The Ghost [Marvel | Steve Rogers]

Chapter 31

"You don't get it, Stark," Ross objected dispassionately. "It's not yours to handle. It's clear you can't be objective." And Natasha's stomach twisted, threatening to sink as her gaze snapped from her absent observation of the techs working outside the conference room to Ross. She kept a firm hold of herself, though, halting the dismay and unease that threatened to furrow her brow. She would keep her head. She needed to keep her head and not let her emotions run the show. Too much depended on staying rational through this. "I'm putting Special Ops on this," Ross finished with an air of authority. And Natasha couldn't keep her mouth shut. That suddenly sounded like the worst idea imaginable. He had seen what had happened in Bucharest, right? It was a miracle no one had been killed.

"What happens when the shooting starts?" she asked, unable to quite keep the bite out of her voice. "What, do you kill Steve Rogers?" Ross fixed her with a harsh look. But Natasha wasn't cowed. She'd been capable of withstanding far more threatening looks before she'd even hit puberty...

"If we're provoked." Ross countered irritably, nearly glaring at Tony as her friend tenderly settled into one of the conference room's mesh-backed chairs. "Barnes would've been eliminated in Romania if it wasn't for Rogers. There are dead people who would be alive now. Feel free to check my math." Natasha's temper sparked, especially at the blunt admission that the plan had never been to take Barnes alive. Oh, she was very tempted to check his math...

If it hadn't been for Rhodey stepping in, Steve, Sam, Barnes and Nadine would've torn through the GSG-9s as though they were no more than paper.

And really, they had been doing just that. Natasha had read the preliminary incident reports as they'd come in. There was no doubt that the GSG-9s sent in in Bucharest had been out of their league with Barnes alone, much less against all four of them. It was only T'Challa's interference that had held them up long enough to be cornered and brought in. If the Wakandan Prince hadn't been involved?

Natasha had no doubt the four of them would've long disappeared by now. And if they had?

There was a good chance the fiasco barely a couple hours previous wouldn't have happened at all...

Now wasn't that a seditious thought...

One she kept to herself, though she was only barely able to restrain the urge. Right as the thought might be, it wouldn't actually help anyone to say it aloud.

Mercifully, Tony spoke up, cutting Ross off himself before her thoughts had a chance to make a break past her tight control, giving her a chance to wrestle them back into submission.

"All due respect, you're not going to solve this with boys in bullets, Ross," Tony countered, fixing Ross with a hard look of his own. "You gotta let us bring them in." Natasha had to force in another calming breath at the way Ross only barely restrained fixing Tony with an all out scathing glare.

"How would that end any differently from the last time?" the Secretary challenged, his voice laced with clear contempt as he stepped forward to loom over Tony. Straightening, Tony's eyes flashed, his temper coming perilously close to breaking free. If the situation weren't so serious, Natasha might very well have been tempted to smile. Tony really had grown up. It had never been clearer than in this moment.

"Because this time, I won't be wearing loafers and a silk shirt," Tony declared tightly, meeting Ross' gaze head-on. "72 hours, guaranteed." Ross' eyes narrowed in thought. Natasha could practically see his mind working without even needing to see his face, balancing risk and reward and how likely he thought Tony was to get results.

She didn't like the way he was standing over Tony as he did.

"36 hours," he conceded. Natasha frowned. She very much didn't like how...accepting Ross nearly seemed. Frankly, she'd anticipated more pushback from him. But the feeling faded as he continued, a chill skittering across her skin. Her gaze dropped to her lap, her focus on controlling her breathing, suddenly fighting to keep her flash of unease and panic carefully hidden away. "Barnes," Ross listed contemptuously, beginning to pace toward the door, punctuating each step with a name, "Ryker. Rogers. Wilson." Natasha fought back the urge to react. Especially since she could feel Tony looking to her at the way Ross nearly spat out her sister's name.