The chopper was ready to go by the time the last enemy was killed. Rotating blades spun overhead making the air cold and filling her ears with aloud thumping noise.

An explosion-was that the third or fourth today?-rang out and she barely lifted her head in time to see the facility go up in a red fireball. Valkyrie and Bruce, in human form again, strode out of the flames like big damn heroes, not looking back. Valkyrie had been teaching them all how to be more "badass" and not looking back at cool explosions was lesson number one.

Natasha had to admit, they did look cool…. And then they high fived. She rolled her eyes. Of all the people in all the world, she'd ended up with these two dorks.

Valkyrie, blood splattered across her face, hopped up into the passenger seat-"I believe you midgardians call it 'shotgun'? I call that," she'd said-and Bruce climbed into the hold at the back.

Headphones in place, they took off.

"How's the leg?" Bruce asked over the crackling coms.

"Hurts like hell. How's the shirt?"

"Gone. You know, it's always ripped off, but my pants always fit, it's weird. Like, what happens there? Is my waist just that much smaller than my upper…"

Valkyrie cut him off. "I prefer you with your shirt off."

Bruce didn't respond, instead rustled around in the back searching for the extra set of clothes he'd stashed there just in case. She smiled, imagining his cheeks turning a bright red

"Also with your pants off. Both off," Valkyrie added.

The helicopter lifted under Natasha's hands, following the line of smoke up into the otherwise clear blue sky. As they rose the world expanded outwards revealing red clay and golden fields of grain and a tiny sliver of grey road snaking between them. Beyond, the sun was making its long journey towards the lip of the world.

She steered in an arc, away from the setting sun and towards their home, or at least what constituted a home these days, in New York. They had an 3 hour trip back and miles to go before they slept.

Maneuvering was incredibly difficult with only the one working leg and the pain shooting up from her other leg-it was certainly broken. But years of training had taught her to ignore and push through. Strong. If she had been a teenager again, she might even have forgotten the pain entirely; how her old commanders would laugh at her now for her weakness. But she didn't need to forget it entirely. She only needed to be distracted. She reached a hand over and put it on Valkyrie's arm. "Tell me a story."

Valkyrie looked over, surprised. Usually Natasha was telling her to stop boasting so much. "What would you have me tell?"

"Something true," Natasha said.

"One time there was a goat…"

"We've heard that one before," Bruce said, throwing the remnants of his old ripped shirt at Val's head.

"Well, it's a good one!" Valkyrie protested. "Fine, fine. Once there was fearsome bear with claws this.."

"Heard that one before too," Natasha said, enjoying the opportunity to tease the proud, legendary warrior just a little bit.

"Impossible! The both of you!" Valkyrie cried, throwing up her hands.

"Tell me about when you escaped Sakaar," Natasha said.

Natasha loved this story, loved to hear about how Val took down a ship mid-air, how Bruce let Hulk out when he was truly needed, and the looks they shared upon recognizing each other. Hearing about them so strong and powerful made her proud. And she loved hearing about her own small role in the story, how her voice still calmed Hulk all those years later. Maybe it was vain, but she didn't care. For the three years Bruce was gone, she'd been lonely. Full of rage and sadness, she'd thrown herself into her Avengers work, saving the day over and over and over until it felt meaningless.

Hearing the story was a balm. She had been saving Bruce-and Valkyrie by proxy-even when she hadn't known it was happening. And they were the only two it mattered to her to save.

When she sat the chopper down, the story was long over, and Bruce was asleep in the backseat. Val had turned on music-Norwegian death metal-and was bobbing her head quietly. As the rotator blades came to a slow stop, Val and Bruce got to work unloading the chopper.

Natasha tried to get out of her seat on her own, but the 3 hours of sitting, driving the helicopter had done nothing to help her broken leg and she half stumbled, falling from the seat.

Val was there to catch her.

"You want to hear a true story?" she said, adjusting her in her arms once again. This was getting to be a habit.

"Sure."

"I love you," Val said. "That's a true story."