Road to War Part II: Yes, Anastasia

In the knot still in her hair, on the bus, I'm on my way down

She doesn't sleep particularly well, but certainly better than the night before. She expects to be woken by nightmares, either her own or James', but is not. There is a text waiting from Clint when she gets up, and she answers it quickly before leaving her room. The guest room door is open, and it is empty. She walks tentatively to the kitchen, and finds him standing by the window, looking out. A mixture of relief and apprehension crosses her mind, but she pushes it away.

"Good morning, James."

He turns around, and she notes how well-rested he looks. "Natalia," he answers.

She smiles faintly at the name and walks to the fridge to get breakfast. "Hungry?" she asks conversationally.

"Yeah. Can I help with something?"

Pausing, she assesses him, considering the surprisingly hesitant nature of the question. He looks back at her, meeting her eye, but seems uncomfortably exposed. She forces her smile to return. "Sure. Want to fry us up some bacon?"

"Alright."

The silence is broken only by, eventually, the sizzling of the bacon as she prepares the eggs and toast. She assumes that, like Steve, he prefers a lot of protein in his diet. When she glances over at him, it amuses her somewhat to see how intent he is on the task she gave him. She remembers being unnecessarily focused on simple activities, too.

When the food is ready, they sit down at the table and she decides it's been quiet too long. He appears too uncomfortable to break the silence himself.

"Natalia," she says, and he looks up sharply, confused. "No one has called me that in a long time."

He flinches. "Would you prefer if I called you something else?" he asks, sounding worried.

She smiles gently. "No, it's fine. I was just wondering how you knew it."

His brow furrows. "I... I don't know. Natasha is a fairly common nickname for Natalia," he offers.

Nodding, she sits back, finishing her breakfast. He eats slowly, and she can see the wheels in his head turning. She doesn't pry. But when he's done, he goes on sitting and staring and she decides to intervene. "James. How long will you stay?"

He glances up at her, staring in confusion for a moment before recognition flashes across his expression. Then he smiles. "Trying to get rid of me already?"

Relieved, she smiles back. "Well, you do eat quite a bit more than I was prepared for. But you can stay as long as you'd like," she adds sincerely.

Nodding, he gets to his feet. "I can't," he tells her firmly, turning away.

"I understand. All packed?" she asks lightly.

He nods again, decisively, picking up his pack from where it is lying near the door. She bites her lip.

"You want to check your room, just to be sure?"

His eyebrow raises, but he shrugs after a moment. "Alright," he mumbles, and drops his pack to walk down the hallway. Quickly, she opens a few of her cupboards and pulls out extra supplies for him, as well as a burner phone, and tucks them all into his pack. Then she sits back down and gazes nonchalantly out the window. "I'm ready," he says when he returns, looking at her curiously.

She smiles at him. "Good. Let's go," she answers, and holds up a blindfold apologetically. He smiles grimly and allows her to tie it on without moving. Then she leads him outside.

She watches him walk away until he reaches a bend in the road and she can't see him anymore. Absently, she rubs at her hand where he kissed it, confused by her reaction to his gallantry. If he does ask her to dinner later, she is relatively certain she'll take him up on it. Which doesn't seem like the appropriate reaction for her to have, at all. Steve will certainly be nice to him, forgive him, be overly trusting, but Steve has a reason to be. What is her excuse?