Dresden, Germany

Spring 2016

Steve just watched in silence as Nadine stood at the small peninsula in the safehouse's—or bolthole, as she'd called it—tiny kitchen. Stripping, cleaning and reassembling her guns. It had grown oddly familiar. Not to mention oddly evocative of the reprieve a year before when they'd regrouped at the Barton Farm.

It hadn't been long after Bucky started goading Steve like his old self when Nadine had returned, bags of take-out in hand. Their meal had passed in relative, if somewhat tense silence, the only conversation proving to be a short, stilted back and forth spurred by Bucky's curiosity about how Nadine had gotten mixed up with the Avengers at all. Though, Sam's wry 'she just never left afterward' after Nadine's brief and entirely unsatisfying explanation of needing Natasha and the Team's help with a mission had managed to somewhat diffuse the tension, getting a chuckle out of everyone. Mercifully the silence that had resumed after their mirth quieted had been far more companionable.

Not that there was much call for conversation, their meal commanding the bulk of all their focus anyway. Nadine's conviction that they needed food was easily shown to be spot on as they were all proven ravenous with how quickly the mountains of local favourites she'd ordered had disappeared.

Followed shortly after by Nadine. Though Steve had known from the armload of trash mirroring her armload of food not long before that she was slipping out to dispose of it elsewhere—what abandoned building had trash, after all—it hadn't quite stopped the worry that had pooled in his gut, regardless.

She had been far more reserved during their dinner than she had been in the Beetle and Steve had to admit it concerned him. Nadine was a pro at hiding what she was truly feeling when she felt the need arose. And since she rarely felt secure enough to broadcast when she was unsettled, he had learned it was an indicator of a mix of comfort and how truly disquieted she must be for him to pick up on it.

He could definitely pick up on it.

And since she couldn't quite seem to bring herself to truly look at Bucky the way she did with Sam and himself?

It wasn't hard to guess what had her so unsettled. Though, he also suspected that was only one factor of many.

Heck, he was unsettled by what they would likely be facing in a few hours. Morning was coming quickly and with it the need to move on the facility where Bucky had been kept for so many long years. It went without saying why that was unsettling alone. Add in why?

Not to mention why even getting to Siberia in the first place was likely going to be complicated?

Steve was almost certain their mission was going to be challenged by Tony and the remaining Avengers, either here in Germany or in Siberia should Stark and the rest manage to track them. His instincts said it was inevitable. Somehow, Tony and Company were going to be able to find them and confront them. It was not a challenge Steve was eager to face. Though, if the confrontation between his team and Tony's had to happen? Hopefully it wouldn't happen until they'd already reached the abandoned HYDRA base. At least then they might be able to reason with the others better, having proof on hand why the doctor had done what he did...why what he was trying was bigger than the divide of the Accords.

There was a great deal to be unsettled over.

And that wasn't even counting some of Nadine's more personal reasons.

Like the fact that she was now in the same room as her daughter's father after so many years searching. The very man she'd long believed she had wronged even though, according to Bucky—and according to Natasha and what Steve himself had concluded based solely on what Nadine had revealed—she had been just as much a victim as Bucky had been.

So, he really couldn't say he was terribly surprised that, not long after returning from her errand, Nadine had fallen back on the grounding habit of tending to her firearms as she did when stressed or troubled...or scared. Just as she had back on the Barton farm, back when Ultron and the Twins had nearly torn the Team apart and Nadine had been no closer to finding Nina.

Only this time, she didn't work with her eyes closed as she had then. Her pale eyes were open, but this time they were sightless, staring off at nothing as her fingers flew, deft and unerring, over the weapons. She was lost within her own head.

It wasn't until Sam spoke that Steve realized he wasn't the only one entranced by her task.

"So what's that all about?" Steve looked to the former paratrooper at the murmured question, his friend's expression visibly worried. Steve blinked, faintly surprised by the question.

He knew Sam had witnessed Nat giving in to almost exactly the same impulse in Sam's kitchen years ago, now, and again in Fury's secret hideaway before their assault on the Triskelion just as he had long before he'd ever seen Nadine do it. Only, until Nadine, he'd never pegged it as anything but a routine of Natasha caring for her gear as she prepped for a mission.

"Nat's never told you?" Steve asked back just as softly. Sam spared him an unreadable look before turning back to Nadine. With a snap-click, her sidearm was completed and set aside and, without missing a beat, reached once more for her rifle. After a moment Sam sighed softly.

"All she's ever said when she does that is that it helps clear her head before a mission." Steve nodded absently. Nadine had told him something similar that day in the Barton's kitchen; that it was calming in that it was habitual, familiar...even comforting. Sighing himself, Steve straightened, looking briefly to both Sam and Bucky, noting that his best friend was watching her too with heavily veiled eyes.

"Natasha's done it for as long as I've known her, but it was Nadine who finally explained it...she told me once that, before she was even ten years old, she could strip, clean and reassemble over thirty different firearms with her eyes closed within a set amount of time. That was the expectation. Same for Nat." A soft sound reminiscent of a dismayed groan escaped Sam.

"Why'd she never tell me?" he murmured. Steve bit back another sigh. But before he could answer, someone else beat him to it.

"Because that place was hell," Bucky murmured, his gaze no longer veiled but haunted.

Steve couldn't think of anything else to add. Bucky had said it all.

And they all nearly jumped as another, sharper snap-click sounded from the kitchenette.

But as Steve looked back to Nadine he frowned. He'd expected her to reach for one of her handguns again, but instead she stood, hands resting lightly on her rifle, staring down at the counter.

Staring down at her silent phone. Almost visibly battling with herself.

At once Steve's gut clenched.

He knew what this was really about.

Sparing Sam and Bucky a final look, he stood, making his way to her side. She didn't even look up as he approached.

"You can call her, you know," he said softly, carefully pitching his voice so only she could hear. "Let her know you're okay." Nadine let out a long, slow breath, weariness shadowing her features.

"No, I can't," she countered just as softly. She looked up, taking in Steve's uncomprehending frown before sighing sadly. "It'll be tracked. Either by Tony or Nat..." she fell silent, her features once again becoming impassive. Not that she quite managed to hide the sadness in her eyes. "And with this mission? With what's at stake? I can't justify risking it. Not even for her. No matter how much I want to talk to her—no matter that I—I need to—" Her voice hitched, her shoulders slumping minutely. After a moment she looked up to Steve, her eyes pained and dejected. "I was going to tell her, you know...once we returned from London...before all this..." she murmured, her voice so low Steve nearly didn't hear. "I was going to go up to Cambridge and..." she trailed off, eyes once again turning sightless before sliding shut as her head bowed back toward the counter. Her pale hair—once again loose having long since been freed from the Nina-esque bundle she'd adopted for her food run—falling forward like a fine curtain to hide her features from him. Her fingers tightened on her rifle, her knuckles going pale with the force of it. The gun creaked beneath the strength of her grip.

Just as it hadn't been hard to discern that she wanted desperately to call Nina, it wasn't hard to tell what she was talking about.

Steve hadn't missed the way she had glanced almost imperceptibly toward Bucky. Steve's chest felt tight. She had been planning on telling Nina the rest of the truth about her father. About Bucky.

And now that plan was in tatters.

The realization hurt more than he could've anticipated.

Not knowing what to say, he reached out, gently loosening the fingers of her hand closest to him from their white-knuckled grip on her gun, and holding it tight in his own. A small, pained sigh escaped her at the silent gesture, squeezing his hand tightly back.

Much to his relief, some of the tension visible in her shoulders eased.

And his own breath hitched as she unconsciously began leaning toward him, her shoulder brushing against his chest. It took everything he had not to pull her into his arms, knowing that, much as he might not care that they had an audience, much as she might just agree she even needed the comfort the gesture would've offered, she would care. As much as she had come to open up around others, especially those she knew and considered friends, there were some instincts that were too deeply ingrained.

Instincts that still considered any potentially perceived show of weakness dangerous, no matter who she was with, be it foe, friend or family.

So he just stood there, letting her draw what comfort she could allow herself to accept from the subtle contact alone. And he laced her fingers with hers.

After a long moment she sighed heavily and glanced up at him. And he couldn't help the warmth that bloomed in his chest that the stress he'd seen mere moments before had faded, even if only a little.

But it hadn't diminished entirely.

He knew full well that wasn't likely to happen until she saw Nina again.

And suddenly his stomach was sinking, realization pooling like a lead weight in his stomach.

If she were to throw in with them?

Who knew when she was going to see Nina again. There was every chance that they might be stopped by Tony and the team he was likely recruiting for in their mission to get to Siberia. And if by some miracle they did manage to make it to a fight with the other Winter Soldiers?

Either way, there was a distinct chance not all of them would make it back.

He already felt guilty enough at calling Barton in and the archer had a measure of protection from getting arrested, at least, through his past as an Avenger. But Nadine?

It was then that he caught her frowning up at him, her grey eyes questioning. He nearly smiled. Of course she'd picked up that he was now the unsettled one.

After a long moment, he finally sighed. He had a feeling he knew how she was going to answer—or maybe that was just hope—but he had to ask. His honour and his growing feelings for the woman so close she was nearly in his arms urged him on.

"Nadine," he faltered for a moment before fixing her with a nearly apologetic look. "You can walk away from this, Nadine. You don't have to..." He faltered as she let out a low, slow exhale, her features growing impossible to read even if her eyes had widened minutely in surprise that he'd asked. He wasn't even sure if she realized she was doing it, retreating behind her mask. His chest suddenly felt tight. Though he wanted nothing more than to have her by his side, oddly comforted by the idea of her fighting next to him, he couldn't say he'd blame her for wanting to run, either. Just like he wouldn't have blamed Clint if he'd declined Steve's call to step up.

Because he knew she was considering it. She was too pragmatic not to. Noble as he knew her to be at heart, as she'd proven herself to be time and time again since he'd met her, Nadine was a survivor first and foremost. She'd been trained and conditioned to be almost since infancy. She was undoubtedly weighing all her options carefully, no matter her personal feelings and how they might influence her decision one way or another. And with the threat of the Accords and Nina's safety hanging over her as it did now? With her covers blown in a way even Ultron hadn't quite managed and it only a matter of time before Nina was similarly exposed?

Much as he might be tentatively certain she intended to stay and fight—not that his certainty entirely quashed the small shard of doubt pressing in the back of his mind—she had to be wondering if she should walk away. If disappearing would be the best option for her and her daughter.

And the idea alone that she was considering leaving felt like a knife in Steve's gut.

"Steve," she started to object, her voice barely louder than a troubled sigh, "I..." But she couldn't quite seem to bring herself to follow through, her voice faltering. He nearly couldn't breath for the weight suddenly pressing down on his shoulders.

"It's okay," Steve said softly, attempting to ease the nearly pained, conflicted expression beginning to surface on her delicate features even if it nearly killed him to do so. If walking away was what she felt she needed to do... His chest tightened, part of him rising up to insist he needed to fight, to convince her to stay.

That he couldn't bear the thought of possibly never seeing her again.

But right as he began to open his mouth, preparing to try and convince her that she was needed with them—and with him, another part that sounded suspiciously like Bucky asserted almost smugly—Nadine sighed heavily, sparing him a loaded, pleading glance.

"I can't choose, Steve," she finally said softly, "I can't. No matter how much part of me wants to—to run? I just...I can't. Not with what's at stake."

He almost thought he'd misheard for a brief, pained moment. And once what she'd said sunk in? Steve wasn't prepared for just how potent his relief was, no matter that she had simply confirmed what his instincts had already told him, irrational doubts aside.

She was going to stay.

And with the way she was looking up at him? Steve couldn't even be bothered to care that his frame sagged minutely as those said irrational doubts dissipated, letting out a slow, loaded exhale of his own. Unable to restrain the sudden urge to brush his fingertips across her cheek, Steve earnestly met her eye once more. And his heart thrummed at the wealth of conflicting emotion plainly visible in the pale grey depths. Far more than he suspected she realized she was revealing.

"I know," was all he could say back, reluctantly letting his hand drop back to his side.

Oh, how tempting it was just to lean in a little closer...

But regrettably—and sensibly—reason prevailed, and he restrained the urge. Now was not a good time.

That conclusion was quickly reinforced as, trepidation mixing with a trace of longing in her eyes, Nadine spared a fleeting glance over to where Sam and Bucky sat.

Where the pair of them were staring intently at each other across the coffee table, the deck of cards sitting precisely in the middle, still boxed, between them.

Steve wasn't sure whether to chuckle or groan. Really, the two of them were grown men...

Nadine, however, did succumb, letting out a small huff of amusement at their behaviour, her head shaking slowly. Steve felt his lips curl into a fond grin of its own accord as he looked back to the woman still leaning against him.

"A little tense for a casual game, I suppose," he offered, not quite sure if his attempt at levity fell flat or not. Nadine huffed softly again, the sound mixing with a hum of agreement.

"It's the calm before the storm," she said wryly, "so not entirely surprising." Though not without a trace of weary resignation, Steve noted.

He sobered, then, noticing that, now that she'd given in and finally looked to Bucky, she couldn't quite manage to look away, barely sparing him a glance to go with her faint, exasperated grin.

It left him with a sense of certainty about what needed to happen next regardless of the tension from their impending mission looming over their heads. After what had happened in Bucharest and under the overpass? Heck after her visible reluctance to elaborate on how she'd even come to work with the Avengers over their dinner—not that Steve could entirely fault her for that, given how heavily Nina had factored in to her motivations and the lack of privacy he and Sam had represented.

What Nadine and Bucky both needed was a chance to clear the air—in private—before whatever it was they would be facing come morning. They both needed to confront what happened back where she'd been trained and Nadine needed to tell Bucky about Nina. And time was running out to do that. Without needing to check, Steve had a feeling that, outside, the first blush of dawn was likely beginning to appear on the horizon. It wouldn't be long, he suspected, before Clint made contact to let him know their reinforcements had arrived in Germany.

As though reading Steve's mind, or at least, realizing the same thing about the time that he had, Sam chose that moment to stand, stretching briefly before circling the couch he'd been sitting on.

"Well, if it's all the same to you super-Enhanced people, the normal person here is going to take a nap. Because, unlike the rest of you, I do need sleep," Sam interjected into the general quiet of the room before excusing himself.

Steve nearly drew back in surprise at the timely departure.

If that wasn't a sign... Steve hesitated nevertheless in offering his suggestion, though. He didn't want to run the risk of mucking this up, and well-meant or not? What he was about to suggest had the potential to put Nadine instinctively on the defensive, something he didn't want to do to her. Sighing, he finally settled on a direct approach, knowing Nadine tended to appreciate it more.

"You need to talk to him." Nadine started, jerking almost imperceptibly next to Steve as she almost—but not quite—managed to restrain her reaction to his murmured advice. She swallowed nervously as she looked up at him, lips parting as though intending to say something; to object or agree, he wasn't sure. But after a moment, she leaned a little more deliberately into him, her chin jerking in a slight, apprehensive nod.

"I know," she breathed, her gaze dropping to their hands, Steve's longer fingers still laced with hers. "But I—" he frowned as she faltered, an ache beginning to bloom in his chest at how abruptly helpless her almost inaudible words sounded. After a moment, she inhaled deeply, forcing herself to look back up at him. Steve's breath nearly caught at how vulnerable she looked. Of course she was afraid to talk to Bucky, he silently chastised himself. He should have thought of that. Their shared past was a tender subject, after all, and that was putting it mildly. His chat with Bucky had viscerally reminded him of that fact... The urge to comfort her from before surged back to life, the desire to pull her into his arms resurfacing with a vengeance.

"I—I don't actually know him, Steve," she choked out, voice still so quite it could barely even count as a whisper. "I know the Winter Soldier better than I know Barnes—" She gasped in a breath, and Steve's chest was suddenly feeling tight in sympathy. Her grip tightened almost painfully on his fingers. Off across the room, he could almost feel Bucky watching them, no doubt catching that they had been looking to him a moment before. But Steve ignored it. In that moment, Nadine was more important.

And given his conversation with Bucky before dinner? He was certain Bucky would understand.

"And..." she faltered as she tried to continue, her eyes falling to lock on their still joined hands. "And I'm scared," she breathed, her voice threatening to waver as it dropped so low Steve had to strain to hear her. "I'm afraid what—what he'll say, what he'll think..."

Almost before he could help himself, Steve lifted his hand to cup her jaw, forcing her to meet his eye. The nearly skeptical expression that came over his face stopped her short with a sharp, shaking inhale.

"You and Nat built a profile on him once you knew who he was, didn't you?" he questioned, trying but failing to hide a fond smile. "Of who he was before?" Mutely she nodded, unable to quite meet his eye. He knew he was right. With his help, the two sister spies had built a profile on Barnes before his time as the Winter Soldier, hoping that by knowing who he was both before and after, they might be able to predict his movements better. Judging by the faint, rare flush rising to her cheeks, embarrassment was beginning to creep in to overcome her brief moment of fearful uncertainty. Steve nodded, satisfied. She did know Barnes as well as anyone could. Besides himself, of course. She'd just needed to be reminded, apparently.

She had succumbed to a moment of understandable panic. And it was surprisingly endearing.

Steve smiled reassuringly, thumb absently tracing along her jawline. "Then you know as well as I do that you have nothing to worry about," he said confidently. She forced in a slow, shaking breath, repeating the action until her breathing once more evened out. And she leaned into his hands, her lids fluttering even if the nervous tension that lingered in her dancer's frame didn't quite disappear as she rebuilt her usual composure.

After a long moment, she met his eye, determination growing to mingle with the remnants of her apprehension. He squeezed her hand in support as the corner of her lip tugged in an attempt at a confident grin.

"Then I suppose now is as good a time as any."

A/N: Thanks for reading!

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