Avenger or Assassin? (UNDERGOING HEAVY EDITING)

Not Yelena!

{Steve}

I had never seen Natasha like this. I wanted to help her but she wouldn't let me close to her. She was terrified of hurting me. We're going to have a meeting today to figure out where Yelena was, and I was taking her, but first I had to convince her that the medicine was working. She was down in the training area, punching the living daylights out of a bag. She hadn't taped up her knuckles well. The bandages were falling off, but she continued to beat the swinging pillar nonetheless. I wasn't sure how long she'd been down there but by the looks of her knuckles probably a long time. She was focused, the rage obvious in her green eyes. They flashed emerald, contrasted to her red hair and pale skin.

"Nat, stop!" I shouted. It was like she hadn't heard me. She continued to rock it, putting every ounce of anger or whatever it was fueling her into her punches. She'd gained back her weight, which was good, but she still had so many scars, everywhere. She wasn't in her tactical suit, just a white tank top and black leggings. "Nat!" I shouted again. She flashed a warning glance in my direction and struck the bag harder. I threw myself into her, knocking her over. "Natasha, stop. You're hurting yourself."

"It helps me focus. Get off of me," she said, pushing me off. She stood to punch the bag again, but I grabbed her arm and spun her to face me. She grabbed my wrist, and pushed a gun against my head.

"Natasha, what is wrong with you?" I asked.

She didn't say anything, just stood there panting as sweat dripped off of her forehead. I moved and she kicked me, keeping me down. I decided push went to shove and I barreled into her. We ended up sparring, chasing each other around the training area. She knocked over training mats and weights and I pulled a punching bag off of its hook and threw it close to her. "Natasha, stop this," I said. She wouldn't talk to me. I noticed she was using her left arm as little as possible.

"Stay away from me!" She shouted, and I ducked a fist to the face.

"Why are you like this? Why won't you talk to us?"

"I don't know, Steve," she said. "Maybe I'm just terrified of hurting you guys. Maybe I'm terrified of feeling things. Maybe I can't handle the fact that I've become what I never want to be again! Maybe I'm not okay with the fact that I-CAN'T-FIX-IT! Maybe I'm just sick of living in constant terror! The physical pain might be gone, but not the mental. AND IT WON'T EVER BE. I've locked myself up into a mental prison. I live in a box in my head. The lock's rusted. Steve, I'm terrified of everything right now. I-" she was sobbing, sweat mixing with tears.

"You what?"

"I love you, Steve, and if I hurt you, I'll never recover." She turned away from me, hiding her face behind the coat of red hair.

I put down my shield and pulled her into my arms. She resisted, pulling away and trying to get out. "I don't want to hurt you!" she said.

"Bruce gave you the serum. You're okay, Natasha. I'll get some sand for that rusted lock. You just have to be prepared for pain. I'll help you, Natasha. I'll be right there by your side the whole way.

"It's not the pain I'm worried about, it's you."

"I promise you I won't die, okay?" I said. She looked at me, her eyes puffy and red. Her white tank top was soaked with sweat and the bandages on her hands were covered in blood. "Now let's go clean up your hands. They're going to get infected." I pressed the bandages against her hand, putting pressure on it and stopping the bleeding.