Captain On Ice

Chapter 6

"CLEAR!"

Natasha blinked.

"Okay, start compressions again!"

She stared ahead, her face stone, fixated on the group of men surrounding her Captain.

"We need blood! Now!"

The yelling and around her faded away, and all that was left was the constant ringing in her ears while her eyes were locked on the unbelievable sight in front of her. She registered movement to her right, but she ignored it. She was torn between brooding and grieving, trapped somewhere between the two emotions because Steve was dead. As much as they tried, she knew they couldn't bring him back. She'd seen it in the field dozens of times, and a realist Natasha was.

"WHERE'S THAT ADRENALINE?!"

Her gaze focused on Steve's eyes, desperately hoping to see movement - a flicker, even - despite reality gripping her shoulders and shaking with all of its might. She snapped out of her trance when she realized that someone was speaking to her.

"-eed your blood, Natasha."

Clint.

It was hopeless, and she knew it, but she let Clint take her blood anyway. She didn't know Steve's blood type, but it didn't matter; she was O-negative. Again, she remembered that this didn't matter, either, because Steve was dead. She let herself be ushered to a desk and laid herself flat, eyes now staring up at a blank, boring, white ceiling. She faintly registered the feeling of a needle entering her skin, Clint holding the empty blood bag near the ground so gravity could do its work. Somehow, she knew he was speaking to her in a gentle, kind voice that was unfamiliar to her. She didn't need it, nor did she want it. She was Natasha Romanoff, not a child, and Natasha Romanoff was gone, lost in her thoughts as the constant beeping of the flatline sent her away.

It was Steve and Natasha's first mission together. The objective was simple: gather intel in any means necessary. Much to Steve's dismay, the plan involved Natasha being "kidnapped," a strategy that was so Natasha that Steve shouldn't have been surprised. Much to Natasha's dismay, Steve insisted he be there to watch in case shit hit the fan. She didn't need a babysitter. She could handle herself.

It took the idiots much longer to realize she was a spy than she anticipated. After the first hour of following the men, she expected the target's security to spot her. She wasn't being careful, but she wasn't being too obvious either. After the second hour, when the men, who had by then arrived at a nightclub, still hadn't noticed her, she made her way over to them. She became the temptress that the world expected from the famous Black Widow; apparently, though, her fame was overhyped, as her strikingly beautiful face only rang a bell in one man, who insisted she appeared in some adult films he had seen.

She made an effort to pry into her target's personal business, crossing the line of unacceptable to the point that should have raised suspicions about her curiosity. After the third hour, she began to talk about the Avengers and the attack on New York in hopes that she could spark their memories. After the fourth hour, she had had enough. She violently flipped her now-blonde hair back behind her ear, revealing the earpiece that she had been sporting.

Unbelievably, they still hadn't noticed; she had never come across anyone so incompetent, including the man's security, especially when she was being this obvious. She glanced across the room at Steve, who had somehow found his way into the VIP section - how, Natasha did not know, for she was stunned for a moment - and was being swarmed by beautiful women, clearly having felt uncomfortable in this situation from the very moment they entered the club. Fuck it, she mumbled to herself, and she turned to the her target. She went to scratch behind her ear, purposely causing the earpiece to drop directly in to the man's lap. Natasha feigned surprise, appearing to stammer in confusion that it wasn't hers, and she held back the smile that threatened overtake her because she had them eating out of the palm of her hands.