Hi, everybody! Yeah, I know, it's only been a week, but I've already got an update for you! I read through my last chapter and wasn't too (okay, at all) fond of it, but it's already out there, and there's not much I can do about it now. Anyway, I didn't want to leave you guys with a bad taste in your mouths about the story, and I also know that I shouldn't leave a you at a cliffhanger as intense as that one for too long!

Thank you so much for all the follows and especially to all the reviews! I love reading what you guys think! I feel like I'm forgetting something, but it can't be that important, so without further ado, here's the next chapter!

"CLEAR!"

Natasha blinked.

"Okay, start compressions again!"

She stared ahead, her face stone, fixated on the group of men surrounding her Captain.

"We need blood! Now!"

The yelling and around her faded away, and all that was left was the constant ringing in her ears while her eyes were locked on the unbelievable sight in front of her. She registered movement to her right, but she ignored it. She was torn between brooding and grieving, trapped somewhere between the two emotions because Steve was dead. As much as they tried, she knew they couldn't bring him back. She'd seen it in the field dozens of times, and a realist Natasha was.

"WHERE'S THAT ADRENALINE?!"

Her gaze focused on Steve's eyes, desperately hoping to see movement - a flicker, even - despite reality gripping her shoulders and shaking with all of its might. She snapped out of her trance when she realized that someone was speaking to her.

"-eed your blood, Natasha."

Clint.

It was hopeless, and she knew it, but she let Clint take her blood anyway. She didn't know Steve's blood type, but it didn't matter; she was O-negative. Again, she remembered that this didn't matter, either, because Steve was dead. She let herself be ushered to a desk and laid herself flat, eyes now staring up at a blank, boring, white ceiling. She faintly registered the feeling of a needle entering her skin, Clint holding the empty blood bag near the ground so gravity could do its work. Somehow, she knew he was speaking to her in a gentle, kind voice that was unfamiliar to her. She didn't need it, nor did she want it. She was Natasha Romanoff, not a child, and Natasha Romanoff was gone, lost in her thoughts as the constant beeping of the flatline sent her away.

It was Steve and Natasha's first mission together. The objective was simple: gather intel in any means necessary. Much to Steve's dismay, the plan involved Natasha being "kidnapped," a strategy that was so Natasha that Steve shouldn't have been surprised. Much to Natasha's dismay, Steve insisted he be there to watch in case shit hit the fan. She didn't need a babysitter. She could handle herself.

It took the idiots much longer to realize she was a spy than she anticipated. After the first hour of following the men, she expected the target's security to spot her. She wasn't being careful, but she wasn't being too obvious either. After the second hour, when the men, who had by then arrived at a nightclub, still hadn't noticed her, she made her way over to them. She became the temptress that the world expected from the famous Black Widow; apparently, though, her fame was overhyped, as her strikingly beautiful face only rang a bell in one man, who insisted she appeared in some adult films he had seen.

She made an effort to pry into her target's personal business, crossing the line of unacceptable to the point that should have raised suspicions about her curiosity. After the third hour, she began to talk about the Avengers and the attack on New York in hopes that she could spark their memories. After the fourth hour, she had had enough. She violently flipped her now-blonde hair back behind her ear, revealing the earpiece that she had been sporting.

Unbelievably, they still hadn't noticed; she had never come across anyone so incompetent, including the man's security, especially when she was being this obvious. She glanced across the room at Steve, who had somehow found his way into the VIP section - how, Natasha did not know, for she was stunned for a moment - and was being swarmed by beautiful women, clearly having felt uncomfortable in this situation from the very moment they entered the club. Fuck it, she mumbled to herself, and she turned to the her target. She went to scratch behind her ear, purposely causing the earpiece to drop directly in to the man's lap. Natasha feigned surprise, appearing to stammer in confusion that it wasn't hers, and she held back the smile that threatened overtake her because she had them eating out of the palm of her hands.

She found herself cuffed to a metal chair in the center of an industrial warehouse. It was all going according to plan. They were completely spilling the beans to her, and while she had to take a few slaps and punches, she had been anticipating that. She knew it was killing Steve to have to watch this from wherever he was, for the most difficult part of the mission briefing had been convincing him to not intervene until Natasha gave him a signal, no matter what she was being subjected to. She was curious as to where Steve was, as she hadn't expected him - 6 foot 2, 240-pound Steve Rogers who couldn't even speak to a woman - to be stealthy. He was a soldier, not a spy. She was pleasantly surprised that he had been able to evade her discovery, and if she couldn't find him, then she was damn sure these morons wouldn't either.

"You really are beautiful woman," the leader spoke, his thick Russian accent drenching his words in a way that reminded her of her maternal nation. He advanced on her, and the next thing she knew, he was inches from her face, eyes boring into hers. He cracked a grin, a wicked smile bearing crooked, yellowed teeth. "What a pity only one of us will enjoy this," he practically spat, and then his hands were under her dress, reaching forward and feeling, grasping at her undergarments. She had not been expecting this, but it wasn't unfamiliar to her.

Natasha felt the change in air pressure from the shield before she saw it. It collided with the back of her target's neck, and he crumpled like a rag doll, his hand falling out from the bottom of her dress. The rest happened in a flash, as she saw Steve jumped from the rafters fifty feet in the air, landing between two of Natasha's captors and taking them out in one fluid, graceful motion that impressed even Natasha. She could see the fury in his eyes, and he was merciless. Two more men fell, then three, and then four. The only two conscious people left were Natasha and Steve.

He found himself heading toward Natasha in her chair to release her from her cuffs, but Natasha simply brought her arms from behind her back and tossed the handcuffs to the side before he could get there.

"What the Hell is wrong with you?" Natasha snapped at him, clearly irritated by his actions. She advanced forward on him. "You were supposed to wait for my signal! You know how to give orders, but you can't follow them, is that how it is?"

Steve stared back at her in shock and confusion, furrowing his brow. "But-" he opened his mouth to respond to her, but she was already speaking again.

"I can more than handle myself. I know how to take a hit."

"He touched you, Natasha."

"Just because I'm a woman doesn't mean I need your help."

Steve sighed. "I know you don't, but we're a team. I couldn't just sit back and watch him do," he paused, "that to you."

"You don't have to. I can take care of myself," she replied in a deadly, angry tone. On any other regular man - heck, on any of the other Avengers, her use of that tone would have told them to leave it at that, but not Steve.

"Just because you can do it all by yourself doesn't mean you have to." To Steve, it was just that simple.

"Fine."

Any man knows when a woman says "fine," she wants him dead, Steve included, but he knew that if he was going to build any sort of relationship with his teammate, he couldn't just stop because she built a wall around herself. He had to break through; he had to get to her, so he simply lowered himself to the floor and ushered Natasha to join him. She just stared.

"C'mere," he sighed. "Let me take a look at you."

Natasha didn't move.

"Please?"

Something in his voice was comforting and concerning to her, and when she looked into his eyes, she saw a sincerity she had never seen in any man she'd encountered besides Clint. Deciding to give in and trust that his intentions were honest and noble, she cautiously moved herself toward Steve. He pat his hand on the floor next to him, and she slowly lowered herself into a sitting position at his side. When she turned toward him, he began inspecting her injuries, and his rough yet hands grazed over her flesh where there were marks. She wasn't quite sure where he found one, but before she knew it, Steve was placing a bandage over the shallow gash on her jawbone.

"You don't have to shut us out, you know."

Now, she hadn't been expecting that.

"Erm, well, at least me," he added as an afterthought, considering the fact that Tony was probably more preoccupied with cracking jokes than having a serious conversation. "You can trust me, Natasha. I promise. I'm not going to force you or tell you that it needs to happen now, but just know that if you ever need to talk, I'm here. I want you to know that."

Steve offered her a comforting smile, and while she didn't quite reciprocate the gesture, she did give him a nod, and for Steve, that was enough. He hauled himself up, brushed the dust off his pants, and turned around to face Natasha, offering his hand to her. She stared at it, quietly mulling over her options. This wasn't just a hand up; this was a symbol, and she knew that. She looked into Steve's eyes and saw his nobility, his trust in her, and his genuineness. And although Natasha did not need the help, she grasped Steve's hand and allowed herself to be lifted upward anyway.

Natasha was yanked from her daydream by one single beep. Silence. One more beep. She sat up, noticing Clint was gone from her side and standing next to Steve, holding the bag of her blood in the air as a solitary tube led itself into Steve's skin.

"We have a heartbeat!"