#withbeasts

natasha watches from her corner as she heads to the elevators,  and she doesn’t know why she feels her stomach drop so suddenly.

they don’t tell each other everything,  but they have always told each other enough.  she’s known the names of every date he’s had for ten years,  and he’s known the names of hers.  sure,  he’s always had a thing for blondes,  but this feels different.  this is different.  she’s dressed the way none of the women she’s seen him with dress,  and she seems so young yet so tired,  the way she moves.  natasha catches sight of half her face before the elevator doors close,  and thinks she can’t be more than twenty.

( next week,  she will see josephine’s jacket.  she will be sitting on his counter in one of his sweaters,  and she will tell him that she’s too young for him.  he will not tell her who josephine is for ten more years. )

natasha?

“... sorry — phil just told me he’s busy tonight.  suppose i’ll have to get another taxi.”  she offers a theatrical but reassuring sigh as she picks up her bag again and heads back out into the cold rain.

— ДВА.

it’s dark,  for nine in the morning.  overcast with thick late-winter storm clouds with a chill to boot,  natasha is both glad for the short distance between the door and her car,  as well as the sharp coldness that helps keep her startled awake.

she checks herself in the rear-view mirror,  notes the shadows under her eyes and the tired set of her face and sighs.  it’s been three,  maybe four days since roman had called her,  and truthfully she has not slept more than a few hours in that time,  has not eaten more than the sandwich or burrito that sharon and clint brought for her,  and it shows.  after rushing to the warehouse,  after watching over bobbi as she cut into his skull,  after calling maria,  after slicing into hospital records and leveraging her SHIELD clearance to ensure that he’d have his own secluded and secure corner of newyork-presbyterian’s ICU with no questions asked,  natasha has found her way back here.  nobody told her to come,  nobody asked her to,  and in truth,  she wonders if josephine will even want to see her.

it has been chaos upon chaos,  something that natasha thrives in when she needs to,  always able to tuck away her fears and push on.  but this …

josephine has not left her mind since that night.  the red wrap of skin around her neck,  the watery eyes,  the silence.  even amidst roman’s panic and the need for natasha to do what she has done countless times before,  it was josephine that stood out like a light,  flickering violently through it all.

natasha hopes that after it all,  she hasn’t been snuffed out.

something tells her that she hasn’t.  and truthfully,  though she’ll not admit it,  she’s worried what that might mean for when she knocks on the door.

with a sigh,  she pats concealer under her eyes and brushes her hair,  takes a generous drink of water and steps out of her car.

— ТРИ.

she doesn’t mean to fall asleep,  really.  but natasha has been so exhausted,  josephine had to step away to answer roman’s call,  and the sofa is just so comfortable in the way that only sofas can be,  that she simply couldn’t help it.

it’s well past eight at night when she blinks awake,  the dimness of light from another room and the drawn curtains jarring her enough to realize where she is — rather,  where she has been for the past five hours.

natasha pushes up to sit,  groaning with residual grogginess and the special kind of dehydration that comes from a good nap,  and curses under her breath once she glances at the clock.  she can hear shilah’s voice sounding softly from another room,  and josephine in the kitchen nearby.

hey.

“josephine, i’m … so sorry,”  she begins,  voice graveled,  hands running over her face and surely worsening the smudge of mascara already beneath her eyes.  “i didn’t mean to pass out on the couch like that.”

no,  don’t worry about it.  you looked so tired all afternoon,  i figured i should just let you rest.  josephine brings her tea,  no doubt reheated from what she couldn’t finish earlier,  and natasha smiles.  there’s a distinct concern on the other woman’s features hidden beneath her own smile that natasha knows she is trying her best to maintain,  and all things considered,  she cannot blame her.  it’s been a long week,  and jet lag is one of the few things she’s not ever been able to beat.

“i should probably get going.” natasha fishes in the pockets of the coat she’d laid over the back of the sofa for her phone,  sighing as she sees the missed call and text from phil.  are you good to drive?  i could drive you, or call a taxi?

“no,  no,  it’s okay.  i’ll be fine.”  unsurprisingly,  when she looks up again the worry hasn’t passed from her face.  gently,  natasha reaches for josephine’s arm and squeezes.  “really,  i just need a good night’s sleep,  i’m still on paris time.  don’t worry about me.”

— ЧЕТЫРЕ.

she’s learned to expect the unexpected.  to not make promises she can’t keep,  especially when it comes to her schedule.  it had hurt when josephine told her that little isabel was coming in another week or so,  and it had hurt more when natasha had to say that she might not even be in the country then.

despite how much she had reassured her,  natasha still cannot help that pin prick guilt of her own absence even while sitting on a rooftop in prague.

josephine is strong,  and in truth there should be little to worry over — they’ve known each other long enough to understand what will and will not separate them,  what will and will not allow their time to be shared — despite the needling concern that in the case that josephine and roman needed her,  she wouldn’t be there.

perhaps it’s selfish of her,  to overestimate her place in her life.

it’s another hour of looking through scopes and idle banter with isaiah when her phone buzzes.  it’s not the best protocol to keep it on her person,  but really,  she’s been bored,  and even if she won’t admit it,  anxious with anticipation.  sue her.

natasha leans away from the scope to check.  she liked your flowers.  isabel is beautiful.

if she is surprised that he had been invited,  that josephine had let him see their newest addition ( she hadn't with ridley, natasha recalls ),  she does not say.  with a quiet smile,  she texts josephine congratulations.

— ПЯТЬ.

after the wake,  after the few days that the coulson clan had stayed in the guest rooms to catch up and reminisce before all traveling back to boston,  natasha had herself returned to brooklyn.

josephine had asked if she still needed help with going through things,  and natasha hadn’t had the politeness or will to say no.  if nothing else,  the company and the sound of children running and laughing would be better than the profound and heavy emptiness that would have been with her otherwise.

so,  the house has been all but cleared,  save for some beds,  sofas,  larger furniture that would take too much trouble to move again,  and basic supplies for the occasional beach trip.  phil had left her everything,  but everything is far too much for even natasha to take care of,  so it had only been fair for her to tell the bragins,  elliot,  shilah,  that if they ever need to get away from the city,  she already had keys made for them.

but that would be for another time,  and now that the weekend has ended,  they have to go back home.

we can stay a little longer if you need,  josephine tells her,  both of them lingering on the large porch as roman loads their bags and the children into the car.  it’s a courtesy,  she knows,  but she knows just as well that she means it.  she hates pity,  hates feeling coddled,  but this is different,  and it makes her hate how difficult it is to keep herself from crying of gratefulness,  if nothing else.

natasha has always been a quiet woman,  but it isn't difficult to realize that she’s been quieter than usual.  she’s barely said anything these past few days beyond the occasional direction,  answer,  or soft question.  even now,  she thinks that her voice would be silent and hoarse if she responded — but she tries all the same.

“it’s alright.”

josephine reaches for her hand,  squeezes,  and she smiles.  the weather is lovely today,  perfect for a sail on the water,  something she’d promised phil she would give him.

“i still have something to do.”

they hug,  she presses kisses to the childrens’ heads,  and natasha watches the car as it disappears beyond the trees.