"Why did Tony tell you he was dying?"

(The 'and not me' is unstated, but Natasha can hear it clearly anyway.)

Pepper may have had a little more to drink this evening than usual, but the question has a feeling of dull inevitability about it, like they've been circling the subject of her time at SI for months.

This answer, at least, isn't too bad.

"He didn't. I managed to find out about that while I was investigating him."

"Why were you looking into him?"

She hesitates for a moment.

(The answer to this is technically classified, but she's fairly sure that Pepper has the clearance necessary.)

(Fairly.)

"Believe it or not, SHIELD was looking into recruiting him," she answers anyway.

"That didn't happen, though. Did it?" and there is probably more of a question there than Pepper intends.

"No." Romanoff smiles a little and adds, "The evaluation stated that he wasn't enough of a team player."

Pepper snorts. "That's not a surprise. In the slightest."

(Natasha could just leave it there, but she can't help prying. Just a little.)

"Wouldn't you have known if he'd joined up with SHIELD?"

(Wouldn't he have told you?)

Pepper looks down at her drink for a moment. (And Natasha almost regrets having asked her.) "I'd like to say yes, he would have told me, but..." she shrugs. "After facing the fact that he quite possibly would have died before telling me anything was wrong, it's a little hard to know."

"I thought that everything was fine between you two?"

"It is, most of the time. When I'm with him, everything's wonderful," she says, and her face lights up just in recollection. But then her smile dims again. "It's just, sometimes..." She waves her hand in frustration. "You know what? Just forget it."

(Natasha could.)

(She probably *should*.)

(But after all these months of getting to know Pepper - and she's not even sure when she *became* Pepper, even internally - there's one question that she doesn't have a good answer to.)

(And if there's ever going to be a night to ask it, it's this one, with its air already heavy with questions never spoken.)

"Why did you step down as CEO of Stark International?" Romanoff asks softly.

Pepper looks like she's been punched, just for a second. Then the shock fades, and she just looks quietly miserable.

Romanoff (Natasha) can't help reaching across the table to lay her hand over Pepper's.

(It isn't much, but she doesn't know what else to do.)

"The company was falling apart. I tried my best to hold it together, but..." she shrugs. "It needed Tony." She looks up at Romanoff. "You should know. You were there. You told me," she smiles a little bitterly. "What the situation was."

((I...))

((I...))

((*Me*?))

(Natasha feels an unfamiliar sickness in her stomach. She tries searching back in her memory, but all she can remember is having faith in Pepper.)

"I always thought you could do it," is all she can say, quietly, fiercely.

Pepper looks stunned. "But when I asked how you thought I was running the company, you only came up with problems."

(The sensation of feeling ill only gets stronger. She hadn't meant to...)

"I never thought you couldn't solve them," she says, throat dry. "You'd already cleared many of the bigger ones. I was just identifying the ones that remained."

Pepper is looking at her with a pale face, eyes shining. "I thought you didn't think I could do it. I thought that was why you were going behind my back, strongarming people."

"I was just doing what I could to help," she says. "I can't motivate people positively, but I can spot problems, apply pressure."

"Oh," Pepper says. "Oh."

"For what it's worth, you'd make a much better CEO than he does, once you were past the initial problems."

"Thanks. I'm not sure anyone else would agree with you, but it's nice to know that someone believes in me as a leader."

Romanoff shrugs. "If you'd not be happy in that position, that's one thing. But you're certainly not unable."

There's a pause while Pepper can't quite meet Romanoff's eyes as she struggles to regain her composure, and Romanoff looks away, letting her, mind whirling inwards.

(Why hadn't she known Pepper felt like this? Natasha asks herself. How had she missed this?)

(It's what she does - find weaknesses in people.)

(But she'd missed this, had it pass her by completely.)

(What had happened?)

(It takes her a few minutes to analyse the problem, find the solution.)

(She hadn't been looking.)

(She hadn't been treating Pepper as someone to exploit, manipulate.)

(And she really should have been - Pepper had been, after all, a secondary target.)

(But all along, somehow, somewhere in the back of Natasha's mind, she'd been treating her as an unsettling amalgam of fellow operative and handler, with the negative aspects of neither.)

(Maybe this is what having a friend feels like.)

(If so, it feels distinctly odd.)

(For a start, it feels.)

Pepper clears her throat, and Romanoff turns her attention back towards her. "Well, if the opportunity comes up again, I'll certainly bear that in mind," she says, smiling a little weakly.

(Natasha is suddenly aware that she is still covering Pepper's hand with her own, and reclaims it.)

"You need to stretch yourself," she says.

Pepper looks amused. "You don't think that keeping Stark International running doesn't take all of my talent? Even with Tony's help?"

(Or despite it, Natasha can't help thinking.)

"Maybe, but I think you're capable of more. And that you've stayed in Stark's shadow too long."

"I'll think on it. But no promises."

(Good. If nothing else, Stark could use a wakeup call that he can't just keep taking Pepper for granted.)

"I'm sorry," Pepper says over the phone. "I'm just really not feeling up to going out tonight."

"No problem." Natasha is a little disappointed - she'll be leaving the country for an operation in a few days, and there probably won't be another chance to meet up before then - but only a little. There will always be other opportunities.

"I wouldn't be averse to you coming over to my apartment for the evening, though. If you wanted to."

"Sure. Do you want me to bring anything?"

"Dinner would be *divine* if you could manage it."

"I think I've managed to conduct a thorough enough investigation of the local take out places to find *something*," she says drily.

"Oh good. Just like old times," and Natasha can tell that she's smiling, even over the phone. "I'll leave my culinary delight in your capable hands then."

Pepper is dressed down when she answers the door. Gone is her usual suit. Instead, she's wearing a t-shirt and jeans, makeup slightly mussed and looking relaxed, like she's had a glass or two of wine already.

"Hey. Smells good."

"Even though I haven't had to order you food for several months, I've apparently managed to not completely forget what kinds of things you like."

Pepper swats at her arm. "Oh hush. Tony's only done that once recently."

"Have you forgiven him yet?"

"Forgiveness is an essential part of any relationship," Pepper says piously.

"When are you planning on letting him live it down?"

She grins. "Pretty much never. Though, whenever the subject comes up, he does very woundedly point out that at least he remembered our six month anniversary. Even if he managed to surprise me with completely the wrong food."

"If only he'd asked JARVIS to remember that as well as the date."

"You are *so* cynical."

"Occupational hazard."

Leading her through the apartment, Pepper gestures at the living room. "Sit down there while I put everything on plates."

"We're not using the dining table?"

"Today has been a long, long day, and I'm feeling *decadent.*"

"What *would* your parents say?" Romanoff asks, as Pepper disappears off into the kitchen.

"I'm sure they'd be horrified, but they're not here, and my bottle of wine is," drifts her voice from the other room.

"How much of it do you still have left?"

"Entirely too much," Pepper says, coming back into the room bearing plates. "Care to help me remedy that?"

Romanoff shrugs. "Sure."

Pepper places the food in front of her, then curls up on the sofa next to her, plate balanced on her lap, glass of wine on a sidetable.

"So what were you doing today that left you so tired?"

"I was *supposed* to be helping Phil with some SHIELD related projects, but partway through the day," she says, rolling her eyes a little, "I had to get out to a Stark facility to put out some fires that apparently couldn't wait until tomorrow."

"I'm guessing this meant that you didn't have time to finish what you wanted to do before you left."

Pepper takes a healthy sip of wine, and nods. "Exactly. So after I'd dealt with the corporate matter, I had to get back to SHIELD and finish that too."

(When Natasha had suggested that Pepper stretch herself a little, she hadn't exactly expected a part time recruitment by SHIELD.)

(She doesn't know what Pepper does and she doesn't ask - professional courtesy - but she does have to admit that it makes her feel... maybe slightly more relaxed that Pepper is involved in the organisation she works for.)

"And hence the evening in and the relaxing."

Pepper replaces the glass on the table, secures the plate on her lap, and leans her head briefly against Romanoff's shoulder. "I'm glad you understand," she murmurs, then sits up again.

The meal and then the evening passes easily. Romanoff only has a minimal amount of wine, but Pepper progressively gets happier and more relaxed, more affectionate.

And there's a moment, a moment when Pepper is leaning against her, Pepper's right arm curled around Romanoff's left, when Pepper looks up at her, smiles and murmurs, "I'm so glad that I have you in my life."

((I want this.))

((I want her, and not just as a friend.))

(Natasha immediately goes into overdrive, as her chest feels tight.)

(This is stupid, she thinks.)

(It's a vulnerability.)

(It's something that can hurt her.)

(It's something that *will* hurt her.)

(And it's *pointless*. So very pointless.)

(Pepper always talks about Stark, fondly, even when it's fond exasperation.)

(And she can't do this.)

(She can't.)

(She just can't.)

(It's just a stupid, flawed part of herself.)

(And she can bury it, like she's done to every other weakness within her.)

(She's Natasha Romanoff, and she's *perfect*.)

(But she can't do it here.)

(Not here and not now.)

(She has to leave.)

(She has to leave *now*.)

"Sorry," Natasha says, unable to maintain Romanoff, sliding out from underneath Pepper. "I have to leave now."

"Oh," Pepper looks disappointedly up at her from the sofa cushion.

((It hurts, to do that to her.))

(The tight feeling returns, intensifies.)

"Do you want me to see you out?" Pepper asks.

"That's alright," Natasha says, already heading for the doorway without trying to look as though she's moving too quickly.

That's quite alright.

"I'll see you around," she says as she disappears through the door.

She's most of the way home before she changes direction.

Maybe, Natasha thinks, being alone at the moment isn't the best idea.

And Clint *is* in town.

And her relationship with *him* is sane - clean, simple, uncomplicated.

He's a colleague, and they understand each other.

Basically, he's just what she needs.

"Natasha," he says, leaning against one wall as he opens the door.

She sways past him into the apartment, then turns around and trails her fingers down the back of the arm he's leaning on, the hand that's holding a concealed pistol.

"Don't you trust me?" she whispers into his year.

He turns around and grins at her, lopsided. "Now where would the fun in that be?" he asks. "I thought you were busy tonight?"

"I freed up some time in my schedule," she says huskily, then leans to kiss him.

Hard.

Clean. Cool. Free of any inconvenient emotion.

"Let's not waste it talking," she murmurs, and leans in again.

The sex is... different.

It's not a release.

It feels... wrong.

It's like the taste of ashes.

In the end, she has to resurrect someone from the graveyard to make it all the way through.

Afterwards, laying side by side, Clint props himself up on one arm, studying her.

"Is everything alright?"

She can't help reacting, rising to a semi-sitting position. "No," she says. "Why?"

He shrugs. "You just seemed a little intense."

That's one way of putting it.

But she has no context, no language for saying 'Maybe I didn't actually want to do this.'

And absolutely no way to even start to tell Clint this.

He's one of the two people she trusts most in the world, but at the end of the day...

This is a weakness, a flaw, a fracture, and she *can't* reveal it to anyone else.

Not even him.

So she does the only thing she can think to do in this situation.

"Maybe I'm just in the mood for another round before we ship out," she says, rolling over, pinning him underneath her.

Maybe the sex will be better this time.

Maybe this time everything will be alright.

It isn't.

She flies to Russia.

Then the world goes mad.

More space gods turn up, Clint is suborned and the ultimate energy source is taken,

And the only way to stop things spiralling even further out of control seems to be to concentrate as much insanity in one place as possible.

The Avenger Protocol.

Loki is captured, but not really.

The Helicarrier is attacked.

And by the time Natasha has a chance to catch her breath after *any* of this, she's managed to retrieve Clint and lose Coulson.

And the thing is, the *bitterly ironic* thing is that she's fairly sure the only reason she managed to fool Loki is because the last time she was with Clint, she really wasn't feeling it.

Which he apparently took to mean that she really was, because that must be what he told Loki.

Whoever knew he was that much of a romantic?

And now she's faced with a situation that she has in no way been trained for.

She's not a supersoldier.

She hasn't got a suit of power armour.

She's not a god.

In all honesty, she's probably going to die.

And, in some ways, that might almost be a relief.

But she's Natasha Romanoff, and she's not going to meet her end easily.

If she's going to go down fighting, she's going to sell her life as dearly as possible.

She's faced death before, if not quite these odds, but this time there's something different.

This time, there's someone she needs to call.

She takes out her phone and dials Pepper's number.

"Hello?" Pepper says, in her work voice.

"Pepper, where are you?"

"Currently? Flying to D.C."

There's something like relief that unknots itself from around her.

Good.

She's not in New York.

"I just wanted to say that things are getting dangerous, and there's a chance that I might not make it."

There's a gasp from the phone. "What's going on?"

"I can't say. But," after her complaints about Stark, "I just thought that you'd want to know."

And she trusts that Pepper can handle it.

Pepper takes a deep breath, let's it out slowly. "Thanks. I do. And... good luck."

"Thanks. And see you again."

"See you again," Pepper repeats softly, and Natasha can almost see her smile.

It's over.

It's hard to believe, but it's over.

She's still alive.

And she helped make them pay.

She's tired, bone tired, but before anything else, before even the schwarma that Stark promised, there's something else she has to do.

She gets out her phone and texts Pepper.

'It's over. And I'm fine.'

There's a phone ringing.

It's in her hand and she's answering it before she's even really awake.

She doesn't say anything, though, just waits.

It's instinct to let the other person make the first mistake.

"Natasha?" asks a voice so familiar it cuts through the haze.

"Pepper?" she confirms, unable to keep a smile from her face.

She's still sleepy.

She's still alive.

It doesn't mean anything.

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I? Because I can phone back another time if you're busy."

Her body aches.

She hasn't had nearly enough sleep to recover, physically, mentally, emotionally.

But she is still alive.

And she's been given the next few days off, courtesy of Fury.

"I'm not busy."

"It's just..." and Pepper gives a growl of frustration. "Can we meet up to talk? I really need to talk to someone right now."

There's a problem with this. But she can't remember what it is right now.

"Sure. The coffee shop?"

"Okay." There's a slight pause. "On the other hand, I may have to be loud. In fact, I'm definitely feeling the need to be loud."

"So, not the coffee shop?"

"Not the coffee shop. Could you come over?"

"I'll see you in a few minutes."

Pepper meets her at the door and words immediately start escaping from her, as though she can't keep them contained any longer.

"I can't believe him! Not only does he not tell me that he's in imminent peril - again! - but even when he does phone me, he doesn't say a thing! And I'd have probably never known any of this if it hadn't been on the news!" she says, angry and glorious in the doorway.

Pepper takes a breath, and looks at Natasha. "I'm not being unreasonable, am I? Tell me I'm not being unreasonable, wanting to know when my boyfriend is putting himself in harm's way. It's not like I'm some wilting flower! I'm not going to stop him!"

"But I do want to know. I don't want to be the woman who has to be protected even from that much."

"Gah!" she yells to the ceiling, panting for a second or two.

"I'm not going to be that woman," she says decisively. "And, really, he should know me better by now. He really, really should. After all, you know me better after far less time and I'm not even going out with you!"

Pepper shuts her eyes and takes a few deep breaths before opening them again.

"And here ends my Tony Stark related rant for the moment, though transmission may be resumed later. How are you, Natasha? It's nice to see you," she says, stepping forward and hugging Natasha around the middle.

Natasha can't help stiffening slightly under the contact, forcibly reminded of some of the contusions and abrasions she'd taken over the last few days. She doesn't move much, but apparently it's enough for Pepper to pull back and look her in the face.

"You are alright, aren't you?" she asks, concern lacing her voice.

Natasha gives her a slight smile. "A few bruises and scrapes. Nothing much."

"Nothing else?"

"Really."

Pepper's face crumples a little, and she buries it in the area between Natasha's shoulder and neck. "Good," she says, her voice a little muffled. "I'm so glad. When I saw the reports, I couldn't help thinking that you were involved, and I was so worried."

Pepper pulls away again, sniffling a little, eyes shiny. "I'm sorry. I'm really not that woman. But between worrying about both of you, and the anger..." She sniffles again.

Natasha is tired and worn through and Pepper is so beautiful and open in a way that she can't even imagine being, that...

((I lean forward and kiss her.))

((She stands there, frozen, and I can't help but continue, because it's consuming and dizzying and pulls me deeper and deeper.))

((So deep that she makes me forget.))

((For a moment.))

((And then I realise, then it comes to me.))

((This is *me* kissing her.))

((Not Natasha.))

((Not Natalie.))

((Not any of the other personalities I construct and live my life through.))

((And me, actually doing something, is the one thing I can't, shouldn't, ever do.))

((And so I go, run, disappear, leaving Pepper there in my wake.))

((It's all I can do.))

This is what I've tried to forget.

This is the thing that I can't let myself remember.

That I exist, not just Natasha.

Because that was the first lesson I was taught.

*I* can be hurt, the things that *I* do, the thoughts that *I* have are weaknesses, flaws, fractures.

Only Natasha is perfect.

Only in Natasha am I safe.

And now?

Now I have left myself exposed, naked, vulnerable.

And I can't stop until I'm safe.

Before I know it, I'm in *her* apartment, surrounded by *her* things.

And I begin to see the problem.

Natasha has nothing.

Natasha *needs* nothing.

Just tools.

And, now, I can't help seeing the threads of my personality, my weaknesses, running through the objects around me.

And, really, Natasha only has one response to weaknesses.

I take a breath, try to calm myself as much as I can, and do my best to disappear.

And Natasha picks up a chair, with hands that are shaking only slightly, and efficiently dismantles it against the wall.

Her apartment has been almost completely reduced when there's a knocking at the door.

It's rhythmic - not Clint, then.

Luckily, she hasn't touched the wall monitor - that is strictly a tool. after all.

She draws a pistol and turns the monitor on.

It's Pepper - no, Potts - standing in front of her door.

And suddenly Natasha can feel something rising inside herself like a scream.

She ((I)) can't go out there, face Potts.

Not now.

Luckily, she always has other exits.

She attaches a line to a hook on the wall, opens a window - not on the same side as the fire escape - and slips out and rappels down the side of the building.

"I didn't actually think that you'd come out a window rather than speak to Pepper," comes Clint's - no, Barton's - voice from out of the darkness, pitched to carry. "I guess I was wrong."

Natasha looks up, manages to locate a slightly oddly shaped patch of darkness.

"I did wonder how she found my apartment," Natasha says as she walks away slowly, trying to minimise her exposure to Barton. "Not to mention how she got past the front door without buzzing me."

Barton slips down the side of the building he's perched on using a line of his own and walks towards her. "What's wrong, Natasha?" he asks, sounding like he's concerned.

Sounding like he's trying to prey on her weakness.

Her hand slips to her pistol. "Is this a job, Barton?" she asks coldly. "Are you my handler now?"

Barton freezes, doesn't approach any closer. "I'm just being your friend."

"I don't have any friends," she tells him. "Don't follow me again. Unless it's official."

She walks off into the darkness.

Barton doesn't try and follow her.

SHIELD has various places to stay in most cities for travelling agents. They're not particularly comfortable, but they are secure. And it would be... inefficient for Natasha to go somewhere else, at least for tonight.

Barton should have got the message and, even if he didn't, it wouldn't be easy for him to find exactly which place she was staying before she leaves in the morning.

She spends an hour repairing the walls inside herself, sealing any weaknesses as far beneath the surface as she can.

She can do this.

It was only bad habits, sloppy living, engendered by working at SHIELD which allowed her flaws to surface in the first place.

She's not going to let it happen again.

Ever.

Still, she needs rest. The past few days have been wearying, and exhaustion leads to error.

She closes her eyes, and goes to sleep. Lightly.

Which is why movement in the corridor outside wakes her.

It's not Barton - he'd be quieter, even if he wasn't trying to be.

Just one person.

The footsteps stop outside her doorway, clearly silhouetted by the lights in the hallway.

There's a gentle knocking at the door.

It can't be a professional - if they were good enough to get in here, they wouldn't have woken her.

In which case, it has to be someone from SHIELD. They're the only people with the codes to this place.

Fine.

Her duty is clear.

Moving up to the doorway, hiding a pistol around the corner of the frame, just in case, she opens the door.

It's Potts.

It's Pepper.

Natasha has just enough time to realise that it's entirely possible Pepper has been just a little bit *too* efficient in her organisation of SHIELD affairs...

Before, with a feeling like that of collapsing masonry...

I realise I can't do this any more.

"What do you want?" I whisper.

She's looking tired herself, pale, shaky. "I was hoping that we could talk about that kiss earlier," she says, giving an imitation of a smile.

There's a clattering noise, and I realise that I've dropped my pistol.

I really am weak.

But, at the moment, I can't bring myself to care.

Pepper jumps at the sound, looks down, tilts her head, then goes a little paler.

"Sorry," I say. "I'm in the habit of being careful."

I don't add, apart from around you, it seems.

"Want to come in?" I ask, and she nods and follows me into the room.

"What was wrong earlier?" she asks once we're seated.

I close my eyes.

In the darkness, I can pretend that I'm alone, that I'm not revealing anything that can be used against me.

That this is just inside my head.

And I slowly try to explain to Pepper what I was taught.

That thinking of myself as anything other than an asset was unacceptable.

That feeling anything, *anything* was a weakness.

I open my eyes to see Pepper, wet trails running down her face.

"And you make me feel," I finish, my throat feeling rough, painful. "I'm sorry for kissing you. It was... it was really *stupid*. Not to mention disrespectful."

"I have had better declarations of interest," she says, then gives a half laugh. "Though possibly not recently."

I couldn't bring myself to laugh with her, but I could give her a smile.

Pepper's face regains some colour. "It *was* a very good kiss, though."

I raise my eyebrows at her. "Thank you?"

She looks down. "There were some things I realised as I was going out of my mind trying to find you. That I like Tony. I even love him. But I don't think that I can be in a relationship with him anymore. And when I asked myself who I would choose between the two of you, I kept on coming back to you."

It's my turn to look down. "I... don't know what to say." It's more than I ever thought. More than I ever believed could happen. "I'm not going to be simple. I'm not going to be easy." I laugh a little. "And if you want someone who is going to be honest and open with you all the time, you're really looking at the wrong person."

She looks up, smiles and reaches toward me with one hand. I manage not to flinch. I even manage to meet her fingers with my own.

"I do know this. God, after listening to you this evening, I *really* know this. But, even if you don't want to do this, I hope you realise that I'm going to be here to help you, support you, in any way I can. And the thing I *do* know about you, the thing I've come to discover over the course of our friendship, is that you do try."

Tomorrow, Natasha reminds me, tomorrow I'm somehow going to have to smooth things over with Clint, preferably without revealing too much.

And, no matter what happens between Pepper and I, Stark is undoubtedly not going to react well.

But...

I grip on to her hand tight, refusing to let go. "Yes," I say, and it's my turn to smile, looking her deep in the eyes. "I will definitely try."