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It’s two in the morning. Two twenty-seven, to be exact, and she’s watched every minute pass by of the past three hours, staring at the screen of her phone in the dark room. It’s completely silent, which should be a good thing. For at least one moment, no one is actively chasing her or trying to kill her, and for the most part, right now she is safe. It’s what she wanted, or at least what she told herself she wanted. To be left alone, to be able to slip back into the cracks, to go back to the life that she been trained to have.
Not that she’s really doing exactly that, although she had been planning to do exactly that not that long ago. Just over a month ago she had been planning to move into a trailer far off the grid and live out the next few weeks or months or years. But that of course had all gone terribly wrong.
She watches another minute tick by. Maybe she should actually go back to that life, the one she has been trained to have. It would probably be safer. There is no safety in numbers when you’re on the run. One is the safest you can be. Two can be favorable, if you really trust the other person. Someone to watch your back. Someone to help keep you both safe. But three? That’s just reckless. The Red Room would never let them go undercover in groups of three or more. That was just asking for trouble.
Another minute.
She could leave. Right now. Get out of bed since she’s not sleeping and probably won’t be sleeping any time soon. It would take less than two minutes to throw the very few things she needs into a bag. She’d leave the burner phone behind on the bed and be long gone before anyone knew. And disappearing was what she was good at. They wouldn’t be able to find her.
Another minute.
Maybe she should leave a note. Tell them not to worry and that it’s better this way. She doesn’t want to give them any clues, but she knows them. Even if she makes it obvious that she left on her own terms, they might worry she didn’t. And if they start trying to find her, who knows how much trouble they could cause? She’d told them about Yelena, Melina and Alexei. Hell, they even knew about Rick Mason. Was it really so unlikely they would go to one of them if she just disappeared without a word?
Okay, so she could leave a note, explain how this is better, how not to look for her, how not to contact anyone else.
She watches another minute tick by.
Maybe while she’s at it, she should leave them a list of tips. After all, of the three of them, she is the one who knows how to live life on the run the best. She is the one who knows how to stay off the grid, how to keep moving so no one finds you (and even she failed spectacularly at that the last time she tried, but she’s not going to think about that. It was not her fault the Red Room had still been operating and she had to take it down). But the two of them together without her help?
She’s fairly confident that they would be fine no matter what happens. After all, Steve still is Captain America. And yes, she knows where they locked the rest of the team up (of course she does; she helped Steve free them) and yes she knows they probably wouldn’t hesitate to take out Bucky or Wanda, should the two of them be found, but Steve is Captain America and Sam went to war for the country. Would they really lock them up forever or worse? They’d probably just be given some sort of probation, like Clint and Scott got, which might even be the best thing that could happen to them. Maybe Steve and Sam could go back to the Avengers Compound, be assigned to have Tony keep an eye on them. Have to do community service to get back into people’s good graces. And be beloved again.
Another few minutes have gone by. She should get up now, start packing, slip out the door. After she writes the note. After she writes some tips. Because sure, they would be fine. No one is going to execute Captain America. But still, she can’t just hand them over. She could never do something like that, and leaving them without help would basically be like handing them over to the authorities. They are too reckless. Too good-hearted to stay still when they see someone in trouble. They aren’t calculating or ruthless enough to think only of themselves. Not like her. One person walking their dog in the path of a speeding car and Steve Rogers is on the news being hauled back to the United States. And then what if she’s wrong? What if some asshole trying to prove something does decide they should execute Captain America? Or make an example of him? Then what? She’d have to go rescue them, risk getting caught herself. Because she couldn’t just leave them there. And what if she failed? Did she really need the deaths of Captain America and Falcon on her conscious? No, she needs to leave them tips for surviving without her. A lot of tips probably.
She hopes Steve remembers what she first taught him, back when they went on the run the very first time (and no, she is not going to think about why this seems to keep happening to her. There is no time for that). Like kissing in public makes people very uncomfortable. Or don’t walk too fast. Keep your head up. Don’t look like you’re hiding.
And that was just to make it through a mall. How is she going to keep them safe for, what? Weeks, months, years? What does happen after this? Her stomach tightens as she realizes that there is probably no way that Steve and Sam are ever going to live their whole lives off the grid, especially if she isn’t there. Maybe she needs to add a message to warn them about how they can never, ever let their guard down? Or maybe she needs to give them a way to contact her in case they start second guessing their new life?
No. She can’t do that. That would defeat the whole purpose of her going away alone.
Three more minutes tick by.
Maybe she could contact them. In a year or two. Or at least a month or two. It’s not like she would have any problem tracking them down. One day, she could just slip a phone into their pocket while she walks by them down a street. Or put a note in their fortune cookie.
But what if something happens to them and she’s not paying attention? She’s going to have to pay attention to them and not let them get too far away from her. Maybe she could live off the grid but still close enough that she could help them if they still need it.
Her phone vibrates in her hand. So unexpectedly she actually yelps and drops it on the comforter, her heart rate picking up at the same time.
She scolds herself as she picks her phone back up. She has a message:
30 out :)
It’s from Steve. And he did just as she asked. No mention of Wanda, which means she’s safe. They had talked about the four of them all going on the run together, but Wanda’s not ready, not after everything that happened to her at the Raft. But Sam had a contact, an old friend who runs a safe place far away from most of civilization. The friend said he could help.
So, Wanda is safe. Which is good. Because if three people together on the run is foolish, four is just dangerous. Even with a Quinjet that can’t be detected by sight or radar. Maybe she needs to add to the note about how dangerous everything is going to be if they ever bring Wanda back into the fold. The three of them together without her around to help them? Natasha is already worried.
She puts her phone down. She has twenty-eight minutes to pack her bag and write them a goodbye note and a list of tips. She can do this.
--
Twenty-eight minutes later, exactly, the front door opens. She’s curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, waiting for them. They both flop down next to her and stretch their legs.
“We didn’t think you’d be up,” Steve says.
“He didn’t think you’d be up,” Sam says. “I knew better.”
Natasha smiles. “Couldn’t sleep,” she says. “Not when you boys were running around all over. I kept imagining all the trouble you might have gotten yourselves into while I wasn’t there.”
“Steve thought you might have been planning your getaway,” Sam says. He says it with a touch of humor in his voice, the laugh right there, but she knows as soon as the words come out that he’s partly serious.
She turns her head to look at Steve. He puts a hand on her leg and squeezes gently.
“We know how much you’re giving up to stay with us,” he says seriously.
She wonders if she should pretend otherwise. It would be so easy to lie. Second nature really. It’s what she does best.
But not anymore.
“I thought about it,” she says, and she smiles in a way to let them know she’s telling them the truth. “But I couldn’t actually make myself do it.”
“It’s because we’re so much fun,” Sam says. “And you would be lost and bored without us.”
“Or maybe it’s because you’d be locked in a jail cell and then executed on national tv without me,” she replies.
“Ouch.” Sam places his hands over his heart. “You have that little faith in us?”
“She’s just paranoid,” Steve says.
“It’s not paranoia if it’s true,” she says.
“I don’t know,” Sam says. “I mean, if I recall correctly, you were the one who got arrested last time we were apart. Steve and I were just fine.”
She scowls at him. “You were locked up in The Raft,” she says. “Locked up. That is hardly fine. And Steve was not going to get you out without me.”
“I’m just saying.” Sam holds his hands up. “That only one person on this couch was actively arrested during the time we were apart.”
“Only one us was locked up for the whole time, and it wasn’t me,” she replies, and Steve laughs.
“I think what you’re both trying to say,” he says. “Is that I win. I am the best person of the three of us at living undercover.”
“No,” Natasha and Sam say, both at the same time.
“That is definitely not what we are saying,” Natasha says.
“Not even close to what we are saying,” Sam says.
Natasha looks at Sam. “I don’t think he’d survive without us,” she says.
“Not even a day.”
“And yet I managed the whole time,” Steve says smugly. “You both are just jealous.”
“We are not,” Natasha says.
“No, dude,” Sam says.
“It’s fine,” Steve says. “You don’t have to say it for it to be true.”
Natasha rolls her eyes. Sam scoffs. Steve squeezes her leg again.
“I’m glad you were still here when we got back,” Steve says to her, back to being serious.
She shrugs. “Like I said, I couldn’t make myself leave. It feels like some sort of personality defect I’ve been infected with.”
Sam snorts again. “It’s not a defect,” he says.
“It feels like one.”
“It’s called having friends, Natasha,” Sam says, and he’s smiling now. He throws an arm around her shoulders and squeezes her.
Part of her wants to protest. She doesn’t have friends. They aren’t friends. They are working together for the benefit of all three of them. They are better together than apart, despite the many flaws in the plan.
But she doesn’t say this. Because Steve and Sam are laughing and hugging her, and she feels warm and happy in between them on the couch, and she has a horrible feeling they are right. Somehow, someway, she has made friends, and that is a truth she can no longer deny, no matter how much she might want to.