Malka's leg hurts. The loose floor-length skirt Natasha stole for her helps hide the limp, but she can still feel the bone brushing against the bandage with every step. Is it soaked through yet? She glances back—no trail of blood.
She still cannot believe she was naive enough to feel safe in this cruel world. Her hands practically hug the large bag at her side, clutching the contents close to her chest as she anxiously watches for anyone daring enough to approach her. The only picture she has of her whole family is in there. The last picture of her sister's smile. The last ramblings of her father before he escaped. His last ideas that came to fruition.
If anyone were to know what she has spent months working on, even going so far as to contact Banner for the occasional help, she would be long dead. Whoever is after her, whoever killed Fury—they would kill for her formulas if they ever worked.
Malka bites her lip when Steve begins to speed up by her side, his arm wrapped tightly around her waist. "Slow down," she rasps.
Natasha sends them a look from Malka's other side. "First rule of going on the run is don't run, walk."
Steve rolls his eyes. "If I run in these shoes, they're gonna fall off."
"Stuff in some newspapers," Malka grumbles as she detaches from them both and hobbles into the computer store, finding a seat at an open laptop. "The drive has a Level Six homing program," she tells them. "As soon as I open this, SHIELD will know exactly where we are."
"How much time do we have?" Steve asks.
"From now?" She puts in the drive. "Nine minutes." Typing on the computer feels like second nature now. She remembers when she first was asked to type and code, she was lost. Now, it's home. "There's something about that boat job you two screwed up."
"Wow, thanks."
"It was all over the dark web, Golden Boy," Malka snaps. "Somebody's trying to hide something. The drive is protected by an AI, it keeps rewriting itself."
"Can you override it?"
Natasha glances around, saying, "You can learn anything. Learn this."
"Not in seven minutes, I can't," Malka sighs. "The person who developed this might be slightly smarter. I'm gonna trace it. If we can't read the file, we can at least find out where it came from."
"Can I help you with anything?"
Malka does not stop even when the employee approaches them. "We were just looking at honeymoon destinations," she says without looking up. "My sister and her fiancé want something special."
She hears Steve choke. "Right! We're getting married."
Malka glances up to see Natasha plaster a smile on her face and wrap an arm around Steve. "Marriage, so soon!" She coos, shoving her foot back against Malka's good leg.
"Congratulations. Where are you guys thinking of going?"
She does not look up as Steve eyes the screen. "New Jersey," he says.
"Oh," the employee goes silent. "I have the exact same glasses."
"Wow," Natasha replies evenly. "You two are practically twins."
"Yeah, I wish. Specimen. Uh, if you guys need anything, I've been Aaron."
Malka sighs and rolls her eyes, typing as fast as she can while the employee moves away. Suddenly, Natasha's hand rests on her shoulder as Steve says, "You said nine minutes, come on."
"Calm down. Got it." Both Natasha and Steve lean over her shoulders, staring at the location. "You familiar?"
"Used to be," Steve mutters. "Let's go." Malka walks on Natasha's right as the three of them quickly walk out of the store. "Standard tac-team. Two behind, two across, two coming straight at us. If they make us, I'll engage, you hit the south escalator to the metro."
Malka takes a baseball cap from the nearest vendor, pulling it low over her face as Natasha says, "Shut up and put your arm around me. Laugh at something I said."
"What?"
"Do it, Golden Boy," Malka hisses as she fumbles for her cell phone and presses it to her ear. As the two agents pass them, Steve lets out a high-pitched laugh while Malka says, "But Mom, I love him! I don't care that he's in prison. So what? Age doesn't matter! And he killed those people in defense—Ok, I'm done." She pockets the phone once the agents are long past them.
"Not yet," Natasha replies as they descend on the escalator. Following her gaze, Malka curses when she sees Agent Rumlow's face while Natasha faces Steve. "Kiss me."
"What?" Steve looks like he might explode.
"Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable."
"Come on, we'll be made if you don't. Just pretend I'm the prettiest girl you've ever seen and wrap your arm around me!"
"I'd rather get made and kill people."
"Too public. Come on, солдат. It won't mean anything—"
She remembers the ghost of his lips against hers as she faces the other direction, her baseball cap covering her face as she pretends to play on her phone. It hadn't been charged in two days since SHIELD agents first started trying to infiltrate her cabin oasis. The echo of the brick wall against her back makes her straighten her spine while she tries to will the memory away.
"You two done?" Malka asks as she glances back to see the two of them tangled together. "Still uncomfortable?"
Steve clears his throat as she and Natasha begin descending. "It's not exactly the word I would use."
The three of them race out of the mall, eventually getting on the road in a car Steve hot-wired. Malka sits in the back with her bloodied leg extended, unwrapping the gauze to access the untreated wound. From the front, Natasha does her best to help, but Malka does most of the work. She rips part of the skirt and removes the wire from her bra to make a make-shift tourniquet, pressing the bone further in. It was from a nasty hit an already half-dead agent landed. Reckless on her part, leaving one alive long enough to do damage.
"You good?" Steve asks from his seat as she leans back, breathing heavily.
Malka nods. "Distract me. Where'd you learn to steal a car?"
"Nazi Germany. And we're borrowing. Take your feet off the dash."
Malka hides a laugh as Natasha slowly lowers her feet, saying, "Alright, I have a question for you, which you do not have to answer. I feel like if you don't answer it though, you're kind of answering it, you know?"
"What?"
"Was that your first kiss since 1945?"
Steve scoffs. "That bad, huh?"
"I didn't say that."
"Well, it kind of sounds like that's what you're saying."
"No, I didn't. I just wondered how much practice you've had."
"You don't need practice."
"Everybody needs practice."
"It was not my first kiss since 1945. I'm 95, I'm not dead."
Malka shrugs. "If it makes you feel any better, I haven't kissed someone in decades where it meant anything. Last time was Texas. 1963. I mean, I've kissed people since then, but not because I wanted to or anything. Nat gets it."
Natasha rolls her eyes. "I try not to seduce anymore."
"Never wanted to in the first place, but that's the job, right? In all honesty, might've kissed him again more recently, but I don't know if it was real or a dream."
"Dreaming of kissing the same guy?" Natasha twists back to look at her. Malka also sees Steve's blue eyes looking up in the mirror. "Must be special."
"Believe it or not, Nat, you're not the only spy with a soldier for a partner," Malka drawls. "It was the same situation, actually. Didn't want to get made. He was grouchy, but we made it out safely. Didn't see each other again for a while."
Natasha faces forward, her expression blank. "You're talking. The blood loss must be getting to you."
"I didn't have any practice for that kiss," Malka lets out a laugh. "The only experience I had before was a boy in 1940." All humor dissipates from her heart.
"That sounds like a story," Steve says, glancing back at her.
"A short one. We were on a train, and he said he didn't want to die without having his first kiss. Never saw him again. He was sorted into the wrong group when we arrived." The car goes silent. Malka's palm begins to sting; when she looks down, she finds her nails digging into her skin. "Maybe you're right, Nat. Too much blood loss."
"You should get some rest. It'll be a bit," Natasha says. "When's the last time you slept?"
"Don't fall for it."
"Fall for what?"
"The safety of having a partner."
"We're partners of necessity."
"Partners all the same." Malka curls up on the seat, her eyes staring out the window. "They change you from what they made you to be. Sometimes, it's liberating, other times, everything you know ceases to exist. Spies like us are never safe even if we do have soldiers by our sides. In the end, they'll just destroy you. Don't let them destroy who you want to be."
Natasha hesitates. "Just get some sleep, Malka."
✗ ✗ ✗
I'm not sure what to say but I hope you're all enjoying!
-L