..By and By.. ((Steve/Natasha))

[Natasha Romanoff]

Location: Avengers Tower
Date: a random Tuesday, 8 months post-Loki
Time of Day: Mid afternoon

* * *

It was a fairly boring Tuesday. Natasha stepped off the subway – she had a fairly unobtrusive Vespa, but she hated traffic at this point in the day, and sometimes she liked the anonymity that public transport afforded – and walked the three blocks to Avengers Tower. Even after the last few months, she couldn’t understand why Tony had had to go and build something so conspicuous, but there was nothing she could do now.

Her red curls were pulled back in a jaunty, no-fuss ponytail, and she wore a simple black tank over tight jeans and black ankle boots. She stopped behind the front desk briefly, a flash of badge from her purse sparing her any questions from the secretary on duty, though she knew the woman would have been briefed. As was her habit, she left her wraparound sunglasses on until she was in the elevator, at which point she slid them smoothly into her purse. A scan of her fingerprint gave her clearance to select the top levels of the tower, and she rode up in silence.

With a ding, the steel doors slid open to reveal the glorified clubhouse that had become the hub for team activity. She assumed Bruce was in one of the labs on premises, and there was no telling where Thor was. Tony would either be drunk or working, a 50/50 chance there, really, and either way Pepper would be with him. Ignoring him, possibly, but still in close proximity.

But Steve sat on the sofa. She didn’t take too much notice of what he was doing, not wanting to intrude if he wanted his own space, but she dropped an official looking envelope into his lap as she passed.

“Mail for you, soldier boy.”

She stepped into the kitchen, depositing the rest of the mail on the granite top of the wraparound breakfast bar and headed to refill her water bottle, thinking about getting in a bit of a workout while she was at the tower.

* * *

[Steve Rogers]

Steve was taking a break, just sitting and doing nothing. He liked to just relax on the occasional day, rather than work himself to the point where he could barely move, a usual activity of his. It was days like today that were meant for doing nothing. Everyone around him was in the middle of their usual activity, while Steve was the odd one out. It actually amused him more than it really should have.

That's when a letter dropped into his lap.

“Mail for you, soldier boy.”

He looked up from staring into nowhere, smiling to the redheaded super spy, "Thank you Natasha." Steve figured that by now they had to be on first name basis. If she made a face, he'd go back to Agent Romanaoff, but it was worth a shot. He liked Natasha, she was the easiest to get along with among their group. He supposed that he really wanted to be close with Natasha, maybe for more than just similarities.

Regardless, he had a letter to open. This was rare, because no one really knew where Steve lived, and most people that actually knew him were in nursing centers or had passed away. Hopefully this was some good news. He slid his finger under the lip of the envelope and pulled it open. After a few moments, he had the letter in his hand, eyes scanning over the words.

It was hard not to look upset after this. Steve's eyes told the whole story. Someone he'd known from a long time ago was gone. Someone very close to his heart, The first woman he'd really ever had a chance to talk to, get to know, fall in love with, Peggy Carter. Peggy had passed away and had her funeral two weeks ago. No one had thought to tell Steve until now.

[Natasha Romanoff]

* * *

Her mouth quirked as she heard him use her actual name. Maybe it was because she’d caught him off-duty, but he’d never been so informal with her. It wasn’t unwelcome, just strange; she wondered if she’d be back to “Agent Romanoff” once they were in the company of the rest of the team. Silently, she bet herself that she probably would be, but she didn’t mind.

Shuffling around in the monster of the kitchen Tony had installed, she refilled her water bottle and took a minute to search the cabinets. Finding a stash of protein bars, she snagged one and tore the foil wrapper off. She’d skipped lunch, and this would do; Natasha had never really been one to be picky about food.

Bar in one hand, she set her water bottle on the counter next to the mail pile and neatly vaulted over the back of the posh sofa. It had become habit to do so because it annoyed Tony so much, though the effect was lost because he wasn’t present. Still, it landed her on the opposite end of from Steve, a cushion between them as she tucked her legs comfortably underneath her, a glance sliding to the dark television.

“If you’re not busy, I was thinking of getting a workout in, if you’re up for a bit of sparring we could…”

The words trailed off into nothing, and she inwardly cursed herself for not being more astute. His voice had sounded fine moments ago, but now something was terribly off. She looked down at her hands, not wanting to crowd him, her voice immediately more detached, businesslike.

“Nevermind. Should I go…”

* * *

[Steve Rogers]

“Nevermind. Should I go…”

"No!" Steve said, with a little too much eagerness in his voice. He paused and said, "Sorry, I. I just got some bad news. I, could use the company, if you don't mind." He didn't know how she handled stuff like this, honestly, Natasha kept up such a steely personality, he was never able to really put down what was going through her mind. However, it was nice to have someone at his side for a moment, especially the redhead.

He sighed before saying, "Someone, special to me from before I got frozen, passed away and was buried two weeks ago. No one let me know." He stayed silent for just a second as a smile cracked, "She lived a long time. Hope she was happy." Steve was seen in countless old videos with Peggy's picture in his compass, anyone who'd watched those old films from when he was out at war had to know how much she meant to him.

Captain Rogers looked to Natasha and said, "No one ever told me she was alive. I could have seen her again." He said could have, but could he really? After leaving her waiting for seventy years, could he have faced her? Steve didn't know if he was brave enough for something like that. He read the letter once more before folding it up. Peggy had been the last one he'd heard of. None of his old friends were alive anymore.

[Natasha Romanoff]

* * *

She was a bit surprised with the vehemence in his voice when he answered, but she’d had years of covering that sort of reaction, and her face remained impassive. She stayed quiet, letting him take the time he needed to decide what he wanted to tell her.

When he had spoken, she was silent for a beat. She thought she knew who he was talking about; thanks to a careful combing of the SHIELD files on the subject of Captain America, she understood there had been a woman present at the very beginning of his career, and that she had been at least indirectly responsible for his first coup out at a Hydra weapons plant. Stark had mentioned her once or twice when Steve hadn’t been around, a crude suggestion that the Captain “needed to find another woman like that” floating up in her memory. No doubt Tony had read about her in the same place Natasha had – the SHIELD database really was no match for Jarvis.

Not really knowing what to say, and unable to convey that she was genuinely sorry he was hurting, she kept a careful eye on her unpolished fingernails.

“I’m sorry.”

Maybe it was because of Russia, or maybe it was because of SHIELD, but this was one situation Natasha definitely didn’t know how to handle. She understood emotions complexly, knew how most people reacted in certain situations, and she’d used that knowledge in her line of work several times.

But this had nothing to do with work. This was emotion, alright, but it was unbidden and served no purpose. This was the unpredictability of the human existence, and unpredictability never sat well with her.

* * *

[Steve Rogers]

He stayed still for a time, head down, eyes fixed on his boots. Steve didn't know what to do with himself. He'd looked all over for Peggy when he'd first been unfrozen and let out into the public. He'd had no luck finding her, so Steve had assumed she was already gone or had stayed in England. What really hurt was that she was here, all this time, Peggy had been in New York City, right under Steve's nose.

Now it didn't matter. She really was gone, he'd missed his chance. That date was gone, and he'd never get it back. The Captain looked up before moving to get off the couch. Letter still in hand, he looked to Natasha and said, "I need to go see her." He meant Peggy's grave. He had a motorcycle in the garage that he'd been allowed to keep. It didn't take up too much space, and he'd been given a new driver's license.

Steve wasn't exactly thinking straight, but he knew that one thing was for sure, he wanted to say goodbye properly. Even if she couldn't hear him here, he knew somewhere out there, she'd be listening. At least, that's what he still liked to believe.

Unaware of whether he was being followed, Steve turned and headed toward the elevator, which opened and it's user exited. Tony Stark walked past, watching as Steve got into the elevator, "Where's the fire Cap?"

"Not now Stark."

The elevator shut and Tony turned toward Natasha, "Y'know, for someone that likes to stick her nose into other people's business, you're doing a heck of a job of sitting on the couch." He looked to the elevator and said, "You should follow him. I've got this thing to do that's late and Pepper's going to kill me already. Do me a favor and make sure Old Man Rogers doesn't crash his bike or something. Arthritis has to have kicked in already, he doesn't need a hip replacement to boot."

[Natasha Romanoff]

* * *

Obviously uncomfortable with not knowing how to help, Natasha just nodded, as close to meek as she ever got. Gracefully, she didn’t call anything after him as he left the sofa, his heavy footsteps a dead giveaway for his intended destination: the elevator.

Quickly composing herself as she heard the quick exchange between him and tony, she flicked the television on just as the metal doors of the elevator slid closed, doing her best to look innocent. She wasn’t, by a long stretch, and of course Tony knew better.

”Do me a favor and make sure Old Man Rogers doesn't crash his bike or something. Arthritis has to have kicked in already, he doesn't need a hip replacement to boot."

She let the snark fly right on by her; honestly, she was convinced it was the only language Tony spoke. Besides, she was only half listening to his tone. Natasha knew well enough that solo excursions were rarely a good idea, especially when it was personal. And Steve’s reaction said that this was definitely personal.

As much as she extremely didn’t want to poke her nose into things for once, as Tony not-so-delicately put it, it was probably best that she did. The last thing they needed was a superhero flying off the handle. Not that she suspected Steve would – the little she knew of him suggested he was the most level of the team, besides herself – but she knew it was her duty to save SHIELD the PR grief if she could, if nothing else.

Gritting her teeth, she didn’t dignify Tony with an answer, instead shooting him a dagger-sharp glare as she pointedly vaulted back over the couch, grabbing her purse and water bottle on the way to the pair of express elevators around the corner. The doors slid shut behind her and she started her non-stop descent to the garage level, hoping Steve wouldn’t hate her for what she was about to do.

Jogging quickly out of the elevator and into the garage, she grabbed a spare helmet from a row on the wall, grateful it was plain black. She’d expected something flashy, but she supposed Steve had chosen these instead of Tony.

He was exactly where she’d assumed he’d be, buckling his own helmet on astride his personal cycle. Without a word, she threw a long leg over the seat, settling on the back and simultaneously doing her best not to crowd his space.

“Decided you shouldn’t go it alone,” she said simply. There was solidarity and caution in her voice, and she lifted her boots from the floor, winding a cautious arm around his middle with a deep breath, reminding herself that this was work now.

"Ready when you are."

* * *

[Steve Rogers]

Having put on his jacket and his helmet on, Steve was getting settled into the seat of his motorcycle when he heard the elevator door open and light footsteps being made. That would be Natasha, no one else on the team walked so lightly. He nearly protested her presence as she walked up to him, putting on a helmet and swinging onto the back seat of the bike.

“Decided you shouldn’t go it alone,”

"You don't have to come with me."

He wasn't going to say he didn't want her to. Quite frankly, he could use a support system at the moment. Peggy was special to him and losing her had his chest beating like he was having a heart attack. He knew that wasn't the case, it was impossible for him to have a heart attack because of the serum. It was all just grief, and to Steve, the best way to deal with grief was with someone to stick with you.

"Ready when you are."

That was insistent, and very much appreciated. He didn't say anything, simply fired up the engine and headed out the exit. He knew where the cemetery was, Steve knew the city like the back of his hand. It would take maybe five minutes, ten at the most to arrive.

When they got there, Steve parked and put the kickstand up and looked to Natasha as he got off the bike. He looked down again for a moment before saying, "Thank you, Natasha, for coming with me here."

[Natasha Romanoff]

* * *

At first, she couldn’t decide if he was angry she’d followed him or not. His voice was curiously neutral as he reminded her she didn’t have to be there, a fact that was glaringly obvious. She wasn’t his babysitter, he was obviously allowed to go where he pleased. The hollow lack in his voice gave her pause, and she didn’t move a muscle on the back of the cycle until she felt the roar of the engine between her thighs.

It was easiest this way, without an argument. She knew he probably wasn’t thinking straight, and she doubted he’d be sharp with her – he was textbook polite to women, it seemed – but on some level, she didn’t want him resenting her, especially for a reason as personal as this. In her line of work, that was detrimental to a team environment.

Managing to wrestle her personal feelings away from the situation, she hung on coolly, doing her best to give him his space and not cling as they rode in the sun. By the time they reached the cemetery, the cycle was the loudest thing for two city blocks at least, and Natasha had convinced herself she was there for the good of the team. Someone needed to keep Captain on an even keel, and though cleaning up the aftermath of personal tragedies wasn’t her strongest suit, she knew someone had to do it.

The bike eventually stopped, and she stayed put, having no intention to follow him or walk around. She was still in work mode, fully believing she was here on behalf of the Avengers’ best interests, when he paused and spoke up.

"Thank you, Natasha, for coming with me here."

She didn’t blush; she was too well-trained for that. But he had caught her offguard. Flustered but expertly passing it off as a desire to give him a modicum of privacy, she waved him off.

“It’s nothing. I’ll be here when you get back.”

* * *

[Steve Rogers]

Steve nodded gratefully, not wanting to sound like a goon by thanking her again. Instead, he just entered the cemetery and went off to find out where Peggy had been buried. His legs never had felt so heavy, not even after he'd walked across Austria for days, not even after he'd woken up after sleeping for seventy years. No, right now, his legs were trying their damnedest to stay rooted to the ground, keeping him from moving. Still, he pressed on, finally making his way to where Peggy was rested.

He read the stone briefly, examining it, trying to will it to be untrue, but unfortunately, there she was. Peggy Carter, the ground was still freshly placed, only buds of grass had sprouted. Steve took a knee and then blinked a few times. This was just as bad as when he'd lost Bucky, except when Bucky died, that had been because of his own poor performance during a mission. He'd lost Peggy to time, something completely out of his control. He'd never felt so powerless.

"Hi Peggy."

He started talking, not really sure where to start, "I wish I had know, that you were around when I'd first been unfrozen. I wish I could have seen you one more time, so we could have had that date. You were going to teach me to dance remember? I still don't know how." He smiled and chuckled sadly, "I still can't talk to women apparently either."

The Captain looked at Peggy's stone as if she were actually there looking him in the eye, "Did you know I was back? Did you see me during that whole mess in May? There are others now. Others like me. Well, not like me, but in a way they are. You'd have been proud to see the team. We're still fighting the good fight. It's amazing Peggy, when I came back, I didn't have anywhere, SHIELD didn't even want me, but now, I have somewhere, even if it is a big ugly tower."

Blinking a few tears away, Steve tried to keep a lid on his emotions, "I just wish, I had the time to do it all properly. I wish I could go back so badly Peggy. I guess, that's just another thing Hydra took from me, from us." He took a deep breath, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He didn't speak again for some time, simply stared ahead, not saying anything, not thinking anything.

Just, silence.

[Natasha Romanoff]

* * *

There was nothing more important to Natasha than privacy.

Well, almost nothing. Loyalty was right up there, she’d just lived through plenty of situations where privacy was the scarce commodity, and it tended to be precious to her. So as Steve ambled toward a fresh gravesite, Natasha planted a foot firmly in the dirt on either side of the cycle, purposely turning her upper body away to look off into the distance so Steve could have his moments.

Death was nothing new to her; in her line of work, she’d lost many comrades, and killed even more foes. She’d lost her family young, and her mentor short years after that, but she hadn’t had the opportunity to mourn properly. Her closure hadn’t come from ceremony or from having a site to visit year after year, so she wasn’t quite sure she understood cemeteries. But if this visit would make things easier for Steve, she didn’t have to understand it… she just needed to make sure he stayed in one piece for the good of the team.

Yeah, that was it.

Risking a glance over her shoulder, she noted Steve had his back to her, and she rested her gaze on him for a few short seconds before turning back around, not wanting him to think he was being spied on. Shoulders squared as usual, it was only her eyes that gave away the fact that she was genuinely sorry for the man; Peggy had to have been a hell of a woman. As she stood, she wondered to herself if there had been anything between them; it had certainly taken a good bit of faith in the man to coordinate an ambush on his behalf into Hydra territory. In that vein, Natasha almost felt like she herself had respects to pay; the woman had done an extraordinary thing that day.

With a soft intake of breath, she resettled on the cycle seat, legs still bracing against the ground, prepared to wait all night if she had to. She was here because it was her job, but she cared because it was Steve.

* * *

[Steve Rogers]

Steve stayed by Peggy's grave for a bit longer. Fifteen minutes passed, then thirty more. Finally after an hour of silent mourning, Steve got up and silently made his goodbye, 'Peggy. I'll keep on living, for Bucky, and the guys, for everyone we lost, for you.' With that, The Captain turned and walked away. He couldn't come back here again, not for a good long time. He needed some time to heal, this wound struck him harder than anything he'd ever felt physically in his life.

Eventually, Steve reached Natasha and just looked at her for a few moments. The lump in his throat made speaking a bit difficult, but he eventually shook it off and managed to say something, "Natasha, I, really am grateful. You didn't need to come here, I don't have much anymore. Just my shield, some pictures and the Avengers." At least with the team, he still felt like he was doing something right, like he still had some worth in the world, he could do great things, Steve still belonged.

He rubbed the back of his head before continuing, "We, we should go. If you don't mind." Steve wanted to get out of the area, go somewhere, anywhere that wasn't here. He'd came here knowing what would be there, knowing it would hurt, but doing it anyway, because something told him that he really had to.

When Steve got onto the bike, he put his helmet back on. Having Natasha there kept him level. He couldn't fly off the handle while she was with him, or he'd be putting her into serious danger. He wondered if that was why she'd come, to protect him from himself. That was, incredibly kind of her. She was a great team mate, no, better than that, Natasha was a amazing friend to Steve.

[Natasha Romanoff]

* * *

The time passed slowly, and to keep herself busy without wandering off, Natasha meditated on a practice she’d begun years ago: mental training. She picked a skill – in this case it was hand to hand combat – and visualised it, down to its very last detail. It was like watching a movie of herself, one where she could spot all the tiny mistakes and flaws, making mental note to review them in person later.

By the time she heard Steve tromping back toward the cycle, she had found flaws in both her knife fighting instincts and her physical parrying posture; she would work them out later on her own.

“Natasha, I, really am grateful. You didn't need to come here, I don't have much anymore. Just my shield, some pictures and the Avengers."

This was her major shortcoming, expressing emotions. It wasn’t that she didn’t have them, it was that there never seemed an opportune or constructive moment to let them be known; in her experience, things went far more smoothly if she just bypassed that bit. But Steve wasn’t exactly making that possible. He’d already singled her out and brought up a topic she was far less than comfortable with: his past. Her own was terribly spotty, and certainly not as clean as his had been, and she much prefer it stay an undiscussed topic.

"We, we should go. If you don't mind."

“I don’t,” she said shortly, grateful she didn't have to stammer through a more personal answer as she settled the helmet back on her head with a curt air of finality.

“Where to? Burgers…”

If it were Tony or Thor, her lure of food would have struck gold. Even Bruce seemed to enjoy the occasional fast food. Surely Steve just wanted to head back to the tower for some alone time, but the last thing that was probably healthy for him to do was dwell on it. She’d seen what grief could do to even the most level soldier, and she hoped he discovered he was hungry.

* * *

[Steve Rogers]

Steve was equally glad not to have a long talk at the moment, however, he let out a small air of relief when Natasha suggested that they go get something to eat rather than head back to the tower right away. Sometimes, the tower was just too unsettlingly modern for him. At least in other parts of the city, he'd still be able to feel like he was still in New York City.

He paused before answering Natasha, not wanting to sound too eager to steer clear of his current home, "Yeah, I think I could eat." He turned the bike's engine on and slowly began to ride out of the parking lot. A burger actually sounded rather fantastic at the moment as well, his stomach felt very empty at the moment. He probably could put down a lot right now, but would refrain from overeating.

Driving off into the street was actually a bit relaxing. Steve loved the feeling of cool air hitting him. Now that he had some clarity, he even realized that Natasha was hanging onto him. He hadn't been paying attention before, but now that he'd gotten so much off his chest, he could really thing,

She had small hands. Well, small compared to his hands, he couldn't help but notice. Really for the first time it was registering that Natasha was a woman. Obviously she was, but in the sense that she wasn't, 'just one of the guys', Natasha was an incredible, amazing woman.

'Shake those thoughts Soldier. It's not an appropriate time for this.'

[Natasha Romanoff]

* * *

Natasha all but exhaled in relief when he decided that her idea was a good one. Men – especially American men, she’d learned – seemed to always be more pliable after a good meal, and she hoped it would do him good.

As the engine fired up, startling a flock of pigeons out of the cemetery, one of her hands held onto the steel of the seat cage, while the other slipped naturally around him, fingers splaying out over his sternum. If it weren’t for the vibration of the engine, she’d have been able to feel his heartbeat. But instead the trip was soundtracked by the dull rush of wind outside her helmet and the car horns and city noise that quickly picked back up as they turned back into the densely populated metropolis.

The cycle stopped, and she paused for a moment, waiting for the engine to die down before planting her trainers on the asphalt and disentangling herself from Steve. She slid off the vehicle neatly, treating it like a fancy pommel horse, her legs easily clearing its seat as she used her hands to propel her forward.

If it had been anyone else, she’d probably have tried to crack a joke, at least a dry one. Even in the worst of times, she and Clint had always been able to share a comforting glance. But today was not the right occasion or company, and Natasha’s face was solemn, the same mask of composure she sported every day held unfailingly in place, her voice softer but no less insistent than it normally was.

“Come on. My treat.”

* * *