Chapter 7

Bad News

"He that hath wife and children hath given hostages to fortune; for they are impediments to great enterprises, either of virtue or mischief."

-Francis Bacon

Bruce jerked awake and groaned softly, wondering how long he had been asleep. He glanced at the clock – it read 5:21. The screens had all automatically dimmed, and Bruce cleared his throat and spoke to the AI.

"JARVIS, could you turn on the systems and get them up to speed?" He rubbed a hand over his face. "I need to review this data really quickly."

"Of course, sir," JARVIS responded, and the screens flickered on, bringing Bruce back to the microworld in which he was immersed when he must have finally crashed. He sighed, and for the tenth time, viewed the results. Bruce had to admit he was a little intimidated at the data that had emerged from his simple blood samples.

"JARVIS," he said, rising from his rolling stool, and giving it a gentle push across the lab floor, "-tell me who is awake right now. Anyone?"

"Mr. Stark is, although Ms. Potts is not yet awake. Thor, Captain Rogers, and Agent Romanov are asleep and Agent Barton's signal is coming from the roof, but it is not clear what he is doing up there."

"Thank you," Bruce said, a little distractedly, running his hands through his thick brown hair, and ignoring the overwhelmed feelings that he was beginning to realize were the same as those that he felt when they were thawing and reviving a man who had been frozen in the North Atlantic sea for seventy years.

This kind of stress is not what you need, old man, he told himself. "JARVIS, please let me know when Agent Romanov is awake. Don't tell her that I need anything, just let me know."

"Understood," the automatic voice confirmed. Bruce exited the lab, wondering subconsciously what on earth would happen if Tony were to waltz in there for any reason and see the blood tests. As annoying and immature as Tony could be, he was smart. Genius, actually, and he didn't have to be a medical doctor, having mastered thermonuclear astrophysics overnight (unless that was just a joke, which Banner didn't happen to believe it was) to see what Banner saw. He'd worked in the lab with Tony. And if he could just get over his obsession with freeze-dried space food any time he was in the air and stop making off-color comments at awkward moments, Bruce might actually have liked him quite a bit. Correction: Bruce still did like him quite a bit. They had immense mutual respect for each others work, and privately enjoyed being referred to as the mad scientists or the Science Bros.

"Doctor Banner, you wished me to notify you that Agent Romanov is now awake," the trim British accent of the AI announced.

"Great. Where is she now?"

"She is in her room, sir."

"Thanks, JARVIS. Please let her know that I need to speak with her privately before she moves on with her day."

"Right away, sir," JARVIS replied. Bruce entered the elevator and pressed the correct button, feeling the lift drop farther down the tower with each passing second. It slowed and came to a stop, the doors opening with a ding.

Bruce stepped out of the elevator, the doors closing behind him, and crossed his arms across his chest, looking at the ground for a moment while he collected himself. Though Agent Romanov had already seen his worst side in a private showing, he still felt bad being the one to witness her so vulnerable. But it had to be done.

Natasha heard the prompts of JARVIS, and was at her door, stepping out into the hallway, and greeting Banner.

"Hello, Bruce," she said. "Bright and early, huh."

"Yeah," he grimaced. "I slept a little though."

"What's going on?" She pursed her mouth and and crossed her arms. "Get my blood sorted out?"

"Kinda," he replied awkwardly, and then gestured, "Let's step into your room, Natasha."

Beginning to be worried by his manner, Natasha did so, and shut the door behind him.

"Do you want to sit down –" she began, but Bruce passed a hand over his face and shook his head.

"No, no, I'm fine, but you'd better sit."

"Bruce, what are you talking about –" she demanded. "You're scaring me to death. What did you find out? Was he drugged or something? Was I drugged?"

Bruce decided to get it over with, a pained expression on his face. "Natasha –" he met her eyes, and laced his fingers together. "A lot of different stuff showed up in your blood work. Some normal stuff, but mostly stuff I'd never seen before. You've gotta realize this is not my area of expertise. I'm a gamma radiation geek, not an OBGYN."

Her face grew still, and Bruce realized he'd blown it, just like with Steve. He shut his eyes. "Natasha – you're pregnant."

She froze for a moment, and then sat down hard on the bed. There was a long period of silence, and then denial set in. "What?" she breathed. "No... no. No, no, no! That is not even possible, Bruce, I was sterilized in Russia." Her eyes were wild. " I've had so many blows and stabs to the stomach who knows if I can even – no! That's impossible, you're wrong. You made a mistake –"

Bruce was shaking his head. "It's absolutely positive," he said softly. "I'm so sorry."

Natasha sat in silence, her brain numbly groping to understand why it was so important that she come up with an excuse to prove him wrong. He must be wrong.

"How can you even tell? It just happened, give it a freakin' break to get out of my system before you go making assumptions like that... You said yourself this is not your area of expertise– "

"Natasha." Bruce bent over her, his eyes meeting hers. "Do you want me to take it down to the lab and show it to you and explain it all?" She shut her eyes and shook her head. "Listen, I'm sorry this had to happen to you." A tiny tear seeped out from beneath her lashes and dripped quickly down her cheek, and Bruce's heart ached for her. "I don't know what to suggest except to contact Director Fury and update him so he can send you undercover for a while."

"Undercover?" she managed, opening her eyes. Her pupils were dilated, and Bruce didn't like that one bit. He poured her a cup of water, but she pushed it away.

"Really," he said, trying to put it into her hand, but she said weakly, "You want a broken wrist, Bruce? Didn't think so."

He sighed and set the cup on the top of the dresser. "I can contact him if you want."

"I can do it."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

He sat next to her on the bed for a long time, and just let her stare off into space and come to terms with the ground-shaking information he just dumped on her.

At last she murmured, "I don't have to go undercover. I'll just terminate it."

Bruce shook his head. "Don't try to figure everything out before I leave the room. It doesn't work out well if you try that, I promise. You know where to find me if you need anything – right now I bet you want to be alone for a bit."

"Sure," she whispered, and without another word, Bruce quietly left the room.