A/N: Since the last five chapters were focused almost exclusively on Steve & Nat, this one involves a bit of the other Avengers' perspectives on the whole situation.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. All rights to Marvel Cinematic Universe, etc.
Chapter 13
HOLD IT TOGETHER
"One of the toughest experiences to go through, is to be someone's strength while you're at your weakest." - N. Panwar
1
Bruce Banner fixed the glasses on his nose as he checked his calculations for the final time. He was sitting at his desk, on the -4 level of Avenger's medical facility, the only other visitor being Natasha. The spy was shifting in her chair impatiently, looking at the scientist intently.
"You sure about this? He could wait a day or two until we find someone else. I could run a few more tests, you know." Bruce asked though he already knew the answer.
Natasha's lips pursed into a thin line before she answered. "Just do it, already, okay?"
He nodded and began the procedure. The spy watched as crimson liquid circulated through a network of transparent tubes until it disappeared inside a large plastic container signed with NATASHA ROMANOFF 0Rh(-) and marked by big capital letters TOP PRIORITY.
During their last semi-successful mission Steve lost a lot more blood than they originally thought, not to mention the fact he was wounded with a poisoned adamantium blade. Now, four days later, his system was still fighting the toxin which would be impossible without Erskine's serum, otherwise he'd be dead before they even reached NYC. One way or another the soldier was in dire need of a transfusion. Bruce just didn't want to tell Natasha it should be done rather quickly and the two days of waiting he mentioned earlier was an act of walking on thin ice. Dangerously thin ice.
As soon as they arrived at S.H.I.E.L.D.'s headquarters, Steve and Sharon were immediately transported to an intensive care unit by a true battalion of paramedics and other specialists. Meanwhile Bruce ran some quick lab tests on himself, the Avengers and a couple of other trusted agents (Maria Hill, Bobby Morse, Nick Fury to name a few) in order to find a possible donor. Steve had a rare blood type even before being injected with the serum and funny enough - the results weren't overly promising.
The first one to be excluded was Thor which shouldn't be surprising. His asgardian blood turned out to be completely incompatible with that of a mortal, be it super-soldier or not. Bruce along with Clint and Tony had different types so naturally they couldn't be giving any. That left Natasha as the final candidate and to everyone's relief - she was Steve's counterpart in terms of blood group. More or less.
Sole process of extraction wasn't overly complicated, Bruce had done it more than once, but there was something else which required their special attention. The challenging goal was to retain as much serum in Steve's system as possible until its reserves could be replenished through natural means. Nobody knew how long it would take but a longer stay in hospital was awaiting him either way and the scientist didn't want to add any more to that.
Banner's transfusion machinery was capable of recycling the majority of the precious substance, mixing it with Natasha's blood so it could be later pumped back into the soldier's circulation. It was only a prototype though and the scientist preferred to keep it at the Avengers HQ where he could perform additional calculations or repairs. That's why the blood had to be transported to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s medical facility afterwards, prolonging the therapy.
"Alright, that's enough for now." Bruce said when the amount extracted reached 450 milliliters. One unit.
"But he needs more."
Banner shook his head. "I can't just draw a litre out of you, Natasha. You'd join him at the hospital and I don't think you'd like it there. We'll wait a month before the second transfusion. Sounds good?"
"Not quite, but let me guess, there's no other way?"
He gave her a half-smile. "Nope. Now before you go, eat this."
"Bruce, I'm okay, I don't need…"
"And I'm your doctor so please don't argue, Natasha." Banner said surprisingly firmly, making her stay and eat the chocolate bar. He saw all too many times how other agents fainted after the procedure. They weren't in the wake of the battle where adrenaline let soldiers with detached limbs run a mile. It had nothing to do with being tough or not.
She casted him an annoyed look but deep down knew this was a pointless argument and Bruce had a point all along. "I'm sorry, I'm just really worried about him."
"I can tell. He's been through worse." Banner replied in a reassuring tone. "Remember that heart wound?"
A flash of fear rushed through her features. "You don't forget such things."
"No-one could have survived it but he did, Natasha."
"Well, you could." She noted, trying not to think about Steve's previous near-death experience. He's had these way too many for her liking and he'd run out of luck one day.
"I didn't count green rage monsters as Tony likes to put it."
"Touché."
The silence between them stretched for a while longer. Natasha munched on the sweet treat while Bruce organised the documents on his computer, both of them deep in their own thoughts and doubts.
"You're close to each other, aren't you?"
The redhead raised her sight only to meet his watchful gaze behind a pair of rectangular glasses. The question surprised her but Natasha kept it emotionless even though there wasn't really a good reason to hide it. The spy liked and trusted Banner with her own life but she guessed she just wasn't ready to acknowledge her feelings for the soldier out loud. Those desperate three words spoken in the cabin didn't count, besides the soldier couldn't have remembered them… could he?
"Was it really that obvious?" She asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.
"Not exactly. You just smile a lot more than usual, especially when he's around. " Banner answered with a sad smile. The redhead couldn't have known that their conversation reminded him of someone whom he held close to his heart a long time ago but could never be with, courtesy of his alter-ego.
These words should have made her smile at least, but Natasha felt completely opposite. If something went wrong her reason for more frequent smiles, as Banner put it, would not survive the next week. This thought was killing her from the inside.
"Thanks, Bruce." She said, giving him a light kiss on the cheek. "Can we go now?"
"Have you eaten both of your chocolate bars?"
Her brows went up. "There is another?"
2
The following weeks were stressful as hell to say the least. Bruce managed to find - not without great difficulties - one more donor who was willing to give their blood to Steve so Natasha didn't have to undergo any more procedures, at least not in the nearest future. She didn't surrender without a fight though and had to be removed from Banner's office by force when he rejected her offer of donating more.
This whole time Steve remained in a coma which according to dr Mitchell, could be a routine defence mechanism of his enhanced organism. This state would allow his body to slow its metabolic rate, usually much higher than that of a normal person, making the toxin less detrimental to vital organs. Of course there was only one super-soldier they could conduct their studies on, so this was a mere theory rather than a full-fledged conclusion. It wasn't the first time Steve ended up unconscious for so long.
The only question which bugged Natasha was when would he wake up?
She has been visiting him for the past couple of days, staying up late and whispering words of comfort, even though she had no idea whether he actually heard anything. He definitely didn't remember one particularly scary night when there was no-one on the ward except for her and a lone doctor on duty.
It was shortly after Steve was readmitted to his room in the western wing of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s medical facility. Natasha sat beside him, as was her habit, with a book he said he wanted to catch up on between missions. She convinced herself Steve couldn't be left alone, coma or not, so she spent her free time reading out loud to him. The redhead already got used to this kind of interaction when everything went to hell in a matter of minutes.
The night it happened, her voice dissolved in the stillness of his room as always, interrupted only by steady beeping of the cardiac monitor. She closed the book and settled it on Steve's bed. The redhead tried to believe some part of him was able to understand what she was going to say to him, but it was hard. So damn hard.
The spy stood up and sat closer to him, making sure not to detach any of the countless tubes connected to his system. Natasha fixed her gaze on his face and whispered into his ear what was on her mind since the cabin in the woods.
"I… you probably can't hear me, Steve, but I must tell you… something important. I need to get it out just like you did. Maybe… maybe it's better you can't answer because I don't know if I'd be able to go through with it if you could." Natasha stammered for a second, scolding herself for her inability to express emotions like a normal person. Then again she couldn't have been further from normal. "You mean the world to me, Steve. I need you and I- just don't leave me please, because I… I..." The redhead tried to finish but was unable to. She felt tears rolling down her cheeks.
Between quiet sobs, she leaned over and claimed his motionless lips with her wet ones. The kiss was one-sided, stretched, full of yearning which burned inside her for so long. It didn't bring her the relief she sought. Then something bad happened, something which lowered the temperature in the room to zero in a blink of an eye.
Steve's muscles flexed, suddenly and forcefully, so hard in fact that the spy could have sworn she heard them snapping. The soldier's eyes remained closed but his face contorted into pain. He began to thrash violently, his limbs twitching and hitting random objects around. He went into an unstable rhythm as the cardiac monitor beeped faster and faster.
Natasha pressed the button to call the doctor in but Steve still managed to make quite a mess. He knocked down the nightstand, the IVs pole and grazed his knuckles badly in the process… but not before his arm hit Natasha square in the face. She was so shocked by the whole ordeal that she didn't even feel the pain when she fell to the ground. The unpleasant coldness of the floor tiles sobered her up though.
The doctor stormed in at the same moment, shooting her a worried look but he decided the priority was to neutralize the soldier first so he wouldn't do any more harm to himself - or others. A needle with sedative went into Steve's neck halting his abrupt movements mere thirty seconds after the injection.
"Are you alright, Miss?" The doctor offered Natasha a hand but she declined his help. It wasn't the face that hurt her the most. She stood up, casting a painful look towards the man she loved.
As soon as she got outside she felt her cheeks dampening with fresh tears.
3
Clint Barton lifted a mug of hot tea to his mouth, reading what he had just produced. Retirement or not, the archer had to fill in mission reports from time to time and just like everyone else he couldn't force himself to do it unless the deadline was imminent. Barton checked his watch and decided that two pages of neatly written text should satisfy Fury and whoever was reading those boring pieces of crap.
Just as he closed the laptop, he heard loud banging on the door. Clint turned his head with surprise. No-one knew about his temporary apartment in NYC apart from Fury and Coulson. Not even his family was aware of his current location. Who could possibly be trying to get in this late at night?
The archer pulled out a combat knife he always had on him, securing it in a reverse grip. One could think his well-deserved fame as marksman meant he used only one type of weapons but this was far from the truth. Barton was just as skilled with blades as with bows, even though he used the former rarely, opting to eliminate his targets from afar. Now, however, in the cramped space of the apartment the knife gave him a much bigger advantage. The knocking intensified.
The archer slowly approached the source of the noise. Annoyingly enough, there was no peephole so he was forced to crack the door open but the moment he did so he knew his suspicions were unjustified.
Natasha Romanoff looked awful. Baggy black sweatshirt with matching pants have seen better days, her hair was a complete mess. The redhead's eyes were puffy with massive dark rings under them, an obvious sign she cried for a long time and didn't sleep well recently. On top of that the left half of her face was swollen.
"Natasha? What the hell happened?" Barton asked worriedly when she jumped inside his apartment as if someone was chasing her.
He checked the corridor and the stairwell but there was no-one in sight. Barton got back inside, locking the door carefully. "Are you injured? Someone's following you?"
The spy shook her head sharply, but her demeanor showed she must've witnessed something distressing to say the least. Clint watched as she sat on his couch, drawing her knees up to her chin. This was more than unusual and Barton couldn't help an awful feeling that someone did hurt Natasha after all.
"What's wrong, Nat?" Barton questioned again, plumping down beside her. If someone was to get the information out of her it could only be him, her best friend and secret bearer. He saw she was going to say something but instead she just snuggled to his side. The archer hugged her gently and kissed the redhead's forehead. "Shh, shh, it's gonna be okay. Breath."
They sat there until after midnight, waiting for her sobbing to die down.
"What happened to your eye?" Barton lifted her chin to see the already forming bruise. When he touched her cheekbone she hissed with pain. "Who did this?"
Natasha closed her eyes because she knew what would follow if she uttered this one word which brought her both pain and joy. She sighed, bracing for the impact. "Steve."
Clint's expression slowly contorted into cold fury. He was dead-serious. "I told him I'd kill him if he ever hurt you again. "
"What? No, it's not like that..." She started but the archer interrupted her quickly.
"He hit you, didn't he? I didn't know he was awake but he'll regret this all the same, I can promise you that."
Natasha kicked herself mentally. She wouldn't have to listen to this rant had she told him it was an accident right from the start. "Clint, calm down. Steve's still in a coma."
"Huh?" Barton's anger evaporated in an instant just as she predicted. How did the soldier manage to do this to her if he was lying unconscious in hospital?
"I said, he's still in a coma. He went into some kind of epileptic fit, probably because of the poison. It was an accident. He couldn't have controlled it." She finished quickly, watching as her friend's features softened.
Once Steve had to deal with a serious case of depression and PTSD, now he had to fight a toxin which could make him not recognize the friends around him… working for S.H.I.E.L.D. has never been more risky even when HYDRA was fully operational.
Clint shook his head, ashamed of his harsh words. "I'm sorry... I overreacted."
"Wouldn't be the first time." The redhead mumbled quietly, earning a chuckle.
"I'm your big brother so it's only fair if I get a bit overprotective from time to time." Barton replied, relieved to see how the corners of her mouth tugged in a faintest of smiles. He touched her cheek gently to determine if the bone was broken but it seemed the spy would be okay. "I'll get you some ice. You look awful."
"Thanks."
Barton smirked under his breath as he grabbed an ice pack from the refrigerator and wrapped it in a clean dish cloth. He handed her the cold compress which she pressed against her swollen cheek.
"Oh, that's nice." Natasha muttered to herself. As soon as he joined her on the sofa she moved closer again.
"Hey, since when you're the cuddly one?" Clint joked earning a glare that would kill if only the spy had such power. He was the only one whom she'd treat with any kind of affection. Well him and Steve.
The Red Room conditioning methods against emotional attachment were still strongly rooted somewhere inside Natasha's head. She was opening to people more and more in recent times, though, and Barton took it as a good sign.
He didn't rush her. All in due time.
"I don't know what to do, Clint. I… I… care about him Steve. But it kills me to see him in such a state." She said, fixing her gaze somewhere outside the window. "I dunno if I want this kind of pain."
"Completely understandable. I'd also be a bundle of nerves if Laura ended up in a hospital. There is nothing you should be ashamed of." Clint reassured her. "You should tell him yourself.
"What if he doesn't wake up? What will we do?" The redhead asked blankly. What will she do if Steve remains an unresponsive body chained to the hospital bed for the rest of his days?
"Hey, Nat, look at me."
She lingered before complying with his plea.
"Steve's gonna be okay, he's in good hands now. He was right in not letting you fight Wasilewska."
"Don't tell me you're on his side."
"I would do it myself. Wasilewska is an animal, I've seen it firsthand, Nat. If you got to fight her you'd be lying in a hospital bed now and that's the optimistic version. I know how it sounds but I'm glad it was Steve who got injured." Clint said honestly, observing how Natasha's eyes widened with surprise. "That bastard survived a plane crash and seventy years in ice. He'll manage a poisoned blade. Give it time."
Natasha shook her head. "You're nuts, Barton. Has anybody told you before?"
"You did. On many occasions." Clint gave her a lopsided smile to which she stuck her tongue out. "Hey, that wasn't so nice."
"You're lucky I like you." She checked her phone. "Damn, it's late. I better get going."
"Don't you wanna stay overnight? You shouldn't be driving home in this… state."
"I'm not fifteen, dumbass, I can handle my emotional problems." She checked the time again so as to hide how much of a lie it was. As expected Barton saw right through her.
"The hell you can. Stay here."
"Clint, I really need-"
"No, you don't. Wait here."
He rummaged through kitchen closets until he found a small, black package. "Bingo."
His mother always said: "If you're nervous, there is nothing better than a hot mug of cocoa." and that was exactly what Natasha needed right now. Barton glanced at the spy who still had a grumpy expression. Normally no-one would dare to tell her what to do, but for some reason she listened to him and remained in her seat. Deep down Clint knew she didn't want to be alone and her huffing was a show-off, nothing more.
"Here you go." He said, handing her a mug of steaming dark brew. The archer put three sugar cubes inside just the way she liked.
The redhead nodded, grasping the cup with both of her hands. They were still shaking, so Clint covered them with his own, locking his sight with Natasha's.
"Nat. He's gonna be alright. Got it?"
She looked into her best friend's eyes and saw the certainty she couldn't find herself. Looked like she had no choice but to trust the archer on this one.
"Now, you wanna watch something or call it a day?" Clint decided she had enough brooding for today and changed the subject, hoping to get her mind off Steve.
Natasha scratched her head. "Uh, I don't know. A movie, maybe?"
"Okay." Barton browsed his modest collection. "How about Forrest Gump?"
"Yeah, why not."
The archer played the CD and they watched the starting sequence. Clint knew the film was one of Natasha's favourites and she already seemed to have forgotten the terrible events at the hospital.
"My momma always said: Life was like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get." They heard the famous line in Forrest's iconic voice which brought a smile to the redhead's face. And Barton already knew what she was going to say.
"Speaking of chocolates…"
"I got you, Princess."
They spent the rest of the night, watching the movie and eating all the sweets Clint had, until the redhead fell asleep with her head on his shoulder. He switched the TV off and gently laid in his bedroom making sure not to wake her up. That wasn't overly difficult though because she slept like a log.
As Barton closed the door behind him, he prayed for Steve to wake up. Despite her undeniable skills, Natasha was definitely not ready for what could happen to the super-soldier. And from what she told him, there was a long way before he'd be back on his feet.
4
Meanwhile, Tony Stark was sitting at his mansion in Malibu, namely a workshop in the basement, tinkering with tools and spare parts as was his habit. The room was dark apart from a single lamp on his desk and the moonlight reflexes in the framed photos on a shelf.
Pepper has already gone to sleep after a romantic dinner he prepared for her earlier. He drove them to a secluded place outside the city, on a hill overlooking the Pacific Ocean and the setting sun. It was still a bit cold but Tony put fans with hot air around so that they could enjoy the spectacular view undisturbed. They drank wine and told each other sweet little nothings, comfortable with what was between them: love and security. There was no rush and desperate assurances of affection.
Since Ms. Potts (he still liked to call her by that name), took over the StarkIndustries she worked much more than previously, yet somehow they managed to spend time together, without being bothered by the outside world. Such evenings were magical and filled Tony's heart with an irreplaceable joy, reminding him how Yinsen was right all along. Family was the key to everything.
But all good things had to come to an end eventually. Pepper dozed off rather quickly when they got back home. She attended three conferences in a row and two intercontinental flights in just two days so it was more than natural. Sometimes she proved more resilient than him in his suit, taking care of all of the bureaucracy the billionaire simply hated and would always withdraw from, leaving it to Happy Hogan.
Taking all of this into consideration, Tony's mind shifted towards something else now, namely how the hell Steve came so terrifyingly close to death despite his enviable battle experience. Stark looked at the two items delivered by one of Coulson's guys yesterday; his prototype suit, now unbelievably torn and damaged, and a short knife with a narrow serrated blade.
"JARVIS you sleepin'?"
"Not at all, sir. What will we be working on tonight?" The AI asked in pleasant accent as the whole workshop came to life. The independent energy generators turned the lights on, revealing something which Tony liked to call his personal heaven.
The old desk he used to draw his first projects on, stood by a panoramic window made of bulletproof glass. It overlooked the ocean which reflected the silver glow of the full moon.
Behind him there was the testing area, usually occupied by one of his numerous suits he continually upgraded so as to be more effective in combat. In the background stood a collection of cars Pepper used for business meetings, including cabriolets, jeeps or just regular civic vehicles.
On the left, the billionaire had access to the IT centre with a central monitor mounted on the wall and surrounded by a swarm of smaller ones as well as back-up servers (including JARVIS core).
To his right an exit led through an automated door. It was coded to open in case Pepper or any other Avenger (except for Thor who was like a bull in a china shop) had to use it.
"We'll be investigating how the hell the suit I gave to Capsicle didn't stop the blade he was wounded with during his last mission." Tony explained placing the knife inside an analysis chamber. "Run the diagnostics."
"Right away, sir." JARVIS responded and scanned the weapon with a blue laser beam.
"I wonder what kind of alloy was used to make this blade? It couldn't have been regular steel."
"In that case, I shall use our Rare Materials Database. It will provide us with vital information."
"Go ahead. The more we know the better."
The scan was completed minutes later, the results displayed on one of the adjacent screens.
"The blade was made out of adamantium, an extremely durable multi-ingredient alloy, first developed in a secret facility in northern Alberta, Canada. Its original creator remains unknown though it is suspected that the synthetic metal has already been used for a classified government-funded operation. Further scanning revealed the adamantium has to be kept in its liquid form at all times, otherwise it solidifies into an almost indestructible structure." JARVIS reported while Tony made some quick calculations on his computer.
"What about its toughness and tensility? Melting point? Give me all the specs."
"It is three times tougher than titanium and almost fifty percent more heavy than tungsten. Its tensility is extremely limited, that is why the mould used to cast the desired object must have a certain shape prior to the process." JARVIS stopped for a few longer moments to run additional simulations. "According to my estimation the melting point of adamantium amounts to 7404.80°F or 4096°C."
The AI then proceeded to list the chemical and physical properties of the unknown alloy. Tony whistled with respect. The numbers were awe-striking, no wonder the suit didn't stand a chance. But how then did the rogue widow have access to such a powerful substance? Stark stretched before he turned in his swivel chair. "Access our personal server. I'd like to review our work on Cap's suit. It's been a while."
"Of course, sir. However I suggest at least a few hours of sleep. You have been on your feet for the past thirty-two hours."
Tony rubbed his blood-shot eyes. "I can't J. Capsicle almost died back there and I need to make sure he won't in the future. It's eating away at me."
Stark knew he shouldn't but he felt slightly guilty for Steve's condition. Fortunately the suit stopped the bullets or Captain America would become a historical figure, this time for real.
"Understandable, sir. Shall I make you a cup of coffee then?"
"Yes, please. Be careful not to wake up Pepper." Tony nodded his head towards the ceiling as one of his suits suddenly powered up and headed for the door. The AI made the heavy armour almost inaudible when it climbed the stairs to the kitchen upstairs.
"Let's see…"
5
While Natasha was visiting Steve at the hospital, someone from afar watched them and ten trillion other souls across the galaxy. If you were of Asgard then you'd surely know his name. Heimdall, the Guardian of the Bifröst, stood watch in the Himinbjorg. From there the Rainbow Bridge could be directed to any location within the Nine Realms.
When he shifted his gaze to Svartalfheim, Heimdall heard a familiar voice. He took up his sword and placed it within the power core of the Bridge, then twisted forcefully. Loud rumbling could be heard as the portal in front of him activated, revealing a gateway to the other realm. From it a familiar figure emerged, clad in black and silver, with a hammer in his right hand.
"Thor Odinson. You are late." Heimdall said calmly in his deep voice. There was no anger or blame in it, just a simple statement of facts. The Asgardian god smiled sadly in response, not even trying to excuse himself.
"I know, I know. There is really nothing I could say for my defence, Heimdall."
"There is not." The Guardian nodded, knowing full well he had a point.
Thor visited his own Kingdom rarely and usually for a brief moment. This time it was no different - the continuous pursuit of Loki proved to be an extremely gruelling task and the god of mischief managed to slip through Thor's hands again. It was impossible to predict what kind of devilry Loki would come up with next but one thing was certain. Thor had to report this to the Allfather then catch his dear brother. Alive.
Now, however, Thor's mind was occupied with someone else whom he last met on Earth. "Heimdall, my dear friend, tell me how Steve Rogers is doing? I haven't seen him in a long time."
The Bifröst Guardian eyes narrowed his eyes as he peered through the stars. "Captain Rogers lies wounded and can't hear those around him. He is in great pain but Midgard's healers are taking care of him."
Thor scratched his head. If he said he was surprised it would be a lie because Steve indeed had a distinctive tendency to frequent hospitals after his missions. "Is he alone?"
Heimdall was silent for a second. "No. There is a young red-haired woman by his side. She comes there every day, waiting for him to wake up."
"Natasha." Thor whispered to himself. His suspicions were correct then: the spy and the soldier did gravitate towards each other. "I guess he's in even better hands than I thought. She's the only one whom he lives for. I shouldn't disturb them."
The Guardian watched him closely for a moment or two before he spoke. "The Allfather awaits you. You should go now."
"Yes, I probably should." Thor agreed, intending to fly away towards the Royal Palace. He halted when he felt Heimdall's hand on his shoulder. "I will keep watch over them, Thor. Don't worry."
The god of thunder nodded his hand and shook hands with his friend. He just hoped the soldier and the spy would have a chance to create something beautiful together.
There was already so much evil in their world and people like them definitely shouldn't face it alone.
6
Natasha was standing in a long, narrow corridor with no windows or any turnoffs. Faint blue light, present everywhere, had no source and wasn't bright enough, making it extremely difficult for the spy to distinguish the black doors from the darkness around her. She tried opening each of them but to no avail, they didn't budge an inch, no matter how hard she attempted to. As there was no other alternative, Natasha began walking down the hallway, intending or rather hoping to find a way out at the end of it.
Somewhere inside she knew she should be worried and that thought made her stomach tie into a knot.
When the redhead looked behind her shoulder she saw the doors disappearing in something resembling a black mist. It was unusually cold. Natasha rubbed her hands trying to warm them up but with no effect. Her breath became a white vapour and she began to shake. After a period of time which felt like an eternity she came to a sudden stop, because the corridor ended. The spy didn't see any door or even a hatch but a bare wall, an unbreakable barrier which didn't let her go any further. She looked desperately for some kind of clue to how she could get out when she heard this voice.
"Leaving so soon?"
The hair on Natasha's neck bristled. It was well-known to her because she listened to it every single day. The redhead slowly turned around and realized she was back in a hospital room again. The same blue light as before, now a hundred times brighter, let her see the details of the surroundings pretty well.
There stood the bed, next to a window behind which Natasha saw the same mysterious black mist as before. From the medical machinery countless tubes extended and connected to an unconscious body lying in bed with white covers. Steve was mumbling something quietly as someone leaned over him, touching his cheek.
The mysterious figure stiffened when it realized Natasha was watching. It turned around and the spy was suddenly looking at herself. The same black clothes, red hair, face, movements… everything except for the eyes. They were a pair of endless black wells. No green nor empathy could be found there, just an empty void.
"She doesn't want you to go, Natalia. Strange, don't you think?"
Natasha blinked a couple of times, hearing her old name. The question was asked in her voice as well, no doubt about it, yet there was this razor-sharp hint to it which made her skin crawl and that meant something. The spy sensed danger coming in waves from whatever was standing beside the soldier's bed.
"Look at him. Mortally wounded because someone else was stupid enough to get caught and had to be rescued. What a waste, he could have been so much more. Without this life of a soldier… " The apparition said, looking Natasha right in the eyes. "Remember what you have learned at home? I mean your real home."
"I left that life behind."
"Of course you did. But you will never be fully free from it." A satisfied expression crept onto the figure's face. "Emotions are a distraction, Natalia. They lead to intimacy. Intimacy leads to attachment. And attachment… "
"... is a weakness." Natasha found herself finishing the sentence involuntarily. She lifted her gaze to look at the enemy and clenched her teeth. "Steve is not my weakness."
"Is he?" The apparition flashed a nasty smile, conjuring a weapon out of thin air. The barrel of the gun reflected the blue light when it was pointed at Steve's head.
"STEVE IS NOT MY WEAKNESS!" Natasha woke up abruptly, drawing Clint's knife from under the pillow.
She was drenched in sweat and panting heavily when the realization punched her in the guts.
Her nightmares came back.
A/N: And that's it. I don't know what your take on the character of Bruce Banner is but I prefer to imagine him as the Edward Norton version rather than Ruffalo's. I just find the former actor more interesting. As for the R&R, don't hesitate to voice your opinions on the story, I love to read your feedback. See you guys soon. / WS