Here for a Terrible Time

Pained grunts echo throughout the concrete room. Bodies thud to the floor as a black and red blur moves fluidly through the air, incapacitating her opponents with deadly precision.

A beat later, silence.

Panting, the Black Widow takes in her surrounds, eyes searching for any potential enemies that may remain lurking just out of sight. Seeing none, she straightens from her low crouch.

She never wanted to come on this mission. The moment she received the assignment from Agent Hill, she had protested vehemently.

She couldn’t leave you so soon after everything that had occurred the night of the Gala.

At least… not like that.

Determined to complete the mission as swiftly as possible in an effort to return to your side and make things right before it became too late, the redheaded assassin infiltrated and incapacitated the residual Hydra base with a merciless, deadly grace that left little room for survivors.

Stepping over the unmoving bodies, she makes her way towards the exit of the underground bunker, pulling the communicator on her widow bites to her lips. As she steps out into the open air, she’s immediately assaulted by the chilling gale of a slowly forming blizzard swirling around her.

“Mission complete. Requesting evac,” she grunts as she pulls the zipper of her combat suit higher.

There’s a short pause before a crackling buzz cuts through the sound of the wind howling in her ears.

“Negative, Widow. An incoming blizzard makes current extraction too dangerous. Return to the safehouse and a jet will come in 0900 hours.”

She curses under her breath but indicates an affirmative before navigating her snowmobile back to the small cabin hidden in the mountain side.

Frustrated, she kicks off her boots in the entryway, before collapsing on the couch settled in front of an empty fire, cold hands cover her face.

She needs to get back to you.

She prays to whoever will listen to grant her this one mercy.

Please. Don’t let me be too late.

Replaying her last interaction with you in her head, her body starts to shake with small, broken whimpers, tears sliding down the side of her face.

“Let me go, Natasha.”

“Please.”

“You have to let me go.”

“I can’t lose you.”

“You already did.”

“Goodbye, Talia.”

You stepped away from her, turning and walking away, unwilling to remain in her presence any longer.

As she stood there, watching you leave, her voice cracks as it echoes in the nearly deserted hallway.

“I love you. Please, believe me.”

You duck your head with a small, broken chuckle, before turning slightly to give her one last glance.

“You don’t, Talia. But that’s okay.”

She loses sight of you as you turn the corner.

But… I do.

Sobs threaten to wrack Natasha’s body as she curls in on herself, alone in a cold, empty cabin.

Simultaneously, determination fills her as she resolves to make things right with you as soon as she steps foot onto the compound.

She’ll prove her love for you is true.

Whatever it takes.

xxxx

The quiet rumble of the quinjet as it hits a patch of turbulence washes over her.

This is it.

She’s been gone for a week but she finally, finally, has the chance to make things right. Once you’re in her arms, she’ll vow to never let you go.

She can only hope that you’ll let her.

No.

She can’t let herself be deterred by her own doubts and insecurities.

Not this time.

She’ll get this right.

Inner musings interrupted by the sound of the jet lowering itself onto the tarmac, Natasha takes a running leap off of the ramp before it’s even managed to fully reach the ground.

She flies past training recruits, crowded laboratories, and disgruntled field agents.

She ignores the sound of her name being yelled from multiple directions as she bounds straight towards your quarters.

As she skids to a halt in front of a familiar door, she doesn’t even pause to knock before throwing the offending barrier open.

Only to find… nothing.

The panting assassin is met with nothing but an empty space with no remaining signs of living.

Every knick-knack, every memory, anything that could possibly remind her of the very essence that was you, was just... gone. Stripped from existence as though they were never there in the first place.

And I'm drowning in regret

Suddenly, every ounce of adrenaline that fueled the ex-soviet’s body abandons her. Her knees give way and she crashes to the floor. Kneeling, all she can do is stare at the empty room in abject horror. Terror over the possible implications beginning to cloud her mind.

Absentmindedly, she notes the sound of several footsteps coming down the hall.

“Natasha?”

“Tony… where are they?” she croaks.

She can make out hesitant muttering between Tony, Sam and Steve, before Steve finally breaks the silence.

“They’re gone. They left this morning.”

When the lights come down

You’re gone.

She’s too late.

You don’t love her anymore.

She didn’t do enough.

You didn’t even say goodbye.

She wasn’t enough.

You left.

SHE WASN’T ENOUGH.

A choked sob rips itself from her throat as the rest of her body falls to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut.

There’s a rustle of movement before Tony lifts her torso until her head is cradled into his chest and he gently begins to rock her shaking form in his hold. Sam and Steve look to each other and nod before making their way down the hall to give her some semblance of privacy.

“Shhhh. I’ve got you, Red.”

“They’re gone,” she hiccups.

He lets out a small, pained sigh before tightening his grip.

“Yeah… they are.”

The broken assassin curls in on herself further, before her haunting wails begin to echo throughout the rest of the compound.

Down the hall, two veterans grimace before continuing on their way.

In the labs, a green hand trembles slightly as it writes down its latest equation.

In the training room, cold metal tears through a fifth sandbag.

In the kitchen, viridian eyes turn to the ceiling, speaking a silent prayer for the well-being of her family.

Got an empty crown

xxxx

My body's missing pieces

The next morning found all of the team sans a certain redheaded master spy gathered in the common kitchen assembling their own breakfasts.

A somber atmosphere permeates throughout the room as each Avenger silently ponders their own thoughts over the events of the night before.

Footsteps tap lightly along the marbled floor outside the kitchen and each member bristles slightly as a sense of trepidation washes over them.

What would they face?

Only… shock rocks through each of their systems as they’re met with a relaxed assassin, humming a soft tune as she gracefully moves to putter about the kitchen, pouring herself a mug of coffee.

Exchanging weary glances, the team can do nothing but watch as she moves about with a slight bounce to her step.

Coffee made, she spins around and faces the team.

Noticing everyone’s concerned facial expressions, a light furrow spreads across her brow.

“Good morning?” She questions.

“Uhhh… hey Nat, you feeling okay?” Clint asks with hesitation clear in his voice.

“Of course, I am. The mission was a complete success. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Unwilling to open up something none of them were equipped to handle, the team opts to just ignore the strangeness of the interaction and go back to their respective morning rituals. Until her husky voice breaks the silence once more.

“When’s (y/n) coming back?”

Several sharp inhales fill the air.

Her question is met with nothing but silence before Steve, as team captain, is elbowed forward by Sam.

“Oof- Err… Natasha.”

She glances at him uninterestedly.

“Hm?” She questions over the rim of her mug.

He sheepishly begins to rub at the back of his neck.

“They… they uhh… they aren’t coming back. Ever. They’ve moved out.”

CRASH!

Her mug slips out of her hand. Shattered ceramic scatters across the kitchen floor while coffee slowly flows between the cracks in the marble.

Panic overtakes her emerald eyes and they all watch as she begins to tremble.

Silently, she moves.

Her foot crunches on the broken pieces of her favorite mug. One you had gifted her with after a solo mission abroad.

Without another word nor a glance spared towards her family, she leaves.

Can't pull it all together

xxxx

My body's missing pieces

If anyone were to walk past the training room at this hour, all they’d hear would be enraged grunts and the sound of limbs pounding into reinforced vinyl.

Sweat drips down Natasha’s forehead and into her eyes, further blinding her already blurry vision as frustrated tears stream down her face.

With each blow to the hanging punching bag in front of her, a new devastating question cuts deeply across her train of thought.

How could you just leave?

After everything you told her about your own feelings, did she really mean that little to you?

Was it all just a lie wrapped up in pretty little bow and presented to her just so you could crawl your way under her skin?

Your very presence permeated through every cell of her body. The light you shone on everyone around you, flooded her very veins, engulfing her in a feeling of home and belonging that she’s never found before.

And yet…

Did she ever mean anything to you?

Exhausted and dizzy, she collapses to the mat below her, supported only by her hands and knees. Chest heaving, frustrated tears drip onto the floor, her hands curl into fists, nails digging into the calloused flesh of her palms.

No.

You didn’t leave through any fault of your own.

You left, because of her.

How could she let things go this far?

You left because you felt like you had no other choice.

So sure you would never be able to love her along with her demons, she drove you away until you were standing on the brink of an edge no one would be able to bring you back from.

She dealt the final blow the moment she let you witness her kiss a complete stranger with the same look on her face she only ever reserved for you.

And now… you’re gone.

She never deserved you in the first place.

All she could ever bring you would be destruction and pain. It was who she was. Who she was made to be.

She wasn’t upset with you.

She was enraged with herself.

You willingly gave yourself to her, asking for nothing in return but the chance to bask in the dim glow of Natasha’s moonlight to your sunlight.

But she betrayed your trust and broke the bond that tethered you both, irreparably.

She doesn’t remember a time when she could function without you.

I wish I could remember          

xxxx

My body's missing pieces

Roughly two weeks had passed since your departure. In that time, the Black Widow was rarely seen outside of her room and the community training room.

Always, in a volatile state, she caused every recruit and agent to recoil from her mere presence, until one day, the murderous atmosphere around the redhead finally receded.

That was when the desperation set in.

Once she moved past her own anger, there was no emptiness. Instead, a deep-rooted need to just see you burrowed its way into her heart.

Some of the team is lounging around the common area when Natasha comes storming in, making a bee line for Steve.

At the sight of the determined assassin, he sits up, pulling his head away from his boyfriend’s lap, closing his book.

Tension presents itself in his shoulders as he prepares for some type of confrontation, only for Natasha to plop down onto the coffee table in front of him, a pleading look in her eyes.

“Steve, where did they go?”

He releases a small exhale of relief he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“Natasha, I told you. They don’t want to be found.”

“Please.” She implores.

“I just want to make things right. I have to make things right. If you just tell me, I swear to you that I will never hurt them voluntarily again, I would rather leave this life forever than see them experience any more pain.”

At this, a low growl escapes the Winter Soldier’s lips as he sits forward with a snarl.

“Your word means nothing, Romanoff. You had your chance. Multiple of them. Each more than you ever deserved. And what did you do? You. Broke. Them.” He moves to stand, looming over her in the process.

“Every time they opened themselves up to you, hoping you’d finally let them in, you turned tail and ran. Who was left to pick up the pieces? Us.”

The redhead begins to bristle as her former trainer grows more and more hostile, but he presses on.

“I have spent far too many nights holding them in my arms as they cry themselves to sleep wondering why they weren’t good enough for the likes of you. Questioning what exactly it was that made them. So. Damn. Unlovable. And we WILL NOT let you drag them through the same exact shit, AGAIN.”

At that, the spy leaps to her feet.

“Oh, come off it, Barnes! You don’t get to stand there and pretend like you don’t know what it’s like.” She’s fuming.

“What what’s like?” He takes a step further into her personal space.

Suddenly, she deflates and turns to stare anywhere else.

“To be unmade. To have someone else reach into the deepest parts of you and play around. Molding you into who theywant you to be, until there’s nothing left but broken memories and a machine. You of all people know what it’s like to learn how to love under those conditions,” she mumbles.

The ex-soldier sucks in a breath as his eyes dart to Steve watching them silently beside him.

He did know.

It took months for he and Steve to get to a place where he could comfortably love him the way he always had when they were younger.

Looking back at Natasha, he can’t imagine how it might have been had he belonged to Hydra’s grasp as a child.

The way she belonged to the Red Room.

A pained grimace crosses his face as he opens his mouth to speak, but by then she’s already turned and stepped halfway out the door, head hanging lowly.

“I just want to feel alive again,” is the last thing they hear before they lose sight of her.

Can't pull it all together

xxxx

My body's missing pieces

Late at night, exhausted emerald green stares at her dark ceiling. The pale light of the waning moon trickles in through the crack in her curtains, casting shadows across the room.

Yet, they’re nothing in comparison to the shadows that cross her mind.

Ever since you left, the assassin’s night terrors had reached new heights of horrifying.

Her nightmares soaked in the same deep red dripping all over her ledger.

Each night, she wakes, screaming, drenched in a pool of her own sweat and tears, bile rising in the back of her throat as images of you being driven to your death, either directly or indirectly, by her hand plagues her every thought.

The night terrors, themselves, were nothing new to the Russian.

She had never known a peaceful rest until the night you held her in your arms and chased her demons away with nothing but the dulcet tones of your voice.

Even now, she feels her heartbeat begin to find a steady rhythm as she allows her mind to reminisce on the first full night she’d ever spent in your presence without other activities taking precedence.

“Talia, come back to me.”

“Shhhh. I’ve got you. You’re safe. No one will get you. I’m here,” you repeat over and over in a soft mantra.

“I’m lying on the moon. My dear, I’ll be there soon. It’s a quiet and starry place. Time’s we’re swallowed up in space. We’re here a million miles away.”

Her shivers begin to slow down in frequency.

“There’s things I wish I knew. There’s no thing I’d keep from you. It’s a dark and shiny place. But with you, my dear, I’m safe and we’re a million miles away.”

All that’s left is the occasional quiver that runs through her and you continue to whisper out the final verse.

“We’re lying on the moon. It’s a perfect afternoon. Your shadow follows me all day, making sure that I’m okay and we’re a million miles away.”

Her consciousness drifted away on the calm waves of your voice. Her mind blissfully blank.

Distantly, she felt herself be lifted into your strong arms and gently laid on the soft mattress.

Warmth engulfed her as you slipped your favorite worn sweatshirt over her.

As her conscious mind slips further and further away, she finds her body automatically seeking the comfort of your skin on hers, pulling herself over your chest, wrapping an arm around your torso, and pressing her face further into the warmth radiating from your neck.

At peace, she finally succumbs to the realm of Morpheus.

A broken smile crawls onto Natasha’s lips.

You will never know this, but she awoke first the following morning.

She could feel the smooth rise and fall of your chest beneath her cheek as she burrowed herself deeper into your arms, exhaling a sigh of contentment.

You looked like an angel descended from the heavens above just to bring her the peace she so desperately craved as a child.

The memory fades; her eyes slowly open to a dark and empty room.

She weeps at the thought of what could have been.

I wish I could remember

xxxx

There's a war inside my head

Three months have gone by since the day you left the Avengers Compound.

Natasha no longer pauses in front of your door to stare forlornly every time she walks down the hall.

She’s begun to function with a mechanical numbness that allows her to live day by day.

Yet, she remains… a ghost of herself.

She’s drowning without you, but she’s learned to accept it.

xxxx

Mid-afternoon, Natasha reclines alone on one of the loungers in the common area, reading a well-worn tome on Russian folklore you had given her as a birthday present a few years beforehand.

Her quiet reading is interrupted by the excited chatter of Wanda, Steve and Bucky, the three make their way into the neighboring conference room directly in her line of sight if she peers over the back of the couch.

She goes unnoticed as she silently watches Steve set down some sort of projector on the conference table. She can hear excited mumbles about how Stark had finally finished creating something and its counterpart had arrived at the Charles Xavier’s school for the young enhanced.

Curious as to why they might have ties with the institute, she remains seated, waiting to see how this plays out.

There’s a brief flicker of light as the projection comes to life, and suddenly, all the air is sucked out of her lungs.

You’re here.

Not seven feet away from her, there you sat in all your ethereal glory, lounging in a padded armchair, your legs crossed, head resting casually against your knuckles leaning against the arm of your seat.

The blue and grey tones of the holographic projection do nothing to take away from the fact that you were presented before her, a hedonistic vision of elegant nonchalance, clad in your signature leather jacket and combat boots, hair falling in a tousled disarray that looked as though it were perfectly arranged by the gods themselves.

She vaguely hears Bucky attempting to do a terrible impression of a ghost while Steve cuffs the back of his head, but all she can pay attention to is the smooth curvature of your face as you sit there, head thrown back in joyous laughter.

She takes in the sight of you and finally, finally, she feels as though she can breathe again.

The sound of your voice alone drags her soul back up to the surface; a siren call for her to come home.

She feels as though she’s soaring.

When she finally manages to gather her wits about her, she nearly kicks herself for not realizing you had taken up residence in X-Mansion.

In the past, you had told her about your dreams to make a difference for young mutants, to help them understand themselves and teach them that they could be more than the stigmatization that society demands of them.

It seems as though you’d finally achieved your dreams and she couldn’t be prouder of you.

She watches you lean forward, animated movements acting out the different tales of your latest experiences you regale to your friends.

Your eyes sparkle with joy as you discuss your new passion for teaching. Love and pride evident in your eyes as you talk about how the kids have taught you just as much as you teach them.

You’ve finally managed to figure out how to combine the basic four elements to form new branches of elemental energy using your powers just from watching and helping your students, something you had been working towards for MONTHSprior to departing from the compound.

Tears of pride begin to well in her eyes as she sees just how much you’ve grown in your time away.

You’re so perfect, and she is deeply, irrevocably in love with you.

She debates over whether or not she has the right to make her presence known, when she’s interrupted from her thoughts by the sight of your figure turning its head to glance behind you.

Curious, she sits up just a little to get a better view of the newcomer.

Her stomach plummets when she hears the sound of a musical voice calling out your name with clear fondness before she sees a pair of slender arms wrap themselves around your shoulders, a chin rests itself against the top of your head.

Jean Grey. Class Five, Omega level mutant. Enhancement: telepathy and telekinesis. Her subconscious helpfully supplies as her thoughts continue to race.

Why is she acting so familiar with you?

The others greet her with pleasantries and jokes, clearly comfortable and familiar with her presence, making Natasha wonder just how often they’ve been in communication with the both of you.

Her eyes betray her, refusing to stray from the way the other redhead’s fingers idly trace circles around your shoulders while she talks and laughs, still draped over you.

The assassin’s heart clenches when she sees you relax and snuggle back into what’s obviously a familiar hold.

Several moments go by before you tug lightly at one of the mutant’s hands, getting the message, she circles around the side of your chair, before unceremoniously plopping directly into your lap, making herself comfortable. Legs stretched out over the arm of your chair, her arms wrapped around your waist, head resting on your shoulder.

Your own arms automatically come up to wrap around her, providing support.

The movement is so natural, Natasha can tell it’s an action you’ve performed hundreds of times before.

She can’t remember the last time you looked so at peace with yourself.

And I'm drowning in regret

She feels as though she’s been shoved right back under the water.

You and your friends’ muffled voices barely reach her over the sound of her own blood rushing in her ears.

One of the men asks you when you were finally going to come back to the compound for a visit, telling you you’re more than welcome to invite your new friends from the institute for a grand tour.

Despite the anguish she feels, Natasha can sense a bubble of hope rise within her, at least she’d be able to see you in person again.

That bubble implodes when you hesitate and fall silent.

You tell them you don’t think you can come back quite yet. Your voice trails off.

Sensing your discomfort, the telepath in your arms snuggles further into you, curling herself around your body.

She takes a hold of your hand and starts to rub soothing circles, massaging your palm and pressing soft kisses to your knuckles.

Natasha realizes why you hesitated.

It’s because of her.

The Avengers were your family.

The compound would always be your home.

But with the aftermath of everything that took place between the both of you, you weren’t certain if you had a place with them anymore.

And that shatters her.

She cracks further at the intimate familiarity between you and the young woman in your arms.

Natasha wonders if she treats you better than she ever could. The way you’ve always deserved.

Her chest constricts at the idea that she might have truly lost her chance to fix everything that was broken between you.

Your inner circle, however, is very understanding. They reiterate that everyone misses you deeply, but your happiness comes above all else first and foremost.

Steve grins fondly as he tells you that they’ll just have to come to you.

Your entire demeanor lights up again as you launch into all of the things you wish to show them; the introductions you can make with the young generation in your care.

Eventually, the call winds down and you all exchange your fond goodbyes.

As the connection is severed, Natasha is still left reeling.

When the lights come down

Distantly, she can hear the others gathering themselves and exit the conference room.

She collapses back onto the couch beneath her, staring up at the ceiling with blank eyes.

A single tear escapes out of the side of her eye, sliding down her face, before falling into auburn locks.

You deserve the chance to move forward and she’s so happy you’ve finally found some semblance of peace.

She doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to do the same.

Got an empty crown

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