Chapter Two: You're on to Something
Someone To Need You Too Much…
Because of course it comes to this. Her standing between him and… everything.
Bucky is behind him and freedom is in front of him and she plants herself between.
This has to end. They are destroying each other. Can't he see that?
Steve's eyes are resigned and regretful and she knows.
"You're not gonna stop."
It's not a question. Not even a plea.
Natasha knows better.
Stay.
Can't.
Soft whispered requests never answered in the affirmative.
The world mutes around them. A moment, a heartbeat, a flicker for them alone. Blue eyes on green and that sudden feeling of loss. It wasn't supposed to be like this.
They weren't supposed to be like this.
"You know I can't."
This is how it ends.
Can't.
He was never made to hurt anyone. Crushes her anyway. Flings a star emblazoned shield straight at her heart. Shatters the smallest smattering of hope she holds. The one she denies having, ignores lead smudged fingers that tug at that part of her that is all too human.
That he let be human.
Let her be good.
Let her be more than what she was created for.
Can't.
He was never made to hurt anyone.
She was.
There is a battle raging outside. Metal on metal, friend versus friend.
There is a battle raging within.
She was created to inflict maximum damage. Her weapon is charged. She will not be moved.
This is how it ends. Sounds of battle in the air and her on one side and him on the other. Her standing between him and everything.
This is not how it began.
It began with late night drives to nowhere and music from the radio and moments where they were the only ones in the world. It began with the sound of his voice singing softly along in her ear, his hand warm in her own, and a look that reflected back someone better than she knew herself to be.
Wanted to be. For them. For him. For herself.
The light isn't the same in his eyes. It's tinged with doubt and a plea- prove me right.
Bright blue eyes bore into hers. Beseeching. Begging.
Needs her too much. Wants more than she knows how to give.
Stay.
A whisper in her ear that she ignored all those nights.
Stay.
It echoes in the could-have-beens discarded around them, dead dreams that linger in the air.
Can't.
She understands all too well.
She aims her widow's bite. She will not be moved.
This is how it ends. Her standing there. Planted firmly.
"I'm going to regret this." Adds it to the pile. Another mistake.
That's all she can seem to make when it comes to him.
She fires.
It wasn't supposed to hurt like this.
"Go."
Tells him to leave. Fires- again and again. Makes a stand. Buys him precious seconds.
This is how it ends.
With her standing between him and everything.
.
.
Someone To Know You Too Well…
"I thought S.H.I.E.L.D. taught you to avoid first floor access."
She's impressed that Sharon doesn't flinch.
Maybe they both knew at some point this would have to happen.
The blonde shrugs, "I hadn't really planned to be on the lam this week. Worked with what I had."
"You knew what would happen when you took that shield."
"I don't regret it."
Showdown- high noon.
Natasha refuses to speak. She won't draw first. Sharon is green and eager. She is worn and battle beaten.
"Was actually a lot easier than I thought it would be… getting the shield." Clarification is not needed. Can't be talking about this. Because none of this is easy.
It's a tentative toe, wading into waters neither quite know how to handle.
"I might have cleared a path."
It all leads straight to him.
"Will you do me a favor? Call that nurse."
Natasha always knew he deserved better than her.
She was never going to be able to be that girl.
Stay.
Can't.
Doesn't matter how much she wishes she could have been.
It's over.
Almost over.
Loose ends. That's all that's left. All she can offer him now. Tie them into a neat little bow for him. Her last gift.
Not enough but she was never going to be.
"He's going to need help," Natasha continues. She won't say the rest. She can't.
"Isn't that your job?"
It could have been.
Stay.
"Think I've been replaced." Her smile is hard.
Everything is hard. Jagged and jaded under her falter- free hands. None of her emotions play on her features.
There is a bag at her feet, gear and info and Logan's number (she's calling in that favor he owes her). Everything Steve will need to have a shot at getting into RAFT.
She swallows the lump that rises in her throat.
Natasha always did hate loose ends. Messy. Unneeded.
She kicks it lightly towards Sharon. "Here."
Realization dawns hard. "You aren't coming."
Shrugs with false nonchalance.
Can't.
Nothing shows. There is comfort in that.
"He's not going to understand that," Sharon protests.
But he will.
He knows her.
Has a list of facts that he extracted so carefully, so subtly worming his way into Nat's heart that she didn't realize she had even given so much of herself away. Favorite milkshake, where she hides her first edition Tolstoy, the shampoo she prefers, the song she hums as she destroys Tony's kitchen- dishes left like detonators on every surface, sure to start fight. Always itching for battle.
Sharon might not understand but Natasha knows Steve will.
He knows her.
Knows her painfully well. How she refuses to yield, can't be weak, how she always pushes a little too hard. Bloody pools on her bathroom floor rather than ask for help, self supplied sutures. Sews herself back together. Snips all the loose ends.
He knows her. The way she moves, the sounds she makes below him, how every night she could have almost fallen asleep to the sound of his heartbeat beneath her ear.
Almost.
Almost knew how to make her forget that love is for children.
Stay.
Can't.
"Tell him I gave you my dance card. He'll know what it means."
Almost knew all the ways to break down her walls.
Almost.
.
.
Someone To Pull You Up Short And Put You Through Hell
He finds her a month later in Angola. She is in costume as perpetually overindulged tourist in a green printed Lanvin dress, complete with a large brimmed hat to protect her skin.
No armor to protect her heart though. It skips a beat at the sight of him.
She has a precious few seconds before he will be at her side. She debates being able to disappear without him calling after her.
She could. Maybe he wouldn't risk it. He wouldn't risk her.
She stays instead.
Maybe she has learned her lesson after all. Or maybe she just misses him. She had forgotten how lonely solo work is. Has grown too used to him having there, someone to watch over, someone to help steady her.
She heads towards the heavy Luanda traffic, hoping the bustle will help shroud them in a land still wary from war. Where everyone still cautiously steps just in case of a forgotten landmine.
His hand is iron on her arm and pulls her back. Bringing her closer to him, always closer. Her body melts for a second under his familiar digits before she tenses.
It won't be like before. It can't be.
Plays the part instead. Natasha has always been good on her toes.
"Oh, honey! You scared me! I hope you don't mind. I left Miguel at the hotel. I wanted to see Fortaleza and didn't really want to drag that poor man all the way up there. I know you think I need a bodyguard but I've been fine."
He catches on faster than she expects but there is something dark in his eyes, a shadow that makes her stomach flip. "I just want to make sure you're safe."
It's too close to the truth to be part of the game. She smiles brightly, too brightly, a mask that beams at him until he forces one back and tacks on a "sweetheart."
Who are they this time?
They have done undercover work before. Steve's not particularly adept at it but he always follows her lead. She decides they are newlyweds, ten months in, seeking something more adventurous in a foreign land. Snuggles up closer to him, forcing sunshine into her voice and ignoring that sense of peace that always seems to rise when he is so near.
It's just pretend.
"You really didn't have to go through all the trouble but thank you." Rises on tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek.
Reminds herself it's all a lie.
Can't be like before.
Swallows it all down and leads him to the resort. The walk is long but taxis are dangerous and she doesn't want him causing a scene. Intertwines her fingers with his, to guide him and keep him safe and so very close because she knows by the flash in his eyes he is not going to wait until they get back to the hotel to ask.
She is proven right a few blocks later.
"Why are you here?" His voice is carefully controlled and close. His breath tickles her ear and she has to suppress a shiver.
Her reply is automatic, gazing up at him like he is the sun, letting him barely see the smirk on her lips, "Practicing my Portuguese."
He does not seem amused. "This is not a safe place. Do you know how hard it was to get in?"
Yes, she does. Expensive too. Palms expecting to be greased at every turn and dinners are running her over a hundred a night to keep up with the touristy expat crowd. But it's worth it. She knows General Ross is coming. Officially for a tour of Fortaleza, but a meeting with José Eduardo dos Santos (especially in light of the president's new found desire to step down after a 37 year rule) is something out of the ordinary. She took a tour of that beautiful landmark herself today and placed enough bugs that she is hopeful that a few will survive whatever sweep the soldiers will no doubt do.
This is not the time to for whatever this is.
"Luckily it's not as hard to leave." And then because he is still looking at her, like he doesn't understand she tacks on, "Go home, Rogers."
"Can't."
She doesn't ask why. Part of her doesn't want to know.
Can't be like before.
No matter what he says, no matter how right it feels to have his hand in his.
It just can't.
She's not built that way.
Love is for children.
No use in wishing it was different.
As they near the hotel she ramps up the cover she has created in her mind. Pretends to be someone capable of being head over heels in love. Pretends to be a different girl. One that giggles as she talks and leans into him and Steve for his part doesn't pull away.
He never tells her no. His hand never leaves hers. He doesn't shift away. He is eyes don't dart for some means of escape.
He never says no to her.
The lobby of the hotel is impressive, glass staircases and marble floors. She notices the rise of his eyebrows at the opulence when so much of the area they walked through had the clear marks of the severest kind of poverty. Slums abutting the high rise. There are two doormen but both are politely disinterested and soon enough they are alone in her room, the view to the Atlantic just visible through a sea of cranes.
She closes them into her room, bolt locking into place and she holds back a sigh. Just one last loose end and then she can stitch this closed. Whatever it even was...
Not love.
Can't have been love.
"So," she drawls, once they are so very alone. "Interesting vacation spot you picked."
"Funny. I was going to say the same to you." He sounds tired. "Any chance you will let me know what you are actually doing here?"
Her silence is telling.
"I didn't think so."
"It's just with the accords…" She feels the need to justify, to make him understand.
He nods his head and she can't shake the feeling that maybe he knows all too well before he shifts the subject.
"You didn't pick up your mail."
"Don't have an address anymore," she quips.
No home. No family. No team.
No them.
He fishes a phone and crumpled envelope from his pocket. It's a burner. Outdated. Clearly he didn't go through all that trouble to bring her that. Did he?
Steve waits a beat, hand outstretched with his offering and when it's clear she isn't going to take them sets them on the small desk next to him.
He chased her to a dangerous country for that? Her voice is incredulous when she speaks, bordering on rude. "I know how to get in touch if I need to."
Her words seem to make him smaller. "I know."
"I don't need you checking on me."
Doesn't need reminders of what could have been.
"I know."
"I can take care of myself."
It can't be that.
"I know."
Why then… She can't understand his motives. Doesn't he know none of it justifies the risk he took in coming here?
She's not worth it.
All she is is trouble. He, of all people, should know that.
"I just wanted to be able to reach you." He shrugs like he is swallowing down words he knows she doesn't want to hear. Keeps it light instead. "You are kind of difficult to find, do you know that? I bet no one ever beats you at hide and go seek."
"I let Lila win once."
"Sure she loved that," he chuckles at the thought before turning the full arsenal of his blue eyes on her. "You are being careful, right? With whatever this is you are doing here?"
His concern is touching.
And it can't be that.
"I was until someone almost blew my cover," raises a challenging eyebrow and he has the good sense to look sheepish about seeking her out so publicly. "But I should be okay. Apparently Captain America isn't as popular as one might think."
She is trying to be playful but it's so damn hard with those blue eyes of his that always seems to see right through her.
"Sorry about that," he apologizes. "I still can't figure out why you picked to be here of all places. There are better spots."
"They make a killer pepper steak," she deflects but his eyes are no longer on her but on a small map on the desk next to him. Its dotted and marked up in a way no one would ever be able to decipher unless of course they knew her.
And Steve knows her.
"You are going after Ross."
There is nothing to say so she is silent. The sound is deafening, oppressive in the too warm room.
"Without any backup? Without any team? And after that stunt in Cleveland, you must be looking at charges..."
She bristles under his worried gaze. "There is no team and Clint needed a distraction to get Laura and the kids out. By the way, she wants a word with you."
It is somewhat satisfying to see Steve squirm at the mention of Clint's family. He was out, safely out, and now…
Now no one is safe. Everything is fractured and broken and ugly.
"Tying up loose ends?"
It is somewhat painful how well he can read her. "You know me," she snarks in return. The truth hidden beneath her shrug.
"Like sending Sharon and that wolf-man."
She can't help but smile at Steve's description, Wolf Man- Logan is just going to love that. "RAFT isn't exactly a solo mission."
"And this is?"
"There is no team, Steve," she repeats, forcing her voice to stay strong and steady.
He breaks first. Pain clear in his voice as a hand rakes through his hair. "Whatever you are doing here you shouldn't be doing it alone. It's dangerous."
"Does that matter?"
They both know he shouldn't be here. Not checking in on her. Not in her hotel room. Not so close she could just reach out and touch him.
It can't be like before.
Can't.
"It does to me."
That does it. Breaks down her fragile willpower with four little words.
"I'm going to regret this."
She moves into him, a rush of red and soft skin. Her fate sealed before her brain has long enough to talk her out of it. Her lips capture his and she can almost dissolve back into that carefree girl that walked with her fiancee in hand.
She almosts believes in love.
Believes in them.
His mouth molds to her own and his fingers dig into her hips, pulling her closer. Always closer.
She lets out a moan at the feel of his body pressed deliciously against her own.
She missed this.
Missed him.
And suddenly he is unyielding under her hands, pushing her back and breaking contact, leaving her panting and confused.
"I'm sorry."
His apology breaks her. She is not ready to say goodbye.
He never says no. Not to her. Never to her.
"I just- I don't think we should do this."
Walls rise.
The pain must register in her eyes because when he speaks again her name is whisper soft. "Nat…"
"It's fine."
She doesn't have time for this anyway. Heartbreak is a luxury she can't afford.
Shuts it all down.
"I mean- what is this?" He gestures between the two of them. "What are we even doing?"
He is asking more than that and she will not be dragged into that lie.
Can't.
Love is for children.
Her shrug is deliberate and cruel. She didn't ask for any of this. They weren't ever supposed to be this. "It is what it is."
She isn't foolish enough to hope it could be more.
Except maybe she was…
But that's over.
"What does that mean?" His voice is filled with frustration.
She unbolts the door. "It means you can't stay."
"Nat…"
Ignores his pleading blue eyes. Won't make that mistake again.
Can't.
Opens the door and ushers him out. "Goodbye, Steve."
Refuses to look at him as she shuts the door.
Refuses to acknowledge the prickle behind her eyes or the note left on the desk.
Refuses to allow herself to wish it was different.
It wasn't love. No need to mourn what was never there.
It couldn't have been love.
Love is for children.
And she was never a child.
.
.
To Be Continued…
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A/N: So I am hoping to have the next installment up within two weeks. Would love to hear your thoughts so far! Anyone? ::Cue Crickets::