A Shot Through The Heart (Book 1 of Love, Monsters and Magic.)

Chapter 7

Natasha made the conscious decision that she wouldn't go the training room knowing fine well that, if anyone came looking for her, it would be the first place that they would look. Especially Barton. Instead, she headed down to a disused storage closest that she had found just after she had moved into the Helicarrier. It was an unlikely place one would expect to look for a master assassin and so it made for a good refuge in times like these, small but with enough space that she could sit on the floor with her feet against the back of the door. She told herself that she needed time to herself and she did. She needed a little time to put things into perspective, it wouldn't be long until they were told it was time to suit up. It wasn't so much that she minded the missions and the anticipation before a firefight but this time it was different. She needed to be alone. All the worrying that she had done over the last three weeks had very suddenly became reality for her. She was the Black Widow, bred and conditioned to be a weapon. But that didn't mean that now, after everything, that she wasn't allowed to be afraid. She was still human, after all. Loki was back and he was coming for them with a renewed fire after his first attempt on the city. Even though Thor hadn't necessarily said that, he had in not so many words. The threat was clear as day. Thor cared deeply for his brother, through all the trials and tribulations Loki put the Demi-God through but Thor had to know what would be expected of the Avengers this time round. The Avengers were all that stood between Loki and what he wanted. The Avengers would be charged to bring Loki down by any means necessary. He would want revenge and revenge wasn't something that the demi-god took lightly. This wasn't going to end without blood spilled.

Her head felt as though it was swimming. She just wanted to wake up. She just wanted to wake up from the horrible nightmare that she so quickly found herself drowning in. She wasn't afraid for herself, Natasha Romanoff wasn't known for being a coward. She had found herself in worse situations than these on a number of occasions, the odds certainly haven't been in her favour but that was something you learned to take with a pinch of salt in this line of work. Before S.H.I.E.L.D. there was no one to care about. She had been trained to harbour no fear. Death was inevitable. But it wasn't her own safety she was concerned for. She was afraid for Clint. If anything happened to him, she thought, it would be my fault. She had shown weakness the time she had found herself face to face with the god of mischief. Love is for children, Natalia, don't stop telling yourself that. If she told herself that often enough, maybe she could begin to believe it. A little rattling on the closet door startled her from her reverie.

"Natasha, let me in," came the voice on the other side of the door. She didn't recognise the voice right away,it was muffled and quiet. "Come on Natasha, it's Tony. Let me in."

"Leave me alone, Tony."

"If you don't open the door then I'm just going to have to go and get the suit and open it by force," he told me.

"You do any such thing and I'll make sure you wish you'd never been born, Stark."

"So I'm Stark again? Come on, Natasha, open the door." She was silent for a moment. Tony had become a major thorn in her side since the moment she was assigned to him all those years ago, when Ivan Vanko was a threat. But even through the lies of who she truly was then, and her mission from S.H.I.E.L.D. Tony hadn't taken it too personally. In fact he made the crazed attempt at becoming friends with the Widow. She hadn't ever had friends. She was the weapon of the Red Room for most of her life, she didn't even realise she needed a friend until Barton. Until Stark. With a huff, she clicked the lock open on the door and brought her legs to her chest. Tony slipped in and sat beside her on the floor, throwing his rm loosely over her shoulder. A gesture that would have cost anybody else their arm or potentially even their life. It seemed all so out of place. It was unnerving for Tony to see the Black Widow wound so tightly.

"Look at me." Begrudgingly, she lifted her head to glace at him once. His face was serious but it grew soft as he watched her. "We've all going to be okay." He said, but she gave him a look that made him understand in an instant. "Clint is going to be okay." He tried again in a somewhat futile attempt to reassure her as he pulled them both up to their feet.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm walking you to your room. You're still wearing that dress, in case you forgot and where I'm more than positive that you could take down a megalomaniac in a dress as tight as that, I don't think Clint would be too happy if it got ruined," he smirked before continuing on. "Plus you look exhausted. You need to sleep, we need to be on our guard at all times now and we can't do that with you passing out on us. Only I can run on nothing but scotch and black coffee. I'll hear all about your... date when you wake up," he said with a soft smile on his face. He had a point; she was still wearing that dress that clung to her like a second skin and she truly couldn't remember the last time that she slept well so, waving the white flag of surrender, she allowed herself to be pulled up to her feet and to be escorted down the hall to her room. At her door, he gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze.

"Get some sleep, and don't keep yourself up all night," he warned her, and turned on his heel leaving her alone once again. Entering her room, she slipped the dress down her body and pulled on a Black Sabbath t-shirt that she stole from Tony and climbed under the covers of her bed. Curling up into herself, she found that it didn't take much before she drifted into an effortless sleep while her hand slipped under her pillow and wrapped itself around the hand gun beneath it.

That night, Natasha dreamt. She was running. She was running so fast down a vaguely familiar street, her surroundings whipping past her as she sped onward. Her breath burned in her throat, her heart racing but she couldn't stop, wouldn't stop. It was the middle of the night, and the cool night air washed over her body as she went, never slowing down, never stopping. As she reached the end of the street, she realised that she was in Manhattan. She was in the same place Clint had taken her on her date. She took off into the park, along the tarmac path. Coming to a sudden halt, she threw herself into a cluster of shrubbery almost as if she was hiding from someone or trying to at least. Sharp branches stuck into her skin but failing to penetrate the thick leather of her cat suit. Her hand gripped tightly around something familiar. Looking down she saw a black-hand gun nestled perfectly in the palm of her hand.

"You can't hide from me, Natalia." A voice rang out, piercing through the still night time air. She hissed at the name, a link to her past, a link she thought was long since dead. She closed her eyes tight and held her breath tight. "Come out, dear, I'm not going to hurt you unless I have to." She dared not move. A cold sweat broke out across her forehead. She couldn't seem to put a name to the voice calling out to her, but a burning feeling in her gut told her that she should be very afraid. It was quiet. The voice stopped calling out into the night air. She took a quick breath to relieve the burning in her lungs when a strong hand pulled her up and out from her hiding spot. She twisted out of the grasp and shot in the direction of her pursuer. He raised a hand and the bullets simply froze in mid-air before dropping unceremoniously to the ground. Her breathing accelerated and her heart rate went through the roof as she stood there and took in the details of the man standing before her. Her stomach was doing all it could to find a new way to make her sick at the sight of Loki, the God of Mischief standing tall. His emerald green eyes bore into her own as he took a step forward with a devilish grin plastered across his lips. He was dressed in the same attire as he wore the last time they had met, a black suit made from leather with green straps and gold buckles. All he was missing was his horned helmet, his flowing green cape and his spear. For every step towards her he took she mimicked him with a step backwards until her back collided with a tree trunk, the sharp bark digging in and Loki continued to stalk forward until he was inches away and towering over her.

"My dear, I do believe I have you. You will come with me, to Asgard."

"I won't go anywhere with you," she spat back at him.

"Oh but you will. You are mine," he growled at me. "You will come with me to Asgard and stand beside me as we watch them fall at our hands. We will watch the destruction of the nine realms. I will be a King, a ruler, throughout the lands and you," He moved in close to her, whispering in her ear, placing his hands on her hips and pinning her there against the tree, he continued. "A remorseless assassin, will rule the nine realms by my side as my queen." She squirmed, trying to get away from his grasp as the last two words rolled from his tongue. My queen. He pushed away from her and she woke up, panting, her forehead streaked with sweat. She made a quick dash from the bathroom and threw up, Loki's words making her sick to the pit of her stomach.