A/N: Thank you guys so much for all the positive feedback and for taking your time to read my story!
A special thanks to all that reviewed, of course: Novrier, Shadow the Assassin, Andrewthegreat1, stands-tall-among-shadows and Dark Universe. But most of all I want to thank Andrewthegreat1 because I think that he is the person who makes me want to update faster and his spirit and words are so pure and honest, and not many people are like that nowadays. :) Plus, he is an awesome writer.
Warning: Some characters might seem a little OOC... I am not really proud with this chapter.
Okay, I'm done. Enjoy! :D
I've never been to Russia before. Somehow, I found myself avoiding it whenever someone recommended it, and truth to be told, I had no idea why. Maybe the reasons were the cold whether and snow because I really don't like cold. Or snow.
But that little information wasn't even on my mind as we sneaked into the quinjet and left the S.H.I.E.L.D's headquarters without rising too much fuss, heading towards the cold country to find Natasha. Although I have to say that I had a feeling that Fury knew what our plan was from the very beginning, but still decided to ignore it. That man confuses me every time we meet.
So here we are, each one of us quiet and troubled with his own thoughts. For an untrained eyes, the scene might seem like a peaceful afternoon among colleagues, spent in comfortable silence, but to me, a person who knew how to read people, the truth was all too clear.
I won't bore you with the details of what each one of us did and how we tried to hide the worry and emotions from each other, like they were a weakness.
Yet, that's what they truly are, weaknesses.
When you are young and naïve, emotions around you look so beautiful and intoxicating. You see them every day, you read about them and watch movies that were made about them... yet, you only see the beautiful side, the smiles and laughter, the love and care. Like sunshine and rainbows.
But when you first feel it on your skin, you realize that there is always that dark side, hidden behind the layer of good and magical that is just an illusion. And usually that bad side becomes too much.
It grows darker and stronger, because no matter how much we try to deny it and fight against it, people are cursed with certain emotions like jealousy, envy, hatred, doubt...
We are cursed and too weak to fight those dark emotions, so they become overwhelming. They become too much and they burn us. They burn the heart out of us, leaving us to suffer in silence, with a hole where our heart once was. Well, most of us end up like that.
I know you probably think that it's all bullshit, that I'm lying because you've never seen a person with a hole instead of a heart.
The thing is, we just learned to hide it, and sometimes we hide it so good that even we forget about it.
But it is still there.
Bruce Banner
The ride wasn't that comfortable because no one really paid attention to each other as the quiet humming of the engine filled the space. They all tried to keep their minds occupied with something because other way, they would have to answer their own questions that were either too painful or they just had no answers to them.
Clint, being the only one who is qualified to fly a plane was at the pilot's place, his sharp eyes focused on the sky in front of him as the landscapes changed in front of him. He wasn't driving at top speed, but the itching in his hands to do so was getting bigger with every passing second. But somehow he pushed it back and started thinking of all the thing that he might have done to send Natasha away.
No matter how much he wants to deny it, he knew that there was probably something that he did that hurt her deeply.
He just couldn't see what no matter how hard he tried.
The rest of the team was scattered in the back of the quinjet, occupied with their own stuff. Tony was tracking Natasha on his tablet, as Bruce asked him all too kindly to do so. He could realize why all the fuss was about, because he too cared for Natasha no matter how uninterested he might seem, but he couldn't deny that burning jealousy in his heart that was present the whole time.
He found himself being jealous on the attention she got, and even Clint. But not any attention, because he couldn't care less about Cap or Thor (no offense).
No, it was the attention Bruce was giving them was the cause of that awful feeling.
You see, he always thought that he was the one who truly connected with Bruce. He was always calm about the Hulk, even a little too much, but he trusted Bruce, with his life, because he saved him.
He was really ready to open up to Bruce and trust him completely, which he rarely did because he was hurt too many times to even count them.
That's why it hurt to see Clint, who was one of the agents from the organization that always monitored Bruce, pass through Bruce's defense as easy as he did.
It didn't seem fair.
"Tony, any news?" The voice of the said Doctor snapped him from his thoughts and he glanced up to meet the warm brown eyes and a gentle smile on Bruce's face.
"No. I mean, besides the information we got from Fury, there is nothing I can do. I checked a few cameras in Russia, hacked into them to be precise, but got nothing. She is as stealthy as ever, our little Spider." He brushed his fingers through his hair and then over his face, shielding his eyes from the others as a jolt of pain passed though him, coming from the area around the Arc Reactor.
Great, just what I needed now.
Just as he was about to change the subject, Captain came to his rescue by pure accident.
"Why do you guys think that Furry gave us the information? I mean, it's not like him to be so open for coöperation."
"We wouldn't know, Capsicles. But whatever his reason is, I think that his decision was right. I mean, other way, Legolas here would freak out and probably kill us all."
No matter how teasing his voice was, the others knew that it was nothing but the truth. Clint might seem like a guy who is always joking, who is witty and ready to tease, but there is more to it and after some time spent with him, you see that he really cares.
That's why they all agreed to help him, and their first stop would be the bar where Natasha was meant to meant to meet one of her targets.
"Sir, may I ask you a question."
"Be fast, Agent, I have more reports to write."
"Why did you give them the information about Agent Romanoff's mission?"
He stopped writing the report and lowered the pen quietly before raising his gaze to look into her eyes. She held his cold stare as he hesitated to tell her, but he knew that she wouldn't tell anyone, so why not answer?
"If I was to let Agent Romanoff fulfill her mission, by the time she got back, the team would start falling apart. I want this team to work, too much effort and money was invested in them. They need to solve all their problems in order for this to work, and I am not ready to give up on all the hard work done here."
Silence ensued as he observed Agent Hill and her reaction to his words. He could see slight shock in her eyes at the beginning but soon it was replaced by realization and she nodded shortly before excusing herself and leaving his office.
Once again, he was alone in his office, and it was only then when he whispered the next sentence.
"We can only hope that whatever cause this would be solved without complications."
He picked up his pencil and resumed filling out the reports.
She fixed her skirt and absentmindedly touched the gun that was hidden on her thigh before getting into the character and strolling over to the bar, swaying her hips with every move and drawing the glances of all the men present there, weather they were drunk or sober.
The bar was crowded and filled with smoke, the mold and dust heavy in the air. The waitresses were dashing around, dressed in short dresses and skirts that showed more than they covered and offered drinks with fake smiles on their faces. The customers, mostly men between thirty to fifty, all stank from the alcohol and were starting to act rudely towards everyone, but mostly women.
She only glanced at the interior in front of her before her eyes locked on her target, a small smirk slipping onto her face. A middle-aged man, with dark brown hair covered with a lots of hair gel, a pair of grayish eyes staring at the blond woman working at the bar, practically undressing her in his mind, in a tailored suit and with a glass of expensive scotch with two ice cubes in front of him.
Her mind went over the list of mafia members, and her smirk widened slightly as she realized that she had hit the jackpot.
The man by the bar with that perverted smirk on his face was no one other than Damijen Bagrov, the nephew of the mafia Boss, her most important target. The man by the bar was the third in command in their 'family', after Boss's son, who was most likely to inherit the whole 'family' business.
If she had believed in luck, she would've said that she was the luckiest agent that day when she just bumped into one of her targets, by mere accident.
But Natasha Romanoff doesn't believe in luck.
She licked her lips and glancing at the mirror across her one last time to check out her outfit, she made her way over to the dark-haired man and gracefully sat on the stool next to him, giving him the perfect view of her curves.
After all, he was such a pervert that he would never refuse a woman of her beauty and... other qualities.
And she was right because only two minutes later she could feel his lustful eyes on her figure, and then his deep (and what he probably thought sexy) voice followed.
"Is it possible that a woman of your beauty is all alone on this wonderful evening?" He spoke smoothly, probably because it was one of the lines he used on all girls, but Natasha could noticed the faint Russian accent hidden behind all that smoothness that he tried to show.
It was too easy to get his attention.
"Well, when a woman can't find a real man, her only choice is to stay alone, don't you think?" She threw him a teasing smile and looked up at him, letting him see her eyes that were now filled with curiosity and mischief. Just enough to intrigue him.
"Than we need to fix that. Can I buy you a drink?"
"I can't see why not." She smiled warmly at him, shifting a little closer to him and lightly brushed her finger over his forearm as she pretended to reach for the snacks that were to his left. It did its trick.
"What does the lady drink?"
"Martini. Martini with two olives."
She observed him as he leaned forwards to order the drink, and it that moment her gaze moved across the room, pointing out all of his people who were there if something happens to their young 'Boss'.
Then, in that crowd of men, she noticed the familiar blue eyes and she froze. Her lips parted slightly and his name was at the tip of her tongue, but thankfully no sound left her mouth before she managed to compose herself and put on the mask.
Still, on the inside, she was close to freaking out.
He shouldn't be here.
Her eyes moved over the room and in the next few seconds, she managed to point out each one of them (except for the loud blond, thank God) and her hands started shaking slightly as she realized that her plan will need some changing. Because judging by the look in her teammate's eyes, he wants to talk to her.
Even though she didn't want to talk to him.
"Is everything okay?" Her target asked, noticing her tense posture and sharp eyes that were calculating her next move.
She knew that she needed to get out of that bar as soon as possible or else the whole mission will fail, and that was not an option.
"... I am fine. I just need to fix my make-up. I'll be back in a minute." She smiled a fake smile and slipped from the stool, placing a small kiss on her targets cheek. Using that moment of his confusion, she headed to the bathroom, pushing through the crowd of drunk men and half-naked women.
When she was only a few feet from the restroom, and when she could feel each one of her teammates moving towards her, she started walking a little faster.
Her heels clicked as she speed up, moving graciously through the crowd and jumping over the fallen chairs and broken bottles. She was so close to the exit, and once she's out, she can start running.
Maybe Natasha Romanoff wasn't a person who ran away from her problems, but in that moment, it seemed like the only choice she had.
She finally reached the door and stepped out, being greeted by the sharp, cold wind, and as she was about to break into the run, a desperate shout, coming from behind her, made her stop in her tracks.
"Natasha, wait!"