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Dante opened his eyes to an uneven rocky ceiling. Somewhere nearby, a small bonfire let out pops and hisses, casting shadows across the jagged walls.
He lay on his back beside the fire, with his head resting on a "pillow" that was basically a wad of grass mashed together. It was crude, but a lot more comfortable than hard stone. Natasha had tried hard.
What he couldn't wrap his head around was the state of his body. Why was he lying half-naked on a bunch of grass? What did Natasha do with his shirt?
A faint notification flickered across his vision.
[Resonance Link (Death): 15.2% (Level 2)]
The quick growth in Death's link made him want to sigh. He couldn't even bring out one percent of her power because of his weak mind. Death's powers put immense pressure on the soul and mind. And right now, there wasn't any enemy that required that level of power. The Spirit of Vengeance was something he couldn't kill, unless he acquired Death's complete authority over every life in the multiverse. She wasn't any ordinary spirit, after all.
"Dante," Venom spoke in an annoyed voice. "Why fight that lunatic?"
'You were watching? Why didn't you say anything then?'
"I…" Venom hesitated, which was rare. "We do not like that form."
His Death Resonance form had traumatized Venom, perhaps more than Norman ever did with his physical torture.
'It turned out fine in the end.'
"We're on a different star. Surrounded by hostiles. Powerful beings."
Which was, admittedly, the very definition of not fine. Then again, they had Death's Cloak to hide like mice staying motionless in their burrows while hawks circled in the sky.
'It's me and Romanoff against the world. Won't you protect us?'
Venom snarled, "We were born to protect. A lethal protector we aaaare."
'That's my good boy.'
"Hah." Venom made a noise that might've been out of satisfaction or embarrassment. It was hard to read Venom when it wanted to hide its thoughts.
He pushed himself up and stretched his arms. "Where did Romanoff go?"
As if her name had summoned trouble, distant footsteps echoed through the cave's winding passage. Then stopped with a heavy thud.
"Natasha!" He yelled, yet there wasn't any answer.
He leaped over the flames and rushed through the twisted pathways. Around the corner, he found Natasha collapsed on the ground, one arm tucked awkwardly beneath her.
'No way.'
He dropped to his knees beside her and shook her shoulder. Receiving no answer, he slid an arm beneath her shoulders and turned her carefully, guiding her head onto his thighs. Her breathing was shallow but steady. At least she was breathing. Her burning skin and flushed face signaled something had definitely gone wrong outside.
Her eyelids fluttered. "Dante…?"
"Don't speak."
He tapped into Elixir's link. His biomolecular energy had recovered enough to help her. Taking her hand in his, he let his awareness sink into her system.
His expression darkened.
He saw micro-tears in muscles and inflammation around ribs and abdomen area—possibly the result of overusing the Spirit's powers. They weren't serious but posed a severe risk if ignored.
'Red Room really ripped out her uterus and ovaries.'
He shook his head at the tragedy and spread the search to her entire system.
Then he found the root cause of her current condition circulating through her blood.
Toxins. Alkaloid compounds to be more precise. It was non-lethal, but potent enough to trigger aggressive inflammatory responses.
Her body treated the compounds and spiked her temperature, and at the same time, activated every defensive protocol it had. Weakness, dizziness, fever, and confusion were the result of her immune system overreacting.
Her condition could be easily treated on Earth with some care, like a fever that would eventually leave once the body adapted.
The alkaloids couldn't have spawned from nowhere.
He noticed a black pouch not too far from her feet. A piece of his shirt tied together. He reached over and opened it carefully. Bright red berries with glossy skin spilled on the ground. Only mildly toxic in small amounts but accumulated when consumed in a large quantity.
The whole scenario became clear.
Natasha got hungry and found these berries. When she found out they weren't "poisonous", she tore his shirt to use as a makeshift pouch so she could bring them back for him. Unfortunately, the toxins took effect on the way back.
He couldn't even call her stupid for experimenting with wild berries. She hadn't eaten anything after dinner last night—or who knew how many nights passed in his sleep. The hunger would be worse for Natasha, someone on the peak human-level, requiring more sustenance per pound than an average person.
Natasha's lips moved weakly. "Dante…"
"Yeah?"
Her hand fumbled her pocket. Her hand fumbled in her pocket as she withdrew a sleek black phone with the SHIELD logo stamped on its back. She tried to push it toward him with shaking fingers.
"A phone? What do you want me to do with it?"
It was honestly a miracle the thing had survived. His own phone had disintegrated into ash during the fight. It might be Nokia model.
"Hand it… to Phil." Her voice squeezed out with difficulty. "For Yelena…"
He sat his butt on the ground. "What if I don't?"
She blinked her eyes, confused and… hurt at his indifference. "Please…"
"Why don't you ask your Spirit for help?"
She shook her head and gazed at the ceiling, too weak to answer.
But he understood it right away.
Death's cloak had limited range. If the Spirit forced her to go beyond, she would bring another disaster. Even with everything she had been through, she had chosen suffering over making another mess for him.
'Does that demoness know Natasha's condition isn't critical?'
Her current condition wasn't that different from poisoning. Natasha must have mistaken it for poisoning, which prompted her to pass her phone like a last will.
'Whatever.'
He put his hand on her shoulder. "How about asking me for help instead?"
She had quite literally called him out for having healing magic when he fixed Laura's nausea from teleportation. It hurt him a bit that she'd rather die than rely on him.
Her head snapped to him as she gave him a wide-eyed look. "You can?"
His skin glowed golden. The toxins were purged from her system in an instant. Her breathing eased in a few seconds. The flush on her face started fading, color returning to normal.
Natasha blinked slowly, sat up carefully, and rubbed her left arm. "110th day my will went unused."
"You really wrote one?"
Natasha kept her eyes on the SHIELD device in her lap. "In case the berries were more toxic than me."
Making light of every situation was classic Black Widow behavior.
She looked up at him. "Sorry my head wasn't working. I completely forgot about your powers."
"It's alright."
"Mhmm, I appreciate your help. I thought I'd kick the bucket right here."
"It wasn't poisonous. Why do you think I wasn't panicking?"
She arched her eyebrows in surprise. "I cried for nothing. What a shame."
He patted her shoulder comfortingly. "How long was I out?"
She checked the time on her phone. "Twelve hours, seventeen minutes, and thirty seconds. Give or take."
Less than he had expected after overusing Death's powers. The number made sense with his heightened recovery speed.
"How long since you ate anything?"
She ran the clock in her head and answered, "Around twenty hours."
"That explains the recklessness."
She gently punched his arm. "I ate one and waited three hours. I'm not stupid, okay? I was desperate."
Her trial and error were useless when the berry's toxins only took effect when consumed in a large quantity.
"How are you feeling now?"
"I'm hungry, my throat is dry… Still a bit weak in the knees." She brushed her thighs and chuckled. "The caretaker is going to need help. Isn't that ironic?"
He tapped her arm again. With another burst of golden glow, he healed her internal injuries and flushed out all the negative effects that came from dehydration and hunger.
Natasha leaned back fully and stretched her arms over her head with a soft, involuntary sound of relief. The black bodysuit pulled tight, bringing his attention to where he really shouldn't check out.
She let out a soft moan at the pleasant feeling in her muscles. "It really is magic."
"It's science."
"Magic is just science we can't explain with our current understanding." Her lips curved into a faint smile. "Take phones for example. Back in the 1600s, they would've called it black magic and burned me alive for it."
"The media will do that for you today." He stood up and offered her a hand up. "Did you watch JJJ yesterday?"
He had watched it live during dinner. Suffice to say, he was thoroughly entertained with how much J. Jonah Jameson downplayed their work in saving Roosevelt Island and only highlighted the property destruction.
Natasha took his hand, then immediately slipped it free once she was standing, letting out a frustrated groan. "He called me Skullfire's Bride thirty times in three minutes. That ought to be the world record."
He laughed softly. "You can stop me from saying that, but you can't stop the world."
They began walking back to the bonfire. When they arrived the fire had already died down to embers.
Natasha crouched and tossed a few dry sticks into the coals. She snapped her fingers. "At least be useful as a lighter."
Flames burst around them and conjured a burning skull. The Spirit's close proximity to the bonfire helped light it up.
Natasha looked into the Spirit's eyes. "I can stop JJJ, by never becoming a Ghost Rider."
"You won't abandon me, my sweet child. How else will you fight the symbiotes? With your hands? Guns? They are useless."
Natasha threw a punch at the Spirit's face, into the burning flames. The Hellfire morphed around her fist, careful not to burn her. "What's the point of using your powers to solve a problem if you'll create another?"
"My hands are tied, Romanoff," the Spirit said with a chuckle. "I must punish sinners to recover my demon form. And don't you want to get out of here?"
"How?"
The flames drifted to his side. "You have a talent in sorcery, which will translate finely into demonic magic. Learn it, and you'll be able to conjure portals to any dimension."
"Will it let me visit Limbo?"
He still hadn't forgotten his promise to Piotr.
The Spirit let out a cackling, demonic laughter. "Death is coddling you like a child. She wouldn't bestow such deep knowledge upon you. Just who are you?"
"I'm a reader," he said with a calm smile. "How long will it take?"
"For someone with Sorcerer Supreme-level talent?" The Spirit's tone turned almost playful. "A week."
He gave her a blank stare and went back to his seat where he had slept. His soul would heal in two or three days. He wasn't going to sit around to learn demonic magic when he could find a way to use the Bifrost to return to Earth.
The Spirit hovered around them, practically begging for their attention. When both of them ignored her, the flames went poof and unraveled into nothing.
Natasha let out a sigh and rubbed her face. "Feeling any better?"
"I can throw hands with your Spirit again."
"Not happening. I'm never letting it take over."
"Her," he corrected her. "Your Spirit is a woman."
Natasha stared at him for a moment, then let out a surprised laugh. "A real playboy knows his territory."
Having two girlfriends gave him quite the reputation. Well, he didn't really care as long as Silvija and Felicia remained unaffected.
"Did you spot any wild animals? I'm craving some meat."
Natasha glanced towards the mouth of the cave. "Wolves and boars the size of grizzly bears. Probably magical creatures. I'll kill to have some juicy steak and vodka."
"Magical meat." He licked his lips. "Any rivers around?"
The food problem could be solved. The water problem couldn't be. Using Biokinesis to stay hydrated would do more harm than good.
Natasha gave him a blank stare. "The mountain we're on is surrounded by water. Like all the others."
"One of the streams should flow through. Natasha, you secured the shelter. Leave the food and water to me."
He would've let Natasha rest if Death's cloak had unlimited range. Unfortunately, they had to stay within five hundred meters of each other, or Odin and Heimdall would zoom in on them.
"I'm not a picky eater. But I won't say no to magical meat." She tried to appear calm, but the way her throat bobbed betrayed her hunger. "As long as it doesn't make me go boom."
"Your Spirit will save you."
"Who will save me from her?"
He tapped his bare chest. "Your groom."
She gave a mischievous smirk. "And who will save me from my groom?"
"Me." Death manifested in a sitting position around the bonfire, as if she'd always been sitting there. "I'll save you from him."
He reached and grabbed her arm, pulling her next to him. "I owe you so much."
"Companion," she whispered. "You could've asked if you wanted a hug."
"I'm always in need of those. Anyway, how is everything over there?"
She leaned her head against his chest. "Most of your predictions were on point. Did you start a link with precognition?"
"Nope. I'm more surprised you couldn't see it."
Death should be near-omniscient (all-knowing) and nigh-omnipotent. Yet, the one in love with him seemed to be weak. A lot weaker.
She put her hand on his cheek. "Do you feel this?"
"Warmth?"
He nuzzled his face in her hand. The slightly provocative look in her eyes made him pause. There was more to it. Death wanted him to solve that mystery. He replayed all of their moments together over and over until the solution came to him.
"Wait a damn minute. When we were in your realm, your skin was cold. What changed?"
The first time he had felt warmth from her was during their mall date, where he blew fifteen grand in one go.
She grinned. "You're right. This is a temporary vessel."
"But why?"
"To make sure I do not break the balance in the heat of emotions."
"Death…"
He leaned down and kissed her forehead. Maintaining the cosmic balance was her whole purpose as Death. The fact that she could be moved enough to worry about destroying it for him said more than any hollow words ever could.
"It means a lot."
Death nodded with a humming sound. "This is what it means to be a companion."
A sharp throat-clearing came from the side, reminding the couple they weren't alone in the cave.
Natasha stared at them with that mildly annoyed expression. "Can I sue you for being lovey-dovey on someone else's property?"
Death disintegrated in a surge of black sand, leaving him alone with Natasha.
He shook his head. "Romanoff, you'll need documents to prove you own this cave."
"What if I'm an immigrant?"
"..."
***
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