Fair warning: this fic will have an angsty, self-depreciatingly slow build-up for my OTP. Why I like to suffer? I don't know. I hope you enjoy it.

Natasha eyes flashed open a few seconds before her alarm pierced through the silence of her darkened room. The shrill cry of the ringing filled in her head and she couldn't tell the difference between her phone alarm and the blaring alarm of the hospital.

Her hand slammed on the button angrily and in fear.

Another nightmare.

Her chest heaved and her throat felt the familiar dryness of gasping for air repeatedly while sleeping. Shivering from cold sweat, her hands flew to her hair pressing against her head as if to push the nightmares away. But when Natasha closed her eyes, the fire was still there. She could even hear the crackling of flames as they consumed her surroundings; the screams of people caught in the chaos. She heard it all, felt it all, smelled the smoke filling her lungs.

She wiped her clammy forehead and threw the covers off to head straight for a cold shower. The hospital fire had consumed her dreams this time and Natasha was certain she could feel the heat once again - the flames licking at her back as she hurried to escape. She felt it around her still, unbearable heat surrounding her body uncomfortably and stinging.

At least it hadn't been about Bruce.

Not that she was weak or couldn't handle it, but it seemed her subconscious was still not accommodated to the torture of new nightmares. The fires, the blood, the killings, the trainings - all of the horrible experiences were not new to her. Natasha was shattered after every nightmare, but she was also expecting them. She lived in the ashes of her past life; the pain they brought crushed her but she knew they were coming. It's the least she deserved.

Then came the dry memories of Bruce and their brief, almost nonexistent time in Sokovia.

That was new.

And yet the nightmares weren't really about him - per se - but what he'd represented for her.

She truly had wanted to give it a try - at the brink of attraction and care - it was a beautiful prospect, and Natasha had been honest when she told him about going with the feeling, that night in Tony's party. And he'd encouraged her. Given her hope.

Natasha had been a fool to believe him.

When the video feed of the quinjet ended, and left her with nothing but a blankness before her, she didn't know what to feel. The same notion of nothingness overcame her when the team disbanded and Fury told her about the possible whereabouts of the jet.

Nothingness.

The same nothingness of killing the girls around her to ensure her safety. The nothingness of Alexi's death and betrayal. The same nothingness of the Red Room after being wiped and wiped again to ensure loyalty and success. The same nothingness when Clint's arrow was aimed at her forehead.

The word clouded her eyes and brain.

When the nightmares started, she was caught off guard. She was back in the Red Room, surrounded by mirrors, with the same feeling of emptiness and the memory of Bruce leaving her. He always left her; his eyes held no devotion for her. She was alone. Dejected. Not even another monster wanted her. Alone. Left behind.

Left behind.

What she deserved.

It stung. The words branded her heart uncomfortably as she scrubbed the filth of her dream away until her pale skin was red and raw. The shower was not helping to clear her head.

Natasha Romanoff wasn't suffering from a broken heart. No, it was much worse. She was suffering from worthlessness and fear of never breaking free of the red.

After the shower, she dressed in her catsuit and dried her hair - it was longer now - gazing at it as she stood in front of her mirror. Today's schedule called for training recruits. The Avenger's facility was growing now, and while Steve and her had already finished with the basics for the new Avengers, they still had ongoing team-building.

The SHIELD recruits started coming in a month ago. With Agent Hill and Agent 13 housed with them to help, Natasha was confident. SHIELD was reviving, from the moment the helicarrier saved the people of Sokovia, and was only growing stronger with Steve Rogers protecting it.

Her mind lingered on his name.

The friendship that started back when the Winter Soldier appeared hadn't fizzled away as it once threatened to. Steve had become the friend she needed - just like Clint had been from the get go. Now, she could boast about having two best friends - two people that she trusted and trusted her back.

Two people that she fought for. Natasha knew that if Clint and Steve were by her side then maybe she could clear some red. Maybe her sins would be lighter. And if saving them by ending her life would be the way to do it, she wouldn't hesitate. She was prepared for it.

Almost two years had gone by and Ultron's attacks were starting to become a distant memory, or rather, just another crisis averted. Within that time, Steve had been solid. As usual. He'd been there to help her get over Bruce without addressing it. Instead, he'd show up at her room with a smile and an invitation to spar. Some days it would be dinner with the rest of the team, other days just them going into the city and trying out different foods.

He never really asked to talk about it, which she was grateful for. Eventually, she was comfortable and steady enough to bring it up on her own. They talked and she had felt lighter. As she expected, he hugged her tightly and assured her he'd be there for her - even if it was the middle of the night. He'd whispered about his own nightmares and how he was afraid to sleep sometimes.

He assured Natasha she wasn't a monster with such sincerity she almost believed it. Almost. But Steve Rogers was too good, too pure. Even though he knew about her past, either by her own mouth or by the open files about her, he never judged her. Natasha was even more determined to save his life if ever the opportunity arose.

He also assured her she wasn't alone. He shared his nightmares and his worries. His guilt. His mistakes. His trust in her helped her get through the bad days. A day like today.

Natasha sighed as she looked in the mirror. She felt like shit.

Chuckling at her own crudeness, she hid the desire to fill her eyes with tears. She needed Steve's optimism today, otherwise, things would go to hell. She needed to see him happy and excited to train the recruits, joking off-handedly with her about Sam not catching up to him while they ran. She simply needed a good dose of Steve Rogers.

Again her mind lingered on his name and she shook her head violently.

Within the first twelve months Natasha noticed that Steve was falling in love with her. At first she was pleased - sitting in the middle of her bed contemplating it. It pleased her to know she was still desirable and wanted. Bruce had left her ego bruised and hurting. With Steve's attention, she was working to get it back. Perhaps it was vain, but it felt good.

However, after feeling pleased, Natasha felt guilty. She didn't want to feel like that about Steve's affection. Natasha wasn't ready for them and she didn't want to take advantage of him. He wasn't a mission or a target. He wasn't one to be manipulated to her every whim. Steve didn't deserve someone who would use his love as a form of self-gratification. He deserved someone who would love him back with the same happiness and purity that love was.

After the guilt came the sadness. She didn't want to lose her best friend. Then she would really be alone. With Clint retired (indefinitely) the only friend she had close to her was Steve. What if things changed between them? What if he decided to act on his feelings? She'd have to let him down easily, but she knew. She knew. They would never be the same again. It wasn't because he'd be offended or angry. No, she was sure the one to change it would be her. The fear that always bubbled within her would tell her to run, to get out of there while she still could and once she was safe and alone, she'd live a new life without once thinking of what she destroyed behind her.

The only advantage was knowing beforehand. Whether Steve was aware of his feelings yet or not, Natasha knew; she would make sure they didn't progress. After all, the Black Widow was nothing if not excellent at manipulation.

Natasha didn't like the idea of playing with Steve like that, but it was better for both of them. She was not going to let herself feel exposed anymore. She had learned her lesson years ago with Alexi. With Иаков. She was reminded of it by Bruce. Natasha Romanoff was not made for romance. She was made to deal with missions, to deal with threats, to deal with nightmares.

She was not made to deal with love.

Steve Rogers was good. He would breathe life into her everyday and make her feel like the good she was doing would one day clear her ledger.

Hurting him with her lack of emotions would bring it all right back. Natasha had to do it. She had to silently let him know he couldn't love her because she'd never be able to return the feelings.

Shaking her head and pressing her hands on each side, Natasha forced her eyes to clear again and looked in the mirror. Her hair was already done, her suit ready...but her mind. That was still not settled. It wouldn't be today.

She had started that personal mission almost a year ago - make Steve fall out of love. Natasha had danced around the thought Steve loved her for longer than their stay in the facility. She sometimes liked to entertain the idea of the soldier falling in love with her during their time in D.C.

And it brought the same feeling of guilt, fear, and sadness. Steve was her friend and didn't deserve what she was giving him - which was nothing. That had been months ago.

Now, she believed she had succeeded.

It was difficult for her. She admitted that much. It had taken him a year to fall in love with her. And it had taken her a year to stomp on the hope of it.

The day after she figured out Steve's feelings, she took it upon herself to act exactly the same and entirely different all at once.

It began with the same trips to the gym, dinner and to the city. She still went to him when the nightmares were too much and he was always welcome to talk to her when his were.

She didn't change their friendship. That was something too valued to ever changed.

But she made sure to let him know she was better now. At first he didn't believe her, but soon Natasha was able to convince Steve she'd gotten over Bruce, over what he'd made her feel and about the demons facing her each night. She pretended to walk around with a happier heart and a steadier mind when it came to her self-esteem. When she did have nightmares, they'd talk. Always about the fires, and the killings, and the Red Room. Never about Sokovia. Those nightmares didn't exist anymore - according to her. Steve could tell she was lying at first, but eventually he believed her. Natasha made it so - it was so convincing she almost believed it herself.

But that wasn't true.

Then Natasha started dating - anyone who asked her out. Meaningless dinners and club outings. Sometimes she didn't remember their names the following day. It was all for the sake of her mission. If Steve realized there could only be friendship between them, then he'd extinguish his own feelings. Natasha knew him and was certain he'd never risk exposing his feelings to her if it would change their friendship or make it awkward.

After she started dating, she took up setting him on dates again. He was adamant about it - never saying yes to any girl she'd talk about. Steve never gave her reasons, just a sad smile and a muttering of being too busy still.

She knew the truth, but kept it quiet.

Yes, in a way she was lying to him. But it was for his own good.

It took long - much longer than she wanted - but in the end, the extra light in Steve's eyes whenever she appeared before him diminished back to the same look of friendship they once had. He never sulked or appeared hurt before her. Steve was too much of a gentleman and too strong to make her uncomfortable. But Natasha noticed, every now and then, the almost-silent sigh he let go whenever they parted as if missing something that could have been theirs.

Natasha wasn't stupid. If she wasn't so damaged, they would have been happy together. They would have made it work and would have been happy and great and almost perfect...

But it was a nice dream. That's why when it happened, she mourned the loss of it, too.

Shaking her head, Natasha looked at herself once more. Those memories only made it worse.

It had been three months since the extra light in Steve's eyes, reserved just for her, had gone away. He still hadn't said yes to any dates, even though Sam had also taken it upon himself to drag him out to mingle whenever they were in the city.

Natasha opened the door of her room and walked out into the hall - head held high as usual. The show must go on. She was supposed to meet with Maria in twenty minutes. That gave her enough time to grab a quick breakfast in the cafeteria (and thank their lucky stars Stark was in charge of running the place - they had top quality food). She'd push the bad day back until Steve was next to her. He'd help her.

Turning the corner she spotted him, leaning against the corner of the hall. His broad back was facing her; she noticed he was wearing his suit, shield secure on his back. Probably getting ready for another mission with Sam.

She faltered and made no sound when a thin hand came out from in front of him and held Steve's shoulder. Natasha couldn't see who it was, but the woman was wearing black - judging by the long sleeve covering her wrist.

Suddenly, that same hand turned to an entire arm. They were hugging. Natasha was still frozen in the spot. The mystery woman was holding on tightly and Nat could see Steve's arms wrapping around her waist, head leaning on her shoulder as she stood on her toes to soothe him - soothe each other.

"What am I going to do without her, Steve…what are we going to do..." the voice said. Natasha recognized it quickly. Sharon Carter. What caught more of her attention was the tone of it. She sounded weepy, strained, and sad.

"Peggy wouldn't want us beating ourselves up for this," he said, and Natasha almost didn't recognize his voice.

"But she was everything I had. It was Aunt Peggy who took care of me when my parents died. Aunt Peggy who taught me to be who I am now…" Sharon said, crying freely now. Steve pulled her away and held on to her shoulders. One hand lifted her chin.

"I understand, Sharon, but she isn't everything you have now. You have this. SHIELD. Your friends. You have me, okay. We'll get by…"

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she said, her voice filled with guilt, "I'm being selfish. You must be hurting just as much and here I am..."

"It's okay...when do we leave?"

"The car will be ready for us in a half an hour. She asked to be buried...to be buried in Brooklyn," Sharon said, her voice breaking with the last word. Steve visibly tensed, shoulders squaring off instantly and Natasha knew he was trying to keep it together - to not break down.

"I'll talk to Hill and Fury about the mission," Steve said, voice rough, "I'll meet you...by the car."

Before they broke away, Natasha stepped back and hid within the shadows of a weapon's closet. She had to talk to Steve but didn't know what to say to Sharon. They hadn't worked together much, and Nat wasn't good at comforting a person she didn't know. Stealing a last glance, she saw Sharon head back to her own quarters. Steve stayed, leaning on the wall, his hand going through his hair.

Natasha took this opportunity and slipped out of the closet, walking silently up to him. He noticed her almost instantly, no expression on his face except for wide, glassy eyes. It was as if someone sucked the air out of her.

The day had officially gone to shit.

"Hey…" she whispered.

"Hey"

"Going somewhere?"

"Brooklyn," he said, a heartbreaking frown forming in his lips, "Peggy's last wish. Brooklyn."

"Steve…"

"She asked to be buried there. Nat, and I wasn't there for her…I never was," he said, choking back a sob as he cleared his throat, "I didn't deserve her then and now...now that she's…that she's…."

Natasha noticed he didn't want to say it, couldn't say it. Steve sighed and blinked back the threat of tears.

"I'm sorry," Natasha said, "But I know nothing I say is going to make you feel any better."

"Don't underestimate yourself, Nat," he said, turning to her with glassy blue eyes, "You're important to me. Just being here is making me feel better."

Speechless, Natasha smiled and grabbed his hand giving it a light squeeze. They stayed that way for a few minutes, Steve trying to get his breathing back to normal. Little by little the uneasy sighs rippling in his chest subsided. He closed his eyes.

"I'll tell them about the mission. You go get ready," Natasha said, letting go of his hand and pushing him towards his room. He complied without any resistance soon leaving her alone in the hallway. Turning on her heels, she walked over to Hill's office where she would find Fury as well.

She passed Wanda and Vision in the sparring room, then Rhodey in the mechanic station as he fidgeted with his suit and talked to Tony via screen link. Once she arrived, Maria and Fury looked at her.

"Agent Romanoff," Fury greeted, hands on his back and ever-black attire contrasting against the off-white walls of the room.

"Director, Agent Hill," she greeted, "Captain Rogers just received message from Agent 13. Agent Margaret Carter has passed away."

Fury and Maria's faces shifted immediately, looking at each other with solemn glances.

"I understand. The funeral?" Maria asked.

"In Brooklyn, today."

"Then I suggest you let your team know and get ready, Agent Romanoff," Fury said, head down, "Agent Margaret Carter started SHIELD and we all owe her our respects. You and the team will be traveling with Captain Rogers and Agent 13. I'm sure they will need you all in a time like this."

"Yes, sir," Natasha said, while Maria called the rest of the team to her office via com-links.

"Shall I contact the other Avengers, sir?" Maria asked.

"Get Stark on the line. Thor's in Asgard and Barton is safe at home," Fury said, sparing an almost non-existent glance at Natasha, "The rest…"

"Understood. Very well, Agent Romanoff, missions and trainings will be postponed today. You make sure to bring our Captain back in one piece."

Natasha nodded, and the exchange between her and Maria made her feel strange, as if Hill knew something she didn't. Before curiosity got the best of her, she turned and walked out the door. Without surprise, Sam, Rhodey, Wanda and Vision were walking up to her - expressions curious.

"We're postponing trainings and missions for today," Natasha started off, looking at her team, "We're heading to Brooklyn. Unfortunately, Agent Margaret Carter, founder of SHIELD, has passed away."

"Am I missing something here? Why are we all going?" Rhodey asked.

"Her and Steve," Sam said, realization dawning on him, "Is he okay?"

"That's what we have to make sure."

The drive over to the funeral was solemn and long. Natasha noticed Sharon's surprise when the entire team greeted her at the entrance of the facility and let her know they were attending to show their respects on behalf of Fury, who understandably couldn't make it.

Steve smiled softly although it didn't reach his eyes. Natasha's eyes flashed with the fires of her nightmare once again. Shaking her head, she walked on.

They left in multiple cars. Sam, Vision, Rhodey and Wanda driving behind them, while Steve, Nat, and Sharon led the way. The car ride was quiet. No one really had the urge to talk anyways.

Instead, Natasha looked at Steve. He was wearing his old army uniform - the deep green as intact as ever, khaki tie folded neatly into his shirt and hair combed perfectly. Sam and Rhodey had also sported their army attire stating they weren't only saying goodbye to an agent, but to a soldier.

Sharon looked beautiful, her knee length dress giving her an air of classic 40's fashion. The dress, cinched at her waist, spread out slightly and contrasting against her milky skin. It was demure and gorgeous. The long sleeve of the dress accentuated with a thin pearl bracelet and earrings. Her golden hair was twisted into a low bun to the side of her head, loose tendrils framing her face - Natasha was discreet but looked at her as if analyzing a new mission. Why? She didn't know.

With a sigh, Nat withdrew her stare from the agent and focused them on Steve.

She had been to many funerals - sometimes as a spy, other times claiming a victory, other times to mourn a loss. Whatever the case, she knew how emotionally draining they were. Taking a good look at Steve, she noticed his face was stoic and it worried her. He was torn up - she knew it - but wasn't going to show it. He'd only cried twice in his life, she remembered.

When they arrived, the clouds were gray and dense. Natasha couldn't help but notice how fitting it was. Upon entering, they were met with a solemn Tony Stark and Pepper Pots.

"Steve," Tony said, no trace of humor in his voice, "We're here for you."

"Thank you, Tony," he answered, before the billionaire wrapped him in a hug.

"I know how important she was to you. Hell, she was a constant in my life as well. The only closest thing to a loving aunt that I ever had. Aunt Peggy…" Tony reminisce sadly, "She was one of three who always remembered my birthday as a child..."

"She was perfect, wasn't she?" Steve asked, and Natasha could almost see the waves of sincerity that statement came with.

"She was."

After receiving a hug from Pepper, Steve strolled off to where Peggy lay, his hand gracing over the British flag that covered the lower half. Next to him stood Sharon, her head draped on his shoulder. Her shoulders shuddered from the tears she was draining.

"He's going to keep it all inside and break plenty of punching bags, isn't he?" Sam asked, turning to Natasha. The group of Avengers had gathered together and spoke among themselves.

"We'll take good care of him," Wanda said, "At least I owe him that much. After Pietro passed, he was there to piece me back together like an older brother. The least I can do is show him he is cared for equally."

"Most importantly, you have to get through to him, Romanoff," Tony said, looking straight at her, "I'm not trying to bring Sam down, or his metal buddy, but you are his best friend."

"I know, Stark. I won't let him down."

"Good," he said, glancing to the captain, "You're more than welcome to stay in the tower tonight. Going back to the facilities will be a long drive and I think Steve and Sharon are on their last string."

Natasha couldn't help but feel uneasy when she heard their names together. Steve and Sharon. It sounded nice, pleasant, and normal. She instantly despised it although she didn't question why. Later, the group broke away, Wanda and Vision going off to sit close to one another, Rhodey and Tony standing with Pepper by the tall windows, Sam and Natasha were left behind.

They didn't talk for a while. Natasha was too wrapped up in her own emotions, demons, and confusion. Then there was the hollow sadness she felt for Steve. Peggy was one of the two ties he had left of the world he knew. With her gone, Steve would feel alone once again. For Peggy Carter, it may have been 75 years of not seeing Steve and letting her love for him dull with time. But for Steve, it had been less than 5 years. His thoughts of her were still fresh in his mind.

"He's going to be alright," Natasha said, looking over to Sam. He nodded and looked back at her.

"I know he is. That guy is the strongest person I know. He knew this was coming. I guess what hurts him the most is the years he didn't get to spend with her. We talk about it sometimes, about what we would want if our lives were normal."

"What does he say?"

"He said his life stopped being normal almost 80 years ago when the serum first ran through his system. Still, some days he wishes he would have been found. He tells me he would have married Peggy first thing. But then," Sam said, shaking his head sadly, "Then he gets serious and tells me the man who wanted that went into the ice; someone else came out. Repeats it like he's trying to make himself believe that."

"I get him," Natasha said, "Our lives are similar. We can't get away from it. We've been made for this environment - literally. So many things have happened that now...it's impossible to have a normal life. Sometimes it hurts too much to want it so we block it out..."

"Yeah, I know. That's probably why he fell in love with you, I mean aside from being beautiful, lethal, and intelligent like Peggy."

Natasha whipped her head to face him, and felt as if a bucket of ice water had been dropped on her - soaking her entire being. She was between blushing and heaving with anger. And she definitely didn't need to hear that right now. Or today. But Sam looked at her unflinchingly.

A wave of anger - aimed at herself - rushed over her. The fire of the hospital glazed her eyes, the lies she told Steve for a year - it was for his own good - fresh in her mind. He couldn't love her. He couldn't love her. It would destroy him. Then destroy her. Natasha bit back a sob and cleared the hurt from her eyes.

"How…" she said, her surprise not fading from her delicate face. Sam looked at her, smiling and at the same time not really - there was a mix of bitterness and hurt in his eyes. Natasha tried to compose herself, but she suspected he saw right through the act.

"Come on, Romanoff, you may be his best friend, but so am I. He told me about his feelings for you. Told me you knew - it was obvious to him when you took a stand to it."

"He knew?" she asked, sadness overcoming her. Nothingness.

"Yes, and he respected your wishes and was grateful you found a way to make sure your friendship was left intact. Sometimes he even blames himself for falling for you. He tells me it was insensitive of him to push you when you were still mending a broken heart."

"I didn't have a broken heart," Natasha said, teeth grinding against each other. However, her heart broke at the thought of Steve blaming himself for loving her.

"Still…"

"If he's okay with it then why-" she began but he interrupted her.

"Why am I annoyed by it? Why bring it up?" Sam asked, looking at her then crossing his arms. He looked back at Steve, "Because Steve is strong but he's not indestructible and I don't want to see you regret it later and go after him once he's moved on."

"That won't happen," Natasha said, the words stinging her lips, "He deserves someone who can love him back. I was never trained to do that. I don't do that."

They were silent for what seemed an eternity before he turned to her again.

"Natasha, we've worked together for two years. We've been on many missions and have been saved by Steve more times than we would like to admit. But we've also saved each other, helped each other. We've grown as friends - you and I. The reason I brought this up wasn't to make you feel bad or to threaten you into not hurting Steve because we both know how useless that is."

"Then why bring it up?"

"Because I care. I know how important Steve is to you. You may think you can't love anyone right now and maybe you're right, even if no one believes that. We're not going to push you on it. But if you aren't right and the moment you lose what you thought was yours you change your mind...it might be too late."

They both looked at Steve and Sharon, talking quietly among themselves near a window. Both looked better than when they entered, faces still drained of any color but at least they were smiling. Sharon placed a hand on Steve, squeezing his shoulder lightly. He smiled at her.

Natasha got what Sam was saying but she was adamant with her choice. She had done what was best for Steve. And no one was going to change her mind.

Not even herself.

"He deserves someone who can love him back," she repeated, looking at Sam straight in his eyes, "I can't do that."

"Then I hope you believe it, too."

Silently, the separated. Natasha felt as if someone had punched her. She was dizzy, angry, and confused. Of course, Sam meant well, but she didn't need those words in her head. The day was bad enough already.

Natasha sat down in one of the far end chairs, taking a photo album in her hands from the nearby table. It was blue and worn. Opening it, the first page was blank except for a date scribbled in elegant script. The ink seeped through the yellowed paper, seeming thicker. Several ink spots dotted the date underneath.

1945

Natasha sighed. It must be Peggy's handwriting. Cautiously, she turned the page and was greeted with a black and white photo. The edges were extremely worn and tearing. However, the picture was still clear. Peggy, sitting on a crate, ankles crossed, and in full uniform. Her curled hair framed her face beautifully. She was looking down; a soft smile played in her lips. Below her was Captain Rogers, in a dark trench coat that ended at his waist. His helmet looked filthy and his shield was different. He looked up at her, too. A smile - his was wider - lit up his eyes. She had seen that light before but refused to think of it.

You were robbed of this life, Steve. And I'm not going to do the same.

She looked up. Steve was alone, hands in his pockets. Not hesitating, she stood - book in hand - and walked up to him. Nudging his elbow, she smiled when he turned.

"Soldier," she greeted, "How are you feeling?"

"I'm all cried out."

"You haven't cried."

"On the inside."

"Look what I found," Natasha said, opening the photo album in her hands. Steve turned to her and shot her a wide smile. She felt slightly better instantly and hoped he did too.

"I remember that," he said, for the first time today sounding sincerely happy.

"Of course you do, eidetic memory, no?"

"That's not the only reason. That was a bad day for me - the shows were getting to me and I felt useless, like a joke. Peggy caught me sketching myself as a dancing monkey, quite literally, and she put me in my place."

"I like her already," Natasha said, smiling down at the photograph, "Then what happened?"

"She sat down on that crate, looking at me like I was a lost puppy, and asked me if those were my only options. Peggy made me believe in myself and I owed her for that. Next thing we knew, I was in a jet with Howard and her getting teased about fondue and jumping off to save Bucky."

"How about this one?" Natasha said, turning the page and coming face to face with a group photo. It looked like it had been taken in the camp where they were stationed.

"Those are the Howling Commandos. My team. We led most of the undercover or black ops missions, infiltrated plenty of Hydra bases. Howard, Peggy and Col. Chester kept us in shape. Howard with the latest weapons and technology. The colonel with military strategies and a reminder of the rules every time we broke them. Peggy was the toughest. She kept us in line and made sure we planned everything, came back in one piece. She definitely showed us a thing or two about trainings."

"And I'm sure that's how she'd like to be remembered, Steve," Natasha said softly and closed the photo album, "Don't worry about what you didn't get to spend with her. Think about all the time you did, no matter how short it was. I'm not saying life was fair with you or that it shouldn't hurt, but she taught you a lesson without even knowing it. Peggy was strong enough to live her life, to hold on to the good memories and to be happy again because she knew that's what you would have wanted from her."

"I know…"

"And now...you have to follow her lesson. Be strong enough to be happy again. To honor the good memories she left you with and live again because I'm damn sure that's what she wanted you to do."

"Yes, ma'am," Steve said, "You can stop lecturing me now."

"Well, if Peggy isn't going to do it now, who will?"

Steve laughed softly - the first time today - and Natasha counted it as a win.

Her smile faltered slightly when - after some silence - he sighed.

Her traitorous mind teased her: Missing what he doesn't have.

It was a heavy sigh, one that truly didn't encompass how miserable he felt but it was close. It hurt seeing him so desolate, but there was nothing to do for now. She wouldn't push him to be happy; he needed time to mourn and get over his loss. Then, and only then, after he'd actually cried, would he be able to move on.

She really didn't know what came over her when she pulled him into a hug. It was long and comfortable. Her mind kept on running - as if by military chant - he does this to make you feel better, you do it too. But it wasn't only that. When his arms came around her tightly and he sighed in her hair, she knew it was more than a hug. Steve and Natasha were mourning more than Peggy's death. Softly, Steve ran his hand over her hair and kissed her forehead softly. A bittersweet thank you that felt like a reluctant goodbye. Natasha rejected that notion and looked up at him once they let go.

"Stark told us we're welcome to stay in the tower tonight. He doesn't want us taking you and Sharon up for the long drive," she said.

"Remind me to thank him."

That was the last thing he said to her that evening. All the while, as the group lingered and talked quietly among themselves, as Sharon greeted and mourned with the rest of the family members and friends, Steve had remained like a quiet, dark shadow near the unopened photo album and Peggy's coffin. After a couple more hours, the coffin was taken to be buried.

When it was time, Steve carried it, his hand grasping the golden bar tight enough to dent it. He was the last one to let go. Natasha had intended to help him through it, to reach over his hand and help him let go, but Sharon was suddenly there doing it for her.

Natasha remained unchanged - her face showing no emotion. Her intention never voiced.

She noticed Sharon holding onto Steve's hand a second too long before he let her go and stuffed his hands in his pocket before gifting her a teary smile. Sharon didn't comment or give off any resentment for having been let go.

Natasha didn't make anything of it. Tried.

If she focused on that, it would open a Pandora's box she would never be ready for.

Without further delay, the coffin was lowered, the shots were heard, and the flowers were thrown. Steve hadn't spoken a single word. He had been hugged by various friends, approached and saluted by several veterans, and patted by Peggy's remaining family members.

His tight-lipped smile was ever present.

Sam looked over to her and Tony, clearly worried.

"If he wants, I'll stay behind with him," he said, as they all settled into their cars. They were going to be transported back to the tower where they would stay the night.

"He's not coming back with us?" Vision asked, looking towards his captain.

"He hasn't said anything to me, and I'm not sure he wants to stay for a little while longer. Let the crowd disperse and say his final goodbye. But then again, I don't know. He's so..."

"Empty," Natasha said, and everybody else agreed.

"You may not need to stay," Pepper said, looking over to where Peggy's grave now stood. The team turned and saw Steve kneeling before the tombstone, his eyes covered by his hand. There were no glistening of tears, no shuddering shoulders as he wept. He was still - motionless. Behind him, however, stood Sharon. Her arms were delicately crossed in front of her, holding the blue photo album Natasha had seen earlier.

She was waiting for him.

After a moment, Steve stood. He turned to Sharon and with a nod began walking with her to the cars waiting for them. The rest of the team was quiet. Natasha looked at her shoes while her mind furiously tried to make sense of the day. Her nightmare had been the tip of the iceberg today and while she was telling herself the unease she felt was because of the funeral, a piece of her forgotten heart told her it was something else. A lonely part of her suffering gnawed at the dream; seeking comfort where there was nothing but a memory that never occurred.

"Ready to go, Cap?" Tony asked, opening the door for Pepper to slide in. Steve nodded, no smile this time. Wanda and Sharon got in the car afterwards.

"We'll take the other car. Meet you back at the tower, Stark," Natasha said, walking off slowly despite the drizzle that was thickening around them. The rest of the team filed into the waiting car, until the last one, Steve, buckled in. It wasn't an awkward silence, per se. The drive to the Avenger's tower as filled with staring out the window and the tapping of knees until Rhodey spoke.

"How did you meet her?"

His question was directed to Steve, although they weren't really looking at each other. However, it made the captain turn towards his teammate, his eyebrows twisting into a mix of surprise and tiredness.

"After I was enlisted by Dr. Erkstine, I was sent to camp. She was there on my first day, punching out a guy that asked her if she could handle herself. Peggy was one of the people in charge of my troop's training. She also escorted me to the lab where I was given the serum."

Natasha looked at Steve all throughout his answer. His voice was unlike him - rough and low as if torn raw by sandpaper. Still, speaking about her made his eyes slightly brighter.

"Was it worth it, Captain?" Vision asked. Steve sighed, and Natasha knew that question was always asked of him. He always answered truthfully, but once - late at night - he had confided in her that maybe it wasn't all true.

"Yes. It was. And I would do it again to make sure Red Skull was stopped."

Natasha bit her lip. He wasn't lying. When they had spoken about it, long ago, he told her he would have done the same thing - enlisted multiple times under different names, agreed to the serum, even agreed to the war bonds tour. That had all been worth it because it led him to save Bucky, form his team and defeat Red Skull.

However, there was more to his answer.

"If I would have known I was going to survive the plane crash and miss out on 70 years of my life...lose the people I loved...I would have thought about it. I'm not going to lie to you, Nat. I probably still would have done it. Still with the same will to stop that plane from reaching the country. I still would have spoken to Peggy on my last minutes. Perhaps I would have told her that I loved her. I would have done it again...but not with the same certainty. I don't think I'll ever have the same certainty again."

"I'm glad you think it was worth it, Captain Rogers," Vision said, snapping Natasha out of her memory, "This world would be a darker place without you to guide the Avengers. And although I didn't meet her, Agent Carter seemed to be a remarkable person. She taught you a lot."

"I'll owe her for that always…"

"She wanted you to be happy, Steve," Sam said, looking at his best friend, "Just like she learned to be."

"And I will Sam," Steve said, almost a whisper, "Tomorrow I will...just...not today."

The Avengers' tower was quiet - but then again, it was also pretty late. Upon arriving, Tony and Rhodey headed to the lab where they continued their morning conversation. After the rest had a light dinner courtesy of Pepper, they broke off to their own groups in the living room. Pepper and Sharon spoke quietly in the sofas while Vision, Sam and Wanda took to having a light drink at the bar.

Steve and Natasha ended up linking with Hill and Fury to discuss the events that would take place the following days. Their conversations were completely business, except for the light condolence both agents extended to Steve at the beginning of the conversation.

Once that was over and the two leaders had their instructions, Steve excused himself claiming he was drained. After disappearing down the darkened hall to one of the guest rooms, Natasha joined Pepper and Sharon until it was late enough to call it a day herself.

It wasn't like she was invested in the conversation anyways.

Natasha felt robotic and empty. She just needed vodka and sleep.

And that's exactly what she did. A bottle of Tony's finest and a pillow in her arms.

Natasha woke up four hours later, sweating and shivering in fear. She had been captured once again, wiped and sent to kill Steve Rogers. And she had succeeded. Natasha woke up with a strangled cry for help as she looked at her hands - only a second ago they had been dripping in Steve's blood. She sat up and curled herself in the corner of her bed, banging her head on the wall until she felt numb. Trying her hardest to erase the images in her head, she gave up and knew what bothered her that in her dream she'd stopped fighting them. She almost let herself get caught. She'd given up on herself.

She really needed to see Steve - needed to feel him alive. He'd remind her. He'd tell her never to give up on herself. Perking her head up, she strained to hear any sound around her. He hadn't spoken much and would probably have nightmares. If her unease was bringing them up for her, Natasha was certain Steve was experiencing worse.

Slipping silently out of the bedroom, she padded down the hall and to the main floor to grab a couple of water bottles, planning on going back to Steve's room. She wanted to talk. He probably wanted to talk. And she was going to be there for him, just like he'd be there for her.

Her plans to look for him were stopped short when - unsurprisingly she met him downstairs.

"Steve," she whispered, still shivering. He was alive.

He looked to her - facing the large windows that exposed them to New York. The light reflection of his face against the glass looked solemn but better than before. This gave Natasha peace.

"I was waiting to see if you'd show up," he said, giving the view one last look before he walked over to her. Natasha situated herself behind the counter of the kitchen island, resting on her elbows as he approached.

"How incredibly routine of me," she teased but her voice was flat. He smirked and it was sad, broken and masking pain.

"You're losing touch," he countered. Natasha chuckled dryly.

"Don't say that so loudly," she said, raising a brow, "People might hear you and actually believe it."

He sat in front of her, fidgeting with his fingers. They sat in silence; he was staring at his hands while she was staring at him. Suddenly, he spoke.

"Hey...I know that look. Nightmares?"

"You know me," Natasha said, bitterly, "Can't live without them."

"Nat," he admonished, reaching for her hands. She offered them gladly, "You're better than those nightmares. You can't keep believing in them. Those people who hurt you, Nat, they won't get to you now. The team will protect you. Barton will protect you. I will protect you."

"You'll be used against me," she said, words cracking under her heavy, controlled sobs, "Attachments are a liability in my life. If any of you get hurt because of me…"

"You've gotten hurt because of me," he said, pointing to the bullet scar the Winter Soldier had left her, "And you're still here. You're past was exposed because of me and what I decided for SHIELD. You were captured and hurt by Ultron while under my command. You were shot out of a building on last week's mission because of me. And you're still here. How is that any different?"

"Steve, you know it's different."

"No. It's not different. We're both Avengers. We're both fighters. We're both fighting for good. If our past comes back to pull us, we fight back. Attachments aren't a liability, Nat, they're our advantage because you won't be fighting back alone. We're in this together."

"I wanted you to remind me," Natasha muttered and frowned a sad smile at him.

"Tell me about your nightmare."

"I just needed to see you alive, we don't need to do more talking," she whispered. Steve looked at her with wide eyes, giving her a sad smile and shook his head.

"I want to talk about it with you. I was...gone...in your dreams?"

"You were dead. I was sent by the Red Room to kill you. I let myself be captured, Steve…" she confessed, "I stopped fighting them and killed you."

By now, Natasha was on the verge of losing it. Her demeanor changed - she looked unbearably worn out and disgusted in herself. She kept shivering and looking at everything but Steve.

"Hey, I'm alive. I know you'd never hurt me and I'd trust you even if I wasn't sure about what was going on."

"I know that."

"And you're here with me. You're still here. The Red Room doesn't have strings on you anymore and you are keeping it that way. You have never stopped fighting and I have yet to see you grow tired of fighting to be good."

"What if one day I can't fight anymore?"

"If you ever lose the will to fight against them, I'll be there to remind you or get you back. You know I'm not going to keep telling you that you aren't a monster. You've heard it enough times. And I realized that people in your life said a lot of things but didn't prove them. I'm going to be there to do so, Nat. I'm going to prove to you that you are not a monster and you are worthy of being happy. You are good. You are so strong and good. I don't want you to forget that. If it takes me proving it to you everyday, then I'll do it."

"You better not let me down. Because if you fail, I will hunt your ass until you regret it," she said, voice trembling. Steve tightened the grip on her hands and sighed.

"Hey, I know you. I trust you. You'd never stop fighting," he said, playing with her fingers absentmindedly, "And I need you here with me."

"Okay," she whispered and sighed. It was her turn now.

"Aren't we a sight…" he muttered sadly, looking at their joined hands.

"I know if I ask you to talk about it you'll tell me you're alright. And I believe you...to some extent...but you have to talk about whatever is bugging you or want to get off your chest."

"All of today...I spent it thinking about her - every single moment I spent with her, even though it was for a short time in my life. I thought about how easy it was for me to fall in love with her. I didn't measure the consequences. Granted, I never thought they'd be this heavy. It was just so easy."

"And what's the problem then…"

"That I never told her I fell in love with her. Maybe she knew back then...maybe she knew once I visited her again. But I'll never know for sure. I never told her."

"Steve, you were at war. It's understandable. Then you came back - and you haven't stopped fighting. Cut yourself some slack. She knew, okay? Look at me...she knew."

"I can never be sure." Steve said, but instead of answering back, Natasha walked over to the living room and grabbed the photo album. Walking back, she opened it to the first picture they had talked about earlier that day. Standing next to him, she wanted to wrap him in a hug and comfort him but he looked so fragile - she didn't want to confuse him. Placing the album before him, she pointed to them.

"This is why she knew. You're looking at her like she's the reason you breathe, the reason why you want to live. Peggy was a smart woman, Rogers, she knew."

"And yet she never heard it coming from me."

"You didn't either."

"And I'll always be waiting for those words; words I'll never be able to hear because she's gone. It's what hurts the most, Nat. That I never took the time to tell her I loved her and now I never will. I missed my chance and it keeps happening again and again."

"Don't do this to yourself, Steve. Believe me, it's not worth being stuck in the past. Some people can't escape it, but then there are people like you. You can live happy. You can find that reason again."

Steve looked up at her, meeting eye to eye. For a moment, Natasha thought maybe she had crossed the line or given him motive to tell her. Their faces were close, looking at each other. Natasha could feel the warmth of his body radiate to her, could hear the softness of his breathing. Her face was open; eyes glassy from her nightmare and emotions exposed. Having Steve near her made her vulnerability flare and seek comfort in his arms. She restrained herself.

Steve looked at her with slight desperation - or was she imagining that - he looked at her and his eyes were dark, almost hooded with clouds of wars; wars he had fought physically and wars he was fighting emotionally. His movements were constrained, she could tell, and he looked about ready to break down.

Suddenly he took her in his arms and hugged her, tightly and securely. Natasha was relieved and conflicted. On one hand, she wanted this hug as much as she needed it and not only to comfort Steve. It was the hug she was waiting for since this morning. She had been so heavy with anger and grief and sadness that she'd lost herself today in a whirlwind of nothingness. Steve was there for her; giving her the comfort she sought all day. A couple of tears slipped from her eyes, large and splashing on his shirt.

Closing her eyes to keep more from falling, Natasha returned the hug and felt the shuddering of Steve's chest as he held back sobs. His breathing was ragged. On the other hand, such close contact to each other at such a vulnerable state was never good. Natasha held back - held everything back - her emotions, her thoughts, her breathing, her movements. She couldn't cry more than what she already had.

He shifted and she responded until their foreheads were touching. Natasha's eyes were closed tightly, her hands not wanting to touch Steve's broad shoulders but unwilling to move. Slowly, she opened them and saw him; Steve's eyes remained closed as if he was concentrating intensely in order to control his breathing. When he opened them, Natasha noticed the brief flicker of light in his blue eyes. Her heart jumped and stopped altogether. It was gone all too quickly.

He opened his mouth but no sound came out. Natasha knew what was coming and had never been more afraid of hearing the words: I love you. I loved you? Her heart broke and she wasn't sure which of the two reasons made her feel horrible.

There was conflict in his eyes; longing and fear, curiosity and overwhelming sadness. Natasha braced herself, but she knew her face was a mixture of nervousness and expectation. When his mouth opened again and Natasha stiffened, she actually heard him as torn as he looked.

"Thanks, Nat," he said and leaned forward to kiss her forehead. His eyes were closed but she didn't need it to see his emotion - she had heard it and it was enough to break the remainder of her heart.

Without another word, Steve untangled his arms from the hug they were still wrapped in sluggishly - his grip was tight and Natasha could tell he was letting go of more than her arms. He took one last glimpse at the album closing it, said goodnight and walked off - away from her.

All the while, Natasha stared at him, wide-eyed and close to breaking as well. She contemplated following him, but it made no sense. She didn't need that - and he didn't want that. It was the Black Widow thoughts that told her giving away her body would fix things. She knew better than to hurt him that way. Hurt herself that way.

After letting a few tears grace her cheeks, Natasha walked off to her own room and tried to fall asleep, tried but she felt empty and it was worse than she imagined. Natasha was angry at the people who made her this way - untrusting and scared. She was angry at herself for letting emotions get to her head and heart. Selfishly, she thought of going to Steve. Of feeling him with her.

The day had been shit and she didn't like it.

She pushed the covers off - her eyes glazed and unfocused. Whatever she did, Natasha felt tense and conflicted and wholly demeaned by her own mind.

It had to stop. Any which way as long as it stopped.

Sam's words whirled in her head - confusing her and clearing her thoughts altogether. Natasha felt ripped apart, two sides of her fighting for dominance between what she couldn't have and what she knew would sooth her soul - at least for the night. She'd figure the rest out later.

But Steve deserved better.

He didn't deserve half a soul. Half a heart.

And he'd be lucky to get that much.

Still, she found herself flinging the door of her room open and walking straight to where she knew emptiness wouldn't follow. Conscience be damned. Black Widow knew self-preservation. Steve would take the hurt away. And she'd been hurting for so long.

Natasha would give anything to stop feeling like this, even if it was only for a night.

Because that's all they would have.

It was all she could have.

Not bothering to knock, she began disabling the lock-code to enter. A few minutes later, she was opening the door. Steve was sitting at the edge of the bed, shirt discarded on the floor as if he once had the will to sleep but lost it when he remembered the nightmares.

"What's wrong, Nat...are you alright?" he asked, instantly standing up, his face twisted into worry. Natasha almost hesitated, but he didn't deserve to be lonely tonight and she was sick of feeling empty.

"Tell me…" she said, tears brimming her eyes once again, "Tell me Steve...I can take the pain away tonight, just tell me."

"Natasha, what are you talking about?"

"Tell me please," she said, her arms grasping at his shoulders as she brought her body close and angled her lips to his. She spoke through gritted teeth, "I knew all along. And you were aware of it. Tell me."

Steve's face cleared with understanding as he took a step back away from her. Natasha followed, falling into her usual prowling habit, until she was holding him close once more.

"Nat, don't do this…" he warned but she didn't listen. His entire body tensed.

"I don't want it to hurt like this. I don't want to feel empty. And I don't want you to hurt...I can take it away…" Natasha said, burying her face in his neck and holding him tightly. She began placing soft kisses on him, her lips moist with tears left behind a trail, gleaming under the light of the lamp. Steve stiffened and pulled her away easily.

"Nat," he said, lifting her chin to look at her, "Forget the nightmares; don't let them affect you."

Of course he knew why she was acting like this. Still, she ignored him.

"I don't want to feel empty, Steve. Take the hurt away and I'll take yours away too," Natasha whispered, broken. She knew Steve was right and knew he'd be mad at her - hell, Sam, Wanda and probably Maria would be furious when they found out she'd hurt Steve….if they found out….if.

"I don't know what you want me to do."

"Just tell me," she repeated, stepping closer to him once again. Natasha was manipulating him and they both knew it - still no one made a move to stop, "Don't stay quiet with me, Steve. We tell each other everything…"

"Nat, you need to sleep. Just get some rest, okay."

"No, Steve, I don't want to sleep. When I sleep I feel empty and dripping in red. I feel abandoned. Make me feel different...please," she said, before pulling him down to make contact with his lips. The force of her pull made them collide against each other, causing Steve to take hold of her waist for balance. Natasha could tell he was fighting against her kiss. She fought back, keeping her hands on his neck, pulling him towards her. She tried to keep their lips joined and it was only when he tried to step back and gasped when they bumped into the dresser, did he give her access. He stopped fighting then. Instead his lips reacted to hers for a second - soft and tender. Natasha clung tighter but he pulled her away.

"Stop this, Natasha," Steve said, keeping his hands on her shoulders and at a safe distance. His eyes softened when he met her gaze, teary and lost, "Why?"

"I've already told you this, Steve. You won't feel alone tonight."

"And then you'll run away from me by morning and I'll be alone for the rest of the year, probably, until you decide to come back," he said, leaving her speechless, "You're right, Nat, I was aware you knew all along. And in time I understood where you were coming from."

"Steve,"

"No, let me finish. You wanted me to tell you. This is me doing so...I understood. Okay. I could have been more sensitive about the situation. You were going through so much. I probably would have risked our friendship, which is the most important thing in my life, Nat. And you found a way to leave it intact. I get it. But that wasn't the only reason...I also knew that if something would've happened between us - something you weren't ready for - you would have left."

"I can't help it…" Natasha said, almost an inaudible whisper.

"I know...and I'd rather live my entire life with you as my best friend; I'd rather have you in my life than spend a night chasing away the hurt then watch you leave in the morning."

"I can't live without you, Steve," Natasha whispered, too ashamed to look him in the eye.

"It doesn't matter; you'd still leave."

She looked at him then, eyes wide and red-rimmed. They both looked wholeheartedly broken - their breathing ragged and their arms hanging loosely on their sides without purpose. A few more blinks and soon Natasha's eyes were pouring down tears covering the apples of her cheeks. Steve was there immediately, hugging her as she broke down.

He soothed the shutters that rippled through her back as she clung to him tightly - almost viciously - but he didn't complain. Her nails dug into the soft, firmness of his back, but he never flinched. He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead again and again.

"I'm so sorry, Steve," Natasha said, through broken sobs, "I'm sorry."

Steve thought his heart couldn't possibly break anymore than it had all day; but he was wrong. His strong and resilient Natasha was breaking down and blaming herself. Hugging her tighter, he sighed.

"Nat, please, don't cry," he said, his voice like a lullaby to her, "Please don't torture yourself like this."

"I'm sorry," she repeated, but her shivering had ceased slightly. Steve took a deep breath and placed his hands on each side of Natasha's face, his thumbs wiped away the stray tears that curved against her cheekbone.

"Don't be sorry, Nat. You did nothing wrong."

"If that's true, then, neither did you. And we're both hurting," she said, looking into his eyes, deep and blue and gentle. Nothing compared to her.

"We've been hurting for a long time," Steve reminded, as if he read her mind, "You've made amends, Nat. You're a good person. A hero. You're strong and intelligent and beautiful. You're not empty and you're not dripping in red. You're not a monster. Please, don't believe you are."

"And yet, we're still hurting because of me."

"That's not true. You know it. Nat, you've brought me so much happiness because you've been there for me. Does that not count?"

"But…"

"No, don't find another excuse," Steve said, sighing deeply. He hugged her once more filling her with the sense of goodbye, "You've been there for everyone that needed you."

"Steve, no. I do have fault in this. All of this fucking mess - I'm empty. Like some half human they forgot to finish," Nat said, stepping away from him, letting her anger and sadness fill the space around her, "Look at me, trained for nothing else but chaos. Trained to infiltrate and kill and damage. Trained to pretend. All of my life it's been like that. I...I...I don't know who I am…"

"Who do you want to be?"

Natasha sobbed then, as images of a dream life flooded her mind - a dream life with happiness and a family. She imagined it all - everything she wanted - a home to call her own, somewhere far away where the evils of her past would find her and her family - someone she could love back. She wouldn't have to look past her shoulder every minute. She wouldn't have to fear the words I love you. Natasha would be herself, vulnerable and new.

And all that was impossibly far away from her. Unattainable.

Her knees wobbled until she stumbled to the floor. Steve caught her before she hit the ground, easing her to sit in a crumpled, teary mess. She clutched him again. Her mind torn between verbally abusing herself and feeling relieved.

Crying in front of him makes you weak. This is what the mighty Black Widow has become. You are worthless. Natalia Romanova was made to be a weapon, not a crying mess.

She shook her head, pressing it against Steve. He didn't say anything; simply held her tight.

"I'll never have that…" she muttered, "I'll never deserve what I want."

"Natasha, stop."

"It's true, Steve...I destroy everything I have and what I don't I make sure never to have…" she said, "And I told myself it was for your own good and I hurt you and...I didn't even care…"

"Nat, it's okay. I got through it," he said, making Natasha gulp back her loss, "And we're still here for each other. I don't know how to make you feel any better right now...but I promise I'll help you remember all the good you have in you. I'll help you see it like everyone else does. That's why when it happened, I fell for you easily. Because you've fought against your aggressors all your life - that's something that's made your strength mean something more, it makes your goodness mean so much more. You know the value of it because you didn't have it once."

"Steve."

"You're so ready to accept the negative and I have to work so hard to get you to understand otherwise," he said, voice firm and tired.

"It's what I was told all my life."

As Natasha said it, their eyes locked. Both sets stormy and glossy with unshed tears. Their faces reflected each other - in the purest form of sadness and grief. Steve sighed, hand running through his hair.

"I did love you, Nat. I loved you so much."

Loved. Loved. And he continued.

"And you'll always mean something to me because you are worth it."

Natasha felt a hollow contentment tingle in her chest; however, she also felt a gushing disappointment. She had gotten what she wished for but it hurt far more that she ever imagined. And it was all her own doing. She was fighting within herself, ripping apart whatever she could get her hands on with sharp, poisoned nails. Natasha felt herself break. And one word stood in her mind against the darkness. Loved.

Gasping back sobs, she curled into Steve's chest and pressed her palm flat against his heartbeat as he continued to run his hand down the length of her hair. He rested his chin lightly on her head, and stood against her like the strength she couldn't find.

"I'm sorry I hurt you like that. I'm sorry I manipulated you instead of being upfront about it."

"Stop. Nat," he said, "Look, we'll be alright."

"But you loved me…" she whispered in disbelief, sounding miles away; her voice, throaty and raw. Natasha felt Steve's shoulders sag and his hand stiffen against her head. He recovered in a second before answering in the same hushed lullaby whisper.

"Yeah...I did."