[Everyone who knows him misses Steve, Natasha's sure. He's that kind of person. The kind who walks in and fills a room. The kind you want to follow into battle. The kind who makes you want to be a better person, even though you barely have the capacity for good, much less better.
That pointed look has no power over her. She would rather spend credits she can ill-afford to waste on cricket tacos than eat your cooking, Barnes. Sorry. Prove her wrong someday.
(Sometimes Natasha forgets that there is a before. For her, there's only an after. The weapon the Red Room forged her into and the person she's tried to become after.)
Natasha doesn't know how he'll be able to help. Other than fall in her place and see if it works. Which, for the record, is a dumb plan. Though, she supposes, no more dumb than taking a whole night to climb down to the bottom of the cliff only to find another cliff edge waiting for you down there.]
At Natasha Romanoff. [Natasha offers. She's got the network thing up and running. Haven't played with it yet -- didn't see a reason -- or she might've found his name already. Maybe there are more of them out there. Maybe-- Natasha squashes the thought before it has a chance to sprout into anything remotely resembling hope.
The universe gave her Bucky Barnes. It's not much, but it's one hell of an improvement of what she had yesterday. Something to be grateful for, rather than use as a springboard to wish for more.]
Theoretically [Natasha's voice is calm, as she steps up to the ledge next to him. She dislodges a couple of pebbles with her boot and they go tumbling down. Their clattering path down to the bottom, echoes through the open space.] Doing this, saves the world.
[Not in and of itself. It's just a small, but vital step on the way. If it worked. If everyone else did their part. Maybe there's a world right now, where Steve and Bucky are figuring out what to have for dinner. Burgers, or maybe pizza. Maybe Steve's on another health kick now that the world has been restored. Maybe he'll suggest the salad bowl place he used to love.]
no subject
That pointed look has no power over her. She would rather spend credits she can ill-afford to waste on cricket tacos than eat your cooking, Barnes. Sorry. Prove her wrong someday.
(Sometimes Natasha forgets that there is a before. For her, there's only an after. The weapon the Red Room forged her into and the person she's tried to become after.)
Natasha doesn't know how he'll be able to help. Other than fall in her place and see if it works. Which, for the record, is a dumb plan. Though, she supposes, no more dumb than taking a whole night to climb down to the bottom of the cliff only to find another cliff edge waiting for you down there.]
At Natasha Romanoff. [Natasha offers. She's got the network thing up and running. Haven't played with it yet -- didn't see a reason -- or she might've found his name already. Maybe there are more of them out there. Maybe-- Natasha squashes the thought before it has a chance to sprout into anything remotely resembling hope.
The universe gave her Bucky Barnes. It's not much, but it's one hell of an improvement of what she had yesterday. Something to be grateful for, rather than use as a springboard to wish for more.]
Theoretically [Natasha's voice is calm, as she steps up to the ledge next to him. She dislodges a couple of pebbles with her boot and they go tumbling down. Their clattering path down to the bottom, echoes through the open space.] Doing this, saves the world.
[Not in and of itself. It's just a small, but vital step on the way. If it worked. If everyone else did their part. Maybe there's a world right now, where Steve and Bucky are figuring out what to have for dinner. Burgers, or maybe pizza. Maybe Steve's on another health kick now that the world has been restored. Maybe he'll suggest the salad bowl place he used to love.]