Friday morning, and she had woken alone in her bed. Not that it wasn't common; Holly had come to find out that Steve, no matter how harrowing a prior mission had been, was a habitual early riser. Still, she had the hope that it would be one of those mornings where he'd curled up around her, or had returned to the room to draw in his sketchpad or read one of her books. It was a habit he'd gotten into on and off since they'd gotten together, since after he resumed his work as an Avenger. He liked to be near her in the quiet moments, in the time they had together when he was off duty. Yawning, she stretched, a full body stretch that made her curl her toes and arch her back briefly before sinking back into the mattress. Pushing off the covers, she blindly reached out towards the nightstand, grabbing up the hair binder there and tying back her hair. It was a wavy mess, to her mind, and it needed to be tamed for the moment. Her sleep pants, having been abandoned on the floor the night before, were slipped back on with ease, and she stumbled out of the room, rubbing at her eyes and cursing herself for even considering getting out of her warm cocoon at that hour. Even so, when she went through the kitchen arch to get her coffee, stray movement in the room beyond caught her attention, and she detoured from the caffeine to look.

Leaning against the wall, she couldn't help the silent snort of amusement as she crossed her arms over her chest. The table and chairs had been pushed against the far wall, the rest of the dining space appropriated for Steve's use. Some drop cloth had been spread on the floor, ready to catch errant spills, the travel easel she'd gotten him for Christmas set up and paint tubes scattered in the extended drawer. He had a pencil tucked behind one ear, a brush in his right hand easing some green onto the canvas. A rag was tucked into the back pocket of his jeans, supposedly to fix errors or clean up a spill on himself, though judging by the smears of blue and yellow on his face and red on his white t-shirt, he hadn't used it too much for that purpose. Dipping into the green again, he seemed to think better of it, instead swirling his brush in the cup of water settled in the drawer as well. The supplies had been hauled into her apartment weeks ago (more and more of his things were finding places to rest in her home, which she was not wholly opposed to at all), and Steve would set them up every once in a while, occupying himself with a new art project if she was otherwise engaged. Evidently, he had been struck with some early morning inspiration. Again, not something uncommon with him.

However, the way he was determinedly not meeting her gaze, the way he held himself in her presence over the last couple of days, had her on guard. His demeanor was off, though he remained just as affectionate of her as ever. In fact, when he finally broke his cover at Sam's and came over to her place, he was very demonstrative of his feelings towards her. But something nagged in her mind. And she'd given him a grace period…for the night.

Spying her out the corner of his eye, Steve's expression brightened, though he didn't stop working. "What?"

"Something's going on," Holly stated bluntly. It grated even on her ears. Still, her suspicions rested on her, and she wanted to figure out what was up.

"Yes," Steve conceded, his side-along glance taking on a cheeky air. "Painting is what's going on."

Stepping fully into the room, she examined the picture he was working on. It wasn't fully discernible at the moment, but the colors were warm, bringing a vague sense of comfort and home to mind as she looked at them melding together.

"Nice," she murmured, resisting the urge to reach out and touch. That was a mistake she did not want to repeat; never mess with a work-in-progress Rogers piece. Giving him a pointed look, she continued, "You know you haven't convinced me at all."

He concentrated on smearing a dab of blue across his canvas then, but it was impossible to miss the smirk on his lips. "I'm aware."

She sighed deeply. It was one of those things again, most likely an operation of importance that would consume him, and that he would be able to share scant details of. It was a burden he shouldered without complaint, but she wished that he could talk about them with her. Security she understood, but sometimes she wished she could be told what was going on before he'd finished with the tasks set to him as Captain America for peace of mind, if nothing else.

"So what should I file this secret under? Can't tell or won't tell?"

"It's actually not like that at all," Steve corrected her gently. Her mocking scoff made him look away from his painting, his brush set aside and his gaze wide with earnestness. "No, really, it's not. You…I can tell you about it."

The sincerity in his voice, in his face, quelled the sudden flutters in her stomach, turned her curiosity up. Her dark gaze raked over him, as if she would be able to plumb out what was going on that way. Failing that, she just took in her fill of looking at him, accepting his word as truth.

"Okay…so when can you tell me?" she asked, her eyebrows inclining slightly. He glanced up at the ceiling, as if considering his answer.

"Later," he pronounced after a few moments, nodding once for effect. "After I take you out to dinner."

She wrinkled her nose, poking him in the side and making him gasp as she hit a ticklish spot. "Tease."

Her onslaught didn't abate, and he had to trap her hands between them, gripping them hard against his chest and drawing her in closer. Uncaring of the transfer of paint, he released her wrists, looping his arms around her waist and bringing her flush against him.

"Scram, or you're gonna be late for work." Steve attempted to sound stern, to get her distracted, but he couldn't quite make it sound genuine. Having her in his arms, so close, was something he ached for, deep down, when they were apart, and he didn't like having to deny that closeness.

Holly shrugged, waggling her eyebrows at him as she raised herself onto her toes, lips nearly on the same level as his. "It would be worth it, I bet."

"Maybe…" he whispered, the corners of his mouth turning up before accepting her kiss. The innocence of it melted away after a few seconds, becoming deeper and harder as it went on. Perhaps her work could wait…no, no…he had to try and stay strong. Soon enough, he broke off the embrace, leaning his forehead against hers briefly, another buss against her lips tempting him before he gave a little nod towards the bathroom. "Go on."

Rolling her eyes, Holly turned to go, squealing a little when he gave her a swat on the bottom to get moving. Within twenty minutes, she was dressed and pressing a farewell kiss on his cheek, avoiding the leftover paint, and out the door. As the lock clicked firmly into place, Steve glanced at the wooden panels, letting out a few deep breaths. Gathering up his cup of dirty water, he strode away from the easel, crossing the apartment to the bathroom to rinse it out and wash his hands. When he'd finished with both tasks, he found himself clutching the bowl of the sink, staring into the mirror without seeing. The paint splotches on his brow, along his jaw and face, were ignored as he fought for control over his nerves. Holly didn't know it, but he'd come very close to losing his composure, so close to just spoiling his own plans and just doing it right there.

No, no. He wanted to do this the right way, not half-baked and in the moment.

Shutting off the water, he dried his hands and meandering into the bedroom, pulling open the dresser drawer that had been designated as his for a few months now. Reaching in amidst the folded shirts and trousers, he removed a small velvet bag. A box would be more traditional, but it was less discreet when tucked into pants pockets and smuggled between places. It was a cheap thing purchased in a pack of twelve from a chain store (the rest packed away at Sam's house in his old closet, not to be found again for months); however, the contents of the bag were nothing of the sort. Circling the lump inside of the pouch with his thumb, a tiny grin bloomed on his lips.

Tonight, Steve concluded, placing the bag decisively on top of the dresser before hunting for clothes to change into after he showered. No more stalling.

xXxXxXx

Breaking the lock on an old storage room, Natasha slipped in, shutting the door swiftly and pushing an old shelving unit in front as a barricade. She only had a few moments, and she had to make them count. Being noticed by the guards on duty was one thing, having them actively chase her through the enemy base was another.

Having arrived in Africa a mere day previously, she took a slight detour, temporary dye filched and disguising her vibrant red locks with dull brown, sunglasses and plain clothes obscuring her. She followed the projected path of the overflowing insurgents to the Sudan after that, mixing in among their number as a recruit. She'd always had a talent of blending in, and her affinity for languages helped cement her place. Loaded into open jeeps, she was sped across the landscape, speaking little to the fellow around her but hearing everything. They spoke of a camp, led by a doctor. They murmured the rumors of how the camp would become the center of a great war, one to finally take down the final menace to their power: the Avengers. Upon arrival, she'd taken out two of the officers stationed at southern entrance, taking advantage of their incapacitation by slipping into one of their uniforms and lifting their access passes into the base. Once inside, she was a little stunned at what she found.

It was no mere band of insurgents answering a rebellious call. An army was being fostered in the desolate place, a true-blue army. And every last one of them was bearing HYDRA insignia. Tanks, weaponry that matched her reconnaissance photos and schematics, all enhanced, glowing blue as if powered by an alternate source. Nat had frowned deeply at the time; she could just guess what that alternate source was. Unfortunately, Loki's scepter had not pinged on her personal radar tracker. It was elsewhere in the world. Still, there was no denying that the very operations before her eyes had been subjected to the force of the extraterrestrial scepter.

And their head, at least the person in charge when Strucker wasn't around, was not a woman to mess with. Having only observed her from a distance, Natasha was of the opinion that she was severe, cunning, and clever. After all, most of the new weapon designs, though powered by the scepter, had borne her hallmark and were of her construction. Ärztin, they whispered when she made her appearance in the looming factory. From the shadows, she stared at the woman as she toured the facilities, examining the wares for any defects as she went by. Mid-thirties, blunt cut hair the color of dirt, body and face angular and black eyes that were permanently narrowed. It was if, even at this moment, with all this manpower and focus at her fingertips, she could not find one thing to really be pleased with. A suitable stand-in for the baron if there ever was one, Natasha mused gloomily at the time.

There was little she could glean about this doctor, save for the fact that she too had once been on SHIELD's payroll, another soul who had disappeared after the Battle of New York along with the scepter. Finding a nearly abandoned office, she hacked into the system files (with JARVIS's aid, naturally; all files were backed up on her own personal drive that had traveled with her overseas) to discover more. Jensen, the only name supplied for the doctor, had sufficiently destroyed her SHIELD records, it seemed. Still, that wasn't to say that HYDRA wasn't more studious about her background. Graduated with top honors, employed out of school with SHIELD right away ten years ago, she had worked tirelessly for the efforts of HYDRA since then, subverting the enemy while aiding them at the same time. Rising through the ranks quickly, it appeared that she was only a few rungs below Strucker or Dr. List in power. She could and most likely would prove dangerous, if she ever managed to deploy her army. It appeared, to the Black Widow's eyes, that they were waiting for the precise moment.

And with the sudden arrival of multiple mercenaries in the room as she prepared to leave, Natasha had a sinking feeling in her gut that she had handed them the opportunity on a silver platter (she knew she'd hacked into the server for too long, but she had to know what was going on). Flying from one assailant to the next, the men fell at her feet in a blur, falling to her concealed bracers and Widow's Bite as well as her kicks and jabs. Her ferocious stand had not stopped them entirely, her cover completely blown as an alarm sounded in the distance.

In the temporary shelter of the storage room, she pressed back against the rickety shelving unit, tapping hard at the com link perched in her ear. Taking out her USB, she hurriedly plugged it into her bracer, ripping away the sleeve of her stolen uniform as she did so.

"JARVIS, forward these coordinates and photo files to HQ, send an alert to the team," she commanded, hard thumps against the door rocking the shelves into her. Quickly, she scanned her surroundings, finding an air vent along the far wall. It could be big enough for her to crawl through. "Tell Clint: it's bad. They've got to come. Immediately."

"Yes, ma'am," JARVIS replied, everything fired off at lightning speed. Another thump rocked her again, rough, angry voices shouting at one another mere inches behind her. Taking her chances, Natasha sprang away, climbing another shelving unit to the vent, managing to wrench it open and shimmy in just before her sanctuary was breached.

The journey through the vents was dark, uncomfortable, dirty, and inevitably short. Shoving through the first opening she could find, Natasha collapsed onto the ground, groaning under her breath as she connected with hard concrete. Wincing, she got to her feet…and froze. The hall she'd stumbled into was much larger than the storage room, but it was decidedly less safe. Guns of all varieties, including alien, were trained on her person, soldiers armed to the teeth and surrounding her. A ring of blue and red pinpoints scattered across her torso and head as they kept aim. The ring of heels against stone caught her attention as they approached from behind, and when she turned to look, she couldn't say she was the least bit surprised to see who was standing there.

Doctor Jensen, all edges and brittleness in her grin, arched an eyebrow at Natasha. "And here she is. The snake in the grass. Or spider, I should say."

The doctor, Jensen, circled her. Predator and prey, with her goons closing in around them. However, Natasha was no easy capture, and she would set the record straight if that was what the HYDRA lackey thought. The smile she gave the doctor was icy, her bright eyes glimmering with cold as she adopted an aggressive stance, bracers poised and stunner disks in her palms.

"Try it," she shot back. The Black Widow was ready for them. "I've got one hell of a bite."

xXxXxXx

Evening fell across Washington, D.C., and as her work day drew to a close, Holly could taste the anticipation in the air around her as she met Steve back at the apartment, with him dressed smartly and waiting on her to get changed as well. As promised, he took her out for dinner, a nicer restaurant that on a normal day she wouldn't have gone to. However, the air around Steve told her that this night was not going to be normal, even if he talked and acted as though it were. Every now and again, she caught a flash of nervousness, of anxiety, in his eyes, and she wondered about it as she ate and drank the very good wine he insisted they partake in.

As the darkness descended over the city, Steve took command of Holly's car after they finished dinner, driving through the streets and over the bridge to a wayside park they were all to familiar with. Both had not been back since September, when the brief return of his used-to-be best friend had necessitated a meet-up out there, away from the prying and judging eyes of the public.

The pair paused on the riverbank, staring across the darkened waters to the little island that once housed one of the greatest spy organizations in the world. The three-sided building no longer cut a swatch in the sky, and in the dusk, the stars that could break through the light pollution illuminated that fact. One year, and it was as if it had never existed. They both knew better, though.

"They've cleaned it up fairly well, all things considered," Holly commented quietly, dipping her chin towards the river, and the remains of the Triskelion beyond. Even if she couldn't actually see the evidence in detail, she'd been keeping an ear and eye out for news about the fallen organization. The progress that had been made was great, and there was talk of turning the remains into a museum of sorts, if the property was not given over to the FBI or CIA in the next few months. "You can hardly tell it was a multibillion dollar dump site."

Steve snorted, the sum of money she stated striking him as a little steep. Then again, he'd grown up thinking a million dollars spent on anything was an astronomical figure. "Millions, maybe, but billions?"

"If Tony had personally funded the helicarriers, I bet it would have exceeded that," she retorted. For a moment longer they stood side by side, the sounds of the water lapping at the bank offset by the distant rumble of cars. Holly shifted, stepping closer to Steve as the breeze bit into her. "Here we are again. Just like the first time. Well, minus you being unconscious, of course. And my being terrified."

"Yeah," he remarked, swallowing against the thickness in his throat. That day, there was very little good to remember about it, but what he could take away was that he exposed an evil to the world...and stumbled upon something so good, against the odds. Turning away from the waters, he guided her back towards a lighted area of the park behind them, the yellow glow of the lamps enveloping them. "Strange how fast a year goes, how much change there can be in that time."

"Very true. Strange, but good." She squeezed his hand, the smile she sported complimenting the deep feeling in her expression. "At least, in this case."

He stopped in his tracks, inhaling deeply and willing himself not to shake. "More than good. Holly, everything that's happened since…well, it's been…"

Her grasp tightened again, and he found himself taking up her other hand as well, facing her fully. Her touch anchored him, held him there as he tried to think. Everything he wanted to say, to tell her, sat on his tongue, choking him. Blowing out a puff of air, he shook his head, smirking wryly at himself.

"Funny, I can articulate any sentiment as needed preceding a battle or a mission as well as the next guy, but right now…what I feel is…"

"Overpowering?" she guessed, watching as he inclined his head slightly and shrugged a shoulder.

"Close. It's just more than I can express at any other time. That's how it is with you, has been for a long time." Clearing his throat, Steve closed his eyes briefly, trying to be calm again. "Let's see…before we'd met, I was struggling to find reasons to keep fighting, to keep putting my life on the line. I didn't have much that made me happy in this weird, new world. I functioned, but I didn't live."

Fingers stirred beneath hers, but her focus was on his face, on the words forming on his lips. Holly had to swallow hard, touched by this display of affection, by the sentiments he was trying so hard to express.

"Since you came into my life, I've been living. I've been happier than I thought I could be. Even when we snipe over the stupidest things. I didn't think it could be like this, and now that I've had it, I don't want to lose it. I don't want to lose you. And I…I wanted to see, to ask—"

Her stomach dropped as he released one of her hands, slipping it into the left pocket of his pants. Mind was racing, heart was thumping, and she couldn't believe it.

'Oh, my God,' she thought, a conclusion forming in her mind right then.

Chiming interrupted him in his movements, his look of hopefulness sliding into irritation. It was mirrored on Holly's face, which she did her best to hold it back. She was failing spectacularly, but she would still try.

"Your phone," she indicated obviously, forcing her voice to take a lighter tone than she felt. Hearing his bit back groan of frustration, she waited as he now dug into the opposite pocket, retrieving the device and glancing at the caller name on the screen. Blue eyes widened slightly, and Steve sighed.

"It's Hill. She never calls unless it's an—"

"—Emergency. Go on," Holly finished, knowing the truth of his words. Carefully, she took a few steps back, allowing him space and the illusion of privacy as he answered the call. The foggy clouds of excitement fell away from her as she overheard smatterings of the conversation, her brow furrowing as she concentrated harder. Going off the hard edge in Steve's voice, she could tell it wasn't good news he was hearing.

"Hill, what is it?...When? What did Nat say?...What's the ETA? Yes, I can meet them there." He glanced at the watch on his wrist, and then shot a brief look at Holly, Adam's apple working in his throat for a moment before he spoke again. "Ten minutes, maybe fifteen. Right."

Hanging up, Steve stared down at the screen, downright dumbstruck at the turn of events. Replacing his phone in his pocket, the grim set of his jaw and the determination in his eyes told Holly more than anything she eavesdropped.

"You've got to go."

"Yes." Locking his eyes on hers, his face twisted apologetically. Going back to her, he pulled her into his embrace, holding her tight for a few moments. "I'm so sorry. I mean that."

Arms nestled around his neck, she let her forehead rest against his shoulder, the leathery scent of his jacket pervading her sense.

"I know." And she did know; she could see just how upset and sorry he was about what had just happened when she stepped away. It was written all over his face, something he couldn't hide even if he wanted to.

He turned his palms up at her, a helpless gesture. "I've never really had the best luck with timing."

"It's important, though," Holly murmured, steeling herself against the screams of disappointment in her mind and heart, instead turning the focus elsewhere. "We'll just…pick this up when you come back. You will come back."

It wasn't a question, but the vulnerable dip in her voice made it sound that way. Despite that, Steve nodded, hands grasping her shoulders and lips pressing against the crown of her head.

"Absolutely." It wasn't a promise. Come hell or high water, he would come back to her. He would do what he set out to do. There wasn't a question in his mind. A few more seconds passed, her scrutinizing gaze flickering over his face. Eventually, she exhaled, her tough expression melting away.

"Okay," Holly accepted his word. Digging in her jacket pocket, she jangled her car keys as she pivoted on her heel. "Where to?"

Steve shook his head, immediate denial in his tone. "Holly—"

"Your shield's already in the backseat," she pointed out. Having it on hand at all times was a necessary evil. Even if it did loll oddly in the seat as they drove to places. It would be better just to head out, and not bother with trading over, not for her sake. "No point in driving all the way back just for your bike. It'll be fine."

"Yes, but…"

"Just get in the car, Nerfherder," she spoke over him, softening the nickname with a lopsided smirk. Not waiting for either acceptance or denial, she got into the driver's seat, turning the key in the ignition. A thrill of satisfaction coursed through her when he acquiesced, it disappearing when no retort about her being a princess was forthcoming. That gave her some insight to the gravity of the situation as she put the car in reverse, if the stoic expression her boyfriend had wasn't any indication. Following his directions, she cut across town, giving the car more gas now and again as they went. The uneasiness in the pit of her stomach sat heavily, the silence in the cab cementing it.

"Tell me one thing," she said as she stopped for a red light, the idling engine rumbling. Turning her head to look Steve in the eye, she asked, "What you're leaving for…how bad is it?"

The expression on his face was harsh, the streetlights cutting into the angles and highlighting the severity in his eyes.

"It's bad."

She nodded slowly, dread now settling in her gut. "I'll step on it."

Several minutes later, they were well beyond the city limits, parked in an open field. The quinjet, swathed in the darkness, had its hatch open. The team within was waiting on their leader; the Avengers had a job to do. As Steve hustled out of his seat, going around to fetch the shield, Holly got out as well, meeting him as he came around the front of the car again. Rising up on the balls of her feet, she threw her arms around him, eyelids fluttering as she tried to keep her emotions under control.

"Come home safe," she whispered into his ear, feeling his arms tighten around her for a second or two. When he pulled back, he reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear and brushing his thumb across her cheek.

"Is that an order?" Steve asked, smirking a little as she choked on a giggle.

"You bet your ass it is." Fingers threading through his hair, she met him halfway for a swift kiss. The taste of frustration, worry, and hope was on their lips, and when they parted, it remained between them. Breathing deep, Holly could only murmur, "I love you."

"Love you, too." And with that, Steve let her go, shield in his hand and Captain America taking charge as he left. However, the glance he threw back at her gave her courage, pushed the doubt away for a moment. He would be back.

And he would ask her to marry him.

A/N: Hey guys. I know, it's been nearly two weeks since I've uploaded a chapter. Some of the reasons why I can't really go into; a family issue caught me off-guard, amongst other things, let's put it that way. I don't mean to be cryptic, but I really don't want to go into all that right now. Consequently, I haven't felt 100% well since that happened. And I haven't actually had a break in writing for awhile. I posted over the holidays, and I just wanted to take a moment to get myself grounded and relax my mental faculties. However, I have reached the end of my self-imposed break, and I am eager to write again.

Did I really leave the chapter the way I did? Yes. Does that make me cruel? Possibly. Will it be resolved? Of course...next chapter. Also, ten bucks says that a lot of you have predicted certain things. Feel free to tell me so. :-P

Ärztin translated as "lady doctor", according to Google. Correct me if I'm wrong.

I own nothing of the MCU. Also, the events of Natasha's separate side mission belong to Marvel as well; as I don't own the comic it is referencing, I am putting my own interpretation on the spin of events. Either way, disclaimer there. Also, I don't own the Star Wars references (by the way, Force Awakens...frigging awesome! Loved it!) The idea of Steve painting was inspired a piece of art by Obsceneblue at DeviantArt. Check it out (search for Steve Rogers, it should show up), it's one of my absolute favorite drawings of Cap.

I'll try to get the next chapter up as soon as I can. I thank you for your time and patience. Thanks for reading, please review, and I'll see ya for the next one!