Chapter Text
It was a stupid quibble, childish really, but Natasha jumped in and was arguing with everyone else. She felt obligated to defend S.H.I.E.L.D.’s position on the weapons research they were doing and the way they managed threats. The volume began to rise along with the tension in the helicarrier’s lab. Tony and Steve were about to come to blows, and everyone was beginning to worry about Bruce. “Agent Romanoff,” Director Fury said, “would you escort Dr. Banner back to his-“
“Where?” Bruce said testily. “You’re renting my room.” Natasha took a step toward him, ready to forcibly escort him if it became necessary.
“The cell was just in case-“ Fury began.
“In case you needed to kill me,” Bruce said, laying out the truth, “but you can’t, I know, I tried.” The room went quiet as everyone stared at Bruce. Natasha felt a little pang of sadness for the scientist. Up until then, she hadn’t really considered what his life must’ve been like, having to try to control the seemingly uncontrollable force within himself. She didn’t usually think about things like that, because it could lead to emotional attachment, and that was never good. “I got low,” he said, breaking the silence and crossing his arms, “I didn’t see an end, so I put a bullet in my mouth, and the other guy spit it out.” If not for her training, Nat would’ve winced. She wouldn’t ever tell anyone, but she could relate to being tempted by the allure of staring down a gun barrel. There had been times when she felt like a monster, too. “So I moved on, I focused on helping other people. I was good,” Bruce continued angrily, his hands beginning to reach behind him to the table where Loki’s scepter lay. “Until you dragged me back into this freak show and put everyone here at risk. You want to know my secret, Agent Romanoff? You want to know how I stay calm?” But Natasha’s hand was already on her gun, and a quiet swish to her right told her Fury had reached for his weapon too.
“Dr. Banner,” Steve said calmly before things could go any farther, “put down the scepter.” The tension in the air was almost electric as Bruce looked down and realized that he was indeed holding the scepter. No one moved, unsure what to do, but then a beeping came from the computer running the Tesseract tracking algorithm.
“Got it,” Fury said while Bruce hurriedly put down the scepter and walked over to the computer.
“Sorry, kids, you don’t get to see my party trick after all,” he said bitterly. Not bitter that he wasn’t going to transform after all, of course, but it was the tone of someone who was beginning to regret saying what they’d just said.
“You’ve located the Tesseract,” Thor said, and suddenly the quibbling erupted again, this time about where the Tesseract belonged, where it should go, what they would do, how they would get it, who would go. Natasha rolled her eyes. The testosterone in the room was stifling.
But among that, with the continued beeping of the computer, Bruce’s quietly horrified voice stood out. “Oh my god,” was all he said, as he looked up at the others. None of them even had a moment to question what he meant before an explosion erupted through the helicarrier, rocketing up through the vented floor of the lab and blasting Natasha and Bruce through the windows.
Natasha landed hard on a metal floor, surround by falling debris and with Bruce coming down somewhere beside her. They had ended up on a low platform over some kind of storage area on a floor below the lab, and her leg was pinned under a fallen hunk of metal. Her ears were ringing from the explosion, but in her earpiece, there was sudden chatter. When she heard Fury say her name over the com, she immediately tried to focus and clear her head “We’re ok,” she said, her voice hoarse. Then she looked over at Bruce. He didn’t seem injured, but he was clenching and unclenching his fists, his body tensing and straining, and suddenly Natasha wasn’t so sure. “We’re ok, right?” He didn’t respond. “Doctor?” He groaned, and Nat knew what was coming. She knew she had to quell his emotions, fast, else they’d be playing right into Loki’s hands. Not to mention she’d be in an incredibly dangerous situation. “Bruce? You’ve got to fight it. This is just what Loki wants. We’re gonna be ok. Listen to me,” she continued, her voice breaking with exertion as her lungs tried to return to their normal functioning level after having had all the air knocked out of them.
“Are you hurt?” a voice rang out, and she looked up to see two maintenance men coming toward them through the rubble. Added variables would not help right now, so she urgently waved them away. Comprehension dawned on their faces and they wisely turned and ran.
Natasha turned back to Bruce, but he struggling even more now. “We’re going to be ok, alright? I swear on my life, I will get you out of this. You will walk away and never ever-“
But Bruce turned toward her. And he wasn’t entirely Bruce anymore. “Your life?!” he shouted, his voice much deeper, louder, and more gravelly. His skin was beginning to turn green and his muscles began to expand, ripping through his clothes.
There was nothing she could do to stop it now, she realized, and survival instincts kicked it. But to get away from him, she had to wrench her leg out from under the rubble. Bruce writhed and rolled off the platform, growling, and then for just a moment, he turned and looked at Natasha. “Bruce?” she said, in one more desperate attempt to help him retain his mind. There was still something human in those eyes.
And then it was gone. With a mighty roar, the Hulk was entirely unleashed. He struggled to his feet and stumbled away from her, continuing to roar and bashing in some kind of tank which began spurting steam. Natasha continued to struggle with her leg, finally freeing it and scrambling up. She paused to look in horror at the creature before her and some part of her brain registered why Bruce would put a gun in his mouth, having to live knowing that this was inside him. The Hulk looked back over his shoulder and saw Natasha on her feet, then let out another great roar and began to charge toward her. She turned and dashed up a metal stairway, but before she reached the top, the Hulk ripped the stairs right off the floor. She leapt and grabbed onto the rail of the balcony above her, pulling herself up and running along a metal catwalk as the Hulk pulled out pieces of it below her. At some point, he must’ve come up against some sort of barricade, because for a couple minutes, she lost him. She kept running, but Natasha was unfamiliar with this part of the helicarrier and she didn’t know how to get out and to another level. She slowed down then, opting for stealth over speed, and pulled out her gun, comforted by the feel of it in her hands despite the knowledge that a bullet wouldn’t even dent the Hulk. Turning this way and that, she listened hard for any approaching footsteps.
Out of nowhere, there he was roaring. In an instant, her gun was leveled at him, out of instinct, but she reminded herself it wouldn’t do anything, and shot at a pipe above the Hulk’s head instead. It released a hiss of steam, enough to obscure his vision and probably painfully hot. She turned and began to run again. By this time, the shock had been in because of the explosion was wearing off and the leg that had been pinned under the fallen metal was beginning to throb, pain shooting through it with every limping step. The Hulk gave chase, and for his size, he was incredibly fast. He smashed through glass and metal like it was nothing, catching up with her in mere seconds and slamming his hand into her, throwing her hard against a wall. For the second time, the air was knocked from Natasha’s lungs. Her body was in agonizing pain and as the Hulk advanced on her, she realized she was feeling something she hadn’t felt in years: real fear.
This wasn’t something she was ever trained for. None of this was. It wasn’t just human violence. This was monsters and magic. This was aliens and war. She was a spy, not a soldier, and certainly not trained in X-Files 101.And for the first time in a very long time, and much to her shame, she was truly scared.
For a second, her instincts told her to call out for Clint – the only partner she’d ever really trusted to have her back no matter what. But she pressed her lips together. She wasn’t going to cry for someone to come save her. She struggled to her feet but the Hulk had her cornered. There was nowhere to go. But she couldn’t die now. She still had debts to pay. She still had to save Clint. She’d sworn that she would. She had to free him from Loki. She had to get out of this.
The escape plan her mind gave her was stupid at best, but it was her only option. The Hulk swung to hit her and she dashed forward, dodging his blow by leaping at the last second, bracing her foot against his arm and attempting to vault over him. But her injured leg failed her, and the Hulk reached up and grabbed her ankle before she could leap away from him. His grip broke bones and she cried out but it was nothing compared to the pain when he whipped her forward like a rag doll, smashing her into the ground.
She would’ve screamed but the sound that escaped from her lips was a squeaky whimper – all her body could muster as several of her ribs broke and one punctured her lung. The pain was blinding and she couldn’t move even when the Hulk reached forward and wrapped his hands around her neck, choking her. Tears leaked from her eyes as she gasped for air. No, I’ve got to… save Clint… she thought, angry at herself. But darkness was creeping into the edges of her vision as her brain ran out of oxygen and consciousness began to slip away.
Natasha didn’t believe in luck. She believed in skill and human stupidity, and that those two things were what put anyone in any situation they ended up in. It was her own fault that she was probably going to die. It was her own stupidity and her lack of skill. Still, for a second, she hoped that maybe she would be lucky today: that once she was unconscious, the Hulk would leave her be. That he wouldn’t keep squeezing until there was no life left in her body.
But Natasha Romanoff wasn’t lucky that day.