We'll Fight Together (Romanogers / Steve X Natasha)

Camping in Crossville

After some friendly debating, the trio decided to head for the nearest town. It would, in Natasha's theory, be a safe-haven for them. She doubted HYDRA would be idiotic enough to attack them in the middle of a crowd, especially in broad daylight. From there, they would have until sundown to fabricate a worthwhile plan. If they stayed any longer than a night, then Hydra would have no problem figuring out where they were.

Nearing the shambled cabin, the trio hopped into one of the vehicles out front. They left Natasha's black Stingray Corvette behind in favor of Steve's blue, two-door Ford truck. The less attention they received, the better.

The ride to town was much like their drive to HYDRA's old hide-out years ago, except for the fact that Clea was now wedged between the two Avengers. It was either that or the bed of the truck, and Steve wasn't taking any chances with that scenario. Still, despite the human barrier, Natasha was determined to break the silence.

"So, what made you want to live in New Jersey?"

Steve, one hand on the wheel and the other on the windowsill, looked over at her. After a moment, he replied, "Well, after what happened last time we were here, I figured it would be the last place Ross would expect. Or maybe I'm still chasing the past." His mind traveled to his old training camp, which was now no more than a stockpile of debris— the victim of a bogey. "To be honest, I'm not sure anymore."

Beside them, Clea hovered over Steve's notebook, pen in hand. She scribbled (with his permission, of course) words and pictures onto a hand-drawn map of the planet. The writing may have looked like gibberish to some, especially considering how atrocious her handwriting was, but Natasha it understood completely. Clea was writing in Russian, after all, which was both of their native languages. She babbled the language under her breath as she spoke, whispering in a tone that almost went unnoticed. It was nothing too important, just an occasional, "This building is here," or an "I believe this was there."

As Clea finally finished her work, they pulled into the outskirts of a town called "Crossville." The population must've been few Natasha noted, and many of the buildings were rundown and desolate. They drove around for a bit, not stopping until they reached the parking lot of the Crossville Motel, which was in similar condition to the rest of the town. It had about 18 rooms, most of which sported broken and cracked blinds that covered their windows, weathered doors, and the entire building, which was a dis-colored white, needed a paint job. Steve steered into the barren lot, pulling over and putting the truck in park. "I'll be back with a room key," he told them swiftly, leaving the two women alone.

Clea handed Natasha the quickly-drawn map. Upon inspection, Natasha noticed the teen had attempted to be as detailed as possible within the amount of time she had. "This is a map of every HYDRA base I know of."

Astonished, Natasha studied the notes, reading a few faculty names under her breath. Arsenals, laboratories, training camps, all spread out and labeled amongst the Earth's jagged surface. There must've been at least twenty buildings, all of them at the ready and planning something horrible. They must be destroyed, Natasha thought, her mind flashing to Steve's never ending battle against the heinous fiends. Every last one of them.

Suddenly, her gaze came to a stop as she scanned an unfamiliar word. "Kamar-Taj." She read it aloud, letting the syllables roll inside her mouth. It wasn't Russian– it couldn't have been. It seemed to be, Natasha deducted, an obscure country in Southern Asia. "Kamar-Taj," Natasha repeated. "You never listed a base."

"There isn't one. Kamar-Taj is just a..." Clea struggled to find the right words, her tongue clicking during the pause. "A goal."

Natasha was about to ask what Clea meant when Steve returned, a room key shuffled between his fingers. Reopening the door and motioning them to hop out, he informed them that they'd all be staying in Room 12. They followed his lead, as he had the only key, and upon finding the door they slipped into the dimly-lit room. It resembled a catacomb more than a living quarters, actually. The carpet, the bedsheets, and even the wallpaper, which had begun to peel in certain places, were blood red. Natasha also began to notice a raw, musty odor, the odor of something that hadn't been disturbed in a long while. She concluded, after running her fingers along one of the bedposts, that that "something" was dust. Speaking of beds, there were only two of them. And that only meant one thing...

Steve seemed to have read her mind, letting his voice ring out in a shy laugh. "I guess two of us will have to share."

"I call having my own bed!" Clea walked towards the farthest bed and plopped the hiking bag down. The bed frame shook under the sudden pressure, but Clea steadied it with the wave of her hand. She must've took in a breath of dust too, because the next thing she did was sneeze. Steve blessed her before Natasha spoke again.

"It's settled then," Natasha simpered as she looked into those sea-blue eyes of his. Even in this light, she could see the rosy hue of his face. "Just keep your distance." It wasn't a threat, but a level-headed request. Though, she wasn't sure why she said it. After all, in her heart, Natasha understood that he still loved Sharon.

Across the room, Clea was unpacking the hiking bag. One of the first things she did was grab Steve's new shield. Without looking behind her, she tossed it across the room and it landed on their bed in a perfect motion— because of her powers, no doubt. After sneezing a few more times, she returned to the two Avengers with a pen in her hand. Natasha handed her the notebook and the three of them sat at the foot of a bed as they began to formulate a plan. It took the better half of their day to complete, but eventually they created an idea so crazy that it might actually work: taking down Grant Ward.

"Are you sure Ward is the new leader of HYDRA?" Steve asked, his eyes scouring the map.

Clea nodded. "After Strucker was killed by the metal man-"

"Ultron," Natasha corrected.

"-Right." Clea continued. "After his death, Grant Ward, his second in command, took over. Just like Strucker, Ward believes I'm a weapon." She made a face that signified her disapproval. "I'll never be free until he's gone."

Natasha mulled over the notebook, studying its sights. "Where do you think he'll be?"

Clea thought for a moment before pointing to a building in the outskirts of the Netherlands. "Last time I checked, this is where HYDRA's main warehouse is. If anything, he'll be here."

.....

Steve didn't get much sleep that night. He stayed on his side of the bed, which was somewhat of a challenge, given the fact that the mattress was only a full and Steve was a broad-shouldered man, but the butterflies in his stomach just wouldn't settle. How could they when the only thoughts in his cluttered head pertained to HYDRA? To Clea? To Natasha? Natasha... He recalled how happy he was as he opened the front door that morning and found her standing on his front porch. It was in that moment that he realized how much he had missed her. And now, lying in a dark motel room in the middle of New Jersey, he understood that he never wanted to miss her again.

What am I thinking? She loves Banner, Steve thought to himself in the silence. He glanced over at Natasha, taking a moment to watch her peaceful slumber before redirecting his gaze towards the cracked ceiling. Besides, he told himself. I have Sharon. Upon thinking it, Steve immediately shook his head. In the past five months, the more he pondered his infatuation for Sharon, the more he realized that she was not only related to Peggy, but acted exactly like her. The butterflies in his stomach morphed into a storm and he suddenly felt ill. Was that all Sharon was? Peggy's replacement? The more he thought about it, the more his guilt grew and the sicker he felt. He didn't love Sharon, he just missed Peggy.

As the bed began to creak, Steve cocked his head to the right. Natasha had rolled over in her sleep, her head falling against his arm. Smiling, every thought of Sharon suddenly fled his mind. Although Natasha didn't love him, Steve realized that he must've loved her. And though he probably shouldn't have (for Banner's sake), he couldn't stop himself from pressing his forehead against hers and drifting off to sleep in an instant.

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I sort of have an idea of where I want to take the story now, but at the time, I have no idea where to go next. I hope you like this chapter, though.