The Irony of it All

50

Natasha watched out one of the windows as the jet passed over the tropical rainforests of Africa. Her forehead was pressed against the cool glass as she leaned against the wall, her legs, criss-crossed in front of her, and her protruding belly settled in the nest shape she'd naturally made. Her son, finally active, seemed to be playing footsie with her. His limbs, she wasn’t sure which ones, pushing back when she gently applied pressure to her swollen bump.

The hours of night were long gone and the mid afternoon sun shined brightly in the distance. No one here on the jet had gotten much sleep. They’d had to stop for fuel at some point. Sometimes, she’d feel alright. Peaceful in the silence and warmth of the sun. And then she’d realize she was at peace and the memories and guilt came back. A cycle that never seemed to end.

She’d supplied Coulson with the coordinates of Wakanda, never to be put on Shield record. But it had taken Fitz some time to find a way to contact T’Challa. The coordinates wouldn’t do them any good if they couldn’t get past the barriers that protected the majestic country.
She was broken out of her reverie by the footsteps behind her. She turned to see Clint walk in and she sat up. “Steve?!”

“Fine. Good Lord, woman, relax.” He handed her a hot mug of herbal tea. “I’m about one dramatic, emotional sentence away from spiking this with vodka. Maybe that will get you to loosen up.”

She smiled stiffly, just slightly amused. “Thank you for that ever kind reminder that I can’t drink.”

He shrugged. “Talk to Banner. If the kid’s got its Dad’s serum, maybe it won’t hurt him.”

“I’ll pass, but thanks.”

He sat down on the bench seat, facing her. They were silent for a time, lost in the view outside the window. That is, until Natasha yelped. He turned to her, “You ok?”

“Yeah,” she breathed out, wincing again and rubbing her side. She set her tea down and leaned forward, taking Clint’s hand and pulling him towards her.

Clint watched as she placed his hand over her belly. She slid his hand around, trying to find the spot, and suddenly he felt it. He’d felt baby kicks before, but this wasn’t the usual little bumps vibrating through muscle and skin and through the nerves in his hands. It felt more like a punch. Not a grown man punch, but like how his 9 year old son would playfully hit him, sometimes hitting a little too hard. “What the heck,” he murmured. “Can you feel that?”

“Course I can feel that Clint. He’s kicking my liver.” She answered dryly.

“This is amazing,” he chuckled.
“Says you. He’s not kicking your vital organs like a mini super soldier.”

He laughed again. He knew Nat was pleased that the baby was finally moving around again. He was pleased. It meant that the little guy hadn’t sustained as grievous an injury as Fitz had feared. But he could also tell that as pleased as she was, she was also in pain. The bruises that littered her body from fighting no doubt already caused discomfort and her child didn’t seem to care much about the added pain he was causing his mother.

”You know,” he said, “At this stage the baby is about the size of a mango.”

Nat smiled. He could tell it was genuine because when she was smiling with joy, excitement, hope, or love, her lips pressed together tightly as if she was trying not to smile and failing big time - The very same smile she was wearing now. “That’s not very big,” she whispered.

“And yet he’s packing quite the punch.”

“I want to see Steve,” She whispered.

“I know.” He nodded. “But not yet. Banner and Simmons are keeping him monitored. His heart is still slowly growing back so it doesn’t have a pulse on its own yet. But I just spoke to Banner and he said his brain activity is increasing, which is apparently a good sign. It means his body is repairing the brain damage it sustained.”

“But I still want to see him...I just want to hear the heart monitor.”

He rubbed her leg in a comforting manner. “I get it, I do. But he’s still…” He gestured up and down his chest, trying to remember the medical terms or at least trying to think of something that would be accurate without being worrying. “He’s uh...They’re monitoring his heart growth and he’s still got Stark’s artificial pump on him so they haven’t...You know...Closed him up.”

She scoffed. “Blood doesn’t bother me.”

“It does when it's coming from someone we love.” Her lips squeezed together and moved from side to side, swallowing any response she’d want to make because he wasn’t wrong.

"I'll be right back," he said. She was alone for awhile. Alone with the peace of the sunrise. Eventually she turned to sound of feet coming towards her and she saw Clint, with Fitz, and Tony.

Tony sat across from her. "Clint said you were wanting to hear Steve's heartbeat. I have to say, that's pretty romantic for you, Red." She rolled her eyes. "Well right now that's not quite possible but we thought we'd give you the next best thing."

Fitz stepped forward. "May I?" He asked in his Scotch accent, holding up a strange little contraption.

She didn't know what it was but she trusted Clint. Actually, she trusted Tony as well. So she nodded her consent and soon the little funny pieces were being attached to four different parts of her belly. The young man handed her a little square box that resembles a speaker, and then tapped the top twice. And just like that a pounding, fluttering, heartbeat, like the sound of a hummingbird's wings slowed down, filled the room.

It was fast and loud. She got lost in the sound for awhile, her whole body tuning in to the vibrations and rhythm. When she looked up, Clint was smiling, Fitz looked in awe, and Tony's face was priceless.

"What are you thinking, Stark?" She asked softly. His face didn't change, still frozen in it's state of disbelief and awe.

"You know I don't believe in a god. Aliens seem to be about the closest thing I've seen to something super natural. But this...Even I can't wrap my head around how something so complex and incredible could come about by random mutations. Nothing has ever made me question everything I think I know...Not like this."

Clint laughed. "Welcome to the club."

"This is why I leave the biology to Jemma. Technology is so much simpler to understand," Fitz muttered.

Nat just smiled at her comrades.

"I'm not usually too helpful with this kind of stuff," Fitz said. "But even I can tell that he's got a really strong heartbeat. I'll take an ultrasound later but right now it seems like you've got a little one that takes after you."

"What do you mean?"

"We-ell, you're uh," he stammered. " You're strong. Resilient." She smiled, genuine and happy. Strong, huh? She looked down at her belly. Perhaps having a little partner in crime won't be so bad after all, malysh.