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Note: The image can be viewed on my tumblr Lovedrr tagged 'pic-fics' post #110037095570.

The Hero and The Princess

February 14th

02:14 p.m.

Little Ukraine, New York

The text on her phone simply read:

'Information exchange meeting alert.

Coordinates imminent.

Meet at 7.'

It was the message which would change her life …

February 14th

7:00 p.m.

New York, New York

Evansson Theater

The size of the crowd attending the small Valentine's Day festival was nearly perfect. It was large enough that a couple could remain conspicuous, but not so dense that one would bump into another person with every step. There were more attendees than had been anticipated for the festival, and some of the activity involved many last minute alterations being moved, added and adjusted.

Situated on a walkway overlooking the city streets, Steven "The Captain" Rogers rested casually on the railing as he stared thoughtfully out at the lights below him.

Sometimes, even the greatest leaders in history doubt themselves. Steve found himself wondering if he had done the right thing concerning the spy. Perhaps in trying to draw her closer in, he may have inadvertently pushed her away.

As leader of The Avengers, Steve had taken it upon himself to try to form them into more of a team after the battle of New York. Once a month, he would contact each of them and have a meeting. Initially, he purposed them under the guise of exchanging information, but everyone knew very well that with the tech at their disposal, all info could be transferred electronically. Still, all of them also knew that everything The Captain did was for the best for everyone, and they readily agreed to meet each month.

The meetings with Natasha had become somewhat different than with the others. After meeting at the old cemetery and a few parks, they had started meeting at his malt shop, then to have dinner together at restaurants, and last month they had met at an old movie theater and even stayed to enjoy the war documentary together.

The fact that the two of them had grown closer was undeniable, but he wondered if she would shy away from meeting with him on this particular day of the year. He knew that she was single and unattached, but she might not want to see him tonight. All he wanted to do was to spend a special evening with her and uplift her spirits for a short time.

Waiting patiently on the walkway, Steve looked at his watch and lowered his head with a sigh.

Maybe this meeting was a little too much like a date.

Slowly drawing near the walkway high above the city block, Natasha "The Black Widow" Romanoff again wondered if she should have come to this festival tonight.

Thinking of Steve, she didn't deny to herself that she wanted to see him. These little monthly meetings of his had become highlights in her lonely life between her personal missions of seeking out the remnants of The Red Room. However, seeing him on this specific night wasn't exactly conducive to her plan of keeping distance between the two of them. Even though she had no difficulty resisting men, which she had been doing effectively for years, Steven Grant Rogers was the one anomaly for her among the male species. He seemed to have an uncanny ability to make her feel things foreign to her. This man was special to her, and that fact made her wary of him.

When she had received his message to meet, the vigilant spy had researched all the information on the date and location, as The Captain had known she would. It was obvious that he was taking her out for Valentine's Day evening. Checking out the coordinates he'd sent in his second text had revealed a small park which was holding a festival for the occasion featuring a ballet company with which she was very familiar. The dress code was upscale and elegant, and as she read more about the Russian centric festival, she couldn't help but be impressed with his taste.

The reserved spy couldn't deny that she had immensely enjoyed staying to watch the war documentary with him at the small play house they had met at last month. Being with him like that had felt a lot like a date, and it had been far more pleasurable for her than she cared to admit to herself. Seeing him on this particular night of the year was probably a bad idea, she had thought continuously as she'd been getting dressed for their monthly "meeting."

As she caught sight of him of waiting outside on the open air walkway, all her inhibitions faded. They were replaced by a calm desire for his company and presence near her. Not hesitating a moment longer, she stepped through the sliding glass doors to join him.

"I never did make it to the Smithsonian. Are the fossils still kept on ice?" the snarky spy called to him.

Steve lowered his head and laughed heartily. As detached as Natasha was with most people on the outside, her attempts at wit and humor could be disarming, at least to him. She always seemed to get the best of him in their verbal exchanges.

"That's hilarious," he answered, straightening his suit as he turned around to greet her.

Natasha Romanoff was walking along the walkway directly toward him, and she was a breathtaking sight. Her hair was up in a subtle bun with a few gorgeous red strands hanging down to frame her lovely face, and her lipstick matched her dress to perfection. She wore a long gently flowing bright red dress, which hung off her shoulders and tapered down to her slim waist and hips. It flowed outward over her legs, just barely allowing tantalizing glimpses of the five inch ankle strap red high heel classic pumps which adorned her feet. A thin transparent red shawl covered her neck and shoulders and hung over her upper arms with a near sensual allure. The picture she presented was the epitome of class and elegance.

Steve's mouth dropped open involuntarily. His lips were suddenly dry, and there didn't seem to be any air to breathe around him. Strangely, his amazed mind retreated into tactical evaluation. Looking at Natasha Romanoff like this, he felt a quick jolt of sadness for any of the marks she had been ordered to dispatch in the past. With her looking like this, those poor bastards would have been completely disarmed and absolutely defenseless against her. No red blooded man alive was immune to her feminine wiles… including himself. He had seen her look stunning before, but there was just something more striking about her in this moment.

Natasha was very fond of Steve's stunned speechlessness. That had been the exact reaction she had been going for. The spy knew that she could make herself attractive to men, but she didn't want to dwell on the fact that she had taken extra special care in her makeup and attire for this specific man on this particular night. Following this train of thought would reveal too much of her inner feelings for him.

"Are those for me?" she asked demurely, glancing down at his hands.

"Oh! Yeah! Yes, they are," Steve said quickly, fumbling around to hold up the dozen red roses he'd brought for her. "There were tons of these laying around so I just thought I'd grab some for you," he said as he placed them in her hands.

"Very astute, Soldier," she said kindly.

"May I have this dance?" Steve said as he held out his forearm for her to slip her arm across, the two of them now presenting the classic picture of the gentleman and his lady.

"With pleasure," she replied cordially.

"What's been going on?" asked Steve, allowing his concern for her to show through.

"None of the leads I told you about last month have turned up anything," she answered. "There doesn't seem to be much information out there to find, and that's a good thing. Have you heard anything about where he might be?"

"Not a single lead. It seems that The Winter Soldier can be almost as elusive as you. How long are you in town this time?"

"I leave for Kiev next week. Your timing is excellent as always. You picked quite a day for this meeting."

"Coincidence," the soldier said with his boyish charm. "Pure coincidence."

"You're still a terrible liar," the spy smiled genuinely.

"Come on," he urged her with a grin. "We don't have long until the performance starts."

"You know, it's okay if you don't feel like staying for this, Steve," she said quickly, suddenly rethinking this entire night and his close proximity to her. "We could just exchange projected schedules and call it a night. Are you sure about this?"

"Yeah. It'll be fun."

The pedestrian traffic increased as they neared the official festival convention center. As they drew closer to the pavilion, Natasha stared up at the lighted billboard. Although she had researched the location and events for the evening when she had first gotten his message, her heart still fluttered at the sight.

The sign read:

"Russian Ballet - In Town - One Night Only"

Natasha thoughtfully looked down at the roses in her hand. Steve probably had no idea how much this particular ballet company meant to her, and he had hit on just the perfect evening, certainly without even actually trying.

As they made their way inside the performance auditorium, Natasha couldn't help but enjoy the extra special attention Steve lavished her with on this holiday evening. He held her hand every step they took together. He kept her arms tucked under his own in a southern gentleman style as if he was worried she might fall, despite her perfect balance in her high heels. He was almost overly protective of her, even though he was fully aware of the fact that she could kill five men with her bare hands even wearing this dress and these shoes.

The sexy spy had made certain to wear the highest pair of heels that she kept in her arsenal this evening. She had tried to tell herself that it wasn't for the purpose of closing the gap in their height difference… should that become necessary… which it wouldn't, of course… but just in case. When you lie to so many people on a repetitive basis, one can make the mistake of even getting good at lying to themselves.

As they walked up the grand staircase to their prime balcony seating, Steve had even taken the extra step of holding her left forearm in his left hand while his right arm wrapped around her waist and stayed there. His touch felt so warm, so warm down to the depths of her soul, and she found herself holding her roses in her left hand as she placed her right hand over his to hold it against her. He escorted her like this all the way until they reached their private seating booth.

The lovely spy found herself humbled by his old fashioned attention. He was so attentive to her that it was disarming. He had obviously paid a lot for these seats, as the attendants were instantly on hand to see to their every desire. She knew that Steve would never hurt for money with the back pay he had received from the military, but she was still struck by the fact that he had arranged all this just for her. From any other man, she would not even have tolerated this kind of overly concerned hovering, but with Steve, it felt comforting like a warm blanket. He was a man, but to her, he was as different from any other man she had ever known in her life as if he were an alien. He was so right. Too right.

Steve and Natasha settled into their seats just as the lights in the auditorium began to dim and the crowd gave an introductory applause to the ballet company.

The performance was a mastery of art and workmanship. The Black Widow well understood every movement, every octave and every element of the dance. She marveled at each second of it. The story was captivating and enthralling, telling of a lonely young woman growing up and having to live on the streets until she was found to have an aptitude for ballet, going on to become the world's leading ballerina. It was an extrapolation of the real life story of the company's star phenom ballerina Natvanya Roskolov. The performance was a truly tremendous spectacle.

In the stirring finale of the play, Natasha's vision became blurred. It took her a moment to realize that tears had welled in her eyes. As soon as the first one slipped out onto her cheek and she raised a hand to wipe it away, Steve's fingers were already collecting it. They smiled to each other tenderly.

After the exquisite performance, the crowd gave a standing ovation. Steve and Natasha stood and joined them, but she was too stricken with emotion to clap heartily. As always, Steve noticed everything about her, and she caught him watching her intently. She had always found his attentiveness to her somewhat unnerving, as it directly contradicted her efforts to keep him at arm's length, constantly softening and opening her heart to him in ways she had never experienced.

"I have a surprise for you," he leaned over to whisper in her ear.

As the curtains closed and the audience began to disperse, the soldier again hooked the spy's arm around his own and started to draw her down through the crowd toward the stage. They neared the doorway leading to the stage, and Natasha looked up at Steve in surprise, a deep glow hidden within the depths of her eyes.

"Backstage passes," he told her as a kind faced usher opened the door for them.

Steve took a moment to show the usher their ticket designation allowing the entry, and then they were walking across the brightly lit stage toward its center. There were other civilians on the stage with the performers, some relatives, some friends, and a select few others also with backstage passes. A tall man with a graceful stride quickly made his way over to them.

"Mr. Rogers," he greeted with a firm handshake and a thick Russian accent. "I am Master Paulkin. I asked to be informed of your arrival. Your sizable donation to tonight's performance did not go unnoticed by my accountants. My performers and I wanted to thank you personally."

"That's exceedingly kind of you, Master Paulkin," Steve responded with the kind humility which made the world love him. "However, I actually made the donation on behalf of one of my associates. I believe you have a particular benefactor that has been supporting your ballet company for the last seven years. This is a colleague of mine, and I'm here to extend best wishes to you."

"Oh my," Master Paulkin's face lit up with a nearly glowing smile. "I… I have so long awaited this moment. We have received money, but never a word from our benefactor. Very few people know about this, so I know you are genuine in what you say. Wait, please!"

He called loudly and happily to his performers on the stage, and quickly the conversation died down as the entire company began to walk over to the center of the stage. All of them, from the top ballet experts to the trainers to the lighting specialists all began to make their way over to Steve and Natasha. Steve smiled as Natasha looked around them with a slight apprehension in her eyes. She was not accustomed to having so much attention focused on her.

"This couple is here to represent our mysterious benefactor!" Master Paulkin announced loudly in english. "Please! Show them our appreciation so they can take it back to… "

His words were drowned out by the massive applause and shouting which erupted from the performers. Their elation seemed almost infinite. Some of them were suddenly tearful in their immense joy. A few of them stepped over to vigorously embrace Steve while some of them hugged Natasha awkwardly.

"Please! Please! Give them space!" Master Paulkin finally had to calm them down. "Let us speak a moment in private so I may share with them our story."

The company began to disperse somewhat reluctantly, and Master Paulkin led them over toward a corner away from the center of the stage.

"You must understand," he began quietly in his accented english. "We are not the, how do you say, 'premier,' performance company. We chose not to sell out to the government of our land and allow agents into our midst to carry out missions as we tour all over the world, using us a disguise. We are dirt poor, and many of us would be… living on the streets… or worse… if not for the funding your friend provided. We are indeed among some of the most talented performers in our country, but ability means little in a world dominated by commerce," he said as he stared intently at them, desperate to convey the depth of his heart. Then, he raised his voice. "Natvanya! Natvanya!" he called loudly. "Come here, Natvanya!"

Almost instantly, a little wisp of a girl, thin and almost frail, appeared at his side. Steve immediately recognized her as the young girl which had flawlessly performed the part of the lead character. From a distance, she had appeared much more virile. Yet, now seeing her up close, her impoverished state was so evident that it immediately became surprising that she was able to perform so excellently.

Steve couldn't stop staring at the little girl. The color of her hair was a bright shade of fiery auburn red. She was almost the perfect picture… of a young Natalia Alianovna Romanova.

"This is… ," Master Paulkin began pridefully.

"Natvanya Illyana Roskolov," Natasha finished for him. "The child prodigy. Known as a phenom around the world," she said with a gentle smile down at the child, her words obviously intended to lift the little girl. "She finished first in her class in pre-training and mid-training, was promoted to train with the top grade in her beginner's study, and has outshown other ballet performers over ten years her senior all over the world." She paused as she stared down at the child. "You are a very good girl, Natvanya," she said in a heartfelt whisper.

As the master ballet instructor was distracted by the praise of his brightest jewel, Steve focused on Natasha. Steve could tell that the words she had spoken to the young Natvanya… were words the little Natalia had longed to hear. No one had ever told her that she was good in her formative years, the years when she needed the adoration of a parent to guide her. No one had ever given her warm words. No one had been there. No, Natalia had been left out in the cold.

In her life now, she did what she could to help some of those in need, even anonymously, not wanting others to suffer her fate. In this moment, he found himself wondering if there were any tears hidden behind the practiced mask she used to cover her emotions.

"Now, little Natvanya," Natasha continued as she leaned down toward the little girl. "I want you to… "

Her words were interrupted as the small angel suddenly leaped forward with the speed of a cat and snapped her thin arms around Natasha's neck. She held on for dear life in a firm grip, her tiny feet almost dangling off the floor in her zeal. Natasha's arms hesitated, hanging in the air around the small doll of a child… and then, she slowly hugged her back.

For Natasha, there was suddenly no sound in the room around her.

"You must understand," Master Paulkin whispered to Steve, not wanting to disturb the beautiful moment taking place before his eyes. "Little Natvanya… had been on the streets before she was found. She had been abused. She was lost. She would certainly have ended up dead in a gutter somewhere. Then, when she was found, it was discovered that she was something of a savant."

"Gifted in ballet?" Steve followed in a whisper.

"Extremely. But, deficient in other ways. She will need care for most of her life. And also, help overcoming her trauma. If not for our benefactor, she certainly would have perished," he said near tears.

"I understand," said Steve, consoling the master instructor.

Natasha held little Natvanya tighter. The child did the same, squeezing with all her might. Natvanya began to cry. Natasha held back her tears.

"So!" Master Paulkin said loudly to regain himself. "I… I am not usually so emotional in front of my performers. I must remain the tough father figure, you know?" he smiled.

"They are lucky to have you," Steve answered with a kind smile which didn't reach his eyes. "Many of us grew up with no father at all."

"Tell our benefactor… thank you, from the depths of my soul," Master Paulkin said as he pulled Steve into a hug.

"Consider it done," whispered Steve, staring over at Natasha in her quietly solemn moment.

Natasha looked up at Steve, and he saw the unshed tears hidden within the depths of her eyes. This moment had touched her more deeply than she ever could have imagined. The inquisitive soldier had indeed somehow known that she had been financially supporting this ballet company for years. Although she would probably never have taken this step, she was grateful to him for leading her to this moment.

She could see that Steve's eyes were full of pride in her, admiring her giving of herself to these people in need. The emotions in his eyes and the feelings from the little angel in her arms were almost overwhelming. The spy allowed a gentle smile to grace her lips as she humbly closed her eyes.

The spy could only barely comprehend the effect this man had upon her. His orchestrating this moment touched her on a level so deep inside that she wasn't yet able to fully process it. In the midst of this gentle solemn moment, her mind wondered if his steps this evening were those of a friend, or a partner, or perhaps something more…