Part I: She's Been Everybody Else's Girl, Maybe Someday She'll Be Her Own

Calling Everybody Else's Girl, Maybe One Day She'll Be Her Own

There was no direct flight from Cairo into Wakanda. In fact, there were no commercial flights allowed into the country at all. Natasha flew as close as she could, then rented a car to complete the trip. Unsurprisingly, she was stopped at the border and figured her usual tactics would not allow access this time. So she gave them her real name and requested an audience with their king. This was irregular, and the border patrol regarded her suspiciously as they forwarded the message and waited for a response.

"The Dora Milaje will escort you," a guard eventually told her, followed by more waiting.

Finally, a car arrived and the woman Natasha remembered seeing in Berlin stepped out. She walked over and looked the Black Widow up and down carefully. "Come with me," she ordered, and Natasha obligingly followed her. The woman sat in the back with Natasha, while two more Dora Milaje were in the front. There was no speaking during the ride so she went over again what she was going to say.

When they arrived at what must be the palace, the three women surrounded her and took her inside to an anteroom down the hall to the left. It was small, holding only two couches and a table. Natasha had yet to be spoken to since the border and was struggling to keep down her nervousness. She had attacked the king of these people, which might call for justice instead of an audience with him. If it came to it, she would protect herself and hope not to incite an international incident.

Silently, the familiar Dora Milaje patted her down and confiscated her stingers and Widow's bites, making her feel exposed. She could handle herself without them, of course, but perhaps not against the women who were handpicked to protect their warrior king.

"What is your purpose here?" one of the women asked after she'd been stripped of her weaponry.

She shifted her weight slightly before answering. "I have ... information I would like to give him."

"In exchange for what?"

"An audience."

Frowning slightly, the woman nodded. Then she exited the room, leaving Natasha with the other two warriors. She considered sitting down on one of the couches but decided it would be better to wait for an invitation. One that was unlikely to come.

After an interminable wait, the door opened and Natasha was relieved to see T'Challa, flanked by the woman who had left and another Dora Milaje. "Ms. Romanoff. What an unexpected pleasure," he greeted her without giving any indication about how he felt after their last encounter.

"King T'Challa."

"What brings you here?"

She cleared her throat when it suddenly felt like it wouldn't work. "I'm told Barnes is here. I'd like to see him."

"I'm afraid you are misinformed," he replied calmly.

Pressing her lips together, she looked at him earnestly. "I have ... plans. Technical information. On what was done to him. I thought perhaps your people could use them to – to help," she explained haltingly.

He raised an eyebrow, not quite as distant and polite as he had been. "What is your relationship to him, Ms. Romanoff? Why did you let him escape?"

"I let St – Captain Rogers escape. Because it was the right thing to do. Which is also why I'm here. He deserves more than having to choose between a cryogenic tube and being hunted the world over."

Whether or not he was convinced was difficult to tell, but he nodded thoughtfully. "Come with me."

The four guards kept her away from their king as they made their way through the palace and into a laboratory of some kind. Natasha stopped up short, just for a moment, when she saw where the American was being kept. She'd seen a cryogenic chamber before. She'd seen what he was like when he came out. And went in. It was not a pleasant experience, so she was somewhat surprised to see how peaceful he looked. As they got closer, she was more surprised by the fact that his metal arm was missing.

"What happened to him?" she asked, motioning and managing to keep her tone neutral.

T'Challa glanced back at her, then toward a man in a lab coat who was approaching. "Your friend, Stark," he replied shortly in answer. "Ms. Romanoff has something for you," he continued, now addressing the man.

She held out the drive, which one of the Dora Milaje took and passed along. "It's all the files, including schematics of prototypes and pictures of working models, everything they had on what they did to his mind," she explained.

The scientist smiled at her. "Thank you, Ms. Romanoff. This will go a long way toward helping your friend," he said reassuringly.

A smile was her only response, and she was aware of T'Challa watching her. "Perhaps you would like us to wake him?" he asked after a pause, glancing at the other man for confirmation that this was possible.

"No!" She cleared her throat when everyone looked at her sharply. "That won't... That won't be necessary." They continued to stare, so she pressed on. "Perhaps... I could have a moment?"

T'Challa considered this, then nodded. "We will be outside when you are finished."

Surprised and touched by his understanding, Natasha watched them all file out, the Dora Milaje looking at her warningly before exiting after their king. Taking a deep breath, she walked closer to the cryo tube. It wasn't like the one that Department X, that HYDRA had used. It was less... claustrophobic and imposing. Almost comfortable.

Barnes' expression was a mix between peaceful and resigned. She understood why he did this – if there was a string of words that could make anyone able to command her, she would also want to hide. And he'd looked so tired when she'd seen him. Had he gotten a decent night's sleep once in the last two years? He had clearly been taking better care of himself than HYDRA had, but not enough. Surviving was not the same as living.

Hesitantly, she lifted a hand to touch the cold glass. "I don't know how things will be when you wake up. I don't know if you'll remember. I don't know if Steve should know what you mean to me. You taught me that I could be more than a weapon. That there was more to life than being used for someone else's ends. I owe you for giving me a reason to leave the Red Room.

"But I'm the reason you were wiped the first time. The reason you needed those goddamned trigger words. So this is my fault and I'm going to do whatever I can to make up for it. You're the only one who knows what it's like, and I hope that, when you wake up... Maybe we can ... be friends. We aren't who we used to be, not who we were then. So I know things aren't going to pick back up like they were. And I'm not sure I'd want them to.

"But I'm looking forward to meeting James Buchanan Barnes when you're free."

Taking a step back, she sniffed slightly then headed for the door. She had done what she set out to do, and now it was time to go back to work. After a polite and dignified farewell with T'Challa, she was escorted back to the border and got in her rented car. She had almost reached the airport when her phone rang.

"Romanoff."

"How's your Hindi?" Fury wanted to know.

"It's serviceable."

"Good. Pick up a ticket in Bengaluru under the name Nadira Chatterjee."

"Yes, sir."

"And, Natasha?"

"Yes?"

"Try to keep better track of everyone this time."

She smiled. "Yes, sir."

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A/N: I know this isn't BuckyNat yet, but I like slow burns, so please stick around :)  Part 2 will be Bucky-centric and will be posted in about a week, and there will be at least 4 parts, so I hope to hear from you all on the next ones!  Thank you for commenting and voting!