Who: Natasha Romanoff, Bruce Banner, and a brief appearance by Clint Barton When: Tuesday night! Where: The Avengers compound Rating: PGish Status: Log; Complete!
Bruce was working in his lab, taking a break from being out on the streets. He had been working non-stop to kill demons, help people, treat injuries, and generally help out. He was taking a break right now because he needed it. He needed the quiet. He needed to breathe. he had seen too much death in the last few days. from Natasha, to Kat, to sheer mayhem of Zombies and demons, to hearing about other deaths as well. Somehow, it was all too horrible, and yet he couldn’t stop.
He had to keep going, because other people needed help.
And it was... too much.
So he was meditating in his lab, breathing, and letting it go, riding the anger like a wave as he let his mind and body get away from the crazy.
Sensation slowly returned first. A cool breeze on skin, not yet recognized for what it was, just the fact that it existed. Next was thought. Memory. Hair not too dark, steel blue eyes; blue green eyes and hair almost as red as her own. Her. Natalia. No....Natasha. She was Natasha now, and as that thought sunk slowly into her consciousness, breath itself suddenly returned, forcing its way past lips tinged blue from death, rigor mortis, and cold, and her body responded as the breath forced its way down her throat and into her lungs. Her chest rose and fell once, twice, then she sat up abruptly as a cough escaped, wracking her body. She didn’t notice the sheet that slid off her form and fell to the floor.
Jade eyes opened, widening a little as she stared around her in confusion. She couldn’t quite recall what had happened, but she knew something had. In fact, at the moment she couldn’t recall much of anything at all. As she realized how utterly cold she felt, Natasha twisted, swinging her legs to one side, then slid forward to the edge of the table and let her feet drop to the floor. She began to shiver, beginning first with a sudden, sharp jerk, which evolved into a bone-deep shudder, then outright shivering that shook her entire body.
Of course, Natasha was used to cold. She’d suffered worse than this during her training in the Red Room program over the years. But this was unexpected, and the cold, it seemed, had already set in, making her movements stiff and slow. Carefully, with her arms wrapped around her, she began to walk forward, unable to even tell that the temperature of the air around her was driving. Instead she noticed the slight frost her arms and legs - her whole body seemed to be covered in, and she had a suddenly wild thought that she would shatter if she happened to trip and fall.
When her eyes landed on a handle, she realized that it was a door and vague recognition of where she was brushed across her memory. Reaching out to the handle, she prepared to pull it back if the cold hurt, but then realized that she was too cold to even feel the metal. Pulling it towards her, she heard the airlock seal around the door pop, and she reached her other hand out against the door to push with what little strength she had.
Stumbling forward as the door swung open, she sucked in deep lungfuls of air, still shivering uncontrollably as her eyes again fell shut under the lab’s lights.
The sound of the freezer door unlocking and then opening brought Bruce out of his meditation with a start and he fell over. When he rose, and saw what was there, who wa there, he stared. A frost-covered, very naked, Natasha Romanoff.
“Natasha?” His voice was whisper-thin, and shock lanced through him, and pain. This couldn’t be! he’d seen her dead! What? How?
“How did you--- what?”
he was staring, and he couldn’t stop.
Suddenly he stood, some small part of him seeing her condition and gently pulled her forward to push the freezer door closed. Then he slid off his jacket and slid it around her shoulders, still staring.
“I---”
Her ears seemed as foggy as her thoughts, but they caught a faint sound, and her head came up slowly, eyes reopening. Natasha blinked a few times as she met the gaze of the dark-haired man who was staring, then suddenly coming towards her. She didn’t have the strength to back away or lift her arms, and her hands fell from the door as she was tugged away from it. The Russian continued to shiver even as the jacket was placed around her, head lowering as she swallowed hard.
Finally, her head lifted again just a little, and she opened her eyes to focus on him, just as his name settled into her thoughts. “...Bruce,” she whispered faintly, hoarsely, before clearing her throat and trying again.
“Bruce?” This time her voice was a little stronger, though still weak as she swayed a bit.
“Yes. that’s me. Come on. Let’s get you warm.” he led the way into the small rooms off the lab, and to a portable heater, turning it on. he directed her to sit on the side of the bed, and then aimed the heater at her, starting it on low at first. “Are you thirsty? How do you feel?” She’d come back from the dead! Holy crap!
His eyes dropped to her chest and he saw the wound completely gone, and heaved a sigh of relief, even as he noted that she looked very healthy like...he yanked his eyes up. “I’ll get you something to wear.” Damn it, it had been far too long.
She’d begun to feel a little numb from the cold, and at first she didn’t even feel the bed even though she knew she was sitting on its edge. As her shivering continued, Natasha clutched Bruce’s jacket a little tighter around her shoulders, then stared at him blankly at the questions for a moment. Was she thirsty? How did she feel?
It took a few seconds for her to form the right answers, and after a minute she slowly nodded. “....Yes. And....I don’t - I don’t know.” Natasha couldn’t figure out the right answer to the question just yet, particularly since things were still sinking in. She remembered, suddenly, pain, a sharp pain, and one hand let go of the jacket to press against her chest, over her heart, where the bullet had pierced her skin.
“There’s no - I don’t unders...what happened?” Her eyes were almost lost as they met his, pleading for his help in making sense of everything.
“You were shot, and you were killed. Natasha... you died. And if you’re back now... the Seal must have brought you back.” He poured her cool water from a special thermos nearby, and handed it over and shifted the heater to spread the heat over her move, gently taking one of her hands.
“Do you remember going out, hearing something and leaving the compound?””
Her eyes dropped to the thermos cup as it was set in her hand, and she stared for a moment, then lifted it and took a slow sip. As her hand was taken by his, her fingers, stiff and cold to the touch, twitched slightly, then relaxed a little in his palm. His words caught her attention and she frowned a little, then looked up yet again.
At the question, her head tilted slightly, then nodded faintly. “I...there was. Crying. A child....a young girl, crying. I found her....she had blond hair and she was so young.” Her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to focus, remember what had happened, then let a breath shudder out slowly. “I didn’t know. She was...possessed. I think. It had a gun and shot me before I could think.”
“I figured it was something like that. I’ll save for later all the reasons why that was a bad plan. Right now,. I just... we’ll get you well, okay?”
He enfolded that hand with both of his, his body heat strong around her cold hand. “I’ll get you clothing, and some hot tea. How does that sound?”
Reopening her eyes, they landed on his hands, then lifted to his gaze. After a few minutes again, she finally gave a small nod, though she didn’t really want to be alone. The heat was beginning to hit her skin, and she could see the frost melting away, turning her skin a faint dusty rose color. “Okay,” she whispered in response to both of his questions. “Don’t...don’t take too long?”
He had noticed her skin color. It was hard not to notice her, being this close. “I won’t. I promise.”He stood and let go, then moved out to the hall and got some sweat pants and a t-shirt for her, a well as started some hot tea in a heater cup. He brought all of it back in, and set the heater cup on a table next to her. “Three minutes and that will be ready.”
Then he held up the clothing. “Do you feel up to getting dressed a little? Might help you get warm?”
While he was gone, Natasha wrapped her arms around herself yet again and moved so that she was closer to the heater, almost to the point of being burned if it had been metal. Her head lifted again when he stepped back in, body tensing a little instinctively. She glanced at the cup, then back to Bruce and the clothes, her eyes taking them in.
Finally, she nodded again and slowly, almost painfully, moved to her feet, then reached out and took the pants from him. Natasha pulled them on slowly, biting back a groan at her stiffness, then took the t-shirt and pulled it on as well, also slowly. That done, she moved again closer to the heater and shut her eyes as she wrapped her arms around her midsection.
For a long moment, she remained silent, then her eyes opened abruptly as two names entered her thoughts, and she jerked her head up to look at Bruce.
“Clint. James. God...how long was....where are they? Are they okay?”
Bruce reached out and gently steadied her as she dressed, realizing modesty was pretty much dead anyway. He winced at his mental words, but he had sewn up her wound, and undressed and cleaned her, in preparation for a possible funeral, and now there was no sign of it. She was healed, as if the deathblow had never happened.
He put the coat back over her arms again as she leaned near the heater.
Her question made him wince. He looked down and his voice was low and tired, as he spoke.
“3 days, In their rooms. How do you think? Mourning. As soon as you’re strong enough, I can take you to them. “ He nodded, slowly. “They missed you horribly.” They were her family, and needed her. Bruce would be okay.
She was alive!
“Their rooms,” she whispered, closing her eyes in relief and falling back onto the bed. The rest of his words were barely registered, too relieved she was that they were alive and well and safe. That they hadn’t done anything foolish, and they hadn’t gotten themselves killed following her own...death. She didn’t want to think about that just yet, because it didn’t matter now. She was alive and breathing and she’d die a thousand deaths if it meant keeping those she loved safe.
Finally nodding at his words about taking her to them, Natasha’s eyes reopened and she again slid her arms around herself. The shivering had been replaced by faint shudders as it began to fade, and she focused her gaze on the heater as though willing it to make her feel better.
Bruce checked the tea, then handed it to her. “Sip slowly. It should help.” He smiled at her, hands enfolding hers. “You are back. You’re really back.” He swallowed, and nodded.
And then, before he could talk himself out of it, he kissed her, hard, and long and slow. And then he was moving away, to fiddle with the heater.
“I don’t remember being g-” Natasha’s reply as she took the tea, but didn’t lift it since his hands were on hers, was cut off suddenly when his lips descended onto hers. She could barely feel the kiss, and was more surprised than anything, her reflexes still slow and muddled from the cold - and death, apparently.
She’d barely begun to return it when Bruce stepped back, and she stared at him while he did something with the heater. For a long moment she said nothing, staring silently, before she finally remembered the tea in her hands and lifted the cup slowly to take a long drink, closing her eyes as it nearly scalded her tongue and throat. She lowered the cup and coughed slightly, then took another, smaller sip, as he’d suggested.
bruce was embarrassed that he had done that. He had always said he would not. Making sure the heater would increase heat slowly, he looked up at her. “You were missed, Natasha. By all of us.”
He nodded. “Do you feel up to eating. or do you just want to rest?”
Shaking her head, she met his gaze. “No, I...don’t want to rest. Not anymore.” If she’d been dead for three days, well...she didn’t want to ‘rest’ anymore. Not right now, at least. “I’m not...I guess I should eat.” Her eyes dropped back to the tea as she sipped again. She wanted to see Clint and James, but Bruce was right, that she should get her strength up first. She didn’t want to fall over.
“I have soup cooking. would you like to come out to eat some or eat in here?” Bruce watched her, unsure, wanting to see her better and safe with her family again. He smiled at the thought. She deserved them and they her.
And Bruce was glad she was back.
“I’ll...come out.” She finished off the tea slowly, then looked up at him. After a moment, she set the empty cup down, then slowly pushed up from the bed, taking a few steps. She straightened after a moment and took a deep breath, then nodded to her friend.
“Yes...I’ll come out there.” The sooner she ate, the quicker she got back to them.
He held out a hand to her.
“Then come on, Natasha. We’ll soon have you set to rights.” Bruce led the way out and back to the main lab, to the small cooker he used only for food. It was bubbling away and he found two bowls and scooped out soup into them. “Sit, please.” He gestured to two stools.
He poured more water, and then set the soup and water in front of her, before setting his own down opposite her. She had come back from the dead. He felt... weird.
Natasha hesitated a moment, then obediently slipped her hand into Bruce’s and followed him out of the room slowly. The scent of the food hit her nose and she almost eagerly sank onto a stool as her stomach made a sound, proving that she was hungrier than she’d previously thought. She leaned into the table a little, jade eyes watching him close. Once the food and drink were set in front of her, Natasha picked up the glass and sipped, then tugged the bowl a little closer to herself and began to eat slowly.
Bruce began to eat, watching her occasionally and smiling softly. She was alive. That was well worth a celebration. Even if it had been a hell of a few days.
He wondered now, if the others who had died would come back. he swallowed as he realized some of them might... tonight.
that would be interesting...
“It’s good... good to see you... again.”
“Thank you,” she answered softly, giving him a faint smile. Though like she’d started to say before, she didn’t remember being gone. Wherever she’d been while she died, Natasha didn’t remember it. That was probably for the best, anyway. Pushing her hair back absently, she focused on the bowl and continued to eat, finishing it after only a few minutes despite trying to go easy on her stomach. She finished the water as well, and gently pushed both the glass and bowl aside.
Bruce had mostly finished and collected bowls and cups to put them in a side sink. “How are you doing?” It felt weird having her back and not remembering she had died. But maybe that was for the best. If she didn’t remember that... good.
Bruce would hope she’d also forget his impulsive kiss,. fueled by way too much emotion.
“I feel a little better,” she replied, looking over at him after a moment. Natasha was tempted to ask about the kiss, but ultimately decided it just wasn’t important. It required too much thought right now, and, really, she wanted to see how everyone else was.
Everyone else.
“...How was I brought back, Bruce? Did...Was anyone else killed?” Both questions worried her somewhat and Natasha didn’t like not having the answers to either.
“A few others. None of ours.” Bruce winced as he put it that way, but really, it was true. They had an ‘us’, a group they called their own. Gary and Rachel, Thor and James, Clint and Maria, Betty, and sometimes Snow. They belonged to Natasha and Bruce, as Bruce and Natasha belonged to them. Somehow, it was true.
“I don’t know, but I’m willing to bet it was the Seal.” He grinned slowly. “The Seal must have gotten pissed off by old Lucy’s actions and finally gotten the gumption to starting to reverse things...which means others could come back, and so could the … powers.” The color drained from his face, but he shook his head and smiled at her.
“Clint and James are fine. I’ll take you to them as soon as you can walk with my assistance.”
“I hope they come back.” She resolved to check the network as soon as she could to find out what had happened and who else had been killed. But she nodded at the mention of “us. She couldn’t remember her own family, and she wasn’t close to too many people at SHIELD, but here...here, Natasha had made a family.
“Powers...” She studied him curiously, wondering why he paled, and her own thoughts drifted to the serum and the things the Red Room had done to her. She wondered if she’d get her genetic enhancements back.
At his words, she looked over at him, then slowly stood again. For a moment, Natasha swayed, then straightened in determination. “I’m ready to see them now.”
Bruce nodded and extended his hand to her. “Then come on, bright eyes. time to go see the Hawk.” He smiled a little and led the way out. It wasn’t a long path, but a familiar one by now, and he walked it this time with hope and a smile. This time, he was not carrying bad news. This time, when he knocked, he was smiling.
“Clint? I have someone who needs to talk to you here...”
The past three days had been the loneliest Clint had ever remembered having. He could feel his heart still breaking for his partner. It was really only James that kept him from running off after seeing her dead and doing something completely stupid. The siege on the complex was still going on last he heard and he had been there trying to fight and do what he could. He had gotten banged up and wounded but he didn’t want anyone looking after him.
Wincing as he continued stitching a gash on his arm, he glanced up at the knock for a second before returning his eyes to his work. “Busy,” he returned quietly, just loud enough to be heard.
Taking Bruce’s extended hand, Natasha followed him gratefully. The path itself was more than familiar to her, as she’d walked it enough times. After they stopped at the room she shared with Clint, she almost wanted to walk in without a knock, but made herself wait while Bruce knocked politely and spoke. When she heard his voice through the door, Natasha hesitated, glancing over at her friend for a moment. Finally, she reached out on her own and turned the doorknob. Pushing the door open, Natasha stepped in slowly, jade eyes glancing around swiftly, then landing on her partner. For a few seconds, she studied him and what he was doing, then shook her head a little.
“...That’s going to be crooked if you keep trying to do it yourself,” she said softly, a small smile growing on her lips.
Bruce peered in, then grinned. “Why do people keep trying to do my job?” He moved to Clint and poked him, then held out his hand. “Give me the needle. Talk to the Woman. Then I’ll be out of your hair and you won't bleed on her.” His voice was matter of fact, but his grin was as wide as his face.
When her voice hit his ears he shut his eyes, fresh tears pricking his eyes. He was already going mad from grief. When Bruce spoke he sighed in annoyance and looked up as he spoke, “I said I’m b-” He fell silent completely when he saw her. He just stared at her, his mouth open in shock.
Shifting so that she stayed within his sight, Natasha slowly walked over to Clint, her eyes locked on his. Moving so she sat in front of him, the Russian reached out and cupped her husband’s - in her heart, if not legal - face and leaned in to kiss him deeply, her eyes remaining open the entire time and on his. She knew him well enough to know he’d need this, the physical contact, to reassure himself that she was there and alive.
Bruce took advantage of his distraction to snatch the needle and do a quick and expert bindoff, suturing the wound quickly, with battlefield skill, and ignoring, completely the kiss and the touching. La la la. As soon as he was done, he turned and left. There was no need for him, here, not now. And they needed time.
And he had another body to pull from the freezer and hope over.