Warning: Character Death, Angst, Darker Themes.
Disclaimer: Yeah. I don't own the Avengers.
-;-
Steve Rogers was many things.
Patriotic, calm, political, able to hold his own in a fight…
But there was one thing that the famous Captain America was not, and that was good in assisting distraught women.
Natasha Romanoff being one such women.
After all, she'd just tried to kill him. Through a half foot thick reinforced steel door. With a sword. If that didn't scream upset, he didn't know what did.
But still, there was what Stark and Bruce had said- maybe he should let Black Widow let some of her anger out before trying to talk to her.
…No. He couldn't do that. She needed help, and he was going to help her.
Shifting his stance against the wall, the blond moved back down the hall towards the training rooms. More specifically, Training Room Two.
-;-
Her knuckles were bleeding.
Actually, her arms were bleeding too.
The room around her was all but decimated. Pieces of splintered wood and weapons surrounded her prone form, but she couldn't find it in herself to care. Hot tears streaked across flushed cheeks, shoulders shaking silently.
Gone.
Gone, gone, gone, and there was nothing she could do.
"Natasha?"
"What the hell do you want from me, Rogers?" she snapped back, barely lifting her head. God, did he not know when to shut up?
"Can I come in?"
"No." she intoned.
There was a heavy knock on the dented door, then the sound of the man on the other side attempting to force the locking system on the door to snap. It wouldn't work, of course- this was Stark they were talking about, after all- but he was trying anyway.
"Natasha, let me in!" Steve ordered sharply from the other side of the door, anger in his tone.
Rage sunk into her chest, hot and dense and boiling.
Before she fully comprehended what exactly she was doing, her fingers slammed the code into the computer, and then she was pinning Rogers to the ground. Her bloody nails dug into every vulnerable inch of his skin, seeking out every nerve and muscle she knew would cause maximum pain, and when that was done, she began throwing heavy punches.
Steve was yelling beneath her, wriggling in an attempt to get away from the harsh abuse he was recieving. Despite being a super soldier, it seemed that even he wasn't immune to the Black Widow's attacks.
Finally, heavy metal was hauling her off of him, dragging her away from her punching bag.
Snarling, she turned, clawing at the metal of Iron Man's forearms before wriggling out of his grasp and latching onto the nearest limb. Every nerve straining, she threw the suit over her shoulder and into the wall before rolling her shoulder and taking a deep breath. Clarity returned to her mind, but there was nothing but a cold detachment lingering there.
"Leave me the hell alone." She stated icily before turning and stalking back into the training room, effectively escaping from the group of people that she really had no want to see or talk to. Slamming the door behind her, the redhead stalked over to the far wall, seeing no need to take the time to lock the door as she was fairly certain no one would dare come in. Other than Rogers, but she highly doubted he would be much of a nuisance for a while.
She'd really decided to go down the road of insanity, hadn't she?
The short bark of laughter came out of her throat before she could stop herself, and she couldn't stop for several minutes before her laughter turned back to sobs.
-;-
"I went to the store. For twenty minutes. And in that time, you're telling me that Natasha completely kicked Captain America's ass and did the same to Iron Man when you went to help?" Bruce asked as the small band of men stood in the kitchen upstairs. Well, Tony and Bruce were standing- Steve was sitting on one of the bar stools with a first-aid kit and tending to several gouges in his arms. After no reply came, the scientist sighed, removing his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly.
"He started it." Tony muttered sulkily, looking very much like a toddler who had been scolded for taking the cookie jar. Crossing his arms, the billionaire leaned against the counter, sending a dark look over to Rogers. "And not only that, but we warned him that this would happen. Guess what, Rogers? It did. And I even managed to get caught up in it because I happen to have a conscience."
"I never asked for your help."
"No, but you almost got yourself killed by the unbalanced super assassin- who, by the way, single-handedly destroyed one of my training rooms- and to be honest, Rogers, you're starting to make me wonder if you're the one we should be worried about. You got a fucking death wish or something that we don't know about?" Tony snapped back.
"You practically gave me your blessing to get myself killed if I so desired, Stark!" Steve finally yelled back, eyes spitting sparks. "If you've got a problem with that, too bad!"
Tony growled lowly in his chest, looking thoroughly tempted to attack the blond, before he shoved himself off from the counter and walked stiffly over to the elevator.
"Sir?" Jarvis inquired as the doors slid open with the soft click.
"Don't." Tony snapped, stepping inside.
As soon as the doors closed, the billionaire punched the smooth metal wall of the elevator.
He couldn't believe all of this. It was completely and utterly fucking unbelievable, the way that everything was playing out. A day and a half and already everything that the group of people had gone through in the last eight months was being ripped out from under them. All of the timid friendships that had begun through everyone were quickly going to disintegrate if this type of behavior continued, starting with the Widow.
"Sir, are you sure you do not need me to call Miss Potts?" Jarvis asked.
"Positive. She and Happy deserve their weekend vacation." Tony sighed, leaning against the wall. "No, I just need to get out of here."
"Very well, Sir."