Chapter 20

The trees howled as the jet hovered above them, about to land. Leaves blew from the branches and flew in loopdy-loops through the air until the engine roared and the jet came to a halt in the middle of the grass, only a few meters away from the Waco S.H.I.E.L.D facility.

The building was like most of the division's facilities. It was large and dull and had the big S.H.I.E.L.D logo plastered above the front entrance in silver, but unlike most of their facilities, it was seemingly isolated from the rest of its surroundings. Whether this was done intentionally or unintentionally, it seemed to keep the "low-profile" concept at a steady rate because neither Steve or Natasha nor the rest of the Avengers had known a facility in Waco existed until roughly a week ago.

Once Natasha had landed the jet, and Steve felt it come to a definite stop, he stood up quickly from his seat as a co-pilot and inhaled sharply through his teeth at the movement. Although he could walk on his own now, he still felt sore all throughout his limbs especially after hours of inactivity.

Natasha reached up tenderly and touched his forearm. "Don't strain yourself," she said calmly before rising to her feet and standing next to him, "You're one forced movement away from being a super-serum Humpty Dumpty."

Steve exhaled, "Noted." A discrete smile formed on his lips and he didn't even try to hide it. Natasha knew when to pick her moments to joke around and while it wasn't the perfect time, there was a sense of lightness in her tone despite her joke being a warning for him to be careful. It was almost soothing in a way that made him feel better about, like she said, being a forced movement away from a Humpty Dumpty.

Natasha leaned back and flipped a lever at the control panel. The backdrop lowered open, and they both sighed in perfect unison – which only added to the unexpected lightheartedness Steve felt. She placed her hand on his back, and Natasha helped guide him out into the open.

They had left the hospital early that morning, hoping to get to the facility as quickly as possible. They and Dee had said their goodbyes, and she wished the two of them the best of luck and reminded them of something important. "Sometimes you have to save yourselves before you can save the world," she said. Poetic. Natasha thought she'd make great fortune-cookies one day.

As they walked through the entrance to the building, Steve caught eyes with Maria, who sprung up from her desk across the room after chewing her thumb and rushed calmly over to greet them. She hugged Natasha, not in way of 'I never thought I'd see you again,' but more in a way of 'thank goodness you made it back whole this time.'

Maria turned to embrace Steve after exchanging a relieved smile with Nat, but found herself distracted by the fact that it had only been two and a half days since the shooting and Steve was already standing perfectly on his feet.

She awed, "I see you're back in one piece."

"You'd be surprised how often I hear that." Steve remarked, pulling her in for the hug he'd missed out on a few seconds before.

Maria patted his back and pulled away after their short embrace. "Actually, I wouldn't. You're Steve. You're like a cat – nine lives and all."

Natasha rubbed Steve shoulder teasingly, "and he's already blown through ninety-nine percent of them."

Maria looked at him challengingly, "You think you can make it through the rest of this shit-show without losing any more?"

"I don't know," Natasha said for him and whispered in addition, "We may need a new cat."

That earned a laugh from Maria. "Let's save the Avengers from the floating-prison, then we'll get a new cat." She gestured for them to follow her, and they began walking and talking in her lead.

"So they are at the Supermax?" Steve questioned for confirmation.

"Yep. For a guy who gets paid by the government to be unpredictable, he's pretty predictable."

"Ross?" Natasha guessed.

"Yes, and everyone he works for and everyone who works for him; all predictable. Although I'll admit, the Sokovia Accords were a bit of a curveball, at least for everyone at S.H.I.E.L.D." Maria looked over her shoulder to meet Natasha's eyes.

"And everywhere else," Natasha furrowed her brows.

Maria faced back forward and sighed, shaking her head, "Not everywhere..." her voice trailed softly.

Steve was curious what she meant by that and wanted to raise questions about it, and he could sense Natasha did as well, but he saw his opportunity to switch up the subject and he took it. "You do have our stuff, right?" He asked, raising his eyebrows as their short walk came to a stop at a steel door.

"We don't have all the same stuff," Maria confessed, "But they're similar. Steve, we have your S.T.R.I.K.E stealth-suit from way back when. It better fits this type of mission, anyways. Nat, we have your catsuit – or one of them, at least. And we've always got gear and weaponry lying around these facilities."

Steve's eyes found the floor before traveling back up to meet Maria's. He looked at her sincerely. "Maria, I can't thank you enough for all of this."

She said nothing at first, but a grin gradually formed across her lips and she placed her hand on the door handle – "Don't thank me." She twisted the handle down and pushed effortlessly on the shiny metal surface.

Natasha and Steve exchanged a look of confusion and curiosity, and then the door was wide open to reveal a familiar face. Maria stepped out of the way. "Thank him."

Natasha's jaw almost dropped. "Nick?"

Nick Fury, of all people, sat at an empty table in a black wheely chair with a satisfied expression plastered across his face. He raised his chin, almost in a dominant manner, and he tilted his head in a way that Steve could only compare to as a confused puppy.

Nick snorted with amusement, "Are you guys ever not in some form of trouble?"

Steve and Natasha looked at Maria in unison as their polite way of demanding answers. Maria caught on.

"The message you sent went to his system too." She explained.

Natasha shook her head, perplexed, "I sent it to you."

"You sent it to both of us." Fury said, ending the argument. "I was in the middle of a nice nap when it came through—thanks for that."

Natasha rolled her eyes and said sarcastically, "Oh, my apologies."

"Apology not accepted. Sit down—" he nudged one of the seats across from him with his foot from underneath the table, "We've got a lot to catch up on."

Maria extended her arm out, referencing the table, and gestured for them to take a seat upon Fury's request. Now, as if the roles had switched, Steve placed his hand on Natasha's back and guided her to her chair like a gentleman. He pulled it out from underneath the table, which allowed her the room to sit down. Once she sat, he turned his heel and took the seat next to her on the left—and Maria sat down at the head of the table, which both Steve and Natasha noticed as puzzling.

Normally, since Nick was the head director, the head of the table was his place to sit at every meeting and every conference; while Maria's seat was considered to be the one directly next to him on the left at the long side of the table. Not that it mattered too much in this sense, but it just felt unnatural to see them switched in their places.

They sat in silence for a few short moments, exchanging a few glances around to see who would speak first, until Fury exhaled through his nose. "So the man's out for revenge is what I'm getting at."

Then the real conversation began.

Steve shook his head, "Not revenge. He wants to finish what he started."

Fury raised his brows, "And imprisoning the other Avengers is going to get him there?"

"It gives him leverage. He knows that we'll come for them—just like we did all the times before, and we barely made it out in one piece last time."

"And he knows your injured," Maria reminded Steve, "So he'll use that to his advantage. If the force they used alone last time was enough to take out Captain America—double it; triple it?—imagine the damage he could get away with."

"But he thinks we'll be going at it alone." Natasha suggested, "If we had S.H.I.E.L.D's help..."

"You don't think he'd suspect that?" Maria said with her brows raised to sharp arches.

Natasha almost laughed, "I think he's so caught up in establishing dominance it won't even cross his mind."

"You'd still be outnumbered." Fury pointed out.

"But our agents are twice as skilled in every aspect of fieldwork—you know that." She argued. "And as far as Ross is concerned, S.H.I.E.L.D died with Project Insight two years ago in Washington D.C. He won't suspect it."

Maria considered it. She bit her lip, "How many would you need?"

Nat leaned back in her seat..."As many as you'll allow us."

"We'll need your best," Steve insisted, "The highest ranking agents S.H.I.E.L.D has to offer."

Maria looked at him. "I'm not sure you—"

"Done."

All eyes fell on Nick. Done? Steve thought... that was quick.

Fury exhaled, and began his spiel. "This man waltzes in after Lagos, gives you minimal credit for everything you've done since New York, forces some whack-ass accords onto your plates and claims he has the power to disassemble the Earth's Mightiest Heroes upon refusal to comply." He shook his head in disapproval. "No. I'm the only guy around here who gets to do that. He wants to hit us with that kind of force? Hit him back twice as hard."

Steve and Natasha looked at each other, and then back at Nick.

He continued, "This ends now... Take all the agents and supplies you want—take back the Avengers"

End monologue.

It was powerful. And he was right. Ross needed to be knocked off his high-horse and put in his place. And the Avengers needed to be saved. The only way they would accomplish either of those things was if they acted now. Fury just happened to know exactly how to push them there.

Steve nodded, and felt something genuine in his heart. "Thank you."

Fury returned the nod.

"Now," he began, changing up the subject, "If we're done with that... I'd like to discuss the changes I've had made to your gear."

"Changes?" Natasha quirked her brow.

"Updates, really. Oh—and speaking of gear," he turned to Steve, "I've got something special for you."

Steve crossed his arms. He was expecting it to be some practical joke; nothing really special or anything that would be of actual value. Fury's played that card before. Once on Steve's birthday, S.H.I.E.L.D threw him a small party—nothing too outgoing (but it was special to him)—and everyone who attended gave him a nice gift or a well thought-out card. Fury, on the other hand, gave a whole long-winded introduction before letting Steve open his gift from him, said it would be the best and most important gift he'd ever received, Steve opened the large box, took out all the dozens of layers of stuffing paper... and the gift was LifeAlert.

So his expectations weren't too high this time around.

Fury bent down behind a set of cabinets and began dragging something from around the corner. "You can thank me later..."

When he turned around, Steve had to refrain from bouncing off the walls. In Nick's hands lied Captain America's signature piece of gear and was worth more than any "sentimental" gift Fury could offer him.

It was his shield.

Nick smirked, "Or now—whichever feel is most fitting."

"You're kidding!!" Steve awed, his expression beaming with excitement. Natasha hadn't seen him smile like that in what felt like years.

"Take it." Fury insisted and tossed the shield over to him. Steve caught it perfectly and turned it up right to admire it, smoothing his hand over its shiny surface.

Natasha looked to Nick, with a smile wide on her face also, and raised the question, "How did you get it?"

"Stark left it on my doorstep." He said, "Not literally, but you get it. Said that he didn't know what else to do with it, nor did he want anything to do with it, and insisted that I hand it back over to you seeing as though I probably had contact with you—which I did not, at the time, but the man's damn good at predicting the future."

Steve looked at him with hesitant eyes. Hearing the story almost made him feel sorry for accepting his shield back so easily.

"It's yours. He knows that. No matter what he may have said." Fury reminded him sincerely. He placed a hand on Steve's shoulder. "And it's safer in your hands than in his."

Steve lowered his eyes to the shield, staring back at his faint reflection in it. "Wow," he remarked with a sigh, "I'll have to thank him."

Natasha uncrossed her right arm from her chest to stroke the shield. She smiled sadly. "I guess he's letting go of his grudge." And she meant "he" as in Tony.

He returned the broken smile. All that fighting over the Accords and their political beliefs and Steve was convinced that Tony hated him horribly, and would always hate him. Now it seemed as though, with baby steps beginning with the small gesture of returning his shield, they were finally starting to come to good terms with one another. That gave him hope. "I guess so."

He turned the shield over to examine the backside and noticed a small black feature just above the magnet. It was a tiny rectangular icon with a screen, but Steve couldn't tell what it was.

"What's this?" He asked.

"An update. Romanoff, you've got one on your Widow's Bites, too." Fury said, grabbing her gloves and tossing them to her.

Natasha almost rolled her eyes. "Yeah, but what is it?"

"Your access to more help." Maria answered. "The icons are fingerprint-recognizable, so it will only send signals back to our systems for us to send help if you're the one pressing it."

"Sounds fancy."

"Yeah, well, this way there are no accidental requests for help—not that it's likely or possible to send 'accidental' requests for backup, but nowadays with missions like these, you can be too careful. Now I know you want the best of the best, but I'd still like to keep the number of agents fighting at a minimal unless they're seriously needed otherwise."

"We can work with that," Steve agreed. "Thank you."

"Anytime." Fury nodded with a smile. Not a 'you owe me big time' smile, but a genuine, 'you didn't even have to ask' kind of smile. He cleared his throat. "Well... if you'd like to get to the Supermax by nightfall, which I'm assuming you do, then I suggest you go suit up."

~

They were in full uniform for the first time in forever. An hour had passed, and they'd kind of split off to go their separate ways while Maria gathered the other agents and got them to suit up and collect their gear. Now, as they were about to load themselves onto the jet any minute now, they all stood in the main entrance hallway waiting for Fury or Maria's cue.

Natasha sat on top of a supply box that they wouldn't be needing, away from the herd of bodies in black. She'd been thinking a lot the past hour. Not specifically about Ross and the Avengers, but about herself. Her choices. What she wanted to do after the issue was resolved.

Her usual deep conversationalist was nowhere to be found in that hour time frame, but now that they were all in the same vicinity, he spotted her sitting in isolation before she spotted him walking over to fix it.

Steve sensed she was upset. There was just a look in her eyes that gave it away, even from afar. And he knew her too well to think otherwise. He approached her and waited to see if she would speak to him. No words came out. Instead, she looked up at him and half-smiled—fake smiled.

He exhaled and pulled another empty bin they'd used to store supplies before and dragged it in front of her. He flipped in upside down so he'd have a flat surface to sit on top of, and he plopped himself gently onto the bin.

She didn't even make eye contact with him.

But he knew she wanted to.

He sighed. "What's going on inside your head?"

Natasha looked at him and fake smiled again, raising her eyebrows. "That's a loaded question," she laughed sadly through her nose.

Steve's expression remained serious. He hadn't been born yesterday. He knew when Natasha was lying to him, especially when it was about her being upset, and he wasn't going to budge until he got an explanation out of her.

Natasha knew this all too well and she looked away, almost embarrassed, and sighed. "I'm tired," she confessed.

"Of?" He asked, leaning back.

"Just tired." She said, shaking her head and curling her lips. "Tired of running; tired of Ross... tired of Avenging."

He lowered his eyes. "You don't want to be an Avenger anymore." Quite frankly, he'd felt the same way for a while now. He wondered how long she'd felt it.

"I don't want to live my life as though it were constantly on the line anymore." She elaborated, "I want to settle. I want to move on and... and turn a few pages—I don't know."

"Why don't you?" He'd been asking himself that question lately too. Only now was he coming to realize that the only thing keeping him from moving on was that Natasha was still entitled to her work. He figured she'd want to stay doing what she did every day. And now that wasn't the case.

She paused—not because she had to think about the answer, but because she was almost afraid to say it out loud. "Because the sad thing is, I don't know how to. And neither do you. And neither do any of the other goddamn superheroes who are just doing their jobs."

Steve exhaled. "It'd be nice if we did, though."

"It'd be surreal is what it'd be."

Steve didn't want to see her drowning in her hopes this way. They'd been through hell together and they'd plan to get through this together as well, but he couldn't sit there knowing how she felt and just let her come along for the ride. She deserved better than that. She needed better.

"You know," he trailed, "You can start learning to now. You can try to move on. This is my fight, really—it's not yours."

Natasha's face twisted. "Bullshit. This became our fight the minute I went looking for you after Germany."

"But you didn't have to do that. And you don't have to fight this fight either. Nat I just want to keep you safe. I got us into this mess—"

"No, we got ourselves into this mess. We let the accords get the best of us, that's not your fault. Stop trying to take all the blame because believe it or not—sometimes we all have to share it. This fight over the accords?—it was inevitable. We were all different people with different political standpoints and different plans and we couldn't save ourselves any more than we could've saved the lives in Lagos. Now I abandoned you once; I'm not doing it again. I'm staying. And I'm gonna fight. And then I'll begin my tragic attempts to move on and start new." She said seriously, never once breaking eye contact with him.

And for once, he didn't object.

"Okay." He responded softly. Natasha looked at him as if she were shocked that he didn't try to argue with her. He nodded sadly. "I pushed you away once. Never again." He mimicked, only it wasn't mockery. He meant it every bit as much as she did.

"And I pushed you away..." she added on. Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes and she blinked them away, shaking her head in disappointment. "God, what's wrong with us?"

Steve pursed his lips and half-laughed, "I think it might have something to do with the fact that we don't really know how to do anything other than save the world and kick ass."

She paused. "Do you think we could? Move on? Start new?"

He sighed, and he considered it—really considered it. Could there ever be a lifetime where Steve Rogers was just Steve Rogers? Would he ever live to see the day where he didn't have to read headlines in the newspapers featuring him as Captain America? Would Natasha ever be just Natasha?

"I don't know," he answered truthfully and met her eyes, "But I really want to find out."

"Me too." She admitted.

There was a pause. So they both wanted to move on and start a life without their titles of Captain America and Black Widow. So what? What good was there in wishing for it if they had no plan to achieve it?

Steve poked her kneecap to regain her attention. "Tell you what," he suggested, "When all of this is over? When the Avengers and the both of us are freed? We'll learn together. And if it turns out that starting over just isn't gonna work for people like us... well then, we'll have each other to bitch about it to."

That earned a laugh and an eye roll from her. "You make a compelling argument."

He smiled, and he covered her knee with his hand, "Deal?" He asked. Natasha looked down, exhaled with a slight chuckle, and placed her hand on top of his.

"Deal."