Natasha knew she was yelling, knew it but could barely acknowledge it. There were no words for the pain, it was thick and fast and worse than any gunshot she had ever experienced. It had to be soon, she prayed it was soon. There was pressure now, pushing down on her back and her lower stomach down to her groin.
She heard the ripping of a packet near her head and looked to see Bruce opening Sterile gloves and gown. He was ready, her body was ready but she wasn't sure that her mind was on board.
The pain was so much, and this wasn't the worst of it. That, and it kept coming back to her that this was too soon, it wasn't supposed to happen now. The little guy wasn't ready, he couldn't be ready it was impossible.
"Natasha," Doctor Banner spoke, trying to sound calm although she knew better.
"It's time, you're fully dilated. It's time to push."
She felt herself panicking but knew that she had to pretend she wasn't. God, she cared about this little thing even though she wanted nothing to do with it after this day. She had known from the beginning, Steve would raise the baby, it would be his son and would know nothing about her part in it all. She was the incubator, that was all. That was all she wanted and all she could handle. Kids, her past, they didn't go together.
Natasha went with his instructions, letting the pain rise to its peak and follow the urges of her body, She pushed down against the infant, pressing every bit of energy she had left into giving birth. She gritted her teeth, squeezing the bed rail hard until she felt Bruce's gloved hand replace it.
"That's it, Natasha, keep it going keep it going!"
She flopped back again, her head reaching the pillow as the pain and urge left her body. It burned, everything burned but the energy was gone. She barely had a minute before the pain rose once again.
"Again Natasha, big push. Keep it going as long as you can."
Again she tried, squeezing and tensing every muscle to help fight the burning pain.
She heard herself scream, a noise she hadn't heard since she was perhaps eight years old. She had never been allowed to be vulnerable but this, this was the hardest thing she had ever done.
"That's it, Nat, you're almost there, I can see the head." Bruce was coaxing her but the words were barely heard. She tried again, and again and finally the blissful words she needed desperately,
"The head's born! One more big push."
And then it was done, the burning released, there was a rush of more fluid and Bruce bundled something into his arms. It didn't cry. It had been too soon, Natasha knew it had been too soon. He was too small but Bruce Smiled.
Then there was a wail. A strong, guttural wail. Bruce Laughed, Natasha smiled, laying back against the pillow, catching her breath.
"Natasha, he's huge. I mean, he's ok, he looks like a full-term child -." Before the Doctor could finish his sentence there was a knock on the door. Steve entered, he looked at the scene in front of him, his face falling when he saw the blood-soaked floor, saw Natasha pale and weak and then he saw Bruce, saw the baby.
Steve's expression changed rapidly from surprise to join to quizzical.
"He looks," Steve began but was cut off.
"He looks healthy. I think I understand, Natasha was measuring big for dates, he was premature but is health. I think the serum in you – in both of you – has made him grow at a faster rate. He was ready to be born three months earlier. He is typical and healthy."
"And he is a boy." Steve laughed, Bruce, clapping a hand to his mouth, realising he had spoiled it.
Bruce glanced at her, another silent question but Natasha shook her head. If she didn't see him now then she would bond less and she would not replace the image in her mind of another newborn, an image which she wanted to treasure forever. She would watch this baby grow, she would see him change. She didn't want to be his mother but she was glad he was here, glad he was safe and glad he would be loved.
Steve took the scissors from the Doctor, snipping as instructed to detach mother and baby before the infant, still bloody and wrapped in a towel, into his arms. There were tears in his eyes, and Natasha found tears in her eyes also. He was here, he was safe so unlike many of their friends.
Steve had already decided on his name if he had been a girl his name was Margaret Wanda, as a boy he was James Carter Rogers. Named after the fallen soldier who was really gone this time.
Perhaps he would be what he was born to, perhaps he would protect the world in the absence of his parents. Perhaps before then She and the other remaining Avengers would find a way to fix everything, perhaps there was a way to bring down Thanos, to protect the universe from any more death and destruction. It was their job, their duty and, despite not being cut out for Motherhood, avenging, that was something Natasha was born to do.