Natasha Romanoff (RP)

[memoriesobscured]

[buchananboy-blog]

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Bucky? Bucky.  Natasha was in a state of shock that after she and Steve had spent their night together that she’d stumble upon their shared person that they most desired to find. To be with again. The night she told Steve she was off on her own, she saw James. James. He saw Natasha one moment, a woman who just stared at his metal arm and then she was gone. The desire to have that single night of normalcy departed as Tasha was Black Widow again, blending into the shadows, waiting to isolate James on his own. After the ballet ended, she suddenly was there in front of him. “James. We have been looking for you,” her hand reached out to touch his metal arm, “with all of our hearts.” He’d feel even if she didn’t express in words, that she knew what he was. Knew those secrets about himself that he could only half expect without his memories. “James, it’s Tasha.” Honestly, she was doubting he’d recall her. She was prepared to disable, drag him into a private room where she could zip tie him for a more extensive interrogation. Unfortunately, it would not prove the more unlikely situation that he did not recall her and she was without support. However, she tried, if opportune she’d isolate him away from the others, bring James back. Steve would never forgive if she did not make efforts.

Bucky felt uneasy for the rest of the show, he had a hard time actually enjoying himself. It wasn’t like this was the first time he was out and people stared, but there was something about that one woman in particular. Something about her gaze, about the way she held herself… it was intimidating and he seriously debated leaving before the end of the ballet just to avoid running into her again.

Of course that didn’t happen, he couldn’t bring himself to leave half way through the show. He would feel terrible doing that, and he didn’t need any more things to be worrying about. He tried his best to slip out unnoticed by anyone, not wanting to deal with anyone questioning his arm, or if he was dangerous. He longed for a normal life, why couldn’t he just have a normal prosthetic, what kind of doctor uses metal. He was so lost in thought that he barely noticed anyone around him until suddenly that woman from earlier was right there. 

His ears were practically ringing as she said his name, his eyes going completely wide. He flinched quite noticeably as she suddenly touched his arm, trying to pull back from her touch. “I-I’m sorry ma’am, I think you have me mistaken for someone else.” He said quickly, looking slightly panicked. “I really don’t want any trouble, so I’d love to just be on my way.” He was looking around, trying to see if anyone could help him, and seeing where the exits were. “Please just let me go… I-I just want to go home.” He was clearly very nervous, seemingly intimated by the woman. 

[memoriesobscured]

Leave it to fucking Bucky to have his mind wiped, again. This was a new one though because for once it wasn’t that the KGB was having him do absolutely horrible things. There was a part of Natasha that thought perhaps she should just completely walk away and not mention to anyone. However, if there was one thing she and Bucky both knew all too well how it was to have their memories taken.  However, in all of this hearing of people reappearing with new lives, was not stories yet of anyone recovering their old life. At least, that Natasha had time to read up on yet, so the Spy had to think quickly. She didn’t have any trackers on her, this was supposed to be her embracing off time. Rookie mistake Natasha. She doubted picking his pocket would do her any good and her phone was a burner - it would be hard to trace it.  So, instead, she gasped, “oh, I’m sorry. My apologies.” She let go and quickly as possible blended in with the rest of the people. She was quickly pulling up her hair, snagging a tuxedo jacket left behind on a chair and pulling it on. Then, she Bucky’s new shadow. If she couldn’t use something to track him, she would have to follow him. Just to find out where he was living, then, she’d have something to share with Steve. She just would have to be a very quiet shadow, she’d already spooked the man. Thankfully, Natasha had her memories and she was very good at what she did.

[buchananboy-blog]

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Tasha stood in front of her bathroom mirror, examining her own from. Hands drifting to run along her new crescent scar along her lower left abdomen, but she still did not know where it was from. Drifting upwards over toned musculature towards the slopes of her breasts. There were few differences between her figure before and after the battle with Thanos and her return. Two new scars, that troubled the super-spy. The Serum had not protected her from the scars from taking, it led to more questions than answers. Her lingering on her own reflection didn’t last long as she headed to her closet to dress for the ballet.

Tonight’s activity did not have a job attached to it, but instead was indulging Natasha in what she believed to be a past attached. Life was now different, post-Thanos, in many extents and tonight Natasha was trying in part to find out what that meant to her. A dark black dress was pulled on, and while normally such a dress was used in a mission where she would play seductress, perhaps a former ballerina, to get information from some important man or woman. However, tonight she had only one ticket and had no plans to do anything but enjoy the show.  It was the opening night for the NYC Ballet Season, and Natasha had front row tickets. She quickly had found her seat, an empty one to her left, as she began to enjoy the dancing of All Balanchine. The stylized exhibit in three works were subtle, yet passionate and effervescent. They awoke within her. Anyone sitting near her and watching her instead of the show would see her own feet moving with the desire to not be in the seats, but up there on the stage. Between the works, during intermission, she drifted towards the lobby. Watching, lurking for opportunities, despite her desires to just be another citizen and just watch the show. Old habits were hard to break. 

Bucky had always been a fan of the ballet, he wasn’t actually sure where it stemmed from if he was being honestly, but then again he wasn’t sure where most things in his life came from. It was strange, he felt as though his life had a huge hole in the middle, and he couldn’t remember how he got there, what had happened, or even who he was. He was living a normal life, but he couldn’t help but feel like not all the dots were connected. He didn’t know how he was living his life as if he always had one eye closed, not seeing the full picture. But he tried his best to make it work, it wasn’t like he couldn’t function because he couldn’t remember, right?

More and more as time passed, he found it quite difficult to go out in public. For one, he was unusually muscular, which was strange for him because he didn’t work out, not even once a week. And he didn’t even want to get into the fact his arm was metal. He couldn’t for the life of him remember what had happened, or why any sort of doctor would put a metal prosthetic on him. Things just didn’t add up, and it made him quite nervous going out in public. People stared, and questioned him, and he of course never knew what to say.

Tonight was no different for him. He felt eyes on him, the whispers, it made him want to duck his head and go home. But he wanted to see the ballet, he had a fascination with it, as if he wanted to do it as well but he figured he would look quite silly doing it. He seemingly longed for more than what he was doing, working in the flower shop was nice, but he longed for more…he didn’t know what, but more. 

Intermission rolled around and he quickly made his way to the lobby, leaning against the bar as he ordered himself a drink. Knowing himself, alcohol never seemed to affect him,  however impossible that seemed. It wasn’t very long until he felt a pair of eyes on him, and someone it felt different than most of the eyes on him. He glanced over and saw a woman staring rather intently at him, and it made him quite uneasy. He didn’t know her, so she was probably staring at the arm, and not him. He gave her a slight smile before he quickly looked away, focusing down at the drink in his hand.  

[memoriesobscured]

Bucky? Bucky.  Natasha was in a state of shock that after she and Steve had spent their night together that she’d stumble upon their shared person that they most desired to find. To be with again. The night she told Steve she was off on her own, she saw James. James. He saw Natasha one moment, a woman who just stared at his metal arm and then she was gone. The desire to have that single night of normalcy departed as Tasha was Black Widow again, blending into the shadows, waiting to isolate James on his own. After the ballet ended, she suddenly was there in front of him. “James. We have been looking for you,” her hand reached out to touch his metal arm, “with all of our hearts.” He’d feel even if she didn’t express in words, that she knew what he was. Knew those secrets about himself that he could only half expect without his memories. “James, it’s Tasha.” Honestly, she was doubting he’d recall her. She was prepared to disable, drag him into a private room where she could zip tie him for a more extensive interrogation. Unfortunately, it would not prove the more unlikely situation that he did not recall her and she was without support. However, she tried, if opportune she’d isolate him away from the others, bring James back. Steve would never forgive if she did not make efforts.

[memoriesobscured]

Tasha stood in front of her bathroom mirror, examining her own from. Hands drifting to run along her new crescent scar along her lower left abdomen, but she still did not know where it was from. Drifting upwards over toned musculature towards the slopes of her breasts. There were few differences between her figure before and after the battle with Thanos and her return. Two new scars, that troubled the super-spy. The Serum had not protected her from the scars from taking, it led to more questions than answers. Her lingering on her own reflection didn’t last long as she headed to her closet to dress for the ballet.

Tonight’s activity did not have a job attached to it, but instead was indulging Natasha in what she believed to be a past attached. Life was now different, post-Thanos, in many extents and tonight Natasha was trying in part to find out what that meant to her. A dark black dress was pulled on, and while normally such a dress was used in a mission where she would play seductress, perhaps a former ballerina, to get information from some important man or woman. However, tonight she had only one ticket and had no plans to do anything but enjoy the show.  It was the opening night for the NYC Ballet Season, and Natasha had front row tickets. She quickly had found her seat, an empty one to her left, as she began to enjoy the dancing of All Balanchine. The stylized exhibit in three works were subtle, yet passionate and effervescent. They awoke within her. Anyone sitting near her and watching her instead of the show would see her own feet moving with the desire to not be in the seats, but up there on the stage. Between the works, during intermission, she drifted towards the lobby. Watching, lurking for opportunities, despite her desires to just be another citizen and just watch the show. Old habits were hard to break. 

[memoriesobscured]

[shes-sweet-but-not-innocent]

[memoriesobscured]

New York, New York

[narutoworld]

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There was something in that heart and it was something that had drawn Natasha to him in their extended time together. And despite the fact it just felt like yesterday, Natasha knew the time had passed. Time in which she had chosen not to wait for someone else in her past, had he waited for her? Natasha did not presume that Steve would have waited, no matter his faith in his character. They were not betrothed, they had just barely begun to explore something beyond that friendship and the world had vastly changed a lot. Did Natasha hope? That was a dangerous question.

As he offered to take her around, Natasha shook her head. “There’s shampoo in there, why don’t you clean up and then you can catch me up.”

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“Tryin’ to tell me something?”  With the mention of shampoo.  He smiled despite the implication, not bothered so much as curious why the mention of shampoo.. but he knew he needed a shower, regardless.  He would have already taken one if not for the detour to the safe house, though he was hardly complaining.

But the jovial expression faded at the mention of finding others.  He’d only found her because she came to him.. and he wasn’t quite optimistic enough to believe she’d set a trend, though the dream was nice enough.  “I’ve been looking, but I haven’t had much luck.”  The lilt of his voice hinted that perhaps she might be that luck.  It wasn’t intentional—it was just a habit.  They always worked well together and with her just showing up out of the blue.. well, she gave him reasons to hope and reasons to believe they could do it, if they were together.  And perhaps a bit of the together leaked in, too, though it was as ambiguous as the rest and twice as shy besides, with the subtle shift and searching of icy blue eyes.  For a trained killer, it was hard not to notice how compassionate she could be when she wanted, muscle tensing underneath her touch.  

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[memoriesobscured]

As she came back in and saw him on the bed she tossed, gently, the food and vodka onto the bed. Natasha pulled back off the pants, they hit the floor as she kicked out them. Bare legs were exposed, but Natasha never played fair as the blouse joined her pants. She had to know. The lack of objection had Natasha crawling into the bed and stealing one of the tin foil wrapped chili dogs as she sat next to him in the bed. The wrapping remained intact as she joined him. "I don't know what they did to me, Steve, in those few weeks. You know I do not like what I don't know."

Yes, she was still playing a lot under her hair as she left out the extraneous details, soon a bare thigh was swinging over Steve's well-developed thighs and she pressed herself down and the curve of her ass rested near his knees. Nat's left hand reached up to caress his cheek. The gesture said more than her words could ever do, "I did not stay away out of choice, Steve. I couldn't anymore, not after everything," and as if a half-naked Natasha Romanoff needed emphasis, she pushed against Steve's thighs a gentle, but not subtle gesture. "Steve." There was a breath as she took it all in, "difficult, but not impossible. Unless you've changed your mind?"

[nottheironfist-blog]

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There were others Nat needed to see, now that she was back. Unfortunately, she could not count on all of them to be into following years old protocols to locate them. However, Steve had a phone and he still was far too predictable on his passcodes and soon Natasha had phone numbers for some of the others. Yes, she could have asked him, but there was no fun in that.

Transferred into her own new phone, she waited. It was harder than she wanted to admit being back, she was thankful that they were alive. However, Natasha was still unsettled about the fact that she had no idea what had happened to her between the battle and waking up a week ago now, outside of Moscow. That was something she’d need help in uncovering, but that was a mission she’d loop others in on later. For now, she just needed to get herself reestablish and let the others know that she was alive.

Finally, a text was sent that the person would receive from an unknown caller, but Natasha using a burner phone was not a new behavior. “Hey – it’s Natasha. I’m in New York. We should meet up, it’s been a while. Just send me a location, I’ll come to you.” Hopefully, everyone would take hearing from a ghost as well as Cap had. Lips twitched as she had a thought, could this be considered the opposite of ghosting?

Clint had been anticipating the worst when his phone pinged. He had certainly not been expecting such a calm and casual text from Natasha, let alone one from a new number. He had his suspicions - if something was wrong, Nat wasn’t one to ask for help outright. He punched out a response quickly, told her to meet him at their usual coffee spot in an hour. He pocketed his phone and tucked a knife into his boot as he laced them up. He dropped Lucky off with Wade and headed to the coffee shop. 

He ordered for both of them - he remembered her usual order as well as his own - and tucked himself into their usual spot in the back patio, pushing his sunglasses to rest on top of his head. He sipped his coffee gingerly, keeping an eye out for her. He didn’t know what to expect, to be truthful. He hadn’t seen Natasha in person since he took the house arrest deal, and he could count the number of times she had called him since she, Cap, and Sam went on the run on just one hand. (Which was more than they were legally allowed, technically, but good luck to anyone who tries to tell the Black Widow what she can and can’t do.) After knowing her for so long, he knew that she was more than capable of taking care of herself, and that he should find some comfort in knowing she wasn’t alone. But Natasha was his best friend, and he couldn’t stop himself from worrying about her - Thor had told him that she had been in one piece after the battle in Wakanda, but admitted that he hadn’t seen her since he left for New York. That didn’t sit right with Clint. 

He pulled out his phone and reread her texts from today, compared them to the last time she had texted him from her last known number a few months ago. Something was definitely amiss. He tried to wash away the sinking feeling he had in his chest with another swig of coffee, not caring if he burned his mouth in the process. He sighed and closed his eyes a moment, gripping the cup like a lifeline. When he opened them again, as if on cue, she was there. 

“Tasha?” he managed, his voice hoarse. 

[memoriesobscured]

Clint's return text came quicker than Nat was expecting, but she was happy he was the first one she heard back from. It had been even longer since she saw him due to the deal he had struck. There had never been any blame or grudges held against Clint or Scott -- they both had kids. Families. Instead, there was support, even if that support wasn't visible, in fact, that support had come in almost staying completely clear of Clint and his family so that she didn't invalidate his agreement.

However, things had changed since that Battle -- even if Natasha didn't remember the time since the Battle, she knew the world had kept moving on without her. It always did. However, the thing about old friends is that even if it had been fifty years, she'd still know what he meant by their favorite coffee shop. Though, on the way, Natasha found that she didn't know what Clint meant about their favorite coffee shop. Nat found that out when she saw Clint across the street at the cafe on the other side of the street -- had they moved? Had she somehow forgotten? No, her memories placed her here. Perhaps he just hadn't trusted it would be her. Just another thing for Natasha to keep under her hair.

It did not matter, because Natasha knew it was Clint. From the way, he sat down to the fact he went ahead and got them both coffee.  Even the way he pulled out his phone and double checked the texts reminded Natasha instantly of her old friend. So, when Clint's eyes opened again he found her there. She was in one piece and did not look like she’d picked any fights that day so far.

"You're looking good, Clint. It’s okay, you can shut your jaw now, I’m not looking that good." Nat reached for the cup of coffee he had ordered for her and took a large sip. "How have you been? How's the puppy, still dating Kate?” Leave it to Natasha to try and slip into things like no time had passed.

[memoriesobscured]

New York, New York

[narutoworld]

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Defenses were not something Natasha could put down, after all, what exactly had she been doing for those years? So it was not until Steve’s shield clanged on the floor that the Glock held in Nat’s left hand under the edge of the kitchen counter while her right hand had still held the food brought to her bright red lips. Disarmed, of not only the weapon but her food as well she was ready for him before he reached her. 

The feeling that leapt through her internally was hard to hide, even for her, as the sweaty man snagged her up in an embrace. “Geeze, Steve, couldn’t even bother with a shower first?” Arms wrapped around him to return that embrace and hold it tightly before he put her back on her feet. Once on her feet, Nat took her time taking him in, for what she now knew was the first time in years. The years were at least always kind to him and he was definitely a sight for her sore eyes. She inspected him over, first in the way that he expected checking for any changes to him – new scars, or anything that would tell her it wasn’t him or what he had been up to, but he was as always, perfection. The second look over, that took more time and was one of appreciation for a friend that she was not sure was even still alive. Someone she had spent a lot of time with before that battle while they’d been on the run. “If I had known you were on your way, Rogers, I might have put on more clothes to preserve your modesty. I was not expecting you until morning.”

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Rookie mistake, really.  He moved with his heart and didn’t see the gun in her hand until his shield had bounced.  Was just luck he was right and she was her and not anyone else, but then, chances were he didn’t have to worry about such honed reflexes from anyone else. “No,” He answered her back immediately, near-breathless on the edge of an exhale.  Wasn’t gonna wait to shower just to hug her and know for sure she was real. She was back.

He didn’t seem to have aged a bit, though it was hard to tell his age at the best of times.  He’d put on a little muscle, lost a little fat, if anything; a sign of the stress that led to harder training and a near-neurotic drive to be prepared for the worst.. though the worst had already come to pass. Thanoas had came and went and while there were always going to be villains and threats to deal with, none were even close to comparing to the Mad Titan.  But hold habits died hard.  Feelings, too, as he couldn’t help but smile, get a little choked up at seeing her alive and well.  “I wasn’t expecting you at all,” He countered back, happy to be wrong.

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[memoriesobscured]

There was something in that heart and it was something that had drawn Natasha to him in their extended time together. And despite the fact it just felt like yesterday, Natasha knew the time had passed. Time in which she had chosen not to wait for someone else in her past, had he waited for her? Natasha did not presume that Steve would have waited, no matter his faith in his character. They were not betrothed, they had just barely begun to explore something beyond that friendship and the world had vastly changed a lot. Did Natasha hope? That was a dangerous question.

As he offered to take her around, Natasha shook her head. "There's shampoo in there, why don't you clean up and then you can catch me up."

Emotions were dangerous and the world somehow, despite the defeat of Thanos, felt even more dangerous.  However, to Natasha the feels she'd let herself have with him were so very still present.  "And I'll tell you what I know about me, when *we* find Bucky and the others, you can help me find out what happened to me in our time apart. Because I don't believe Thanos can be blamed. " Natasha had dropped the food and broke the distance between them and her hand rested on his deltoid and gave a squeeze, her fingers curling and tightening, but as they released there was a gentle drifting drag. "I'll get us both dinner, I'll reach out to the others tomorrow.  I'll be back by the time you're done blow-drying your hair," Natasha winked and let go physically of him, for now. Their past relationship had started with that trust, and for Natasha, admiration of who he was.  That would never vanish, no matter their current circumstance.

There was always something subtle with them, something that could be said in a gesture whenever the time was not right for words or more. While he went into the shower, she pulled on pants and headed out to get them what had become their thing. Their favorite take-out meal. When Bucky, Sam -- Wanda, were with them, well, it was always something else. It'd become their thing. More of a joke at first, but had become the Soviet-American special. A bottle of Vodka was picked up, and then french fries and several chili cheese hot dogs. They both always seemed to have a decent appetite, so, two never completed the job. No place, but Nathan's Finest seemed to do the job.

Around ten or fifteen minutes post his shower, he'd hear the door opening and her walking back in with the goods.

[memoriesobscured]

There were others Nat needed to see, now that she was back. Unfortunately, she could not count on all of them to be into following years old protocols to locate them. However, Steve had a phone and he still was far too predictable on his passcodes and soon Natasha had phone numbers for some of the others. Yes, she could have asked him, but there was no fun in that.

Transferred into her own new phone, she waited. It was harder than she wanted to admit being back, she was thankful that they were alive. However, Natasha was still unsettled about the fact that she had no idea what had happened to her between the battle and waking up a week ago now, outside of Moscow. That was something she'd need help in uncovering, but that was a mission she’d loop others in on later. For now, she just needed to get herself reestablish and let the others know that she was alive.

Finally, a text was sent that the person would receive from an unknown caller, but Natasha using a burner phone was not a new behavior. "Hey -- it's Natasha. I'm in New York. We should meet up, it's been a while. Just send me a location, I'll come to you." Hopefully, everyone would take hearing from a ghost as well as Cap had. Lips twitched as she had a thought, could this be considered the opposite of ghosting?

[memoriesobscured]

New York, New York

[ Nat makes her return to America, and seeks out an old Ally for answers. ]

The last thing Nat remembered for sure, before waking up four days ago, was the battle in Wakanda against Thanos and watching as friends vanished. It bothered her, immensely, that she couldn’t remember how she ended up in a bunker outside of Moscow cuffed to a medical bed and seeing her own clone. It had not taken long to break free once she was actually awake and to dispense with the clone, but Nat knew well enough that whoever had taken her wanted her awake because the rest of the bunker had been cleaned out of any useful information that might tell her how long she had been here, what had happened during that time.

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[narutoworld]

Hope has a way of making you see what you want to see, not necessarily what’s there in front of you. Loss has a way of making you return to what you know in a retreat to safety.  He did ordinarily run in the mornings—he liked to hear the birds and animals awaken and watch the city have a sort of pseudo-revival from the morning sun.

But the feeling of helplessness of losing so many so quickly, and being so powerless to help them, had him returning to what he knew.  Which was, unsurprisingly, physical training.  He’d never shied away from it even before he became a super soldier, but he was admittedly a lot better at it ever since.  It was less of his mind telling his body to keep going when it protested, nowadays, more of his body telling his mind to quiet so he could just focus on the activity.

He ran four laps along his usual route by the Bethesda Fountain trekking through Central Park before he realized there was a callsign where there should be one, and not just a random act of vandalism he tended to ignore.  Natasha probably would’ve been upset with how long he took to take notice of the code, but he’d stopped glancing at it every run because it was a reminder of what he’d lost.  It was, for all intents and purposes, just a part of his past he couldn’t get back.  A reminder of someone he’d lost.  And yet he still stopped completely when he saw it, staring openly in just the way he shouldn’t be inspecting something so innocuous, looking like he’d seen a ghost.  A ghost of a code from a ghost of a woman.

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[memoriesobscured]

Defenses were not something Natasha could put down, after all, what exactly had she been doing for those years? So it was not until Steve's shield clanged on the floor that the Glock held in Nat's left hand under the edge of the kitchen counter while her right hand had still held the food brought to her bright red lips. Disarmed, of not only the weapon but her food as well she was ready for him before he reached her. 

The feeling that leapt through her internally was hard to hide, even for her, as the sweaty man snagged her up in an embrace. "Geeze, Steve, couldn't even bother with a shower first?" Arms wrapped around him to return that embrace and hold it tightly before he put her back on her feet. Once on her feet, Nat took her time taking him in, for what she now knew was the first time in years. The years were at least always kind to him and he was definitely a sight for her sore eyes. She inspected him over, first in the way that he expected checking for any changes to him -- new scars, or anything that would tell her it wasn't him or what he had been up to, but he was as always, perfection. The second look over, that took more time and was one of appreciation for a friend that she was not sure was even still alive. Someone she had spent a lot of time with before that battle while they'd been on the run. "If I had known you were on your way, Rogers, I might have put on more clothes to preserve your modesty. I was not expecting you until morning."

Nat artfully dodged the question he posed, "Well, you know the joke, I got her as fast as I could, Steve,” for the moment. She needed a moment of calm before she could launch into all of that and there was so much she needed an answer. However, for the moment it was just nice to see his face again. "Clint, Bucky, Wanda, Sam," she could go on for a while, " -- everyone? They all make it back? By the looks of you, I take it they took us off the fugitives list?" Steve looked like he wasn't hiding anymore, perhaps after everything the accords really didn't matter. Finally, she had to pick back up her half eaten shawarma wrap for another bite just so she would stop staring at him. The lack of control she felt presently in her life forced her to push up her guarded walls all that much higher just to keep herself going. It had been a very long time since she'd been in this situation. 

Snark and diversions could only offer her so much of a buffer zone around Steve Rogers. Eyes had drifted to staring at her food and she felt his knowing, concerned look and she hated that he was able to tell when she was lying. She was considered one of the best liars in the world and somehow Steve could see through her anymore or perhaps it was just how she felt around him anymore that kept her from being able to withhold the truth anymore, he trusted her and she trusted him. He never asked her to tell his lies and after spending all her life doing just that for various organizations it was always comforting. 

"To be honest, Steve," as she glanced up into those damn big puppy eyes. "Don't use those on me, not now." There was a sigh, "I don't know, the last thing I remember before waking up," she glanced at the clock, "four days ago now, was the battle with Thanos. I remember everything before, but nothing in between." Yes, she was being honest, but it did not mean she was offering a full debriefing at the moment. Hand moved up to push her hair out of her face before snagging it up into a top knot as she refused to let herself fidget with it. "By your reaction, I take it you don't know where I was either. Well, we'll figure it out, but I'm back now."

[memoriesobscured]

New York, New York

[ Nat makes her return to America, and seeks out an old Ally for answers. ]

The last thing Nat remembered for sure, before waking up four days ago, was the battle in Wakanda against Thanos and watching as friends vanished. It bothered her, immensely, that she couldn't remember how she ended up in a bunker outside of Moscow cuffed to a medical bed and seeing her own clone. It had not taken long to break free once she was actually awake and to dispense with the clone, but Nat knew well enough that whoever had taken her wanted her awake because the rest of the bunker had been cleaned out of any useful information that might tell her how long she had been here, what had happened during that time.

However, that was not the only mystery Natasha discovered after her escape -- most of her contacts were gone, far too many to just suspect they had gone to ground. She wondered if they had all been taken by Thanos' snap when she got ahold of an older paper covering the reappearance of those missing with mass amnesia. Not only that but when she saw a current paper she realized she had missed more time than just a few days. That would need to be a concern for another day as Natasha knew that right now she needed to get back to New York and see what of her allies she could find. 

A few days later, it took time to arrange travel when you couldn't find your sources, Natasha had been greeted once more by the sight of the Lady Liberty as she returned to what had been her adopted home base for a while now. She made a stop by central park, marking with a piece of chalk on the Bethesda Fountain, a spot she'd use to communicate with Cap when they'd gone to ground before. She took a chance, hoping that he had his memories, and was still running in the park after everything. The chalk was used to mark out a code to a location of one of their former, and hopefully current safe houses. Nat needed answers and she needed to see a friendly face that wasn't her own.

It was at the safehouse in Brooklyn, in a renovated foreclosure that she'd arranged for the bank to lose track of that Natasha found herself waiting after a good shower and eating the shawarma she'd picked up on her way. Using the burner she'd picked up to browse the news sites, trying to learn anything more that had happened during her absence. At least her memories were still intact from before the battle. 

Lounging in a polka dotted silk blouse and underwear, it was clear that she was not expecting any company that evening since Steve usually ran in the mornings and he was almost always a creature of habit. It was one of the many things she liked about him, always being able to count on his reliability.

[memoriesobscured]

[upadan]

[shes-sweet-but-not-innocent]