He used to call me DN, that stood for Deadly Nightshade.

[relicta]

Natasha is exhausted. So much more than the bone-tiredness and broken-heartedness of her return from Sokovia. No, this is much, much worse.

She's been in front of every security council all the way up to the top, private and public courts both. Just when she thinks it's over they have one more question, they stretch things on one more day. She thinks of Steve often; always, but they took away her phone on day one. She has no idea what's changed, though she told herself she wouldn't go back to their little shack. He has to decide to come out of the shadows for himself -- she's done all she can.

They finally release her, and she can't put this black site behind her quickly enough. Fury is in the pick-up car. His silence is worse than all the interrogations combined so she looks out the window and tries to shut her brain off.

She's essentially dumped out onto the curb in front of her shitty little apartment and it's all she can do not to lose it right there. If it weren't for Liho she wouldn't even go up, but she needs to know if he's still there.

The first thing she hears is a piercing meow and she sighs a breath of relief even as she pushes open the door that was already ajar, lock hanging off the frame. Natasha puts a hand on her sidearm and wades into what she's sure is a mess. All of her cabinets and drawers are off the hinges, the contents poured out on the floor like much care was taken to categorically destroy her every belonging. She feels nothing for this place, but anger stews somewhere below the surface anyway. Because she knows what they're looking for -- who. It makes her stomach tie itself in knots even as she plucks a tuna can off the tile and opens it for her poor cat.

"Sorry I'm so shitty," she sighs, turning on her heel to find a bag for her clothes, knowing none of her weapons will be here. She doesn't even bother to look. Nat stuffs essentials into a duffle bag and pulls out a simple outfit of jeans and a striped hoodie jacket from under the rubble of her former life. After taking the coldest, most efficient shower ever, she combs her hair into a low-hanging ponytail and puts on some lipstick. That always inexplicably makes her feel better, even at her lowest.

Locating the cat carrier somewhere at the bottom of a closet, she carefully sneaks up on the still-somewhat-feral cat and slips the bag over his head before scooping him up and zipping it shut without an incident. She pops her duffle over one shoulder and carries Liho in her other arm like precious cargo, ready for anything even as she boards the subway in a beeline for Stark...no. Avengers Tower. It's the only place they can't get to her, even if the last person she wants to rely on is Tony now. She's still mad at Clint even if it's dumb. She can't go back to the farm and risk his family anyway.

After fielding a really long conversation with a homeless guy and putting up with more than her fair share of staring, Natasha makes it to Manhattan. She all but runs to a place she never thought she'd call home, but right now it's about the closest thing she's got. Gently setting Liho down, she begins hacking whatever new system Tony's put in place. A woman's voice startles her even as the door unlocks for her entry, swinging open a few inches so she can catch the door in one hand. "You could have just used your code, Agent Romanoff. He hasn't changed it."

This must be JARVIS' replacement. She picks the cat carrier back up and ducks inside before she can be noticed from the street, trying to ignore the rising tide of far too many emotions now. Tony didn't change her code. JARVIS is gone. Where is Steve? Is he safe? It's too much to worry for now, but if she's welcome here then she can at least sleep. She wants to sleep for days. She doesn't want to talk to or see anyone, least of all Tony and Pepper, who always have so many questions.

When the doors to the car spring open to the penthouse at last, she can't believe her eyes. Is she so sleep-deprived she's hallucinating? Her jaw falls slack, the clothes dropping like a stone to the floor when she loosens her grip on the bag. Liho of course, is stubbornly clenched in the other, and he lets out a loud mrrrrrow as if in greeting to Steve himself.