For you, I'll risk it all

XXIV

Once they returned to the safety of the compound, Tony Stark wasted no time in trying to secure a meeting with Zemo. However, the task proved to be more challenging than anticipated, given the complex and heightened security protocols that had been put in place following the disturbing news about the Hydra supersoldier. It was becoming increasingly clear that it might take several days before he would be granted access to Zemo.

During this waiting period, Natasha and Clint made the decision to go visit Clint's family. They had unfortunately missed Cooper's birthday due to the turmoil and chaos of the past few weeks. The reality of their lives often meant sacrificing personal moments for the greater good.

"Are you sure you can manage without me?" Natasha questioned, her tone laced with concern. She hoisted her bag over her shoulder, her eyes never leaving Steve who was leaning casually against the kitchen table.

"We'll be fine, Nat. Don't worry," Steve reassured her, attempting to offer a comforting smile.

"Are you trying to convince yourself of that?" Clint interjected, appearing behind Natasha with two bags in his hands. One of them was likely filled with either birthday gifts for his son or perhaps, more amusingly, things stolen from Tony's lab. His son always got a kick out of those.

Natasha chuckled at Clint's joke, but there was a clear hint of concern etched in her expression. "Call if you need anything, okay?"

"Don't worry, mom," Steve retorted, his tone teasing even as he matched her serious gaze.

"I mean it," she responded, her tone hardened as they embraced. There was an unspoken promise in her words, a silent understanding shared between them.

"Text when you get there, okay?" Steve requested, extending his hand to Clint for a firm handshake.

"Sure, dad," Natasha retorted playfully, a glint of mischief in her eye as she slid into the elevator with Clint.

Meanwhile, Iris was in the lab with Bruce, tending to her wounds, while Sam was training outside with Wanda. Bucky was likely still in his room, isolating himself from the rest.

As Steve busied himself with preparing some coffee, his mind couldn't help but wander back to the base in Siberia. The images of the cells that resembled animal cages, the stench of mold and human waste ingrained in the walls, were still fresh in his mind. The doors were reinforced, as if they were designed to contain a wild beast, and the thin mattress, stained with blood, offered little comfort. The thought of Iris and Bucky enduring such miserable conditions was a painful realization. Yet, amidst all that suffering, they found solace in each other. They exchanged letters, shared sketches, and communicated through a hole in the wall that was small enough to remain a secret but wide enough for their hands to pass through. A small comfort in a sea of despair.

But even as his heart warmed at the thought of their connection, it faltered with a feeling of dread he recognized from the time he heard about Bucharest. Did she wake up whenever she heard the harsh slam of his cell door in the middle of the night? What stories did he tell her when he returned from a mission? Was he waiting awake when it was her turn to step outside? How often did they exchange letters? Was the opening in the wall wide enough for two hands to pass through? Did he let her touch his bloodied hands?

He knew he shouldn't dwell on these thoughts, but he couldn't ignore them either. He needed answers, he needed to understand the depths of what they've been through, now that they were all together again.

With a heavy heart, Steve entered his room and pulled out the stack of letters he'd retrieved from Iris's cell in Siberia. He found himself staring at them for what felt like hours before finally mustering the courage to pick up the first one.