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“Hey Romanov? You got the time?”
Tony Stark is an idiot.
He hasn’t stopped since he watched her get floored by a flying clock, desperately flung like a frisbee by some militia thug. She’d been distracted and paid the price with a deep head wound and another mark of red in her ledger.
Even now limping down the corridor of the helicarrier with a dented suit and a missing mask, he still thinks he’s a comedic genius. She only tenses a little when a hand on her shoulder squeezes (defiantly progress she notes. Fists no longer fly at unexpected contact. She’s been working on it) It’s a gesture she knows is supposed to be comforting and red hair bobs as she nods her thanks to Steve next to her. His ever-calming presence is appreciated.
The Avengers had done it again. Saved the day.
(Surely like this, Natasha thinks, she’ll pay her dues eventually)
They all head to the command deck first. It’s busy, busier than usual with navy-clad agents rushing between screens and consoles. There’s a cloud of unease hovering steadily over the room. She scans the room, looking for Maria.
She just wants to show her battered but intact self. Watch the subtle relief pass across Maria’s face, and then she’ll disappear to stand underneath the steaming spray of her shower and wash off the cloying scent of smoke and blood, both hers and not. (although she doesn’t feel like she’ll ever be clean)
She vaguely registers the voice of someone behind her, “Hey Fury, where’s Coulson?”
(No, she thinks. Where’s Maria?)
Fury tenses. She watches the set of his shoulders and his jaw twitch. It’s not a comforting sign.
Worry sits heavy and uncomfortably on her chest.
She’s been hundreds of people. Natasha Romanov can pull on a different identity like a new coat. There’s no one in the world better at hiding themselves than the Black Widow.
It disconcerting really that this is all it takes for her mask to slip. She’s gone soft; Maria is a weakness she shouldn’t have indulged in. (but how could she resist?)
She remembers early days (months? years?) in the Red Room ‘Love is weakness,’ they said, 'Weakness will kill you and it will not spare a thought for your feelings Vy glupaya devchonka.'
“Agents Coulson and Hill are currently missing in action.” Fury looks extremely uncomfortable, displeased at being the one to deliver this report. But really, who else could it be. Later on, she’ll remember the tremble in his hands, miniscule really. He’s scared, although scared for his colleagues or scared for her reaction she doesn’t know. (Months later he’ll tell her it was both)
It’s not enough. Natasha needs information. She needs facts and particulars. Maria is somewhere, somewhere decidedly not here and she has no time for deflections.
“When’s the next scheduled check in?”
He inhales slow and deep, “It’s been four days Agent Romanov.”
The gash on her head starts throbbing again and she can feel the blood trickling down her face, matting uncomfortably in the hair at her temple. She drags the back of her fist across her forehead furiously, it comes away crimson. (she just can’t escape these flashes of red)
Maria should have been fussing by now, gentle fingers ghosting over the wound and soft lips pressing urgently across her skin.
She ached. No longer just the pain of split skin and bruises, she was accustomed to that - but this feeling was unusual, an unfathomable ache deep inside her.
The news hits its mark like one of Clint’s arrows. Piercing years of carefully constructed walls and defences. The Black Widow is lethal, her mind rattles off her qualifications with ease: a world-class athlete and gymnast, an expert martial artist, marksman and weapons specialist. (all of it useless now. All of the training in the world couldn’t protect her from this.)
The guys shift behind her. They fall into formation ready to back her up, ready to support her and hold her up. (of course they know, how could they not.)
“What was the op?”
“It was meant to be simple. Just a routine-”
Clint interrupts the explanation, coming to stand next to her, “What went wrong?”
“They were compromised. It was a setup. The last we heard Agent Coulson was attempting to secure transport.”
“And Hill?” It’s Stark that speaks up this time, voicing what she’s desperately trying and failing to choke out.
“Agent Hill’s status was unknown at the time the message was received.”
Maria is perfectly competent, she’s efficient and resourceful and deadly. Not deadly like them, but she’s damn good at her job and she can handle herself. Natasha goes over these facts like a mantra. Like a prayer.
“The status of their retrieval?”
“Unsuccessful. We’ve not had the luxury of sending out our superheroes but now you’re here you can suit up.”
“You should have pulled us out.”
“Absolutely not Romanov, you know that as well as I do.”
She needs to be there. She needs to assist and to fight and she needs to protect. They have no idea what’s coming for them (it turns out that actually, they do, and Natasha swears it’ll be the last time someone she loves gets used as Avengers bait) no idea the damage she’s going to cause.
“Then we go now.”
Clint and Stark are halfway across the room before she even finishes her sentence.
Failure is unacceptable. She’s bringing Maria home and this time it’ll be the deadly Russian assassin peppering desperate kisses and whispering words of reverence.
Maria Hill will not become a streak of red.