Heat Wave ➣Romanogers

Twenty-Nine

Steve was pulling himself together admirably. Considering what he'd just gone through, that was fairly remarkable. Natasha watched him gather his composure as though it was a measurable process, one he was taking faster than he probably should have. She'd seen other agents go down with flashbacks and panic attacks before. It was a rare thing, but in their line of work, it was to be expected. Usually after an episode like this, medical would step in, prescribing drugs and therapy and downtime. They didn't have that luxury. All they had was his own strength and will to recover.

She had to respect just how much strength and will he had, now more than ever.

Their luck was changing at least (well, changing from completely horrible to only marginally horrible). Rego had apparently decided to flood the Black Hand's ballast tanks after pulling into the harbor in Cameroon. The Black Hand was moored at a rusty, decrepit excuse for a dock. Dawn was coming if the faint light in the eastern sky was any indication, but it was still black enough for the two of them to hide under the dock, collect themselves, and gauge the situation. Rego and a great deal of his men were disembarking the Black Hand just as Natasha and Steve took cover. Natasha was entirely certain they hadn't been spotted, especially given the fact that Rego wasn't even looking, secure in his belief that he'd killed his prisoners. Loud shouting in Portuguese filled the humid air as the pirate captain directed his men to bring Halliday and their gear toward the small buildings ashore. Her vantage turned poor at that point, so she waited and listened until the sound of car and truck engines firing up roared through the tiny excuse for a port. Once they were gone, she chanced swimming out from beneath the concealing wood and rusty metal of the dock. "Come on," she whispered.

Steve was still shaking, but he managed to swim out from under the dock after her. His movements were jerky and disjointed. That bothered her, but she didn't show it. "Give me a boost?" she asked. He clumsily did so, cupping his hands beneath the surface of the water so she could plant her foot in them. He lifted her high enough for her to reach the edge of the dock. After hauling herself up, she leaned down to him, taking his hand and helping him climb. He was slower to do that, and he was slower to get to his feet after he made it up. Natasha afforded him a moment, taking stock of their surroundings. The dock seemed deserted. Still, she feared there might be men patrolling the deck of the Black Hand, so they needed to get to cover. "Let's go."

"Where?" he whispered, allowing her to help him get to his feet. His knees seemed to bend beneath him before he got better control of himself.

"Back aboard. Rego took most of his crew with him. And they were armed." That sounded like the pirate captain was expecting trouble, which was neither here nor there at the moment. It just meant returning to the ship was likely to be easier than it normally would have been and hence worth the risk. They needed guns and supplies. They needed to try and contact SHIELD. Quickly and quietly she ran down the dock to the gangway. He followed, barely a ghost of his normal grace and alacrity clinging to his movements. She paused at the gangway, hiding in the shadows and listening. It was completely silent save for the waves lapping against the ship's hull and the dock. With a curt nod to him, they proceeded up the gangway.

The ship was as empty as she suspected. If the Black Hand had a radio (and she hoped it did), they'd likely find it on the bridge. She glanced over her shoulder at Steve. He was leaning against the railing that ran the length of the deck, shivering with his eyes closed. She reached for his wrist, and he jolted at her touch. She smiled disarmingly. "You with me?" He just stared at her, like he didn't recognize her or understand what she was asking. Then he gave a halting nod. "Hey, at least they can remember today as the day they almost killed Captain America." He looked even more dazed and confused, if that was possible. "You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you."