Chapter Text
Natasha stalked through the familiar halls of the Helicarrier, a woman on a mission. She curled her hand into a fist, her nails digging into her palm as cold fury burned through her veins.
As she approached the medical wing, and the VIP bay itself, she heard Dr. Goodnight already amid an argument with one of the world's very worst patients.
Maria's voice carried down the hall, firm, straightforward, and a touch annoyed.
Natasha threw open the doors to the medical bay, heart beating in her mouth, eyes seeking to find Maria.
Coulson only told her that Maria was hurt after she'd boarded the Quinjet back to the Helicarrier from Novosibirsk. When he could ensure the line was secure and nobody might overhear about the clandestine relationship between the Black Widow and the Deputy Director of SHIELD.
Even then, he wouldn't tell her how hurt Maria was.
Just that the fucker responsible, Loki, apparently, had magically brainwashed Clint and Dr. Selvig, and then the entire facility had blown up and fallen on Maria's head.
Her Maria. Her Masha.
Not only had this idiot taken Clint, but he tried to take Maria, too.
Her fists shook.
She's alive. She's still alive.
Somehow, maybe just that lucky, or that stubborn. Natasha saw the photos of the sunken in crater where the SHIELD research facility had once been. Maria's vehicle trapped near the end of the tunnel, equipped with a roll cage that saved her life.
There were survivors - and then there were those who didn't make it out in time.
Maria was on one list and could have very easily been on the other.
I wonder how long it will take Loki to realize he's motivated the wrong people against him.
I am highly motivated, she thought as she drank in the sight of a battered, furious, very tired and very alive Maria.
She sat on an exam table in her SHIELD uniform, covered in dirt, dust, and other detritus. A deep gash ran from her hairline to her ear. Her usually composed expression was twisted in frustration, in pain, as blood trickled down the side of her blood-stained face like macabre war-paint. She was flushed, disheveled as she rubbed at her knuckles and glared at their most trusted physician.
"Damn it, Goodnight, there are people out there that need care more than me. It's just a gash, head wounds bleed more. I don't even have a concussion this time!" Maria insisted, her voice carrying that commanding edge that Natasha so loved. But it was tainted with exhaustion and irritation that came with pain.
"Oh, I didn't realize you'd received your medical degree! Congratulations. Where did you do your residency?"
The sharp, antiseptic scent of the bay stung Natasha's nose as she took a deep breath, hoping to calm herself. But the smell of blood underneath, Maria's blood, made her stomach roil and her hands shake anew.
She could taste it, iron and adrenaline sour across her tongue.
"Listen, I'm sorry, but there are agents trapped and some new threat running around in a horned helmet with a weapon that… I don't have time for this," Maria said, her blazing eyes fixed on the doctor and lip twisting with defiance.
Dr. Goodnight - Luna to them - crossed her arms, her mint green scrubs rustling and dark hair swishing in its ponytail as she shook her head. "With respect, Deputy Director Hill, I'm the head physician here and I get the honor of making the call about your health, including this latest head wound. You need to sit still and let me do my job so you can do yous. That gash needs stitches... ma'am."
Nat gave in to her desire and stormed the last few steps to Maria's side, making her presence known. "Maria, stop arguing with Luna before she tranqs your ass again. Hell, I'll do it for her."
"Oh, great, now it's both of you. I'm the one that needs reinforcements," Luna grumbled and rubbed at her forehead.
"Nat!" Finally, Maria's icy blue eyes met Natasha's. She smiled brilliantly, and then sheepishly as she looked back at Luna. "Ah... Please don't dart me again. Nat recorded it for blackmail."
"It's one of my most treasured recordings," Natasha said. She raised a hand to brush her fingers along the non-bloodied side of Maria's face. "You just had a damn building dropped on your head. You're important to me, so please let the doctor fix you."
She said the last bit in Russian, to keep it private, but Luna rolled her espresso dark eyes anyway.
"Yes, dear," Maria said. Her smile turned lopsided as she turned it on Natasha. "Welcome back?"
"Welcome to something," Natasha said and pulled her hand away so Luna could get to work on those stitches. She winced along with Maria at the first stick of the lidocaine needle. "I'm just glad you're okay. Coulson told me what happened, but left out most of the details. I had to go digging on the flight back."
"It's like he's a spy or something." Luna smirked over at Natasha and then did a double take. Her eyes narrowed in and Natasha had to fight off the urge to squirm. "Natasha..."
"It's a flesh wound. Barely more than a scratch." Nat eyed the exam table and then turned so she was angled toward the exit, ready for a quick getaway. "You should see the other guys?"
"Agent Romanoff," Luna said in a drawl. "Maria might find that tough act charming, but I don't. You have a split lip and bruising on your face, probably a fractured orbital socket, at least let nurse Pryor look at it."
"It isn't necessary." Natasha waved a hand. The muscles in her thighs twitched. Her fists itched. Ready to run or to fight at the perceived threat of… procedures. "I'm fine."
Luna raised a dark, immaculately sculpted, thick eyebrow. "Excuse me? How about you sit down. You just told the Deputy Director, Commander of this Helicarrier, she isn't allowed to argue, so neither can you. Honestly, you two. If it wouldn't cause more trauma and so much paperwork I would have you on nitrous, at least, every time you came in here. From the get go."
"But -"
"Nurse Pryor, I need your assistance in the VIP bay for your favorite patient." Luna took her finger off the call button and smirked at Natasha. "I'm not playing, and you know Chantelle doesn't play either."
No, she does not.
Natasha loved Chantelle. Adored her. With her mischievous personality, New York accent, and wild, curly hair, sometimes barely restrained in sunny dark-blonde pigtails - she was a breath of fresh air for the medical staff. Especially, given Natasha's history - having a friendly, but stern, middle-aged black woman taking care of her made her feel... safe. Better. Chantelle was so vastly different, so far removed, from the Red Room doctors and the Nazi's that had experimented on her growing up. The very same craggy-faced, leering demons that popped up in her nightmares from time to time.
On the worst nights she could remember the scrape of instruments against her bones, or the stinging fire of the needle piercing her skin and pushing poison in.
"Natty? Hey, honey, you're going to have to sit down now, okay?" Chantelle said, breaking Natasha's diving thoughts from sinking any deeper. "Sit down so I can get a look at that busted lip of yours."
Natasha blinked away the darker memories and kept from jerking as Chantelle left a hand hovering near her shoulder. "Sorry."
She saw the chair Chantelle was gesturing at and quickly perched on the table next to Maria instead. The warmth of Maria's body was near enough to bleed into her skin through her tac suit. As close as she could get for the time being.
Their hands found each other, fingers intertwining. Natasha's thumb dragged gently across the scars mapped out on the back of Maria's hand.
A reminder of sacrifices made.
"Chantelle," Natasha said and smiled wide despite the bloody lip and sharp rip of pain. See, I'm fine. Look at these bloody teeth and tell me I'm not fine. "How's your wife?"
"She's good, she's amazing as ever," Chantelle said with a warm chuckle as she tilted Natasha's head with soft hands. "I did hear some grumblings about the engine room this morning, something about peak efficiency, but so far nobody's showed up with a bloody nose courtesy of Amelia."
Natasha hummed. "Just hope she never has to meet Tony Stark. What about your mother?"
"Still the boss," Chantelle said, caramel eyes warm as she turned Natasha's head to poke a gloved finger at her cheek. "Tiny little cut here. Let me guess, backhanded with a ring?"
"Exactly that." Natasha nodded, and Chantelle stepped away from her exam.
"I'm going to put some stitches in that lip."
"Okay," Nat said with a shrug.
She sat still for a moment, watching Chantelle's back and feeling Maria's presence seep into her, washing out some of the anxiety that had stricken her at Coulson's apologetic explanation. Her eyes shut and she drew a long lungful of air, waiting to feel the stretch in her chest before she slowly let it all back out.
It's fine. You know Chantelle - she tells you things. Things you could use to hurt her, if you wanted. She knows the kind of person you have been. That's trust. There's trust here. She won't hurt you.
Maria's right here, too. She's right next to you. It's safe. Home. You're home.
She's alive.
You'll get Clint back.
"Nat." Maria's voice cut through, resonant in Natasha's ear. "Are you okay? Really?"
"I could have lost you," Natasha said quietly in Russian, while looking at Chantelle's curious face. "I can't lose you, Masha, I was a mess last time and it was only temporary."
She squeezed Maria's hand gently, conscious of the near constant pain and aching in those battle-worn hands.
"I'm here. You're here. We're together," Maria said back in lilting French. "I'm sorry I worried you."
Natasha shook her head and sighed when Chantelle approached with supplies and a thoughtful, slightly rueful expression. "Don't apologize, but maybe don't get anymore facilities dropped on your head, yeah?"
Maria laughed softly. "I'll do my best."
"Good." She arched an eyebrow when Chantelle tilted her face up and presented a tiny needle.
"Lidocaine."
"Go ahead," she said and hummed at the brief stinging burn of the needle puncturing her already annoyingly painful wound.
"What happened?" Maria asked, switching to English. She continued to wince as Luna kept working at the deep, long, and jagged cut. "I only know the basics of the op."
"Just an interrogation," Natasha said once Chantelle stopped fussing at her lip. "It really wasn't that bad. I was almost done when Coulson called. The other guys look way worse."
"Of course they do," Maria said with a nod. She smiled down at Natasha as Luna finally stepped away, stitches complete.
The pride in her expression filled Natasha's chest with warmth. She would have grinned back if only Chantelle wasn't stepping in to thread her own stitches.
It took a lot of effort to keep from raising her lip into the numb pressure and tugging sensation of Chantelle's quick, sure work.
"There, that should help it heal faster." Chantelle pulled away with a final tug, tie, and snip of scissors. She shook her head at Natasha. "You're already a quick healer, I know, but I have a feeling you shouldn't be running around with an open wound on your mouth. There's shenanigans afoot."
Natasha smiled up at her with her numb lip. "I appreciate it."
"If that's all, Doctor Goodnight?"
"Yes, thank you, Nurse Pryor," Luna said and waved a hand from where she was digging through a cabinet. "I'll do the paperwork."
Chantelle reached up to squeeze Natasha's shoulder and then quickly left the VIP bay.
Natasha poked at her lip, amused at the non-sensation on such a sensitive spot. She turned to Maria and leaned in. "Hi."
"Trouble," Maria said with a soft laugh. She angled her head and, mindful of their injuries, gently kissed Natasha on the non-stitched side of her mouth.
It was a soft hello, an unspoken I love you.
Natasha traced her free finger's along the line of Maria's jaw, careful to keep her touch light because of the mottled bruising under Maria's pale skin.
They parted, but not far. Maria bumped her forehead against Natasha's and smiled as her eyes fluttered open, so close to Natasha's own. "Hi."
The scent of antiseptic and sweat lingered in the air, but underneath it was a more familiar aroma - the subtle scent of Maria. Citrus and lavender. Natasha could pick it out in a crowded street. She licked at her lip and smiled at the taste of chapstick, a hint of mint and bitter black coffee.
Home.
Luna cleared her throat. "Right. If you two are finished, I'd like to finish patching up the Commander sometime today. And Romanoff, for fucks sake, you have stitches."
Natasha leaned back, keeping her hand firmly clasped around Maria's, and winked at Luna. "It's not the first time, Doc. We know how to work around a split lip."
"Not the worst thing, or even the worst stitches," Maria added, and wrinkled her nose. "The hand surgery wasn't fun."
"Which time?" Natasha asked and grimaced. She didn't enjoy thinking about the many injuries to Maria's hands. The years of boxing that hadn't been kind to her knuckles. The shrapnel injuries that led to her first surgery to remove glass and metal shards. It was a wonder she could use her hands at all. Then the hammer…
She dragged Maria's hand up to kiss her knuckles.
"I'm fine," Maria said, expression softening. "I didn't mean to upset you. I was just joking."
Luna grumped to herself in Spanish about pigheaded, self-sacrificing morons too noble for their own good while she raided her cabinet of goodies. "That reminds me."
Natasha cleared her throat and held Maria's hand between both of hers, pressing some warmth into the abused and rebuilt joints. Someday she'll have cyborg hands, probably. "Maria, I'm sorry I wasn't here. Coulson told me you'd been hurt and Clint - that some greasy haired weirdo had taken Clint. I should have been here with you."
"Hey, no." Maria shook her head and ran her free fingers across Natasha's cheek. "You had your own work. This is the job, and I'm okay. A little banged up, maybe, but I'll live."
Natasha pressed their joined hands to Maria's chest. "Pot."
She drew their hands to her own chest and rested them against her heart.
"Kettle. Yeah," Maria said, with a roll of her eyes. Her expression quickly sobered. "I'm sorry I couldn't stop him from taking Clint, Nat."
"We'll get him back." Natasha frowned and rubbed her thumb against Maria's hand. "He's still in there, you know? He just needs some help. I know you're formidable, Maria, but Clint doesn't miss unless it's on purpose. If he didn't take you out, it means there's still a part of him in there that's fighting for control."
Maria nodded. "We'll bring him home."
A fierce love surged through Natasha's veins. "Damn right we will."
"Here we go." Luna approached with a pleased grin, a jar of Maria's medicated cream in hand. "Let's get this on your hands before you two run off to save the world."
She unscrewed the lid, the soothing scent of menthol and lavender wafting through the air.
"I have this," Natasha said and quickly snagged the jar from Luna's hands. "Thank you."
"Yes, thank you." Maria winced as Nat applied the numbing cream, rubbing it into her aching hands with meticulous care. "I owe you."
"No, you don't," Luna said with a laugh. "It's like I'm a doctor or something. I'm going to get some coffee and then see my next few hundred patients. I trust you two can see yourselves out?"
"We'll be out of your hair before you get back," Natasha said.
Luna left them to it, sitting side by side on the exam table, the weight of the world momentarily off their backs.
Natasha leaned her head against Maria's shoulder. "Fury wants me to go after Banner. To bring the less-than-jolly green giant in."
Maria's shoulder tensed. She turned her head and brushed her lips against Nat's hair. "Oh. He didn't say anything about that. You'll... be careful, won't you?"
Natasha smiled. "Of course. I'll be fine. You've got your hands full, too, getting the Helicarrier into the action."
"Yeah." Maria sighed. "Then, I guess I'll see you when I see you?"
"You will." She reached for the jar of numbing cream and set it in Maria's lap. "Don't forget to use this while I'm gone."
"Promise," Maria said, and then rolled her eyes with a coy little smile. "Well, I promise I'll try."
Natasha forced herself to hop off the table, away from the warmth and solid feel of Maria right next to her. She circled back around and cupped Maria's face, pulled her up as she leaned in for a last kiss goodbye while they were still safe from prying eyes.
Maria's lips were soft and warm, offering one more moment of tenderness in the midst of the chaos of their work.
When she pulled away, her heart ached with a mix of longing and determination. She met Maria's gaze and touched her fingers just below the stitched gash.
Nothing else needed to be said. She nodded and then turned away, Maria's face always in her memory. Her mind latched on to the new mission, the danger and possibilities. She had to get it done, find him, bring him in, and then they could get Clint.
With a steely resolve, Natasha strode purposefully back through the corridors of the Helicarrier, her footsteps echoing against the metal floors.
The weight of Maria's dog tag rested against her chest, a constant reminder of the love she carried with her. Natasha's fingers brushed against the cool metal, drawing strength from its presence, tucked away and hidden against her heart. She knew the risks she was taking, the dangers that awaited her, but she was undeterred.
There was work to do, a ledger to balance, and she would not shy away from it.