Chapter 2
There are a million things flying through Natasha’s mind when she boards the T’challa’s private jet. T’challa himself is not there to greet her, as he has a kingdom to run, but there’s a more than sufficient amount of Wakandan staff to ensure her comfort and safety.
She sits in one of the seats, and places Francis in the seat next to her.
She looks around her.
The private jet T’challa arranged is far too big for just one person. The seats themselves are spacious, and there are sixteen of them. They are arranged in four sets of four, and in between each set of four, there is a huge table.
Natasha really only needs one eighth of the table (for her coffee cup and book), as she doesn’t think she could eat much with the nerves she’s trying to suppress.
Reclining her seat back a little, Natasha closes her eyes and sighs.
She thinks about Clint.
No doubt is he going to be mad at her. He probably tried to communicate to her after she cut him off, but of course, failed. She wonders if he is able to get in touch with Laura and the kids again.
She thinks about Tony.
Will Tony forgive her for betraying him? It seems as though he will, as he forgave Steve (he did forgive Steve, right? They are all living together again).
She thinks about Steve.
Oh Steve.
Natasha knows how much Bucky means to him. She had seen Steve find him, only to realize Bucky was the Winter Soldier, and his old friend was gone. And now, having his old friend back but having to have said goodbye to him all over again must have been so hard on Steve.
She thinks about Bucky.
She thinks hard.
She thinks about his hands on her neck, choking the life out of her.
She thinks about the sudden flash of memory she had.
"You could've at least recognized me".
She thinks about how Bucky’s eyes widened just a little.
And she remembers.
“Get up Natalia.” The Winter Soldier growls at her.
The KGB recently recruited him to train them.
Natasha winces, her cheekbone throbbing from where he had punched her.
It is supposed to be an honour, really, to fight with the Winter Soldier.
It means that she is the best.
She stands up once more.
Quickly throwing a side kick to his lower abdomen, she attempts to scissor her legs around him.
But the Winter Soldier is too fast.
In one swift movement he knocks her to the ground, lifts her up by the neck and chokes her. His metal hand feels like ice against her skin.
She gasps for air, cursing herself for being so weak, so helpless.
And he could just kill her right there. The KGB allows him to kill the weak and helpless.
But he doesn’t. He lets go and stares at her, conflicting emotions passing through his face.
Natasha wheezes, breathing hard. She holds her bruised throat as she fall to her knees.
The Winter Soldier keeps staring at her, until, finally, he raises is hand slightly and Natasha braces herself for the blow she knows that’s going to come.
But all he does is gently brush the hair back from her face and the blood from her cheek. His eyes flit to her neck, and a look of sadness passes through his face so fast that Natasha almost misses it.
“Sorry,” he says, in a low voice.
It is then that one of the recruiters comes in to take her back to her room.
Natasha stands and obediently follows, but she looks back at the Winter Soldier, a man who just shown her compassion.
But he’s just standing in the corner, avoiding her eyes, looking confused.
And the next day he is gone.
Natasha jerks and opens her eyes.
“Miss Romanoff, would you like to have dinner before we arrive?”
Groaning as she rubs at her eyes, Natasha feels her face flush a little bit from the embarrassment that she fell asleep.
She had slept for a full five hours.
However, she did feel kind of hungry.
“Could I get a Spider roll?” She asks.
Ironically, they are her favourite.
“Of course,” says the flight attendant, “It’ll be just a minute.”
Natasha takes a long drink of water from a glass that was considerately brought to her when she was sleeping. She looks to her left and sees that Francis is still curled up, sound asleep. Standing up, she decides to take a walk around to stretch her legs.
She walks up and down the sizeable aisle, taking her time to pause at each of the large windows, overlooking the clouds.
She now remembers everything.
Bucky had trained her a couple times, but that day she had been distracted, sloppy, stupid.
He could have killed her, right then and there.
But he didn’t.
He must have gotten in trouble for that, because the next day he was notably absent, and no one said anything.
Does Bucky remember? Does he want to?
Natasha is almost glad he’s in cryo-freeze so she doesn’t have to face him. But, no. That is a cruel thought. Think about how Steve feels.
Steve. How in the world is she going to tell Steve? Maybe she won’t ever tell him. But Steve trusts her, and she trust him. And they’re friends, and from what she’s gathered, friends don’t keep secrets from each other.
Her head hurts a little when she sits back down.
I’m thinking too much, she thinks.
And so, Natasha eats her sushi and deviates her attention to a book as she waits for the plane to descend.
As the plane lands, Natasha starts to feel dread creep its way in.
What if T’challa was lying? What if they don’t want her there?
What if, what if, what if.
She gets off the plane, feeling a little awkward with nothing in her hands. The Wakandan staff insisted on taking her luggage and Francis to her room for her.
Thankfully, T’challa saves her by coming up beside her to lead the way.
They greet one another.
“It is late, but I assume you would like to see your teammates before you retire to your bedroom.” He says, obviously in a rush to do something else.
“Um, yeah,” says Natasha, “Do they know that I’m here?”
T’challa gives her a fleeting smile. “No, I thought we would surprise them. They’ve all been a bit down lately.”
Oh, Natasha thinks, Great.
She doesn’t want to take up the king’s time, and so she tells him to just give her the directions and she’ll find them on her own.
T’challa complies. “We are not too far away anyways. They should all be in the living room. It is just down to your left, then straightforwards. Tony does “team dinners” so they most likely just finished eating."
Natasha smiles at that. Sounds like Tony.
She follows the directions and pauses at the door. She strains her hearing and hears a low hum of voices. A laugh, - was that Clint? A chuckle, definitely Steve’s, and Tony asking if anyone wants to watch a movie, and Natasha is suddenly overcome by a feeling of warmth. A feeling that she’s home.
She opens the door.