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Their cover was blown. Natasha knew it the second they stepped into the cafe. There were too many eyes on them and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end as she and Sam approached the counter.
This was supposed to be a simple mission, get in, get the intel, get out. They knew the owner of the cafe used it as a front to sell alien tech, but he just sold it. They needed to find out where he got the weapons himself before they could come and shut the whole thing down.
But apparently it was too late for subtly.
Sam’s arm around her shoulder tightened and she smiled up at him sweetly. His jaw was clenched, the muscles jumping slightly, but he was otherwise calm.
“What’ll it be,” the woman behind the counter asked when it was their turn to order.
Natasha watched her out of the corner of her eye as she pretended to look over the menu. The woman’s smile was sickeningly sweet but her eyes gave her away. Her shifty gaze around the crowded cafe gave Natasha an idea of how many people were waiting for them.
“I’ll just have a small black coffee,” Natasha answered, pitching her voice higher than usual.
“The same for me,” Sam said, his tone surprisingly even despite his tense body language.
The woman nodded and punched their order into the register and stared Natasha directly in the eye as she read off their total.
Natasha held the woman’s gaze as she paid and only looked away when she turned around to make their coffee. She pushed Sam against lightly against the wall at the end of the counter and held him there, smiling flirtily up at him. She leaned in close on her toes to whisper urgently in his ear.
“We need to leave. If they follow us, split up and meet me at the extraction point.”
She felt him nod and she pulled away with a girlish giggle.
“Two black coffees,” a young teenager called out and Sam went over to claim their drinks. The woman was gone.
As fast as they could without drawing attention to themselves, they headed for the exit. Natasha saw a couple and two men stand as they passed and follow them. At the street corner, she nudged Sam away from her, dropping their cover completely. Sam crossed the street in the crowd and Natasha veered left.
Over her shoulder she saw the two men that had followed them out of the cafe, trying and failing to blend in with the rest of the people on the sidewalk. Natasha ducked into an alley and reached for the gun holstered at the small of her back.
On of the men rounded the corner into the alley and ran at her, knife in hand. She disarmed him easily and knocked him out cold with the end of her gun. The other guy was faster than she anticipated and knocked the gun out of her hand with a swift kick that left her fingers throbbing and tingly. He swiped at her with his knife sloppily and she was able to kick his legs out from under him before something hit the back of her head hard.
She crumpled to the ground, feeling dizzy, her ears ringing slightly, but she was hauled back to her feet by nimble fingers at her throat. The woman from the cafe stared at her menacingly as she slammed her into the brick wall of the alley.
“Who sent you?” she practically growled, her fingers tightening around Natasha’s throat.
Natasha smirked, standing completely still.
“What?” she asked innocently in Russian. They’d known they were coming, but had no clue who they were. It meant they had some way to detect weapons or comm devices as they entered the cafe.
“Don’t play games,” the woman snarled, slamming her head against the brick again.
Her vision blurred momentarily and the grip on her neck was becoming an issue. There would definitely be a bruise later.
“Who sent you?” The woman asked again, her words frantic as her eyes darted around the alley.
Natasha just laughed.
That seemed to set her off and Natasha watched her nod to the conscious man. He punched her in her ribs, hard and solid that sent her gasping for breath that wouldn’t come. Again and again her hit her until her vision began to blur.
“We’ll just have to kill her,” she heard the woman say and she released her throat.
Natasha fell to the ground, but saw her own gun trained at her head. She couldn’t move, paralyzed by the aching in her side and the breath she was desperately trying to regain.
The click of the safety rang in her ears and she tried to move, but the familiar sound of Sam’s wing pack filled the alley. Gun shots echoed in the narrow alley and Natasha barely had time to brace herself before Sam was lifting her off the ground.
“Well that was a bust,” Sam said when they landed beside the quinjet, the ramp open and waiting for them.
“They knew we had weapons,” she gasped out, holding her side as she limped onto the jet. She dropped into one of the open seats as he headed for the pilot’s chair.
“You okay?” he asked, getting the jet in the air.
Natasha tried to take a deep breath, but the burning in her side was too much.
“I will be,” she told him quietly.
Bruce was waiting for them when they got back to base, met them in the jet hangar. Sam must have already reported back that their mission had gone to shit.
“Natasha,” he breathed out when he saw her.
He climbed the ramp and kneeled beside where she sat. She tried for a reassuring smile, but the most she could muster was a pained grimace.
She could feel him looking her over with the critical eye he used sometimes when he played team doctor.
“How do you feel?” he asked, bringing his hand up to pull at her eyelids.
“Tired,” she answered honestly, her voice wheezy to her own ears.
He stood and held a hand out to her. “You should have medical check you out. Just to be safe.”
Natasha didn’t have it in her to argue. She just accepted his and and slowly got to her feet. Bruce slid his arm around her waist and helped her down the ramp and into the facility.
Medical wasn’t far from the hangar and Natasha was whisked away to an exam room as soon as they set foot inside. Normally she would protest that many people touching and moving around her but she just didn’t have the energy. Bruce hovered in the doorway the entire time, watching with his forehead wrinkled in concern.
In the end they decided to keep her overnight for observation and left her to rest with an oxygen mask to get her stats back up.
Bruce entered the room fully after everyone left her room.
“Do you want me to bring you anything?” Natasha shook her head and leaned back against the stiff pillows on her bed.
He sat in the chair in the corner, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.
“What happened out there?”
Natasha lifted the oxygen mask away from her face and rolled onto her good side to face him.
“I’m losing my touch,” she said, chuckling humorlessly.
Bruce shook his head. “I don’t believe it.”
“I wasn’t paying attention and they got the best of me,” she said looking down at the scratchy sheets. “Rookie mistake.”
“Everyone has off days,” he tried, but Natasha shook her head.
“Maybe it’s time to pass the baton,” she wheezed.
Bruce stood from the chair and sat on the edge of her bed. He covered her hand with his and put the mask back in place.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
She shrugged, taking a few deep breaths before moving the mask again.
“I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”
He brushed her hair away from her forehead.
“You don’t have to decide tonight,” he told her.
Natasha smiled softly beneath the mask and pushed herself up leaning into his space.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” he breathed out, lightly pressing his forehead against hers.
She closed her eyes and listened to his steady breathing.
“Hold me,” she said, the mask muffling her word, but she knew he understood.
Bruce shifted slightly, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, careful not to hold her too tight. She sighed, snaking her arms around his waist and clinging to the sweater he wore. One of his hands ran absently up and down her back and he turned his head to kiss her temple softly.
Today had been too close for comfort. She’d been sloppy and unfocused and came so close to being dead in that filthy alley. That’s not how she wanted to live her life anymore. Her debt had been paid, she realized. She didn’t owe the world her life. She wanted a normal life, one she could share with Bruce. He was right, she didn’t have to make her decision tonight, but she wanted to talk to Sam either way.
“Stay with me,” she said and pulled him down with her.
“Of course,” he responded without hesitation.
They fumbled around until the found a comfortable position in the small bed. She laid on her back with his head pillowed against her chest, a leg thrown over her thigh. She ran her fingers through his hair while he rubbed circles over her hip.
“Whatever you decide,” Bruce whispered after a long stretch of silence. “I’ll be with you.”
Warmth spread in her chest and a soft smile crept its way onto her lips. He said it with such certainty, it was hard not to believe it was true.
“I know.”