The Trial of Bruce Banner

Out

Natasha lingers at the door of her jet, tapping the side of a familiar metal.

"Make contact once you land," Fury stands at the base of the entry with his hands at his hips.

"I will," she reassures.

"Treat her well. She'll return the favor," he mutters in reference to their decrepit jet, "Hill can shield you as far as the Atlantic."

Natasha nods, standing in front of her director-turned-mentor turned savior.

"Thank you," she mouths.

Fury dodges her remark and tucks his chin as he circles the airfield. Looking up, he raises an eyebrow as if for clarification;

"She's waiting for you?"

"She is," Natasha states pointedly.

Fury receives her words and continues, "Good luck, Nat."

Romanoff takes it as her signal to focus on her jet and subsequent flight path.

She heads for the seat meant for the driver and flicks her switches with unwavering focus.

Her knobs are turned, and her buttons are pushed as she reaches for her headset.

Clint stands out on the airfield alongside Fury with their hands on their hips.

Natasha swallows away distracting tears and rotates a knob in front of her.

The now blonde looks over her shoulder toward her girl over the sun blaring in her eyes.

The view of Rebecca playing innocently with a hulk plush provides Natasha with the boost she needs to continue forward.

The band-aid visible on her daughter's knee reminds her of Rebecca's fragility and the need for medicine. The continued visits to the ER have a chance to cease if she plays her cards right.

Despite what the courts say, despite the scientific minds targeting her husband's ingenuity may say, Rebecca is far more than a clone. Rebecca Yelena Banner is Natasha's daughter. And she is worthy of a full life. Despite her research, Natasha feels less than qualified to approach geniuses on the topic, unsure of her position in a world full of cloning and scientific experts or what the future entails.

Despite all thoughts of feeling lesser than, Rebecca's survival remains the priority. Should there be a solution to her daughter's blood cell count, should some scientist put forth a solution for her frequent injuries and overactive heart, Natasha would take any solution.

She grits her teeth and puts all energy into her daughter as the aircraft begins its route for take off. Natasha flips a switch as if to say goodbye to her home.

She hits another as if it were a farewell to the Starks, to Morgan.

To the Barton children who have called her 'Auntie' for years. Natasha wipes the back of her wrist against her nose.

Clint Barton and Fury watch the take-off with pure waves and forced smiles.

A welling of emotions boils up in her core, and she remains hesitant to part ways with families who have stood beside them since Rebecca's creation despite the jet's direct line for takeoff.

Natasha glances out her window toward the figures, which grow smaller and smaller as her jet speeds forward until the wheels eventually lift from off their path as she sets her course for where Bruce believes the answers can be found;

Scotland.

"Mommy?"

Her eyes lift, checking in on her daughter and the calm puppy at Rebecca's side;