"I am sorry." Natasha said stiffly.

The words were always uncomfortable when they actually came from her.

"I know."

The words were tight and Natasha's eyes were drawn to the lines of his tense shoulders. He didn't sound particularly forgiving but Natasha hadn't expected that he would.

Holding back a sigh she took a step forward towards Tony.

She made the extra effort to force her voice to sound as sincere as she truly felt. "I agree with you- about the Accords. They need work, but we both know that." She stepped closer, coming around to see his face. "I agree with you. But Steve didn't make this about the Accords. He made it about Bucky."

She shook her head slightly in frustration.

She knew why Steve had done it. Understood that for Steve, Bucky took precedent. Like Clint always would for her. (She had thought they were moving beyond that. That they could all become each other's Clints' and Buckys'...too late now.) What hurt was that he had put her in a position where she'd had to choose. That he had dragged other people into the mess claiming it was about the Accords when it wasn't. Not really. Not for him.

And after Clint and New York, after all the things she herself had gone through, how could she not have sided with Steve in that moment? Because when he had been fleeing- it had been about protecting Bucky. She had let him go for that. Let him rip the last dangling threads of her new family apart...(Siberia, the fragmented footage she had seen from there. Family should not betray each other like that...later. Worry about it later. Vengeance is patience.)

She watched the tick in Tony's jaw twitch and resisted the sudden urge to put a hand on his shoulder. Stepping back a bit she turned to stare out the window and really did sigh this time. She understood Steve, but she also understood Tony's anger. In fact, she was rather surprised by his clemency. She knew now for certain that she was a far crueler creature than Tony- she would have been hunting them even now to destroy them.

The man shifted and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I guess you're going then." He said after a few moments of silence. His voice was aching tired.

"There are things I need to take care of." She confirmed, watching him through her periphery.

She needed new covers, new safe houses, and new contacts. Things she had put off after the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. to chase after the Winter Soldier. She needed to check in with Laura, fix things with Clint (Beat his head in until he haw sense.) Bathe herself clean of their broken family.

Natasha felt...dry. Wrung out.

After everything, it had all fallen apart again. Just as gut wrenchingly painful as the other million times her world had shattered into razor sharp pieces. (This time was worse. Maybe. Definitely.) She had tried so hard to hold with this one too. Tried desperately to hold the pieces together. But it had slipped through her fingers, just like all the times before. (Madame would have been disappointed- Don't think about that.)

And yet, perhaps not…

Natasha's fingers tightened around the dangling chain she gripped behind her back.

This time…

"We are used to the world falling apart. You and I." She said softly, "But at least this time we have more than what we started with."

Tony grunted sharply in disagreement. "Oh, do we?" he asked darkly.

She turned to look at him again and let the chain dangle freely between her fingers as she held it out. The tiny crocheted Iron Man swung merrily from the end. It glinted in the light and looked to her like something worth holding on to.

Stark took it gently from her grasp. "I thought I told her I wanted a beanie." He said in a fairly good imitation of his usual snark.

Natasha shrugged. "You only paid her in half a beagle so she took creative license with your commission."

The man gave it a considering look before stuffing the little Iron Man into his pocket. "She would." He muttered, eyes gazing out the window.

Natasha took a deep silent breath.

"They're going to be coming for you." Stark told her suddenly.

Natasha gave him a look.

"I'm not the one who needs to watch their back." She warned.

Then she turned and walked away. Left behind one of the few people in the world she had ever underestimated. He would need to be careful- swimming with sharks like Ross. Part of her wanted to stay. (A larger part than she could admit.) The man had no experience with infiltration or undercover work. But Stark...Tony, was a genius. Natasha would have to trust him to look after himself.

Nothing stays forever, she reminded herself.

There was work she had to do.

Natasha swung her duffle bag over her shoulder. The familiar weight of its contents tapped against her as she flipped off the lights to her room and closed the door behind her. She didn't glace back and by the time she slid into the nondescript blue car she had waiting for her, Natasha's burner cell buzzed. Stark must have found the USB Darcy had hidden inside the key chain. She left the phone there on the passenger seat as she pulled out onto the curb.

Staying together was more important than how they stayed together after all.

-….-….-…-

Many hours of driving and two plane flights away, Nadia waved charmingly at her neighbors as she jiggled the key into the familiar lock. Her bag, filled with camping gear, rested at her feet. Nadia was friends with all her neighbors although she didn't see them often. She worked as a flight attendant and was therefore rarely home. Even when she managed to snag a few days' vacation she often chose to go camping instead of home, get away from all the hustle and bustle.

Nadia was young and flighty.

Nadia was perfectly comfortable around civilians.

Nadia also had a new girlfriend that she worried about. Her job meant that they would have to be apart for many months. Not only that, but being constantly on-call and up in the air meant that they would have little chance to call or even text each other. She hoped it wouldn't be too long before they are able to see each other again….that she would wait for Nadia to catch up…

(The best lies always have an element of truth to them.)

Door finally open, she hefted her bag inside and flicked on the light.

She locked the door securely behind her.

Nadia removed her comfortable hiking shoes and left them neatly on the entrance mat. She threw her luggage on the couch. Exhausted, she headed straight for the bathroom to splash water on her face and then tucked herself into the slightly lumpy bed.

Nadia dreams of Natasha...

-….-….-…-

Natasha doesn't hate civilians.

It's just that she doesn't know how to be around them.

It isn't a problem on Ops because she isn't herself on Ops. She isn't herself most of the time.

She's been unmade and remade so many times. Shattered and compressed until she is something newer, colder, deadlier each time. She knows the things that she'd done. Accepts that for many, she will never be able to scrub herself clean. She did what she did. Was who she was.

Whatever family the Red Room had pried her from, it meant nothing too her. Whoever that child had been, whatever future had been in store, she had never known it. Even when she had left the Red Room less then ash behind her, she had not thought to go chasing that life. She'd been shadow at the time. Less than even that. And underneath the nothing had only been more nothing. As anyone and everyone, she lured men and women, young and old, into her embraces and shred them without care for anyone willing to pay. Until her hands had been stained the deepest of violent reds.

It had taken years and years before she had run herself dry. Until her long stone heart began to ache when she watched friends and family hug each other on the streets. Until a naïve idiot corners her and is stupid enough to say, "I never finished introducing myself last time, I'm Clint." With blood pouring from his nose and an arrow aimed steadily at her heart. Until she wants to be someone.

Natasha is focused on simply trying to find out who she is now.

Whoever that is, this Natasha, she doesn't know how to be around civilians.

When a dark haired brunette dressed in leggings and a long comfortable sweater, who Natasha instantly identifies as one Darcy Lewis, interrupts her reading time, Natasha is fairly irritated. She's been running around the world, digging up old contacts and treading haunted grounds to try and help Steve find his friend. She doesn't often get time away to sit in the quiet and read some trashy romance novel; to come down from the Adrenalin and the stress.

Natasha finds Darcy Lewis irritating.

But Clint likes her.

He's charmed by her attitude and her kindness.

Natasha doesn't trust easily. How can she trust anyone when she can't trust herself?

It takes her awhile to realize that Darcy doesn't see her as an assassin. She sees Natasha as an Avenger- As a hero. The name Black Widow means something very different to this woman, to the rest of the world, now.

So Natasha does the things she knows best. She does reconnaissance.

S.H.I.E.L.D. had some files on Darcy Lewis that she is able to read through. Lower middle class back ground, raised primarily by her grandmother, average grades and an average life until her internship with Jane Foster. There is a few notes on her hacking abilities which is interesting but not much else.

Unsatisfied, she watches the woman's interactions with others.

Natasha spends a little more time in the kitchen.

Darcy is intimidated by her, Natasha would have considered her a fool if she hadn't been, but it fades relatively quickly. The brunette always quick to bounce back and return, each time bearing more tempting foods. When Natasha shows even the slightest hints of interest in something, the woman changes course to fit that taste. It would be pitifully amusing if it weren't also so touching.

(Enjoyment had never been a part of food for her. Even a few years ago, would she ever have tried to consider what she herself enjoyed eating? Eat what you eat to survive and complete the mission- it had never mattered before if it was caviar or dirt.)

Darcy wonders her way into the life of a spy and assassin as though it were no strange thing.

It takes her awhile but Natasha catches up with herself. She likes Darcy Lewis. Finds her witty and…kind.

She thinks Darcy is perhaps her second friend.

She doesn't quite understand the obsession Darcy formulated in Stark's A.I. but her comments resharpens the Widows eyes. Natasha does more reconnaissance. Digs into financials and charities. She watches interactions closer and with clearer eyes. She sees the edges of the mask that she had missed, the charade that buried him under layers of himself. He deflects with grandeur and disbelieved narcissism. He purposely picks fights with Steve, pushes War Machine away, and isolates himself when emotionally compromised. It is a mask that he himself almost believes. She had missed it. Natasha, who knows better than perhaps anyone how masks can seep.

('Tony Stark- Not recommended.' Like she herself had ever been. Sloppy…regretful.)

But Darcy had.

Darcy had noticed what Natasha had missed...was even working to fix the problem.

It is not often that the Black Widow misses something. It is unheard of for a civilian to see what she does not.

Natasha is...interested.

Clint is unbearably smug when he realizes she has realized what he knew weeks previously. (Because of course he catches on. He knows her better than she knows herself.) Natasha is forced to make a point in their next sparing session and wipe him to the floor repeatedly and thoroughly.

And there is another strange thing, because most people assume she and Clint are involved. That if they aren't in a romantic relationship, they are at least having sex. This is of course, a rumor Natasha purposely encourages. If people assume the greatest weakness for the Black Widow and Hawkeye are each other, it keeps them from looking for other more vulnerable targets (Laura). But Darcy never suggests she thinks Natasha and Clint are anything other than the closest of friends- which is accurate and a little disconcerting.

(Impressive)

The more time Natasha spends around the woman, the more Natasha wants.

Darcy gives her a handmade beanie and asks for nothing in return.

It's not the first gift Natasha has ever received. She has had hundreds of gifts of the years; usual expensive jewelry from marks, the occasional weapon from Clint or S.H.E.I.L.D. But it is the first good thing Natasha has ever owned that was crafted for her. It's soft and plush and small and inconspicuous enough that she can take it with her on missions. Natasha wears a black knit beanie while she runs around Russia, Ukraine, Romania, Somalia, and Nepal.

On site she wears slightly lower cut tops and tighter pants. Natasha is a beautiful woman. She knows this. It is how the Black Widow works after all. It is a strength she has always been able to depend on.

Darcy Lewis doesn't notice.

(It was both refreshing and frustrating.)

The hunt for the Winter Soldier runs cold (as Natasha had suspected it might.)

Natasha wants Darcy Lewis.

Clint's advice, not asked for but obnoxiously given when she joins him at the farm for dinner with the family, is that she should be clear in her interest but not 'pushy'. Civilians are complicated and delicate.

Following Clint's advice is more difficult then first imagined. For one Natasha is not used to having to expose herself (her real self) in such a way. For another, nothing Natasha actually is comfortable doing seems to communicate to Darcy her interest. So she goes to the extreme; she tries a towel. Meticulously placed, wrapped tight in the front to accentuate her bust, opening running up her thigh.

When that fails Natasha decides she must reevaluate.

Perhaps she had read Darcy wrong. Such a thing doesn't happen often but her recent insight that she had misjudged Tony Stark of all people makes her believe it may be a possibility. (Maybe she's going soft. Soft and dull like an old blade. She thinks perhaps this might even be okay for the family she has found). It is possible, she concedes, that Darcy isn't gay. That she wasn't interested in woman. Or that she just wasn't interested in Natasha.

Then Darcy invites her out.

She can tell the though put into it and she is…touched. They work so well together too.

Determined to get a straight answer once and for all, she drags Darcy back to her sanctuary. Her room.

And it all comes out. It is easier, sometimes, to be straightforward. They lay together on her bed and it's…comfortable. It's not how she thought it would be; there is no warm groping, no joining of hot mouths and sweaty bodies. But it is warm and peaceful and Natasha feels her constantly tense muscles relaxing. It feels…intimate. She wraps her arms around Darcy's waist and breaths her floral scented shampoo and feels like everything was worth it to find this.

When she wakes in the early morning, she grazes down at Darcy's lightly snoring face, and sneaks a hand into the cold and grabs her phone.

Opening Google she begins her research- typing 'Asexual'.

She's not going to let what this could be slip away.

-….-….-…-

Several months later, after Darcy and Jane go north to Iceland following some radiation in the stars, after a building explodes in Lagos and the Sokovia accords tear the Avengers apart…after it all, Darcy sits in her hotel room watching Netflix on her laptop. Jane was fast asleep down the hall but Darcy was up waiting…

She checked the time at the bottom corner of the screen, frowned, checked her phone, and then switched from Netflix to Youtube for some quality unlikely animal friend videos. Her mind was on their last text conversation, eight days ago now although it felt like a lot longer than that.

N: You were right about Stark. (3:51 A.M.)

D: And?

N: Hes having me go under. I'll be there when I can. Have a few things left to take care of first. (3:54 A.M.)

Despite her best efforts Darcy's eyes began to sag.

She pinched her arm and was about to go splash water on her face when a knock came from the door. Darcy grabbed her taser from the nightstand and stuffed it in her back pocket. Then she inched her way to the door, heart pounding, to peak through the little spy-hole.

A blonde woman shifted uneasily on her feet.

Darcy threw open the obnoxiously heavy door with a broad grin.

Natasha stood in the fluorescent lit hall, dressed in casual civilian clothes, her hair dyed blonde and cut short again. The blue eyes had to be colored contacts but it was a little strange to see on Natasha's familiar face. She was almost unrecognizable. The woman smiled almost uncertainly at Darcy, gripping a large duffle bag. "Miss me?"

Darcy linked their hands and pulled her inside. "Tell me everything." She demanded.

"Tony says 'thanks for Friday'." Natasha replied in relief, tension in her shoulders bleeding away.

The door slid closed behind her.

THE END

Well, that's it. I can't believe it. My first ever finished fanfiction. Thank you all so much for all your views and comments. I hope you have all enjoyed the ride. I might work on something else taking place in this 'universe' later but for now...Thank you and Goodnight!