{2}

Feeling the eruption of pain twist into the marrow of her laden bones; Natasha awoke up with familiar broad arms securing over her midsection. The smell of evening rain hung thickly over his jacket, when she was still a captive of her distant memories, still fighting with a struggle to break out from the void of the weaving nightmares that lurked within the cold walls of the Red Room. She responded to the softness of his voice in the darkness. It was a gentle tone that lulled her clustered thoughts to shift back into reality.

His breath ghosted over her face and the warmth of his body made contentment settle back within her wounded body. She managed to peel her eyes open, armed and guarded from emotion, but steady on his chiseled face glowing in the mushy shades of night, and her vision was hazed with tears that sat in her eyes. She couldn't remember his name at first, the thralls of pain from the bullet lodged in her shoulder kept her in vacant train of thought. All she saw was dingy street light shining through curtains of rain. Streams of red from lights were imprisoned in the heavy drops of the downpour.

"Easy Nat, you took a shot to your shoulder. I'm lifting you up gently. Tell me if I'm hurting you?" Steve whispered, his voice a comforting beckon, pulling her out of the tempest. She hissed lightly as throbbing and pressure began to invade, letting her know that the bullet was sinking deeper into compromised muscle, no matter how much she fought against the sting and numbness, the pain grew stronger. It had always been there.

"Steve," she whispered and her voice was still raspy from being unconscious. Her tongue was growing thick in her mouth; she tried to regain her normal, husky tone.

He narrowed his obscured blue eyes at her shoulder, pressing his hand over the deep wound, softly and protectively. He was easing the sickening tension. The warmth of his fingers caressed over the blemished skin; giving her relief. "Save your strength, Nat." he soothed, hush and serene. His right hand cupped lightly over her jaw, stroking through the knotted and drenched ringlet of scarlet. "I need to get you to a hospital." he breathed out sharply, his hand still encompassing over her shoulder. "You're losing too much blood. I can't risk losing you... "

"Stop being so dramatic, Rogers." she winced; her body reacted to the thrall of pain with a jerky writhe of her limbs. Instinctively, she clutched his forearm, and squeezed. Her thoughts muddled and hazed coated over her eyes. She gritted her teeth, and growled with an unstable breath, "I'm fine."

Steve shook his head, "Stop lying, Natasha. You're not fine." He echoed back with his adamant blue eyes meeting her hardened glare. "I know you want to put up the fight, if we don't get the bullet out of you, then, your arm with become useless with nerve damage. That is price I will not let you pay."

"This is not your life, Steve. I knew the risks when I took my eyes off of my target. It's all a part of the survival game." Natasha rebuffed, her body cradled limply in his arms; she felt his hand support her lower back as her shoulder length hair framed over her paled face. "Everything we do is for our freedom. Yes, we become wounded from battle, that's the price when you pull the trigger. Sometimes there isn't an easy way out." She slammed her eyelids, scrunching her face tight as a hiss escaped from her throat. Slowly, her heart rate drop a little. Impending anguish from the entwines of muscles locking began to register in her elbow joint and trailed downward to her wrist. She looked around the desolated area in disbelief, trying to grasp the details around her. She hated feeling vulnerable and unequipped to defend herself from the encroaching shadows folding in the entrapment of her acute gaze.

Losing the one you love will bring you into awful, dark, imprisoning labyrinth of regret. When listened to Natasha's breathing patterns growing faint against his chest, fighting and breaking the knots of dread while acting careless, he saw through her mask. He found the real woman suffering as the darkness in her grayish irises lifted the moment he stepped under the glow of the streetlight. He saw her pain.

"You don't have to put on a brave face for me, Nat." Steve said, the honest words coiling up his raw throat. He hesitated for a long moment; calumniating his next move for bringing her to safe place. Blood leaked down his knuckles, he didn't care, the rain washed the maroon off the flesh of his hand. He put all his concern into his stern, teary gaze, leveling his empowering blue eyes at her face. His eyebrows creased into a serious expression as the ultimatum of choice pressed over his heart. "How far is your apartment from here?" He met her eyes for another long moment. "Do you even live in the city?"

"You read my file," she gave him a weak smile. "You know the location of my current resistance."

Steve drew out a ragged breath, revealing his inward frustrations. "That is too far. We need to find a some close by, the amount of blood your losing will make you fall into shock if we don't hurry."

"I don't want anyone else knowing about this, Rogers." she grounded out firmly, clenching her jaw. Her eyes lingered over the pools of water cascading down the sewage drain, cleansing her blood out of view. "Clint and Stark need to be left in the dark. My business doesn't involve the Avengers. You better keep your mouth shut."

Steve nodded, slowly and without a protest. "I'll keep my mouth shut, Natasha, but if your injury claims you in any way. I will be calling everyone." He pressed his lips into a firm line, swallowing down the taste of the rain. Natasha settled her glazed eyes back to him, giving him a cold and gloaming stare. She knew he was holding his ground, and that he wouldn't let her stubbornness control the situation. "Think about that?"

As irrational as it seemed, Natasha felt the bubbling fury surge in her veins. She wanted to ram her fist into his perfect chiseled jaw, watch it bruise in the wake of impact. He was stronger than her, his skin felt like iron to her dainty hands, and he also healed within days. He never carried scars of past battles, not the physical ones, but she refused to allow him to control her. She wanted to be ruthless and remove her knife. She wanted to make him bleed out his resilient heart. "I'm not following your orders, Rogers. I'm not one of your damn Howling Commandos."

He stiffened his jaw, and with smooth motion he brought his hand to her face. "You're right, Natasha, I know you're not a soldier, but you are someone I care about. Not as a friend, because you said I would be entering the wrong business, but something more..." His voice trailed, and blue eyes drifted to the street corner. "During the years of war, I've lost too many who I loved...Some were good friends and one was a brother." Steve felt the guilt swill down his throat and encase over his heart. His temperate irises gleamed with olden pain and resentment.

Natasha watched his emotions unravel, threads were being pulled and tears started to build. Unsettled, she lifted her shaky hand, and her thumb brushed over his bottom lip. She lulled to kiss him, break the tension and seize his lips with liquid heat. She wanted to feel the softness of his mouth fold into a interlock, without crossing the barriers of his heart. She inhaled softly, eager for his warmth to blanket over her chilled skin. "What I am to you, Steve?" she asked in a whisper, yearning for him to confess the truth, the words that she already known and waited to hear from his mouth. "I want the honest truth, soldier?"

His face withered with dismal emotions. "The honest truth?" he gulped down, a stiff ache persisted in his chest, making him feel breathless in those few seconds when he stared intently into her eyes. "You're my partner, Natasha." he added, taking her left hand gently, and bringing to his lips, as he pressed hard over her knuckles, kissing the icy flesh with the liquid heat his lips produced as he suckled over the bones. "You're someone who I care about, not because it's my duty to protect you from harm's way...It's because I made choice from the first time I saw you standing next to Banner. For that moment, I know that I would become your shield as you are to me."

She felt his breath caress over her skin, and twisted her lips into a genuine smile. "That is one of the most vapid things I have ever heard," she managed to jab her right elbow into his chest. "Then again, you're out of practice, old man."

"Yeah," he replied sheepishly, and dropped his head low, allowing his lips to compress warmth on her forehead. "Well, I'm practicing every day."

Despite, the invasive pain shooting through her body, Natasha managed to laugh. It was a beautiful sound, and it cut through the grim darkness around them.

He felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips, holding his kiss on her frigid brow; wanting to unleash his avow to her. Instead, he held her close, enough to feel her heart beating, and strode down the sidewalk, looking for a safe house to keep her well sheltered.

Natasha closed her eyes, unable to fight off the exhaustion and brushed her lips, hotly, over his strong, trusting and brave heart. She already was protected.