AN: I forgot to mention in the description this story contains spoilers if you haven't seen TWS yet. Also, I took some creative liberties with a scene from the movie and moved it to where I needed it. One, possibly two, more chapters before this is complete. Depending on how long winded I get.

2

The sun was peeping over the horizon as they rolled back into DC. Natasha had done a mental assessment of her injuries and thought Steve's report had been fairly accurate. She was sure of the concussion, because nothing else could cause such a blinding headache. The ribs she decided, were probably only bruised. For a split second she allowed herself to relive the gentle brush of his finger tips over her midsection. So light and so quick, she thought she had imagined it. But the gentleness on his face had confirmed it, and the sincerity in his tone, combined with everything else, had rendered her speechless.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. His demeanor was relaxed, but she could see the wheels turning in his mind. Assessing the nights events? Calculating the next move? Probably both. He was never at rest. Never. It was her favorite of all his qualities.

His eyes flicked sideways and caught her staring, "How's it going?"

"Just processing information. I assume you have a plan on how we are going to get safely back into DC when half the country is looking for us?"

A boyish grin broke out on his face, "Of course. I'm going to introduce you to one of my friends."

An eyebrown went up, "Steve Rogers has friends? I thought you said your barber shop quartet was dead?"

He chuckled, "Feeling better I see. They are. This is a new friend. Name is Sam. I see him at the park sometimes in the morning. He's a good guy, safe."

"And you realize that we are fugitives right? If he is caught sheltering us..."

His face clouded up. It was a neccesary risk, one he had calculated no doubt, but one that wasn't so easy to justify.

She softened her tone, "I'm not trying to kill your plan Steve, I just don't want..." Words failed her. They always did, the sincere ones at least. Her mind could spew an endless stream of witty sarcastic remarks at the drop of a hat, but go completely blank as soon as the conversation turned toward anything remotely emotional.

"I know what it means. There are no other moves though. We have to regroup. We have to plan," he hesitated, then rested a hand on her knee, "Natasha, I have to know you're okay."

His words collided with her like a speeding bullet and she jerked her knee from under his hand, recoiling at his touch, "Do you think I did this? That I drug you out to the middle of nowhere and set you up? That I'd add your name to my list of ki-"

"No," Steve cut her off in mid sentence and expertly weaved the Buick into the parking lot of a small strip mall. "No, I do not think that," He threw the car into park, more forcefully than he wanted, and turned to face her, "And quite frankly I'm insulted you thought it. I have to know you are healthy Natasha. Healthy. You were just unconscious for two hours, you've fidgeted in your seat the entire drive trying to get comfortable, you keep glancing at me out of the corner of your eye, you seem nervous." He exhaled sharply, letting his anger flow out, away from him, "That's not the Tasha I know," his tone was more calm, and he tucked a thumb under her chin, forcing her to look at him, "I care about you. I care about what you think, what you feel. That's all."

His eyes held hers, searching, finding the fear again, before it was carefully tucked away. He slid his hand just below her ear, his thumb gently tracing over a fresh scratch, "It's okay to be afraid Nat," he pulled her to him and brushed his lips against her forehead, "It's okay to ask for help."

She sunk her teeth down onto her bottom lip trying to fend off the rush of emotion surging through her. Head bent against his chin, she whispered into his chest, "If it were me, if your life was in my hands back there, would you trust me to save it?" She forced herself to meet his his calm blue eyes.

"I would now." A single tear slid down her cheek and he felt a pang in his heart. He had never witnessed the woman behind the iron clad Black Widow walls. "And now is all the matters Tasha." He leaned back to his seat, resisting the urge to wipe the tear, not wanting to push too hard and scare her back into her shell. Instead, he drove forward, merging back into traffic.

She wiped her eye with the back of her index finger and stared out the windshield, "I need time Steve."

He nodded and laid his hand back on her knee.