Chapter Text
Maria awakes before her alarm. Like she does every day of her life for the last five years. (She used to have a reason to linger in bed or at least return to bed with a cup of coffee. She doesn’t anymore.) She climbs out of bed, switches from the shorts and tank she slept in to her running tights and a long sleeve athletic shirt, brushes her teeth, throws her hair into a messy ponytail, and puts on her sneakers. Grabbing a hoodie from a pile on the armchair in the corner, she pulls it over her head. Phone in one pocket and keys in another, she takes a moment to pause by the door, eyes lingering on a picture hanging on the wall.
Steve’s already waiting at the entrance to her apartment building. He nods a greeting which she returns with a grunt. Together, they set off and she immediately picks up the pace. Her sleep had been more disturbed than usual with a strange amalgam of memories and wishes and random things (like the fork and the pickled beets) and she tries to outrun them. Steve says nothing, merely keeping pace with her.
Their five mile run ends where it always ends: work. Happy is working the security desk and he waves Steve through the metal detector. While Maria empties her pockets into a tray and pushes it through the machine, she doesn’t follow Steve. Instead she spreads her feet slightly apart and extends her arms. Happy waves the security wand all around her person. The only place it beeps is near her neck. Without a word, she pulls a chain from beneath her shirts. (It never leaves her neck. Ever.)
“You’re good to go, Ms. Hill.”
“I’ve told you a thousand times. It’s Maria.”
Happy blushes slightly and ducks his head. “I know, Ms. Hill.”
It’s only when they are in the elevator that Steve finally speaks. “He’s got a crush on you,” he says with a grin. (This is a recurring conversation that amuses him to no end. The only person who was more amused was…no, she’s not going there.)
“It’s only because I’m unattainable.” Before Steve can make his usual crack about her having a high opinion, she continues, “Because I’m gay.”
“I think it’s also because you scare him. Some guys get off on that, I hear.”
“Oh, you do, do you?”
Before he can answer, the elevator doors open. Fury is waiting for them. Steve sighs, “Guess there’s not time for a shower.”
“No, we’ve had another report,” Fury says as they fall into step beside him, heading toward the briefing room.
“Where, sir?”
“Bucharest.”
****
Maria is ready to call Bucharest a bust, but Coulson insists the intel is good. She’s worked with him enough to trust that. But mostly she spends her days wandering the city, simultaneously drawn to certain places and wanting to avoid them. (She manages to stay away from the opera house and the restaurant while finding herself sitting on a bench in the park for long periods of time. She knows better than to go to the bar.)
It’s on the eighth day when something finally happens. She and Steve are riding in the limo, decoys for the real targets. Suddenly, there is a thump on the roof and Barnes swerves, fighting with the wheel to get it back under control. Before any of them know what is happening, the wheel is ripped from between Barnes’ hands.
“Bucky!” Steve exclaims as he is slightly lifted from his seat.
“We gotta - ”
“On it,” Maria interjects, shoving the door open. The car starts to slow (both from the fact that Barnes likely has his foot on the brake and that they are pinballing against parked cars as they travel down the street). She manages to pull herself back in before they strike another car. Luckily, the door comes off instead of jamming closed. “I see a gap.”
“Buck?”
“I’m going out the front,” he replies before bailing.
Maria doesn’t bother watching him (he’s an adult and can take care of himself) as she does the same from the rear. She hits the ground hard, skidding across the pavement. There is no time to inspect herself for injuries as a bullet whizzes by her head. She scrambles behind a parked car and pulls her weapon from its holster. There is another shot and another and then she dares to peek around the corner.
It’s him. The one they have been tracking for years. The one who ruined her life. Her first instinct is to stand up and stride toward him, firing bullet after bullet, until he lies dead at her feet. She really has nothing to lose. But a soft voice at the back of her mind says, “Don’t you dare get yourself killed for me.” So she squeezes off one shot and ducks back into her hiding place. A moment later, Steve drops in beside her.
“What do you want to do?”
“Kill this asshole.”
She can’t see him roll his eyes, but she can hear it. “I was hoping for something a bit more specific.”
“You go that way and I go this way?”
“Still not a plan, but…” his voice trails off. “See you around.” He’s gone down the street, drawing fire, but covered by the cars.
She takes this opportunity to move in the opposite direction. She’s flanked him. And realizes that this is not the same person. This one is shorter. Moves more gracefully. Fuck. Stopping him won’t be nearly as satisfying. Although maybe they ought to take him in and get some answers from him.
Before she can act, Bucky comes flying over the top of the car, knocking him to the ground. They grapple and somehow Bucky ends up on top. At least for an instant. Then he launches Bucky backwards over his head before climbing to his feet. Maria fires off two shots, glad to see him flinch. She doesn’t get another shot off because he is staggering forward. Looking past him, she sees Steve squeezing off another shot. He doesn’t even turn, just lifts his arm and fires. Steve jerks backward, gun cluttering to the ground, as he clutches his shoulder.
Maria immediately breaks into a run. She’s going to get him if it’s the last fucking thing she does, soft voice in the back of her head be damned. She shoves upward with her knees and collides with him around the midsection. They both go down hard. Her hands scrabble for whatever purchase she can get on him, fists flying. (She’s pretty sure she breaks something in her hand, but it doesn’t matter. Not now.) He recovers and flips them over, hands grasping for her neck. She grabs at his face, pushing him back, trying to get to his eyes. Fingernails hooking onto the edge of his mask, she pulls. hard.
Red hair.
Green eyes.
“Natka?”
The woman currently straddling her hips looks down without any recognition. Then she cocks her head to one side, still. A moment later, she climbs off of Maria and is gone.
“Maria!” Bucky yells. “Are you OK?” She tilts her head back to see an upside down Bucky half-carrying an upside Steve toward her.
She sits up. “It - it was Natasha.”
“What?”
“That - him - it was Natasha.”
Bucky eases Steve to the ground, still on alert. “What? Are you sure?”
“You think I don’t fucking know my own wife?!?”