The Lights in the Sky are Stars (Stasha)

[Steve Rogers]

Location: Avengers Tower
Date: 10/25/2012
Time: After Midnight

The Taskmaster.

That was the man's name, or alias. Steve had been sent out to deal with him. It seemed like all of New York's worst was out causing trouble, on Christmas of all days. That's what had Steve bothered the most, even on such a nice holiday, they had to be out making others miserable. What he hadn't know, was this one had been waiting for him specifically.

Yes, as it turned out, the Taskmaster made it his business to learn everyone opponent or planned opponent of his. By learn them, he meant, everything, right down to tiny movements that wouldn't effect the course of a fight. And the Captain blundered into that fight completely unprepared for what was coming after him.

Fighting this man wasn't like fighting a single person, it was like taking on an army of superheroes. Steve had been attacked in ways he couldn't have imagined possible. The Taskmaster had absolutely trounced him, broken just about everything. By the time Stark found him, Steve was actually losing consciousness, something he absolutely wouldn't let happen unless he was going to sleep, not after crashing into the ice. When he'd come to, Stark, Doctor Banner and Doctor Pym were all looking at him.

He relaxed a bit, until he thought about Natasha. That was when Steve had a little episode, trying to move, but not being very successful. Everything throbbed and ached and sent searing shots of hot pain through his nerves. This was the most terrifying experience of his life, bar none, Steve would rather be frozen again than this.

"Can we put him under?"

"Give her a few minutes. He can take it, you both read the file on Blonsky."

"Tony-"

"No Bruce."

"Just, wait."

[Natasha Romanoff]

* * *

Natasha barelled into the room, as out of breath as she’d ever been. The sprint back to the tower had nearly beaten her. It was only a mile, but she’d not paced herself at all. Putting every last ounce of dig she had into her heels in an effort to propel herself that much faster.

She cleared it in just under 5 minutes.

She’d been prepared to take the stairs, but Jarvis seemed to know she was coming and had the express elevator waiting for her. She’d conceded, jumping out as soon as the doors cracked.

When she found Steve awake and obviously in pain, with everyone hovering over him, their breaths collectively held, she nearly lost it. It was only thanks to her years of training that she was able to delay her reaction. She would make Tony pay soon. But first, Steve.

“Hey,” she said, looking down and trying to find somewhere to put her hands that wouldn’t cause him pain. She settled on threading the fingers of one hand very, very gently through his hair. “Doctor Pym’s going to put you out for a while now.”

Her tone indicated she’d brook no refusal; they’d waited long enough.

* * *

[Steve Rogers]

She'd gotten here. That was important to Steve, he probably would have tried to stay up as long as he could, drugs or no. He'd hoped she would come. It felt like the longest time since he'd actually seen her. They shared a glance now and then since the Gala, but nothing more than a word or too. It killed him, almost as much as the multiple wounds he had now were killing him. Steve's throat was dry, but he opened his mouth and spoke anyway, "Tasha. Sorry."

Not seeing her as much tore Steve up. He felt like he'd wrecked things by jumping the gun, telling her how he'd felt. Steve hadn't expected an immediate answer for what he'd said, and he sort of expected the tension after that night had ended so abruptly, also his fault. What he didn't expect, was the lack of communication, period. They hadn't interacted much at all, and especially now, during the holidays, his first holiday season since waking up, really confused him.

Natasha showing up here now, put him at ease, at least on that front.

"I l-," he paused, not wanting to trouble her like he had the first time, "You know."

Hank Pym had already hooked him to an IV that would put him out soon. Steve didn't talk, he just watched Natasha until his eyes got heavy and they closed. Hank was the first to speak up after that, "He won't feel anything, for awhile. His immune system will probably pick up the morphine and make it useless quickly. His metabolism is four times faster than ours." He rubbed the back of his head before saying, "Recovery for him is going to be quick, real medical Doctors or no, but, it's going to be painful."

[Natasha Romanoff]

* * *

”No, it’s – I – I know.”

It was all she could manage. Even here, now, she couldn’t bring herself to say the words. She, who’d lied about several thousand things in her life, couldn’t say this. Because it wasn’t a lie, and that made it different.

She smoothed her thumb over his temple until she knew he was out, and then she whirled on Tony.

“You’ve got two good ears, Stark, and you know what I told you.” Her voice was low and dangerous, her accent as thick as it had ever been, which admittedly wasn’t much. “Do not ever, when you have the chance to spare it, cause him pain again.”

Knowing right where to hit him, she narrowed her eyes.

“Imagine if it were Pepper.”

Tony was a man who hated being reminded of his insecurities, even if he did have a snarky comeback for them, and Pepper was perhaps his biggest. She knew he worried about her being caught in the fray, and she was too far gone to know better than to push that button now.

Staring him down for a long moment, she muttered a long stream of curses in Russian, storming out of the room to let the doctors work. After all, she had things to do.

* * *

[Steve Rogers]

Having nearly every bone in his body broken or fractured in some way was just about as unpleasant as things got. The Taskmaster had gotten away weeks ago, but Steve had ended up surviving their encounter. The thing was, once he'd made his full recovery and was back to full strength, Steve started to get a bit antsy, then a few days later, actually angry. There was a certain redheaded assassin on his mind, someone he'd seen before he went down, and had hoped to see when he woke up.

Of course Natasha wasn't there, Steve thought angrily a few days later. She was still avoiding him, if he hadn't been hurt, it probably would've been the same.

It made him wonder, what was their real wall? Steve thought they could break through the love thing. He thought Natasha might come around, it was a gut feeling. She guarded herself too much, or, maybe she just wouldn't 't feel the way he felt about her. Certainly, he would have seen her by now.

January was nearly over, and she was just gone. So was Barton, for that matter, which told him she'd gone off on a mission somewhere. That had been confirmed when Maria Hill told him Natasha requested an assignment. She'd run away, this time far away. He couldn't chase her, because he didn't know where to start. So that meant, more waiting, more sitting, more nothing while he healed to the point that he could return to active duty. And in that time, Captain America actually became a bit bitter about his love life.

When she returned, there would be words, Steve decided. He couldn't get scared off like he usually was when it came to emotional confrontation like this. Dammit, Natasha had abandoned him, something had to be said, whether they both ended up burned, or not.

[Natasha Romanoff]

* * *

Tasha returned from India in the middle of the night.

She was the picture of roughness – her face was scratched and her hair was wild, and all she wanted most in the world was a shower. Climbing up the steps, footfalls silent as ever, her normally flawless posture slightly slumped with weariness.

She’d had a lot of time to think when it was just her and the mosquitos. Most of her connection with Clint had been over secure radio frequency, and she’d been left to her own thoughts when the earpiece was silent. So she’d thought about Steve, about how she’d left and about how she’d felt. Natasha was ashamed of more than a few things in her life, and this just happened to be another for that list.

When she’d realised what time she would get in, she was grateful. He was likely to be asleep, and she hoped she could get in a spot of rest before she faced him. She had something to say – something that’d been on her mind during the entirety of her trek – but she didn’t want to face it tonight.

When she unlocked her door, she stood in her own doorway for a long moment. Everything was just as she’d left it, the colours and the décor her own, and even the smell of the air was rife with familiarity. She closed her eyes, letting it wash over her like a balm.

And then the Widow fell into bed for a long and dreamless sleep.

* * *

She woke up past noon the next day, immediately regretting not changing from her travel clothes before going to bed. Her shower was long and hot in an attempt to scrub away the weeks of hiking through the brush that she'd endured.

Forgoing the makeup, she threw her hair into a wet ponytail, civilian clothes on, and headed to the tower.

* * *

[Steve Rogers]

Steve was already back at the tower, having been graced with an early morning watch. That was how he preferred it, since Steve was up early anyway. He could use the afternoon to be constructive, help Miss van Dyne refine her fighting skills, when Doctor Banner was around, work on meditation, argue with Stark. Okay, some of them weren't as constructive as others, but Steve was starting to find a routine that worked for him. The sting of Natasha's absence from his life numbed a little when he was busy.

Today, Steve was in for a bit of a shock.

He'd finished his lunch and had decided to do a light workout on his floor in the living room. Standing on his hands, the Captain worked on his arms, doing a few push ups from the upside down position. After about ten or so, however, The Captain was interrupted by JARVIS calling in.

"I'm sorry to interrupt Captain Rogers, but you have a guest on their way up. They already have clearance to your floor."

Steve got back onto his feet, starting to unravel the tape on his palms, "Thank you JARVIS." It could have been one of three people. Fury, who had been MIA, Tony, the most likely choice, and then there was Natasha, who Steve imagined was the least likely to come. His wrist tape ended up bunched up in the waste basket as the door opened. He wasn't facing the opening door, expecting Stark.

"Unless it's a baseball game, I'm not going to go do whatever it is you're thinking Stark. I don't care if it's what guys from this century do, I'm not interested in places like that."

[Natasha Romanoff]

* * *

Natasha stood in the doorway, her fingers threaded together in front of her. She wore dark jeans, brown boots, and a red Fair Isle sweater that made her look about ten times more innocent than she actually was. Normally she showed up in workout gear – but after three weeks in India, she figured she could give her body a bit of a break. She’d nearly dislocated her knee early on, and though it had healed by now, the terrain had worn her body out.

”That’s the first time I’ve ever been mistaken for Tony,” she said. Her tone was forcibly light to cover the nervousness she felt.

Nerves over something that wasn’t a matter of national security. That was new.

She fought the urge to lean against the doorframe, and didn’t feel right taking another step into his space, either.

Contrition was a new emotion for her, but that’s what this was. When Steve had gotten hurt, her first instinct was to run and make sure he was alright. Once she’d determined that, she’d suddenly felt a surge of energy, though she knew deep down that it was really an impossibly strong urge to go and do something she was good at instead of facing what she wasn’t. As a professional, that made sense to Natasha: she couldn’t say what he wanted to hear, and couldn’t face his convalescence knowing he would be waiting to hear it, so she shipped off, just her and her gun. And Clint, though he’d left her alone for the most part.

In fact, the whole mission had left her alone too often with her own thoughts, and they’d always turned back to Steve. It was dangerous, being so severely unfocused, but she was good, and they’d succeeded.

And now she was back, with something else on her list of things to do.

“Can I come in…”

* * *

[Steve Rogers]

When he heard her voice, Steve tensed for a moment. He turned around, slowly. There was a heavy pump in his heart, but not a happy excitement. He was holding it in still, depending on how things went, Steve would decide if he was happy to see Natasha or not. After all, he'd been waiting for her to come back, but she'd run off. He needed to wait for her to say something before he bit her head off, or whatever the term was, Steve was too mad to remember 21st century slang.

She asked to come in and Steve let out his breath, "Yeah, come in."

That sounded fairly normal, Steve decided in his head. Didn't sound like he was mad at her for being gone the entire time he'd consciously recovered, it didn't sound like the hurt or disappointment that he felt from missing the holidays with Natasha over three words was coming out. Steve couldn't believe he'd actually managed to mask that, he usually wore his personal emotions on his sleeve. Now wasn't the time to congratulate himself though, Steve reminded the impressed voice, the conversation hadn't even started yet.

He watched her come into the room a little more. He wasn't sure what he wanted to do yet, there were a lot of thoughts running around screaming different instructions and scenarios at him. Steve swallowed hard, trying to be patient. Natasha hadn't said anything yet. Steve resisted clearing his throat before finally addressing her.

He assumed that whatever she'd run off to go do had to be over now, there was no way Natasha Romanoff would drop whatever she'd been doing to come see him, especially since he'd been awake and moving around for a week plus now. Hell, he'd even been on duty the past few days.


"So, you're, you're back from your mission then?" Okay, that sounded a bit testy, whoops.

[Natasha Romanoff]

* * *

”Thanks…”

He was tense. From his perspective, he had every right to be. Besides, she’d expected it. She deserved it.

Stepping into the room, she got a better look at how he was standing and how he moved. Despite the tension, there was no residual pain on his face, and he seemed to be recovered from what she could see. That was good. He’d been pretty banged up, and she hoped the serum would accelerate his healing. Yes, because it was more comfortable for him, but she’d also selfishly thought that coming back would be easier if she didn’t have to stare down the catalyst for her departure.

“You look good,” she noted, leaning one hip gently against the plush arm of the plain couch.

There was a short pause, and in that tiny space of time, she managed to question the entirety of her decision. She knew it wasn’t valid questioning, since she’d turned the issue over in her head for nearly the entire three weeks she was gone. This was just nerves. And Natasha of all people knew how to deal with nerves.

So she spat it out.

“I’m glad you’re back up on your feet.”

Well, that had sounded nothing like “I’m sorry I left.” Cringing inwardly, she thought for the first time that perhaps her apologies needed work, and she pulled her hair from its elastic in frustration.

“Steve, look. About Christmas…”

Wide eyes watching his, she cast a wide net, not finding the words she wanted.

* * *

[Steve Rogers]

Steve wasn't interested in the small talk, so he didn't respond to it. Under normal circumstances, he might've gone along with it until they both got tired of beating around the bush and got to the point. Not this time, this time, Steve was hurt. The flesh wounds were gone, the bones mended and the body rehabbed, but there was another part of him that hurt.

And, when he heard the word Christmas, he knew Natasha was about to get to the point, before she trailed off. No, they couldn't play this game right now.

"You know, Natasha, I don't care that you went on duty instead of keeping our plans," Steve started, "That was on me. I jumped the gun and said something too fast, and you wanted to back off a little. So, my first Christmas awake again wasn't exactly what I thought it would be, that's okay, I can adapt. But, I got hurt, and you were there, and I thought for a second, maybe things weren't as bad as I thought. Then I went under again." Steve paused a moment, "I hate sleeping, Tasha, I feel like I've wasted so much time sleeping, I could go down and then it could be 2070 for all I know, I just don't like to do it. It's bad enough I went down in 2012 and now it's 2013. I lost another two weeks sleeping, and it drives me nuts."

He rubbed the back of his head, trying to make physical contact with himself and keep him from flying off the handle, "I didn't expect you to sit there at my side like we're chained together or something. I didn't even think anything when I woke up and it was Hank and Jan sleeping in the room instead of you," he blinked. Steve wasn't trying to scare her off, or hurt her like he was hurting, when he'd said he loved her, he meant it, there was nothing he wanted more than to be with Natasha, but she was making it so hard on him.

"But, I've been awake for a week now, where have you been?"

Obviously he knew she went on a mission with Hawkeye, that wasn't what he meant. And he didn't mean where had she been physically either, that didn't really matter to him either. What Steve really wanted to know was, why hadn't Natasha been here after he got up?

[Natasha Romanoff]

* * *

If she hadn’t known he was upset from the minor lines at the corners of his mouth, or from the subtle change in the way he looked at her, not with passion but with skepticism, she knew now. The hurt was plain in his voice, and she mentally tallied up yet another thing to regret.

“It wasn’t on you, Steve, I –“

But he kept right on talking. Obviously since she’d been gone, he’d spent too much time with Tony. She settled down on her heels, subtly shifting her weight as she let him get it out of his system.

It was a long list. It was a valid list. And she learned more while he talked than she had in the past 6 months. He’d never been what she called an easy sleeper. It would take him ages sometimes to fall asleep, though it didn’t bother her since she was a night owl by nature, and when they woke he’d be stretched across his bed, limbs sprawled out every which way. It’d been endearing at first, but now she realised it was a byproduct of a deep hurt, and she ached for him.

Tasha hadn’t felt this way for anyone. Not for Clint, who she loved in her own way; not for Fury, who for all intents and purposes was the closest she got to having family; not for anyone.

When he was finished, his words questioning, she breathed out, fingers drumming a mirrored beat against her thighs.

“I was in India. With Clint.” She held up a hand, indicating she knew that’s what he didn’t want to hear. “I left because I didn’t know what to say when you woke up.”

Slim shoulders shrugged inside the oversized sweater.

“It’s not good, but it’s the truth.” She fixed him in her gaze for a long moment. “You’re worth that.”

* * *

[Steve Rogers]

He was worth her telling the truth?

Well, thank goodness for that. He'd hate to think about what the time they'd spent as a couple had meant if he hadn't been worth the truth.

And yet, he knew that telling him the absolute truth took a lot for Natasha, who spent so much of her life tangled up in a web of lies and a world full of distrust. Really, it was a good answer, while it didn't completely remove the hurt of Natasha not being there, it certainly alleviated a tiny bit knowing that his trust in her wasn't founded on nothing. She hadn't apologized for doing it, Steve even wondered if she felt bad, some things about Natasha were hard to pry out of her, and if she wasn't going to apologize, he wasn't going to make her.

"You've been there for me Tasha, almost since the beginning. And then, when I wanted to see you, wanted you there the most, you were gone." Steve tried to rationalize his hurt and anger, the answer was out there, nothing was going to change why Natasha was gone. It was over and done with, and they had to make up and move on, Steve was the one who said he loved Natasha, he wouldn't leave her, and he certainly couldn't just sit here and throw grievances at her.

His hands were lightly clenched into half fists. He wasn't sure where he was at, he was upset, angry and despite that, what he wanted to do most was embrace her and apologize for feeling the way he did. That was the most frustrating part of all, he wanted to apologize to Natasha.

"What I told you the night of the Gala," Steve started, "I still do, and I know that it makes you uncomfortable Natasha, but, it means something to me. So, even if you don't feel the same way, just, don't run away from me like that again. I'd rather you be around and silent, than just not around at all."

[Natasha Romanoff]

* * *

He’d wanted her there.

She’d suspected, of course, but there was a plaintive note in his voice that ratcheted up her guilt by about ten degrees. There were several parties in the world that would literally kill for -- or at the very least, pay good money for – the secret to guilting the Black Widow into anything.

And here Steve had figured it out in 6 months without even trying.

Damn him. Life had been easier before they’d met. Maybe not nearly as enjoyable, or as morally sound… Steve was good for her, she knew, but for the first time in years she felt her priorities shifting. This time it wasn’t a conscious decision, and it scared her on some level.

“I know you do, Steve. And I do, too, it’s just --”

She remembered the night of the gala in technicolour detail, and she pressed forward, intent on clearing the air of everything rattling around inside her head. It was part guilt, part loyalty, part craving for human attention. She was no stranger to the extreme solitude India had posed, and most times she even enjoyed it, but she could hardly deny it was good to be back.

The rest of her words, her whole tirade about how he knew who she was and expecting anything radically different was massively unfair to her, stuck in her throat. Had she really just admitted she loved him?

* * *

[Steve Rogers]

Had she just said what he'd thought she had said? Steve had heard it, he just wasn't sure he believed that he had yet. The Captain blinked a few times before finally working up the courage to confirm what Natasha had just said to him. He looked at her, into her eyes, the only way Steve could ever really read her. He could tell just by the shock in her that she had let it slip out, and given what she'd said before, Steve knew it wasn't a mistake, or an act. That was Natasha telling the truth.

He hadn't meant to fall in love with her so quickly, it had just happened. He figured that's how it worked, and maybe it had just taken Natasha a little longer, and some soul searching, to realize the same thing that he had. Certainly, he wanted her to reciprocate the feelings that he had for her. There was nothing Steve wanted more than that.

However, Steve didn't want this to be start/stop, he had to get a little more from her than just an accidental admittance.

"You-" Steve stepped closer to Natasha, "You do? Really?"

Steve reached out, trying to take Natasha's hand. If she did, then, there was nothing more Steve could ask for from her, there wasn't anything else he'd want to.

"Natasha, I love you."