Breaking Fears Chapter 1: Oh yes! Evolution,, an avengers fanfic

`It's about nine months after the fall of SHIELD, nine months after Natasha dumped all the files of SHIELD onto the internet; for anyone to see with just a click of the button, all of her files...everyone can see she has done, nothing can stop them. It wasn't just her files, though, it was all of them, everyone on the Avengers, everyone in SHIELD; all of it. The only who's probably receiving the same amount of heat is Bruce, he's the only one with a rap sheet that's as long as hers. But if it was possible, Natasha actually has one longer than the Hulk's, an impossible feat, it sounded like, but she accomplished it by the ripe old of 25.

Nine months after Natasha lost all of her covers and she set herself on a journey to find a new one.

It's a lot easier to say it than to actually do it.

Sometimes Natasha can just be walking down the street and some people will recognize her, recognize what she's done, and turn away. Every once in a while, Natasha wished she never dumped everything, all of their could've at least remained somewhat normal, their last bit of privacy could've remained it tact; but there was a bigger to think about, and Natasha always had to think about the bigger picture, that burden always fell upon her shoulders and it pinned her to the dirt.

Natasha wasn't really sure where the journey of finding a new cover would take her, but she knew she had to get away, start fresh. But it took her everywhere, Arizona, Alaska, New Zealand; Natasha thought about going to Switzerland, but then she realized that's probably the last piece of land that doesn't handle war, she wouldn't want to ruin that by heading over there and having all of her troubles follow. She kept moving, leaving, jumping ship, never stayed in the same place for long; everyone knows her name now, that's a whole new territory, one that Natasha was not prepared for, but was handling it anyways.

She hasn't had much contact with Clint or Steve over the last nine months, or anyone for that matter, somehow Fury might manage to get a hold of her, Natasha stopped trying to figure out how he did that a long time ago. She never tries to contact the rest of team, she's never really formed a bond with them. The only time Natasha has ever met up with them, is when she has to go on missions, but she's only done a few with them over the last nine months; and by a few, she meant two. There was one in Morocco with Clint, it went simple enough; there was some guys selling alien artifacts they picked up from New York, it was a simple clean up. The guy was pretty dumb, gave up right away, then Clint went back to New York, and Natasha went to...she doesn't remember, to be honest. If she went on mission, she went to find a new place to live once she came back, didn't want any parties picking up her scent. The second mission Natasha went on, was with Tony, needless to say she was not happy about that, but she kept a professional manner, it was in Quebec, of all places. This mission wasn't as clean cut, though, they were spotted, Tony was in the line of fire so she pushed out of the way, got a bullet on the right side of her abdomen. It was a flesh wound, though, nothing serious.

Quebec was about two months ago, after she got out of medical Natasha 'borrowed' a quinjet and got out as quick as she could. She punched in the first the destination she could think of on the GPS, Natasha left it on Auto Pilot, because as much as she hated to admit it, the wound wore her out, and she needed to sleep.

Now Natasha was at her newest stop, Nairobi, some city in Kenya. She was living in a small little hut on the outskirts of the city, she probably could've picked a quieter place to live, but as troubles go, it was very quiet. Sometimes she might run into drug dealers, or some and idiot with a gun, but nothing that would break a sweat. The walls of the hut were mostly made of twigs and fabric, a simple holding, but it did it's job, it was just one big room, Natasha's bed was just a hammock of a very itchy fabric, there was a small clay fireplace for her to cook food, a ceramic bowl and mirror with a pitcher consisted of the bathroom, but it was more like a washing area. It was very simple, nothing more than the bare necessities, but it was also nothing more than what Natasha needed, it was enough, enough to live by.

She was standing in front of the very dusty and dirty mirror, Natasha lifted her shirt and it revealed her bandaging for the gunshot. She started to pull of the white gauze-which was more like a pale yellow by how often she gets dirty, and muddy here-layer by layer, it came off, until it was nothing more than Natasha's pale skin (Russians don't tan). By now, the wound was completely healed, it left nothing more than a barely noticeable scar. A ripple of silvery rope across what used to be perfection.

Natasha pulled her shirt back down, and tossed the gauze in the fireplace-might as well not let it go to waste-she also wiped her brow free of the sweat that was running freely down her body. It was Africa, it was hot; Natasha was used to cold more than anything else, but oh well. She was wearing a dark green shirt with a dark green button up that was unbutton and the sleeves went all the way to her wrists, she also had dark green shorts with a dark brown belt, and light brown combat boots.

Bang!

The hairs on her neck instantly stood straight like a pole, Natasha pulled the gun out from under her shirt and ran out to see what was happening. It was absolute chaos. There were people running everywhere, running through little stores and shops, jumping out of windows to get away. The sounds of children crying, people screaming, and the 'bang' of bullets filled her ears. Natasha didn't see any guns, though, just a hoard of people practically trampling over each other.

She tried to step out into the street further to get a better view, but there were so many people, that made that task alone nearly impossible. Natasha pushed her way through, shoving past at least fifty people, she had to use a little force to make her way through to the middle; eventually she made it, only getting a little bruised. But then...It was in times like these Natasha wished she was just a few inches taller, her line of sight was completely obstructed by everyone else, and her tiny legs. Then she saw it, to her left was an apartment building that was around four stories, that will definitely give her a better view.

Natasha forced her way back to the side of the street, thankfully it was less crowed over there so she could have more room. Natasha looked around to see which way was best to do this, it was a four story building and each apartment has a black railed balcony. She thought about maybe running inside and finding the staircase to get to the roof, but that would take to much time, too many people to get through, so that idea was blacked out. Climbing it is then. How to get to the first balcony was a problem, though, it was easily twenty feet out of reach. Natasha looked around and spotted a small wooden crate-probably used for carrying fruit-she stepped up onto the crate, looking for the next step of her plan. Natasha looked to her left and out of the corner of her eye Natasha saw a hook that was used for a clothing line; and, light bulb. It was pretty far out of Natasha's reach but it was the closet thing to her, she stood on the tips of her toes and outstretched her arm as far as it could go, and then some. Natasha barely grabbed it with the tips of her fingers, but once she a firm grip on it-or the best she could do-she started to twist to the left which was not easy because it meant for the hook to go even further out of her reach. It was really wedged in the wall, which meant she really had to put her back into it and have an iron grip on the hook. She kept twisting it to the left until the curved part of the hook faced up, satisfied with her work, Natasha let go of the hook and it left a burning sensation in her hand from how hard she gripped it.

Now, comes the hard part.

Natasha used her right hand, and had a firm grasp on the hook; she used the leverage of her entire body, shifting her weight just so, and started to pull herself up. She used the muscles of arm, her back, her core, she felt them pulling, stretching, and twisting until her entire body was above the hook, only held on by her hand. Natasha kept in her handstand position, and felt herself shaking on the inside from work of her muscles, beads of sweat worked down her body, because one wrong move and her head would land on the crate. Game Over; or as Natasha liked to call it; just another Tuesday.

With a flick of her wrist, Natasha twisted her body so she faced the other side of the street instead of down the road. She gently pressed her feet against the wall of the building, tapping the heel of her feet along it until she felt the railings of the balcony. Natasha kept going further to the right, trying to feel for the metal; she eventually heard the 'ping' and hardness of the railing. She wrapped her legs around the railing as if it were a neck of a mark, once Natasha had a tight grip of the railing she let go of the hook, and she was now just dangling in the air, only holding on by her legs. She used her whole body to pull herself up, like a simple pull up at the gym, and used her arms to grip to the top of the railing. Natasha let her feet go undone, now she was only holding on by her hands, she used her muscles to do another handstand-but at least she could use both hands this time-and her legs wrapped around the leg of the bottom of the second railing above her. Natasha let her hands go on the railing to pull herself up once more. She kept doing this cycle of some roly-poly on crack until got to the roof.

Once Natasha got to the roof, she ran to the edge to get a good look of what was going on. It was a group of men with machine guns, two men were on a four wheeler, running everything down in the streets, there was also a few more men on foot, shooting everything down in their path. People were fleeing as fast as their legs could carry them, gripping onto their children's wrist like their life depended on it, screaming and crying at the top of their lungs. Natasha wasn't sure which was louder-the rapid of fire of machine guns or the screaming-because both were pretty overwhelming.

Natasha began to walk backwards on the roof, away from the edge to get a good distance for a running start; and then she charged. Natasha ran as quick as her feet could take her, and she jumped, Natasha flew in the air for at least a good twenty feet dive. Once she got close to the four wheeler, Natasha outstretched an arm and curved it around the neck of the first guy she could reach, she had his neck in an arm lock and she twisted her body so his would go over her shoulder and slam onto the ground while Natasha crouched down on the four wheeler. Natasha made really good timing, because when he hit the ground his was right by the wheeler and his head was smashed in by the back wheels. Not how Natasha expected that to go, but oh well.

One down.

As soon as Natasha landed down on the four wheeler, the other man's eyes went so wide that if they went any further they would fall out of his head. Either finding someone jumping on a four wheeler, scared the crap out of him, or he knew who she was; maybe it was both. Natasha decided to give him a little smirk-like an innocent child-before she grabbed his head and slammed it onto the handles, and then in her crouched position she threw out one of her legs to sweep under him,and the guy went flying off into a fruit stand.

That makes two.

In front of her, Natasha saw around four men with a machine gun for each, shooting down everyone, then she realized that she was on a huge piece of heavy-duty machinery, and mouth curled into a smirk once more. Natasha moved her body for it to actually sit down on the four wheeler, and then she floored it. She looked around for something heavy and small, easily hand held, and then behind her Natasha saw a stack of weapons, including very small pistols. Without swerving over, she reached behind her and grabbed on of the pistols and jammed it into the gas pedal, so it would keep going with out her. At first, Natasha thought against this plan, she didn't want to kill anyone else that is innocent-but then she realized that almost all heavy foot traffic is behind her, which meant these guys were heading for the city. Oh no, no today.

Natasha stood back into a crouched position once she had someone in view, and jumped off of the four wheeler onto his back, the guy instantly started flailing in an attempt to get her off. But that wasn't going to happen, unless she wanted that to happen. Natasha wrapped her legs around his neck and used his machine gun under his jaw to jerk his body backwards so she wouldn't get run over, she knocked them back into some sort of stand, barely missing the four wheeler. The guy was about to move again to attack but Natasha slammed the butt of the his gun into forehead, knocking him out instantly.

Three.

She pushes the guy off of her-he was big-and stands up, carefully making her way out of rubble of the stand, while dusting off her knees. Natasha sees another guy off in the distance and she makes her way running. He was far out of her way, while running Natasha even passed four wheeler which had slowed down after going over some fruit that was knocked out of a stand. She eventually caught up to him, but probably after taking all of the others down, he already knew she was there; the guy knelt down, grabbing onto Natasha's ankle, flipping her over. He went down to straddle her, his fist began to make a target for her face, but Natasha kept her face jerking side to side, narrowly avoiding his punches. Every time his fist hit the ground, dirt flew everywhere, and that gave her an idea; after deciding enough was enough, and was tired of playing a game of dodge, Natasha reached around in the ground and grabbed a fistful of dirt and threw it in the guy's face. He instantly stopped punching her for his hands fly up to cover his face, which gave Natasha the opportunity to flip them over. The guy was still groaning from the dirt, which gave her an opening, she used her hand to swipe at the point between his shoulder and neck, he was out like a light.

Four.

Around thirty feet in front of Natasha was another man, but this situation was a little different, because he had his gun aimed at someone; a five year old boy. There wasn't enough time to get over there, there was nothing she could do; she began to hear her own heart race while thinking of a way to save him. Just then, the four wheeler passed Natasha once more, and there it was; without taking her eyes off of the boy, she grabbed the pistol she jammed in the gas pedal, stopping the engine instantly. Natasha went for the head, and then man crumbled down like a twig in the wind. The boy took off, like a rocket, and Natasha allowed herself to breathe, for a second. She stood up, and dusted the dirt off of her; seriously, there was a lot of dirt.

Five.

For a moment, Natasha thought it was all over, that she took out the last of the bunch. So, why were the hairs on the back of her still standing? Crap... Natasha whipped her head around and saw on the other side of the street that there was another man pointing a gun at her. She felt weight back in her hand, like an alert, and she pointed the gun at him and pulled the trigger; but nothing happened. Seriously? I got scraps? That made her mad. The other guy must've noticed that Natasha had no ammo, because next thing she knows, he's smirking. All Natasha wanted to do was slap it off.

But before Natasha had a chance to do that, there was a 'whirring' sound and the guy dropped like a fly. You have got to be kidding me... There was only was person that could do that. Natasha held back a groan and instead said. "I had that guy." She called out to the guy behind her.

"Sure you did," He quipped sarcastically, while walking up to stand next to her. The Iron Man suit making small 'clanking' noises as he went. Tony stared down at the guy on the ground behind the mask, trying to figure out exactly who it was, before turning his head to face Natasha. "Friend of yours?" He asked in a tone that sounded like he was asking in all seriousness, but Tony was just joking.

Natasha blew out a frustrated breath through her nose and glared at Tony. Oh, how much she wanted to punch him. But Tony was right; she definitely did not have that guy, but she'll never admit that out loud. She crouched down and grabbed a knife from her boot and started to cut the guy's shirt off, to see if there was anything there. But of course, Natasha couldn't do anything like that, without gaining a comment from Tony. "Wow, kinky," Tony muttered, the man did not have an off switch.

But, amazingly, Natasha found it in her to completely ignore that comment. When she opened his shirt she found a tattoo of a tribal mask with two spears behind it, making an 'X', and at the point of each spear, was a skull. It proved her suspicions were real; good. "Local gang." Natasha told Tony. Any sort of scar, or tattoo can be the mark of a gang. She's seen these guys around a couple times, mostly stay quiet, until now. They usually just deal with drugs, but now they've upped it murder. They were stupid to do it, though, when she was just around the corner; and apparently so was Tony. "Sorry to say, they're not in my contacts." Natasha quipped while standing up. She looked at the big suit of armor in front of her, a million thoughts running through her head. Starting with, can I kill him? Because she really hoped the answer was 'yes'. Instead, she went for something more logical. "Reason for making an appearance, Stark?" Natasha questioned.

Tony looked around in all directions above his head, his left, his right, thinking of an answer to give her. "Giraffes?" He lamely offered after a few moments.

Natasha couldn't hold back the small groan that escaped her lips, nor did she care. She bent down to reach for the machine gun-probably best that these aren't just left laying around-and threw the strap over her shoulder. She began to walk away, because Natasha knew exactly why Tony was there. He's done a few times before and she thought he finally got the message, but apparently that was a big 'no'. He came to move her into the Tower, where all the rest of the Avengers are, where Natasha isn't. That was not going to happen. "Go home, Stark." She said, while not looking back.

"Sentry mode." Tony ordered, and the suit opened up wide for him to step out, and it clamped up behind him. He wasn't planning on leaving any time soon, not without Natasha. But she kept on moving, she was determined to ignore him, to get to the hidden quinjet and fly out to her next destination. She was stubborn, but Natasha must've forgot, because, so is Tony. "How's the gunshot?" He asked out of curiosity and a tactic to stall her, but also out of general concern. Tony was right next to Natasha when she got shot, and even though Tony knew it was a flesh wound, it didn't stop his heart from hammering inside his chest.

To his surprise and relief, Natasha actually stopped in her tracks and turned around to face him. She just glared at him, and if looks could kill, Tony would be six feet under. But his managed to keep his fear inside, and kept a calm posture and just simply stared back. Which is not the response Natasha wanted, so she upped the gaming field. While keeping Tony under her glare, Natasha moved forward, hoping that if she was in his face, he would cave and leave. But even when Natasha was right there, Tony did not falter; even though is was extremely annoying, she had to give props to the man. She studied his face, and she was almost surprised when she found concern hidden in his gaze; it surprised her that, Tony Stark, cared about her well being. It surprised Natasha when anyone besides Clint, or Steve cared about; but she managed to keep it hidden behind her mask. "Healed." Natasha stated, remembering taking off the gauze this morning to find it completely healed. She backed off a little to give the both a little bit of breathing room.

"Good..." Tony muttered under his breath, sounding generally relived. "So, was this the latest stop in 'Romanoff's Grand World Tour'?" He asked, gesturing to the surrounding area. He knew that she's been going everywhere since the fall of SHIELD, running all over the world, doing her best to stay away. It reminded him a lot of Bruce, the guy was a master at running away, he was doing for years, ever since he turned into the Hulk, but Tony manage to put a stopper in that. Now he was going to have to put a stopper in this. "No one's really heard from you." He didn't hold his concern back from that comment, Clint barely manage to get a peep out of Natasha in the last nine months; and if that man couldn't get her to talk, then there was a definite problem.

"You know," Natasha started, letting the threatening tone seep into her voice. "When people keep quiet, that's usually code for 'they want to be left alone'," There was definitely a threat hidden in there, letting Tony know he was stepping in harsh waters. "I guess it's hard for some people to understand that concept." She wanted to walk away, to leave him in the dust, but then Tony would just follow, so wouldn't so Natasha any good. She had to make him, if that was even possible; but if there was any that could do it, it's Natasha.

But Tony just decided to nose dive in the water. "Oh no, I understand completely," He corrected. " I just don't care." He said in a completely feigned, innocent tone. Because he really didn't. One way or another, he was bringing Natasha back with him to New York, Tony did not care how long it was going to take him.

"You're not dragging me back there." She warned him, there was no way Natasha would ever live with her teammates. Tony has tried to a few times, and failed each time, it only took a few minutes for him to leave, then Natasha would find the quinjet because her location had been compromised.

"Is 'dragging' the only way to bring you back?" Tony asked, but it sounded like there was a deeper meaning that she didn't feel like thinking about.

Natasha was about to say 'yes' but the word died on her lips, and she went with a different approach. "Asking out of curiosity, or are you taking notes?" By no means was she going to give something in Tony's favor. Natasha unconsciously crossed her arms in front of her chest, creating a barrier between her Tony, distancing herself.

"Neither." Tony stated simply, it didn't pique his interests, and he wasn't saving it in some sort of internal data bank; it was useless. "I need you to come back willingly, If I drag you, you'll just claw your way out." Tony would love if he could just put Natasha in a cage and send her back to New York, but things would go very poorly, very quickly. The amount of catastrophic things that could go wrong in that situation, is too big to count. He had a thousand ways to get her out, but it will only work if she actually wants to come.

"You're not wrong." See? "So stop wasting your breath." Natasha bit out. She pivoted on her feet and turned to leave. Wondering why Tony was fighting so hard for this, he never this hard before, it bothered her, irked her. Why would someone fight so hard for her? It just doesn't make any sense. Natasha was already planning her next destination in her head, since this one is no longer a viable option. Greenland? Paris? Russia? Oh no, scratch that last one, bad idea. It would be nice to maybe smack Tony upside the head before leaving, just get it all out, all of her frustrations, all of her anger, all of her tiredness; but Natasha was not about to falter, not now. She's gone this far, she can go a little bit further, she wasn't about to drop her mask in front of him. She turned to leave and-

"I'll keep wasting my breath." It made Natasha stop dead in her tracks once again. His voice sounded so sure, so arrogant, like always.

She turned around to look at Tony, eye to eye, and for once, Natasha had no idea what she saw. She couldn't get a good read on him, Tony was just simply stared at her, and it made her blood boil. She had no idea what game he was playing, what angle. Natasha wasn't at the head of the chessboard, like she almost always is, and it bothered her. Natasha dawned her 'face of death' as a way to distance herself even more than what she has already done. "Why are you fighting so hard for this? Four months ago-you were gone in five minutes. What changed?" Four months ago was the last time Tony tried to pick her up, Natasha was somewhere in the Virgin Islands, he left as quick as he came, but not this time; why?

Tony knew she was putting up this icy exterior as a way to push people away, but it wasn't going to work on him. He's been doing the whole push people away thing since he was a teenager, he didn't want to be hurt, and it was the best way to find out who really cared. But Tony also knew that isn't why Natasha was pushing him away, she was pushing him, because it was such a hard concept for her to grasp that someone actually cared. "I could say that I made a bet with Barton, but that only takes up 12% of reasoning." Clint made the stupid mistake of betting Tony, it was almost too easy. Natasha dryly raised her eyebrow at that. "It's not a secret, we don't get along very well." That is very true. They claw each other's eyes out whenever they get a chance. That whole 'Natashalie' seriously ruined a chance at friendship. Tony already has trust issues, and it did not help when he found out that his hot assistant is actually a killer assassin/government spy. "Four months ago, I didn't trust you. The whole 'Natashalie situation' threw a serious kink in the matter of trust." Tony didn't feel like playing with kid gloves, he knew Natasha could take it. He's right. Natasha could take it, she was beyond use to someone saying to her 'I don't trust you'. "But then two months ago, Quebec happened, you took a bullet for me." Tony said while gesturing to where Natasha was shot. "And someone who takes a bullet for me-in my book-is someone I can trust." It kind of surprised Natasha that something like that, turned the wheels in Tony's mind. She just took control of the situation, no heroics. Why was it so important? "Now, I'm not saying we're going to become best buds, and braid each other's hair," Of course, he has to throw something like that in. "Just saying; I trust you now." Tony said with a shrug, trying to keep this as casual as possible, because he just went kind of deep a second ago, and that is not something he is comfortable. "That's what changed."

Natasha didn't mean to-but for a second-her mask came off, and her expression was in complete shock. She was in shock by what Tony just told her, that he trusts her, just because of a mission, because of a bullet, he trusts her. It always came as a shock when somebody told Natasha that they trust, and it was an even more shock when Tony Stark told her 'I trust you', it was definitely not what she expected. But once Natasha realized that her mask came off, it went back on, she refused to come off as vulnerable, she would rather be cold, and distant, than that. "That's a nice story, maybe you can tell it to your kids one day." Natasha bit out.

Natasha turned to leave once more, probably the fifth time she's done it, so far; and again Tony stopped her, he refused to let her win, and he refused to Clint win; no way was Tony ever going to lose a bet. "Aren't you tired?" Tony called out to her after she was a few feet away.

He made Natasha stop, again and she was getting a little tired of it, so before turning around, she dipped her head to sigh. "What?" Natasha asked as she turned around for the hundred, millionth time.

"Tired?" Tony repeated. "From doing this whole..." He waved his hand around, thinking of the right word. "Shtick." He knows if was just running around the world to get away, jumping ship whenever, would wear him out. Tony knows enough from when he's seen Bruce come home after running around the world. The bags under his eyes are far more noticeable than they usually, his hair is in disarray, and Tony can actually feel Bruce's bones creak. Natasha just blankly stared at him, clearly not wanting to answer the question. So, he went with a different approach. "For nine months you've been running around to find a new cover. What? You haven't found one yet?" Tony asked, knowing that this was completely pointless for her to do.

"Still looking." Natasha answered simply, as if there was nothing more to say, even though there was so much more to say.

"Oh, cut the bull crap." Tony was finally fed up with all this dancing around, he wanted get straight to the source. Natasha raised a single eyebrow at him and crossed her arms over her chest, testing him to go further; but Tony didn't really care at that point. "The only cover you need, is yourself; Natasha Romanoff, Avenger." He said in a very stern tone, letting Natasha know that he was running on fumes. Tony practically wanted to scream it to her that she didn't need a cover anymore, that could just be herself; to just be an Avenger.

But Natasha didn't know how to do that, she didn't know how to just drop every cover, every wall that separated her from everything else. This is all Natasha knows, she's been learning since she was eight, this is how her brain was wired. How was she suppose to do everything differently at the drop of a hat? Natasha thought about waving him off, coming up with another snarky answer, but for some reason, she couldn't come up with the energy for it. "I don't know how to do that." Natasha let her tiredness seep through her answer, she didn't even try to stop it, there was just nothing left in her.

All thoughts of fighting off Tony, and finding the quinjet, left her; all Natasha wanted to do was take a nap. Because the answer was 'yes', she was tired of running, she's been doing it all of her life, she is so tired of playing spy when there's no one handing her the role. Natasha isn't a spy anymore, the one place she thought she was actually starting to do some good at, was actually a front for an evil organization; and Natasha was playing for them, handing them all the pieces to the puzzle without even realizing it. Natasha wanted to believe that she changed for the better, but she never did; the only thing she is, is a killer. And that's all Natasha will ever be.

Tony's eyes softened at that. He never really thought of it that way, he didn't factor in her past to the equation. He didn't know everything about Natasha, but he did read her file, his curiosity got the better of him; but he also knows that her file is pretty small for how it should actually be. All this woman knows, is how to kill, at least, that's what Natasha thinks; when in reality, she knows so much more, but she has to realize that for herself, it won't do her any good coming from Tony's mouth. "Then come to the Tower, and we can show you how."

He never really thought he would make a gesture like that to Natasha, someone he never thought he would trust, but he's standing there, and saying those words, and all that Tony is hoping for; is that Natasha accepts it.

Bruce was in the elevator, he was on the back to his apartment in the Tower after spending a full day in the lab. He was helping Tony work on some new weapon for the his suit, of course, Tony wasn't even there, he said he to leave for business but didn't say exactly what it was. Tony didn't even take off in the quinjet, he just used his suit, saying he'll be back later. Bruce was used to Tony doing things like that, random things that made no sense, so he just ignored it; but when Bruce asked what he was going to do-because usually when he asks, Tony will answer him-Tony just waved him off, and flew away.

So, Bruce just shrugged it off and went to the lab to work on his suit. He was testing out the repulsors on some makeshift targets, there were quite a few errors; but at least there was only one fire, and a tiny explosion. Weapon's making, was not Bruce's forte, he preferred working with chemicals and stuff like that, but being on the Avengers for two years have grown his knowledge of making weapons; but he still has a long way to go. Bruce has spent a lot of time on working on making arrows, it's insane the amount Clint goes through in a week; but the ting Bruce has honed his skill in more than anything else since joining the Avengers, is medicine. If you think the amount of arrows Clint goes through is crazy, the amount of times he has had to stitch someone up, will blow your mind. Someone is always getting stabbed, shot or blown up, falling off buildings; the works. No matter how many times Bruce will them to be more careful, they're back in the exam room the next day. He also spent a lot of time testing the scanners in the suit for heat signatures and such. He tried to work out the folding in the suit, to fit inside a suitcase, and almost lost a finger in the process. He kept rewiring one way, and then another, then back to the way before. Needless to say, the other did not enjoy doing all that work on the suits almost as much as Bruce himself, be he managed to keep him in check and not destroy the lab.

Now he was in the elevator on his way back to his room, his tired form barely holding himself up. Bruce was probably going to crash on his bed, even though he most likely won't get any sleep, or at least not much. But Bruce just needed to get out of the lab after spending about twenty, straight hours in there. Having things blown up in your face really takes it out of you. He might just grab a cup of tea, and maybe pass out on the couch. He also really needed to take a second, and just let the other guy calm down, or else there will be some major problems that won't be so easy to fix as tinkering with a metal, armored suit, or stitching someone up.

But Bruce's plans were put to a sudden a halt; his apartment is on the 89th floor, but for some reason it stopped on the 53rd. Bruce pulled himself off the wall where he was leaning against and stared at the number in confusion, wondering why the elevator just stopped. Was there some sort of malfunction? Is this another prank? Because has had to deal with a lot of those since moving into the Tower. He was about to ask Jarvis what was going on, but then he found out why, all of a sudden the doors slid open, and Tony waltzed in; Bruce had to do a double take, making sure he was really there.

That wasn't what he expected, he thought Tony would be at least gone for a full day, not just a few hours. But there her was, just casually walking into the elevator and pressing the button for the lab. Of course, because where else would Tony go after spending an entire day flying to who-knows-where, doing who-knows-what? He just simply walked inside and shoved his hands inside his pockets, staring at the doors like he was pretending that Bruce wasn't even there. Which meant only one thing...Tony was hiding something.

Bruce was definitely going to find out what it was, but he had to take his time and not rush things. You can't pry something out of someone, you have to coax it out, make yourself seem nonthreatening. So, he put on the same casual persona and went back to leaning against the wall of the elevator, crossing his arms. A wave of silence washed over the two as no one said anything, both of them were waiting for the right moment. Bruce listened to pull of the elevator going across the thick, strong cable for support. He watched as the numbers went higher, and higher to get to where his apartment was. 57th. 58th. 59th. Pretty soon Bruce was going to run out of time to ask Tony what was going on, and what happened, so he just jumped right into the deep end. "So, uh, how was the trip." Bruce opened up, still looking at the doors, trying to come off as casual as possible.

Tony was also watching the doors, thinking of how exactly to break some certain news to him that he would not be happy about. So, he also tried to make this as casual as possible, like talking about the weather. "It was good. Saw a giraffe." Tony answered with a slight nod, even though he never actually saw a giraffe. He was too busy with machine guns, and red heads.

That threw Bruce off course, giraffe? The only information he received when Tony left was that he was leaving. "Giraffe...?" He nodded and said like he was saying 'cool' or 'sweet'. "You went to Africa?" He questioned, at least he was gaining some information, little by little, but at least Bruce had something.

"Yeah, there was a..." Tony trailed off for a second, he was stuck in a slight rut, thinking of a way to answer to Bruce's question. He didn't want to give anything right away, he had to take his time. "Gifted student." He finally decided that would be a good enough answer. "Wanted to see if he was actually worth his salt for a job here." He never went there to check out a gifted student, but Tony does do that all the time. He hears about all the gifted people that live in poverty or don't have enough money to go to college. So he travels all around the world, and offers them a job at Stark Industries, or give them money for a scholarship. After making all of those weapons which killed millions of people, Tony wanted to find a way to give back, because being Iron Man just didn't ever feel like enough. It never felt like enough, but at least he was doing something.

"Was he?" Bruce asked, knowing that there was no student. All those years of learning how to suppress his anger, were definitely paying off in that moment.

Tony actually turned to face Bruce when this next question. "Who was what?" Tony asked in confusion, completely forgetting about the excuse he made just a few seconds ago, his brain was not his friend in this moment.

Bruce just stared at him blankly for a good minute. Wondering if it was a good idea to Hulk out or not in the confined space of the elevator. He then realized that was actually a horrible idea, and decided against it, and instead answered with, "The student." He gritted out through his teeth to Tony, who was now sweating a little bit, which made Bruce feel a little bit better. Most people would be freaked out by the fact that Bruce felt better because he was making his best friend sweat, but it just meant that he had control of the situation, the upper hand.

It took a few seconds for Tony to come up with what he was going to say next, fearing for his life as he was getting than man who housed the Hulk-irritated. "He was, uh..." Tony started, thinking about how Natasha took down five grown men with just her bare hands. He actually watched the entire fight from behind the scenes, and saw when that guy's skull was crushed under the four wheeler, and how she scaled the front of the building. "Very talented, but I think he just wanted to stay there." He said after a few seconds of deciphering what to say, remembering when he was in Africa trying to convince Natasha to come and move into the Tower. The woman was very stubborn, might even be more stubborn than him.

"Shame..." Bruce replied, looking back to the cool, steel doors.

"Really was..." Tony also turned back to the doors, still sweating, but remained a cool composure.

Bruce turned his head back to watching the numbers go up, and up. 67th. 68th. 69th. He could feel the vibrations beneath his feet as elevator moved to his floor. He was trying to think of something else to bring up, before Bruce would lose his cool and physically rip it out of Tony. Because now it was beyond evident that whatever he was hiding, had something to do with Bruce, and one way or another he was going to find out. Then he remembered this one tidbit of information that could help. "Did you really need to bring your suit on this, uh..." Bruce took a second to think of the right word. "Scouting trip?" He asked with a raised eyebrow, even though Tony couldn't see it.

"I like to make an entrance." Tony simply replied, because he really did. It was a basic fact about him, you could just read about him on the internet and learn that about him within the first sentence of the article. Tony didn't add any details to it, he decided it was best not to say that the reason he needed the suit was because of men with guns, and Natasha.

Bruce didn't make any noise of acknowledgement, just continued to watch the bright, blue numbers on the screen that kept increasing in size. He was waiting for the right moment to further into the conversation instead of this small talk, which was getting him nowhere. But Bruce wasn't exactly sure how to do that. What would he open up with? Would he play good cop, or bad cop? Did he even want to know the information that Tony was hiding from him? Or were things best kept unknown? But then again, if Tony was keeping this information away from Bruce, then it was bound to blow up in his face, sooner or later. So, it doesn't really matter how pretty the package is, only what's inside.

Screw it. "Okay, that's it. No more galavanting around the elephant," Bruce finally had it up to here, and couldn't take it any longer. He turned to fully face Tony, and he looked back at him in confusement. "If you don't tell me what you're hiding from me, I will tell Pepper that every night you go to bed, you sneak off once she's asleep to work in the lab, and sneak back into to bed every morning before she wakes up." Bruce threatened, telling the complete truth, because he knew that would get Tony to finally cave in.

Tony stared at him with wide eyes at the threat Bruce just made before making them into slits, and pointed a threatening finger at him to emphasize his point. "You wouldn't d-"

"Jarvis?" Bruce called out to the A.I., proving Tony wrong in an instant.

"Calling Miss Potts' mobile." Jarvis' voice sounded out through the speakers in the elevator.

"Traitor!" Tony yelled to Jarvis in astonishment.

"Hello?" Pepper's voice came through next, and Tony went as pale as a ghost. He proceeded to stare down Bruce, to see if he was really going to do it, he testing him out. Bruce just raised an eyebrow in return. "Tony?" Pepper asked next, after it was silent for too long. Bruce opened his mouth to tell Pepper everything he just promised to do.

"Sorry-honey-butt-dial." Tony said in one breath and had Jarvis hung up the phone. If Pepper knew he was spending more time than he already was in the lab, Pepper would have his head for sure. A lot of time when Tony is in bed, asleep, he usually ends up having a nightmare, which scares Pepper even more. He doesn't want to worry her more than he already has, so he just goes down to the lab and works to clear his mind. Bruce that he did it, too, because a lot of nights-not every night-he'll spend his nights in the lab, too, mostly just to keep Tony company, but also not to think of all the things that clouded his mind. He tried to get Tony back to bed, but it never worked, so he just stopped trying. 77th. 78th. 79th. "Okay, fine," Tony started with a deep breath. This was not going to go well. He straightened his posture, as to make himself feel more in control, and definitely not as terrified as felt for what he was about to say. "There was no student. I went to Africa because it was Romanoff's last known location. We talked, and let's just say..." Tony stopped for a second to take another deep breath, because the next part was the big news. And it was already getting worse by the second. Bruce's face was completely calm, but Tony knew that was only because of years of suppressing the Hulk; inside, Bruce was anything but 'calm'. "Her apartment will now finally be occupied." Tony finished with a clear of his throat. It took a lot of convincing, but Natasha finally said 'okay'.

Bruce said nothing, he just stared.

85th.

He was watching Tony, seeing if he was going to give any indication of fear. But Tony just stared back, not willing to give in.

86th.

Bruce could actually hear the other guy growling in the back of his mind.

87th.

Tony nearly caved when-for a second-he thought a saw a glimpse of green in Bruce's eyes, but it disappeared too quickly for him to be sure. This was not going well.

88th.

The other guy kept clawing at Bruce's chest, practically yelling at him to crush him.

89th.

There was a 'ding' the only sound there has been in that elevator for the thirty, or so seconds.

The doors slid open to where Bruce's apartment was further down the hallway, but he made no indication of leaving, neither did Tony. They just kept staring at each other, not even noticing the doors.

The doors slid to a close after about 15 seconds.

Bruce finally opened his mouth, after getting enough control of emotions to not have the other guy lash out, effectively crushing Tony and elevator, which would eventually lead to the whole destruction of all of New York; bad idea. "You. Did." He spoke those first two words in a very, calm manner; but it was only because he was seething. "What?!" His voice turned into a whisper-shout with the last word. Bruce could've asked something else, or at least added something more, but the amount of anger bubbling through, stopped his mouth from forming any more words to come out.

Tony nervously swallowed, his calm composure is starting to come undone, he could feel the sweat forming in his palms. Maybe he should've actually given a softer blow to the news, instead of just blurting it all out at once, could'a gone better that way. "You, uh, didn't hear me the first time, Bruce?" He stuttered out. "Might want to clean your ears out." Tony nervously joked, making a swirling motion with his finger at his ear. He suddenly realized how small the elevator was, the floor to the lab could not come sooner.

"Oh, no. I heard you perfectly clear." Bruce corrected through his teeth. "I was just hoping that somewhere along the way from the words forming in your brain, to coming out of your mouth, something got clogged," He gritted through his teeth once more. "And the words came out differently than you expected." He said in a very threatening tone, hoping that everything that Tony said-was not true. That Natasha was not in the Tower, that they were not living in the same building, because that cannot happen.

"There's nothing clogged, I took out all the filters." Tony simply replied with a shrug of his shoulders, he was trying to gain back his calm composure, which was harder than it sounded. Bruce had to suppress a groan at that comment. "I will repeat:" He gestured to Bruce with a flick of his wrist. "I got our pocket sized, assassin to move into the Tower." Tony to him in much more laid back tone than before, and with a hint of pride. He would never admit this to anyone, but Tony was surprised with himself that he actually got Natasha to agree to moving to the Tower. It was easier for him once he reminded himself that Bruce is his friend, and would never intentionally Hulk out, and has much more control than he will ever give himself credit for. But it was still pretty scary.

Any working thoughts Bruce had in his brain, vacated immediately.

Even though Tony has already said it twice, Bruce still had a smidgen of hope that he was wrong. "Huh?!" His poor brain still hadn't caught up with the rest of him.

"Yeesh, man," Tony commented in disbelief, and annoyance. "Natasha Romanoff? About 'yay' high?" He gestured with his hand how small she was by placing his hand by his jaw. "Can kill a man with her bare thighs? It's really hard to mistake someone who can do that." Tony kept listing all these reasons as if Bruce had no idea who he was talking about, which annoyed Bruce to no end.

Bruce sighed in annoyance and ran his hands down his face. "I know who you're talking about," He said in a very tired tone but it was sort of muffled by his hands, just trying to wrap his head what was happening. His mind kept repeating the last five minutes to understand what the heck just happened. Bruce was just suppose to leave the lab and go his apartment to cool off. How could so much change in so little time? He was going to have accept this sooner or later, but he really wanted to choose 'later'. But Bruce didn't have the luxury of that option. "Okay so let me get this straight: You went to Africa...?" Bruce slowly drew out, pointing at Tony who was waiting to make some sort of acknowledgement once he was finished. "To get her to move into the Tower...?" He repeated mostly out of fear that it was really true. "And succeeded...?"

Tony mocked a hurt look at that last comment. "Okay, rude, but I'm going to ignore that." He sighed in relief that he wasn't going to have to repeat everything again. "You know, for a man who has seven Phds, you are annoyingly slow." He commented, but Bruce barely heard him.

Natasha Romanoff is living in the same building as Bruce Banner. Oh Crap. Crap. Crap. Holy-freaking-crap!

This was the last thing Bruce wanted to be told. His brain couldn't even begin to process what was happening. It was impossible to make peace with the fact he was going to be living with Natasha. This was all sorts of levels of bad. This was catastrophic. Colossal. Monumental. The amount of paper it would take to list all of the reason why this was so horrible-would take every forest of the world.

You want to know this was so horrible?

It was because they have barely spoken a word to each other in two years. They've never even been alone in the same room. (Get your mind out of the gutter.) If they look in each other's direction by accident, they look the other way so fast they've gotten whiplash a couple of times.

Why is that?

Because two years ago, Natasha was nearly killed by Bruce's greener half. It's kinda hard to converse with someone who was almost killed by something inside of you. Sometimes when he closes his eyes, he can remember her look of absolutely, petrified fear; it's not really something that goes away. He's seen that same look in all the he has attacked, or in most cases-killed. It's an absolutely terrifying thing to see. But Bruce has never constantly been around one of them, usually people who are attacked by the other guy are either dead, or he'll never see them again because they are paralyzed to just be around him. It's become like some sort of unwritten decision that they just don't talk to each other, it's easier that way, so that don't have to deal with the obvious problem at hand. Neither of them will have to deal with the hurt, or the fear, it's better to just ignore it.

So, for two years, that is exactly what Bruce and Natasha have been doing; ignoring it. You're not bleeding till you look at the wound. And it's been easy to maintain because they only ever see each other if she's required for a mission. But even then, the chance of being in the same room was pretty rare, because Bruce did not go out into the field. So, the only way they could ever see each other is if he appeared on a screen, or something; or the even rarer chance that Natasha was in the Tower. Bruce could count on both of his hands the amount of times he and Natasha have physically been in the same room.

But now that she is living in the Tower, it will be much harder to maintain that distance.

Bruce was so consumed by his thoughts he didn't even realize that Tony was still talking. "It took a lot of effort on my part, but I managed to get the deed done." There was a hint of pride that time, it was on a full, blown display for all the world to see.

Once his mind came fully to the present and finally took a grasp of the situation, Bruce realized how much he hated that Tony was actually happy about this, and how he thought it was a good thing. "Tony!" He caught the billionaire's attention who was wrapped up in his own rant. "You shouldn't be patting yourself on the back." Because the man clearly was. "You should be whacking yourself upside the head with a mallet, to knock some sense into yourself!"

"Why...?" Tony was clearly confused by the statement, for a second it slipped his mind why he was so nervous about telling this to Bruce.

"Why?" Bruce repeated back in disbelief, wondering how Tony hasn't gotten it yet. It should be right in front of him, yet the man clearly did not understand. Bruce was just waiting for it to hit Tony like a train.

It then dawned on Tony why Bruce was angry about this, it all came rushing back. It hit him with the force of ten trains. Oh... "Oh, right," He commented rather dumbly. "She was almost the other guy's side-street pancake of the day." He said in realization, remembering that day on the helicarrier, and watching whatever footage that was actually still intact because of those cameras were destroyed by the other guy. That was not the right thing to be said in that moment. Actually, that will literally never be the right thing to say-in any moment! Bruce glared daggers at him, and when Tony caught the look Bruce was sending him-his eyes went as wide as saucers in realization of what he just said, and how the situation could've probably used a more delicate touch. "But don't worry, I can fix this!" Tony added quickly, raising his hands in surrender.

"Oh, I didn't know you had a time machine." Bruce quipped dryly with a blank face, because that was the only way this was going to be fixed. By traveling back in time, and undoing this whole mess of crap. Bruce could've stayed in the lab, or left for his apartment earlier. Tony could've not gone to Africa; or even better, Bruce could've never messed with gamma radiation in the first place, then he wouldn't have to worry about any of this. But he'd rather not get into that again, he'll never move forward if he stays stuck in the past.

Tony just stared at him in annoyance before answering. "I have something even better, it's a time old tradition," He tried building it up, so hopefully, Bruce will accpet it. "Talk to her." Tony said in a way that made it sound like it was never thought of before, a brand new discovery; but for this situation, it kind of was.

Bruce looked at Tony like he had three heads, he didn't say anything for at least thirty seconds, he was absolutely dumbstuck. "Were you dropped on your head as a baby?" He asked in disbelief at the thought of talking to Natasha ever crossed Tony's mind.

There was a couple seconds of silence, Tony looked like he was actually pondering it before he replied. "Seven, no," He paused. "Eight times." He was clearly confidant of his answer.

He answered. He actually answered the question. It was rhetorical!

Bruce just dismissed it, though, there were more important matters at hand, like the fact that the other guy is really ticked off, and Bruce can't blame him. He can hear him growling, yelling, and grunting, wishing to lunge his hands at the 'tinman.' "You know, the other guy isn't very happy about this, either. I can hear him." Bruce said in a very simple manner, which was terrifying all in itself.

Tony had the decency to look only a little bit horrified, knowing that there was something bigger going on. Getting Bruce and Natasha to talk was the main goal at the moment, he can worry about changing his pants later. It was going to be very bad, and very awkward in the Tower if these two can't say a single word to each other. "Lock that door, Bruce." Tony was referencing to the other guy, they can't deal with that right now. "We're all going to be living under same 98 roofs, you can't be hiding from her forever, not anymore." He said in a friendly, but stern tone.

"Are you sure?" Bruce quipped back. "You just said '98 roofs', that's a lot of space." He added. The Tower was quite a significant building; 98 floors, state-of-the-art technology, home of the world's mightiest superheros. Everything anyone could ever want, but in the back of Bruce's mind, he know's that no amount of space would be able to keep him a safe distance from the Russian assassin. No matter how hard he could wish it. But then it hit Bruce, Natasha hasn't tried to seek him out, either. For two years, they've both kept their distance from each other. Even though she's in the Tower, non of that's going to change in a blink of an eye. Tony was about to respond to the 'lot of space' comment, but Bruce cut him off at the pass. "Besides, for the past two years, she hasn't been so keen on talking to me, either." Bruce said it in almost a guilty tone, because it was his fault that Natasha didn't want to be anywhere near him. "Who's to say that if I do talk to her, she won't just walk away?"

Tony wasn't really expecting for Bruce to comeback with that. That Natasha was just as reserved to them talking, or being anywhere around each other. That didn't make much sense at all, but Tony will just pocket that for later. For now, he'll just humor Bruce. "Let's say, hypothetically, you do manage to scare the bejeezus out of her for the second time, and she turns into a bat and flies away..." Tony just trailed off, not finishing his statement. Bruce raised an eyebrow at him in question after suppressing the eye roll that he so badly wanted to release. Tony realized he stopped talking after seeing the look Bruce was giving him. "Sorry, lost my train of thought." He murmured with a confused look etched into his face.

"Something about a bat," Bruce filled in dryly for him.

You can see the light bulb turn on in Tony's head. "Oh yes! Evolution," Bruce didn't hold back the eye roll that time. Tony thought about backing away from this, and leaving him alone, then all of this can be done with. Two Avengers will just never talk to each other, they're very professional, so maybe it will be okay, communication signals won't get messed up or anything, but it wouldn't be very good for the team; and it wouldn't be good for Bruce, as much as he would deny it. Bruce needs to talk to Natasha, avoiding this issue will just make things worse, he just needs to rip off the band-aid and get this over with. If not, it will be agonizing to watch the two of them. "Talk to her," Tony repeated with a sigh. Bruce opened his mouth to say something but he cut him off. "I'm asking as a friend." He knew he just played that card.

Okay, that was low. Bruce stared in disbelief that Tony just said those words. Not cool. "You wanna play that card? Now? You can only play that card once."

"I know." Tony simply replied.

"You sure you won't to use it for this?" Bruce questioned, hoping that he would say 'no', because if he didn't-there was no way Bruce was getting out of it.

"I'm sure." Crap...

Bruce sighed and dipped his head down. He played the card. There was no way of getting out of it. Bruce has never played his card before, never really had an important reason for it. Then here comes Tony, who's just trumping it up. Perfect. Bruce lifted his head and looked at Tony, it was then he realized something. Tony cares about him, he's making Bruce do this for him, he cared. Which made made it really hard to hate Tony in that moment, as much as people refused to see it, Tony was actually a really good guy, with a heart too big for his own good.

There was no escape; he couldn't Hulk out, the elevator was still moving. There was no point in fighting against Tony, and Bruce didn't have the energy to do it anyways. He was just doing this for Bruce's own good-and again-he really hated that it made it so hard to hate Tony. This wasn't a wing-man on crack, this was someone who was pushing their friend into the deep end knowing they won't drown. Well, at least one of them knew, because Bruce sure didn't.

The situation almost reminded Bruce of a parent making their children eat their vegetables, and because of that, it made it a little easier for Bruce was about to do next. He was going to have to do it; wow, Tony is really good at this. His persuasive powers matched Natasha's. Bruce let out another sigh. "Jarvis, where's Natasha?" He asked tiredly, barely believing he was actually doing this.

Tony just grinned wildly.

Sooner or later? Sooner was happening now. Woo-hoo...

Natasha moved into the Tower after a long conversation with Tony, and a lot of convincing. She didn't want to, it didn't feel right to move in, not when her file was out there; it was like an overwhelming need to constantly be looking over her shoulder, Natasha has always felt like that. But when the files leaked, the feeling only grew, and moving into the Tower would mean no longer requiring the need to look over her shoulder, and that would just feel weird. It doesn't mean that Natasha would stop looking over her shoulder, that would be an impossible feat for her, it just means that she wouldn't have to anymore, and Natasha has never lived in a place where she didn't need to constantly be on the lookout; she doesn't know how to stop it.

But, at the same time, Natasha didn't have it in her to say 'no', she could've, but there was no energy left to say those words. She didn't have the energy to say that she wasn't tired, that she was fine, the well dried up. Because Natasha was so-freaking-tired, she couldn't say 'no', she couldn't say 'no', she couldn't say 'no' to not running anymore.

So-all in all-Natasha said 'yes', and packed up all of her things, which took no time at all, seeing as all of her things were already in a go bag in case she had to leave quickly. Tony came in via Iron Man suit, so she had to take the quinjet back, which was hidden deep in the forest under a bunch of foliage and tarp. Natasha just wished she hadn't have shown Tony where the quinjet was, because apparently taking the Iron Man suit all the way to Africa puts a serious kink in his back, and then for the next ten hours she had to be stuck in a confined space with just Tony who was the worst person to be stuck in a confined space with for ten hours.

Then after all of that, Natasha still actually had to move into the Tower. When they finally got there Tony darted off to an elevator and she met up with Pepper who showed her apartment. It was almost all white, it was open space for the kitchen and living room, simple but nice. After that, Natasha said bye to Pepper who left to probably do some more work for the company.

Which is where she is now, Natasha went to check out her bedroom to put everything away, it had floor to ceiling windows on two walls, a massive, and a big chandelier. She put her go bag on the bed and looked around the room, it had an attached bathroom and walk-in closet. It all felt like so much, there was so much going on. Natasha looked outside the windows and stared out the windows to look at the city which was covered in a dark blue sky, streaking all the way around, but the darkness light up by millions of lights within buildings so high they could reach the heavens.

And that's when it hit Natasha. She just moved into the Tower.

All of those reasons of why she didn't want to move in, just happened. She's no longer on the run. She no longer has to always look over her shoulder. While her file is out for all the world to see-to see all the horrible things she has done-Natasha will have her feet propped up, relaxing. Everything that she didn't want to happen, now has the ability of actually happening. She shouldn't be in the Tower, sleeping in on thousand threat count sheets, she should be sleeping on rocks, having the sound of bullets be her alarm clock; it's what Natasha deserves. But she caved. She let her depleted amount of energy win her over to the light. Natasha was weak, it was such a sorry excuse to move in, she has no right to be here. But she's anyway...and she still doesn't have the energy to change that.

That's when the walls started to close in. The breath in lungs began to decrease drastically. Her balance became unknown concept to her, because somewhere along the way she fell to the floor, right at the foot of her bed. Natasha was having a panic attack. A big one, too.

She couldn't be in that room, she couldn't stay in there. She needed to get out and fill her lungs with fresh air. Natasha tried to move her legs to the best of her ability, but her muscles were slowly becoming undone under the stress of it all. But Natasha wouldn't have it. So, with all of her will, and the strength she did not bare, she managed to barely get her legs moving. Natasha clumsily got to her knees while grabbing onto the bedding for support and reached out for her go bag that was close enough on the bed to grab it with ease. Her shaky hands grasped the zipper and began to pull it back, Natasha blindly reached in her bag, just using her sense of touch to find the object. After digging past some clothes and a few knives, she found it.

Natasha pulled out a half empty bottle of vodka, and took a big swig to help her heart settle to a normal beat in her chest.

Before she knows it, Natasha was on the roof. I guess the process of spiraling into a vortex of nothingness while your mind is coming undone at the seams by your fears, and stress-is rather daunting enough to leave holes the size of Texas in your memory. If it was cold out, Natasha didn't notice, probably had to do with the fact that she's Russian, and that she's still running in the aftermath of the panic attack. She was leaning forward over the glass railing overlooking the Hudson river, her bottle was in hand and it still had a good portion of it's magic left. Natasha could've watched the city pass her by, stare at all the bright lights and screaming businessmen, but she hated the city and watching the calm water calmed her down. Seeing the water roll out, the glistening blue, little boats go back and forth across, it helped Natasha breathe. The water almost reminded her of a painting, or maybe a big mirror, all of the whole city reflected downward upon the river, it was beautiful.

The wind coursing through her hair, shifted, there was something different, then Natasha realized something, she was no longer alone.

The elevator door's opened and someone-very cautiously slow-stepped out. There was shuffling as they moved, the steps were oh so hesitant. It was as if whoever was making the steps-wanted to be anywhere but there. It clicked in Natasha's mind who exactly it was, it was the last person she would ever expect to willingly be in the same area as she was without any company. Maybe they didn't know she was there, but the steps still kept moving forward and in Natasha's direction, if they didn't think she was there-they would've already spotted her and left. Which meant only one thing-this person was actively seeking her out. Now that's a new one. "Come here often, Doc?" Natasha quipped without turning to look at him.

Bruce's steps came to a sudden stop, he felt like an idiot for not realizing that a master assassin could sniff him out from a mile away. For a second on that roof, Bruce felt like there was a chance that he could still escape, but now Natasha has initiated an interaction there was no getting out. "Agent Romanoff." He acknowledged back in a calm manor.

That irked Natasha. "Not 'Agent'. It hasn't been for a while." It really made her mad whenever someone called her 'agent' when SHIELD has been left in shambles. Natasha is no longer a spy, just an assassin; always has been-always will be. But she knew better than to bite the good doctor's head off.

"Sorry, Miss..." Bruce started off sheepishly, but then he figured if they were going to have the most awkward conversation in history they might as well be on a first name basis. "Natasha." He drew out slowly because it most certainly did not resolve the awkward tension.

Natasha noticed that Bruce was still a few good feet behind her and made no evident plans on moving forward. It was rather annoying, but yelling won't help anyone. Plus it also probably took a lot courage for Bruce to willingly find Natasha, it took two years for it to build up, so she wasn't about to go and kick him out. He might run all the way back to Calcutta. She knew that he was not going to move at all unless she gave him the green light...hehe. "Come on in, pull up a chair," Natasha said in a slightly raw voice from the vodka. "I don't bite...much." She gave a playful shrug to that last part.

It kind of surprised Bruce that Natasha was willing for Bruce to stand next to her and talk, it almost felt wrong. It felt more weird than anything. She was suppose to hate him, scream at him to leave, maybe run away. But none of that happened, Natasha was beyond calm for this situation. In a way that made things a little easier, and so much harder. Bruce was still wary about doing this, but there was no backing down now, he slowly moved over in a still very hesitant tone until he was standing next to her, overlooking the Hudson.

Even though Bruce was now standing next to Natasha, nobody said anything. It was deadening silence. The only sound was the slight whistle of the wind every fifteen seconds. It was driving Natasha insane. But what could she expect, this was the most conversing the two have had over the last two years. It was a freaking Dickinson's book compared to Dr. Seuss. But as it made sense that there was going to be an awkward silence, Natasha refused to let it leave this way. "Peace and quiet is always pleasant company, but it doesn't get anything done." she hoped filling the silence would compel Bruce to talk.

It definitely knocked him for a second. For a moment, Bruce forgot there was even a conversation happening, he was nervous that his brain kind of just shut down for a second. It took him a little while to respond, his brain and mouth were still in the process of wiring themselves. "Sorry, it's just, uh..." Bruce trailed off into a soft chuckle of self hate and surprise. "I didn't expect this."

"Expect what?" Natasha asked in confusion.

"You're, uh, you're talking to me." It absolutely made no sense for her to do that. No one in Natasha's position ever has. This is a first. Anybody the other guy has been around is either dead or they would never see him again. Why would they? So, why is she willingly talking to Bruce? It made no sense. "I'd thought that the second you saw me up here, you would've uh..." Bruce was exactly sure how to finish that sentence. "Turned into a bat..." There was probably a whole other slew of ways to finish that statement but it was the only one on Bruce's tongue. He really hated Tony, that probably did the exact opposite of helping the situation.

Natasha should've known something like that would've come out, a freaking bat, but that's not the part that really bothered her. Plus, she knows that Bruce didn't actually think that up. "Okay, I'm going to let the second part of that statement slide because I know those words came from Stark's mouth-not your's." She said in a extremely calm manor but was entirely peeved inside but not for the reason you would think.

Bruce looked nervously guilty even though Natasha was correct, nothing flies over her head. He really should've known that Natasha would know that Tony said those things, it's a little scary how she just knows everything. "You're not wrong." He was going to kill Tony. Wait...Let the second part of that statement slide? That wasn't the part that bothered her? Then what did? This is just getting weirder and weirder by the second.

The confusion must've been noticeable on Bruce's face because Natasha emphasized her point, and what made absolutely no sense and she was wondering why Bruce said it in the first place. "It surprises you that I'm making small talk?" Natasha drew out slowly to emphasize how stupid it sounds, because it makes no-flipping-sense. They actually weren't ever looking at each other for the conversation until just now, when Natasha turned her head to face him. Bruce looked utterly terrified of this situation to almost the point where she felt bad for him. Bruce sheepishly shrugged his shoulders in a way of saying 'yes' but without actually having to say anything. For a moment, Natasha thought he might actually add something to that, but he was as quiet as a mouse. He really didn't want to say anything at all. She raised an eyebrow to say 'go on' to let Bruce know that she needs more information then that, but he kept his mouth shut; and Natasha was getting a little tired of it. "You know, this could go a lot faster if you actually tell me why." She quipped because of how nervous Bruce was, she could tell the sooner he left-the better.

Bruce didn't really feel like being blunt, a hard blow might not help anyone, it would do more damage than good. If he really had his way, Bruce wouldn't even be up there. But there was no getting out of it now, so he might as well just answer her question. Besides, he made a promise to Tony, which meant if he backed out of this now, Bruce will never be able to hear the end of it, and that might just make him attempt to rip off his own ears. "Well, after you met the other guy in a not-so-friendly way, I didn't think that you would ever want to...talk." Bruce said with very guilty undertones that were practically screaming at Natasha in bright colors.

Then it made sense, it all made so much sense that it almost hurt. Natasha felt like an idiot for not realizing it sooner, it should've smacked her in the face, not be trying to get attention in the background. It never occurred to her that the reason Bruce has been so hesitant is actually for her. Now she just felt worse for wanting to yell at a guy who was just trying to be a gentleman. Bruce didn't want to talk to Natasha because he was afraid that she would be too scared. But in a way, that almost made Natasha even more mad. To think that he was almost treating her like a child afraid of the dark when Natasha Romanoff isn't afraid of anything. She doesn't do 'fear'. She's never been a child, and won't let something as silly as the attack on the helicarrier scar her for life. There are much more terrifying things in the world than the Hulk; like human beings, they may be the most terrifying thing to ever walk the face of the earth.

Natasha is not going to let fear control her. Now now. Not ever; and she definitely won't let someone assume that she will, that she'll cower away when things start to get a little hairy. She is not afraid of the Hulk, and she is certainly not afraid of Bruce Banner. "You assume that because I met your greener self that every time you enter the room, I'll cower away in the corner like some child?" Natasha bit the words out calmly, but in a very threatening tone with eyes like daggers.

Bruce was about to say 'yes' but the more he thought about it and how stupid it sounded, the less it felt like it would any work here, and the word died on his tongue. As much as it would make sense for any other person to hide away, to run and scream, it sounded absolutely clueless for someone like Natasha to do it, even though she should, it's safer that way. Bruce is surprised that he didn't think of this sooner, of course she wouldn't run away; maybe walk away in a calm step but briskly, because they have been avoiding each other for two years. And it's changing why? Because Natasha moved in, and Tony used the 'friend card', and now this is happening; and just like Bruce suspected-it's blowing up in his face. "No, definitely not, no." He says in such a confident voice, like Bruce is so sure of that statement-that Natasha's eyes widen out of pure shock. "It's just what everyone else has done," His tone changed to something far more somber. "To see someone not react like that, it's...different." Bruce phrased that to the best of his abilities. An unknown variable of thoughts ran through his head while saying those words, but he couldn't fit all of those thoughts into a single sentence-not without sounding like a madman-so Bruce narrowed it all down into one word; 'different'.

To say that Natasha was surprised by those words-would be an understatement. It entirely knocked her off course, but not because she thought it so astounding that Bruce would say those things-because it really wasn't, it was just so shocking that Natasha didn't realize it sooner. Why was everything about this conversation so surprising? Probably has to do with the fact that they've known each other for two years but have never actually talked to one another. Bruce was just so used to all the negative outcomes of the Hulk, that it became a part of his daily routine; so to have someone who was attacked by the Hulk and not be afraid-would probably be the equivalence of finding the secret of the universe to Bruce. But Natasha wasn't afraid of the Hulk; never has been, never will be. It's pathetic. " 'Good' different, or 'bad' different?" She simply asked because she wasn't really sure what else she could say in that moment.

Bruce wasn't sure how to answer that because he had no-freaking-clue which one it was. Was it good? Or was it bad? On one hand, it was weirdly relaxing to have someone not utterly terrified, like there was the smallest of chances that maybe everything isn't always so terrible. It felt like there was a chance that Bruce could fight this, fight his inner demons. It was weird, just from having someone the other guy almost killed who wasn't afraid, made him feel hope; Bruce felt so stupid to think that when he knows that it's wrong, it felt pathetic.

But on the other hand, it was wrong. Natasha should be afraid, she was an idiot not to be, the other guy could kill her at any second and she's just standing there. She should be absolutely terrified of him, she has every reason to be, everyone should be scared straight of Bruce and the other guy; why doesn't Natasha understand that? Nobody on the team understands that, they're all just trusting him blindly when they could all be killed. Bruce has learned to deal with the others trusting him, and being used to it, especially Tony-but that's a whole other subject. But out of everyone-Natasha's the one who should trust him the least; the other guy didn't try to kill everyone else.

So which one was the overwhelming factor in this situation? The good or the bad? Both are playing war in Bruce's mind, but neither one is winning. There are good reasons for what is happening, and then there are bad reasons; but which one should be focused on? Which reasoning is more important? "I'll tell you when I figure that one out for myself." That was all Bruce could muster up to say in response, everything else would just be a mumbled mess.

That makes sense. Natasha looked at Bruce and saw that he was generally confused about what was happening as she was. I don't think there has ever been such an awkward conversation in history. Would it have been worse two years ago? Or just the same? Wow, that run-in within the bowels of helicarrier that was coming apart at the seams, seriously screwed things over. Natasha just simply let out a small laugh in return. "Touche,"

The air between the two of them wasn't as bad as it was when Bruce first exited the elevator, but it was still pretty weird. The tension was far more breathable but it wasn't enough to stand straight. There was no longer this palpable tension of strain, no one was itching to run away from this situation anymore, but if something were to arise that needed one of them to be called away-it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.

But all of that changed in an instant. Neither of them were looking at each other, just finding other things to focus on. Natasha found herself memorizing the subtle waves of the Hudson river, and how slowly it moved along the bank, and just how few boats there were. But something was different, one of the boats towing leisurely along the river was a little different than every other one; it was a party boat. There was a bunch of college kids drinking their weight in booze, some of them were getting a little too hands-y, enough to give their parents heart attacks. The music was going so loud that if Natasha listened hard enough she could hear the beat to 'Hollaback Girl', they were having the time of their lives, living absolutely carefree. But one thing struck her more than anything else, all of them had a bunch of glow sticks; some of them were necklaces, bracelets, or just plain sticks. They came in all colors, red, purple, orange, pink, blue, yellow...

Green.

That's when calmness, and pleasantness of this situation went out the window for Natasha.

Her chest constricted with pure, unadulterated fear, her vision began to see red, her mind was entering 'fight or flight' mode, all the hairs on her neck stood straight as a tree. The fear in her stomach became so intense Natasha could hear buzzing in her ears, and feel each bead of sweat forming in her palms and upon her neck. But her composure remained entirely the same, the only thing that changed was the widening of her eyes, Natasha wasn't about to falter in front of a fellow teammate, or anyone for that matter.

Flashes of memory began to storm her mind, which did anything but help her.

The muscles began to change in size underneath Bruce's skin, he groaned in response of trying to hold the other guy back.

Green eyes. His eyes were so green, his face was petrified in fear and also saying 'run away', and Natasha knew there was nothing that was going to hold back the other guy.

Running. Her muscles were burning, her ankle was a little sore from the loose pipe, but it didn't slow her down much, thankfully. Natasha needed all help she could get.

Her back was against the wall, staring into the eyes of the beast, and Natasha knew there was no escape, his hand was raised, ready to smash her into oblivion.

Bruce sensed that something was wrong, he could smell it-as weird as it sounds, a little help by the other guy. Natasha seemed calm and okay at a glance, but he could tell that she was absolutely petrified. Her muscles were entirely stiff, and her eyes were wide as saucers. Her knuckles turned so white from her grip on the bottle of vodka-Bruce thought might just break it if she squeezes any harder. "Natasha...?" He asked slowly and calmly out of concern, he said it in a way as if he was approaching a wild animal, and he didn't want to spook it.

His voice pulled Natasha out of her reservoir, she mentally shook her self silly to calm herself, and then began to curse herself letting composure slip enough for someone to notice. That can't happen. But then Natasha realized she was still standing next to Bruce, and that was the last person she wanted to be around. She needed to leave, Natasha had to get out of there. But why? She was fine a second ago, nothing changed besides a simple fluke.

Natasha wasn't afraid of the Hulk.

She wasn't.

But...She was.

Natasha took one last swig of her vodka for good measure, and emptied the bottle of it's contents along with it, and she hated in that moment for being barely able to feel any burning sensation. "G'night, Doc." Natasha said quickly and left in just the same measure.

Bruce turned around and stared in shock, confusement, and concern and she just walked away into the elevator and the doors closed behind her. That was weird. Bruce isn't sure what just happened, but it probably wasn't good. The air felt cooler, the sound was quieter, all of the world came to a slowing stop as he stared at the elevator doors. The only words Bruce could get his mouth to form was "Goodnight, Natasha..." But they were barely able to form even that.

Seriously. What the heck just happened?