On The Run

Paris

"I'm not the one who needs to watch their back."

She'd just left. There'd been a (very) short period of time when she'd been contemplating going back to the Avengers base to retrieve her things-the FBI was too busy dealing with the process and containment of the detained Avengers to worry about her-but she eventually decided against it. Better not to risk it, especially since everything she had could be easily replaced. After all, she supposed she was a fugitive just as much as they were. She'd risked everything to help Steve, because there was some small part of her that knew if he was saying there were more psycho assassins out there like the Winter Soldier he had a good reason for it-and the rest of the world probably depended on it. But that didn't matter to the government. It didn't matter to Stark.

So she didn't go to the Base. She just stole a car from Leipzig-a nice Subaru; roomy, with a wide range of radio stations-and drove off. It was late May, the perfect time to do some sightseeing. It had been a long time since she'd been to Europe without being on a mission of some kind. Maybe she could go to Paris-see the Louvre, eat at one of those outdoor cafes, and watch the sunset from the Eiffel Tower. She could forget about everything for just a little while until it all blew over.

So she did. Natasha Romanoff went back to doing what she did best-and dropped off the grid completely.

She was no stranger to being on the run and hiding in plain sight. She knew how to look at the ground and walk fast-but not too fast-so she could stay on the edges of everyone's vision. She could speak two dozen languages fluently. She could completely blend into a busy street; no one noticed her. Not even when the warrants came up for her arrest-and the price on her head got bigger and bigger. She didn't worry about it. They wouldn't find her unless she wanted to be found.

But that didn't mean she was immune to everything else that was happening in the world around her. She picked up the newspaper the next morning, eating a croissant at a tiny patisserie that was nearly deserted at such an early hour, seeing pictures of her friends in handcuffs staring back at her. Apparently Steve and Bucky were still MIA-though the entire world was looking for them. The government officials said that it was only a matter of time before they were taken in and perhaps even arrested. Natasha knew better. She read Tony's remarks on the whole incident: how it had been a mistake and he would personally pay for any outstanding damages caused to the Leipzig/Halle airport. That was nice of him to take the fall, she mused thoughtfully. Though it would certainly keep him out of jail, considering that Team Cap hadn't been the only ones to cause damages.

"More coffee, miss," her waiter, a clean cut young man with neatly gelled black hair (who looked surprisingly awake) said in perfect French as he brought over a fresh pitcher and a few more packets of sugar.

"No thank you," she replied politely, not looking up from the article.

He followed her eyeline, "It's very sad, isn't it? The world's greatest superheroes reduced to a debacle like this? Perhaps the United Nations has a point-maybe it's safer for us all if the team is more restricted."

She tried not to bristle obviously. The Avengers were still her friends-and they were still her team, even if they didn't realize it at the moment, "Perhaps-but the last thing we want is for them to become partisan. It's sometimes hard to remember they're just people like you and me. When they're saving the world, they seem like gods-but they're people, and people make mistakes."

"Unfortunately, when you hold such great power, mistakes are more costly."

She sighed, shoving the newspaper into her purse and finishing the last of her croissant. Pressing a few coins into the waiter's hand, she stood and turned to leave, "You're right. I have to go. Will this be enough to cover the meal?"