Natasha woke up the next morning with a bitter taste. As much as she wanted to see Steve, she couldn't ignore the fact it felt different now; not when all she wanted from him, he couldn't give her; not without breaking Thor's first rule and jeopardizing the mission.
But she was Natasha Romanoff. She would get up and go meet with Steve and act like nothing was different. She had been trained not to let her emotions dictate her behavior. She was stronger than this. Love -infatuations-, all this was for children. She could overcome it until it would vanish away on its own.
She went to the bathroom and had a long, relaxing bath. She played all the details of her plan over and over while lying in the hot water; mostly to keep herself from thinking of him. She could finish the job without putting her mission, or her identity, in peril and she would go back to the future, to her present, where she would let time heal her.
She wore a purple lace dress and tied her hair up in a messy bun. She looked herself in the mirror and found nothing but a blank expression that betrayed feelings that were doomed to remain unsolved.
She opened the drawer and looked at the little Asgardian device she had kept hidden there since it had brought her here. She took it between her fingers and looked at it with bewilderment. It was still incredible what such a small thing had accomplished. Part of her looked forward to using it again soon and go back to where she belonged, far from he who caused so much disarray in her mind, far from where her heart could be harmed.
Steve was flying back to Europe the next day, early in the morning and today was their last day before another couple of weeks apart. She was supposed to meet with him and Barnes at the theater. Apparently, Barnes was fond of plays and other farces. He couldn't stop, incidentally, complain about how his biggest regret was to have never seen Steve's show.
The cab pulled over and Natasha got out of the car. She walked inside the theater and her heart raced when she found Steve standing by the door frame next to the room where people were sitting down before the beginning of the play. She smiled and went up to him only to find a stern look in response.
"What are you doing here, taking root by this door?" she teased.
He hardly smiled. "We need to talk," he said.
She furrowed her brows for a second and clutched her coat. "Sure, but aren't we going to miss the beginning of the play?"
He stepped aside to let a couple walk through then shot a quick look inside the theater.
"It can wait," he spoke coolly and held her arm before taking her to a more quiet area down the hallway. She let herself be taken away and held back a gasp of surprise.
Her mind couldn't help remind her it looked like the beginning of her naughtiest fantasies. She kicked this thought away just as quickly. Judging by the confused and somewhat hard frown on his face, a little birdy told her he wasn't thinking the same.
"What is it?" she asked.
Steve looked behind them to make sure they were alone.
She smirked. "You know it wouldn't be good for both our reputations to be caught here in this dark -"
"I know everything," he cut her off sharply.
His words took a long time to sink in. Everything could either mean nothing or all of it.
"What do you mean you know?" she inquired with a slow, hesitant pace. What had he possibly found out over the course of a night?
He glanced behind them again then looked straight at her and sighed.
"Don't deny it. I know you lied to me," he spoke.
It was her turn to take a glimpse behind them.
"I don"t know what you're talking about," she answered in a low voice.
"You're not who you say you are," his voice had gotten one tone harsher.
Okay. Now it was getting alarming. She also knew it was too early to jump to conclusions. She would remain quiet until he would spill it all (cause really, he was the one spilling everything so far).
"I know you're not a journalist," he said with a disappointed voice. "Bucky made some research."
Her mouth gaped open. The little snoop. And the snoop was also a snitch. And where was he hiding now? She rolled her eyes mentally. She knew she should have snuffed him the second she met him like accidentally shove him in front of a bus and she wouldn't have been in this situation.
She blinked a few times and prepared her best act.
"What?" she exclaimed. He shushed her and threw a glance behind them. "What?" she repeated with a whispering voice but with an even better-scandalized expression. "Why would he say that?" She stood back straight and gently brushed a piece of hair behind her ear. "Clearly, because his ego was hurt after I let him know he wasn't the one I wanted to dance with," she spoke very casually and subtlety.
A subtlety he picked on just as she wanted.
"Bucky wouldn't...," he started matter-of-factly then paused. She looked at him with big innocent eyes. "What do you mean 'the one you wanted to dance with'? Who did you want to dance w—" He shook his head decidedly. "No, no!" he spoke firmly, his hand following the same motion. "You're not getting out of it so easily. I want to know the truth, so stop playing games."
Well, it was worth a try. It seemed Steve from 1943 kept a cool head under all circumstances just like modern Steve.
"I am not playing games," she retorted with a grin.
They heard footsteps behind them. It added more pressure to the two of them.
"Then answer me," he groaned.
His words, the pressing tone of his voice, the look of betrayal on his face, the whole situation; it hit her like an old memory. One that wouldn't happen until seventy years from now in a hospital.
It amused her. She glanced at the wall one feet behind her then looked him up and down.
"Are you going to tackle me against this wall next, Rogers?", she asked with a playful smirk on.
The frown he had been having on his face since the beginning fell flat and was replaced by confusion. His features softened.
"What?" he murmured in sheer bewilderment. "Of course not. I'd never do that."
She cocked an eyebrow and the corner of her mouth rose slightly.
"You might want to remember that," she purred with a sly look, leaning in towards him, their faces not so far apart, the same way they were that day of 2014 when he pressed her to give the flash drive back. She counted on him not to remember her words though, so she could tease him with it when the right time would come.
Steve pulled away and lowered his head, looking at the floor, hands on his hips, a sigh coming out of his mouth.
"I said no lying," he breathed out, more mentally worn out than physically. "Can you do that?"
She crossed her arms and shrugged. They both knew this would count as a yes.
She now had three options, really.
A- Tell the truth.
B- Lie.
C- Try a diversion (although, she had some doubt it would work with him).
"Bucky said he's never heard of your magazine. I tried to find a number in the phone book and-"
"You checked in a phone book instead of asking me? I thought we were friends!" she put on her best-outraged expression.
"Huh-huh," he interrupted her with a dull tone. "Diversion doesn't work with me. I grew up with Bucky."
Natasha rolled her eyes. So this is where his awareness and his resilience came from? A childhood with Barnes. She knew option C wasn't one to use on Steve.
He took one step closer.
"Soldiers' Housewives magazine doesn't exist," he said matter-of-factly, slowly, to let the harsh truth sink in.
She raised her eyebrow.
"It doesn't?" she asked with an incredulous look that immediately turned into a devious smile. "Well, that's a waste 'cause it would have been one hell of a magazine."
"Nat!," he threatened loudly then shut his mouth for fear of prying ears. She could tell his toning up his hard looks and tone only unveiled his decrease of anger and him being on the verge to yield in and go soft.
"You're the one who asked for the truth," she defended innocently.
He looked her deep in the eye. The intensity of his gaze overwhelmed her in a voluptuous way he certainly didn't have in mind at this exact second.
"Fine. I lied," she sighed. "I saw the way you were interacting with the women asking for an autograph or a date and I didn't want you to give me that same look of pure horror and think I was just a fan." He rolled his eyes at the words 'look of horror'. "I made up the name of a magazine to sound more reliable."
His features relaxed. Steve Rogers enjoyed the sound of truth way too much for her liking. It soothed him the same way telling a lie put her mind at ease.
"So then why did you come to me that night?", he asked.
She had to remain credible. Credible.
"Because I really wanted to write an article about the person behind Captain America," she said softly, her pupils penetrating his eyes with a comforting halo of candor. "I just knew there was so much more to write about him than what the world thinks they know about the other one."
Her voice was serene, tender, loaded with genuine affection. She wished she could have chosen option A. Truly. But option B was the easier, faster, safer way to reassure him on her intentions, keep the real purpose of her presence hidden and to preserve her identity.
His pupils first remained still then quivered as they suddenly filled with a mix of so many emotions she couldn't tell them all apart. She identified warmth though, relief, care, and gratitude.
He leaned closer, and she held her breath in without realizing. He gently lifted his hand, and softly, carefully, let his fingers slide down the curly lock of hair tickling the side of her face.
She felt his warm breath caress her skin as he breathed out slowly as if cautious not to make an abrupt move that would scare her away.
"Sorry," he murmured eventually, then a smile rose across his face. "And thank you."
It was like she had just told him every word he had hoped she would say and beyond.
He walked her to the main room with an expression of relief and perhaps also of embarrassment. As if he knew he had acted a bit too...dramatic. But again, he couldn't help it —she had spent enough time with him to know he had a tendency to feel and respond to things passionately.
Barnes was waiting for them, a look of unhidden curiosity on, eager to decipher how the conversation had gone. He concluded the problem had been solved by the relaxed demeanor of his best friend.
Steve halted and waved for her to go first, making her sit between the two of them. The music started, the red curtain opened and the whole audience quit whispering.
"I take it you got your little trial?", Barnes murmured to her with a snort.
She slightly turned her head towards him.
"Thanks to you," she whispered back, a tad reproachful. "That was a low blow, Barnes."
She heard him chuckle lightly.
"That's not how it happened. All I did was say the magazine didn't ring any bell. Not my fault if Steve overreacted. It's just the way he is."
She shook her head and smiled, believing him readily. The actors were now reciting their lines on stage.
"I know," she answered. She tilted her head towards him and they shared an amused smile.
"Looks like you passed the test, anyway," he said.
She gave him a judgmental look, then both resumed to enjoy the play.
When the red curtain closed, the three of them stood up and left the theater. The atmosphere was relaxed, back to what it had always been. It was dark outside and time for dinner. Barnes immediately mentioned a nice restaurant that was only one block away.
They arrived less than fifteen minutes later. Steve was the first to help her remove her coat and hand it over to the waiter. She thanked him and he replied with a bashful smile. Although he had gotten over her lie, it was like he was trying to redeem himself for his behavior now.
"So did you try to sell the interview to a newspaper?", he eventually asked during the meal, with genuine interest. She knew it wasn't an attempt to pry.
Honestly, the 'scraps' of the interview were taking dust in the drawer of her bedside cabinet.
"No," she answered. "And I don't think I will."
Steve tilted his head, watching her silently. She glanced down at her plate then back at him.
She shook her head. "I realized this interview was too personal. All those things you said; you shared them with me as a friend. It is fair, as a friend, not to make any of it public."
She smiled at him when she said those words and he reciprocated it with a tender expression. He thanked her with a nod and she realized how all these so-called professional meetings, all these confidences he made, served the sole purpose of spending time in her company.
Barnes interrupted their silent dialogue with a groan.
"Does that mean I won't get to read any of it?", he asked. "Am I really the only one around this table who was actually excited to read this interview?"
"Well, if you insist, I can share the bit where Steve mentioned your fondness for street gambling."
His eyes opened wide. He swallowed the piece of his steak with a loud gulp. "I don't...never have done that."
Natasha and Steve exchanged a look and chuckled.
Right before dessert, Steve left the table to go have a chat with the little boy who hadn't stopped staring at him from his table ever since he and his family had arrived to have dinner.
Natasha watched as Steve knelt down in front of the boy's chair and raised his fingers to his forehead to greet him the military way. The little boy, first numb, mirrored the gesture only with more stiffness. Steve smiled and engaged the conversation.
Her gaze widened slightly as she watched how he was a natural at this. She had never really taken the time, all those years long, to wonder whether her team leader had ever thought about becoming a father and whether it was one of his biggest regrets. She had spent so much time fighting by his side, watching him make strategic decisions and taking down enemies but they had never taken the time to discuss this subject nevertheless. And yet tonight, for the first time, she saw this other side of him; Steve as a family father. It suddenly struck her that Steve had lost so much more than many decades of his life and all the people he cared about when he woke up in 2012; he had most importantly lost the life he had always wanted for himself.
She blinked slowly, a lump growing in her throat. As honored as she could feel to witness all of his past life, part of her ached for the one he had never have a chance to get when his plane crashed into the ice.
Her mission was very clear, saving Steve Rogers' life. And as confident as she was to accomplish it, it would still remain half a success only. What about his life here in 1943? Wasn't she supposed to save it, too? What if, in order to save him fully and completely, she had to make sure he would never have to leave the time to which he truly belonged. Wouldn"t she call her mission a real success, then? Allowing him to have the life he had always wanted even it that meant losing him for good, knowing she wouldn't find him back in 2015.
Steve Rogers belonged to 1943, to Barnes, to Peggy; he did not belong to 2015, to the Avengers nor to her. He never had. They...she had no right to be selfish and want him all for herself. What if the real purpose of her travel to the past was to give him his entire life back? To give him the quiet and peaceful life any soldier deserved after coming back from the war. When did Steve ever find peace and quiet ever since he had woken up from his 66-year-long sleep? He woke up only to fight more wars and battles that weren't even his. She and the Avengers had discussed for so long for the perfect plan to save him but none of them had considered this time travel could be a way to solve the most important error in this series of mistakes. Maybe...surely that was what she owed him: the peaceful life he had missed the first time around.
"You're not really a journalist, are you?" Barnes spoke softly beside her. She turned to look at him. "Magazine or no magazine."
He wasn't really waiting for an answer. He smiled and shook his head lightly.
"It's easy to tell. And in a way, I am sure somewhere deep down, Steve could have figured it out too. But it's just that he didn't want to," he explained serenely then turned to look at his best friend who was now inviting the boy to touch the medal on his uniform. "Why, you may wonder?" Barnes continued, staring at the boy stroking the medal and at the cheerful smile on Steve's face. "Not because he's a fool who can easily be duped but fundamentally because it is inconceivable for Steve that someone he cares about isn't as immaculate as he sees them to be."
They looked at each other in silence for a few seconds and it struck her how true his words were. She had witnessed it herself. She had watched Steve fight to salvage Barnes' soul at the cost of his own life. And never once he had doubted he could pull his best friend out of the Winter Soldier and that Bucky was gone forever and thus because of that same principle Barnes had just mentioned.
"And now what?", she asked with a murmuring voice.
Barnes eyed her intently. "And now I am going to enjoy my last evening in town with my best friend and my other friend," he said with a shrug. He raised his glass to this evening and drank a sip.
By the end of the evening, the time to part arrived. The three of them stood in the middle of the sidewalk, all reluctant to hail a cab that would take her away from them for the next couple of weeks.
Barnes was the first to step forward. He softly took her hand and kissed the top of it with a malicious and conniving look. He then smirked and stepped away.
She stood there and looked in silence as Steve hesitantly walked forward, trying to let these last seconds linger on. He stood in front of her, looking down at her with nothing but the silence of the night as their sole company.
"I'm gonna wait for you round the corner," Barnes said, pointing to a random direction as usual. "I just saw something I want to check out."
"Did you catch sight of a shell game being played around that corner?", Steve teased with a smirk.
His best friend"s face dropped immediately.
"You know what, Steve?" he commented sternly with a cocked eyebrow then walked off.
Steve smiled before turning back to Natasha.
"Natalie," he started with bashful expression. "I wanted to say how sorry I am for what happened earlier. I think I panicked because it made me question the real reason why a woman like you would want to spend so much time with a man like me. It didn't make sense anymore. It never made sense if it weren't for professional matters."
"Steve," she cut him off. "A woman like me?"
He turned confused as if she had just said nonsense.
"Don't you know?", he exclaimed with a kind smile. "You are the most surprising, intelligent, beautiful, fascinating woman I have ever met. And I have never ceased to be this shy, bony kid from Brooklyn."
He stopped as if it didn't need any further explanation. She heard him say each and every one of those words from the deepest spot inside of him. She lifted her hand and softly pressed his arm.
"If I am half the woman you say I am then you should know that I have every reason to want to spend time with him."
He looked at her in awe, speechless.
She waved to the cab approaching to pull over. She then turned her attention back to him, stood on her tiptoes and gently kissed his cheek.
She left his side (because she had to do it before she would do something she would regret) and stepped towards the taxi.
"I'll miss you," she whispered softly regardless of the fact she was breaking her own rule as she knew it was what he needed to hear at this moment. He swallowed hard and nodded, she then forced herself to divert her eyes away and got in the cab.
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Thank you for the likes and comments! Here's the new chapter!