Chapter Text
Months of rigorous training and a cutthroat elimination process had secured you a position upon the Avengers team, though you had still believed it to be that of a miracle. Fury had assured you that this wasn’t the case, your success attributed to your valiant dedication and thus he had arranged for your participation in an upcoming mission.
The night prior to your first mission, you had barely slept, a combination of doubt and apprehension festering inside of you. It had clouded your mind so much that you had resigned yourself into staying awake instead, the sting of the sunlight piercing your eyes, riddled with exhaustion. Admittedly, it was not your best decision, though the adrenaline that rattled through every vein in your body seemed to render you alert, your nervousness penetrating the composure that veiled your exterior.
Observing yourself in the mirror only reiterated the insanity of the experience you were about to undergo, hands brushing over your new outfit in disbelief, an official Avenger. You knew that the performance of your maiden mission would determine the rest of your career, the pressure manifesting in the form of a heavy weight atop your chest. The stark anxiety was quickly passed off as bubbling excitement, a technique that you had learned early on in training to avoid becoming too amped up. Though it seemed to have been more successful when the situation was hypothetical. This was real. Now, your actions held meaning, had repercussions and had the potential to change the course of others’ lives.
When Fury had initially requested your attendance, you had assumed that a misunderstanding had occurred. Sure, your catalogue of abilities was distinct, but even you had trouble controlling them sometimes. A large part of you remained self-conscious of your skill set, rebuffing Fury in the hopes that he would simply replace you with another candidate until something less important came around. But he had simply batted your doubts away with his hand, an unreadable smile tugging at his lips. Inevitably, your doubtfulness had been contagious, bleeding out into the team as well as you heard the stifled voice of Agent Romanoff in Fury’s office.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?”
Natasha’s voice, albeit muffled from the membrane of the office door sent your nerves into overdrive, only fuelling the uncertainty that you felt inside.
“Romanoff,” Fury warned lowly, his expression appearing in your mind’s eye, having been on the receiving end of it a few times already.
A long sigh emanated, loud enough for you to make it out amidst the fleeting silence and made you wonder whether you were truly ready for what was ahead. Perhaps you were out of your depth after all.
“Fine,” Natasha conceded with blatant reluctance, relinquishing only as a means of adhering to her orders. “But I’m not a babysitter. If she can’t handle this then it will jeopardise everything.”
Nausea rose and fell within you, your fists screwing tightly as you attempted to will it away. You were torn between barging in to state your withdrawal and embarking on the mission purely to prove yourself worthy, to spite her.
A chair squealed against the flooring below, Fury assumedly manoeuvring to stand to his feet.
“I wouldn’t underestimate her, Romanoff,” he advised, the confidence inherent in his voice calling what was left of yours into existence. “We all had to start somewhere, even you.”
A tiny smile lingered in the corner of your lips, only to be bitten away in haste as heavy footfalls approached. The door abruptly flew open, crashing audibly into the wall behind it as you jolted in position. Natasha regarded you with narrowed eyes, her taut expression soon ebbing out into that of sheepishness as she noted that her pessimism had been overheard.
“Let’s go,” she insisted, flatly as she presented a set of keys, the jangling sound retreating along with her as they dangled from her hand.
Confident strides led you to an armoured vehicle, installed with an array of weapons for combat. You had recognised it as being the same model as the ones you had trained in, though the circumstances had been vastly different and evoked a newfound feeling. Your heart thumped rapidly within your chest as your hand reached out to grasp the door handle on the passenger side, your efforts stymied by Natasha. Abruptly, she hurtled the keys into your direction, a hum of surprise falling into the air when she noticed that you had caught them without thinking.
“Not bad, newbie,” she remarked with a half-smile, strutting over to the passenger side to replace your position. “Let’s hope your driving is as fast as your reactions, hm?”
The previous tension was hasty in its dispersion, the introduction of lighthearted conversation beginning to deflect your attention away from the seriousness of the mission. It appeared as though you had misjudged Natasha, soon finding comfort in her presence.
“Yeah,” you hummed, a flash of boldness passing over you as you stuffed the key into the ignition. “Wouldn’t want you to have to babysit.”
Natasha chuckled warmly in response, her head shaking lightly as you brought her words back into re-emergence, haunting her with jest.
“Oh, come on,” she scoffed, fighting to weasel her way out of the situation that she had caused for herself. “I was kidding.”
The tires screeched as you pulled away from the headquarters, amused by her blatant failure at deception.
“You know, you’re a terrible liar,” you mused, your attention recaptured by the GPS system as you programmed in the desired location.
Natasha feigned offence, her elbow propped against the tinted window as she maintained your gaze, a humorous overtone filling the surrounding space.
“I make up for it in other ways,” Natasha defended, her eyebrows tugged upwards as a means of emphasis, though you merely shook your head in faux rebuttal.
“Let’s hope so, Agent Romanoff.”
The rumble of the vehicle engulfed the persisting silence, the city sights flying by the window as you sped further away. An inward battle continued inside of you, the anxiety that you had packed away soon rearing its ugly head as the destination grew nearer. Every minute that deducted from the journey time seemed to drag you further and further into your thoughts with no escape, the doubts resurfacing once more.
“Nervous?” Natasha questioned, the mere clarity of her voice prying you away from the chaos that had claimed you.
You gulped audibly, the answer evident from the way your features had been subconsciously disgruntled into a frown for the entire duration. Instead, you ignored the question, a flitting look towards Natasha disclosing everything that she needed to confirm her assumption.
“If you’re anything like Banner told me, I trust you,” she disclosed, the comment seemingly intended to instil you with confidence, though it merely filled you with more questions.
“Well,” you spoke, curiously. “How did he describe me?”
Natasha hummed to herself, noting your interest as she sank back into the black leather of the seat.
“A Maximoff,” she admitted, her head tilting to decipher your reaction.
Instantly, your jaw flexed as you exerted every effort to prevent the laughter that rumbled up from your throat. Pietro had been instrumental in your early training, a healthy rivalry existing between the two of you due to the similarity of your abilities.
“Something like that,” you replied, casually, not wanting to reveal too much in the hopes that you could bring about a surprise. “Only faster.”
Confidently, you pressed the gas pedal to the floor as a means of reiterating your prior statement, Natasha jolting softly in place as she readjusted to the increase in speed.
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” she laughed, softly, her face moving closer to the window as to discern your surroundings, the location inching into close proximities.
Natasha’s head swivelled to study the buildings on your side, her exhales felt against your cheek as she surveyed with unparalleled attentiveness. Gravelled roads brought you to a collection of desolate warehouses, each one practically torn to the ground with the exception of one. A lone digit poked outwards, reaching across your body as Natasha’s lighthearted demeanour fizzled out, replaced with an apathetic one.
“Pull in here,” she instructed, bluntly, her hands tracing atop her outfit to confirm the presence and functionality of all of her equipment, her fingers fiddling with her earpiece.
The gravel crunched beneath the tires as you halted the vehicle, noting the existence of two other cars partially shrouded by a heap of jagged bricks and abandoned materials.
“We’ve got company,” you acknowledged, your head nodding in the direction of the vehicles and observing as Natasha’s irises visibly darkened, assassination mode clearly in activation.
“Well, it’s Hydra,” she scoffed, her hands making quick work of loading her pistol as she grasped it tightly. “I’d be disappointed if we didn’t.”
Her head nodded in the direction of your gun, still securely in the holster as she gestured for you to mirror her action. Hastily, you complied as you both prepared to ambush the building, her green eyes sparking with intent as she met yours.
“Take out the target,” she commanded, purposefully, her attention reclaimed by the front entrance which stood between two barricaded windows. “I’ll handle the associates.”
The sole of Natasha’s boot threw the car door wide, following suit as you, too exited in the knowledge that turning back was not an option. You raced with intent towards the entrance, observing in your peripheral as the redhead disappeared to survey the back of the building. Alone, you felt impotent, but a flitting look towards your uniform and Fury’s words playing in your mind brought you back into focus, teeth gritted as you burst inside. Pondering was not a luxury that you could afford, your gaze flitting rapidly around until it settled upon a lone inhabitant. In a split second, you had raised your gun and discharged three shots, observing with a thumping heart as the lifeless body slipped to the ground as if he had been liquified. A deep exhale escaped from you, relief enclosing until the emergence of gunshots called your adrenaline back into activation. You felt foolish to have believed that the mission had concluded, the clamour of shouting indicating that it had only just begun.
With your gun erected in front of your body, you manoeuvred cautiously towards the origin of the raucous, soon finding Natasha in the midst of combat with several associates. An unwavering apathy descended upon you, smoke fizzling from your pistol as you attempted to disband the assailants. One by one, you subdued them, their eyes bulbous in a mixture of pain and disbelief as they clambered to the ground below. Natasha grappled furiously with the remaining two men, the intricacy of her movement denying the chance of a clear shot. Your eyes were narrowed, consumed as you rushed to insert yourself into the wrangling, only to be thrown viciously to the floor for your efforts.
“I’ve got this,” Natasha yelled, her heel launching outwards to deliver a brutal kick towards one of the aggressors. “Get in the car! Go!”
Every atom inside of you screamed in refutal, unable to bear the guilt of forsaking her amidst all of the chaos. Her strength was indisputable, but you also knew that she would rather die in vain than admit that she was overpowered.
“I’m not leaving you, Romanoff,” you maintained, dragging yourself from the concrete as you raised your gun once more in the hopes of finding a window to make your move.
Natasha’s mouth opened, though no words fell from her, one of the attackers having subdued her, his arm cinching around her neck in a chokehold. You screwed your eyes together, frustrated as your powers failed to rouse from their hiding place despite the growing need for them. Instead, you ran head on, arms flailing as you came into contact with the second attacker, momentarily prying him away from the blows he was unleashing upon Natasha. You dodged and weaved with tactility, tight fists hurtling towards you as you jostled to immobilise him. And just as you thought he had succumbed, the attacker grinned sinisterly, the room slowly filling with a thick white smoke that obscured the entirety of your vision.
Coughs and splutters exuded from you on a continuum, your arms waving the smoke away from you to no avail. Fear whipped up and took you under as you lost a visual on everything around you, including Natasha. You could hear her voice, stifled rasps and chokes leading you to where you had assumed her to be, though the murkiness of the air denied any confirmation. Your arms reached out desperately, the sound of heavy footfalls retreating causing your heart to halt completely.
“Romanoff!” you screamed out, your lungs burning not only from the sheer volume of your voice but from the irritation of the smoke. “Romanoff, where are you?”
“I’m… here,” Natasha’s voice was meek, strangled as you battled to locate her, your efforts thwarted by a noise that instilled an incomparable terror.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
“No, no, no,” you chanted, tensely, pushing forcefully through the smoke with unparalleled desperation.
You knew the sound, knew that in a few seconds the room, if not the entirety of the building would come crashing down on top of you.
“We need to get out, now!” you exclaimed, the dread oozing from you as you exerted every effort to stay calm to no avail.
The lack of reaction from Natasha only furthered your anxiety, wondering what state you would find her in thereafter. But you had no time to process, nor to imagine, your mind solely focused on a hasty exit. You wouldn’t leave without her.
You scrambled around, your hands inspecting every surface that you came into contact with as the smoke ebbed out into translucency. And there she was. In the nick of time, you dragged her into your arms and vanished out of the building, your super speed ability finally activating as you opened your eyes to find yourself beside the car. Natasha’s body was like deadweight in your arms, though you didn’t let her go for a second, dropping to the floor as the building exploded in the near distance. You had been lucky, but judging by Natasha’s condition, you weren’t sure how far it had extended.
Gently, you placed her down in the passenger seat, her eyes rolling in and out of consciousness as the life drained from them. Proficiently, you unzipped her outfit, noting the existence of a knife wound on her chest, blood seeping profusely as your breath hitched at the severity.
“Abort, abort,” you asserted as you tapped your earpiece. “Romanoff’s hurt, we’re coming back.”
Forcibly, you swiped a large shred of material from your outfit and put the car into autopilot as you lodged the wad of material against the cleft in her chest. The car growled, maximum speed persisting as tears began to brim from your eyes.
“Stay with me, Romanoff,” you encouraged, a faux smile playing on your lips as you attempted to retain her consciousness. “You’re going to be fine.”
The shred of material was sodden with blood as you moved to tear off another one, Natasha’s pupils bleeding out into the surrounding iris as they stared blankly ahead. You maintained a harsh pressure, little whispers of encouragement spoken towards her despite the blatant futility.
“Come on,” you pleaded as you thumbed at her cheek. “Please.”
Natasha’s fingers lifted gently as she attempted to take a hold of your wrist, as if she was urging for you to let her slip away. And then, they fell limply to their prior position, your eyes obscured by tears as you sobbed.
“I’m not letting you go,” you insisted, though you didn’t know who you were trying to convince, the reality of the situation too much to bear.
Amidst your attempts to rouse her from unconsciousness, you had failed to realise that you had arrived back at the headquarters, medical personnel racing towards the vehicle. Within moments, they were prying her from your grasp and loading her onto a gurney until she disappeared into the building. You shook violently in place, your eyes glaring in disbelief at the blood that stained your hands, an all-encompassing sense of defeat falling atop you.
“What have I done?” you asked aloud, your fingers moving to enclose your face as you panted into the abyss, recalling the mission in your mind.
Suddenly, a warm hand rested itself upon your shoulder, your head raising to find Fury stood beside you as you remained fixed in the vehicle.
“I failed,” you admitted, meekly as you cast away the tears that littered your cheeks, salty trails burned into the skin there.
Fury shook his head, administering a little squeeze as a means of comfort, though it had been futile in battling the melancholy that drowned you.
“No,” he refuted, softly. “If you hadn’t saved her, she would have died out there.”
Courageously, you allowed yourself to meet his gaze, your irises riddled with guilt, with regret, though Fury appeared deficient of anger.
“What’s the difference?” you scoffed, wistfully, unable to erase the image of an unconscious Natasha from your mind. “She still might die.”
Fury hummed, pensiveness finding home upon his features.
“You gave her a fighting chance,” Fury disclosed, a purse lipped smile toying at his mouth as you dropped your head back into your hands. “And you know, Romanoff. She will fight, it’s what she does best.”
You paused for a moment to ponder his words of wisdom, sighing when you arrived at the reality that it hadn’t made a shadow of a difference. There was only one way to absolve yourself of your regret, to ensure that this was not a reoccurrence.
“I can’t put anyone else on the team at risk,” you insisted, exiting the car as you buried your hands into your outfit, presenting him with your arsenal of weapons. “I’m not cut out for this.”
Fury rebuffed the attempt with avidness, his hands high in faux surrender as he stepped backwards.
“So, you’re going to give up?” he questioned, disbelief swirling in his orbs as he gazed towards you, clearly hoping to appeal to your rationality. “Just like that?”
You nodded, a long sigh hailing from your lips as you pressed your weapons into his hands, your seriousness forcing him into acceptance this time.
“It’s what I do best.”