We'll Always Have This

Chapter 1.

Pain. Searing, burning pain surged in waves up and down her back. Natasha pushed the feeling down; she'd deal with it when she got to the safe house. At least her position hadn't been compromised; the members of Rumlow's team she'd encountered weren't alive to report back what they'd seen, but she'd have to lay low for a few days to be sure, and that was on top of the recovery time she'd need. The mission was reconnaissance mostly, and they expected to be in the area for at least a few months. A few days' rest would be boring and inconvenient, but it wouldn't compromise the task. Or at least it wouldn't as long as she got back quickly and dealt with her injuries promptly. She'd had worse, but the pain was making itself increasingly aware. She felt tired and weak, knowing that wasn't merely due to the encounter or her long day; blood loss. At least there'd been no bullets involved; digging those out alone was always a literal and figurative pain. The wound causing the blood loss was on her back, so that would be tricky.

Focus, Natasha, all of these things can be addressed once you're off the street.

"Not much further," she whispered to herself as she bridled another wave of fire up her spine.

She was aware that her footsteps along the dark, narrow, empty alleyway were echoing too loudly. She had to remain calm and not panic; she forced herself to slow her pace down to quiet her steps. The first rule of going on the run, walk- don't run. Another wave of pain was what was causing the panic, and she knew it needed to be dealt with quickly. She tried to think of something else and focused on her surroundings. Why were all alleyways around the world like this? Tatters of rubbish, dirty, seemingly always with pools of filthy stagnant water regardless of when it had last rained. All it needed was a scrawny-looking cat or perhaps even a city fox. Neglect. The poor or criminals lived here. One with no choice, the other intentionally selected. One was too poor to care about the outside of their home, too poor and too tired. The other kind didn't care because it wasn't anywhere you stayed long enough. Ignored by all, places such as this were the perfect hiding place; you hid here just like she was about to do. It wasn't much further.

A corner approached. Her safe house was to the right and still some way away ahead but closer now than her starting point had been; she raised the gun she held in her right hand and took a breath as she rounded the corner. The barrel of a firearm met her, and she froze.

Shit. She'd neither heard nor seen any reason to think this would be a potential outcome. There were lots of reasons as to why, but none were relevant at this precise moment.

A second passed. Two. She hadn't fired, but neither had it. It was a he; tall, broad-shouldered, and the layers he wore did nothing to hide the muscles bulging beneath. Muscles specifically moulded for combat, a man trained and skilled. Fierce eyes shone underneath dark eyebrows. Long dark hair sat beneath a baseball cap, and stubble days old, threatening to become a beard, littered his angular jaw. He hadn't blinked; he stood staring a reflection of her unmoving form. Fear was in her chest because Natasha knew him. He wasn't one of Rumlow's squad, and in a fight especially injured, she didn't stand a chance against this adversary. Natasha knew that for a fact; she'd fought him before, and twice, he'd nearly killed her. She'd not been his mission the first time she was collateral damage. The second, Steve had saved her just in time.

What she saw and thought flashed through her mind in a moment, and still, neither of them had fired. She swallowed, inhaled, and looked down the barrel of her gun, past his weapon to the man brandishing it. He hadn't moved, nor could she see any sign that he intended to strike.

"I'm not here for you, Barnes."

"Still found me, though, Romanoff."

He'd responded to his name; rather surprisingly, he knew hers. This wasn't the Winter Soldier. This was the man Steve had been searching for since the Triskelion incident, looking for and had failed to find. Maybe, just maybe, they could go their separate ways without this becoming a fight. If it didn't, she was dead.