Road to War Part II: Yes, Anastasia

Come along now, little darling, we'll see how brave you are

She likes to visit the Avengers, and having them all in one location is pleasant. But she doesn't want to live there. At least not all the time. She gets an apartment in the City, and Tony is all too happy to help her set up tech to make it secure. Some of it she might feel better not having, but it's a nice gesture. Sam lives in DC most of the time, when Avengers business isn't callilng, and Steve takes James there frequently for some of the benefits the VA provides. Sam reminds Steve gently that there are similar facilities in New York, but maybe Steve is (understandably) concerned about James spending too much time around the others. For their part, they don't seem to know quite how to treat Captain America's brainwashed assassin best friend. Except for Clint, of course, who can get along with anyone. She's pleasantly surprised by how well they hit it off when he comes in for a while.

After a few weeks pass, she finds a note on her door when she comes home to her apartment. She is still doing some work for Fury and Maria, but not often in the field. Her identity is well-known and she isn't altogether comfortable with that, so she is at first concerned when she sees it. Then she smiles when she notices the Cyrillic writing.

'Natalia, dinner tonight at 7?" it says in Russian. The handwriting is large and square with each letter evenly spaced. Better than hers. She pulls the note down and checks her watch. Then she goes inside to get ready. Though she was exhausted after her day and looking forward to a nice bath, she showers quickly and dresses carefully.

Ten minutes before seven, she hears a sharp knock on her door. She smiles to herself; she should have expected he'd be on military time. Glancing one last time at her reflection, she goes to the door and opens it. James is standing a few feet away, his body language an odd mix of tense and casual. When he sees her, he smiles. If she didn't know better, she'd say he seems relieved. He's wearing black slacks, a white button-down shirt, a black suit coat, and gloves. She tries not the think about the necessity for the last of those. In her experiences with him, he's never had to hide his arm, and the current need to do so is oddly distressing.

"Ready?" he asks.

"Yes," she replies, grabbing her keys off the table by the door and stepping out into the hall with him. He moves back obligingly and waits while she locks the door. When she turns around, he offers her his arm, which she takes after a moment of hesitation. She's done this kind of thing hundreds of times with targets, but very rarely because it was something she wanted to do. Most of her previous relationships were... Well, there usually wasn't time for formal dates.

"What is it?" he asks, glancing over at her.

She doesn't know what expression gave her away, so she smiles disarmingly. "I was just thinking that it took Steve almost three years and quite a bit of badgering to get him to take a girl out. And here you are, just a year away from HYDRA, already on a date," she teases.

He smiles at her. "Steve always requires badgering to do anything, you know, normal. Anything not for God and Country," he adds in a mock-serious voice as he holds the door open for her. As soon as they are outside, he walks on the side of the street and she takes his left arm when he offers it. It might be her imagination, but she senses some hesitation before the gesture. Somewhat surprisingly, the arm doesn't feel cold through his sleeve. It's certainly harder than his flesh one, but no other difference is noticeable. She wraps her fingers around his bicep and walks close by him.

"Steve is always very focused," she agrees. "Not much of a personal life."

He shrugs. "I can imagine it being difficult to have one when you're carrying around the weight of the world on your shoulders."

She looks at him, considering. "You seem to remember him well."

Biting his lip, he doesn't meet her eye. "I don't know. I remember what he's like. I don't usually know why. There aren't specific instances I can think of."