Natasha entered Bruce's lab and walked silently to an empty lab table. She set down bags of Thai take-out, then sat down in a nearby chair. Noting the tight line of Bruce's mouth and the tense set of his shoulders, Natasha remained quiet, holding off on greeting the working scientist. Her patience was rewarded soon enough. Bruce looked up at her and smiled, his tension easing as he pushed his glasses up his nose.
"I missed dinner?" he guessed.
"By a few hours," Natasha agreed, her lips curving in a soft smile.
Gliding over to him, Natasha brushed a stray curl from his forehead. Bruce gave her a self-deprecating smile.
"Thank you," he told her, gesturing to the take out bags.
"Come eat and tell me what you're up to. What is all that?" she asked, gesturing to the machinery and electrical components littering Bruce's work space. The largest item was almost a squared off tube, open at both ends, with panels of buttons on both sides.
"That is the remains of one of the devices we took off Doom last week," Bruce answered, following her over to the table. He helped her take the food out of their sacks, their fingers brushing.
"Nice!" she approved. "Are you making presents for me and Clint?"
"Maybe. It depends on what this thing does. Not everything Doom had in that warehouse was a weapon. I'm not sure what he intended this device for. All I've been able to figure out so far is that it manipulates tachyons and free radicals."
"Not bad for a week," Natasha defended him. "Do you think it's a time travel device?"
"That's one possibility," Bruce told her, shrugging.
"But, only one," Natasha continued.
"Only one," Bruce said, agreeably, taking a bite of his chicken and sukiyaki noodles.
Natasha leaned forward and kissed a smear of sauce from the corner of Bruce's mouth. He returned the kiss softly, but she noted with amusement the slight widening of his eyes. Nine months into their relationship, Bruce still seemed surprised by her desire for him. She leaned forward to kiss him more aggressively.
"Um. I'm sorry to interrupt," Steve said from the doorway. "Tony asked me to give this to you."
Bruce looked up, startled, and grinned ruefully. Steve held a large piece of machinery, a square set with buttons on one side and various wires, tubes, and circuitry on the other sides.
"Thanks," Bruce said, dryly. "Here let me move stuff and you can set it on the work bench."
Bruce hurried to move his research, clearing a space. Steve stepped forward, but tripped on a pencil that had rolled off of the desk. He managed to set the machine hard on the bench, but jarred the table hard, sending the tube device rolling onto one side. Bruce watched, horrified, as buttons compressed and a bright, orange light poured from the machine, engulfing not only Steve, but Natasha as well.
Natasha gasped, half out of her seat, when the light reached her. She felt a warm glow suffuse hger, tingling along her skin. Rather than pain, a euphoric sense of well-being rose inside her, filling her with energy. She looked towards Bruce, smiling reassuringly, then collapsed, unconscious.
Bruce knelt down by Steve, taking his pulse, which fortunately remained strong. Checking, Bruce found that both of his teammates were breathing normally, their pulses strong and steady. Their unconscious state seemed, upon cursory examination, to be easing into normal sleep.
"JARVIS, alert the others. I want all of them here, asap."
"Shall I place a call to Director Fury, Dr. Banner?"
"No. We'll deal with that later, when we have more answers."
"As you wish, sir. The others are on their way."
"Thank you, JARVIS," Bruce answered, tenderly brushing a stray lock of hair from Natasha's forehead.
A startled grunt from the doorway drew Bruce's attention up. Thor stood there, flanked by Tony and Clint. Bruce nodded grimly at them.
"Is that Steve and Natasha?" Tony asked, incredulously, staring hard at the young teens laid out on the floor.
"I'm afraid so. The machine I was working on got triggered. This is the result. Their breathing and heart rates are regular. I think now they're just sleeping."
"Is this permanent?" Clint demanded.
Bruce sighed, shrugging.
"I don't know. I need Thor to help me move them to medical. I'll have to do some tests...I don't know, Clint," Bruce apologized, lost.
Thor stepped forward. Smiling gently, he gave Bruce's shoulder a brief, affectionate squeeze.
"I know you and Tony will find the answers we need," Thor said, reassuringly, lifting Steve into his arms.
Bruce smiled wryly, picking Natasha up cautiously. She stretched briefly, her head ending up on Bruce's shoulder. The others smiled knowingly, but Bruce felt a frisson of unease. He wasn't sure who he was holding in his arms. Was this person, wearing the body of a girl just entering adulthood, still his Natasha? There were no guarantees. The form in his arms was effectively extinguishing his libido, but his heart still swelled with bitter tenderness at the soft face resting so close to his heart. He carried her to the medical bay, then tucked her as comfortably into bed as he could.
He came out into the hallway, finding Thor and the others waiting for him.
"I placed Steve in the next room," Thor told him, shrugging. "What happens now, Bruce?"
Bruce swallowed, shrugging.
"I think, for now, we should let them sleep and see if they wake up on their own. I'll start tests in the morning, whether they wake or not. I'm telling you now, though. I won't do much beyond take a few blood and tissue samples, not without their permission. Their well-being is more important than us getting adult versions back."
The others nodded, not really inclined to argue with the decision and knowing Bruce well enough to know he wouldn't budge on the issue. As a group, they walked to the common area. Tony handed out drinks and the men settled into chairs and the sofa, brooding. It would be a long and mostly sleepless night for the Avengers.
Her name was Natasha. She knew that much. Everything else was fuzzy, at best. Sitting up, she looked around, searching for...what? The room, a medical ward of some sort, was empty. Natasha did a brief self-examination and concluded she was uninjured. She wasn't sure who or what she was expecting or why she was here.
Natasha stood and examined her clothes. She was wearing a loose pair of blue jeans and a baggy, button-up blouse. She frowned. The clothes would have been pretty, if they fit properly. It wasn't an outfit the Red Room would approve of. But, this was not a Red Room facility. She was certain. The room was too clean, too comfortable, and the equipment too rich and new. This place was so opulent that it almost had to be American! How had the Americans caught her? She was too young for missions. Her first would not take place for a year or two. She still had much training to do, much to learn.
Her musings were cut off, when the door opened and a man came inside. Natasha pulled back, gazing at him warily, but without fear. Even with her training incomplete, she thought he was no match for her. The man was middle aged, with gray- streaked, curly hair that needed trimming. A pair of glasses were perched on his nose. He looked healthy, but not especially muscular...he had the body of someone who exercised for health, not to be ready to fight. He smiled and the expression was soft.
"Good morning, Natasha," he told her, then paused, his expression grave. "Do you remember me?"
Natasha didn't answer, gazing at him, her expression and stance giving away nothing. The man smiled in response, his expression becoming somewhat sad, though his smile grew wider. He shrugged, showing empty hands.
"It's all right. I thought you might not. My name is Dr. Bruce Banner."
"You are American."
"Yes, I am. In fact, you are, too."
"I am not!" Natasha contradicted. "I'm from the Soviet Union."
Dr. Banner sighed, shaking his head.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have...I'm being clumsy and I apologize. Natasha. How old are you?"
"I'm fifteen," Natasha answered, deciding there was no harm in the question.
The doctor actually winced a bit, his smile tightening.
"This is going to be hard to explain. Natasha, things are a lot different than you remember. You...the year is 2013. You've been in an accident."
Natasha laughed at him, deciding the doctor was either extremely clever in whatever game he was playing or completely crazy.
"An accident, Doctor? One that brought me fifteen years into the future? Nyet. You are lying."
The man gave a soft laugh, shrugging helplessly.
"I'm not, though I guess I can't blame you for thinking so. Look, I'll tell you the truth, then I'll go about trying to prove to you that I'm not crazy, okay?"
Natasha took a small step forward, intrigued, despite herself. She nodded, warily, wondering what the doctor was going to tell her.
"The year really is 2013. You defected from the Soviet Union about five years ago and joined a group called SHIELD. That stands for Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. You're also part of a team known as the Avengers. We, uh, we're a group that fights things most organizations aren't equipped to deal with. You had an accident in a lab and were...de-aged somehow. You're thirty, not fifteen. Unfortunately, the process seems to have affected your memories, as well."
She shook her head, scornfully, not believing a word of it.
"Was I in an 'accident,' or did things not go the way you wanted?"
Bruce blinked, his eyes widening as he realized what she was suggesting.
"Good god, no. Natasha...you weren't experimented on! I was studying a device we confiscated from one of our enemies and it was accidentally triggered. You and Steve..."
"Steve?" Natasha interrupted, confused.
"Steve Rogers, another of our team mates, was also affected," Bruce told her.
Natasha, for a brief, horrible moment, believed Dr. Banner, but then reason reasserted itself. She trembled and sat on the edge of the bed. Either this was a strange training exercise (and had she failed, by revealing her age?) or she had been captured and the Americans were playing games with her. She decided the doctor must be a very good actor.
"I don't believe you and I don't want to talk any more," she declared, turning away from him.
"All right," he agreed, to her surprise. "I'll bring you some breakfast, later."
Natasha didn't answer, simply waited for the sound of the door closing behind her. When the doctor was gone, Natasha got up and began hunting through the room. Sadly, there were no scalpels or syringes conveniently at hand. It seemed she would have to wait and take a weapon off of anyone who tried to stop her. Natasha approached the door carefully, listening at the crack to the outside. She couldn't hear anything, breathing or shifting that would announce a guard. If anyone was there, they were well-trained and disciplined. Natasha grabbed the handle and twisted slowly.
To her surprise, the door opened smoothly. Even more astonishing, no one stood outside! She blinked, feeling the first wave of fear. Nothing was making sense. Well. Getting out was the only real option. She would have to find a way to contact her superiors. She began making her way swiftly down the hallway, watching sharply for guards or other personnel. she found no one. In fact, after making several turns and going down a flight of stairs, the place looked less and less like a hospital or prison. It began to look like an apartment building, though one with communal areas.
Natasha made her way to a large, common room and found a boy her own age, standing in the middle, next to a large, impossibly flat television. He was staring around in stricken wonder. The boy was tall and handsome, with short, blonde hair and the type of build that came only from dedicated training. She wondered if he was one of theirs. He looked up as she came in and smiled shyly, the expression a bit helpless.
"Hello," he greeted and Natasha was disappointed to hear his American accent. So, theirs, then.
"Hello," she returned, preparing mentally to fight.
"Are you Natasha? He, uh, told me there was someone..." the boy trailed off, then seemed to shake himself mentally. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude. My name is Steve Rogers."
"Who mentioned me?" Natasha asked, her tone cool, but not rude.
"He said his name was Dr. Bruce Banner, but I don't trust him!" Steve declared, frowning. "He tried to tell me the year is 2013! That's just ridiculous. I'll be ninety-three years old, by that time. I think he might be a spy."
"You were born in 1920?" Natasha asked, skeptically. "You look like you work out, but the year is 1998, not 1935."
"Or 2013?" Steve asked, ironically. and Natasha gave a brief nod, acknowledging his point.
"Actually, it is 2013, though I'm not sure Bruce should have told you so much, right away," a new voice declared.
The teenagers turned and Natasha immediately became more alert, prepared to fight. The man in front of her had a military carriage and his eyes were sharp and focused. He wore a uniform of some sort, though without sleeves. Strangely, he had a quiver of arrows strapped to his back. Steve frowned at him.
"I'm sorry, sir, but who are you?"
The man grinned at the boy, amused.
"My name is Clint Barton, also known as Hawkeye. I'm a SHIELD agent and a member of the Avengers."
"The Avengers, again," Natasha murmured.
"That's right. I'm sorry you two have lost your memories," Barton told them. "Still, I'm sure the doc and Stark will get things straightened out."
"How many of these Avengers are there?" Steve asked.
"Six. There's you two, me, the doctor, Stark, and Thor. You'll meet Stark and Thor soon."
"What do you want with us?" Natasha demanded, sharply, making the man grin.
"I was sent to bring you to breakfast, actually. Bruce said neither of you have eaten yet. Come on. You can meet the rest of the team."
Steve sighed, his mouth firming with determination, and he nodded. Natasha shrugged, pretending indifference. If she could get to a kitchen, she might find a knife she could use. Barton gestured with his head and they followed him across the room. He led them only a short distance, into a dining room, set just off of an open kitchen, which was separated from the dining room, by an open counter, with chairs like bar stools set at it. Dr. Banner was sitting at the counter, sipping a hot drink and reading a newspaper. He looked up and smiled, when he saw Steve and Natasha. Neither smiled back.
"Hey, look who decided to join us," a man with a goatee announced. "Rip Van Winkle and Baby Yaga."
"Tony," Bruce reproached, though he looked more amused than upset.
"It is good to see you both standing and well," a tall man with long, blond hair and a beard pronounced.
"The guy with the bad sense of humor is Tony Stark. He's an engineer and a pain in the ass, but still one of the good guys. He's richer than Midas, so he doesn't know much about boundaries. The tall, blond guy is Thor. He's an alien from a world called Asgard."
"Like the Nordic myths?" Natasha asked, skeptically.
"Yep," Clint answered shortly, as Thor gave her a brief bow.
"Have a seat and we'll get you some plates," Tony told them.
Steve obeyed, followed reluctantly by Natasha. She studied the small group of men. She was well trained, but she doubted she could take them all, at once. Thor and Clint especially looked difficult. Steve shifted uneasily beside her. She gave him a small smile. The boy might be physically fit, but there was something gentle about him. He didn't seem to be trained. He was far too expressive of his emotions. Steve did seem brave, however. Even as food was placed in front of him, he glared at Banner, his chin tilted in defiance.
"I think you should tell us the truth. I know you've been experimenting on us, Dr. Banner."
Tony choked on his coffee, looking up in shock, but Dr. Banner just looked resigned, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Thor frowned at them, coming to stand near the table. Steve looked up, not intimidated.
"That is a terrible thing for you to say. Why would you accuse him of such?" Thor demanded, angrily.
"Why wouldn't he? Think about it, Thor. His last memories are probably of being a fifteen year old in Brooklyn, in what? 1934? At that time, Steve Rogers was an asthmatic, with numerous health issues, including being small and under-weight," Banner reminded them.
"If that's your way of saying you've done me a favor, Doctor..." Steve began, his voice trembling with indignation.
"It's not," Bruce interrupted, though his voice was gentle, even apologetic. "Steve. I'm not responsible for the change in your condition. That happened later in your life, in your early twenties and it was voluntary. I promise you. No one in this room would experiment on you, or let anyone else do so, without your consent."
"And, of course, you're going to ask for consent," Natasha speculated. "Because, if you're telling the truth, you have an 'accident' to fix."
Bruce shifted uncomfortably, but nodded, shrugging.
"I do need to take blood and tissue samples, yes."
"No. I do inot/i give my permission," Natasha told him, firmly.
Bruce looked at Steve, who nodded, agreeing with Natasha.
"Unless you can prove what you're saying, we have no reason to trust you."
Bruce nodded, not looking surprised.
"Without those tests, he can't help you," Clint argued.
"That may be, sir, but he said it was our choice," Steve reminded him, primly.
"Obviously, the first thing we need to do is prove to them that we aren't lying," Bruce scolded the archer, who sighed, hands going up in a gesture of surrender that did not look natural to him.
"Well, good luck with that," Tony announced. "I'll be in my workshop. Good luck, kiddos."
Bruce and Thor both rolled their eyes. Thor folded his arms across his chest and studied his young team mates, frowning thoughtfully. He sat down next to Steve, his expression earnest.
"You can trust us, Steve Rogers. What sort of proof can we offer you, that our words are true?"
Steve started to speak, then faltered, looking down at his hands and arms. He looked up and shook his head, incredulously.
"I'm sorry, sir, but I really don't know. We're being asked to believe something completely incredible. We're supposed to be adults, part of some team, working for a group called SHIELD? It's a bit much."
"Look around, kid. Does anything here look like something from the thirties? Look at the tech in this place. Ever seen anything like it before?" Clint demanded.
"We aren't denying you're with a government agency and are developing top secret stuff for them," Steve persisted.
"It is a bit much," Bruce agreed, interrupting. "Why don't we leave them be, for a while, and let them eat in peace. They can explore the place and get used to their surroundings. We'll be in either the labs or the training areas. If you want to find us, just ask JARVIS."
"Jarvis?" Natasha asked.
"Yes, Miss Romanova. I am JARVIS. I am an artificial intelligence that runs the house for Mr. Stark."
Natasha stiffened, her eyes wide. She forced herself to relax and noted that Steve had grown a bit paler. Good. Her reaction, at least, was the tamer one.
"Thank you. We'll remember," Steve promised grimly.
Bruce smiled wryly, suspecting they would not be hearing from the teenagers any time soon. Natasha watched him and the other men leave, then turned and began eating. Steve watched her, incredulously.
"You're trusting the food?" he asked, receiving a shrug in reply.
"If they wanted to poison or drug us, they could have, when we were sleeping. We have to stay strong, if we're to find out what's going on and get out of here."
Steve nodded, beginning to eat his own food, surprised by his appetite. He'd never had a very strong appetite, which was good, since they'd rarely had enough food to satisfy him, as things were. Steve ate appreciatively. The pancakes were good and the sausage plentiful and not too fatty. Very soon, he was done, the entire plate scraped clean. Natasha looked at the results in amusement.
"You have a hearty appetite," she commented, laughing slightly.
"He was telling the truth, you know," Steve told her. "What Dr. Banner said about me being small and unhealthy. I went to sleep weighing about one hundred and ten pounds, with my ribs showing through. Normally, I wouldn't have been able to eat half that much."
"Something was done to you," Natasha agreed. "If something was done to me, I don't know what is was. I feel like myself."
"That's good. Maybe he hadn't got to yet. He's trying awfully hard to seem like a good guy."
"Banner wants our trust and I for one don't intend to give it to him," Natasha swore.
Steve nodded in agreement.
"Yeah. He says he only wants blood and tissue, but we don't know that or what he would do with the samples, if we gave them."
Natasha set down her knife and fork, raising an eyebrow.
"I do think we should take one bit of his advice. We need to explore this place and find out where we're allowed to go. We might discover things they don't intend."
"What about JARVIS?"
Natasha hesitated, looking around in worry.
"That's a problem, yes, but we can deal with it later. Let's go back to the common room. I want to see what's on the television."
Steve agreed and they returned to the sitting room, sitting together on the couch. JARVIS explained how to work the remote control, vainly trying to assure the young people that they were watching the same television as everyone else in the city. Steve watched in amazement. He'd been to the movies, but this was far beyond anything he had seen. Natasha seemed to take it all in stride, though. Steve remembered her claiming the year was 1998.
"Could they have brain-washed one of us? I mean, I think it's 1935 and you think it's 1998."
"Yes, it's possible. Perhaps your memories of being weak and asthmatic are implanted."
Steve shivered, but nodded, his mouth tightening at the thought of people who would do such a thing, people like this Dr. Banner. What made it worse, in Steve's opinion, was the warmth and fake kindness of the man's demeanor. Steve felt that evil should wear itself on it's sleeve, openly, so decent people could reject and destroy it. Dr. Banner and his friends were far too clever for Steve's liking. The footage, television programs, and news stories, everything they tried to watch, seemed to confirm their lies. There were no glitches, no contradictions, no flaws Steve could point to and say "Here! This doesn't match!"
Their television viewing was interrupted, when Stark reappeared, grinning. He was wearing different clothes than he had worn at breakfast. He was dressed in black trousers and a dress shirt, with a speckled tie and leather jacket. Steve frowned at him, wondering what was going to happen now.
"Look at you two...typical teenagers," Stark scolded, though his voice was laced with enough humor to make the words irritating, rather than intimidating. "You have a veritable Wonderland, from your point of view, to explore and what do you do? You vegetate in front of the television."
"We were curious about what you had made up to convince us of your stories," Natasha told him bluntly.
"Oh, right! We're holding you in some sort of conspiracy," Stark scoffed, shaking his head, still grinning. "Whatever. Come on. Conspiracy or not, you two need some new clothes. I figure getting out and about will do more to convince you than anything in this tower."
"You're...taking us shopping?" Steve asked, not quite able to believe that. "I-I don't have any money."
Stark just shook his head, shrugging carelessly.
"Money is just not an issue, Stevie. Clint wasn't really exaggerating, when he said I'm richer than Midas I got this."
"But, if Dr. Banner is telling the truth, we won't be teenagers soon, will we?" Natasha challenged, smiling softly. "What will you do with the clothes, then?"
Tony stared hard at her, his smile disappearing.
"Romanov, you got zapped by a device we took off of Victor von iDoom/i. Yeah, we're hoping to get you back to normal, but success isn't guaranteed, much less isoon/i. Horrible as the thought may be, you might find yourselves stuck going through puberty and high school again."
Natasha and Steve exchanged grim glances. Stark seemed to be as good at sincerity, as Banner. Not knowing what else to do, the teenagers stood. Natasha hoped the trip would provide opportunities, if not for escape, then for gathering information on her own, instead of what was being fed to her. Stark smiled again, the grim mood passing quickly, as he led them to a garage.
Steve looked at the cars in shock. Stark was evidently being honest about his wealth, at least. As new as vehicles still were, Steve recognized some of the brands and none of the cars looked worn. They each sparkled and Steve was willing to bet the interiors were leather. He frowned. This sort of opulence struck him as immoral, when he considered all the hungry people he knew of. Stark opened the doors of a BMW and Steve slid into the front seat. It felt as luxurious as it looked.
Stark peeled away in the BMW, not taking any more care of the vehicle than most people would with their cars. Steve shifted, trying not to judge the man based on his idriving/i, for heaven's sake. Steve sat in the car, watching the city and growing more and more uneasy. There were some things that looked familiar, but this was not the New York City that he knew. Everything was brighter, louder, and more crowded. The streets were full of cars, none of which looked familiar to Steve. They were smaller and brighter than anything he knew of. Bright, lighted signs adorned many, most even, of the buildings, advertising products and brands that Steve had never heard of, expect Coca-Cola. He gave the Coca-Cola signs a smile of rueful affection. Not everything changed, it seemed.
Looking at Natasha, Steve noticed that she seemed less impressed, than he felt. If she was telling the truth and was from 1998, then the world of 2013 would be far less different for her. Steve couldn't imagine how two teenagers could have been brought forward in time or why. Dr. Banner's story was beginning to look plausible, if only in comparison to the alternatives. It just didn't make sense for this to be such an elaborate hoax. Why dress up an entire city with no doubt classified technology to impress two teenagers? Steve shook his head. He hadn't seen the entire city, only a few blocks of it. That much could be controlled, if necessary. He just couldn't imagine iwhy/i.
Stark certainly seemed to feel in control. He drove with careless ease, pulling into a parking garage, attached to a large shopping center. He parked in an upper level, then got out and waited for the kids to follow. Steve got out, shifting uncomfortably. He still wasn't comfortable with taking Stark's money. He suspected the price would ultimately be too high. Looking at Natasha, he noticed that she just looked bored. Steve wondered, if that was a front. She had to be scared and worried, too, didn't she? He moved closer to her, giving her a small, conciliatory smile. She smiled back, shrugging slightly.
Stark led them into a Macy's, steering to the clothing departments. He walked just inside, then stopped, shrugging.
"Here you are. Go wild!" he instructed, gesturing them ahead.
Steve stood, a bit frozen.
"W-what kind of clothes do you want us to buy?" he asked.
"Whatever. I don't care," Stark told him. "Just keep in mind that the more clothes you buy, the less often you have to do laundry."
Steve looked at him in disbelief, but Stark just shrugged, unmoved. Natasha sighed and headed to the women's section, beginning to search through the clothes for items she thought suitable. Steve walked over to her, lowering his head to talk privately.
"What are you going to get? I have no ideas."
"Get comfortable clothes that you can move freely in, but will stand up to travel, if we have to flee," Natasha advised. "Look at the other boys and get things similar to them. We don't want to look like we're preparing to escape."
Steve's mouth firmed and he nodded, going to the men's department. He picked out jeans and shirts. He couldn't help gasping, when he saw the prices, though. Sixty dollars for a pair of trousers! He walked back over to Stark, shaking his head.
"I can't let you do this. Sixty dollars! These trousers cost sixty dollars!" he told him, trying to keep his voice down.
Stark laughed.
"Okay, I forgot about inflation. Look, minimum wage right now is eight and a half dollars. Sixty dollars isn't that much these days. Hell, a loaf of bread is over a dollar. A pound of hamburger is over three dollars. Seriously, Steve, you gotta get used to this stuff. Now, don't forget socks and underwear."
Personally, Tony was looking forward to Steve's reaction to the cost of shoes. Once Natasha and Steve had enough clothing to satisfy him, he drove them a few more blocks to a shoe boutique, parking just outside. Natasha stopped in the entrance.
"I'll be back. I need to use the restroom."
"Sure, whatever," Tony answered, going over the men's boots.
Natasha waited until he seemed distracted, then walked over to Steve.
"Come on. We only have a few minutes, but this is our chance. Follow me," she instructed.
"Where are we going?" Steve asked, as he followed her.
Natasha remained quiet, until they were outside, then she turned to him, grinning.
"I want to look at parts of this city that Stark doesn't intend for us to see. Come on. We'll just go a few blocks and see what the city looks like there."
"All right," Steve agreed.
Natasha began walking quickly, back-tracking a couple of blocks, then heading to the right for a few more. They found themselves in a smaller shopping area, more suitable for day to day shopping needs. A grocery store, a gas station, and a deli lined one side of the street, while a bookstore, liquor store, and a laundromat sat on the other side. Natasha smiled in satisfaction and headed for the bookstore, which had a news stand in front of it. Natasha looked at the front pages of the newspapers and magazines and frowned, worried. All of them said June, 2013.
"That can't be right. This doesn't make sense!" Steve protested.
"Shh," Natasha urged. "Let's go into the bookstore."
He followed her in and watched as she flipped through a wide variety of books, checking copyright dates. All of the new releases said 2013. Steve shivered. Books were even harder to produce than newspapers. It would take a lot of money and effort, colossal bribes, to affect this many people.
"It really is 2013," Steve whispered. "No one would spend this much money and effort on just us. Stark couldn't know we'd end up in this book store or anywhere near here. Even if he seeded the entire area, just in case..."
"No," Natasha agreed. "There are too many people involved, too many loose ends. But, if this is 2013, how did we get here and why?"
"Do you think Dr. Banner was telling the truth?"
"I don't know, but we should get back. We have no where else to go, for now."
Steve nodded, his expression shocked and hurt. He thought of Bucky and his mom, his teachers. If Banner and Stark were telling the truth, then everyone Steve had ever known was probably dead or dying. He was utterly alone. He followed Natasha numbly back to the shoe store. Stark just gave them a knowing smile, when they walked in the door. Steve ignored him, going and picking out a pair of sturdy, walking shoes. He tried them on, making sure they fit properly, then handed them to Stark.
"Okay, good," Stark praised, smiling. "We'll finish up here and..."
"I want to go back to the tower. I don't need anything else and I've seen enough. You've made your point, sir," Steve told Stark flatly.
Stark studied Steve a moment and, to the teenagers' amazement, his expression softened. Stark nodded.
"All right. Go get in the car and I'll be there in a minute."
Steve obeyed, going back to the car and sitting in back. To his surprise, Natasha climbed in with him. She didn't say anything, just gave him a steady, supportive stare. Steve looked back, trying to smile, but the expression was weak and trembling. He only held it a few seconds, before staring down at his feet. Natasha nodded and faced the front, watching as Stark came out of the store with their purchases. She expected him to either drive silently back or to be cheerful and irritating. Instead, he turned around, his expression sympathetic.
"I know this hard for you and a shock. It'll get easier, though, once you get your memories back."
"Somehow, sir, I doubt having everyone I knew and loved dead will ever get easier," Steve said bluntly.
"You'll grieve and heal. Then, you'll find new people to care about," Tony assured him, wincing a bit at sounding like a Hallmark card. "Yeah, sorry, I wouldn't believe that either, if I were you."
Natasha considered his words, thinking of their situation. In a way, she had to agree with Stark. As much as Steve might miss his friends and family, this was a new chance. They were both being given a new start. It would be hard, but it would be foolish to not take advantage of the opportunity. She might discover that western decadence suited her.
The ride back was silent, though Natasha occasionally glanced over at Steve. His expression was set and grim. He gazed consistently out the window, never turning his head. Nothing much that Steve saw seemed to please him, though occasionally an intense grief or flare of recognition would pass over him. Natasha averted her eyes at those moments, giving him privacy. Stark remained silent the entire time, even turning off the radio.
When they arrived back at the tower, Stark led them to a floor just above the one Natasha and Steve had woken up on. He gave Steven a small, helpless shrug.
"Floor below is mostly common areas. This floor is yours. It's where you live and sleep, when you're off on your own. Feel free to explore and do what you like. Everything on this floor belongs to you. Tell JARVIS and he'll either let people come up or keep them away. Your choice, Van Winkle," Stark told him, the nickname sounding almost affectionate.
"We have our own floors?" Natasha asked, more than a little surprised, as they got back into the elevator.
"Yeah, of course," Stark replied, shrugging. "There's no point in cramming everyone together, especially when everyone needs such different areas to be comfortable. I mean, yeah, you might have some skill, but you don't really need an archery range. Clint, though, he needs to be able to practice and keep himself sharp. Bruce and I need labs, more than we do work out space. You get the idea."
"Yes, I see. And, you pay for all of this?" she asked, puzzled.
"Sure. Why not? You guys are my team and I can more than afford it. Besides, being in one spot lets us protect each other," Stark told her. He stopped and turned to her, his expression serious. "We're your friends, Natasha."
Natasha nodded, beginning to believe him. She studied her rooms with interest, leaving her new clothes strewn across her bed. Looking out the window, she remembered the look on Steve's face in the car on the ride back. Natasha went back to the elevator, pressing the number for Steve's floor.
"Mr. Rogers does not wish to be disturbed," JARVIS informed her, the elevator remaining still.
"Will you ask him, if I can go up and see him?" Natasha asked, quietly.
A moment of silence followed, then the elevator began to move. Natasha smiled, a bit relieved. She and Steve were not entirely alone. They each had one other person sharing their burden. She got off and found Steve once again staring out a window, his back tense. Natasha came and stood beside him, just within arms reach. She listened to Steve's breathing, noting the uneven quality.
"Steve," she began, but the boy cut her off.
"I believe you, about being from 1998. I can't...can't disbelieve everyone and everything. You and I are in this together!" he pleaded, though keeping his gaze on the window or things just outside it. "Do you believe me?"
Natasha looked at him, noticing the tears streaking his cheeks. She sighed softly.
"I believe you," she assured him, taking his hand. "I'm sorry for what you've lost."
"I didn't really lose much," Steve told her, laughing a bit. "Bucky and Mom were all I had. Yeah, my teachers are gone, but I wasn't close to any of them. The world is just so different. I'm so different. I'm sorry, too. This isn't much easier on you, even if the time lost is shorter."
Natasha considered her response and a wave of elation filled her. She could choose. She could reveal what she wanted and no one would care or question her, it seemed. She smiled at him.
"I lost even less than you did. I'm an orphan. I was being trained to be a spy, by the government. It was a cold life, with no friends or family permitted. I think this is a great opportunity for me."
Steve looked a bit hurt, but then nodded, smiling at her.
"I'm glad for you."
"Steve, I know you miss your Mother and friend, but this is an opportunity for both of us. Stark seems determined to take care of us, whether they can change us back or not. Think about it. Whatever our lives were before, we can make new ones. Personally, I'd like to have a little fun on Stark's dime and just be an ordinary teenager, for as long as I can."
Steve wiped his eyes across his sleeve, nodding.
"It is nice, being able to breathe easily and not getting so tired all of the time."
Natasha smiled, nodding.
"Okay, so what do ordinary teenagers do in 2013?" Steve asked.
"I don't know," Natasha admitted, smiling carelessly.
"If I may, my records show that modern teenagers enjoy video games, being on the computer on sites such as Facebook and Twitter, watching movies, and skate-boarding. Sir doesn't have a facility for skateboarding, but I'm sure he'd create one, if you asked. He does, however, have a swimming pool you may use."
"Thank you," Steve told JARVIS, looking a bit lost. He turned to Natasha. "What is computer and video?"
"I'll show you later," Natasha promised, though she knew things had probably changed considerably.
Steve nodded, shrugging.
"Um. Maybe see a movie?" Steve asked. "You think they'll let us go?"
"All right," Natasha agreed. "We can save the theater for later. Most of the time, people watch movies at home, these days."
"Sir has a theater set up on the twenty-third floor. I can provide you a list of the latest new releases."
"Of course, he does," Natasha said, calmly, smirking. Steve laughed.
Natasha was a bit surprised at how easily the Avengers tolerated her and Steve's exploration of teenage life in the twenty-first century. If anything, Stark encouraged them, taking them to local teen hangouts, giving them the latest gadgets, including mobile phones and tablets, and patiently explaining how things worked. Both teenagers were beginning to relax around the adults, who continued to be attentive, helpful, and non-threatening. Even Banner didn't seem so bad anymore, though something about him made Natasha uneasy. He seemed an odd choice, for a member on a superhero team.
"What do you think Banner does?" she asked Steve, while they lounged on one of the balconies.
"Science," Steve answered, shrugging.
"I mean during battles. What kind of fighting do you think he does?"
"Um. I don't know. I'm sure he's able to do something," Steve defended.
"Maybe. He looks like he'd get his ass handed to him," Natasha admitted.
"That's not fair," Steve scolded. "A guy doesn't have to be a mountain to make a difference."
"No, I know," Natasha soothed, resting her hand on Steve's.
Steve blushed slightly, but smiled. The two had grown closer, over the past weeks, and small, familiar touches were becoming normal. Steve was beginning to wonder if enough time had passed that he could kiss her, without seeming too forward. He smiled over at her, pleased when she smiled back, leaning in a bit. A shadow fell across them.
"Natasha Romanov and Steve Rogers," a deep voice intoned. "You will come with Doom now."
Steve and Natasha gaped up at the weird man hovering in mid-air, wearing a metal mask over his entire face. He was surrounded by robots, about half his own height, constructed of gleaming gray metal. Steve stood, frowning.
"I'm sorry, sir, but we don't know you," Steve told him, firmly and politely.
"I am Victor Von Doom of Latveria. You were once my enemies, but a device of mine has renewed you. Now, I will have you in my service."
"We're not going anywhere with you," Natasha told him, frowning.
"It was not a request," Doom told them, as his robots surged forward.
Steve moved swiftly, grabbing one of the robots and throwing it in a spin, sending it crashing into the balcony doors. An alarm immediately sounded and Steve could hear JARVIS, repeating the word "assemble," over and over. He was quickly distracted by more of the robots, dodging round them. Steve tried to keep himself between the robots and Natasha, at first, but she fought bravely, ducking and kicking.
Doom watched Steve and Natasha, displeased. He had thought the robots would be sufficient to deal with the weakened Avengers, grabbing them before help could appear. A slight distraction was currently occupying the other Avengers, but time was a factor. Doom raised his hands to interfere more directly. A soft voice clearing brought the fight to a stop.
The robots went back to Doom, as Bruce Banner stepped forward, his expression challenging.
"Dr. Doom, this is an unpleasant surprise."
"Dr. Banner. You have not yet released your creature?"
"I was hoping you wouldn't make that necessary," Bruce admitted, shrugging.
"The children were, in a way, created by my device. I claim them, as recompense for what you stole from me."
"Stole? I prefer confiscated."
"Words do not matter. I demand the children come with me."
"No!" Steve snapped.
Banner sighed, placing his glasses on the table. He stepped forward and changed. He grew taller, towering over everyone. Muscles flexed, bursting through and shredding too tight clothing. Natasha watched as Banner's skin darkened, becoming an emerald green. The soft eyes filled with glittering rage. Gasping, Natasha fell back, moving as far away from the monster as she could.
"Dr. Banner?" Steve asked, hesitantly, but Hulk recoiled, snarling slightly at the name.
"Behold the beast inside the man," Doom intoned.
"Metal Face make Hulk mad. Best leave team alone or HULK SMASH!"
The Hulk leaped out the window, reaching out and slapping several of the robots out of the air. Doom sighed, ignoring the gasps from Steve and Natasha and shaking his head. Foolish creature. He could smash Doom's robots, yes, but he alone was not a match for Doom. The green behemoth came surging back up, landing on the balcony with a tremendous thud. Natasha grasped the rail and stared hard at Hulk, instinct making her recoil.
"Give up, beast! Your friends have not come and even you, alone, are no match for the might of Doom!"
"Hulk not alone," Hulk snarled. "Smash stupid Metal Face!"
"Good idea, Green Machine," Tony agreed, appearing behind Doom with War Machine. "You're surrounded Doom. Time for you to stand down."
"Doom does not surrender to the likes of you, Anthony Stark!" Doom scorned.
"No? Will I do?" Thor asked, landing on the balcony beside the Hulk.
Whirling Mjolrnir, he sent a flash of lightning directly at Doom, who shouted and moved rapidly away. Hulk glared down at Thor, huffing.
"Team late."
"I'm sorry, my friend, but we were distracted by a vast number of these robots," Thor admitted.
Hulk grunted, then laughed as an arrow shot by, exploding directly in Doom's eyes. War Machine took advantage of Doom's distraction to fly directly into Doom in a sweeping tackle, leaving Tony to destroy the remaining robots. Snarling, Doom twisted free, righting himself. He frowned. Sadly, Doom had lost the element of surprise, that this mission had relied on.
"Doom has learned much from this encounter," he declared, straightening proudly.
"Yeah? That would be a first," Clint observed, rappelling down onto the balcony.
"Hold your impudent tongue, Archer, and know your temporary victory will make your defeat more bitter."
"Nice seeing you again, too, Dr. Doom," Tony told him, hovering in front of the balcony.
Doom flew away wordlessly, dismissing the heroes. Hulk watched him leave, then turned to Natasha, whose eyes widened as his shadow fell over her. She stood shakily. Hulk grunted.
"'Tasha not remember?"
"No," she answered, shaking her head.
Hulk nodded, growling softly.
"Tiny team afraid," Hulk said regretfully, sitting down and crossing his arms over his knees.
"Don't worry, Big Green. Bruce and I will get things sorted," Tony promised.
The giant nodded, his eyes drifting shut. Steve watched the Hulk shrink back down to Bruce Banner, stepping around him to Natasha. He wondered what the man was, if he was a mutant or an alien.
"All right, you two, inside," Stark instructed.
"Is he going to be all right?" Steve wondered, noting how exhausted and drawn the doctor looked.
"Certainly. Clint will take care of him. He just needs a few minutes and some new clothes," Thor assured them, kindly.
Natasha waited for Steve, just inside the sliding doors. She smiled wanly up at him.
"Well, I guess we know how Banner fights now," Steve said, smiling back.
Natasha gave a small laugh, wrapping an arm around Steve's waist.
"You were pretty good, too. Isn't it Western tradition for the male to be given a kiss, after helping win a battle?" Natasha asked, hoping to move things along. Steve was sweet and she liked that, but he was moving a bit too slowly for her tastes.
Steve blushed, reaching down and brushing his lips over hers. Natasha leaned up into him, but Stark interrupted.
"Okay, yeah, that's enough of that," he said curtly, as Thor nodded in agreement.
"We're old enough to kiss, if we want," Steve protested.
"Yeah, age isn't the issue," Stark told him, frowning. "You go ahead, Van Winkle. We need to have a talk with the lady."
The lady nodded curtly at Steve, her arms crossed defensively over her chest. Steve reluctantly headed to his rooms to change his clothes. He was sure Natasha would tell him everything, later. Natasha watched him leave, openly and deliberately ogling his ass. She followed Stark to the common room, sitting on the couch, with a flounce. Stark sighed.
"Look, I know you feel really adult and old enough to make your own decisions," Stark told her, shaking his head. "The problem is the actual adult you has already made some of those decisions. Romantically speaking you aren't available."
Natasha frowned.
"You mean I was with someone, before the accident," Natasha corrected, shifting uncomfortably. "Who, then?"
"Bruce," Tony told her shortly. "You're with Bruce."
Natasha shook her head. Of course, it would be the doctor, the Avenger she was least comfortable with, who, angered, turned into a nightmare. She tried to imagine being with him, kissing him, and shivered. Even if she trusted him, he was so much older than her! Not that he was bad looking, but Natasha didn't want him.
"Well, I'm not anymore. I like Steve, now."
Thor and Tony both scowled at that.
"I think you owe the good doctor more loyalty than that," Thor told her, severely. "He has been quite worried for you and Steve both, since the accident. He has done nothing to merit being abandoned."
"Shouldn't who I date be my choice?" Natasha asked indignantly.
"Don't you think you should respect the choices of the woman whose life you're itemporarily/i occupying?" Tony retorted.
"You said yourself the change might be permanent."
"Yeah, well, don't bet on it. Steve has given Bruce blood and tissue samples. He volunteered, once he realized we were telling the truth. We're going to get you guys back to normal."
"You're only assuming the adult Natasha won't like my decisions."
"Adult Natasha made a lot of choices, before you ever came along. She chose to defect from the Soviet Union and to join SHIELD. Dating Bruce Banner is part of those choices, part of the life she built for herself," Tony insisted.
Natasha went still, staring at her hands. Finally, she nodded.
"I understand. May I go now?"
"Uh, yeah, sure," Tony told her, a bit surprised at her sudden capitulation.
Natasha went to her rooms and took a shower. She debated how to dress, finally settling on a pair of jeans and a pretty, blue blouse, an outfit somewhat similar to what she had woken up in. Sitting on her older self's couch, Natasha asked JARVIS to let her know, when Bruce Banner left his labs for his rooms. It was a long wait, but Natasha had been trained to be still, for surveillance. She barely noticed the passing time, preoccupied with her thoughts.
"Miss Romanov, Dr. Banner is in his rooms now."
"Thank you," she answered quietly, leaving her rooms for his.
Bruce Banner had just settled down onto his own couch, with a cup of steaming tea and his tablet. He was done with his lab work for the day, but he wanted to do some reading in the latest research magazines. Sipping his tea, he leaned against the cushions, then started slightly, when JARVIS spoke.
"Dr. Banner, Miss Romanov would like permission to come in."
"Oh! Uh, sure, yeah, let her in, please," Bruce stammered, astonished.
So far, the young versions of Natasha and Steve had done a very good job of avoiding him. Natasha still looked wary, as she entered the room. She didn't smile, but came and stood before him, looking almost contrite.
"Um, hi. Would you like to sit down?" Bruce asked, concerned.
Natasha sighed, a bit relieved, sitting down next to him.
"Mr. Stark and Thor spoke with me today. They said you and I...have a relationship. I'm sorry I didn't know..." she began, trailing off when his eyes momentarily turned green.
"What brought this up?" Bruce asked, surprised by and displeased with his friends' interference.
"I was kissing Steve," she admitted, reluctantly, her posture tense and wary.
"Ah, I see," Bruce said, his mouth tight.
"I didn't know," Natasha reminded him, before taking a deep breath and placing her hand on his inner thigh. "I'll make it up to you."
Natasha was stunned, when Banner snatched her hand away, as if she had scalded him. Confused, she studied him. His brown eyes had gone wide and his full mouth was open in a circle, making Banner almost a caricature of shock. He shook his head at her, his mouth trying to form words. It would have been funny, if she hadn't been so afraid, so very aware of what he could turn into. Her hand was still in his, as he stared down at her.
"What the hell did they say to you?" Bruce asked.
"They said...that I chose to defect to America and join SHIELD and that choosing to be your lover was part of that decision, the life I had chosen," Natasha repeated.
Banner gave a harsh chuckle, standing and pacing a bit.
"Of course. And, your most recent memories are of the Red Room and they didn't ithink/i," Bruce concluded, with bitter humor.
Natasha shrank further into the couch.
"I should have known better and remembered my training. Everything comes with a price. Are you going to turn into that...um," she hesitated, not wanting to risk angering him by calling him a monster or creature.
Bruce shook his head, turning away from her to stare out his window, concentrating on making his breaths deep and even. After a moment, he walked back over to the couch and sat down, taking her hand in his again.
"Natasha. Listen to me, okay? Tony and Thor meant well, but they were wrong and implied things they didn't mean to. Our relationship had nothing to do with you joining SHIELD. You'd been with SHIELD for years, before we ever met."
"Then, I'm not expected to share your bed?" Natasha asked, wanting to be clear on the matter. Banner flinched.
"Hell no! Natasha, you're...look. My relationship with you...with your older self is based on mutual respect and a set of memories that you don't share."
"They said I owe you loyalty and that I'm interfering in decisions my older self has made," Natasha explained, feeling more confused. Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose.
"They're wrong. You're not obligated to live that life. You have the right to live as you see fit and don't let anyone tell you differently. We don't even know, if we'll be able to reverse the accident."
"Then, I can be with Steve, if I want? Stark pays for everything and I..."
"You can be with whoever you want or no one at all. Stark does not get a say in the matter. I'll make sure he understands that. He won't do anything. As much as he struts around, Tony does care about people."
"All right," Natasha agreed, feeling the first tremors of relief.
"Go on," Bruce shooed gently. "Go talk to Steve or whatever you need."
Smiling slightly, Natasha obeyed. At the door, she turned back.
"I'll come to the lab tomorrow, so you can get those samples," she promised.
"Thank you," Bruce said, smiling gently.
Natasha nodded, going out the door. Bruce watched her go, then leaned back into the couch, moaning.
"JARVIS. Where is he?"
"Sir is in his lab, Dr. Banner."
"Have Thor join us there."
"Yes, Dr. Banner."
Bruce found Tony and Thor both waiting for him, their expressions blending defiance, guilt, and a bit of confusion.
"Hey. JARVIS told us you want to talk, so talk," Tony invited.
"Tony," Bruce scolded. "Look, I know you two meant well. You went too far, though. You can't imake/i her be with me."
"Hey, all we did was point out that her older self had already made some choices," Tony defended. "Our Natasha might like her life to be intact, once we get her back."
"iIf/i we get her back, our Natasha is more than capable of putting her life in order herself. She wouldn't thank you for what you did today."
"If our actions were unwarranted, I will apologize," Thor promised. "I do not understand, however. She is in a relationship with you. Should she not honor that? At the least, it seemed unfair to you both, for her to not know."
"Thor, she's fifteen!" Bruce reminded him. "Have you read her files? She thought you two were iordering/i her into my bed!"
"Wait, she what?!" Tony squawked. "I didn't say that! We didn't say anything about sleeping!"
Thor nodded, horrified.
"You must believe we would not intentionally compel her, especially while so young, into such a situation," Thor vowed.
"I know," Bruce assured him, "but you have to see it from her point of view. At fifteen, Natasha was being trained as a spy, by a group called the Red Room. You placed her relationship with me, her defection, and joining Shield all on one list. She drew her conclusion from that."
"Yeah, but I just meant..." Tony trailed off, grimacing. "I was just trying to remind her that she has this whole life to get back to."
"That life will be waiting for her, when and iif/i she comes back and wants it," Bruce said finally. "In the meantime, you have to let her make her own choices. I promised her that."
"I do not understand. Why do you not fight to keep her?"
"There's an expression, Thor. 'If you love someone, let them go. If they come back, cherish them. If they don't, they were never yours.'"
"In other words, our good doctor is doubting himself, again," Tony sighed. "You gotta quit doing that."
Bruce shrugged, smiling with bitter humor.
"Fine. Whatever. You win, big guy. I just hope you know what you're doing."
Bruce sighed. That was his cue to leave and he took it. He wandered to the communal living area, pausing in the doorway. Steve and Natasha were playing a video game together. The young couple sat side by side on the couch, just far enough away to give them room to maneuver their hands and arms freely. On the screen, Mario and Luigi were tearing around a track in funny little cars. Bruce smiled painfully, as Natasha gave a triumphant peal of laughter.
"You haven't won, yet," Steve scolded, his voice determined.
"Yet," Natasha agreed, confidently.
"Oh, okay, we'll see," Steve challenged, laughing.
"I have all of the advantages," Natasha said smugly.
"Advantages?" Steve repeated, disbelieving. "You never played this before, either!"
"No, but I'm more familiar with the technology."
"I'm a quick study!"
"You're good," Natasha admitted, grinning. "I'm just better."
"I don't think so," Steve denied, laughing.
Bruce didn't laugh, just smiled wryly. The teens stopped talking, focusing on the game and driving with fierce determination. Finally, Natasha won, throwing her hands up in victory. The exuberant gesture was both warming and unfamiliar, the act of a stranger. He felt a pang of longing for the Natasha he knew, the tightly controlled, but caring woman, with her small smiles and hidden depths. As much as he missed her, this child was not his Natasha. The thought let him watch without bitterness as she leaned into Steve, turning to kiss him briefly, still smirking. Sighing silently, Bruce left, leaving Natasha and Steve to their games.
Two nights later, Natasha lay in bed and dreamed.
i"Are you here to kill me, Miss Romanov? Cause, that's not going to work out, for everyone."
"No, of course not..."
"I have a specific skill set."
"I can kill you or I can recruit you.
"What are my choices?"
"You can keep killing for the highest bidder or you can do something constructive with your skills."
"By killing for SHIELD?"
"You've got a lot of red in your ledger, Widow. This is your chance to wipe some of it out."
"You want to know my secret, Agent Romanov? You want to know how I stay calm?"
"Reboot complete. You got your best friend back."
"Thank you very much, Agent Romanov."
"Well done, with the new chest piece. I am reading significantly higher output and your vitals all look promising."
"Yes, for the moment, I'm not dying. Thank you."
"I want you. Why is that surprising?"
"Other than I'm fifteen years older than you? You know why."
"I can handle it. We worked well together in the last fight."
He sighs, touching her hair.
"Natasha, are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
She kisses him. His mouth is soft and warm and his eyes are owlish and round behind his glasses. Part of her wants to laugh; most of her wants to devour him. She settles for pressing against him, enjoying his solid warmth. He has no idea how sexy he is-it's a nice change from the cocky, military types she's usually dated. For once, Natasha is going to let herself have something soft and sweet and real in her life./i
Natasha woke abruptly, sitting up in her bed. Trembling, she looked down. Her pajamas were pulled uncomfortably tight across her body. Grimacing, she tugged them off, her mouth twisting in amusement, as the bodice of her shirt ripped open. Well, so that's how Bruce felt. She stared at her hands and legs for a few moments, then got up and looked in the mirror, confirming what she already knew. The machine's effects had worn off and she was back to her proper age.
Natasha grabbed some of her adult sized clothing and began dressing, trying to decide what she should do next. She slowly pulled on her clothes, noting the contours of her body, the way the clothes fit her. She was an adult, now, with an adult's perspective, but she had changed. She'd had a true taste of childhood and young love. She stared into her reflection's eyes, challenging herself.
"So, who's it going to be, Romanov? Steve or Bruce? You can't have both," she told herself, flatly.
Steve and Bruce stood in the middle of Boston Harbor, dripping wet and grim. A pair of monsters swam in the ocean, creating enormous waves and churning waters. Tentacles, some ten feet long, slapped the surface of the water, whiled the monster croaked it's defiance from a curved beak.
"I think you need to suit up," Steve ordered, impatiently.
"Now that science has failed?" Bruce asked with dry sarcasm.
"I didn't say that!" Steve snapped. "You gave it your best shot, but these things aren't from Earth. Now turn into the Hulk, so we can finish the damn things!"
"Enough! Steve, Bruce had no way of knowing his compound would split the beast in two, but not kill it. We have a sad lack of knowledge about these creatures. Bruce, the compound may have failed, but the creature seems to respond to brute force. We need Hulk," Thor lectured.
Bruce and Steve looked away from each other, then nodded. Bruce transformed into the Hulk, leaping with enthusiasm into the battle. Steve ran to the side, trying to get a clear shot with his shield. Each of the Avengers attacked in turn, using their different strengths to harass and weaken their opponents. Steve and Thor attacked the smaller monster, alternating blows with their shield and hammer with strikes of lightning. Hulk, Clint, and Tony made good use of strength, arrows, and repulsor blasts.
Steve recoiled in surprise, when the metal conduits of the Widow's Bite weapon landed on the monster, penetrating its skin. Electricity danced down the lines and the creature squawked in pain. Steve looked up to see Natasha standing nearby, her expression calm and focused.
"Electricity seems to work best," she observed calmly. "Well, that and smashing."
Steve looked towards the other monster and grimaced in disgust. Hulk had managed to rip the beast in two, but this time, it was truly dead. The Hulk was covered in blood and gore, roaring triumphantly. Steve shivered, noticing that Natasha was watching the scene calmly, a small, fond smile gracing her lips. Steve turned back to the other creature, but it was dead, too, killed by a final blast of lightening from Thor. Sighing, Steve pulled off his cowl, approaching Natasha.
"Natasha, where have you been?" Steve asked, plaintively, bending to kiss her, without waiting for an answer.
Natasha placed a hand over his mouth, smiling gently.
"I needed to think, without being distracted, so I spent the past three days at SHIELD," Natasha explained. "We need to talk, Steve."
Steve nodded, his expression grave and slightly wounded. He jumped, when the Hulk landed heavily beside them. Hulk eyed them both, then crouched down.
"Tasha and Star Man remember Hulk and team now? No more tiny team?"
Tasha smiled, stepping forward and placing a hand in the Hulk's hair.
"Yes, we remember now. Right, Steve?"
Steve sighed, then smiled apologetically at Hulk. Blaming Bruce for Natasha's disappearance had been unfair. Steve wished he'd been able to curb the feeling. Now, here was Hulk, reconnecting to them both.
"We remember, Hulk. It's good to be back," Steve assured him.
"Tasha come back to tower?"
"Yes, I'm coming home now," she promised, dropping her hand, reluctantly. "I just have to talk with Steve first, okay."
"Talk boring. Smashing done good. Hulk see if Long Hair will play."
Natasha watched Hulk leave, smiling. Steve sighed.
"I'm not going to like this, am I?" he predicted.
"No," Natasha agreed, sadly. "Come on. Let's find someplace private."
She led him to a small, mostly empty bar and sat them in the back, at a booth. Steve sat across from her, leaning forward earnestly.
"Tasha, before you start...please reconsider. I-I know this started with Doom and his machine. I get that and that you were already with Bruce, before. I just...I just don't think we can pretend this didn't happen!"
"No, I don't think we should do that," Natasha agreed. "We got a second chance at childhood, to know each other and ourselves in a completely new way."
Steve frowned, the hurt in his eyes increasing.
"What I feel for you isn't some schoolboy crush, Natasha. I love you."
"No, I wasn't saying that, Steve," Natasha assured him, placing her hand on his. "I know your feelings are real."
"And your feelings?" Steve asked quietly.
"My feelings are complicated. Yes, I am a bit in love with you. But, there's a difference between loving someone and being in love."
Steve nodded, his gaze falling to the table. Natasha frowned, sadly.
"You love Bruce," Steve concluded, his voice thick with feeling.
"Yes, I do. What happened to us didn't change that. Steve, I have to choose now and I can't based purely on emotion. I'm an adult, now, making a considered choice. As meaningful as what we had truly was, I was fifteen. I based the decision to be with you on the wants and needs of that age."
"And, I don't meet the wants and needs you have as an adult?"
"You might; you might not," Natasha told him, shrugging. "I don't know. I do know Bruce does, though, because he and I have worked on our relationship. We've both put effort into what we have and I don't want to throw that away, because of some accident."
"I understand," Steve conceded sadly, not able to look up at her.
"Steve, I have to ask. Are you going to be okay with this? We do have to consider team dynamics."
Steve looked up at her, his expression determined.
"Yes. Bruce loves you enough to let you go. I guess, if I can't do the same, then I don't really deserve you."
"I'm sorry. I know of all of us, you're getting the short end of the stick. And, you do deserve better."
Steve sighed, giving a slight, helpless shrug, before meeting her eyes.
"I'll be okay. I mean, you were right about our childhoods, so some good came of it."
Natasha stood, standing next to him and placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Come on."
Steve placed his hand on hers, smiling ruefully.
"So, is 'let's just be friends' an option here?"
Natasha smirked, head tilted in challenge.
"Of course it is. I fully intend to keep kicking your ass at Mario Kart, Rogers."
Steve rolled his eyes, but his smile was a bit more relaxed.
"I guess we better get home, then."
Video games, of course, would have to wait, even once they got home. Natasha had an important task to complete, one almost as painful, though certainly more hopeful, than her interview with Steve. She fully intended to speak with Bruce, as soon as she reasonably could. Still, she decided to give the Doctor an hour. Changing to and from the Hulk left him weary and hungry. Natasha wanted him as comfortable and relaxed as possible, during their talk.
Fortunately, Natasha found Bruce in his labs, not in his rooms. Their last talk there was, no doubt, still too fresh in both their minds. Bruce was bent over his worktable, manipulating images from the computer, but experience told Natasha that he wasn't really focused. His movements were too slow, almost desultory. Smiling, Natasha walked over and sat beside him.
"Hi."
Bruce gave her a shy, hesitant smile.
"Hi."
Natasha smiled, tempted to laugh at the stereotypical awkwardness of the situation.
"We need to talk, you know," she prodded, trying to catch his eyes.
"I know," Bruce agreed, resolutely staring at his data.
Natasha leaned back, studying him with exasperated fondness. She weighed her options and chose a tactic.
"I broke things off with Steve. I guess, the only question is can you forgive me?"
That brought Bruce around to face her, his brow furrowed, his mouth pursed. He sighed, removing his glasses.
"There's nothing to forgive, Natasha."
"Maybe not. Still, I've been making choices that aren't in either of our best interests."
"Steve's not a bad choice."
"He's not my choice, though. I just couldn't see that, at that age," Natasha said, regretfully. "If I'd had all of my memories..."
"Natasha," Bruce interrupted, shaking his head. "That's not...look, even if you had kept your memories, if you had remained de-aged...I couldn't have. You were ififteen/i."
Natasha smiled, teasingly.
"Yeah, I got that, when I tried to touch you. Pretty funny, in retrospect, Banner."
Bruce chuckled, shaking his head.
"Yeah, thanks for that. Because, you know, I didn't have anywhere near enough creepy moments in my life."
Natasha stood and squeezed herself between Bruce and his table, facing him.
"I choose you," she told him, bluntly. "So, how about it, Doc?"
"Are you sure?" he asked softly, smiling, remembering when she had first approached him.
"I'm sure," Natasha repeated, pressing against him, kissing him.
It felt like coming home.