally different. It's just some playful teasing fondness coming from her. With Maria Hill though... The very fact you can call Natasha Tasha proves my point."

Bucky shrugged it off, sulking, and strangely enough, shushing himself.

"If you say so. Apparently you know best," he muttered quietly. "Anyway, she fought off the overwhelming aversion she feels for me and was in my office because you know, you and I were both took part in that mission. Therefore she assumed I might be interested in having the file as well."

A big smile took over.

He put the mug down and looked across at him. "So what is this about? I appreciate your trying to avenge me for that nasty hit I got in the head but much water has flowed under the bridge."

He smirked teasingly. "I allow you to let go."

Steve shook his head, smiling.

"Don't tell me you've never wanted to know, though? We're talking about someone who was clever and efficient enough to lead a mission along ours, who undermined everybody but yet who didn't harm us when she could have easily done it. I guess part of me wanted- still wants- to understand who this woman was and what her motives were." He paused and smirked. "Besides, you know, clearing your honor."

"Who says it had anything to do with us? It coul be a personal vendetta."

Steve shook his head, dubious. "Clearly not Zola. She vanished without even trying to reach the head of the train."

"Because she didn't expect us. She found us on her way and had to abort the mission."

He wondered if Bucky had had a look at the file yet, or if he had accepted to get a copy when Hill asked for that matter.

"Except according to the investigation, it is very likely she got on the train from Switzerland. Why wait so long? She could have reached Zola a long time before the train arrived at our curb."

Bucky crossed his arm over the counter and bent a little forward. "So you think she knew we were coming?"

It seemed far-fetched, quite illogical knowing she hadn't even tried to hurt, but it was the only explanation that made sense so far.

"The CCTV shows she attacked barely a few minutes before our mission started. This can't be a coincidence."

Bucky shrugged. "Maybe she was an agent hired by our own government. People who didn't think we would be able to catch Zola and who sent her as plan B."

Steve remained quiet. This theory could have been plausible if it weren't for the fact she was female. Peggy had only managed to make it to a boot camp and thus even after proving her value a hundred times over. She was the best agent out there, but still no better than any man soldier. There was no way that in the fourties a secret governmental agency would have put the fate of one of their most major missions to winning the war into the hands of a woman.

"There are still some blanks in this story," he said. "And this is exactly why I required the file. So I can fill them."

Bucky nodded. He agreed in silence as he couldn't think of any counter-argument to voice aloud.

A couple of days later, Natasha was in for the evening and had brought pizzas. After eating, Bucky glanced at his watch and hopped down his stool.

"I gotta go," he said as he put on his leather jacket. He went over to the table, grabbed a slice of pizza and bit into it. "I have a date."

A date Steve had been aware of for a few days but yet didn't know much about. Bucky had remained disturbingly quiet about.

"This time it's different."

It was the only thing Buck had been willing to share. That could be a good sign.

Natasha snorted. "Tell her I'm sorry."

Bucky responded by picking up the slice laying on her plate and shoving it into her mouth. She snickered while chewing the bit she had been forced to eat and put the remaining back into the plate.

"You're just disappointed I'm not giving you 100% of my time," he winked at her and rushed to the front door, leaving the two of them alone in the apartment (something Steve no longer found awkward).

After a few minutes, Steve put the dishes into the sink whilst Natasha folded the cardboard boxes and shoved them into the trash can. It had become a natural routine.

She then went over to the living room and slumped into the couch.

"So another date?" she commented.

"Yeah. Bucky won't tell me more about it, though. Not that I'm complaining. But it doesn't mean I don't wonder why."

"Hmm, I may have my little idea," he heard say quietly.

"What?" he asked, fairly intrigued.

"Hey. What's this?" she called and he threw a glance behind his shoulder. Natasha was holding the file high in the air for him to see. "Can I have a look at it?" she had the courtesy to ask.

"Suit yourself. It's a bit your apartment too after all," he said amusingly. He was pretty sure Natasha spent more time here than in her own place although he didn't really know why. He suspected it had something to do with the fact she didn't like loneliness. Another thing they had in common. Those first few weeks waiting for Bucky to wake up had been the worst.

Natasha smirked and opened the file, skimming the first pages.

"What is it?" she asked. He wiped his hands into the teatowel nearby then walked over to the sofa.

"An old mission in Germany that didn't go exactly accordidng to the plan." He frowned a little, remembering what Maria had said. "But I thought every agent of S.H.I.E.L.D knew about it."

Natasha took her eyes off of the file and smirked. "Well, I haven't always worked for S.H.I.E.L.D as you know," she said then turned her attention back into the case.

He told her about that day, the mission and the intruder on the train. She listened with much interest.

"So you were the first to conclude it was a woman?" she questioned looking at all the photographs and documents she had spread over the table to have a clear and broad at it all.

"Well, afterwards, we found this hair pin," he said, pressing his finger on the picture showing the item. Although still covered with stains of dry blood, it was both distinguished and made into a solid, and therefore expensive material.

"So it's very likely she used that same pin to unlock the door of the wagon," she mused aloud.

He nodded. "According to the documents, the security on the train was at its highest. Each passenger had to be searched before getting on the train."

Natasha listened carefully and read through all the reports and conclusions.

"She was very good," she eventually commented. "And I'm only admitting this cause her style is very similar to mine. Well, this is how I would have proceeded if I had to break into a military train."

"She must have been from the upper class if she had been granted the right to buy a ticket."

Natasha shook her head slightly. "This may only be a diversion to make the investigators look the other way. For all we know, she might have gotten this ticket in less conventional manners."

He looked at her concentrated face as her eyes swept across all the papers. "As in replicate it?"

Natasha shrugged. "Maybe, but it's still too big a risk to be refused on board. For this type of missions, you can't leave anything to chance. The ticket had to be 100% authentic. She could have stolen it. Any record of a theft claim?"

Natasha was remarkably in tune with that mysterious woman. On the investigations they had carried out together before, she had always managed to think like the criminal she was hunting or like the prisoner in the interrogation room she wanted to crack (and she always succeed) and this time was not any different except for the fact there was no disdain or seeing this woman as inferior to her; she treated her like a formidable equal who deserved her full attention and to an extent, her admiration.

Steve mentally went through all the papers that were in the file and that he had read many times over. "Not that I can recall."

"I'll look into it," she said.

Natasha looked focused and engrossed into the case. He realized the investigation had moved forward a lot thanks to her input. There was a reason Fury often put them together on a case and it was due to their mutual understanding and partnership. They reasoned and fought as if they complemented each other. And here they were doing it again on a seventy-one year old case.

She soon grew just as frustrated as he was not to have not even the slightest idea of what this agent looked like.

"What about the other passengers and the waiting staff? No physical description?" she asked.

"It took a long time to track the witnesses most of them had died by then and the others couldn't recall any person who stood out."

She smiled. "Sometimes the best witnesses are those you fail to see."

She reached for a picture, a black and white only photograph that had been taken for the launching of the train. She pointed at a stern looking woman standing on the platform, holding the hand of her son who was playing with a cup-and-ball.

She tapped slightly on where he was standing. "Maybe he saw something."

It wasn't the strongest lead but still the best one he had. Now it was all a matter of luck. Finding the mother's name, tracking the son hoping he was still alive and that he could easily be contacted.

Eventually, they ran out of clues (for the simple reason this mysterious woman had ensured to leave as little of them as possible) and they gathered up all the papers.

As they cleared the table whilst he put everything back into the file, he heard Natasha say:

"And what's that?"

He looked up just quick enough to watch her reach for his drawing book that he had stupidly left on the table when the door bell went off. His chest squeezed and every muscle into his body tensed. Just the mere thought of Natasha seeing the portrait literally terrified him, and the conversation that would ensue just as much. Perhaps Natasha would be simple about this, maybe she would understand it was Natalie -and in the process would realize how far from the truth he was when he had said she looked a lot like her-, but he still wasn't ready for it. He wasn't ready for her to confront the image of her lookalike and part of him didn't want her to know the big place she still held in his current life.

"No!" he cried out and bounced using the speed the super serum had bestowed on him to grab it and jerk it as far away as possible from her just when her fingers grazed it. He protectively clutched it against his chest and felt himself relax instantly .

Natasha stared at him, both puzzled and amused.

"You know you send contradictory signals, don't you?" she teased referring to his sudden change of behavior.

"Sorry," he said with a casualness that didn't exactly fit his panic crisis from two seconds ago. "I don't like to show my drawings."

Natasha gazed at him, genuinely surprised. "You draw?"

He nodded. "Just some doodling."

She looked curious, eager to hear further details about this secret hobby, but she retreated somehow.

"I get it," she shrugged, mirroring his easy tone. "I don't like it either when someone comes anywhere close to my assortment of firearms and knives."

He mused about this one a little. "Hmm, I guess."