Cut It Out and Restart *Daredevil*Damned*Agents of SHIELD*

8) Classified

The blond closed the laptop and slowly reached to massage the bridge of his nose, obviously tired; as if the signs she noticed before – dark circles under his eyes, more-than-usual ruffled hair, not perfectly ironed t-shirt, hunched shoulders – weren't enough to tell her how he felt.

She should probably take it easier on him; he did seem exhausted and the death of the agent truly was haunting him. She felt an unpleasant jab in her stomach when she examined his form again, the feeling of compassion almost surprising her.

"Hey," Natasha greeted him before plopping into the chair opposite to him, leaving the hardwood desk between them. "I heard what happened. I'm sorry. I'd say it wasn't your fault, but something tells me it wouldn't make a difference to you."

Steve looked up at her almost lazily and unconvincingly raised one corner of his lips. "Thanks anyway."

Natasha would never admit it, but she was a tiny bit proud for drawing at least that response from him; she quickly cooled the warmth spreading in her chest. Also, did she mention she liked his wry sense of humour? Why was he so damn easy to become friends with? Spy didn't have friend, dammit!

"However, I'm here to distract you," she announced, subtly waving the folder, laying in in front of him on the desk. "Here."

Steve squinted at her, but obediently – because he was a very polite person besides being a little piece of shit – reached for the folder, opening it. His brows furrowed when he started looking through what were mostly wedding photos.

"What am I looking at?"

"Don't really have to look at it, honestly. I... keep an eye on few people, it's what I do," Natasha explained simply, not quite wanting to go into details. Details weren't important – not these ones anyway, she could spare Rogers the process of her getting information. He wouldn't be a fan anyway. Instead, she breathed in and out, slowly, watching every micro-expression on his face when she asked the question. "Steve... do you remember Veronika Macháčková?"

By the way his whole body stiffened, Natasha could tell he did; it was a pointless question with his eidetic memory anyway. Of course he remembered, he remembered everything.

Still, he gave a little nod in response.

"Well, I did keep an eye on her too..." She supposed it wasn't exactly a secret. She had told Steve about the whole save Daredevil from an induced coma situation and they had received the invitation for a wedding. What she wasn't sure that was getting through – and she was generally hoping it wasn't – was that she had been sort of rooting for the couple; they were endearingly weird and strangely cute in their own way. And she had liked the woman – she had spunk, determination, conviction. She was most definitely not a murderer, especially her husband's murdered, but that was a whole new can of worms to open. "And I got a wind of someone gathering intel on Matt Murdock's murder again, possibly in hope for a new hearing, getting the case... reopened because of new evidence."

Steve seemed utterly confused, looking at some more of the wedding photos. They were of all sorts, but the person appearing the most frequently was a brunet, a relatively tall and thin guy.

"Who's that?"

"Bartholomew Henry Allen, a CSI from Central City. Not that important, he's the one who'll be presenting the evidence I believe. What's more important is that I-" Natasha silently braced herself for the judgement, "I-eh, I hacked Theresa Gratton's and Jessica Jones' laptops, both friends of Vera, and found these photos there. But anywhere online, on any servers... there are none. At least not ones of Vera."

Steve's forehead creased as he eyed Natasha shortly before returning his gaze to the photo of the smiling newlyweds with all the guests, and he visibly gulped.