Summary: Natalia leaves for a mission on Tuesday and is officially missing by Friday. When James finally does get in touch with her, the last thing he expects is to meet a blonde girl who seems to be guarding Natalia's current safe house.

Natalia disappeared mid-afternoon on a Tuesday, muttering no more than a simple "I'll be back Thursday" and pressing a kiss to his cheek. She'd walked out of the Compound with a duffel bag stocked full of weaponry, snagged one of the quinjets from the hanger, and left her phone behind.

James hadn't worried. He'd nodded along, telling her to stay safe and contact him when she was on her way back. Despite not taking her phone with her, he knew she'd call. She always did and he never worried; not when the mission was casual enough that it didn't require the whole team and Natalia felt confident enough in her own skills not to share more information than her anticipated return date. Even when the quinjet returned the morning after she left, empty and on full autopilot, James had been confused but not worried.

It wasn't until Friday morning rolled around that he grew anxious.

"Where'd the quinjet arrive from?" he asked Stark with a frown. He'd tried to access the jet's log but hadn't been successful. His current hope was that Stark, with the assistance of FRIDAY, could get him an answer.

"FRI?" Stark immediately directed his attention upwards, much to James's amusement.

"No information was provided," FRIDAY responded. Stark joined him in frowning.

"What do you mean 'no information was provided'?" Stark echoed.

"The log was erased during the journey back," FRIDAY answered. Apparently, Natalia had managed to arrange for FRIDAY to erase all information regarding the quinjet's location partway through the return trip. "The jet's location registered over the Atlantic: coordinates 55 degrees―"

Stark cut off the AI with a wave of his hand and a muttered thanks.

"Did she tell you where she was going?" Stark asked. He pulled up the coordinates FRIDAY had started to read off, but James shook his head.

"Didn't say anything at all," James muttered.

He left Stark's lab with the intention to call Hill and ask where Natalia had been sent, but the results from that call were even less satisfying.

"If she's on a mission," Hill told him, "it's not from us."

It wasn't entirely out of character for Natalia to go out on her own, but she rarely did so without giving him more information as to where she'd gone. It might only be a name of a city or country, but it was more than he'd been given this time.

He called Barton, hoping the man wouldn't answer and that he'd accompanied Natalia, but he picked up on the first ring. After yet another dead end, James was growing more worried. With no clue as to where she could have gone, though, there was very little he could do.

He skipped dinner. Working with FRIDAY, he tried to plot out where the quinjet could have come from based on the information collected when it first came back on the map. Unfortunately, the results included most of Europe and much of Eastern Asia.

With a loud groan, he nearly put his fist through the desk only to be interrupted by a sharp ringing.

His phone.

James all but lunged for it. He fumbled with the device as he hastened to answer the unknown call.

"Natalia?" he asked anxiously.

There was a laugh on the other end of the phone and his shoulders dropped in relief.

"Yes," she answered in Russian. "It's me, love."

Before James could either scold her for worrying him or ask if she was okay, Natalia was speaking again.

"I need you to pick me up."

The relief that James had felt earlier was immediately replaced with an overwhelming panic. She was alive and speaking, yes, but if she needed him to pick her up, then something had gone horribly, horribly wrong.

"Yes, of course, doll," James replied. He was already on his feet and reaching for a jacket. "Send me the coordinates and I'll come."

"Okay." Her voice was breathy, not soft like he'd thought it was earlier and the way she said, "I'll see you then, soldier," before the line went dead did nothing to calm his racing heart. Her words died as suddenly as the line and it took everything in him not to rush out of the hangar without a bag.

He packed hastily. He stuffed two medical kits in a backpack, several rounds of ammo, and two handguns. Tossing the backpack over his shoulders, he was in the hangar a minute later and starting up a quinjet as his phone buzzed with Natalia's coordinates.

It would take hours to reach Natalia and even then, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to land a jet by her safe house. He should have asked, but he couldn't call her back now. He'd have to wait and find out when he arrived.

* * * * *

The safe house was in the middle of a forest and hardly qualified as a house, much to James's horror. It looked more like a one-bedroom shack, slanted to the side and covered in moss. He was almost worried that he'd knock it over when he landed the quinjet beside it, but it was sturdier than it looked because it stayed standing.

He flew off the jet, backpack over his shoulder and a gun in hand. He was fully prepared to shoulder his way through the door, knocking once only so Natalia didn't raise a gun at his unexpected entrance. Before he had lowered his hand, though, the door was yanked open and a blonde was scowling at him.

James's gun was up in a blink.

"Oh for fuck's sake," she grumbled in Russian. The sound of the language sent James's skin on fire with panic. "I didn't think it was you that she'd called."

"What the hell does that mean?" James snarled. His attention drifted past her, searching for Natalia.

The blonde stepped aside and James pressed his gun against her forehead.

"Is this really necessary?" she demanded, gesturing to the gun. James didn't move. "She's on the sofa, for christ's sake. I didn't kill her."

James shifted his attention in the direction the blonde had indicated. Sure enough, Natalia was laying on a sofa with her eyes closed. There was a pained frown on her face, though, and her fingers were twitching in her sleep, something that immediately drew James away from the blonde and to Natalia's side.

"Nastasya," he murmured, brushing his flesh hand over her brow.

Natalia's eyes flew open as she pulled herself free of the nightmare. When her gaze landed on him, it was foggy and confused for several seconds.

"James," she breathed. A small smile crossed her face. "You came."

"Of course I did, love," James replied. "You asked me to, didn't you?"

"Yelena made me," Natalia muttered with a frown. James frowned, turning back to glance at the blonde who gave him a small wave and a scowl.

"I told her to call a ride home," she said in English, "not the Winter Soldier."

"It's James, sister," Natalia interrupted in Russian. "He'll always come for me."

"I see that now," Yelena said. She turned to James and explained, "She hit her head. Hard. She's been speaking Russian ever since and while I love her, I cannot stand her any longer. Plus, I have places to be."

"Sister?" James echoed Natalia's earlier words. Yelena nodded once.

"Secret sister," Natalia informed him which, yeah, James had figured as much since he'd never heard of the girl before.

"You'll take care of her from here on out?" Yelena asked. James nodded. "Great. I'll get her stuff and you'll drop me off in Berlin."

James didn't argue as Yelena slipped off to grab Natalia's bag.

"You didn't tell me about Yelena," he murmured, trying not to be upset by the idea.

"I didn't tell anyone," Natalia told him. "She's―It's a difficult part of my past."

"Alright," James said softly. He brushed a kiss to her temple. "You don't have to explain."

He helped her stand and all but carried her to the quinjet. Yelena followed with two bags in her hands. While James prepared the quinjet for takeoff and put in the coordinates Yelena gave him, Yelena got herself situated in the back. To James's left, Natalia was sitting with her eyes closed. She wasn't asleep, but she wasn't aware enough of her surroundings to retaliate when Yelena called her out for sleeping like an old person.

"You're gonna need to fill me in on just what happened," James said, glancing back at Yelena as they took off. "If she's this out of it, she did more than hit her head."

"Oh, definitely," Yelena agreed. "Whatever drug is in her system is doing the most damage―"

James choked on her breath, wheezing out a weak, "Drug?"

"―but she'll be in the clear by tomorrow," Yelena continued. She paused, frowned, then shrugged. "Probably. I don't actually know, though."

James sighed and, after ensuring the quinjet was set to take them to Yelena's next destination, he turned and asked for the full story.