NOTES: For those of you who aren't familiar with the comics, there will be a couple new names to you in this and possible future chapters. For those of you who are familiar with the comics, hopefully I did these characters justice.
"No and hell no."
Natasha should have known from Clint's exclamation at breakfast that this was going to be a bad day, but she ignored the feeling and tried to ignore him.
"What are your issues with Drew and Morse?" Steve asked around a mouthful of oatmeal.
"Jessica is an ex-girlfriend," Natasha answered, "and Bobbi is his ex-wife."
Tony's eyebrows shot up towards his hairline. "You were married?"
Clint turned a venomous look towards Natasha before answering. "Yes," he sighed. "To be fair, I was young and stupid."
"Good thing time has let you fix one of those problems," Natasha muttered.
Clint flipped her off in response before turning back to Tony. "Like you've never had anything like that happen to you. I know how often you go to Vegas. Surely some handler has had to drag your drunk ass out of a wedding chapel before you walked down the aisle with some showgirl."
"That has never happened," Tony said. Pepper cleared her throat from across the kitchen. "With a showgirl," he amended.
"Clint, if we ban all your exes from the team, we will significantly shrink our pool of candidates," Coulson said.
"And I would have to leave, too," Natasha reasoned.
Clint waved her off. "You don't count."
She raised an eyebrow at him. "And why is that?"
He shrugged. "You're like my sister."
"So you're saying our relationship was incestuous?"
Tony snickered. "Does your Iowan upbringing also tell you that it's acceptable to sleep with barn animals?"
Natasha cut in before the two men started yet another snark off. "Morse is a good candidate because we need someone who can stay and fight on the ground. Drew has her pheromones, which is a new kind of resource we haven't fought with yet. They've both been part of SHIELD for years and won't have to adjust to that part of the job like new recruits would. Besides," she added with a smirk, "don't you want to show off who you're sleeping with now?" she asked while pointing a finger to their handler.
"God, no. I do not need them to throw a girls' night and drag him along as the sassy gay friend so they can drink the night away telling horrible story after horrible story about me."
"You've really thought this through, haven't you?" Phil asked. "And what makes you think I'd go along with this?"
"I know how much of a sucker you are for a good margarita," Clint answered.
"I will tuck that piece of information away for later," Tony said as he rose from the table. "I'm spending the day in the workshop if you need me."
"How is that different than any other day?" Bruce asked.
Tony put on an expression of mock hurt. "And just when I was going to invite you down for a playdate."
Bruce left to follow Tony down to the workshop. Thor rose proclaiming he felt like exploring the city again today. Coulson shouted a reminder to them all that they had press events this afternoon, which earned a collective groan from the group. "Bruce and Thor are going to the ribbon cutting at the park. The rest of you will be at the Children's Hospital event in your suits. Cars leave here at two."
"I'll make sure Tony hits the showers by one," Pepper commented as she made a note to herself in phone and headed out of the common room.
Steve gently elbowed Natasha. "Aren't you going to eat that?"
She shook her head. "Stomach won't calm down this morning."
"You have to eat something."
"I'm just going to go find a ration bar."
Steve cringed, "Those things don't taste like anything."
"Precisely," she responded. She gathered up her files and headed to her quarters. There she read more on backgrounds and abilities while fighting off the urge to vomit. Setting aside the files, she gave into a nap and was grateful to wake up to a settled stomach. Natasha checked the time and saw that she needed to start getting ready for the press event.
She meandered into her bedroom and removed one of her suits from her walk-in closet. She took a moment to look it over and study the details in the clothing, the familiar pockets and sturdy material. It had been a little over a week since she last donned it for battle, but she didn't know then that it would be her final go-around for hopefully a couple more weeks at most. She ran her fingers over the leather and wished she was suiting up for a fight and not to stand in front of cameras. She'd been pulled off of field duty for less than three days and already she was itching for a mission. She wanted to hit something, wanted to have the satisfaction that came with landing a perfect kick, but she would have to deal without that particular release of frustration for now.
She removed her clothes and shimmied into the suit. Sign number two that Natasha should never have left bed today happened moments later when she tried to zip up the front of the costume. The zipper, which had always been snug over her curves, now refused to move up and over her chest. Muttering a stream of Russian curses, she tugged a few more times before admitting defeat.
Leaving her clothing in its current state, she marched out of her quarters and headed up to the penthouse where they were gathering before leaving. When the elevator doors opened, whatever conversation that had been taking place was quickly cut short when Clint exclaimed, "Damn, Tasha," which was quickly followed by a smacking sound and Barton crying, "Ow! What the hell, Cap?"
"Eyes front, son."
"Umm, they were front; that's how I noticed," he waved a hand in Natasha's direction, "that. And, seriously? 'Son'?"
"Enough," Coulson cut in as he walked up to Natasha, unsurprisingly keeping his eyes even with hers instead of letting them drift to her open cleavage like the men—even Rogers, who would die of embarrassment if she called him on it—were doing at the moment. Normally she would use the distraction to her advantage, but now she felt exposed, and not just physically. The change in her body was not something she was controlling; this wasn't an attempt to manipulate someone, and as much as she tried to school her features right now, inside she was regretting walking onto Tony's floor dressed like this. "I'm sorry," Coulson apologized, "I meant to give you a heads up that you have a standing appointment with the clothing portion of the research department to adjust your suit when you needed it. Just didn't think it would be so soon."
She raised a single red eyebrow and crossed her arms under her chest out of habit. She saw Coulson take in a breath and grit his teeth as he caught the effects of her movement in his peripheral vision. Natasha fought the urge to lower her arms back to her sides successfully. "You knew this would happen?"
He nodded. "I have sisters who have kids and a strong tendency to overshare. Change into whatever you want to wear. You'll go with Bruce to the park, and Thor will take your place at the hospital."
"Aye," the Asgardian proclaimed, "I would be much more comfortable in my battle garb than in this Midgardian dress."
Natasha was grateful for the switch. She was going to hear enough comments as it was from her teammates; she didn't need the press hounding her for showing up to an event at a children's hospital showing off massive amounts of cleavage. Life as the only woman on the team was challenging enough on the days when the press isn't treating you like a piece of meat. She also didn't want to deal with Tony staring, Clint trying not to stare, and Steve holding his shield in front of her all afternoon to block people from getting an eyeful. And it was times like this, when she felt most uncomfortable, that she realized she'd developed a tendency to drift towards Bruce.
She didn't know why it was exactly, but in the months that they'd come together as a team, there were several occasions where she felt out of balance with her surroundings. And whenever that happened, she found herself drawn to Bruce's lab. She didn't pretend to understand the experiments that he worked on. She just sat quietly on a stool in the corner and soaked in his presence. Maybe it was his mostly calm nature, his taste in classical music, or his ample supply of exotic teas that did the trick, but whatever it was she felt more like herself a couple of hours later than she did before she walked in. They never talked; he would keep at his work and she would watch him move about the lab and fiddle with instruments.
Fifteen minutes later, Natasha was wearing clothes that fit and covered her and she was riding in the backseat of one of Stark's town cars with Bruce to the park. "I think Thor was hoping to smash the ribbon apart with Mjolnir," Bruce quipped. "But I'm sure they'll have a ridiculous pair of oversized scissors on hand for us to use."
"I suppose they wouldn't appreciate me pulling out a knife to do the job, would they?"
"Since the park is being dedicated to peace? Probably not. You want to have the honors?"
"How about I'll take the bottom handle, and you take the top."
He chuckled. "Sounds like a plan to me."
A week and two fights passed. Natasha was up late in her quarters rewatching video recordings of a thwarted AIM attack in the financial district from two days ago. She made notes on how the team worked together, this time with Spider-Woman taking Black Widow's position. For the most part, the team functioned well together. There were a couple of hiccups that were to be expected when throwing someone new who doesn't know how to anticipate others' movements without thinking about it just yet. But that wasn't what was catching Natasha's eye at the moment.
"JARVIS, can you run an analysis on reaction times and compare it to previous battles?"
"Of course, Agent Romanoff," the voice answered from all around her.
"Do so for Captain Rogers." She picked at her nail polish while waiting for the artificial intelligence to confirm what she already expected.
"The Captain's reaction time has been steadily decreasing over the last three weeks, even though it is still in a range superior to average humans."
Natasha looked at the clock. It was a little after midnight and odds were fair that the good Captain would still be awake. "Where is he now?"
"Captain Rogers is currently in the gym."
Natasha paused before making her way out of her quarters. "Is he alone?" She wasn't about to call out their team leader in front of others.
"Indeed. Shall I alert him that you are making these inquiries?"
"No," she answered as she left her floor and made her way down to the gym. The facility was a floor all to itself complete with every piece of exercise equipment you could think of in triplicate at least. This was where they practiced sparring with each other, where they punched things to make themselves feel better, which was apparently what Rogers was doing at the moment.
Natasha took a moment to watch him from the corner of the room. He was taking out his obvious aggression on a heavy bag, and from the amount of sweat that covered his body, he'd been at it a while. She noticed his body tense when she started to examine him, so she gave up any pretense of hiding and walked toward him only to stop about ten feet from his position. She waited silently until he finished his series of punches.
He stared the bag down for a few moments before turning to look at her. "Something I can help you with?"
"You want to tell me what's going on?"
He tried his best to cover up his reaction that was a mixture of surprise and guilt, but wasn't quick enough for Natasha's eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Yes, you do. Your reaction time is getting slower. Is the serum starting to degrade or is something else going on?"
He stalled by moving to the bench where he kept a water bottle. He pulled a long drink from it before removing the tape from his hands. "I've been having dreams," he answered quietly. Natasha didn't move or respond, just waited silently for him to elaborate. "They started after Loki's attack on us."
At that, Natasha' felt her eyebrows knit together. "I thought you said you weren't affected."
He shrugged. "I didn't think I was then."
"Why didn't you tell any of us?"
Steve shook his head. "I didn't think it would affect the team. It's not anything physical; it's not keeping me out of the field like you. It's not something that is constantly plaguing my thoughts like what Tony is dealing with."
"Are you sure about that one?"
Steve sighed and sat on the bench. "No, not anymore. My dreams—they're of what could've been. What life would be like if I hadn't let Buck fall off that train. If I hadn't put the plane down in the ocean. If we'd all survived the war." He hunched his strong frame over and rested his elbows on his thighs. He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes as if the action could erase whatever images his mind was tormenting him with. "At first, things didn't seem so bad. I'd had dreams like that before where we all get to go home and be happy. But these… these are so real. I can smell the food Bucky's mom cooks for us when we make it home. I can taste what it's like to drink from coke a glass bottle again. I can feel Peggy—" he stopped abruptly and shook his head. "It feels real. And every time I fall asleep, it's like something or someone paused my life there and I pick up right where I left off."
"So you've been avoiding sleep?"
He nodded. "I'm starting to become afraid that I'll want to live in that life more than this one. I'm scared I'll never want to get out of bed." He stopped and shook his head. "I'm sorry. I'm sitting here complaining about happy dreams when you're going through what you are."
She shook her head and moved to sit next to him on the bench. "I know what it's like to have times in your life you would be happy to relive. I wouldn't want them to taunt me either. But my point in talking to you about this is when we ask if something is wrong, you need to tell us."
"To be fair, I didn't know anything would be wrong when you last asked."
She rolled her eyes, "Doesn't mean you couldn't have told one of us later."
He shrugged. "It's hard having the title of 'leader' over your head. I don't want you guys to have to worry about me. I don't want to seem," he paused to search for the right words and had a soft smile on his face when he found them, "unfit for duty."
Natasha gave a quick huff of a laugh. "Clint and Stark spent ten minutes arguing over who would get to eat the leftover mashed potatoes for breakfast this morning while Thor went and snuck them out of the fridge right under their noses. I'm pretty sure your position as team leader won't be in jeopardy anytime soon." She took a beat to try and think of something encouraging to say, if only because seeing Steve sad was something even someone as cold as Natasha found to be depressing. "Look at it this way, according to Thor, we have at most a couple more weeks of this, and then everything will be back to normal."
Steve looked at her with a hint of fear in his eyes. "What if it doesn't?"
She didn't want to think about that possibility. Natasha was banking everything she had on Thor's statement, because if it turned out not to be true, she would lose what little sanity she had left. "Then you and I are screwed."