"You exhaust me, (Y/N), you know that?" Steve laughed, dropping to the floor of the living room in a panting heap, holding his side to calm the stabbing pain from running too hard. "I didn't think it was possible."

"Come on, Cap, suck it up! You can't let these guys see you bested by a girl? Not little old me?" you smirked. "You even said that I was no match for your super soldier speed, but yet here we are, with me crossing the finish line first."

"She's right, Cap," Clint joined in, "she took you by three seconds."

"How about you, Piet?" you challenged, nudging him playfully with your elbow as you passed by him on your way to the kitchen for water. "You up for it?"

"What's in it for me if I do?" Pietro asked, his interest piqued. He pushed himself up onto his elbow, watching you from the couch with a wide grin that matched the glimmer in his eyes, waiting to hear what you could come up with as incentive. When he saw his opportunity, he perked up even more and his voice raised in pitch in his excitement. "You know there's only one thing that I'll say yes to, darling."

"Really? A date isn't a date if it's accepted under duress."

"Says who?"

"Says the person that you've asked out every day since she got here," Natasha added with a groan. "You just don't know when to give up."

"Well it sure sounds like he's giving up now, Nat," you added, walking over to Pietro and kneeling down in front of him. "I haven't heard you take the challenge yet, speedy. Are ya scared? It's okay to say if you are. I won't tell anyone," you chided, reaching out to poke his shoulder, but by the time your hand raised up, he was gone in a silver flash. "Hey! That's cheating!"

The silver swirled around you a few times before coming to a halt behind you, feeling a shudder course through you at the warm breath against your neck as Pietro spoke again, "say yes."

"Fine," you relented, "but when I win this one, and I will, then I get to pick where you're taking me."

"Anywhere you wish, my love," Pietro smiled widely, already winning the only challenge that mattered to him. He got you to finally agree to a date after months of trying, and he couldn't wait to lose this race to see where you would choose for the first of what he hoped to be a long future of nights out with you.

~~~

Of course, the first date would have to wait, as the Avengers curse would have it; it had come to be accepted that any fun would always be interrupted by work, and this was no exception. It would be quick, the Captain promised, and even though he had given you the option to sit this one out, you were never one to turn down a job; if you didn't want to do the work, you wouldn't be there in the first place. You knew that Steve had his apprehensions about having you on the team at all, worried that you were too young, or too naïve and cheerful of a soul and that this work would rob you of that, but it made it only that much more important to you to do every mission asked of you just to prove him wrong.

"I bought a suit for our date," Pietro smiled, taking a seat next to you on the quinjet, "so I hope you've chosen somewhere nice."

"Coney Island."

"You can't be serious."

"I can," you laughed, working on the final straps of your parachute with unnecessary focus to avoid looking at the shock in his expression, "Steve recommended it. He said it's a great first-date place, though I'm not sure how he would know. Does Cap even go on dates?" you asked quietly, glancing over your shoulder. "I never see him do anything but work. What a downer."

"Why are you worried about what Steve does?"

"I'm not. Just an observation," you scoffed. "Wait, are you...are you jealous, Pietro? You are! How adorable is that?"

"It is not adorable," he argued, "I mean...I am not!"

"Quality save."

"Drop zone, sixty seconds," Clint announced from the pilot seat, barely audible over the loud gust of air into the cabin as the jet door began to drop. Steve pointed to you to make the first jump, his hand landing protectively on your shoulder as you took your place next to him.

"I'll be right behind you," he reassured, "remember to hit your homing beacon as soon as your feet hit the ground so Clint can track you."

"Got it." Taking a long stride forward, you peered out over the edge of the platform and sucked in a tight breath, but before you could take the leap, Pietro pulled you back and spun you around to face him.

"Be safe, printessa," he urged quietly, almost too soft under the sounds of the jet and the winds swirling through it. Your breath caught and your eyes widened when his lips met yours, though you didn't push away; you closed your eyes and readily accepted him as Steve looked on, finally having to break the two of you apart with an uncomfortable cough under his breath.

"Um...right..." you sighed, "safe...yes...okay."

You turned and prepared once again to jump, giving the Captain one final look back before your foot stepped out into nothingness.

"Don't look at me," he smiled, "I'm not kissing you."

~~~

Clint never received a signal from your beacon that day; it was as if your feet had never landed on solid ground once they left the jet. They searched for you for hours on end, one day into the next, and in seemingly the blink of an eye, two agonizing months had passed before they would get any hint on your whereabouts.

"Cap!" Clint called out, running at his fastest across the main building towards the gym, finding his teammate annihilating yet another punching bag. "Cap, I've got a signal! Look!" He held out his tablet, showing Steve the faint alert from what he believed to be you, panting with anxiety and an eagerness to get moving to find you once and for all.

"Breathe, Barton. Are we sure?"

"No, but it's not far from where the drop zone hit, so it could be her. We can't ignore it."

"It could be a trap too," he sighed, nodding readily in agreement, "so we better be ready. Grab Maximoff, he'll want to be there."

"You really think he's up for it?"

"You're kidding, right? The kid's been a mess for two months, Clint. If this is (Y/N), you know he'll never forgive us if he isn't there to find her."

~~~

Pietro's leg was bouncing at a speed that even Steve's enhanced vision couldn't track; he was so nervous that he couldn't stop moving, struggling with every passing second as if it were an eternity in each tick of the clock. His eyes darted from the navigation panels of the jet to Steve, to the door and again to Clint, over and over until he began to feel the start of a headache from his racing thoughts. All he wanted was to open the door and find you there, ready for him to take home so that he could keep you safe forever, but he knew that the plan in his mind was likely no more than a wistful dream, and he was scared at the prospect of what version of you they might see.

His attention focused directly when the jet finally came to a halt and Steve began to lower the door. The three men stood ready, Steve with his shield up and Clint's bow aimed, giving each other a cautious glance before heading out into the dense woods that they had chosen as their cover for landing.

"How far?"

Clint held up a scanner, waiting for the signal from your beacon to lead the way, nodding to the south when the screen came alive once again. "About three hundred yards that way. Woah, hey, hold up," he called out to Pietro, who had immediately broken into a sprint at his direction. "That guy's gonna get himself killed."

"Or maybe not," Steve sighed, pointing ahead to where Pietro reappeared with you in his arms only a matter of seconds later from their average-speed perception.

"I don't know what you two were waiting for," he smiled, holding you tightly against him, pressing kisses against your hair. "We can go now, yes?"

Steve held his arm out towards the jet with a faint smile and a curt nod, allowing Pietro to go ahead of him, followed by Clint with a groan of frustration as he passed by. "I flew the jet and landed unseen."

"Yes, Clint, expert work, as always. We can definitely go now, and the faster the better."

Pietro took you to one of the rows of benches on the side of the jet cabin, away from Steve and Clint to give him a moment alone, setting you down gently as if you could break at any touch and watching you intently. "Are you alright?"

"Oh, never better. Two months in hiding, waiting for your team to rescue you really puts one in a great mood," you huffed, closing your eyes and pushing back against the wall. "If I hadn't found a way to fix my beacon, who knows how much longer I'd have to be there."

"We looked, (Y/N). We've been looking every day."

"I know. I do, it just...I was so close to giving up so many times. I still am."

At the sound of his gasp, you finally opened your eyes again, seeing him now kneeling in front of you, his hands resting on either side of you with extra care to not make any uninvited contact. "What does that mean? You're safe with us again, (Y/N). I will not let anything happen to you, please believe me."

"I'm sorry, Pietro, but I can't afford to trust anyone other than myself anymore."

The rest of the flight home was spent in silence from everyone, the three of them trying not to stare at you but failing miserably, none worse than Pietro. Guilt seemed to be an attribute that he was picking up from working with Steve, and he couldn't shake the self-hatred growing inside of himself as he watched. He had quickly convinced himself that he never should have left that day; he never should have stopped looking, because no needs of his own were so important that they couldn't have waited.

The smiling girl was gone, replaced by this darker, dimmer, and pained version of you. It's to be expected after a few months of torture, but you had sworn to yourself to never tell anyone on the team about it; you knew that they would already be blaming themselves, and you couldn't put that on them too. Better to hold it in, you thought.

Once back at the tower, you secluded yourself into your room for days on end, only coming out and into the common areas out of necessity or by order of Steve or Tony; anyone else didn't carry enough rank as far as you were concerned. It wasn't for lack of trying, however, with Pietro stopping by for any little reason that he could think of, desperate to see even a glimpse of the you that he knew, and always walking away disappointed.

The sun would rise and set and no one would see you, and you had successfully sworn FRIDAY to silence regarding your whereabouts. You had found a way to climb from your window and down to another at the back of the tower, finding a long hallway leading to a room that looked as if no one even knew it existed. It was dark, isolated, and best of all, silent. But even in the tortured peace of your secret hideout, you knew that you couldn't hide forever.

When the first mission after your return came along, you begrudgingly agreed, as if you had any other choice. Details about the plan were sparse, other than it being a rescue, expected to be messy and fast, needing Pietro's speed and your aim that rivaled Hawkeye's. As luck would have it, the archer was nowhere in sight when you wanted nothing more than to sit this one out and you found yourself once again sitting between Pietro and Steve.

"Déjà vu is a bitch."

"We'll be as fast as we can," Steve answered with a nod, as if reassuring himself, "I wouldn't do this if I had any other choice, (Y/N)."

"Right, heard that one before. Shall we then?"

With a firm hand, you slapped the jet door panel to open it, your handgun firmly in your grip as you led the two men out and into the field. Pietro was acting twitchy and anxious to run, but he held back and waited for your signal; when it came in the sounds of gunfire, he hesitated as if leaving you again would end in the same result as before, suffering his own bout of déjà vu.

"Maximoff, you're up!" Steve commanded, waving him on to begin the rescue as he stood with you to defend the jet for your escape. A group of assailants were charging forward and Steve stood ready, taking a step forward until he was almost obstructing your line of sight in an effort to shield you.

"Move, Captain."

"Stay behind me, (Y/N)."

"I said move," you snapped, pressing forward and in front of him before he could argue any further. Your free hand reached over your shoulder and to a hidden holster resting there with another gun ready; you raised both weapons and began your attack, a master assassin doing the work of two people if you had been anyone else. One by one, they fell in front of you, efficiently dead; no reason to make them suffer. These weren't the ones who had made you endure for months, but they could at least assist in the payback.

Your movements didn't really feel like your own, as if you were watching your hands do their work autonomously. You heard Steve say your name a few times, but he never made a move to stop you, so you kept on. In a blind rage of pent up pain, you used the lack of mercy you had been given to show these men none. When it was finished, bodies strewn out across the field in front of you and Steve at your side, you thought you would feel better; you thought you would be satiated. Instead, you felt more broken than ever.

"You should go," you whispered, "help Pietro."

"I'm not walking away from you," Steve answered quietly and cautiously. He reached a hand up to touch your arm but quickly pulled it away before making contact. "Pietro is fine, and we can go soon. Why don't you go wait in the jet, (Y/N). We're all clear here," he swallowed thickly, surveying your work. "Very clear."

"You wait in the jet, Steve," you hissed between clenched teeth, fighting the tears that kept trying to spill from your eyes. "It's not the 40's anymore and I'm more than capable of taking care of myself."

"I never said-"

"(Y/N), was this...did you...this was you?" Pietro gasped, coming to a shocking halt in front of you from seemingly out of nowhere, not realizing that you had your arm still raised before you and your weapon drawn. "Printessa, you can stop."

"Don't call me that."

"Here, give me this..." he reached out, but it only made you reflexively stand taller, your arm straighter. "(Y/N), there's no one else to fight." He took another step forward, holding your gaze and taking another, and another, until the barrel of your gun was pressed into his chest. "I'm not fighting you."

"You left me there," you whispered, unable to look away from him. "You promised me..."

"I looked every day, we all did. I ran until I couldn't move."

"You weren't fast enough."

"I know," Pietro sighed so quietly that you almost missed it if you hadn't been so focused on him, and the pain in his tone didn't go unnoticed. "Believe me, I know."

"I don't know who I am," you finally admitted, both to him and to yourself, "I'm not this."

"Can I have the gun please? So I can get closer?"

You took a small step back, your eyes drifting down to the round indent in his chest that your weapon left behind. With a quick motion, your thumb locked the safety and you released your grip, allowing the gun to lower so that Steve could reach in and quickly take it before you could change your mind. With an uncomfortable clearing of his throat, he turned away, uncharacteristically meek and unassuming as he returned to the jet to give you a moment alone.

"I will not leave you again, darling. I promise that to you."

Your hand drifted up, tracing your finger over the mark that you had left as it began to fade away. "I don't believe in promises anymore, Piet." His hand came up to meet yours, wrapping his slender fingers around it with a gentle squeeze, pressing it tightly against his chest. When you didn't fight him, he took a step closer, releasing you and sweeping his arms beneath you to lift you into them. He held you so still and so secure, that you could hear his heart beating impossibly fast as you rested your head against his chest; even faster still when you wrapped an arm around his neck and accepted him.

"You will, (Y/N). I will make you believe again."