The Eternal Avenger

Chapter Five: I Don't Doubt It

(Claray's POV)

For the next several months, things fell into a familiar pattern. Several times a week, I would approach the shop to find a smirking redhead leaning on the building, waiting for me. Sometimes she would disappear for a few days, maybe weeks, but she always came back. She would come into the shop, sometimes offering me a cup of coffee she had picked up somewhere and we would banter. Sometimes she would ask me questions. Sometimes I would even answer them. In return, I would ask her questions that she would also sometimes answer. We were circling each other like predators, but without aggression. It was more like play, how younger wolves assert their place in the pack by nipping and play-fighting with the others.  At the beginning of fall, I was approaching the shop near noon when I saw her standing there, waiting for me.

"What hours are you even open?" She smirked, in greeting.

"I'm fine, thanks, Agent Romanoff. How are you?" I countered. I looked at her closely. She had been bleeding recently. She was injured. I quickly unlocked the door, ushering her in before closing and locking it behind me.

"It's still Natasha. Seriously, though, does your boss let you keep those hours?  Also, why am I the only person ever in here?" She had placed herself on the counter – a habit – and was looking at me with a teasing smile.

"I am the boss," I answered, smiling.

"I figured." Her statement was matter-of-fact. "Thank you for telling me, though." I looked at her closely. No sarcasm. Her thanks were genuine.

"My turn." I rounded on her, approaching slowly. She looked up at me expectantly. "Where are you hurt?" My voice was softer than normal. I was doing my best not to spook the spy. It was a dangerous game.

"What?" Her eyebrows raised, questioningly.

"You have a bruise on your face that is starting to heal, and you've been bleeding." I moved a step closer, approaching to just out of arm's reach.

"I'm fine," she started.

"Agent Romanoff, where are you hurt?" She frowned.

"I don't know what you mean." Her lips pursed together; she was getting edgy.

"Yes...yes you do." I insisted. I stared into her green eyes intently. Her eyes narrowed, and she glanced away. "Please don't make me do this the harder way." It wasn't a threat, just a statement. Her eyes snapped up to mine and glared. When her gaze met mine and noticed the reddish undertone, they went wide again.

"What..." before she could finish her sentence, I had closed the gap between us, staring down at her.

"Innis dhomh (tell me)," I whispered. She looked at me for a moment longer before sighing.

"It was a mission. I got hurt." She shrugged.

"Show me. Please?" I requested. She sighed, stood up from the counter and lifted the corner of her shirt on the right-hand side. A small, dressed wound stared back at me. There was fresh blood seeping through the bandage.

"Shit," she muttered as she looked down, noticing that the bleeding had started again.

"Shhh." I put my hand on her shoulder to stop her as she tried to leave, most likely to tend to her wound. "I can help you."

"It's fine." She moved to walk around me again, and my grip on her shoulder tightened.

"Natasha..." I just looked at her. She was so shocked by the fact that I had used her name that she momentarily forgot that she was trying to leave. "Let me help you." She just nodded. I guided her over to my desk chair, holding it steady for her. "Can I see it?" She nodded again. Gingerly, I reached forward, lifting the hem of her shirt slightly. She had an old bullet wound on her abdomen that looked to be years old, and several other scars dotted her otherwise flawless skin. I gently removed the bandages, looking at the gash underneath. "Stab or slash?" I asked, trying to gauge the seriousness of the injury.

"Little bit of both. Fucker." She added the final word at the last minute, making both of us laugh. She gasped as she looked up at me, noticing that my eyes were far redder now and my fangs were slightly protruding out of my mouth. She made no movements, however.

"Are you injured anywhere else?" She shook her head very cautiously. Thank goodness for that. I nodded. "I'll be right back."

(Natasha's POV)

Something definitely strange was happening. I had my suspicions about Claray from the start, but there was something very inhuman about her. The glowing eyes and the fang-like teeth did nothing to change my mind. I tried to relax slightly in the chair – sitting tensed up was pulling on the stitches and making my side ache. I don't know why I kept sitting here and didn't use my opportunity to get away, but something kept me planted in this chair. I heard noises from another room in the back that I couldn't see, and figured that Claray was getting some cleaning supplies. She returned with nothing in her hands except for a coffee mug, which was handed to me. I looked into it, surprised to see something that was definitely not coffee or water.  It looked like blood.

"Is this...what I think it is?" I cocked my eyebrow at her. She nodded.

"It's mine. It will help, trust me." Right. I glanced into the cup before looking back up at her.

"And I'm supposed to what?" I stared up at her, seeing if I could tell anything of use from her body language or facial expressions.

"Drink it." I would have laughed out loud if the look on her face wasn't so damn serious.

"You're kidding."

"I'm not."

"Oh, you most certainly are." I snapped.  She approached even closer. Her fangs were longer now, and much more pronounced, and her eyes were bright red, otherwise her face was flawless. No. Unchanged. Her face was unchanged. I looked up into her eyes and heard the second strange phrase I'd heard in the past 60 seconds. "Deoch." I couldn't stop looking at her, but I raised the cup to my lips, gagging it down in a single swallow.

"Good." She took the cup from my hands, and I suddenly grunted in pain. The skin on my abdomen was moving. The Fuck? I watched in disbelief as the skin around the wound started moving together. I could feel it happening under the skin as well.

(Claray's POV)

Natasha's wide eyes snapped up in me in disbelief. I looked at her smiling. For some reason that I couldn't quite understand, I couldn't stand the thought of her hurting, and if there was anything I could do to minimize that hurt, I was going to do it. Her mouth gaped open. Healing could be painful, depending on the severity of the wound, and I empathized. I could take the pain away from her too, but that would be going too far. Such a thing would be dangerous – perhaps even fatal – for both of us. I crouched down on the balls of my feet beside her, lightly resting my hand on her knee. "It's okay," I said, just barely above a whisper. Before I knew what was happening, her hand was on my cheek, and she kissed me. I pulled back instantly. This made no sense, for many reasons. "Diochuimhnich," I croaked out, instantly rising to my feet. I lowered her shirt over the now-gone wound, gathered the used bandages and threw them away, out of sight. I then leaned against my desk a few feet away from her. "As much as I always enjoy our visits, Agent Romanoff," I began, having to clear my throat multiple times. "I have some work to do."

"Of course." She stood, gracefully moving away from it towards the door. "I'll see you around, Claray." I smiled, lifting my hand lightly in a wave.

"I don't doubt it."