Author's Note: Okay, more angst and darkness for all you nutjobs out there. Get ready for some insanity.

Further Kaydification in progress, please remember that side-effects may include, but are not limited to: growing pains, snarling, growling, scowling, turning green, breathtaking anger management problems and possible ripping of your pants.

This one is for MrsPanda, thanks for your support :)

Chapter 8:

Natasha suffered in silence for three days without speaking to anyone, not even Clint, though she never told him to leave her room. He spent at least seventy-five percent of the last two days laying on the normally empty left side of her bed, and something kept telling her it was alright that he was there. He kept telling her it would just take a few days to wear off. He kept saying that when it did, almost everything would be crystal clear again, and then he had shoved the ridiculously beaten up stuffed lamb into her hands like she was a child. Tony kept his distance and Jarvis had informed her Bruce showed up a few times, though the AI only allowed the scientist entry against her will if it was for medical purposes.

Clint wasn't wrong. Over the three days previous days things had slowly started coming back, then this morning she woke up and it was like the fog had finally lifted. She turned over towards him before she finally rested her head on his shoulder, and it only took his grayish eyes a second to flicker open and shift in her direction before he gave her a smile, "You okay?"

"I don't know," her voice kept its usual neutral tone regardless of the honest answer. It was the first thing she had really bothered to say to him in the last seventy-two hours.

She could feel him studying her and she waited patiently for whatever he would deem appropriate to respond with, "How much do you remember now?"

"A little," she answered without thought. "But also more...more then what I think knew before..."

"More?" the curiosity in Clint's voice was apparent. She didn't answer because she didn't need to, the look that suddenly crossed his face said he understood, "Is it bad?"

The memory of snapping Kseniya Lubovich's neck when she was a mere ten-years-old hung vividly in the forefront of her mind. "Yeah..."

"Nat..." the worry was evident in his tone and she knew that her one word answers weren't helping any, but they seemed to be the only thing she could manage for right now. It was moments like this that made people think there was much more to The Hawk and The Widow than there actually was. "You haven't really talked to me about anything in almost a year, y'know? Talk to me now..." He was right, but she wasn't sure he would like what she had to say, not that he had ever judged her before.

She never moved when he put his other arm around her and tugged her closer, and instead of pulling away, Natasha simply shook her head and hugged that stupid lamb a little tighter. This wasn't supposed to happen to her. She wasn't supposed to end up some pitiful mess who couldn't form a logical sentence of more than three syllables in just as many words. Madame B. had told her that she couldn't be broken. "The veil they fabricated in my mind about how I grew up..." she began with a dangerous edge, "It's shredded now..." She couldn't force herself to make eye contact with him, "I'm more of a monster than I thought..."

The Madame had been wrong, so wrong that it actually physically hurt. "You're not a monster," came her best friend's reassuring voice, "You never were."

But he didn't know and Natasha wasn't sure she could tell him the truth. "You're right..." she agreed softly, and she could feel the surprise that radiated off of him, "I was so much worse." She closed her eyes now and turning away from him as she curled in on herself.

"Come back to the farm."

She had, of course, expected that offer to come from him, and she shook her head, "No."

"You need to be with family-"

"I can't—I can't look at Lila and Cooper." She shoved his hands away when he tried to reach for her, "No, I won't go lie and pretend I can be Auntie Nat, not right now, I can't."

"Nat-"

"I knew him," she said quickly and she effectively stopped whatever Clint might have thought to say next. She didn't shove his hand away this time when it came to rest on her shoulder. "The guy with Strucker, I knew him," it was a vast understatement, but her friend seemed to understand that there was more to it than that, he always understood. "You were sent to kill me because SHIELD thought a rogue, former-KGB assassin, was too dangerous to leave running around without someone reigning them in," she reminded him. "Truth is, I had no idea what was going on."

Natasha felt him sit up almost immediately and she sighed before she sat up too. "How did you not know?" she heard the hesitation in that question.

"I was twenty, I was loyal, and I was their greatest achievement," she admitted, and without having actually answered his question, she hugged her knees to her chest. "So tell me again, Clint. What did you see when you came to kill me?"

He was watching her carefully and she could see it. "I saw something more," came the words he told her a decade ago. "I saw someone who was hurt and lost, someone who wanted to be different, to be more."

She could only shake her head at that, resting her chin atop her knees as she put Sir Lambs-a-lot down. "That's what you saw, and I suppose it wasn't wrong," she admitted. "But it was Niko who did that to me," she explained. "He pulled me out of a session in the chair, when they were in the middle of erasing everything again. He dragged me out of there, half delirious and incapacitated..." and she rubbed at her temples in a pathetic attempt to coerce her headache away.

"And they didn't finish erasing your mind..." came Clint's realization.

Natasha shook her head at that. "Not just that," she admitted. "They have another serum also... but—it doesn't erase the memories. This serum by itself brings memories forward and makes them susceptible to—to manipulation," she explained. The headache was getting worse, "He took it when he took me. It wasn't because he wanted to 'save' me, it was because he knew they were going to get rid of him, and he was going to take their best creation with him."

She could see the realization of her statement dawning on him now, "He was drugging you."

"For two weeks," she answered with a shrug. "That's why—why when you showed up in that motel room ten years ago, I didn't know what to do. The two serums combined at once sort of contradicted each other..." she sighed again and closed her eyes. "I wasn't sure I even wanted to be alive, not with all the things I was remembering, and they were all just so warped and nonsensical... and then you-" she took a deep breath and finally dared to look over at him. It had been a while since Clint wore an impassive expression around her, but he courted one now and she didn't know what to think of it, "You were standing there with that stupid, pathetic bow and arrow, ready to kill me...and I honestly didn't care, I wasn't even sure if you were real or in my head. I might not have gone with you then but—but you were the first person to actually give me a choice."

His face was still serious when he spoke, "Join SHIELD or die?" And at least his voice didn't bare the same mask, his tone came out teasing and it made her feel a little better, "That's not much of a choice, especially now that I realized you were high as a kite."

"It was to me," she added. "It was more than anyone else had ever given me," she pointed out. She could see his face sober up with that comment. "And it took a while, but I—I sort of clung to you after that, because change scared the shit out of me, it still does. So I let you in and I have—I've built my life around you. You and Laura... the kids." She locked her gaze with those forever concerned gray eyes before she glanced away and leaned her head back down on his shoulder, "I can't keep doing that, it's not fair to you."

It broke his mask and he gave her that familiar smile she knew well, "That's not true, Nat." He frowned again though, "Did Fury know about the drugs?" when she nodded she could see the slightly perturbed expression on his face. "Nat, the you I found ten years ago isn't much different from what I've seen the last three days," he reminded her. "Did he use both drugs again?"

"I don't know," she admitted as she rubbed her temples again. "Maybe—but if he did, I doubt he told Strucker. I'm not exactly a useful machine with both drugs in me," she tacked on, "I turn into a disheveled lunatic that can't tell heads from tails, in case it slipped your mind."

"Trust me, it hasn't," he admitted, "You creeped me out when I first met you, at least now I know why." Then he chuckled, "And my arrow isn't pathetic. I've used it well over the years."

Her nose scrunched up in reaction to his sordid humor and she smacked him playfully on the chest, "Shut up." But it made her smile and he actually snorted out a laugh, so she had to give him credit where it was due.

"Well, like it or not, we're family," Clint assured her, and she huffed out a small laugh at that. "So, you're stuck with us, and when you're not okay, you're supposed to let us take care of you."

"I'm not supposed to break..."

Those gray eyes softened a little, "There's a line for everyone, Nat. Yours was just so much farther than any other person's line was to cross, but everyone breaks eventually. I did... after Loki."

Natasha nodded slightly at that, "I know..."

"And you didn't leave me alone with that."

"I know..." She knew where this was going and she stopped him before he could bother, "I'm not saying to leave me alone, Clint. I'm just saying that—that I need time. This whole thing was my fault, because instead of killing Niko, I—I walked away."

"About that," came Clint's interruption. "Why didn't you?"

It was the same question she had been asking herself since he shoved her face into the wall in Samara. "I don't know," she admitted. A few jingling noises caused her eyes to drift to the end table where Clint's laptop sat and she could see a Skype call from Laura appear on the screen.

"It can wait-"

She leveled him with a playful glare, "You better answer it or I'll punch you for her."

He raised a hand in surrender before he pulled the laptop onto the bed in front of them. She watched as he answered the call, but she never bothered to remove her head from his shoulder.

To Natasha's amusement, and Clint's faux frustration, Laura greeted her first, "Natasha! Thank God, are you alright?"

It was funny in a morbid sort of way, because not many people could throw out a sentence where they 'thanked God' while including her name, and actually manage to sound sincere about it. She really didn't think her name should ever be associated with something that was supposed inspire pure and unadulterated belief in a better afterlife, not when she was destined for purgatory. "I will be," she assured her. It seemed to leave Laura speechless for a moment and Natasha realized that it was the first time she admitted to not being okay. She shifted her teal eyes away almost instantly, "I'll go take a walk."

She was off the bed and on her feet as she ignored both of their attempts to get her to return. She only made it about ten feet down the hall when Bruce caught sight of her and an unsettling feeling dredged it's way into her gut.

"Hey..." came his soft voice. She settled her eyes from the floor and onto him, renewing her attempt to bring back her mask of indifference. "You uh—you're out of your room," the comment was so pathetically obvious that she didn't even blink as she stood in place and stared at him. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate the fact he and the Other Guy had saved her life, because she really did, but the awkwardness of how she had clung to him after he pulled her out of the chair just wouldn't go away. Natasha Romanoff didn't cling, just like she didn't break. "Can I take a look at your back?" he questioned next. "To—to make sure that it isn't infected."

"It's not, so no, you can't."

Bruce's brown eyes looked a little somber with the sharpness of her tone and she averted her gaze to the wall. She only narrowly avoided his hesitant reach for a comforting touch when she backed a step away. She could see him fidget awkwardly as he retracted his hand to his side in response to her maneuver for distance, "Um... how's your memory?"

"Fine," she answered curtly. It wasn't until she looked back up at him, at the somewhat wary expression he wore, that the revelation hit her. "It was you..."

He looked more then a little perplexed by her statement, "Me?"

"I couldn't figure it out, these last few days, I couldn't understand..."

"Understand what?" his concerned voice only served to frustrate her. "Natasha..."

The moment rang clear in her head.

"So you just want to kill them?"- "I mean, those two I understand... self defense. But the others? That's murder."

"Murder is sort of my area of expertise, Banner."
"Natasha...stop!" – "You know... maybe you should think about what it means that my other half thinks that's a good idea..."

Bruce's ridiculous lecture to her a few weeks back about killing an unconscious man had been steam-rolling through her mind after she had knocked out Niko Constantin. It had been ridiculous, murder was her bread and butter, it was her life. Murder was what she knew, and yet, suddenly it felt a little foreign to her. Her inability to do the job had gotten her caught, trapped in her childhood nightmare, and it caused her words to drip with a poisonous accusation, "It's your fault..."

The look on his face was one akin to dread, "What did I-"

"I didn't kill him—I..." her voice came out almost strangled and she put her hands to either side of her head. "I didn't...I—I screwed up..."

"Natasha-"

She knew she wasn't making sense and Bruce looked anxious and overwrought with confusion from her rambling. Her head hurt so much and it the words spewed out so quickly that she couldn't control them, "You did this—you—you put that stupid notion in my head!" she groaned out. Everything hurt now. "I should have killed him—I should have...but I didn't..."

"Natasha, you need to calm down," his voice held the attempt to be soothing but instead it only fueled the pain further. "You were doing the right thing-"

Anything else he might have said after that just faded when the memory slammed into her mind.

"This is the right thing, Natalia, for Russia," Madame told her. "You must learn to be the best, this will make you the best." But why was Madame's face missing? The usual blonde, tightly-wound bun, still sat atop her head. Her posture still looked rigid and foreboding and menacing. She had no eyes, no nose, no mouth. Yet, somehow, she still looked of blood and death and torture.

"I don't like the chair, Madame..."

"You are not supposed to like it," the elder woman informed her coldly. "But it will make you strong. It will make you perfect. Your soul will be pure. You want to be strong and perfect and pure, do you not, Natalia? You will be like me." She didn't believe Madame had a soul, that was why she had no face.

"Yes, Madame." Every eight-year-old wanted to be perfect. The girls of Red Room thrived on the thought of perfection, of course, that was if they didn't die for failing to achieve it. She got in the chair of her own accord, though she knew even if she didn't, she would have been forced into it anyways.

"Do not scream, do not cry. You are marble, you cannot be broken, you cannot fail."

"Yes, Madame..." Natalia wasn't sure she herself even had a soul. When she looked in the mirror she saw that same empty face.

"I haven't survived this long by doing the right thing," she hissed out. "It wasn't the right thing," and she was on a warpath that she couldn't control now, "The right thing doesn't get you put into a damned chair that hacks away, and tears, and rips away everything you've ever known!"

"Nat!" Clint's voice was on edge and it dragged her out of her mind, "Nat...let him go."

Let him go? She sucked in a few shaky breaths and her vision started to clear. It took a second before she realized that she had Bruce against the wall with the collar of his shirt clenched in her fists. Her eyes widened a little and she dropped her hands as she quickly backed away. "Shit..." she mumbled out as she stumbled back and fell against the wall opposite of him. "I'm sorry, I'm—I..." she whispered. She pulled her knees to her chest and she couldn't catch her breath, "I didn't mean it..."

Surprisingly, Bruce didn't seem angry at all, or like he was on the verge of changing into the Other guy, instead he just looked grief-stricken, "Natasha... it's alright." About as alright as when she had flipped him onto his back for waking her up from a nightmare. She stiffened when he sat beside her and it was all she could do to not to recoil when Bruce put his arm around her. Jarvis must have alerted all of them, because not only was Clint there, but now Tony and Pepper were in the hallway as well, and all of them looked at her with equally disturbed concern. "It's okay..."

"It's not okay..." she heaved out another breath but instead she was fairly certain she was hyperventilating. "It's not okay—I—I—I..."

"Alright, alright," came Bruce's wary voice. "It doesn't have to be okay, you just need to breathe, Natasha," he told her softly.

The pain seared through her head again and all she really wanted to do was cry, but she knew she wouldn't, she didn't cry, and the drugs were so clearly still in her system.

She was nine when they started the first conditioning training for the girls to endure physical pain. Training that didn't include pain from the chair, or pain from sparring with the other girls in the facility. Natalia was picked to go first, Madame always made her go first. She said it was because she believed she was the only girl in the facility that was meant to be perfect. The Madame's attentions toward her always made the other girls jealous, something Natalia didn't find fair. She hadn't asked for it.

She hadn't asked for any of this.

Nevertheless, she stood on the pavement of the sparring area, and she tried her best to anticipate whatever might happen to her. Nothing prepared her for it. Nothing could prepare any child for it. The man stepped out in front of her, a wooden kendo stick in each of his hands and a moment later, the first one slammed across her face.

She fell to the ground before she could stop it and she could see Madame sigh with disappointment at her failure.

"Get up."

Natalia did, but the second the wooden stick cracked against her gut, and she fell back to the ground.

"Again."

It was already a struggle to get to her feet, but she did it, then another blow from the stick hit her jaw and she tasted the blood.

"This is pathetic, Natalia. Get up, do it again. You will keep doing it until you stay on your feet. You will keep failing if you don't breathe through the pain. You need to breathe."

She never managed to stay on her feet that day, none of the girls did, and the agony lasted for hours. It took a month of it, but Natalia made sure she was the first one not to fall down, she was always the first. She hadn't asked for this, but she was going to be the best at it.

She shook her head vehemently. "I can't break—I can't break..." she didn't even recognize her own voice when she repeated the mantra, "I'm marble, I don't break, I don't fail."

For a second she thought it was Bruce who pulled her up into his arms and she was about ready to struggle. It was bad enough he had just been, in a sense, hugging her. A moment later she realized that she recognized the the arm under her back and the arm under her knees, that they belonged to someone more familiar. She was being carried away by Clint, back into her bedroom, and it was the last thing she really remembered for that day. But it vaguely reminded her of ten years ago.

All she ever did was sit in the chair of the musky hotel room, or sit on the bed, or on the couch. Every time she closed her eyes demons littered her dreams. Demons that wore her face and did things she couldn't fathom as reality. They killed people, they tortured them, they seduced them to their deaths with promises of unending love and pleasure, when reality was, it would be unending hate and pain. Their facade of love and adoration was a pretense to the venom they would pour into their souls.

The man that brought her here, Nikolao, he said it was for her own good. He said he was saving her just like he saved himself. She didn't believe him, not for a single second. This wasn't being saved, this was being tortured through mind games. After the first week the demons didn't even wait until she was asleep. They were all around her, they showed her everything. They showed her what she could do to the man who came through the window with the ridiculous bow and arrow aimed at her. She figured he was just another figment of her drug induced imagination come to life, because honestly, what assassin in their right mind used a bow and arrow?

He looked like a demon, too. The dark blonde, nearly brown hair spiked up and those gray eyes staring fiercely at her. Or maybe he was just here to finally end her torture. That wouldn't be so bad. The words left her lips before he could decide where to place the lethal arrow in her body, "Is it over?"

For a moment he stared at her with his brow ruffled, an attempt to discern what she meant, if she had to hazard a guess. "Your life?" it flowed from his mouth like silk and she cherished the idea that he might put a conclusion to this haze of fact or fiction that had become her life.

All she could do was nod.

The bow lowered just slightly, but not so much that it didn't still carry lethal intent. "Do you want it to be?" came his question, though his tone held no emotion, and she found that comfortingly familiar.

"More then anything." He just stared at her as though she were a liar, and she supposed she actually was, just not this time. The walls weren't screaming, that was a sign, it was her turn. "It is my turn, I am ready."

"How old are you?" came his next question. There was something different in his voice now, something that was quite so cold and empty like before.

She dragged her teal eyes slowly, from the wall and over to him, before she answered, "Twenty." It seemed to change his entire demeanor, though she couldn't discern why that was. "Why does that matter now?"

"Now?"

"It never mattered before," she reminded him.

"How long have you been—doing this?"

Her head tilted to the side as she stared at him and she blinked a few times. "I have always done this, this is my life," she reminded him. Her mind only caught up with his face and uniform a few moments later and her eyes stared in wild realization at who she had just answered to. "You are not them," she spat out as she stood to her feet.

"Them?"

The string of Russian expletives left her lips and he actually looked vaguely amused by her vulgarity. She hadn't stood in so long and it brought a rush of pain to her head. It was agonizing and unending, all she could do was put her hands to either side of her head and further expletives left her mouth, though this time they were in English. Something almost akin to concern seemed to flash over his face when he noticed it was real rather than a false pretense to lower his guard.

"What did they do to you?"

"Everything... it hurts..." Her mouth hung open for a moment as she dropped back into the chair, then she looked back at him in wonder. "You are not real..." she whispered. "If you were real then I would be dead. Too good to be true..."

He looked a little ashamed of that, as though he was attempting to make a decision. "I'm real," but she only shook her head at that and she watched as he stepped towards her and crouched down. The arrow that had been previously notched was now resting with the sharpened tip at her throat as he spoke again, "I should kill you, my job was to kill you." She wasn't sure she comprehended why he hadn't yet, not if he was real. "But you don't need to die... you just need help."

"You have no idea how wrong you are..."

"I don't think I am," he disagreed. "I think you want to be different, I don't think you want—whatever this is," he stated as he motioned around the room with his free hand.

"This is hell..."

"You have a choice here."

"Is that supposed to be funny?" she questioned as she squinted at him. He didn't look like one of her demons. He had a face; a face that wasn't hers.

He frowned at that, "It's not funny at all," he assured her. "Do you want to die, or do you want to try and be better?"

"I do not think there is a difference. I think death is the way for me to be better. You do not see what I see."

"I see someone who seems hurt and lost—I see someone who can be different."

She narrowed her eyes at that and watched the turmoil the demons of her mind played out in a false reality just behind him, all the different ways she could kill him just in this exact moment, "You must not be able to see what I see right now."

"What do you see?"

"I am death."

He looked a little flummoxed by her response, "Then be death for the right reasons."

"Is there such a thing?"

"Only one way you're going to find out," he told her. "So, do you want the arrow? Or do you want a second chance?"

"What good would a second chance do?" she dared to ask, though she wasn't sure if she actually cared or not.

He shrugged at that, "Maybe you can wipe out some red from that ledger of yours."

Natalia supposed it couldn't be any worse than her current hell, "Okay."

"Okay?"

All she could do was nod her head in agreement, because the room had begun to spin in circles, his face spun in circles too, and her vision went black around the edges. She just remembered him barely moving the arrow out of the way in time when she fell forward before he lifted her with ease and carried her out.

Nobody besides Clint tried to come into her room again for another four days, and the person who did finally breach her walls, wasn't the person she actually expected.

"Miss Romanoff, Miss Potts is requesting your permission to enter to your quarters." Natasha arched an eyebrow up at Jarvis' words and she remained quiet in response. "Shall I tell her to come back later?" the AI questioned after her silence ensued for to long.

"You can let her in," she finally relented. She supposed that a week of solitude, Clint and her one explosion with Bruce excluded, was long enough. Maybe the drug really was out of her system now and she wouldn't have to deal with anymore memories surging to life and out of control. She watched as Pepper came into the room, clearly with enough smarts to proceed with caution, and so she waited to hear what the other woman would have to say.

Pepper gave her a soft smile, "Mind if I join you?" Natasha shrugged before she motioned for the other redhead to join her on the couch. "I know, we don't really know each other," she tacked on before she continued any further, "But sometimes that's a little more helpful than someone you actually do know." She supposed it was a legitimate idea. "Anyways, I just thought you could use a little pick me up," and she briefly wondered if Tony's girlfriend was about to give her a bottle of vodka, but instead, Pepper pulled out something even more unexpected.

Natasha arched an eyebrow up immediately when the ridiculously adorable, green and muscly Hulk stuffed animal, was held out to her. It was wearing a damned knight's costume and there was absolutely no control over her response when her the corners of her lips twitched before they curled up into a smile.

"Oh good, I was honestly afraid I was crossing a line here," Pepper admitted with a laugh of relief when she took the Hulk stuffed animal from her.

She couldn't help it, Natasha's shoulders just started to shake from silent laughter and then finally, the actual noise of laughter fell from her lips. "This is..." she paused, trying to snuff the fit of laughter, "This is the funniest thing I've ever seen..." she was laughing even harder now. "Where did you get this?"

"Build-a-bear," Pepper answered with a grin. "Totally worth it."

Natasha was still chuckling a few minutes later and there were actual tears in her eyes. "Shit..." she mumbled out as she rubbed at her eyes. "I don't think I've ever laughed that hard," she admitted with an absurd sniffle and then another chuckle escaped her lips.

At least the other woman looked both thrilled and pleased with the comment and her reaction. "Seemed fitting," she admitted with a smile and a shrug.

She shifted the Hulk stuffed animal around in her hands as she studied it, then a frown formed with her next sobering thought, "You think Bruce will ever see the Other Guy like this?"

"Doubt it," Pepper answered honestly, "But Doctor Banner is pretty pessimistic about most things, not just his angrier half."

"I blamed him..."

But Pepper just shook her head at that, "You didn't mean it."

She was smiling at her again and it only served to make Natasha feel phenomenally worse, "I don't even remember pinning him against the wall—I hurt him." She closed her eyes at that and sighed, "He willingly became the Other Guy in an uncontrolled environment to protect me. Tony could have done it alone, he didn't need to-"

"He wanted to," Pepper cut in.

She ignored it. "And I hurt him..." Natasha could see Pepper's eyes soften, "I didn't deserve that rescue."

"That's not true, what you didn't deserve was what happened to you."

She huffed out a sad laugh at that, "You have no idea how wrong you are, Pepper."

Pepper frowned at that and poked the Hulk stuffed animal, "You're worried that Bruce can't see the Hulk in shining armor," she mentioned, "You can see it in the Hulk, so why can't you see it in yourself?"

"It's different."

"It's not," Pepper disagreed. "It's going to be hard to convince someone else to see a hero in themselves when you can't convince yourself to see your own."

Natasha hesitated at that before she finally responded, "I look in the mirror and I can't see a hero," she admitted as she shifted the Hulk stuffed animal around in her hands again. "I can't see something that isn't there, I can't see something that I wasn't made to be."

Pepper gave her a comforting squeeze on the shoulder, "Maybe that's the problem." She glanced over at the other woman and frowned at that, "Maybe it's time to stop being what someone else made you and start being what you want to make yourself." And the redhead gave a little shrug as she stood up, "Just a little food for thought, I should get back to work, but uh—I'm supposed to let you know, your last blood test came back clear for the drugs. No more funny business."

"Thanks," it was a pathetic attempt at gratitude and she knew it, none of the last week was ever going to just go away simply because the drugs were nonexistent again, but at least now she could deal with it without completely losing control of her emotions. "Aren't you forgetting something?" Natasha questioned as she held up the Hulk toy.

"That was for you," Pepper answered with a knowing smile, "You can hide it with the other one."

Natasha chuckled at that and she laughed just a little harder when she pulled out the ridiculous birth certificate from the back of the cloth armor that read his name as: 'HuggaHulk'. Just what she needed, a damned collection of stuffed animals.

She only hid HuggaHulk for a day. "Jarvis, where is Doctor Banner?" she questioned the AI.

"In the theater room, Miss Romanoff."

"Thanks," she murmured as she left her room with HuggaHulk in tow. It was ridiculous that the stupid little stuffed animal actually made her feel better, but each time she looked at it, she couldn't help but laugh. It only took her a few minutes to get from her room, to the elevator and then finally to the theater room and he was sitting on the couch, watching another black and white movie. "What's this one?" she dared to interrupt.

She watched as Bruce looked back at her in surprise and she could see him attempt a debate in his head on whether or not she was alright without actually asking the question.

"I'm—not okay, but I'm better," she offered up.

It only seemed to add to his surprise, but thankfully, he decided not to push her on the matter. "Great Expectations," he finally answered as he rubbed his shoulder with a sheepish shrug, "You uh—want to watch it?" She did, which she found strange all on it's own, but she wasn't entirely sure it was a good idea. The whole 'go talk to Banner' thing had seemed like a much better idea before she actually found him. Unfortunately, she was saved from speaking when he noticed what was in her hands, and he actually looked dumbfounded at the sight of it, "Wh—what is that?"

Natasha's teal eyes drifted down to her hands before she glanced back over at the bewildered Bruce Banner. The corners of her lips tugged into a smile and she tossed the stuffed animal at him.

Bruce caught it, fumbled it in the air for a moment, then managed to steady it in his grasp before he asked, "Is this—supposed to be the Other Guy?"

"Mmhmm."

It was near impossible not to laugh at the astounded look in Bruce's widened eyes, "Why is it wearing a knight costume?"

"It's HuggaHulk," she informed him with an expressionless tone, though admittedly, she was finding it harder and harder not to laugh at his face. "Knight in shining armor," she expanded on the answer, as though that explained everything that needed to be known about the toy.

"Hu—huggahulk?!" his dumbstruck astonishment was all it took. She completely cracked and she actually hunched over and let out a laugh, one that was even harder than when Pepper had given her the damned stuffed animal. Seeing Bruce hold HuggaHulk in sheer disbelief and horror was one of the funniest moments she had ever experienced.

Apparently the fact that she found it so humorous was enough for him, because she actually saw his face contort a little before he smiled and shook his head, "This is the most absurd thing I've ever seen..." he admitted with a chuckle.

"Has your dementia finally reached the point of sheer lunacy?" came Tony's comment from behind her. She watched him walk in beside her, then his eyes shifted to look to Bruce, and then—HuggaHulk. For just a moment, both his eyebrows rose up and he was speechless...for all of about sixty seconds, "Huh..." he hummed out and she watched Tony walk over and pluck the stuffed animal from Bruce's hands. "That's adorable, he looks just like you. What's his name?" he questioned, then he looked over at her, "Tell me you named this thing Romanoff."

"HuggaHulk."

"Hugga-" Tony stared at her with his lips parted, and then he snickered, "Natasha, you've left me speechless, I didn't know you had it in you."

"It's a miracle," Bruce deadpanned.

Natasha smirked as she plucked the stuffed animal from his grasp, "Hands off my HuggaHulk, Stark." She watched Bruce as he hid his embarrassed face behind his hands and she chuckled before she decided to give him a pass when she saw someone behind Tony, "Besides, Pepper made it."

"I knew this couldn't be your genius," Tony gave a fist pump in reaction, "My woman is brilliant sometimes."

"Your woman?" Natasha questioned as she quirked an eyebrow up.

"Sometimes?" came Pepper's voice.

Tony looked like a kid who got his hand caught in the cookie jar, "Uh—Pepper," he called out as he followed after the woman who stalked down the hall. The last thing Natasha heard was, "Pepper—sweetie—that's not how I meant for that to come out!"

She smirked and gave Bruce a wink.

"That was cold, Natasha," but she could see the amusement in his eyes. It wasn't as though Bruce had warned his best friend that his girlfriend was standing behind him.

"Oh no, that was my genius," she teased before she turned to leave. She didn't have it in her to have a heart to heart just yet, "Raincheck on the movie," she called over her shoulder, and she took HuggaHulk back to her room.

HuggaHulk, HUGGASMASH! xD Needed a little lighthearted moment at the end for Natasha here. Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!