Dresden, Germany

Spring 2016

Understandably, given how emotionally draining what they had talked through had been, Barnes had volunteered—through the simple action of disappearing downstairs with little more than a single loaded glance to Steve—to take over watch after Steve had informed them that their time at the Nadine's safehouse was coming to a close. She really couldn't blame him. Nadine was craving time alone herself and she didn't have nearly the excuse that Barnes did. It wasn't surprising in the least that he would feel overwhelmed with everything that had been said, still recovering from HYDRA's programming as he was.

And that hadn't even been all of what she'd needed to say. Guilt churned in Nadine's stomach, but she pushed it away.

As much as she might have liked nothing more than to tell Barnes about Nina, to get everything out in the open, as she'd watched him disappear down below, it had struck her that it was perhaps for the best that she hadn't.

Nearly overwhelmed as he'd been just confronting their shared history? What had happened between them? Her chest clenched at how potentially damaging it would have been to him to suddenly drop that he had a daughter into the mix on top of everything else. She couldn't bear to think how distraught it would've made him, just knowing what little she did of the man. How noble and decent he was. How compassionate. It was no surprise, really that he and Steve had been so close given how similar they were in those key ways.

How could Barnes have even hoped to properly process that he was a father before what they faced if she had revealed Nina's existence to him? After how affected Steve had been after he'd found out about Nina and her connection to his friend? She could only imagine how much more it would affect Barnes given that Nina was his child, not just his friend's.

She couldn't quite fight the instinct that it would hurt him to learn that he'd had a child all this time. That he'd been robbed of yet one more thing, a precious thing, because of what had been done to him. In his shoes? Nadine knew she'd be devastated had Nina been kept from her...stolen from her, even.

She couldn't fathom the depths of her own heartache had Nina been kept from her, so how could she hope to comprehend what he might feel?

The fact that it had been to protect Nina—and to some extent, Barnes as well, she supposed—was beside the point.

Her stomach churned at the thought. No, he needed his head for what was to come. She'd already overwhelmed him enough with her own lack of self-control. So Nadine couldn't justify the risk of distressing any further just now, no matter how strongly she felt he deserved to know. And while she was cautiously optimistic that he could've handled it given how he'd recovered himself before Steve reappeared just moments before, the revelation of Nina's existence would've still left him reeling.

If not worse.

It was a risk none of them could afford.

Especially Barnes.

So as much as her gut physically ached with how much she hated keeping Nina from him, that there was a chance the revelation could fracture or even undo the progress he'd made in rebuilding his mind was a reality she couldn't afford to dismiss. Much as she wanted to tell him about his—their daughter, she valued his life more than his feelings.

She needed him to live for Nina's sake. And Steve's. Even for hers, she could admit.

And for his own sake. It was the least he deserved.

She had already been resigned to the likelihood that he would hate her for her actions in the Red Room, after all. She could live with whatever consequences came from her holding Nina's existence a secret a little longer so long as it meant he lived.

She would tell him once they made it through this. And if he was the man she was certain he was? He would understand...

...she hoped.

Not that the thought helped lessen the sharp knots of guilt gnawing away in the pit of her stomach.

Sometimes she hated how easy it was to fall back on reason at the expense of her personal feelings...

...but it had to be done.

Next to her Steve shifted, looking to her after similarly watching his friend disappear downstairs.

"How did it go?" he asked gently. Nadine looked up at him, her heart nearly skipping a beat at the genuine concern written on his face.

"I—it was..." but she faltered then, unable to wholly contain her astonishment that it had been..."good." Only for a small smile to quirk at her lips, earning a curious expression from Steve. "I'm not even entirely sure what I expected," she said after a heartbeat's hesitation as she searched for the words she wanted. "But it wasn't... He doesn't..." she faltered again, her throat threatening to close with a resurgence of raw emotion. She nearly jumped at the feel of his fingers smoothing down her arm to enclose her hand with his. Instinctively, she squeezed his fingers, grateful for the comfort it offered. Her breath caught as she met his eye, again, taking in the discerning light in his ocean-hued eyes.

"He doesn't blame you," Steve said knowingly, completing the thought she hadn't quite been able to vocalize past the lump in her throat. Mutely she nodded, still truthfully shocked. She really had expected...

"And Nina?" She froze then at Steve's next soft-spoken question. There was no mistaking what he meant. She glanced impulsively over to the stairwell Barnes had disappeared down. "How did he take it?" She swallowed thickly, unable to meet his eye. But she could easily imagine the concerned look that was likely overtaking his features the longer she didn't answer. She could practically feel it. She sighed heavily, the weariness that her conversation with Barnes had left her weighing all the heavier as her guilt thickened.

"I—I didn't tell him..." she finally admitted when the silence grew too oppressive to bear. She barely restrained a flinch as Steve stiffened next to her.

"I—Nadine, why not?" The confusion—the trace of accusation—in his voice stung. Instinctively, Nadine began to lean away at the murmured question, but his hold on her hand held her in place. And not just because it physically held her in place; in that moment she craved the comfort of the contact. Inhaling a slow, bolstering breath—not that it truly helped—she glanced up to Steve.

"I couldn't," she confessed, projecting as much confidence as she could into her voice. It wasn't much. Immediately Steve was opening his mouth to object, but Nadine continued before he could, finally pulling free of his hold to lay a restraining hand on his arm even as her voice turned involuntarily sad, "not yet. Not now." He looked down at her with confusion, her tone visibly giving him pause. She sighed again, looking aimlessly around the former break-room as she struggled to find the right way to explain before her gaze settled automatically on the doorway Barnes had disappeared through.

"It's not really the best time, Steve," she said softly, unable to make herself care in that moment how weary—and how troubled—she sounded. "With what we're about to go up against? Who we're facing? Can you honestly say you wouldn't be distracted if, in the hours before, you were to find out you had a daughter that had been kept from you for eighteen years? To protect her from you?" Her voice threatened to break then, forcing her to pause long enough to steady herself. A long breath later she continued, tone brisk for all that it was resigned as she forced herself to meet his eye. "No, you'd barely be able to think straight. And he's still fighting everything they did to his mind on top of it.

"It's not the right time," she finished softly. Steve sighed heavily, his feelings difficult to decipher as his hand rose to massage the bridge of his nose.

"He deserves to know, Nadine," he insisted, his voice betraying a frustration that easily mirrored hers. Nadine couldn't help it. She bristled, her eyes narrowing on him in disbelief.

"You think I disagree?" It came out far sharper than she intended, forcing Nadine to rein herself in...not realizing the way her features grew impassive as old instincts took over in doing so; to say is was a tender topic was putting it mildly indeed. "You think I don't want him to know?" His hand fell from his face as he froze, a concerned frown creasing his brow as his gaze slid back to her. "Don't think I haven't thought about it every day since the day she was born, or every time I see him looking out at me from my daughter's face. Don't think it doesn't physically hurt to keep it from him when he's right there," she said coolly, gesturing tersely toward the couches where she and Barnes had been sitting mere minutes before, her guilt and regret surging up to catch in her throat and wake that damned prickle behind her eyes. She forced it ruthlessly away, sucking in a slow breath in a futile effort to banish the tight knot of conflicting emotions tremoring deep in her chest.

"Steve, I—" she faltered then, the impassive front she'd instinctively been trying to maintain cracking. It hurt how helpless she felt, stinging in a mirror to the feel of her nails cutting into her palms. She sighed heavily, deflating as she stared, sightless, at the unremarkable tiles next to his left boot. "I couldn't," she finally whispered. She looked up to him, needing him to understand. "Steve, it nearly overwhelmed him just talking about what happened between us all those years ago. I could see it. To drop that on him too? Now? With what we're facing? I couldn't do that to him. I couldn't...hurt him like that. Not...not now."

Steve's jaw clenched and his gaze fell to where his arms had crossed over his chest, unable to hold hers. Only for his broad shoulders to sag a moment later, his arms loosening.

"Nadine—" he started, a hand lifting toward her, but a breathless, humourless laugh that sounded far more like a sob than she was willing to admit escaped her, cutting him off just as effectively as the hand she absently raised, as though warding of whatever he intended to say. Whether she wanted to be or not, she wasn't finished.

She needed to get this out. To make sure he...that he understood...

"I—Steve, you know that I..." Nadine's breath hitched, the tension slowly beginning to leech from her body as her hand rose to cradle her forehead, "...that I need him to know," she said, an edge seeping into her brittle tone as the weariness resurfaced to overtake her frustration, composure slowly returning thanks to the catharsis of her unintended outburst, "that she's why I've been tracking him for so long. You know that." Her head rose, but she couldn't quite bring herself to look at him, gaze once more fixing, sightless, on the door to the empty storefront below, her voice beginning to slip from hollow to cool once more as her training reflexively began to reassert itself. "It's haunted me since the day she was born that he didn't...that he couldn't know. And now that he's got his mind back? That he's free of HYDRA? I barely dared to believe any of that was even possible. That there was any of him left in there to be freed from underneath the Winter Soldier programming." She sighed, arms crossing over her chest in a small concession against the sudden urge to curl defensively around the hollow feeling the surge of emotion had left in its wake as it bled from her with every word she'd said. After a moment, she finally managed to look up at him. "So no, it's not an easy decision to keep it from him."

"But Steve," she continued, her voice lowering further as she grew grim, "if we're going up against an even more violent and unstable mix between what they made me and what they made him?" She nodded in the direction of the door Barnes had disappeared through, her expression grave and distant before she turned back to him, silently hoping he understood. "None of us can afford to be even the slightest bit distracted. And if keeping it from him a little longer keeps someone from getting killed? It's a fair price."

After a long moment, Steve sighed, his warm eyes fixing on her as he raised a hand to glance absently down her arm, nodding mutely.

"You're right," he said sedately, sounding nearly as conflicted as she felt. "I don't like it either, but you have a point." Nadine couldn't help the relieved breath that rushed out of her chest at the understanding written on his handsome face.

He leaned down, brushing a soft, apologetic kiss across her cheek. Nadine's breath caught as she looked up at him in surprise. "I'm sorry," he said softly, his hand still warm and reassuring on her arm as a small, fond smile tugged at his lips, "I should know by now to trust your judgment."

"It's okay," she said softly, sparing him a tense, almost-smile. "I don't exactly naturally inspire trust," she dismissed with an attempt at levity. He sobered then with a faint frown.

"No it's not," he murmured earnestly, "you've more than earned it, Nadine." Nadine swallowed thickly, a different sort of emotion beginning to swell in her chest. Steve inhaled deeply then, letting it out slowly as he glanced over to the door just as Nadine had repeatedly over the course of her outburst, "I know it's no excuse, but...it's just, when it comes to him—" Nadine huffed out a small laugh, drawing his gaze back to her.

"He's your friend. You're looking out for him." She squeezed his arm, giving him a measure of reassurance back. "It's part of what makes you such a good man." The smile she was truly beginning to love when it was meant for her resurfaced.

"He is my friend," he agreed, "but while I'll admit I want nothing more than to tell him about Nina? I'd rather we all make it out of this alive, too." His hand rose then, settling along her jaw as his thumb brushed tenderly over her cheek. Nadine couldn't breathe.

He was...he was deferring to her about Barnes.

She could barely describe it. It was...it was as though a monumental weight had finally, finally eased. And the magnitude of everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, of everything that had been resolved despite what still loomed ahead of them—and ahead of her; with Nina, with Barnes...with Steve—settled in on her. It wasn't over, any of it, not by a long shot. But in that moment? For the first time, it felt like the end was in sight.

More than that? She finally, truly felt like she wasn't alone anymore.

She gasped in a shaking breath, her hands beginning to tremble as her vision began to blur.

And then Steve's arms around her, pulling her tight against him as her composure broke. She burrowed into his embrace, fingers clutching to his shirt as she hung on for dear life, struggling to contain the sob suddenly tremoring deep within her chest.

He just held her, his cheek pressing against the crown of her head as she just shook from sheer relief.

As she drew back several moments later, she could finally breathe again, each inhale feeling ragged. Only for a self-conscious flush to flood her face as she suddenly became acutely aware of his arms around her and the way she was pressed up against him.

And of just how right it felt.

What had happened with Barnes was one thing—embarrassing as her loss of control then had been, it had arguably been necessary—but this was Steve. She shouldn't be indulging in this...

She shouldn't be encouraging him...or herself.

She still wasn't the kind of person he should want to be with...she wasn't the kind of woman he deserved...

And she especially shouldn't be allowing this to happen now.

"Steve," she forced out as she edged back further, looking up to him almost plaintively as she willed her voice to strengthen, "thank you, but—but you didn't have to..." He smiled lightly as she trailed off, brushing her pale hair back from her face, his hand lingering to absently cup her jaw.

"Yes I did," he disagreed. He inhaled deeply, a flash of hesitation appearing in his eyes before he continued. "I—care about you, Nadine," he admitted softly, his gaze flicking away from her for a moment almost self-consciously. Her breath caught at the sentiment laden in his tone even as her pulse fluttered happily. "I have for a while. And I think you care for me too." He sounded confident, but there was an unmistakable nervous uncertainty in his eyes. Nadine's eyes widened in panic at the admission, her heart beginning to hammer as warmth began to bloom traitorously in her chest...even as a deep, crushing ache began to grow right alongside it.

No...she couldn't do this...not now...

It was too soon...she was supposed to have more time to figure out how to handle her rebellious emotions...and his...

This couldn't happen now!

"You shouldn't," she protested almost desperately, her breathless voice betraying how much she wanted it. "Steve, we shouldn't—" But his only response was to shake his head as he leaned closer.

And to kiss her.

Her eyes slid shut as she very nearly succumbed to the urge to melt against him. To give into his kiss and her own longing. Her heart and soul and every instinct she had was urging her to just let go, to surrender to what she craved, what he offered. To admit that he was what she needed in her life. That she wanted a future with him in it.

That she wanted to fight by his side.

But that small, powerful, cruel little voice that sounded far too much like Madame B insisted otherwise.

That she couldn't have that kind of future...

...that she was weak and reckless for even wanting it...

...that she wasn't good enough for him.

And the rational side of her piped up to join it, ever practical and pragmatic. Reminding her that it was not the right time to even be considering this.

That it was too dangerous...

...that she was too dangerous...

...that she was risking everything—Barnes, Nina, the mission...him—by even considering giving in.

A sob caught deep in her throat and she laid her hands on his chest, pushing gently but firmly enough to get the message across.

And it took every ounce of will she had in that moment to do it.

"Steve, please," she said, breathless, only just barely keeping her voice steady. "I—we can't." He hesitated, and she looked up to him.

It just killed her to see the look of understanding slowly surfacing.

"Because of Bucky?" he asked softly, hurt blooming in his eyes that he quickly tried to hide. And her heartache grew at his misunderstanding. "You do care for him, don't you." The way he said it? It was almost like it wasn't a question for him. She inhaled shakily, the sound traitorously like a soft sob.

"Steve—" His hands tightened minutely on her arms, his jaw tensing before he sighed heavily, deflating.

"It's okay, Nadine," he said kindly, leaning away from her, though he seemed reluctant to do it. "I understand."

"But you don't," she murmured sadly, unable to stop the thread of desperation that came with it. She couldn't meet his eye as he stilled, having heard far more than she intended him to. "I—I don't love Barnes. I'm not in love with him." She threw about desperately for a way to explain, her thoughts scattered and miserable and suddenly caring less about keeping just how damaged—how ill-suited—she was from him. "I just...I need to see this through, to help him the way he helped me." The words just spilled out, oddly sad and detached and feeling bewilderingly like a confession even though she'd said it all before. But God, she just didn't care anymore.

She needed him to understand.

"It's...to be able to help him...to be able to...to at least try to atone for what I did...what I am... Steve, I can't fall in love...I don't—I...not with him, not with..." her voice finally faltered as she looked up to him, her heart constricting painfully.

He was watching her, considering her, wonder and comprehension beginning to light in his ocean-hued eyes.

And she abruptly got the feeling that he understood far more than she did.

"You don't think you deserve it..." he murmured thoughtfully, his hand rising to brush his thumb across her cheek. Her damp cheek. When had she started crying?

She jerked back, swiping angrily at the moisture trailing from her blurring eyes. God, what was she doing? She'd all but told him—she couldn't. She just couldn't!

It would make everything so much harder and more complicated if she did...

And she was afraid...

She set her jaw, wrestling her frayed emotions back under some semblance of control.

"I don't want to hurt him," she said softly, "or you. It's better for everyone if I just..."

"Nadine," he said firmly as she trailed off, struggling to keep her composure. His hands settled on her upper arms again, his thumbs rubbing comforting circles over her sleeves, soothing her whether she wanted it or not. "Are you in love with Bucky?"

Uncertain about everything else as she was, she was sure about that. She felt her resolve crumble as she met his eye, seeing exactly what part of her feared would be there...and what another part desperately wanted to see.

"No," she confirmed as her head began to shake unconsciously, "I don't. But...but Steve, I can't—we can't...shouldn't..." The corner of his lip quirked and he leaned closer.

"You may not love him, but you do care about me." God, he sounded so certain...so...relieved... Reflexively, she stepped back, her willpower threatening to falter the longer the contact between them lasted.

"Steve, I—I don't know how," she protested almost frantically, "I've always been alone...I don't know anything else." He shook his head slowly, matching her step, his hands still light and comforting on her arms.

"I don't believe that," he murmured. "Not knowing how much you love Nina."

"That's—that's different," Nadine objected, "She's my daughter, my—my life... she's all I have." Steve stepped closer still, his fingers threading into her hair. She trembled at the effort it took not to lean into his touch.

"Could you love me?"

She was stunned nearly speechless, her heart suddenly hammering in her chest as a longing more powerful than any she had experienced before—the longing she had been denying for so long now—finally took hold, refusing to let her push it aside.

"We can't—" she pleaded, the words barely louder and far weaker than a shaking breath.

"Could you?" he pressed softly.

"I can't," she insisted desperately, her voice catching.

"Why not?" he asked gently, eyes nevertheless boring into hers, leading her to finally, finally, admit what a part of her she'd always believed irrevocably damaged by the Red Room had long since accepted.

"Because it's too late for that."

And she pressed her lips to his.

At once his arms were around her again, and she melted into him, surrendering completely as something deep inside her settled into place, making her feel lightheaded with the rightness of it.

Or perhaps it was his mouth on hers that was responsible.

She really didn't care.

In that moment, all she cared about was his mouth, firm yet soft beneath hers, as he kissed her hungrily back. She pressed closer, her arms winding around his neck, her fingers clutching at his shoulders as her tongue darted out, tasting him, urging his lips to part against hers. And she sighed into his mouth as he eagerly complied, his tongue sweeping out to meet hers, deepening the kiss further.

As his hands began to roam her body, skimming beneath the hem of her shirt to circle her waist, pressing her closer still against him, a need more powerful than any she'd felt in years began growing deep in her belly, pulsing in time with her racing heart.

It was intoxicating, the solid feel of him against her, of his touch on her skin, the scent of him—familiar and male and Steve—surrounding her. It was so easy to give in, to surrender to his embrace, in his kisses. So natural to press closer, to let his arms tighten around her as he lifted her up against him, taking advantage of the adjustment to scrape her fingers along his scalp. The groan it dragged from deep in his chest vibrated through her and, without thinking, her legs were soon wrapping around his waist, the desire pooling in her belly beginning to overwhelm her.

She never wanted to let go.

She just wanted to lose herself in him. Almost desperately.

At least until she abruptly realized he had pressed her against the wall. A flicker of alarm was suddenly waking in the back of her mind as her chest suddenly felt tight. But no matter how hard she tried to shove it away, to lose herself once more in his kiss, in the heady feel of his mouth on her skin and the delicious way her body felt alive beneath his hands and against the hard planes of his body, it just seemed to grow.

With a gasp, she broke the kiss, pushing at his shoulders even as her eyes slammed shut. Her pulse roared in her ears, fuelled by desire and memory and an irrational flare of panic.

She nearly didn't hear Steve calling her name as he caught his breath, concern clear in his voice as she struggled to regain control. She nearly flinched as his hand cupped her jaw, his thumb tenderly stroking her cheek. Instead she pressed into the touch.

This was different than all those years before! It was! They weren't in the Red Room, they were safe in one of her Boltholes.

And it was Steve! That made all the difference.

At least, it was supposed to. She swore under her breath, her gut twisting at how vulnerable her voice suddenly sounded as she clung to him. She barely even noticed as he gently urged her legs from around his waist, lowering her carefully to the ground. Not until her pulse began to slow and his other hand rose to frame her face, forcing her to look up to him.

She nearly broke at the concern in his eyes as he looked down at her.

"What's wrong," he asked carefully. Her breath hitched painfully and before she could help herself, her forehead had fallen to rest against his chest as a small, frustrated sound sounded in the back of her throat. He responded instantly to her silent plea, his arms curling tight around her.

"Too fast," he finally prompted softly, "that's it, isn't it." Pulling back to look up into his concerned, even apologetic features, she shook her head even as a shuddering breath she refused to label a sob slipped free.

"No, it's not—it's just... Not like that," she finally managed to choke out, a nearly desperate thread to her voice, unable to bear that he thought it was something he'd done wrong, "just...not like that. Not—not...desperate...not the first time..." Something akin to understanding flickered in his eyes and something tight and sharp eased in her chest as he pulled her tight against him again, tucking her beneath his chin, his lips brushing tenderly against her temple. And she let the feel of his arms securely around her and the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear soothe her.

"Then not like that," he murmured.

And with each strong thrum, the dark memories taunting her, haunting her began to retreat, leaving her feeling oddly...satisfied.

It was...peaceful, standing there, safe in his embrace, the feeling of being home in his arms calming her. She didn't want it to end.

But end it did, a soft buzz from his pocket signalling an incoming text. Steve sighed, his breath stirring her hair. Reluctantly they drew apart with a long, loaded glance that seemed to say far more than Nadine knew she'd be capable of vocalizing in that moment.

"That'll be Barton," he murmured. "We should probably get going." Nadine nodded, knowing he was right. Their reprieve and all its developments—good and hard, alike—had come to an end.

"I'll close the place up," she said, her mind—bewilderingly, feeling clearer than it had in days...weeks, even—turning automatically to back to their mission, circling the kitchen counter once they parted. "You should probably wake Sam." Features turning serious as the reality of their mission settled back over him as well, Steve nodded in agreement.

Only to pause in the doorway that lead to the back rooms, turning back to Nadine with a thoughtful frown.

Catching his concerned expression from the corner of her eye, she looked up from packing away her guns. After a moment's hesitation, he crossed the room again, his hand falling almost instinctively to the small of her back as he came to a stop next to her.

"You—" he faltered, his frown deepening as he considered how best to voice what he wanted to say. "You're okay? With...with this? With...us?" Uncertainty pressed in her chest, the small voice in the back of her mind trying to remind her of all the reasons it was a bad idea.

But she was done listening to it.

And it was if something small but vital clicked into place within her, and her uncertainty slowly began to drain away. It left her insides fluttering strangely...though not entirely uncomfortably.

"I will be," she admitted softly in response, earning a relieved smile. "Especially since—" inadvertently her gaze flicked over to where she knew Barnes was standing watch down below. A faint chuckle huffed out of him.

"He's part of why I waited so long...too long," he admitted with an endearingly apologetic grin, growing serious as he brought her gaze back to meet his with a gentle pressure on her cheek. "No matter what happens, Nadine—"

"It's going to be fine," she interrupted firmly. "It has to.

"Too much depends on it."

A/N: Thanks for reading!

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