Chapter 26: Cracks In The Mask

Argh, my mind is so foggy...

I'm lying in a bed, looking up at an unfamiliar pasty white ceiling. 

Hmm. Unfamiliar ceiling. I've been saying that a lot recently. I sigh. How did my regular incel life turn into this...

I looked to my side, and my arm was in a cast. However, the pain that I could feel in my shoulder before blacking out was gone, with only a little numbness remaining.

I look towards the foot of my bed, and I saw two beautiful women staring at me. 

One of them is a blonde woman in a white nurse's outfit with... wings(?) fidgeting nervously and waiting for me to confirm that I'm alive or something. The other one, with shoulder length red hair and piercing green eyes, is leaning back on the wall with her arms crossed, glaring at me uninterested, though I felt like I could feel a smidgen of worry somewhere under that mask.

Before I could stop myself, a sentence slipped out of my mouth. "A-am I in heaven? Are you guys angels?"

Oh shit- I realize where I am. I probably blacked out during training, and I got sent to the nurses' quarters where they healed whatever hurt me. I shift and sit up, where both of the women's gazes lock onto me.

I realize what I just said, and a big blush burns my face. "Okay, forget I said that."

Doctor Ziegler, who now suspiciously has angel wings... Oh, wait, is she Mercy from Overwatch??? What the hell? I need to ask the system about this later...

Anyways, Doctor Ziegler, (or Mercy I guess) now not fidgeting anymore but now with a slightly flushed face, asks me if I'm alright, and Nat just says "If he can say shit like that then he's probably fine. Now shoo I gotta talk to this guy."

Mercy, still unsure if I need further treatment, tries to stay, but as Natasha gives her a glare, she quickly scurries out of the room, leaving the two of us.

-o-

After Mercy leaves, me and the Black Widow stare at each other in silence for a few minutes. I was a bit woozy from just waking up and I was scared of talking to her, and on the other hand she just didn't say a word and glared at me.

After a while, she comes to my side and sits down on my medical bed.

After another few uncomfortable minutes of silence, I try to break the it by opening my mouth, but she cuts me off immediately.

"Look, I'm sorry for dislocating your shoulder. If Angela didn't fix you up in time, your arm might have been permanently paralyzed." She sounds the slightest tinge remorseful.

"You WHAT?!?!" I expected she just stuck my shoulder or something, but she full-on dislocated it? what the fuck? I could've become half fucking vegetable!

She flinches the slightest bit. "Look, I've been a professional assassin all my life," she says, almost like she hates admitting it. "I'm not proud of everything I've done. A lot of it I can't even talk about. But muscle memory doesn't care about morals. When you grow up learning that hesitation gets you killed, it's... hard to turn that part of yourself off."

I was about to retort back in anger, but I breathed in and out and stayed calm and collected.

"I've only changed my ways very recently, and I've been working under shield for not even half a decade now. Half a decade is too short a time to change the instincts and muscle memory seared into my brain," she continued, sighing and running her hands through her hair.

"And I've only been doing this-" she gestures around, "... Instructor work for a few months."

"And during those few months of working, I've been through hundreds if not thousands of new recruits and even trained shield agents, and none of them have been even close to hitting me or even less, harming me, other than birdbrain, of course," she whispers the last part.

"And you were the first recruit to make me feel actual risk to my life, and my body just acted before I could think, and when you lifted me up, I put an armbar around your right arm, and popped your shoulder. I'm not trying to justify myself hurting you, but like- never mind." Her head dropped down, unable to make eye contact with me.

After another few minutes of silence, she gets up from the bed.

"You should probably sign up for a different instructor. I've failed my duties as one." Se says despondantly, and prepares to step out of the room.

She sounds like she's punishing herself more than I ever could. Not just for hurting me, but for being someone who could still do that.

And for a second, I don't see the cold Black Widow from the movies.

I see someone scared of all the blood on her own hands.

As if I would allow that to happen! I'm not tryna roll around all sweaty on the ground doing jujutsu with goddamn Clint Barton!

"...Wait," I call out to Natasha, reaching out for her arm, where I notice a red mark on her wrist from where I grabbed her earlier. Never mind maybe I don't want to grab her wrist again.

She still freezes in her tracks, though.

How am I going to convince her to keep teaching me!? I didn't plan this out!

"Look, Ms Romanoff, I don't know how to say this, but I still want you to teach me."

Great. That was a really good argument by me. 

"I feel like I'm already learning a lot from you, and to be honest? I'd like to continue."

She turns to face me again. No expression. Just those sharp, guarded eyes masking all emotion.

Okay, Alex. Don't blow this. If I can't make anything up, I'll just speak from the heart.

"I know I'm not the best. But that's kind of why I need you."

Her eyebrow lifts slightly, but she stays silent.

"You don't coddle. You don't pretend I'm doing better than I am. You don't lower the bar for anyone. You're... real. And I need that. I don't want to be someone who only gets by because people go easy on him." I think about the fight with Killmonger. Would I have been able to defeat him if he really tried to fight me, or did he go easy on me on purpose?

I pause, then gesture at my arm in the sling.

"Yeah, okay, maybe this was a bit much. But honestly? I learned more in that one fight than in months at the gym. You didn't just show me where I'm weak, you made me feel it. And now I know what I have to work on."

Her arms are still crossed, but the glare is softening.

"And about the arm thing… yeah, it hurt like hell. But if that's the price for learning from one of the best in the world, then... I'll take it. Just maybe, like, warn me next time you try to rip my shoulder out of its socket? Even if Merc- Docter Ziegler can fix it up, shit still hurts."

A corner of her mouth quirks upward.

I decide to go all in.

"Look... I don't want some cheerleader instructor who'll clap and give me a sticker every time I land a punch on a dummy. I want someone who can turn me into the kind of guy who doesn't get folded like a lawn chair in a real fight against a competent opponent."

I sit back, exhaling.

"So yeah, you scared the hell out of me. But I'd rather be scared now than dead later."

Another one of those long silent pauses happen. However this time, the Black Widow's expression is noticeably softer.

After a while, she snickers. "You talk too much."

I blink. "Wait, is that a yes?"

"...Tch." She walks back to my bed, stopping right beside me, an almost unnoticeable smile plastered on her face. "You want to keep training with me? Fine. But you better be ready to die, because I'm not going to make it any easier for you."

I gulp.

"Maybe I can still swap to another instructor-" I joke, but she just looks at me exaspirated, and boops me in the nose.

"You're not the first person to bleed under my training. But maybe you're the first who actually thanked me for it," she mutters.

Then, softer: "You've got guts. That's rare. Don't waste it."

She then cooly turns and walks out of the room, this time with her head held high.

Right before she leaves, she turns back, smirks at me, and says-

"Oh, right, stop calling me Ms Romanoff. Just call me Nat."

(a/n omgomg its like my first time writing like actual in-depth emotional dialogue for this fic- yall think it was ok? I also spent 4 hours in class today working on this chapter and last chapter instead of doing my current events assignment. It was supposed to be one long chap but I decided to split)