Okay, I'm sorry for not updating recently. I'm really having writer's block rn and it's not helping the fact that it's REALLY HARD to write action scenes.

I can deal with fluff/angst moments but actions scenes? Yeah, not my forte.

Anyway, I updated today bc guess what? IT'S MY BDAY YAY!! I'm officially 19 yrs old (last yr of teenhood [is this even a word??] lol).

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( thirteen. shattered glass )

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As soon as they all met in the middle, all hell broke loose.

Natasha got distracted when Tony went for Steve that she wasn't quick enough to notice Lang closing from her side. In a millisecond, Lang was gone, and she was suddenly forced backwards but still managed to land gracefully on her feet.

Lang reappeared again to his full-size. "Look, I really don't want to hurt you," he chided, sounding awfully confident of himself.

Natasha almost huffed out a laugh in disbelief, settling to flash him a wry smirk. "I wouldn't stress about it."

Without warning, she brought up her foot to strike his gut. She grabbed his arm, twisted it and attempted to lunge at him by using her signature move (what Tony had stupidly called the "leg scissoring") but Lang disappeared. He took the advantage to twist her arm outwards, flipping her over and driving her down on the ground. She let out a grunt, landing on her backside and rolling over. Even though she couldn't see him, she did feel him trying to pin her arm behind so her thumb reached out to trigger one of her electric bites. Sure enough, it jolted Lang back to his full-size.

He reappeared, crashing onto one of the trailers. Natasha quickly got up on her feet, waiting for Lang to make his move. Now that she knows how he fights, she could easily outsmart him. Lang went to lunge at her the same time she brought up her arms to block his attack, but he shrunk in size again.

This time, Natasha didn't take any chances. She timed her moves correctly, sensing the right moment to bring up her foot the second Lang reappeared again and strike him down by a kick to the chest. Lang fell back, landing hard on his butt while he huffed a groan.

An arrow whirred past her, stealing her attention away from Lang. Without even looking back, she already knew who it was. She spun around and, sure enough, was now facing Clint. Eerie silence fell upon them, and while Natasha held a stern gaze, Clint was giving her a sardonic smirk. It was enough to loosen her up, returning the same smirk.

Then she went in for an attack in response, raising her feet to land another hard kick just like she did with Lang, but Clint swiftly ducked and stepped out of the way. Natasha spun around, whipping out her batons in the process. Both circled each other, the batons loosely swerving in her grasp. She swung them down on him but he avoided it again by an inch, spinning out of the way less gracefully than the last time.

"Got to say, I'm kind of hurt, Tasha," Clint blurted out mid-way, confusing her. She cocked an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. "How is it I'm the last one to know about you and Rogers?"

Shock briefly coursed past her, eyes widening at the statement. "I don't know what you're talking about," she deflected.

Clint brought his bow back in a long, fast stride, Natasha bent backwards to avoid taking a hit to her head. He retracted and swung his bow down at her again, but this time, she raised both of her hands to block his attack. She used the ends of her baton to curl it around his bow, turning it over to disarm him. But Clint followed her drift and grabbed her wrist, shoving her away.

"Yeah, there's no point in denying what everyone already knows," Clint pointed out sarcastically, referring to their previous conversation. "Even he didn't."

"I'm not sure if that thing you're referring to between us is still even a thing at this point," Natasha bit out.

She used the leverage to twist her body, spinning on her heel in attempts to bring him down with her. Clint was just as fast, reaching behind him to wrap an arm around her and strike her down on the ground. She laid flat on her back, throwing her arms up just in time to block him with her batons. They stopped.

"But we're still friends, right?" she breathed, noticing how the atmosphere around them was different compared to the others. Somewhat... lighter, in a way.

Clint simply smirked, the harshness in his features earlier fading a bit. "Depends on how hard you hit me," he quipped.

Natasha took the chance to seize him, raising both of her legs in the air and wrapping it around his shoulders. She shoved him to the side, he rolled away from her and got back on his feet. Clint pushed himself from the ground, coming in contact with Natasha's foot mere inches away from his face.

He almost flinched, waiting for the impending pain, only to never come. Her foot suddenly glowed red, both their perplexed gazes snapped to the side, seeing Wanda. Wanda's eyes met Natasha's with a forgiving look, and before Natasha could make anything out of it, she was suddenly tossed to the side. Her back smacked against a solid, hard object, before she came crashing down on the cold ground. She inhaled sharply, feeling a newfound pain spreading on her back.

Clint rose to his feet, shooting Wanda a look. "You were pulling your punches," she explained nonchalantly. He was torn between following her or going over to see if Natasha's alright.

Natasha's gaze briefly met his, eyes softening at the sight of Clint looking worried enough about her. She gave a weak nod as if to say she was fine. After a moment's hesitation, he nodded back and turned on his heel, running after Wanda.

She remained on the ground for a few more seconds, trying to catch her breath, before she hopped back up on her feet. As soon as she stood upright, she stumbled over her steps.

Her head began to spin again.

She shook the wave of dizziness off, shutting her eyes for a quick second before snapping them back open. Why the hell was her head pounding? She wasn't even hit that hard. She's been through worse impacts but this headache she's having right now was completely unnecessary.

"Um, Ms. Romanoff, you okay?" A voice asked her.

Natasha whipped her head around, eyes falling on Peter's form. Her head was hurting that bad to not notice this kid sneak up behind her.

"Uh, yeah." She brushed it off, already feeling the pain subsiding. She got a good look at him, his own black-outlined eyes zoning in on her. "You?" she lamely asked back.

"I'm good—kinda," Peter said sheepishly, letting out a breath. "I tried to web him up—the Captain, but he's too strong."

At the mention of Steve, her ears perked up. A flash of concern wavered past her eyes. "What did he do?" she questioned, knowing that this kid would not stand a chance against Steve if Steve did want to take him down. "Did he hurt you?"

"Not exactly—uh, I think not," he gulped. "He dropped a trailer on me but I got it."

She sighed, pursing her lips. She knew Steve wasn't really in this to hurt any of them for real, but she needs to try and stop him before it gets worse (well, worse than it is now). She needed to get to him while everyone's out there distracted, maybe this time, she could finally get her point across - even if it means having to fight him.

"Ignore Stark's orders about engaging a fistfight with Steve, okay?" She said, before Peter could protest, she continued, "Go help Tony, I'll take care of this."

And by this, she meant Steve.

Peter hesitated, still unsure whether to go with her as they had a better chance of taking Steve down together, but Natasha firmly shook her head. This was her fight, and her own talking to do. "I'm fine, Peter. Go," she said with a short smile.

"O-okay!" Peter responded, shooting another web and swinging out of the scene.

Natasha glanced around, eyes searching for Steve's form through the midst of chaos. Finally, she spotted him. He was above the tarmac, standing on one of the platforms of the control towers. Lang was beside him, until she saw Steve gave him an order and Lang disappeared in sight.

Alright, 'guess this is the best time to do it then. She raced towards the building, careful not to catch any attention from Steve as he could see everything from his location. She sneaked through the trailers, crouching down every now and then until she reached the stairs that led to where Steve was.

She sprinted up as swiftly yet as quietly as she could, coming in sight with Steve's back—he was on the other end, still not noticing her. One of his hands reach up to press his earpiece, and she heard him let out a long breath.

"Steve, we're through the terminal," he heard Sam spoke.

His eyes followed the figures beneath him, sprinting across the field. "Rendezvous on the tarmac," Steve responded back.

Natasha felt a certain amount of guilt creeping up her spine. She really didn't want to hurt him, even if she knew her electric discs or tasers had slim to none effects on someone like him, but it would still hurt.

The idea of her attempting to hurt him... that's what would hurt him.

But she didn't have any other choice. They had long promised before that whatever happens, their relationship was supposed to stay backseat if it meant getting their jobs done and save the world. And this was her, honoring that promise.

She didn't just want to save the world, she wanted to save everything.

She just needed to subdue him like any of her other opponents. She could easily take him off by surprise and forced some sense down his stubborn ass. And then everything will be back to the way it's used to be.

She could do this... right?

Wrong.

A blur of something red whizzed past her head. It was enough to throw her off course. Her eyes widened in realization.

Oh, shit. Sam.

"She what?" Steve exclaimed through his earpiece.

Well, show's over.

Natasha flung the electric discs in his direction. As she expected, with Sam's warning, Steve spun around, bringing up his shield just in time to knock them out of the way. His bright, blue eyes shone in a range of emotions. Shock. Disbelief. And finally — hurt.

Before she could let the vulnerable part of her speak for herself, she lunged at him. Steve used his shield to block her attacks again. She jumped, planting her feet on his shield, and attempted to shove him backwards, but he countered by using the force to push her to the side. Her boots screeched against the vibranium and she ended up skidding on the edge of the railing.

She almost fell over—no, she would've fallen over, if it weren't for Steve catching her on time. He wrapped an arm around her waist, scooping her over and away from the edge. Her instincts kicked in, one hand reaching out to cling to anything to balance herself. Her hand grabbed the strap on Steve's shoulder, fingers curling around it tightly.

In one motion, she was safe back on the ground, Steve's arm still wrapped around her waist while her fingers still curled around his shoulder strap.

They froze, both panting heavily as their eyes met again.

And it wasn't helping how her back was still pressed against the railing while her body was trapped between it and Steve's, at a close distance like this, they could almost feel each other's breaths fanning against their face.

Steve was the one who spoke first. "Nat, please." The hostility and anger present earlier when they spoke before the fight was no longer heard. Instead, he sounded rough, and tired, and desperate. "Let us go."

"I can't," she said, voice close to cracking.

"You know it's not him who did it. He told you himself, about the therapist and the set-up and..." Steve trailed off, eyes boring straight into hers, glistening with shattered hope. "You know he's not lying... you—you know him."

The obvious emphasis on the latter part of the statement made it clear for her to understand what he really meant by that. That she knows Barnes in a similar way that he does too, and for the first time since she told him the truth, there was no trace of bitterness in his voice.

God, he really was desperate to save him from all this.

Even if it meant leaving her behind.

The thought stung her.

"Then go to Ross, Steve." Natasha countered back, not missing the way Steve wallowed in dismay, but neither moved from the intimate position they were in. "Tell him what you know because we can't prove it unless—"

"I thought you trusted me," Steve suddenly bit out, jaw tightening at the same time his eyes started to burn up.

Natasha was gobsmacked, and then, all at once—goddamn furious. Wasn't he the one who just told her a while ago that he couldn't trust her anymore? Because of the secret she kept from him? And now he was taking advantage of that by turning the situation around?

No. No. This was way too far, Rogers.

"I do," she claimed, feeling a lump forming in her throat. That was the sad truth, that even if he hurt her, even if he didn't trust her anymore the way he used to before, she still does trust him.

And now, she's trusting him to not do this stupid mistake and walk away before things became permanently scarred between them and the rest of the Avengers.

But, hey, nothing said she wasn't allowed to throw the bomb on him while talking him down, right?

"Even if you're being a complete hypocrite when you kissed Agent 13, of all people—yes, I still do trust you," she bit out, being deadly calm through all of this. Something stirred in Steve's eyes, a flash of guilt, perhaps, but he clenched his teeth back. "And I'm trusting you to stop being stupid and stop this."

She knew this was pretty stupid considering their comms were still on, everyone could practically hear them, but, hell, neither of them was backing down.

"How did you know?" he asked stiffly, instead of asking the more relevant question.

"Does it matter?" she snapped back, raising a daunting eyebrow. His brows furrowed more and he started to flush red, both from humiliation and anger at the situation he was in.

Of course, he was ashamed to have done what he did in the heat of the moment, but only because he was too damn hurt with what Natasha kept from him. And now? She was calling him out in the middle of this fight, right where everyone can hear it.

He probably deserved this but he didn't need to deal with this now.

"That's different. I didn't mean to—"

Natasha cut him off, shoving him in the chest with her fingers. "How the hell is that different?"

Steve retracted, a conflicted look still present on his face. "Because I-I—" he let out a frustrated sigh, shaking his head. "I can't talk about this right now."

"Don't I feel the sexual tension all the way from here," Tony spoke through her earpiece, sarcasm dripping out of his tone. "Goddammit, Romanoff. Take him down, now!"

With the close proximity they were still in, with Steve's enhanced hearing, he must've heard it. "Do it, then," he bit out, smiling mockingly. "Arrest me."

"Christ, Steve, stop it."

"Make me."

Natasha clenched her jaw, doing as what she was told to do and used the distraction to lunge at him again, tugging him backwards with the hand clutching his shoulder strap. She activated her bracelet at the same time, shocking him enough to use it as leverage against him. Steve slumped backwards, a small cry elicited from his lips. Natasha hoisted herself up in the air, toppling over and swiping his shield away from his hands.

She headed face first towards the ground, using his shield to push herself up and roll over the pavement. She landed stealthily on her feet, looking over her shoulder to face him.

Steve swallowed hard, his cold, stern gaze now on hers.

"The last thing I'd ever want is to hurt you, you know that." Natasha suddenly said, noticing the way his eyes soften a bit—just a bit. "But I will if I need to."

Steve huffed a laugh, a dry and empty sound that haunted her to the core. "Don't worry," he said bitterly, inching closer to her, "you're doing a great job as you always do," he flashed a broken smile, "Natasha."

"For one second, can you try to think with your head instead of your ass?" Natasha lashed out on him, raising his shield defensively. "Look around you, Steve! All of you are going to be thrown in prison! And that's the best case scenario. I can't believe that you even dragged the rest of them into this-"

"What else do you want me to do!?" Steve lashed out back, eyes glistening with hot tears that were threatening to spill anytime.

"You stubborn son of a—"

Natasha cut herself off, sprinting towards Steve to lunge at him again for another attack. She swung her arm around to smack his shield square in his chest but Steve was ready for her. He knew how she moved. His hand reached out to hold the edge of his shield, gripping it firmly and wrenched it out of her grasp. He threw it to the side.

She looked at him in shock before she came back to her senses again. Alright, he wanted to fight clean? She'll give him just that.

Natasha propped herself up on Steve's back, her arm reaching out to headlock him when his hand caught hers. He grabbed her fist and tugged her down harshly on the ground. She landed on her back with a painful thud. Before she could make a move to stand up, Steve held her in place, towering over her petite frame. He pinned her arms above her head, flat on the ground.

She glared at him while he only smirked back.

"Ready to yield, yet?" he asked smugly like they always do when they were sparring. It should've made her feel something pleasant, something good, but the pain and anger in his eyes said something else.

Sure, she definitely felt something in her gut, but it wasn't the normal giddy feeling she get when she's around Steve. This time, it felt different.

It felt wrong.

"I could ask you the same thing," she hissed back.

Natasha brought her knee up to his gut. Steve hunched over, loosening his hold on her for a slight second. She took advantage of it, knocking him off her while she hopped to her feet. She sprinted away, but Steve was fast enough to grab hold of her wrist, in one hard tug, he spun her around and grabbed her from behind. One of his arms were securely wrapped around her shoulders. She reached out to try and pry his hands away to no avail—a wrong move because he'd now snaked his arm around her torso to keep her still, effectively locking her in place.

She struggled to get out but he wouldn't budge. "Steve!" she grunted, huffing out a frustrated cry while she wriggled in his hold. Her heart began to beat rapidly in her chest, and she could sense Steve was having the same problem too. "Rogers!"

But Steve paid no attention to her, still keeping his arms locked around her while she kicked and threw around.

Natasha hated this. She hated being this close to him. That despite everything that's going on, she still had this sudden urge to just spin around and kiss him breathless while he did the same to her.

She misses him so goddamn much.

And she hated how everything was supposed to be this way, to be broken and apart like she once was until Steve helped put her back the pieces together.

Ironically, he's the one helping her break the pieces apart now.

"I'm sorry," Steve suddenly breathed against her ear, sounding close to a defeated cry, "I'm sorry..." He's sorry for putting her through this, for having to do what he needs to do even if it meant sacrificing what's left of them. He needed to do this. Nothing can change his mind, not even her.

Natasha got what he meant, she tensed up in his hold as she felt a shiver ran down her spine. This was pathetic. No matter how hard they pushed themselves to fight each other, they knew that—deep down—they couldn't bring themselves to purposely hurt the person they love.

Yeah, this was going nowhere.

She blinked back the tears and the swallowed the ache in her heart. Her throat was burning, the lump becoming thicker and thicker that it was becoming harder to ignore. "Don't, Steve." Don't do this. Don't leave us. Don't leave me.

"Please. Let us go, Nat," he pleaded one more time. Let me go.

Natasha squeezed her eyes shut, swallowing thickly. She wasn't struggling anymore in his grip. She couldn't do what he was asking. She didn't want to let him go. "I can't," she breathed back, barely above a strained whisper.

Steve exhaled an exasperated sigh, feeling his shoulders slump in resignation once more. He still didn't let her go, though.

"You've got your gear, right?" he asked instead.

Natasha was befuddled, craning her neck to look at him as far as it allowed her to. "Why?"

"Do you?" he pressed, eyes bearing into hers.

"I do, but why are you—" She was cut off when Steve suddenly started to tug her backwards, her eyes darted around to see what he was trying to do. Her eyes widened once she saw the railing. "Rogers, don't you dare—"

"Don't hate me more than you already do," Steve suddenly said.

Before she could even ask what the hell was that supposed to mean — a loud cry was almost torn out of her lips when Steve suddenly shoved her over the railing, and she was suddenly plummeting towards the ground. Thanks to his warning, she reached out and pressed a button on her glove, seeing a wire shot out and latched itself onto the railing. It jolted, swinging her over until she smashed against the side of the building.

Still hanging mid-air, Natasha let out an audible groan.

Fuck, that hurt.

She slid down, landing back on the solid ground. Instinctively, she glanced up, locking eyes with Steve who was peering over the railing to check on her. Once he was sure she landed safely, he gave her a sad, lopsided—not a smirk but a smile, and turned around, disappearing from her view.

Natasha shook off the pain stringing past her right arm and side. She tried to focus, eyes leering back to where the fight was occurring out in the field. She spotted the hangar at the end of it all, about a hundred yards away.

She had a vague idea that that must be where Steve was heading. The problem now is, how were they going to stop them now? Obviously, talking some sense into him hadn't work for like the umpteenth time now, and taking him down wasn't an option too since Steve was as hard as steel. There's no way he's going to let them take him.

Running out of options, she decided to head back to Tony. On her way, she passed by Clint again, standing on the top of a stair car before hurling in the air to dodge a blast fired by Rhodey. Clint reached an arrow from his quiver, firing it at Rhodey.

Natasha hid underneath him, crouching down to eavesdrop on whatever their plan was.

"As much as I hate to admit it," she heard Clint speak through the comms, "if we're gonna win this one, some of us might have to lose it."

Her heart sunk at his words. She cursed under her breath. Clint, you idiot. As much as she wanted to blame Steve for all of this, Clint had a say in this, too. But she was definitely mad of the fact that Steve dragged him into this when he still had a family to go home too.

She let out a long breath, pressing her face to her hand. Goddammit, her headache was coming back all of a sudden. She didn't know what to do, anymore. Everything sounded and looked so wrong in every angle.

We need to be put in check.

She remembered Tony's exact words. The very same words that prompted her to go down this path, to choose this side no matter how much she tried to convince herself it wasn't a matter of taking sides-just a matter of what's right and wrong.

Obviously, she stood corrected.

It's run by people with agendas, and agendas change.

She heard Steve's voice echoed through her mind this time. She didn't want to believe him at first, she thought that, maybe, Rhodey was right—Steve was just being mildly prideful and defensive for a good reason, of course. She understood his ideals, after what happened with S.H.I.E.L.D and HYDRA, he had every right to think this way. It doesn't mean she thought he was right.

She chose to take a different path because she thought it's what they all needed. She thought it's what's best for them, because she knows what it's like when the people around you don't trust you anymore for the mistakes you've made in the past.

Natasha didn't want the Avengers to go through the same thing.

Obviously, Steve did too, but he had a different way in mind.

And now, what did the Accords do to them? It destroyed them. The government wasn't dumb enough to not know how this would eventually turn out. They knew how'd each of them think, how they'd act as soon as the Accords were presented—and they specifically knew how Steve Rogers would respond as soon as James Barnes were dragged into this mess.

Steve Rogers already proved time after time, that he wasn't going to be a pawn of someone's authority-he proved it back in 1945, back in 2014, and now... he'll prove it again. The government expected this. They took advantage of this theory, manipulating this disaster to try and control all of them to their liking.

Two of the senior Avengers already signed: her and Tony, and now, they were using this fact, using them as tools to finally be able to cross that bridge and eliminate the only threat to their so-called agenda — Steve Rogers.

Holy shit.

Steve was right. He always has been.

And now, he's the one about to take all the hits.

Natasha was too downed in her thoughts that she failed to notice Clint come up beside her, yet he showed no offensive nor defensive stance. So, neither did she. She glanced at him, guilt flooding in her eyes once she realized the grave mistake she made. It was too late to fix it now. They were all too late.

"Tasha," Clint called softly, gaze out in the open. His voice wavered, all signs of defeat was heard from his tone. "Make sure they're okay."

Her eyes glistened, forcing down the lump in her throat when she realized the severity of what he was asking. "Clint?" her eyes searched his.

Finally, he glanced over at her, face dimming. "I'm not going back... am I?"

She didn't know. She wasn't sure what was going to happen to any of them after this, truth be told. "I don't know," she admitted, reaching over to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder. "But I'll make sure they're okay," she promised.

Clint nodded, his other hand laying on top of hers to squeeze it back.

"Holy shit!" She heard Peter's voice sounded through her earpiece.

"Okay, tiny dude is big now. He's big now." That was Rhodey.

Natasha furrowed her brows the same time Clint frowned. "What the hell..." he muttered under his breath, eyes zoning in on the gigantic figure in the middle of the field.

Her mouth fell ajar once she saw what the fuss was about. Lang was several stories high, grasping Rhodey in his hand.

"Give me back my Rhodey!" Tony demanded childishly, swerving in a different direction to whip past Lang.

Natasha rolled her eyes, then stopped short as soon as she spotted two figures running across the tarmac towards the hangar. Steve and Bucky.

Before she turned away, she gently grasped Clint's arm again. "Hey," she said lowly, tearing his attention from Lang to her. "Whatever happens, I promise, I'll get you through this, okay?"

Clint looked uncertain and concerned at the same time, his brows crinkling together. "Okay," he replied, sounding hesitant. Natasha went to take off but Clint stopped her, garnering her attention once more. "Nat."

She paused, glancing back at him with eyebrows raised. "Yeah?"

"Be careful," Clint reminded, his jaw tightening once he followed what she was planning to do.

Natasha nodded once and he let her go, pulling another arrow out from his quiver to prepare for fire.

"Okay." She heard Tony speak again through the comms, sounding frustrated. "Anyone on our side hiding any shocking and fantastic abilities they like to disclose? I'm open to suggestions."

Natasha ignored him, instead of going down her original path leading to Tony, she changed course and started to head towards the hangar—planning to cut Steve and James off by getting there first.

Lang was a good enough distraction for—not just Tony's team—but for the rest of them. No one even noticed her sprinting across the tarmac. She reached the hangar before anyone else did. She sneaked inside, and sure enough, there was one quinjet present — Steve's only ticket out of here.

A series of rumbling sounds made her look behind. She ripped her earpiece away, shoving it in her pocket. One of the cell towers started to crumble down accompanied by a golden light. Vision. But it stopped mid-air just before it hit the ground, a cloud of red energy and mist surrounding it. Wanda. She held it up long enough for Steve and James to slid underneath it, getting back on their feet and head towards the quinjet.

Which is where exactly she was.

Both pair of eyes fell on her as they screeched to a stop.

James was evidently staring at her, possibly trying to gauge any sort of indication as to what she might be planning to do next, but she kept her own set on Steve.

Words were long overused, even if their eyes were saying so much, both didn't know where to start. Their time together was long spent up, and this was where it's going to end.

"You're not gonna stop," she deduced, letting out a long breath while her heart started to beat wildly in her chest.

Steve's answer was quiet, desperate yet sure. "You know, I can't," he said lowly.

It wasn't just her heart racing this time, her mind was too. The clock was ticking, whatever she decided to do now would pretty much decide how the next things are going to turn out for all of them. She couldn't stop Steve, not when James was here with him too, and even if she did try—it just... it just doesn't feel right.

But if she did let them go, then what's going to be the end game for her? She'll be thrown in with the rest of them, and she'll be forced to live in the shadows like she once did—a life full of deceits and lies. And Tony... she could kiss her already-strained friendship with him, goodbye.

Did she want any of this? No, of course not.

But then again, when do they ever get what they want?

No matter how much of a shit Steve's acting for the past days, she knew he still meant good. He was only doing what he thought was right, even if it meant the weight of his sacrifices were greater than the outcome. 

And still, after everything they've been through—every fight, every kiss, and every tear shed—she knew that, deep down, he was still the same Steve she fell in love with—the same Steve that would trust her blindly, that wouldn't leave her to die under the rubble. 

If it was the other way around, and if it was down to me to save your life. Would you trust me to do it?

I would now.

Natasha knew, herself, that she'd do the same for him. She believed in him, she trusted him, and she loved him. No matter how fucked up things are right now, she still does.

And he was worth the consequences, whatever that might be.

Natasha spotted a shadow of a figure from a distance, moving closer to where Steve and James were. She inhaled sharply, having already made up her mind and lifted her wrist. She looked at Steve dead in the eye.

Green meets blue.

"I'm gonna regret this," she muttered lowly, yet loud enough for Steve to hear.

The way his face fell and his eyes glistened—begging her not to do what he thought she was about to do—was enough to make her waver. Her eyes brimmed with tears, and she tore her gaze away from his, redirecting her aim to his left instead, and fired.

The electric bite whizzed past Steve and James, hitting T'Challa square in the chest instead. He convulsed, feeling the jolt of electricity coursing through his body and was temporarily incapacitated.

Steve's eyes snapped back to hers, wide and perplexed at the same time. Natasha averted her gaze from T'Challa, landing back on Steve's. "Go," she urged.

He swallowed harshly, being only able to form a nod in response. For a split-second, he stayed rooted to the spot, not wanting to take his eyes off her while his lips twitched upwards to a relieved smile. Then he was running, going farther away from Natasha while he and Bucky headed towards the direction of the quinjet.

It wasn't until he was halfway there when Steve skidded to a stop, spinning on his heel to turn back to the other direction he just came in. He heard Bucky shouting at him, asking him what the hell was he doing, but he didn't give him an answer.

Instead, he hurled his shield straight towards T'Challa, sending him flying about a mile away from where they stood. 

Natasha turned around—a bewildered look on her face—and she hadn't got the chance to form a proper response because Steve was suddenly flying past Bucky and running back to her. He grabbed her arm and crashed his lips against hers.

His free hand reached up to caress her face, kissing her hard and pouring every cent of his feelings out to her. She returned the kiss with equal fervor, feeling something wet trickle down her cheek as she gasped a soft cry. The world around them ceased to a stop. Even for just this moment, it—this still felt right. It was a kiss strong enough to ease their pain; a kiss promising enough to say that she was still his... as he was still hers.

Steve pulled away from her, the warmth and heat all boiling down to a stop. A shiver ran past her spine when the sudden emptiness engulfed her. He stared into her eyes, searched for what he was looking for, and when he finally did—a gush of relief flooded his dim-blue irises.

"I'm sorry," he breathed against her, wiping the tear away from her stained cheeks. "I'm so sorry." 

I love you.

But he couldn't bring himself to say it. He hurt her too much, and she didn't deserve to hear that right now. Even if he knew that she knew, he didn't say it. Not when the timing's all wrong.

By the time Natasha came back to her senses, he was gone. His retreating form disappearing into the quinjet along with James. She was rooted to the spot, stunned in silence at what had just happened. Her eyes were damp and red, and she reached up to wipe the stain on her cheek. 

T'Challa was going at them again but he was too late. The quinjet was already in the air, Steve and James safely inside it. T'Challa leaped up to grab hold of the wheel, but it retracted and he lost his grip, tossing him to the ground.

It was a surprise how she still managed to find the words to speak. "I said I'd help you find them, not catch them. There's a difference," Natasha stated, gulping as he turned to her.

T'Challa wasn't amused the slightest bit. "You made a grave mistake, Ms. Romanoff," he growled, not caring of her response and left her there.

There was a lot of things going on around here but this time, she was certain, what she did was anything but a mistake.

Natasha subconsciously reached up to clasp the necklace around her neck only to come in contact with bare skin instead. She tensed up, slight panic filling her gut as she realized the necklace was missing. It must've fallen off sometime during the fight.

She let out a breath, sounding broken and lost.

She already lost Steve.

And now, the the only piece she had left of him was lost too.

A sudden jolt of pain rang through her head again, it spread like wildfire. Her fingers reached up to rub her temples, trying to numb the pain away. From the corner of her eye, Tony suddenly flew in, landing in front of her with a loud clang. 

And he was angry all right. Downright furious.

"What the fuck, Natasha?" he seethed, taking a step near her.

The world around her started to spin. Tony was speaking, spitting out words she couldn't understand anymore because everything became a blur.

Then she was falling, plummeting into a pit of darkness. The last thing she saw was Tony's wide furious eyes, catching her before she had passed out.

»»————- ☆ ————-««

good news: i finally know how this book is going to end :)

this chapter is making me feel a lot of things that it's probably one of my fave chapters in the book. thoughts about what would most likely happen in the next chapters?

and especially that (cough) cliffhanger?