Things were different now. Her plans had changed. It wasn't just about saving Barnes, now. She had to change Steve's fate, too. And that meant staying here longer. She had to think of a way to prevent Steve plunging this plane into the ice; and this, without compromising her cover.
She had thought this through and knew all the consequences this decision would have on the future. And on her. She knew it meant saying farewell to Steve. She was ready to travel back to a future where Captain America would be a hero from the past. And as much as it pained her to lose him again, she knew this time it would be for a happier outcome. Yes, she would return to a future where Steve Rogers was dead, but not just as a public hero, as an old man and beloved husband and father. She could live a lifetime without him as long as he had had the one he deserved and which was his to take in the first place. As for her teammates, she wouldn't have to go through hearing Stark give her an earful about her decision since he wouldn't remember the former timeline at all. To him, Steve Rogers would only be this super soldier with whom his father worked during the Second World War.
Part of her wondered, though, how she would live her life after that. The price to pay for this rectification was her remembering all of it. Remembering the timeline she would have altered, remembering meeting Steve in 1942 and falling for him. She guessed that was what she could call her punishment. Awareness always was the heavy burden to carry among those who were oblivious. Stark, Thor, and the others would carry on in their lives without ever suspecting a thing while she would keep every fragment of those memories which would be just as real as the rest of this new universe.
She considered about staying in 1942 for good. Maybe living a life as Steve's friend, or just even as a shadow was a good option; a way to keep him tangible in her world, but she knew this would go against the very quintessence of her new plan. Just like Steve didn't belong to her world, she didn't belong to his. She didn't exist in his timeline and she never would.
They had had the extraordinary chance to meet, bending all the rules of the universe, but now that she was willing to restore the balance, it inevitably meant being pulled apart for the simple and tragic reason that they didn't belong to the same timeline. And as unfortunate and unfair it was, she had to resign herself to accept that was the one and only natural order.
But this was a matter that would have to wait. She refused to let her original mission shift out of her sight.
She went to a hardware store in a quiet street of Brooklyn. The owner, a big man in his fifties, welcomed her with a silent look.
"May I help you, lady?" he asked from behind his counter when she was about to walk straight to an aisle on her own.
She turned and smiled dryly.
"No, thank you," she answered politely, earning a dubious frown from him. He shrugged nonetheless and turned his back to resume tidying up the display behind him.
She walked slowly down the aisles, meticulously probing every article put on display and assessing whether it could be useful or come handy for her mission. She never was the kind of spy who needed a whole set of tools and other high-tech gadgets when going on the field.; she had been trained the old-fashioned way: use her skills first then improvise with her environment. Thankfully, it was a real strength now in 1943. This shop owner surely couldn't boast of offering the most practical apparatus to any field agent in need.
She also knew she wouldn't be able to carry much. Lock picks, nylon cable ties, and acid; as useful as they would be, they all screamed 'intruder on the move'.
She went to the cash desk and scrutinized the shelves behind. She caught sight of the only thing in the store that wouldn't raise attention: a Swiss army knife.
"I'm gonna take the Swiss knife behind you, please", she said, opening her purse and reaching for a bill.
The man stretched his hand up to the shelf, took the knife and put it on the counter.
"Didn't find what you were looking for?" he scoffed slightly as if he weren't very surprised. "You should have come with your husband. He would have known what tools to take."
She gave him a hard look.
"That's it! Silly me," she exclaimed with a groan. "I knew I was forgetting something when I left the house."
He stared at her with one hand propped on the counter. It seemed his appreciation of sarcasm was just as limited as his open-mindedness to gender equality.
"Do you know where I could find a store selling women sportswear?" she asked while he cashed the money.
"Sportswear?" the man snorted looking her up and down. "What kind of sports clothes?"
"You know, a tight suit," she said. The look of sheer confusion and disapproval on his face showed women overalls weren't a thing yet. "Or tight pants? Light and comfortable?"
"What for?" he finally asked out loud.
She stared again. She suspected her look was colder than the one she had given him earlier. "I"m starting yoga classes."
"Yo-what?" he exclaimed.
She discreetly rolled her eyes.
"It's alright. I"ll find a store myself. Thanks for your amiability," she said and walked out of the shop.
She went to numerous stores until she finally found a pair of comfortable low heel shoes and a dark blue jumpsuit that was elegant but still moving comfort. She dearly missed her catsuit right now but this outfit would have to do. She remembered that time she took down a whole security team in a strapless tight slit dress and Louboutins during an opera in Vienna. This new mission surely wouldn't be as...acrobatic.
Steve and Barnes were back in town for a week for what she knew would be the last time before heading for her mission.
"Are you alright?", Steve asked her while she was absently looking at the people dancing on the dance floor. Barnes had found himself a partner who couldn't be more thrilled to be dancing with a soldier wearing the uniform.
She looked at him and put on her best smile.
"Yeah," she exclaimed half-heartedly. "I guess I"m just being a little nostalgic."
Nostalgic was a light word to describe the turmoil currently wiping every away in her mind and her heart. She knew she was spending one of her last moments with Steve.
He gave her a sympathetic smile that quickly turned cheerful before gently pressing her hand resting on the velvet sofa between them.
"I don't know how long it will take before the end of the war but I know we're on the trail of the Red Skull and Hydra. It's only a matter of time before we defeat them."
"Then you can come back home," she said with a smile. This was the only positive thought she had to ease up her heavy mind. This was the one that was worth all the sacrifices she was soon to make.
"I guess so. I don"t know to be honest."
She furrowed her brows.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
Steve looked hesitant, nervous. Perhaps even shameful.
"Nothing would make me happier than hearing the war"s over but...being a soldier, fighting for justice and freedom, this is when I feel whole. This is when I feel I am me," he said. "Frankly, I know I have found my purpose when I"m Captain America, but what will happen to him once the war is over?"
She eyed him closely.
"You can become anyone you want to be, Steve," she said. After all, this was what she was ready to fight for; so he could get a chance of staying in the 1940s, so he could have the choice to become whoever he wanted to be. Even choose wrongly and fail, again and again until he would find the right path for him. "A policeman, a governmental agent, an artist."
He nodded. "I know. I think about it a lot, and the same question always haunts me: what if it"s not enough? What if I'm not happy?"
She looked deep into his eyes. "Are you happy now, Steve?"
He did not suspect, but this question meant everything to her.
He looked away, rubbed his jaw then glanced back at her with a smile.
"I think I am," he spoke softly. "I feel like I have finally found my place in the world."
His answer disturbed her. It somehow shook down her new plan. Steve just said he felt whole as Captain America and yet she had spent enough time with him in the future to know that he wasn't; that he was missing a piece. Maybe this Steve had no idea yet how much he treasured his life in Brooklyn in 1943, but surely it was something the other Steve had gotten to realize after losing it. Reason why she wanted to prevent it before it would happen.
Barnes came back a few minutes later. Alone.
"Oh we have to go the movies on Friday before we head back to Europe," he said. "There's this film that came out, Shadow of a doubt, made by this English guy everybody knows in Europe, Alfred Hitchcock. The critics are good, what do you think?"
"I've seen it a dozen times," Natasha said under breath. Steve Barnes gawked at her. "Read. I mean I've read about it a dozen times."
"Great! That means you're in!" he said, wiggling his eyebrows at her.
"I guess I am," she answered with a smirk, "Not that I had a saying in the matter."
"Don't even try. I haven"t had a saying in the matter since 1925," Steve commented matter-of-factly, shooting a crafty look in his best friend"s direction.
"Oh shut up. You came up with 50% of the shenanigans we have committed and you know it."
Steve smirked. "40%," he protested in a deadpan voice.
Barnes gave him a crafty smile then went on to dance again.
After a few more dances, Barnes came back to the table and grabbed his coat.
"Sorry guys, but I'm afraid I"m gonna have to call it a day," he said to them.
"What are you talking about? It's barely 10 p.m," Steve snorted.
"Yeah well I"m back home for a week and tonight should, therefore, be a celebration which, it seems, Margaret is keen to celebrate with me," he explained, glancing behind at his dance partner then turning to them with a suggestive smirk plastered on the face.
Natasha and Steve both rolled their eyes although it was probably for different reasons. For Steve, it appeared to be mostly because it was a deja-vu he was getting fed up to live over and over again.
"Wish me luck," Barnes winked.
"Don't push it," Natasha retorted.
He leaned over and planted a kiss on her cheek.
"If this is any consolation, it tears my heart apart to have to cut the evening short," he teased. "I promise I'll keep you in my thoughts."
She made a face. "Eww, I forbid you."
It made the two men smile then Barnes walked out of the venue accompanied with his conquest, a hand pressed on the small of her back.
Natasha turned to Steve whose expression seemed to reveal he was actually fine with his friend"s precocious departure.
"So, how were the last two weeks?" she asked.
He shook his head and a sheepish chuckle came out of his lips.
"I wouldn't want to bore you to death with my stories from the battlefield," he said humbly.
She propped her elbow on the table, rested her chin in the palm of her hand and looked at him closely.
"No, you wouldn't," she purred. Seriously, he wouldn't. She was tired of piling up these dreadfully quiet weeks while waiting for his return. She craved some action. Like a biological need.
Steve smiled bashfully and complied. He went on to tell her about him and the Howling Commando infiltrating a base from Hydra, the thrill he felt, the pride that took hold of him every time he was on the battlefield. She listened with much interest as she watched his face lit with excitement and content. She understood how gratifying it was for him to serve justice. It was something he had in his blood, just like she did, although it had taken her longer to find which side to fight for. Steve was born to become an Avenger. Captain America hadn't made the best out Steve; it was Steve who had molded Captain America from scratch.
"That was a good strategy," she commented after he finished. "Bold but good."
He looked at her quizzically.
"I mean," she coughed innocently. "I"m not an expert or anything. I'm just saying."
"Well, those are exactly the words the colonel used to describe it," he said, not really surprised but impressed nevertheless.
She smiled then music filled the silence for a few seconds.
"Nat," he started, nervously pinching the cloth laid on the table. "There"s something I wanted to show you."
He seemed to take a deeper breath than the one before then plunged his hand under his coat. He pulled a sketchbook out and handed it to her very gently.
She took the book and looked at him with a slightly puzzled expression.
"It's just a drawing I made," he babbled with a nonchalant shrug. Her face lit up in excitement. "But I think somehow you have every right to see it."
She opened the sketchbook to the last page he had drawn on, not giving much thought to his words as she was too eager to finally get a look at his work. Her breath was cut sharp when she laid her eyes on the sketch. She looked in awe at the delicate lines and shadows drawn to put her own features on paper. The drawing was an outstanding, gentle portrait of her. Her face was slightly turned sideways, her eyes seeming to contemplate something with a perfect combination of determination and softness, a few locks of her wavy hair falling on her temple.
"It's just a rough draft," Steve started. His seeming humility barely concealed the lie beneath. She could tell he had spent hours working on it. Moreover, it definitely didn't have the technique of an improvised sketch.
"It's beautiful," she cut him in, her eyes locked on the paper and unwilling to divert from it. She eventually raised her head and looked at him straight in the eyes. "It's beautiful," she repeated with even more gentleness and belief.
She had always wished Steve would open up enough that he would feel comfortable showing her his personal artwork, but never had she thought she would be the subject.
"It's my first try, really," he justified sheepishly. "I usually draw architecture..." he trailed off, slightly uncomfortable to voice out the rest of the sentence whose content she suspected greatly.
"And you chose me?" she murmured to herself. She knew what it meant and it both filled her with joy and sorrow. He hadn't randomly chosen to draw her because he wanted to have a try sketching people; he had drawn her because it fulfilled a need, the need to fill the void of her absence, and those hours he spent on this drawing had helped quench the waiting until the moment he would see her again.
"What made you show it to me?" she asked.
"I...," he started slowly, serenity slowly taking over his nervousness. "I guess it's a way to let you know that I don't forget you when I'm away."
His words stabbed her with a pain. Her heart unexpectedly warmed at hearing them then ached immediately after. It was one thing to leave Steve behind her; it was another to go knowing he had developed romantic feelings for her.
And finally, her ultimate thought was made by the agent she was: she had failed in her mission. She had failed to get close to him while keeping an emotional distance. She had failed to remain an acquaintance that Steve would easily forget about, and now chances were that he would miss her; and, because she knew the kind of person he was, she had no doubt he wouldn't rest until he found her.
This simple thought frightened her beyond measure. She had traveled to the past, imagined a plan to save both him and his best friend, had eventually decided to ensure he would live the life he had always deserved in the timeline he belonged to, and now she was watching it all crumble because she hadn't been able to maintain her cover and not to compromise herself emotionally speaking.
"You shouldn't have drawn me," she said, meaning she wasn't the woman he should have felt the need to draw on paper. It should have been Peggy. History says it should have been Peggy Carter. Her presence here couldn't interfere with this basic fact.
Her first instinct was to rectify her error. Because it was what she always been trained to do: to never accept failure; because she had to protect Steve regardless of her feelings and regardless of his own feelings. Nothing mattered more than accomplishing her mission and keeping him safe. Nothing. Not even a broken heart.
Steve looked at her quizzically, on the verge of letting the apprehension he had been holding back all evening come out to the light.
"Did...did I do something wrong?" he asked.
"No. I did," she answered coldly, angry at herself.
She took one last look at the drawing and reluctantly closed the sketchbook. She couldn't look at this portrait any more second without feeling the pain and the guilt for what she was about to do rise within her.
"You're growing attached to me Steve and I can't let that happen," the words scratched her throat on their way out.
He shut his agape mouth. "Because you're not?" he asked, incredulous.
"It's different," she said.
He had a look of consternation.
"What do you mean different?"
"You don't know me, Steve," she spoke sharply.
Steve was in complete and utter disarray. Incomprehension was taking the best of him.
"But you said...Didn't you mean it when you said you'd miss me?" he inquired. "Because I wasn't exactly truthful earlier, I am not just happy in my life right now because I'm in the army. It's because I've got everything I ever wanted and that includes-"
Her heart ripped apart like a piece of silk for what she was about to voice aloud.
"I said what you needed to hear," she interrupted him, refusing to hear any more of it. She spoke slowly, with a steady voice. She had learned to keep her composure under all circumstances. "But the truth is, I only see you as an agreeable acquaintance."
She loathed this calumnious lie although she looked him straight in the eyes so that her statement couldn't possibly be questioned in any way.
He believed it quickly, so quickly, as if she had uttered a simple fact he just had been blind not to see all along. Part of her was mad he put credits on her words so readily.
His breathing lost its natural pace and became notably jerky. He took control back of it and swallowed hard.
She saw his heart break and hers broke along. He didn't suspect it, but it broke twice as much as his; one time for the pain she caused him, one time for the pain it caused her. But she had to do it. It would be easier for him to forget about her if he resented her (she wished she could say hated her but she knew Steve didn't have room for hate in his heart). She didn't give much thought about how she would feel because this was the kind of hurt she had always lived with. She would go back to the future and carry this pain with her just like she always did. It certainly wouldn't be the first wrong she had committed but somehow it was the kind of red on her ledger she could deal with.
Now she hoped distance would be the most appropriate closure and the best way for him to heal from his infatuation now that she had stifled it before it could turn into something stronger.
"I don't want to be any kind of distraction," she said. "And I think it's time for us to part ways."
It killed her a little inside to have to say farewell earlier than planned but she also knew it would be a lot less painful for the both of them.
She took her coat and her purse and left the table, swiftly walking across the dancing room to the exit. She put the coat on and stepped out on the street. A cold wind slapped her face and somehow and she didn't mind as it distracted her for a second from the turmoil in her heart. Pain was all she could feel at this moment.
"Natalie, wait!" she heard behind her as one hand took a grip of her arm and pulled her back. Steve made her turn and face him.
His face showed nothing other but disarray and hurt.
"Why?" he whispered, at loss of others questions to ask.
She felt a lump in her throat.
"I don't get attached to people," she hissed hardly. "It's in my nature. Don't try to fight it." A deep frown rose across his forehead. "You'll be better off without me. You can't see it yet but trust me, you don"t want to go down that road," she said. "You have to let me go, Steve."
Her gaze was still, her voice imperturbable when she made this heartfelt request and yet every fiber of her body contradictorily begged him not to.
His chin trembled slightly then he looked her deep in the eye as he slowly loosened up the grip around her arm. He then let his hand fall in the air back to his side.
His pupils quivered until what would be his last word came out.
"Alright," he whispered weakly, resigned.
She kept her steely look until she turned his back at him and left. She surrendered as a single tear fought its way out and rolled down her cheek while she silently walked in the dark street where her aching heart could weep in full discretion.
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Thank you guys for the likes and comments! They mean a lot!
What do you think will happen next? On a scale of 1 to 10, how heartbroken is Steve?