BEFORE THE STORM
A/N: I will be utterly shocked if anyone bothers paying this little one-shot any attention. I'm not stating this because I believe the stories quality is horrible (on a scale, it's decent) but because I know that there's a larger fandom for Bruce x Natasha. I should know…I'm a part of the fandom. But that rare occasion comes when I also ship the same person with an OC. This is one of those rare moments. I randomly felt like writing a Bruce x OC one-shot. I thought it would be interesting. Takes place right before Natasha's rescued.
The warmth within the small, steel walled room had grown stale since Pedma had been dropped off moments ago. The usual friendliness of the small bed in the corner along with the few books settled on small wall shelves seems more like a distant friend. They stare at her as if she were meeting for the first time, covered in questions and curiosity…and danger. Her small closet open slightly with only a few measly garments on hangers and one pair of black and white runners nestled comfortlessly on the small shoe shelf above.
Her eyes catch a petite pair of grey yoga pants and a black v-neck leather top with no sleeves. They hang undisturbed, as if begging to be left alone away from the fight. But Pedma couldn't tell which fight, and it didn't matter to her…because Steve had been specific when he spoke to the team earlier, "Three minutes," He had said, casting everyone a quick glance, "get what you need." A blue top with small round gems sewn into the sleeves booms with a loud, prominent voice. As if it wanted to be picked.
Pedma grimaces, stretching her fingers slowly to rid a sudden discontent…like her fingers had been balled into fists for years. She quickly snatches the clothes from their comfortable spot, shooting the blue top one more look before throwing them on to the bed.
As if the cold could penetrate through her skin, she felt her heart pain little…and then nothing. Like the world didn't exist and cement took hold of her emotions and longing. But she didn't care.
She strips and slips into the matching set of clothing quickly, not hesitating to keep her eyes peeled away from the clock that was drilling a hole through her head. Pedma finishes by touching her braid, and snatching a glance into the small mirror. Staring back is a woman with a blond braid disappearing behind her back, and amethyst eyes.
The proof of her curse.
But it wasn't a curse.
An echo of laughs and screams tear through the silence. They take several minutes to fade, but each moment lasts longer than an eternity. Despite everything, they were clear to her. As clear as the clock ticking in the background.
And yet the silence became dominant after a while, and no one came barging in with notes of concern. The laughs and screams came from past ghosts. The ghosts that haunted her.
A thing stared back. Sure it took the form of a human, and looked very similar, but she knew better. The reflections eyes tore a whole into her soul, like a knife cutting into butter, or a piercing cry crushing the silence.
It seemed like ages before Pedma finally glanced back at the clock. Time was up. The future had come…it was knocking at her door. Pedma caught the eye of the reflection one last moment, and then swung her door open without hesitation and shut it behind her. The late afternoon sun greeted her through the windows of Stark Tower. But besides the light change, nothing caught her eye.
She started down the hall.
"…that's true, he hates you the most," Pedma heard the Vision state quickly from just up ahead. She rounded the corner in time to see Tony blankly stare at the wall, then his eyes darted quickly to the Vision who disappeared down another hall.
The others, Bruce who stood beside Tony and Steve who sat in a chair, didn't notice her at first. She didn't want to bother them. It seemed like they were having a moment, but time grew still when Bruce locked eyes. His eyebrows furrowed, but it takes several moments before he could look away.
He hated this. She knew it.
When Steve had suggested Pedma and her shape shifting skills as the main character in the saving Natasha plot, he grew less and less like a dead, silent tree and more like the engine on an airplane.
But she didn't care.
"May be the last moments I get…staring at New York like this," Pedma muttered, staring out the window at the streetlights.
Bruce continues to stare out the window, hands deep in his pockets. Pedma waited for him to say something. Anything to break her out of the prison she was slowly rebuilding. But silence dominated and won. His eyes glance down for a brief moment. Pedma wanted to know what he was thinking…what was going through his mind at the moment. Every time she opened her mouth, words failed and clogged her throat. Instead she gazed back out the window, allowing the cement encasing her heart to grow and thicken.
The sound of footsteps approach, then stops a few feet away, "We're ready." Pedma glances back to see Steve staring at her, hand firmly grasping his shield.
"Okay," She could hear the emotionless robot in her voice, the shallow meaning, but she didn't care.
His eyes fall briefly on Bruce before he quickly retreats down the hall, and around the corner.
Without another word, Pedma lifted her right arm up, extending it towards Bruce, eyes peeling away from New York.
Bruce looks down at her hand, his dorky smile spreading across his face, "Really?"
He chuckles, grasping her hand with his and offering a firm handshake. For a moment, either refuses to release the other from the grasp, locking eyes for as long moment.
"See you when you get back," Bruce mutters under his breath, glancing at the hard floor.
Something catches in Pedma's throat, the cement around her heart doubles in thickness, "When I get back." She says firmly.
Bruce's eyes peel away from the floor, and lock on to hers again. He knew she knew. She could sense it. Agony bounces off of the shield encasing her heart, and she ignores it. Pedma pulls her hand away quickly, coldly staring at him. She had been preparing for this moment.
Another broken heart for the pile.
And if he didn't care about leaving her behind, she found herself not in tune with his emotions.
Pedma quickly releases his grasp and blinks, "Goodbye Doctor Banner." She retreated quickly after Steve, not bothering to turn around and look at Bruce. Nothing on earth could make her care about his reaction, or what he thought. When she got back, he wouldn't be there.
When she got back, he would be but a ghost.