Work Text:
I own nothing
Natasha was finally getting her piece of the American dream. Or rather, a dream that began when her grandparents escaped from behind the Iron Curtain over 50 years ago. Settling in Brighton Beach, her dedushka i babushka dreamed of owning the quintessential two story home with a white picket fence. That dream however was laid aside when the expense of five children became a reality. For Natasha’s parents, the city was too deeply engrained in their selves to ever desire to leave. Natasha though, having grown up listening to her grandparent’s forgone dreams couldn’t wait to leave. And after discovering her love and talent for ballet, used it to travel the world.
Eventually the longing for stability and the draw to put down roots became too strong and she returned to New York. While visiting Clint Barton, her best friend who lived upstate, Natasha missed a turn and ended up down an unknown road. She was just about to turn around when she saw it. The house from her grandparent’s stories, just as she had always imagined. And there was a For Sale sign out-front.
Just two months later Natasha was a delighted first time home-owner. However, her first and only car, a 1982 Mercedes-Benz 380SEL, gave out on her causing her the need to find a replacement. Not wanting a modern cookie-cutter vehicle she scoured the classic car adds and an estate sale add caught her eye. A young woman’s father had collected “junk” for over 30 years, his discarded treasure spanning nearly 7 acres. After searching four hours Natasha’s breath was taken away by a beautiful red car forgotten in an old barn at the back of the property, hidden beneath a green army tarp.
With the help of Clint and a tow-truck they delivered the car to Natasha’s home. After some research they discovered that she had purchased a 1940 Packard Darrin Convertible Victoria. While cleaning out bits of leaves and twigs Natasha opened the glove box and found a note dated 1941 saying:
“My name is Captain Steven Rogers,
And if you’re reading this, then I didn’t make it home. I’m not sure if we won the war, for all I know you might speak German or Japanese and have no idea what this even says. Hopefully this is truly the war that ends wars, but if not I guess to some our sacrifice might seem pointless. But in all honesty, I don’t like bullies, I don’t care where their from.
Included with this note is a picture of me, this car and my best friend James Barnes, better known as Bucky (I’m the one on the right). After the war I'd like to become an art teacher, Bucky wants to marry Gail Richards when everything's over. But I guess he didn’t make it either because I told him to take Sarah (I named the car after my mother) should something happen to me. But for every dream that shattered, another one comes true. This car was once a dream of mine, now it belongs to you. And though you may take her and make her your own
You’ll always be riding with Captain Rogers”
Looking at the old photograph Natasha viewed two men wearing military uniforms, their arms thrown across each others shoulders, their smiles bright and full of life. One had dark hair and a mischievous glint in his eyes. He was also slightly shorter and leaner then his companion. The other, Steven, was broad and tall, his face classically handsome and his smile open and trusting. After showing both to Clint she placed the note back in the glove box but kept the photograph and placed it among her own personal photos hanging on her French Bulletin Board within her living room.
It didn’t take long for Clint, Nat, and Tony their genius engineering friend to have the car restored and running. Natasha loved to hear the horses thundering under the hood. The only issue was the radio never seemed to work quite right, but it would pick up the Oldies station, especially late at night. But not long after the car was once again working did Natasha start noticing strange things. Like if she turned really quick she’d swear a soldier was riding shotgun right next to her. The first time it happened she was scared nearly to death. She was halfway through dialing 911 thinking she had nearly hit someone when she remembered the picture and note she had found. Rushing home she grabbed the photograph and stared disbelieving at the face of her phantom passenger.
After that it became sort of a game to her to talk to Steve as she drove. She old him about her parents, grandparents, traveling the world with her ballet company. And it seemed as if he listened to her, that his presence was intelligent, and she’d often feel his feelings and emotions reflected back on to her.
The reality of his consciousness became apparent though one fateful night. It was the anniversary of her grandparent’s deaths and a time truly hard for Natasha. Hoping to cope more easily she downed an entire bottle of Vodka. The alcohol didn’t seem help much so she decided to get more, but halfway to her destination her intoxication hit her like a wall. A surprisingly soft male voice seemed to echo in her head telling her to pull over, but her grief and inebriation addled brain pushed the warning aside. With a sharp “Shut up Rogers.” she took a curve way too fast.
Waking up in the hospital Natasha was told she was lucky to be alive. The doctor also informed her that the person who called for help reported seeing a uniformed soldier pulling her from the wreckage. They didn’t get his name but Natasha knew who it was, Captain Steven Rogers.
However, realizing that the loss of her car meant the loss of Steve, she faced the reality that she had inadvertently fallen for him. She was in love with a man who had been dead for 73 years.
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