Distressed // Steve Rogers

2 - Loose Ends

Waking to the soft glow of morning light and the beeps and whirs of machinery was jarring to her senses. It took a moment for Talia to piece together the events of the past few days but she knew where she was as soon as her eyes fluttered open. After all, Stark technology was easy to identify.

Her mind was groggy, no doubt from whatever pain medication was now being pushed through her veins via the peripheral IV now in her left hand, but she needed to figure out what the situation was before anyone realised she was awake.

Straining against the cloudy mist of medication she tired to focus her mind and listen to the muffled voices arguing quietly on the other side of the door.

The person speaking was pissed. That was clear as day. His voice had a pleasant ring to it but it was dripping with anger and distrust. Whoever he was, he was not happy she was here.

"So what Nat? You have a secret sister that somehow slipped your mind on the list of important things to tell us and you expect us to just trust her? She shows up out of nowhere, gunshot wound to the stomach, completely battered and bruised and you just want us to accept her in? Am I getting that right?" The more he spoke the louder he became.

"No Steve," Natasha seethed. Talia smirked. Of course it was the human icicle that didn't want her here. "I don't. I don't even know if I trust her. But she is my sister and I thought she was dead. So as my friend, as my team mate, I am asking you to just give me time. That's all I am asking."

As Talia shifted she groaned. The sound forced the two avengers into a conflicted silence as Steve pulled Nat further away from her sister's room in the medical centre.

Nat fixed him with an icy glare, hoping he'd give in before she did. She hated arguing with Steve. Eventually he sighed.

"Fine Nat. Go. See if she's okay. But I want you to know I'm not comfortable with her being here."

"You've made that very clear Cap." Natasha sauntered away from Steve, trying to remain cool and level headed despite the building anxiety she now felt as she took slow steps towards a conversation she never thought she'd have.

In her hospital bed Talia had lifted her shirt and was inspecting the ragged incision left behind from the bullet that had lodged in her abdomen and the subsequent surgery someone had apparently performed on her.

"Bye bye bikinis," she muttered with an acidic laugh.

In the doorway Natasha stood with her arms folded - a protective stance - and watched as Talia lowered the t-shirt Nat had dressed her in while she slept. Talia winced slightly as she tried to sit up and, although all she wanted to do was run and help her baby sister, Nat did not move.

"Long time no see," she lifted her chin slightly. "What are you doing here Tal?"

"Isn't it obvious? I'm here to irritate the Ice-pop!" Sarcasm swam through her words as she looked at her sister, angry and defensive. When Nat didn't so much as smile Talia exhaled and lay back. "Why do you think I'm here Nat? I've got nowhere else to go."

After a moment Nat seemed to soften slightly. Her eyes lost their judgement and she dropped her arms to her sides as she moved into the room and sat in the soft blue chair beside Talia's hospital bed. There was a small table that could be wheeled over Talia's bed sat between them and Nat pulled it towards her, putting her feet up as she took in a deep breath and ran her hands over her face and through her hair.

Talia knew Nat was mad at her. She'd expected nothing less.

"I thought you were dead Talia. Everyone thought you were dead." Her voice was thick, like she was biting back tears. "If you want me to help you, I need to know how the hell you're alive."

Talia nodded and looked to the ceiling. The florescent light buzzed above her and she focused on the erratic flicker of the bulb as she spoke.

"You graduated Nat. You graduated and you left and you hardly ever came back... and no matter how hard I tried, I never lived up to their precious Black Widow." Talia's breath was coming in thicker than usual as she thought back to the days she had so desperately tried to escape. "They wanted to test me. So after months of being punished and beaten for every tiny perceived mistake they sent me on mission. My target was strong Nat. Really strong."

Talia felt the squeeze of Nat's hand as she interlaced their fingers. The ragged nature of Talia's breathing tugged at Nat's heart and the guilt she had felt eleven years ago resurfaced.

"Okay," she sighed, "but that doesn't answer my question Tal. How are you alive?"

"We were mid-fight and I had him." Talia continued, her eyes misting with the memory of the man she fought when she was just a teenager. "I had him Nat and I could have killed him. He was so strong, but he relied on it. It was like his only form of attack was his strength and I was smarter than him. I could match every single blow and counter every attempt to hurt me and I did. I was winning. But then something just snapped in me Nat and I - I ran. I saw an opportunity to get out and disappear and I took it. When I didn't go back they assumed I failed and honestly, he was strong enough it was believable. But I didn't fail Nat. I ran away. Can you blame me for that?"

Nat waited for her baby sister to look at her. Both women were crying silent tears for the past they had lived - the past they had each fought so hard to escape.

"No Munch, I can't blame you." She blamed herself.

*

Down the hall Tony and Steve stood in whispered conversation.

"What's your gut telling you Capsicle?" Stark pressed.

Steve paced the hall as he thought. He didn't know why but something about this whole situation didn't sit right with him.

"For Nat's sake I hope she's here for the right reasons Tony... but I don't trust her. I don't know her, but I don't trust her."

Tony grinned. Of course he had a plan. "Great."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Why is that great Stark?"

"Because she can bunk with you. You can keep a close eye on her, suss her out, and if something feels off, we hand her over to Fury."

There was a contemplative silence as Steve Rogers, America's poster boy for perfection, thought it over.

"Deal," he sighed. "But we keep Nat out of this which means Banner can't know either."

*

The sting of guilt was like razor blades under her skin. Natasha looked at her kid sister, always so strong and determined as a child, and realised she looked smaller somehow. Like eleven years on the run had forced her to shrink into herself.

"So they found you?"

Talia looked over at the woman she had once so desperately wanted to become and felt the tears swimming in her eyes.

"Yeah. And you know how they deal with loose ends Nat." Her eyes wandered to her stomach and so did Nat's.

"I know how they deal with loose ends."