Summary: While on the run from from the government after the battle in Leipzig, Steve can't help but worry about Natasha and how she'd been dealing with the aftermath.  Had she escaped Ross?  Was she even still alive?  He knew she could be untraceable if she wanted too, but somehow he also knew where she had gone.

A/N: italics represent things said in Russian. Enjoy!

It had been months since he'd last been with his full team.  Scott and Clint had both chosen house arrest after escaping the RAFT, giving up their titles as superheroes and Avengers.  Steve understood; if he'd had a family, he would want to be with them rather than constantly move around until the Accords could be amended.  If they could be amended.  He'd had Wanda and Sam with him for a while, but Vision had showed up one day and Wanda had left with him, promising Steve she'd call if she so much as thought they had been found.  That had left him and Sam together to run from the American government.  However, one person remained unaccounted for and he couldn't shake the thought that somehow he had failed Natasha after she'd saved them in the airport.

"You're sure?"  Sam asked, watching Steve pack up his few belongings in the small shack they'd found abandoned somewhere in Latvia.

"I have to at least check,"  Steve answered, zipping up his backpack and turning to face Sam.  "Without her help, we would have all been trapped in that floating prison.  I have to make sure she's alright."

"I think we would have heard something if she wasn't,"  Sam stated.  Steve just sighed and looked at Sam.  Sam couldn't find it in himself to keep telling Steve not to chase after the spy when the man looked so dejected and worried.

"Please, Sam,"  Steve said.  "I have to make sure she's okay."

"Fine,"  Sam conceded, only because Steve looked like an actual kicked puppy.  "But if you don't find her, don't assume the worst."

"No promises,"  Steve replied.  He shouldered his backpack and picked up the wallet full of cash T'Challa had given him when he dropped Bucky off in Wakanda.  "Just, don't get caught while I'm gone, okay?"

"I'll try my best,"  Sam promised.  Steve nodded and pulled Sam in for a short hug before leaving the shack.

* * * * *

Steve took a train from Latvia to St. Petersburg, Russia.  He arrived late at night and managed to find a run down motel to stay in for the night.  He was up as soon as the sun was and spent the entire day searching for Natasha.  He doubted she'd stay St. Petersburg very long if at all, but he had to check all the possible places she could be.  It took him two days to exhaust his options and then he was back on the train and headed to Moscow.

A part of him worried she might be in a small town or maybe not even in Russia, but he knew it was easier to hide in cities and she had gone to Russia last time she'd needed to rediscover who she was after SHIELD fell.  He considered if that meant she'd think Russia was too obvious, but he was already only an hour from Moscow and he wasn't going to turn around just because he was worried she might not be there.  If she wasn't, he'd check Volgograd then return to Sam and think up where else she could possibly be.

* * * * *

He spent another night in a cheap motel then set off on his search for Natasha in the morning.  Moscow was much more busy and fast paced compared to St. Petersburg, so Steve had a little bit more trouble getting around.  However, it struck him as the perfect place to hide.  People didn't blink twice at him (if they even bothered to look at him) and they were all busy with their own agenda.  The perfect place for any Russian to go if they were hiding from a foreign government.

Unfortunately for Steve, his Russian was less than okay.  He could hardly communicate with people and he didn't want to speak English in case they did manage to recognise him as Captain America even with his long hair and beard.  He struggled the entire first day to take the right trains to different areas of the city to search for Natasha.  At the end of his first full day in Moscow, he returned to the motel frustrated and determined to brush up on his Russian.  While Natasha had taught him some, it clearly wasn't enough.

He spent almost all night looking up, writing down, and memorising phrases he had needed throughout the day and ones he thought he might need in the future.  It was 3:24AM when he finally went to sleep, but he still set his watch alarm for 6:30AM so he could get an early start.

* * * * *

Early mornings in Moscow were Natasha's favourite thing about the city.  While it was still bustling with activity, it wasn't as rushed and not everyone was awake yet.  The cold air was refreshing and the dark skies made her smile.  Even if she couldn't see the stars, she knew they were there.  She would walk through the lamp lit streets, trying to imagine what her life would be if she had grown up in the city with parents rather than in Siberia with the Red Room.  It was easier when the sun wasn't out.

She walked the same route every morning.  From the small apartment she shared with Mrs. Cataskaya, an old lady who had recognised her but promised to keep her safe, she would walk down to a bakery on the corner of the street.  She'd buy fresh bread right as Mr. Petroski pulled it from the oven then return to the apartment to make breakfast.  Once she'd helped Mrs. Cataskaya clean the house and the old lady was set up in front of her fire place with plenty of yarn and knitting needles, she would walk 2 kilometres into the city and pick up any groceries.  Sometimes she would sell the things Mrs. Cataskaya knitted and bring the money back to her, but most of the time she just walked around the city aimlessly for the day.

"Good morning, Yekaterina,"  Mr. Petroski greeted as she walked into the bakery.

"Good morning, Mr. Petroski,"  Natasha replied.  She watched Mr. Petroski pull the bread from the oven.  He packaged one loaf up right away and handed it to Natasha in exchange for the rubles Natasha held out.

"How is your grandmother?"  Mr. Petroski asked.

"Just wonderful,"  Natasha answered.  With Mrs. Cataskaya's permission, she was acting as her granddaughter come to Moscow in order to care for her and go to college.  "She wanted me to tell you the seeded bread is her new favourite."

"Oh good!"  Mr. Petroski said happily.  Natasha said goodbye and left the shop, returning to the small apartment and setting the bread on the kitchen counter.  She stirred the fireplace then began making toast for Mrs. Cataskaya.

* * * * *

Natasha was standing in the middle of a market, basket of scarves, mittens, and hats made by Mrs. Cataskaya at her feet.  She had her sign set up beside her as she advertised for the knitted items.  She'd only been there for an hour, but seven people had come up and bought something already.  Some she had been able to recognise as returning customers, but most were people she hadn't seen before.

"Excuse me, ma'am,"  a man said, looking down at the basket of scarves, mittens, and hats.  "How much?"  He wore a baseball cap on his head and a heavy jacket, but his presence felt oddly familiar.  Immediately, Natasha put up her guard.

"Scarves are 10 ruble, hats are 8, and mittens are 9,"  Natasha informed him, wary of his strong American accent.  Surely there was no way Ross had found her.  She'd been extremely careful and even dyed her hair a platinum blonde to keep from standing out.

"Um, this?"  the man asked, reaching down and picking up a pair of mittens.  He looked up at her for an answer and she froze.  He froze as well, narrowing his eyes slightly as he looked at her.

"Steve?"  she asked.  He nodded and recognition flooded his face seconds before he dropped the mittens and hugged her tightly.

"Natasha, god,"  he breathed into the crook of her neck.  He buried his face in her shoulder as he lifted her off the ground.  "I've been looking all over for you.  You're okay, right?"

He set Natasha back on the ground but kept her close enough to spot the few freckles on her nose.  He lifted a hand up to her hair and fingered it gently.  She'd cut it as well and it was the same length as when he'd first met her, but not curled or red.  It was platinum and he'd be lying if he said it didn't look good on her.  He was pretty sure he preferred the red, but blonde wasn't a bad look for her.

"I'm okay,"  Natasha assured him, grabbing onto his wrist and stilling his hand in her hair.  "How did you find me?"

"Lucky guess?"  he said.  Natasha frowned.  "Russia is a bit obvious, but I don't think Ross has figured it out yet."

"Oh god,"  she groaned.  "Now I have to move."

Steve's eyes widened and he shook his head.  No, he had found her.  She wasn't going to disappear again just so he could struggle to find her again.

"Come back with me,"  he suggested.  Now Natasha's eyes widened, but she didn't seem immediately repulsed by the idea.  "Sam and I could probably use the help laying low and I can't sleep knowing you're on your own."

"Aw,"  Natasha cooed mockingly.  She reached up and pinched one of Steve's cheeks.  Teasingly, she asked,  "Did you miss me?"

"Yes,"  he said seriously.  Her teasing expression disappeared and she put her hand on Steve's cheek.

"I missed you too,"  she said softly after a couple beats.

"Come back with me?"  he asked.  She smiled softly and nodded.

"Alright,"  she replied.  "Let me just tie up a few ends here then we can leave."

Steve hugged her again, wrapping his arms around her shoulders instead of picking her up.  She smiled and tucked her head under his chin, hugging his torso tightly.  Steve gently kissed the top of her head then squeezed her tightly before letting her go.

"Thank you for coming with me,"  he said.  Natasha just folded up her sign and handed it to him, picking up the basket of knitted items herself and smiling at him.

"Someone has to make sure you and Sam don't get yourselves killed,"  she teased, leading the way back to Mrs. Cataskaya's apartment to grab her things then leave.