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His voice is the first thing she’s aware of, low and mumbled, the words sounding too far away to make any sense, yet the steady stream of dialogue is somehow also comforting. For a moment, or maybe longer, she feels almost safe.
It’s that revelation alone that jars her back into consciousness. Safe is not something she ever feels, nor ever wants to feel. Safe means the world is about to drop out from under her feet. Safe means she’s probably going to die.
She keeps her eyes closed and lets her other senses figure out where she is and what has happened. There is a pounding in her temple, and the back of her head aches like she was hit with a boulder. Her throat feels raw and scratchy.
She can feel a low vibration underneath her, can hear the sound of rushing air, and she realizes she’s in a vehicle. A seat belt is fastened around her.
She listens carefully to the voice that is coming from her left side, and feels a weight lift from her chest when she realizes it’s Steve.
And then she remembers. Everything. And almost wishes she could sink back into unconsciousness.
Steve, beside her, is talking. She thinks at first it’s to himself, until she realizes he’s talking to her.
“They didn’t see us leave,” he is saying now. “They probably won’t expect us to head back to DC, right? So that’s what we’ll do. Find a place to lay low for a while, regroup.”
So they are on the highway then, heading back to D.C. She thinks that’s probably the best plan they’re going to get at this time, but she keeps her eyes closed still and doesn’t move. She assesses the rest of her body, searching for damage. She can feel her fingers and her toes, so she knows all her limbs are functioning.
She takes a moment to gather her thoughts, once her assessment is complete, to think back to what she can recall. She remembers Steve ripping the grate out of the floor, remembers leaping into his arms without a second’s thought, holding on to him as they plunged further down into the earth. She remembers screaming — probably partly why her throat feels like it’s on fire — and then nothing.
She thinks she was probably hit by some of the debris, enough to knock her out.
She opens her eyes to look over at the man in the driver’s seat, the man who early this morning — was it really this morning? It feels like a lifetime ago — had shoved her up against a wall and glared at her while his fingers had painfully gripped her arms, every word solid evidence that he did not trust her at all.
They’ve been partners on and off for two years now, have gone on countless missions together, some just a few hours long, some lasting a couple weeks. She’s never let him down on any of those missions — not purposely anyway — has always had his back as much as she could. But he doesn’t trust her.
Not that she blames him. He shouldn’t trust her. No one should.
But yet … he saved her. He protected her. She knows without a doubt she would be dead right now without him. Or captured by Hydra. He could have left her. She would have left her. She tries not to think about what she would have done if the situation were reversed.
She frowns at him in the dark, trying to understand. He is still talking.
“We need more information,” he is saying, and his voice catches for just a split second. It wouldn’t be noticeable to most people, but she isn’t most people. She notices everything. She’s always had to. It’s the only thing that has kept her alive.
“About Hydra,” he continues. “And Project Insight. You’re going to need to help me with that, you know.”
She smiles to herself in the dark. “Pushy,” she says, letting him know she’s awake.
She almost laughs as he starts, the car jerking under his hands. It’s good there is no one else on the road. He turns to look at her, surprise evident on his face, but under the shock, he looks relieved. He also looks tired, and older than she ever remembers him looking, as if the secrets they had just uncovered had aged him immediately.
She almost — almost — feels bad for some of the old man jokes she always likes to crack.
“Welcome back,” he finally says, and he sounds like he means every word. She watches him as he takes his foot off the gas pedal, steering the car over to the shoulder.
She scowls at him in the dark. What is he doing? They can’t risk …
She opens her mouth to tell him they don’t have time to be stupid, but the words are stuck. She coughs instead, the pain in her throat exploding into shooting fire. For a second, she can’t breathe and her eyes sting.
She feels something cool being shoved into her hand and, grateful, she takes long swallows of the water, letting it soothe her aching throat.
“Should I take you to a hospital?” he asks her after a moment, and she can tell by the way that he is asking that he really, really wants to.
In any other case, it probably wouldn’t be a bad idea, but this is not any other case, and Natasha has had much worse than a bump on the head. She shakes her head and tries not to wince at the horrible pain. “No. We need to keep moving.”
“You remember what happened?” he asks, and of course he is not giving in that easily. Steve Rogers might be the most honest, genuine person she has ever met in her life — sometimes she’s still not sure how someone like him even exists — but he is also as stubborn as a mule. She thinks he sometimes plays it up just to goad her because he knows it gets under her skin, whether she admits it or not.
She makes a face at him. “We lost the game with the super computer and now S.H.I.E.L.D.’s trying to kill us. Or I guess I should say Hydra. Who’ve been using us all along. Do I pass?”
Steve sighs and nods. “Unfortunately accurate.”
“We need to keep moving,” she repeats, because he is still staring at her and they are still stopped on the side of the road and this is not good. She runs a hand through her hair, her fingers getting caught in the tangled strands, and clears her throat. She can feel the bump on the back of her head — it’s bigger than she thought it was and she makes a mental note to not let Steve touch her — but the water helped relieve some of the pain in her throat.
“They’ll be right behind us, especially in this car,” she continues, because he is still not moving. “Too distinctive. Next populated area we pass, we should stop and switch vehicles. Maybe do that two or three times to keep them off our trail.”
“I need to be sure you’re okay first,” he says, and she almost rolls her eyes. She is not a little girl who can’t take care of herself.
She answers in a different direction than she knows he is expecting. “Okay is not a word I’d use for either of us right now,” she says, and her voice comes out a lot more bitter than she meant it too. She’s usually much more in control. Tonight is a special occasion, though, and Steve is still looking at her like he wants to pick her up and rush her to a doctor.
She knows she needs to reassure him, so she adds, “But I don’t go down that easily.”
He doesn’t answer, just looks at her, and it gives her a moment to really study him. She wonders again why he did it. Why he saved a woman he doesn’t even trust.
“It must have slowed you down, hauling me out of there as dead weight,” she says, before she can even think it through. “Why’d you do it?”
His answer is instantaneous. “I need you. You’re all I’ve got right now.”
She frowns. That isn’t the answer she is expecting, and it doesn’t help her understand his motives better at all. Sure, Hydra threw them both for a loop, but she’s pretty sure he could get through this much better without her. She thinks maybe it’s just because of who he is — never leave a teammate behind, even when said teammate will just weigh you down.
“That’s sweet,” she finally says. “But I very much doubt it’s true. Think a little harder about who you can trust, because we’re going to need them on this too.”
She wishes she could offer him something in return. She feels like she should, something to put toward the debt she now owes him. But her list of people she trusts is dropping and it wasn’t big to begin with — Fury is dead and she isn’t sure where his death leaves Maria and there is no way she will call Clint and put his and Laura and the kids’ lives in danger.
She supposes she does trust Steve, but that thought unnerves her a little and she decides she’ll think about it at another time.
Steve is looking at her oddly. “You advocating trust?” he asks. “Should I be concerned about your head after all?”
She rolls her eyes at him. She knows he’s trying to lighten the mood, and she appreciates it, but now that she’s awake and the pain is subsiding, the worry in the pit of her stomach is growing. “Something this big, you need more than what I can give you,” she says, and she hopes he understands how much she means that. She wishes again she could give him something, but that’s never been who she is. “Now start thinking and drive, Rogers.”
“Yes ma’am.” He finally starts the engine and steps on the gas, and she breathes a sigh of relief because they are finally, finally moving again. She hates not having a plan mapped out, but now that they are getting back on the road, maybe she can convince herself that she at least has some semblance of control.
She watches his profile as the car picks up speed, and wishes again she could understand why he saved her, why he is still seemingly trying to save her.
“Steve?” she asks. “How long was I out?”
She sees him glance at the clock on the dash and then frown. “I don’t know,” he finally says.
The road around them is still empty, but she knows they are far from Jersey. She figures it was at least a couple hours. She nods at Steve, then tries for an attempt at humor, something to break the tension.
“Well. It was still a hell of a lot less than seventy years.”
She expects him to groan, maybe roll his eyes, but the laughter that escapes is almost jovial. It goes straight through her, and for a moment, she once again feels almost …safe.
She cringes at herself and looks out the window. Their journey is far from over, and even though she still can’t understand why he did what he did, even though she feels like this is one more thing she needs to add to her ledger to be paid back later, she feels better knowing Steve is by her side.
She wishes she didn’t — it scares her that she does — but for the moment, she decides to go with it. He saved her life; Maybe someday she can return the favor.