Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Steve and Natasha share a moment after narrowly escaping the bunker.
• • •
All Natasha Romanoff could recall was the ominous computer simulation of Zola telling her and Steve, "Unfortunately you shall be too dead to hear it."
She didn't remember the missile blowing up the military bunker, the building crumbling to ruins and catching fire. She didn't remember Steve clutching her to his side as he protected them with his shield. She didn't remember the S.H.I.E.L.D helicopters flying above, searching for them as agents hunted for them on foot. She didn't remember him saving her life, but she knew he had, and she owed him.
Big time.
As if she didn't have enough red in her ledger and a lifetime of debt to repay.
She'd awoken to him clumsily setting her down in the passenger seat of the truck they'd stolen before he got in himself and sped away before the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents even noticed them. Luck had evidently been on their side for seemingly the first time that night.
It took an extraordinary amount of effort to even open her eyes and look at him who clutched the wheel with his jaw set. The ringing in her ears was just as intense as her headache, and her entire body was sore.
A building had literally fallen on them yet he still looked like an Adonis God. It wasn't fair, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to punch him or kiss him for it.
"Glad to see you're awake..." He said to her, perceiving that she had finally awoken from her dazed state. He merely glanced at her, his azure eyes focusing on the winding road ahead.
Her throat was too dry to muster a response. She closed her eyes and with a soft groan, she dropped her head into her hands. It hurt to think, to try and comprehend exactly what the computer had been talking about. It hurt to think that she couldn't just call Fury and demand him to explain what was going on.
Everything hurt.
"Вы сделаны из мрамора ... нерушимы." [You are made of marble... unbreakable.]
Did Madame B. not consider marble could crumble every time she spoke those damned words?
The words echoed through the ringing in her ears like nails on a chalkboard. The Red Room had certainly taught her a lot of things but not how to handle her aching heart, no matter how much she tried not to think about Fury's death. She had never been taught how to curve her inclination for Captain America but that was an issue in its own entirety.
Her stomach began to churn and her palms began to sweat as she thought of all the events that transpired in the last forty-eight hours. Specifically her kiss with Steve. "Steve, pull over." She mumbled under her breath, grasping onto the door handle and hauling herself up from her slouched position in the seat.