The idea for this chapter was inspired by Guest(who reviewed chapter 3 on May 31). Thank you!

"So, what's the update on hot redhead?" Tessa asked.

They were talking in the hospital lobby. Their shifts had ended at the same time that day, so Tessa was waiting for Claire to get her things together before heading out. At that hour, the hospital's usual chaos had died down. The quiet buzz of conversation filled the room, as opposed to the frantic rushing about in the daytime.

Claire hesitated before answering Tessa's question. She wasn't sure whether or not to tell her about her last encounter with Natasha. No one was paying them any attention, but it seemed too personal to tell anyone. She wasn't sure Natasha would appreciate her blabbing all her business to her friends.

She opted for a casual shrug. "Still hot. Still a redhead."

Tessa gave her a sympathetic look. "Is she still avoiding you?"

"Actually, no. She said—"

Tessa's eyebrows shot up. "Wait, you guys talked?"

"Yeah, so I went to her apartment yesterday—"

Tessa waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"Okay, stop. It wasn't like that. It was a neighborly thing."

"A neighborly thing, huh?"

"Oh, shut up." Claire zipped up her bags and stood up, ready to leave.

Tessa glanced towards the exit doors with a concerned frown. "You really shouldn't be walking home by yourself."

"My apartment is barely ten blocks away," Claire told her, pulling on her coat. "I'm not hailing a cab for that."

Claire picked up her bags and followed Tessa out of the big double doors. She stepped into the cold darkness, wrapping her coat tighter around herself. An icy gust of air whipped at her hair. She suppressed a shiver.

"Still. It's late. I should just walk you home."

"You don't need to do that, Tess. Ryan's probably waiting in his car for you." Claire was referring to Tessa's very sweet boyfriend. As nice as he was, he probably wouldn't mind waiting. But she didn't want to inconvenience either of them.

"Better yet— maybe we can drop you off."

"Tess," Claire said, exasperated. "I'll be fine. I've walked home every day since I moved here."

"One of these nights you're going to be mugged."

"I'm not gonna—"

"And then you're going to be thinking, 'Gee, I sure wish I listened to Tessa when she warned me about getting mugged.'"

Claire rolled her eyes. "If I ever do get mugged, you're free to tell me that you told me so."

"Oh, I will."

Claire gave her a quick smile before starting towards her usual route. "Bye, Tess."

"Night, Benson."

Trying to be discreet, Claire glanced over her shoulder and internally groaned.

Yep. There was definitely some sketchy guy following her. She was relatively sure it was a guy, anyway, judging by his lanky figure and baggy clothing.

At that hour, the blocks leading up to her apartment weren't very populated, so his footsteps were easy to pick out. He'd been trailing after her for the last five blocks. Claire had taken four rights, in a circle around the block, just to make sure he was really following her.

Her heart leapt in her chest after the last right turn when she saw him turn the corner after her.

Well, shit.

Claire picked up the pace, because goddamnit, she was not getting mugged today. She'd lived in New York her whole life. She hadn't been mugged once. More so, she refused to give Tessa the satisfaction of giving her that You know I was right look.

She stared straight ahead and speed-walked with a steady determination. She decided against heading towards her apartment. If Stalker Guy saw her enter, he'd know where she lived. Better safe than sorry.

Still walking as fast as she dared, she pulled out her phone. She found Tessa's contact, her finger hovering over the call button. Maybe she could ask Ryan to pick her up. Before she could press it, the footsteps behind her started to increase in frequency.

"Fuck," Claire muttered, looking behind her again. Stalker Guy had definitely gotten closer. He was walking at a pace so fast, it was one step away from a run.

By then, her heart was pounding against her chest so hard that it hurt. She didn't hesitate. She ran like hell.

For a few seconds, there was only the rush of adrenaline and disbelief that this was actually happening— she was really getting chased by a mugger. Claire was fast, but her heavy bags were slowing her down. She thought about dropping them to get away, but all her stuff was in there.

She didn't dare to look back at Stalker Guy. She could still hear the rapid slap of his shoes against the sidewalk, and that was enough for her to know he wasn't letting up. She could tell he was gaining on her. His footsteps were getting closer and closer.

Claire could hardly see in the dark. She didn't know where she was going. The only thing she could focus on was the whirlwind of panic racing through her. She needed to get away.

He was close. Closer. His hand closed around her wrist, and yanked her to the side, hard. Her bags went flying as Claire stumbled, flailing through the air. Her back smacked against the building and she slid to the ground.

Claire screamed, but no one came to her rescue. She could make out a few people on the streets. Some heads turned towards the commotion, but swiveled back immediately, trying to get as far away from the scene as possible. Who could blame them? A sense of hopelessness and dread overcame her.

Claire got back on her feet, trying to get to her bags. Before she could grab them and run again, Stalker Guy took hold of her arm and pushed her into an alley. He reached into his pocket.

A knife came out, the blade glinting in the lamplight. This was no 10 blade that Claire would use in the operating room. It was long— about the size of Claire's forearm— and looked wickedly sharp. By the way he was handling it, Claire guessed he was intending to use it to threaten her. Or on her.

"What do you want?" Claire cried.

As he moved into the light, Claire got a better look at him. He wore baggy clothes that smelled like weed and a beanie that mostly covered his limp hair. Shadows obscured most of his face, but Claire could make out a nasty smile that showed dirty, yellowing teeth, glinting in the faint light.

"Money," he ordered calmly, like he was ordering a meal at a restaurant.

Claire could only stare at him. She was paralyzed with fear.

"Give me your wallet, bitch!" he shouted suddenly, brandishing the knife at her. His calm demeanor was gone. "Now!"

"I… I don't—"

"I know you're a doctor," he snarled, stepping closer. Claire tried pulling away from him, but the heel of her foot only met the brick wall behind her. He had her cornered against it. "Doctors make a lot of money, so don't tell me you don't got no fucking money on you."

Claire found her voice. "I need my bag."

"You don't need no fucking bag!"

"No, my wallet's in the bag." She sounded more confident than she felt. She tried to pretend like the man was a patient. He was from the psychiatric ward, and he'd gotten out of his rooms. He wasn't angry at her. He just had a mental illness.

She pointed at her bag. "If you could let me get it…"

"No! I'll get it."

The moment he turned back to grab it, Claire saw her opening and sprang into action. She pushed him into the wall of the alley, as hard as she could, and booked it out of there. She heard his furious yell behind her, but didn't look back. Her arms pumped by her sides, fueled by panic and adrenaline. Relief flooded her as she realized that she'd gotten away.

And then she tripped.

Some idiot had spilled his drink over the sidewalk. In her hurry, she hadn't noticed how slippery the ground was. Her foot slid forward too fast, and the rest of her body followed. She tumbled down in a heap on the ground.

She was already scrambling to get up, but Stalker Guy had caught up to her.

He grabbed her by the shoulders and slammed her into the wall. Claire's head smacked against the brick, and her vision swam. Fear, anger, and disbelief at her own carelessness caught up to her.

His thumbs were digging into her collarbone, making her wince. He was swearing and yelling at her. Claire tried to struggle out of his hold, but he was stronger than her. In a flurry of buckling limbs, she managed to land a few blows on him and elbow him in the ribs. It only seemed to make him angrier.

"Argh!"

With one hand holding her against the wall, he drew back with his right arm. Claire saw the punch coming, but there was little she could do to stop it except to scream. His fist smashed into her cheekbone, and a long cry was drawn out from Claire's mouth.

Stalker Guy's fist crashed into her face three more times, one in the mouth and one on the cheek again. Her head knocked back against the wall every time. He swore at her with every blow, calling her horrible names. He insulted her mother, her mother's mother, and her mother's mother's mother.

Claire could taste the blood in her mouth, sharp and metallic. She felt a hot wetness on her face, but she wasn't sure if it was blood or tears. Maybe both. She had given up on trying to pull herself out of his grip and was crying uncontrollably at that point.

She didn't have a shred of control left. The reality settled in. No one was coming to get her. She felt utterly helpless and hurt.

"Please stop, please stop," she kept pleading, over and over, like a prayer.

She was so dazed from the pain, it took her a while to realize that Stalker Guy had stopped hitting her. Claire was glad for the sudden reprieve, before she realized why she'd gotten a break. His left hand had gone back to his pocket, returning with the long knife.

At the sight of it, Claire felt a burst of pure, animalistic terror. It cleared away the fear that had been scattering her thoughts. She noticed that he only had one hand holding her down. She could overpower him.

She spat the blood that had been pooling in her mouth directly in his eye. While he yelled and drew back in disgust, she stomped down on his foot with her heel. He yanked his foot back, creating enough space between them for Claire to kick him in the balls.

She was confident she'd succeeded, due to the instantaneous reaction she received. He was bent double, hand over his privates, howling in pain. His knife had clattered to the ground. She felt a rush of satisfaction, but didn't dwell on it.

Claire lunged for the knife while he was still yelling. When he realized what she was aiming to do, he forced himself upright. But the knife was already in her hand. Claire pointed it at his head.

The man froze. They held eye contact for a few tense seconds, both of them breathing heavily.

Claire didn't have a clue what to do from there. She knew her way around a scalpel, but she'd never held a knife as a weapon. She'd taken an oath— and even if that didn't apply to self-defense, she certainly wasn't about to stab this man.

But at least it wasn't in Stalker Guy's hands anymore. He hadn't backed down, but now that Claire had the knife, he seemed wary of her. She wasn't going to run. If she fled, there was a chance he would chase after her, which wouldn't end well considering he was much faster.

"I'm going to keep this," she told Stalker Guy. "And you're going to turn around and leave me alone." She didn't sound very intimidating. She was trembling all over, and her voice was shaking to the point of incomprehension, but the conviction in her words was real.

Stalker Guy didn't look happy about that. "You think you can tell me what to do?"

"No," Claire said, her fear quelling now that she was in control. "But I'm the one with the knife."

Her entire face was throbbing, a reminder of his blows. She could still feel his unclipped nails digging into her skin, even though he was no longer touching her. For a second, she previously imagined herself plunging the knife into his skin, punching him like he'd done to her—

"You ain't gonna stab me, sweetheart."

"Fucking try me," she spat venemously.

"I have a better idea," he growled. "How about you give me back my knife, let me take the money, and I won't beat you up and leave you to the streets."

"I think I like her idea better," someone said from Claire's left.

Claire lowered the knife from Stalker Guy's head. She knew who the speaker was before she turned her head. She hadn't heard footsteps approaching, but she would've recognized that low, husky voice anywhere.

"Natasha?" she breathed, not daring to believe the woman standing before them was anything but a figment of her imagination.

But there she stood. She was wearing workout clothes, her hair tied back in a messy ponytail. Her face shone with a sheen of sweat. She looked like she'd just gone on a run.

"You're bleeding," Natasha said. Her eyes studied Claire's face intently, noticing how bloodied up it was.

A hard, deadly look appeared in her eyes. For a moment, Claire's heart dropped, thinking the anger was directed at her. But Natasha turned to Stalker Guy. Her face was ablaze with cold fury.

A line had appeared between Stalker Guy's brows now that there were two of them. He looked between them with unease. He seemed unsure of whether he should threaten Natasha or hit on her.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked Natasha.

Natasha's hand was on Claire's shoulder. She flinched at the contact, but all Natasha did was gently guide her aside so that she could step in between her and Stalker Guy. Swiftly, with none of the gentleness that she'd shown Claire, she shoved Stalker Guy up against the wall.

Natasha punched him in the mouth. Then in the stomach. Then kicked him in the balls again. Then the blows were coming so fast and with such force that Claire couldn't keep track of them all. She could only watch with a horrified fascination. She felt a little sick to her stomach.

Stalker Guy was barely putting up a fight. Natasha was much smaller than him, but it was clear who the better fighter was. He was trying to shield himself from the blows, but he wasn't doing a very good job. Natasha didn't seem like she was going to stop anytime soon.

Claire took a small step towards them, the knife dangling from her hand. "Natasha," she said slowly.

She paid Claire no attention.

"Natasha!"

Natasha calmly stepped back, letting Stalker Guy crumple to the ground. "Get up," she told him harshly.

Stalker Guy struggled to his feet. His eyes were watering with pain. His face was dark with bruises.

Natasha grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall. "You are not," she said, her voice so soft that Claire needed to lean in to make the words out, "ever going to do that to a person ever again. If you do, I will know. And I won't be so forgiving like I was this time. Understand?"

Stalker Guy nodded quickly.

"I asked you," Natasha said dangerously, stabbing a finger into his chest, "if you understood."

"Y-yes."

"Good." Natasha leaned back. "Now leave."

Stalker Guy didn't need to be told twice. With a look back at the two of them, he bolted down the street. Claire watched as he turned the corner, out of sight.

Natasha's eyes turned to her. Claire flinched back, but the anger in her eyes had melted, replaced with concern. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Claire cleared her throat, which was hoarse from screaming and crying. Her tears had dried on her cheeks. Her eyes were puffy. Claire wasn't sure if it was because of the crying or Stalker Guy's punches.

"Don't lie to me. Where did he hit you?"

Claire sighed. "He punched me in the face a couple of times, that's all."

Natasha reached out to grab her chin. Claire reluctantly let her turn her head side to side, examining her face. She suppressed a shiver as Natasha's finger grazed over the places that Stalker Guy had struck her. For someone who could knock, her touch was light and careful.

She pulled back. "You don't have a concussion. You're bleeding a lot, though. You need to clean this up and put some ice on it."

"I'm the doctor here, remember?" Claire reminded her. "I'm okay. Just angry at myself, I guess."

Natasha's voice was firm. "This isn't your fault, Claire."

Claire shook her head, feeling dangerously close to tears again. Her emotions were all over the place. She didn't trust herself not to cry if she spoke.

"Here. Give me the knife," Natasha said.

Claire hadn't realized she was still holding it. She wordlessly handed it over. It clattered as Natasha tossed it onto the sidewalk.

Claire felt the need to sit down, so she settled herself on the ground. She didn't give a shit about if it was dirty. She just needed a place to rest. She felt a little hungry, so she reached for her—

Wait. Fuck. Her bags.

She stood up again, remembering that her bags were still strewn across the sidewalk, probably waiting to get stolen.

"Fuck," she repeated, then started walking towards the direction her bags were in.

Natasha caught up to her quickly. "Where are you going?"

"To get my bags. I left them over there when the guy was chasing me. All my stuff is in there, and there's bound to be something I can use to help the bleeding."

"I'll come with you."

Under normal circumstances, Claire's pride would have forced her to refuse any kind of help. But she still felt shaky after getting thrown around by Stalker Guy, so she just smiled and tried not to show how relieved she was.

"Thanks for chasing him away," Claire said. "I guess now I know why you needed all those stitches, huh?"

"It looked like you had it handled. I was just speeding up the process."

(It didn't escape Claire's notice that Natasha had avoided addressing the comment about her stitches.)

Claire scoffed, remembering how scared she'd been. "Yeah, right. I didn't know what the fuck to do with that knife."

"I could tell. You were holding it to his head like a gun."

"Are you some kind of knife expert or something?"

"Or something." Natasha glanced at her. "You know, it's not exactly the brightest idea to be taking a stroll by yourself this late at night."

"I know," Claire groaned, "I know. You sound like Tessa."

"Who's Tessa?"

"My friend. She works at New York-Presbytarian, too. She actually told me today—" Claire laughed bitterly. "Well, I guess she was right. I did get mugged. First time for everything."

"I assume you were walking home from the hospital?"

Claire was still in her scrubs. She gestured at herself. "Gee, what gave you that idea?"

"Why don't you call a cab? It's faster and safer."

"Saving money, I guess. Gotta pay off my debts. And the apartment's not that far away. I didn't think I'd ever get mugged." Claire frowned at her. "But you're one to talk. You're out and about at this hour as well."

"I can take care of myself."

Claire remembered how she'd beaten up Stalker Guy and decided to take her word for it. "Where'd you learn to punch like that, anyway?"

"I grew up in a rough area. Sooner or later, you had to learn how to throw a good right hook."

Claire spotted her bags lying on the ground. She ran to them and checked that nothing had been stolen. To her relief, nothing was missing. All of her important papers, medical supplies, Twix bars for emergencies— all there.

"Oh, thank God," she muttered, pulling out a Twix bar. This definitely counted as an emergency. The brightly wrapped gold and red bars never failed to increase her dopamine levels.

"Oh, I see," Natasha said. "This is what you were really worried about."

Claire unwrapped it and took a bite. "Sorry," she said through a mouthful of Twix, "I'm starving. I'd offer you one, but I'm very possessive."

"I mean, I did just save you from a mugging. But by all means, keep your Twix bars to yourself."

"No, you're right," Claire grumbled, pulling out another bar and handing it over. "Here. A Twix for a mugging. Now we're even."

She took another bite, a positively scandalous sound escaping her. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the crunchy, chewy goodness. She moaned again. "Oh my God."

When Claire opened her eyes, Natasha was staring at her with an odd expression. It was gone too fast for Claire to interpret, replaced as quickly as it came with a knowing smirk. "Want me to leave the two of you alone?"

"Just let me enjoy my Twix."

It felt a little awkward just to be standing there, eating candy bars in the dark, so Claire suggested that they sit down somewhere. Natasha carried her bags, despite Claire's objections. They found a staircase of a brownstone that was relatively well-lit. They settled themselves on the steps.

Natasha didn't try to make pointless small talk, which Claire was grateful for. They sat in silence and gorged themselves on Claire's endless supply of Twixes.

Natasha was on her third Twix before she said, "You owe me a soda, by the way."

"Huh?" Claire's mind was lagging, so it took a second for their previous conversation to come to mind. "Oh. But I didn't— did I?"

"You said, 'Sorry, I'm starving. I'd offer you one, but I'm very possessive'"

Claire frowned. She tried to remember exactly what she'd said. It occurred to her that Natasha was probably right. "I can't get anything past you, can I?"

Natasha only smiled.

"Will you accept payment in the form of Twixes?"

Natasha pretended to consider. "I could be persuaded."

"Intriguing. How so?"

Natasha just stared at her. Claire tried not to blush, because apparently that always happened when she was around her. The mood had shifted, from friendly into… something else. For a moment, Claire was convinced that there was something in Natasha's eyes that suggested maybe, just maybe, she wanted what Claire wanted.

"Give me a kiss."

Claire's eyes widened. She had to be dreaming, to hear those words come out of Natasha's mouth. "What?"

Natasha smiled at her playfully. She tapped her cheek, an inch or so away from her mouth. "Right here. Don't be shy, Benson."

Claire's heart was racing, but not because she was being chased by a mugger.

Natasha shrugged nonchalantly. "It's either this or you buy me a soda. Your choice."

Claire leaned forward, just close enough for her to get a whiff of Natasha's perfume. Vanilla. Her lips lingered a millimeter away from Natasha's cheek. She wondered briefly what it would be like to turn her head the slightest bit and press her lips to Natasha's mouth instead. Before she could act on it, she swiftly gave Natasha's cheek a small, innocent peck and settled back on the steps.

Natasha took another Twix. "Consider me persuaded. But only this time, Benson. Next time, you're buying me a Coke."

Claire was still waiting for her pounding heart to slow down. "Agreed." She played with the wrapper of her Twix bar in an effort to appear casual. "You know, it doesn't seem fair that you know both my names and I only know your first."

Natasha met her eyes, but she didn't reveal anything.

"Well?" Claire prodded.

"I'm sorry, was there a question in there?"

"Don't be a smartass."

"How about a compromise?" Natasha suggested. "I'll tell you my last name, and you'll let me put my number in your phone."

This… is the best possible outcome. Trying not to blush, Claire unlocked it and handed it over. Natasha clicked on the contacts app and saved a phone number under her name. Natasha Stratford. She'd added a winky face.

"Does that satisfy your question?"

Claire was sure her stupid grin said it all, but she still responded. "It does."

Thanks to Guest, ArinRomanaff, Khiione, smh204, Guest, liv, and Slither-In-Gryffindor for reviewing chapter 3!

Guest: wow thanks for the long review! I love reading those! Dw, you haven't cursed anything, I'm still alive and updating for now. Claire would def be suspicious but I haven't specifically included a segment on that because I've been focusing on one-shots but you're right. The super secret spy stuff with Natasha is definitely grounds for questioning. And I thought your idea was awesome, so I wrote this chapter based on it! I've never lived in ny, so I've been doing research and stuff. Your feedback was super helpful!

smh204: I agree, I'll take writing domestic stuff over actiony stuff any day. I think the concept of the Avengers interacting with normal ppl is so interesting. Omg I feel bad for those 8 year olds tho. Thanks for your insanely nice review. Have a great day :)

liv: Thanks for loving it! Welll this is rated T for now but maybe there will be an "eventual very schmexy scene" if it gets to that point. Or it'll be heavily implied. YES nat is such a top