Chapter 1
Dushanbe, Tajikistan.
The mission had gone a bit awry. The base in Tajikistan was a lot much stronger than all the other ones, both regarding the number of soldiers and concerning weapons. Their weapons seemed much more technologically enhanced, which was definitely a result of using Chitauri remains and combining their strengths to eliminate the weaknesses of their older makeshift ones.
Their plan was strategic, yet simple. Steve and Sam would engage and cause a significant distraction while Natasha would secretly enter the chamber, find the primary source of their Chitauri weapons, extract any vital information about their sellers or other areas which are invested in similar trade and lastly, destroy all evidence.
Things had started going wrong when both Steve and Sam were overburdened with a considerable number of men, and Natasha was taking a bit longer than she usually did. The chamber was much more diversified and had quite many protective layers, which she had to tediously tear down. She too had to engage in combat with many guards down there and that also, without raising an alarm.
Finally reaching her goal, she found the room where the core component was present. Swiftly entering without gathering any attention she did a quick survey of their research lab, ensuring that it was empty, she started getting down to the dirty work: backing up the hard drive while simultaneously, she began working on disengaging the core.
Halfway through the hard drive and while still struggling with the alien tech. Natasha turned on her comm piece and decided to check in Steve and Sam, whom she hadn't gotten any news tell now. Strange, she thought.
"Guys I'm halfway through. You two holding up okay?" Natasha asked through her comm, without letting the slight worry she felt, at the moment, creep into her voice.
Steve didn't carry his shield anymore and Sam was particularly running low on armor. And even though she knew that Steve Rogers was Captain America not because of his shield or fancy uniform but simply because of his innate goodness and will to save the whole goddamn planet, each and every single time, no matter what it cost him; that was precisely why she was worried. Steve never watched his back, which for her meant that that job was precisely left for Sam and her.
After a long moment's wait, Natasha finally heard Steve's breathless, strained voice back.
"Nat we're…kind of a little…outnumbered here," he choked out through grunts and groans, some his and some of his opponent's.
"That barely covers it," came Sam's huffed voice. "They're beating the shit out of us here."
Natasha didn't need to be told twice. She could easily figure it that the enhanced technology that she saw around her was something her teammates were currently fighting through above her.
"Well you kind of deserve it though, but don't worry. I'm gonna come and grab some limelight," she responded cockily, while quickly winding up with the hard drive.
"Seriously? After everything I've done for you?" Sam mocked, almost making Natasha snicker.
The Chitauri tech was still alien to her, so without wasting any more time she decided to blow it up. Securing the drive, she snuck out a time bomb from her utility belt, hastily set it up and started off in the opposite direction, towards the entrance.
One minute tops, she told herself and even though the corridors were extensively branched and confusing, she didn't miss a beat, remembering the route perfectly; she was the Black Widow for crying out loud.
In precisely the 57 seconds she reached her destination, sprinting as hard as she could, behind her the entire compound completely blowing up, the impact of which effectively throwing her ahead, making her gain the attention of each and every single one on the field.
"That ought to do it," Natasha grunted, getting up. She was definitely in the limelight now, being almost instantaneously swarmed by men. Without even blinking she snatched one of the enhanced rifles by jabbing the soldier right in front of her straight in the gut, she soon started reducing the numbers by shooting them down with their own weapon.
Now with the three of them together, all they had to do was wipe out the reminiscent of the soldiers and just escape and even though they were a formidable trio, it wasn't just as easy; it never is.
The battle had been fatiguing. And that was an understatement. Sam had gotten shot twice in his right leg, as a result of which both Steve and Natasha had to jump right in front of him to protect him and to continue fighting as well. Sam was definitely the most injured but he was not the only one for sure.
Steve had almost gotten stabbed in the shoulder and was just saved in the nick of the moment by a very deft Natasha, who effortlessly dislocated the man's arm making him howl in pain. But as a result of which, in the end, she too sported a tiny but deep-rooted cut on the edge of her lip, which was bleeding profusely and her consecutive strikes and movements causing the blood to smear all over.
After they had gotten each and every one of them, Steve and Natasha carried an almost unconscious Sam to the Quinjet with nearly none of his cooperation.
The Quinjet was a travel tool for superhero's like the Avengers, so it was natural that it had emergency equipment and first aid kits that would suffice their superhero-sized requirements whether the Avengers were still a team or not.
Once inside, Steve quickly turned the engine, set up the coordinates and put the jet on auto-pilot while Natasha immediately started tending to Sam's wounds. It was essential to get out of there fast and not attract any more attention. Once the jet was stable, he hurried back to her for any assistance.
"How's he doing?" He asked her while she was hooking Sam up to an IV.
"Luckily, the bullets from both the wounds haven't penetrated too deep. There is blood loss but it's nothing too extensive," she replied, without looking up, not missing a beat. In short, the wounds were something that Natasha could efficiently treat. And even though both of them had been top-ranking Shield agents for quite some time, Natasha was a little better than Steve in these medical things. She'd known quite a lot about battle wounds since she was very small, most of which she'd learned first hand, from her own experiences. She had to master the art of survival to become the Black Widow.
After examining the wound thoroughly, she got all the forceps required to undertake the small surgery. It was a tedious task that required a high degree of precision, but soon Natasha, along with Steve's help got both the bullets out.
She did everything perfectly – right from applying pressure, to pulling out the bullets, giving the anesthetics and finally cleaning and bandaging it after the stitches.
Steve was almost in awe of her assiduousness, how she could stay so calm and composed when she was working with so much precision was something he could never really get over. He, of course, tried to help as much as he could, passing her the instruments as an when required.
At last, it was finally done. Sam was dead asleep due to the drugs. Natasha sighed, taking a seat. Now that she was out of her automatic mode, she could feel everything catching up to her. She was dirty, tired and bleeding; a combination she was way too familiar with. Steve got two bottles of water and sitting beside her, passed her one.
She looked up at him, his presence saying much more than anything at the moment. They were both exhausted in ways that weighed much more than their physical injuries.
After a couple of minutes, Steve went back to piloting. They were about to land in some time and the weather was a bit stormy outside. Natasha closed her eyes for a few moments, letting her mind drift.
The past few months had been…difficult. The entire chaos over the accords and the Avengers splitting up weren't particularly easy things to deal with. The only thing Natasha wanted was for them to stick together, as a team, but she clearly failed, once again; that was made pretty significant in her last conversation with Tony.
Tony walked away, clearly upset after his conversation with Vision, his former A.I and turning his head, there he saw her, Natasha Romanoff, the one who he had come to trust wholeheartedly, she had always been his ally and even though he was so mad at her, the expression she donned was enough to make him want to talk to her. She shared his concern for Rhodey.
Both of them stood at the edge of the balcony, facing the vast row of trees and the field. Natasha had her arms crossed, and Tony held the glass edge with one hand, his other one being placed in a cast.
"The doctors say he shattered L4 through S1. Extreme laceration in the spinal cord. Probably looking at some form of paralysis." He stated in a matter of factly tone, not letting his emotional state overpower him.
"Steve's not gonna stop. If you don't either, Rhodey's gonna be the best case scenario." She told him earnestly, remembering Steve's determination.
"You let them go, Nat."
"We played this wrong."
"'We?'" He snickered, "boy, it must be hard to shake the whole double agent thing, huh?" Natasha's eyes widened a little at that, she was almost startled. "Sticks in the DNA," Tony stated coldly, clearly letting his anger get a hold of him.
"Are you incapable of letting go of your ego for one goddamn second?" Her words made him look away.
"T'Challa told Ross what you did, so… they're coming for you."
"I'm not the one that needs to watch their back," and she left him there with those words.
She knew that Tony was mad at what happened to Rhodey. She was prepared for some backlash but what he said hurt her. It startled her for a very brief moment, almost catching her off guard. Calling her a double agent was one thing but saying that it sticks in the DNA was taking it to a whole new level. It wasn't just a jab at her; it was a personal attack. She couldn't help but think about her parents. The two people she had longed to meet ever since but whom she didn't even have a single memory of. She wondered if he actually understood what those words meant to her.
Natasha Romanoff had been hurt in many ways, ways more than he could even imagine, physical, emotional, psychological but it still pricked a tiny bit every time someone she trusted hurt her.
Before her thoughts could go any further, she was interrupted by a semi anxious Steve.
"Nat I could use a bit of help here," he said, breaking her chain of deep thought. She joined him in the front, knowing it was landing time.
There was a severe dust storm in their area of landing and Steve was still not that confident with flying, but more then anything, he knew that she was lost in a chain of thought or a memory that wasn't particularly pleasing, her discomfort was almost palpable to him.
He'd known her for about six years now. He had learned a lot of things about her, some of which, even unknown to her. He was one of the very few people who had the chance of seeing the actual Natasha, even if just in glimpses, but he had seen her, raw, vulnerable. He understood her in ways she couldn't even possibly imagine.
Taking a seat beside him and getting a hold of the controls, she teased him, "You know, there's no ice around here Rogers."
"You think I need ice to crash this thing?" He retorted with a smirk, effectively making her chuckle.
Inside, Steve somehow felt content, successfully lightening the atmosphere after the extremely tiring day. Natasha too felt better…lighter after the intense battle and her own draining thoughts.
Sam, Natasha and Steve had been staying is a deserted safe house on the outskirts. The house was old and rusty, but they were still glad to find a place after living in the Quinjet for quite some time. They did have some good friends in Shield back in the day and even though all of them were ex – Shield agents now, they still had their sources.
After carrying a still unconscious Sam inside and settling him, both of Steve and Natasha finally decided it was time to clean up and tend to their own wounds.
The house was pretty small but decent enough. It had a living room, kitchen and small dining area along with thre decent enough rooms, with only one having a washroom with a working shower. The floor upstairs had a tiny room without a bed which was mostly like a storeroom, filled with cartons.
"You're gonna have to stitch that up," Steve said, looking at the tiny but deep-rooted laceration at the edge of her mouth which Natasha had been completely indifferent to.
"I know. But first, I need a shower. Dibs," she said, walking opposite the room they'd just settled Sam in, towards the one with the working shower.
"Huh?" He asked, confused, easily giving her another opportunity to tease him.
She stopped and turned around. "I'm sorry Steve. I forgot you're like a hundred," Natasha said, in a sly tone.
He shook his head and sighed, then looking right back at her, he grumpily stated, "I'm ninety-eight."
Natasha snickered, turning around and walking away, "Respect the elderly!" She loudly mocked, leaving Steve with an amused look on his face.
Steve couldn't help but remember how much Natasha annoyed him back when they were both Shield agents and also when they were training new recruits at the compound, so how could he be spared now?
She set him up on dates with strangers, which were mostly Shield agents, even when he particularly stated that he was not interested. A couple of which went so bad that she teases him about them to date. There were times she, along with Clint or Tony, pranked him and then for at least a week they would laugh at him for falling for something so stupid. Her sarcasm and dry sense of humor, were things that Steve was way too familiar with, not sparing any bit of his 1920s mannerisms.
He had a ton of such memories, but remembering these things, he also realized that the two of them, they had a habit of sticking together, even when everyone else drifted. They were partners and teammates, but without realizing, through their foundation of friendship, they had found comfort in one other that gave them a compelling reason not to leave, even when nothing made sense, at least they had each other to talk through it; always having each other's backs and that too not just on the field, outside of it also.
While Natasha was taking her shower and Sam was dead asleep, Steve decided to get the first aid kit for them from the large black footlocker in the Quinjet. He started setting things up and began cleaning his wounds. Though there was nothing major, he'd still gotten a couple of gashes and bruises and one particularly bad scrape on his back.
Natasha came out dressed in a spaghetti and shorts with her vanilla blonde hair dripping wet. She saw Steve sitting on the bed with his vest lifted up slightly, facing her opposite side, struggling to clean the wound on his back. She nodded her head and chuckled inwardly; Steve was the definition of innocence for her. She felt content that he waited for her here than in some other creepy corner of the house.
"That doesn't look so good," she said, walking towards him, breaking the silence.
Steve stopped and turned around. He opened his mouth to respond with a witty remark, but when he saw her face, he paused, almost shocked. The bleeding still hadn't stopped and it looked even worse than before.
"Have you even seen your face?"
She smiled softly, her heart melting a little at the concern laced in his voice.
"As a matter of fact, no, there's no mirror here, remember?" Natasha said, shrugging unbothered. The only mirror in the house had been broken a few days back due to the heavy wind and tremors of the storm.
Sitting right beside him, she took the cotton gauze and antiseptic from his hand. "Here, turn around. Let me help you," she said patting his shoulder.
Steve, still fixed to his spot, responded with an annoyed sigh. "You look like you could do with a little help yourself Natasha."
Before she could say anything else, he raised his hand, softly touching the cut, half expecting her to flinch but she didn't. She trusted him enough to follow him to the ends of the world; this was nothing. And he somehow felt it, her trust, agreeing with his, by that raw expression in her eyes and her unmoving demeanor.
"I hope it's not infected," he said, breaking the eye contact and blinking out of that enigmatic emotion, continuing to scrutinize the wound carefully.
"It's not." She got up and lifting the first aid kit off the ground, climbed on the bed and took her place behind him. Slowly, she raised his vest a little further and started tending to his wound.
"Sam's going to take time to heal, isn't he?" Steve asked her, staring at a crack on the wall in front of him, ignoring the burn from the antiseptic.
"A few weeks at least. But now were anyway left with very few bases, which also happen to be the major ones. We can call in Wanda maybe?" She asked, almost finishing up.
"Yeah. After today, I guess that is a good idea," Steve said.
"Besides, you're right. I could do with a little help," Natasha said, getting up with the dirty bandages and used supplies to discard them off.
Not missing a beat, Steve understood what she meant perfectly. "There's no mirror here," he repeated, looking up at her.
Nodding her head in agreement, she came back to her spot beside him.
"Don't worry. It's gonna be fun," she said slyly, addressing the look on his face.
The combination of that puckish look along with those words made Steve gulp. His mind instantly went back to the Chitauri battle in New York when Natasha had stated 'it's gonna be fun' and then jumped off his shield, onto the Chitauri chariot-like flying vehicle. She scared the shit out of him back then. He wondered what he'd make her feel now.
For, Natasha Romanoff's definition of fun was very different than everyone else's, and Steve had already had a good experience of that.
A/N : Hey guys! So this is my first time attempting something like this so please cut me some slack if its not that good. I've been wanting to write since forever but school doesn't really let you breathe. Please leave a review and let me know whatever you think and thank you so much for your time!