He'd seen flashes of her everywhere. She would be standing on the other side of the street but then a bus would go by and she'd be gone. He'd be at the library and out of the corner of his eye, he would catch a glimpse of her long scarlet hair before it vanished in an instant.

Sometimes, he wonders if he's crazy. Maybe the medicine is making him see things again. Each morning, he takes pills for his depression and PTSD. After almost five years of serving in Iraq and losing many buddies in the process, the solider must take each day as it is. He's 28 now and he's only been living in the "real world" for two years. Obviously, if he's seeing things, he hasn't adjusted yet. Before he joined the army, at his father's demand, he'd wanted to become a comic book artist. Having no time in the army to chase his dream, he hadn't gotten back into the spirit of writing after all the tragedies he'd witnessed.

"You know, it's rude to stare," a rough voice echoes from somewhere in his apartment as he unlocks the door. He throws his bag down and races over to where he hears the voice coming from. A shadow looms across the floor of his bedroom. 'I locked the door, didn't I?' he asks himself.

He almost freezes when he sees his ghost girl, but she definitely isn't normal. Her long, blood red waves float around her face like a halo. "Whaaa—" His jaw drops and his tongue feels like lead in his mouth.

'She's… she's…' is all he can think because his brain is short-circuiting. He can't stop staring, even after her comment. She's floating, like she's surrounded by a field of antigravity, next to his fire escape before lighting down onto the windowsill. She seems at ease as she crosses her arms and leans against the window frame, not at all worried that if she leans back she'll free-fall to the ground hundreds of feet below.

"Shut your mouth," she snarks in a playful tone, a quirk to her lips and fire in her jade green eyes. "You'll catch flies and you know that New York City flies can kill you."

He feels himself thaw at the easy way she's talking to him. She reminds him of one of the male characters on his kid sister's young adult TV shows: the snarky guy that always had a smirk on his face and a smartass comment in his back pocket for emergencies. He watches her as she hops into the room and brushes off the nonexistent dirt on her pants.

The young woman before him is dressed just like any normal person walking the streets of the city. "Who…?" he chokes on his words before trying again. "Who are you?"

She sticks out her hand toward him in a friendly gesture with a Cheshire cat grin on her face. "The name's Natasha." Her movements are rough, as is her hand when he shakes it. It speaks of hard work and intense labor and the idea that this hand has not known kindness.

"My name's Steve," he tentatively shakes her hand. "It's nice to meet you."

She nods, long brown hair swirling in the breeze coming in from his open window. "Yeah, now you don't have to keep wondering the name of the girl you're stalking."

His cheeks turn a rosy red color at her statement. "I… I wasn't stalking you," he retorts, "You just happened to be in every place I happened to be."

"Mm-kay." She nods her head even as her eyes twinkle with mischievous laughter.

"So, what are you doing here?" he asks, motioning to his room. "How'd you do that floating thingy?"

"Oh, that," she throws her thumb over her shoulder at the window. "I'm not really sure but I've been able to do it all my life."

He tries to say something else, but her stomach interrupts him with a growl. She flushes and clutches her stomach, whispering chastising things and shaking a finger at it.

"Sorry," she apologizes. "I haven't eaten anything all day."

"Well, you're in luck," he turns his back to her before throwing her own smirk over his shoulder at her. "I just ordered in a box of the best pizza in the city. It should be here any minute." The doorbell rings right on time and she giggles again. He pays the delivery boy and brings the hot pizza over to the small kitchen area.

"You know, it's been a long time since I've had anyone over for dinner," Steve remarks as he gets out plates for them to eat on. She opens the box and stares, wide eyed, at the cheese pizza. "Sorry if it's a bit plain." His cheeks flush with color.

"Are you kidding me?" her voice is almost shrill with excitement. "I love cheese pizza!" She pulls out a slice and immediately devours it before reaching for another.

He watches her scarf down food with a small smile on his face before she notices him and slows down. "Sorry," she apologizes before she continues as though she is a professional pizza eater. He rolls his eyes at the thought.

"S'okay," he nods to her and raises his own slice of the pie. She laughs and knocks the side of her slice against his before they both go back to eating.

---

It's been almost four months since Natasha set foot in his apartment and those months have been the happiest times of his life. He discovers over many a box of pizza that she was a lab accident. Her "mother" and "father" had never met her or each other. She learns that he'd always wanted to design and create his own comics but, after being in the army so long, he's lost his touch. She also learns that Christmas time is his favorite time of the year.

Steve breathes in the smell of fresh snow as he leans his elbows against the railing, waiting for her. His breath fogs up the glass so he draws faces and makes his own in the slight reflection. All of a sudden, he sees a figure charging at the window carrying a large bundle above its head. It's too big to be a bird and definitely too small to be a plane.

"Incoming!" he hears the shout over the roar of the wind and suddenly opens the window and dives to the side. There's a huge crash and a groan.

"What the hell?" he cries as he sees Natasha sitting up and rubbing her forehead. Her hair is covered in pine needles and she's almost buried inside the small Christmas tree. "You okay?"

Natasha chuckles and grabs his offered hand. "I'm fine," she reassures him, "although you might wanna clean up your bedroom." She flushes when she sees a huge pile of pine needles surrounding a shape on the floor that vaguely resembles her butt. "Sorry." He just chuckles and helps her pull the tree into the living room.

It takes them almost three hours to decorate the tree. Most of two hours are spent arguing over which star should go on the top and what color the lights should be. He says they should be pure white, while she wants multicolored. In the end she wins by a thumb wrestle and he complains that he was a solider and he was beaten by a girl. She pouts for about all of five seconds before pulling the star from his hands and gently putting it on top of the tree.

Hours later, when the heater is turned on and they're safely wrapped in a blanket with cookies and pizza and eggnog in their stomachs, she turns to him and smiles. It's a soft smile, one he rarely ever sees on her, but it seems to make her even more beautiful in the dim light of the Christmas tree.

"Thank you," she whispers as she snuggles into his side.

"For what?" he asks, looking down at her in confusion.

"For making this the best Christmas ever."

"It was the best Christmas I've had in a long time."

"You know what Christmas tradition I think we forgot?"

"What?"

Instead of saying anything, Steve points up. A small branch is hanging from the ceiling and glistens in the flickering multicolored lights of the tree. The two berries glare down at her as if accusing her of forgetting about them.

"Oh," Natasha's face flushes with color.

"Yeah, oh," Steve responds as he leans in.

"…"

"…"

"Hi…" he whispers as he pulls away, watching with a satisfactory smile as a blush creeps up her cheeks.

"Hi back…" is all she says before she reaches for him again.

"…"

---

They fall asleep on the floor with the heater clanking in the distance. At around two in the morning she wakes up to find him shivering and whimpering beside her. His words are inaudible as he mumbles something and rolls over so that he can pull her to him. She reaches up to wipe the hair off of his forehead and finds it drenched in sweat. He cries out in his sleep and it sounds like a fearful cry so she shoots up and shakes his shoulder.

"Wake up, Steve," she wills him to wake up as she shakes him harder, almost rocking him from side to side in her effort. "Wake up!" Her shout makes him shoot up and he seems to tremble as he strikes out at an enemy only he can see. "Stop it!" Tears are threatening to spill from her eyes as she watches him, her gaze filled with fear and concern for this beautifully broken man. She pins his arms down and gets right next to his ear before she takes a deep breath and with all her power she screams for him to wake up again.

His eyes shoot open and he latches onto her. She can feel his body trembling as he starts to calm down. Natasha places a hand over his heart and he covers it with his own as his eyes meet hers. "Thank you," he whispers before he shuts his eyes again and rests his head in the crook of her neck. Steve's breath is like dragon's fire against her skin, but she tries not to move as he settles down again. He might not want to talk about it now, but she'll make him spill all in the morning.

"I love you, Nat," he whispers, using the nickname he'd coined for her. She shudders as the words run through her and she presses her lips to his forehead.

"I love you too, warrior boy," she whispers back before she falls asleep.

---

Steve can feel the cold wind on his face before his eyes flutter open. He rubs his head as a little boy with his group of friends comes over from the softball field and kneels above him. Something rough is against his back and his eyes blink rapidly, heavy with sleep.

"Sorry about that, Mr.," the boy apologizes with a gap toothed smile. "Say," he watches as the boy examines him with narrowed eyes, "aren't you that comic book guy?"

Not knowing what to say, Steve just flounders. The kids laugh at him before running away. Something crunches in his hands as he clenches his fists.

He looks down and finds himself holding the love of his life in his hands as she smiles up at him from the glossy front page of his comic book.

Notes