“Nuh-uh. Come inside. Come. We need to have a talk, little spider.”
“Yes ma’am,” Rory deflates.
Rory is extremely uncomfortable inside the apartment. Both women appear friendly but guarded, and Rory feels like she’s in trouble with her mom.
“Why are you following Natasha and lurking outside my apartment? That is very creepy, little spider.”
“Oh, I’m not—I’m not a perv or anything, I just—well, I was just making sure I was safe. After the Black Widow showed up at my workplace and everything, I just—I’m sorry ma’am. I really mean no harm.”
“First of all, stop calling me ma’am. Second of all, Почему ты пошел к ней на работу?” She turns to Natasha. (Why did you go to her work?)
“Мне было любопытно. Фьюри заставляет меня расследовать ее.” (I was curious. Fury has me investigating her.)
Rory watches with wide eyes as the two women speak rapidly in Russian.
“Она опасна?” (Is she dangerous?)
“Не для нас.” (Not to us.)
Yelena finally turns to Rory with a sigh. She almost laughs at Rory’s terrified expression. “Stop following us. You will find yourself in a pepper.”
“A pepper? What? You mean in a pickle?”
“Yes, whatever. It means the same thing. Get out of my apartment. And I expect a new plant.”
“Yes ma’am—Yelena—is it okay if I call you Yelena? I’m gonna leave. Just one last thing. What does SHIELD want with me?”
Natasha studies Rory for a moment. “You’re a mystery to us, Rory. You could potentially be a threat. Or a very useful ally. It’s my job to find out which.”
“And if I don’t want that?” Rory asks defensively.
“I don’t recall giving you a choice. Do not get in the way of my investigation.”
Rory looks pissed, Yelena notices.
“I’ll tell you everything you want to know. Pick me up tomorrow at 10 and bring me someone secure. And then stay the hell out of my life.” She pauses. “It’s for your own good.”
With that, Rory exits the apartment and dives off the balcony, swinging further into the night.
Natasha’s eyebrows are furrowed, wondering what set the woman off.
“What the hell was that about?” Yelena asks.
“I don’t know yet. But it appears there’s more to your little spider than we thought.”
At exactly 10:00 the next morning, there is a knock at Rory’s apartment door. Rory stands from the couch and walks to the entrance, opening it for the redhead on the other side.
“Ready to go?” Natasha asks. Rory only nods.
They make their way silently to the car. Natasha is conflicted by the tenseness of Rory’s presence.
“You aren’t wearing your suit.”
“It’s better to be seen with Rory than to be seen with Arachnoid.”
“Why is that?”
Rory doesn’t reply. Natasha is pretty sure she already knows the answer.
At SHIELD headquarters, Natasha leads them to a small conference room.
“This is as secure as it gets. No cameras. Soundproof walls. Transmission-blocking technology.”
Rory nods. “I’m gonna tell you what you need to know. You can assess if I’m a threat and report back to your boss. The details stay here.” Rory isn’t confident that Natasha will keep her secrets, but she hopes.
“Deal,” the redhead agrees.
“I was born normal. I had a happy childhood. Really happy, actually. My parents loved each other and provided everything I needed. I had a little sister named Hailey. The year between high school and college, I interned at Oscorp. When working in a lab, I was bitten by a radioactive spider. Those same spiders later gave Spiderman his powers. It took me a while to figure it out, but eventually I became Arachnoid. My girlfriend, Abby Smith, was killed by a man I was fighting named the Green Goblin. I couldn’t save her. Two months later, I was badly injured in an ambush. My parents and sister were killed in a car accident on the way to the hospital. The cops said there was no foul play, but I’ve never believed that. I finished college with my head down. I kept up being Arachnoid whenever I could. Flash forward and here we are. You know where I live and work. You know my routine. You know everything there is to know. Will you leave me alone now?”
Natasha is silent, a sorrowful wrinkle between her brows. A one-eyed man enters the room with a wide smile, clearing having heard everything said before.
“See now that wasn’t so hard. We thank you for your cooperation. As director of this organization, I am offering you an official position as an agent of SHIELD, Rory. What do you say?”
Rory looks to Natasha with betrayal. “You lied to me. I knew you probably would but I wanted to give you a chance.” She then looks to Director Fury. “I will never work for someone like you. This place has no honor. I held up my end of the deal, so stay out of my life.”
Rory leaves without waiting for a reply, making her way home on her own. When she gets there, there’s a blonde woman sitting on her couch, sipping on a beer.
“What are you doing here, Yelena?” Rory asks with a sigh.
“Wow, not even a ‘hi, how are you?’ So rude. Let me guess, they tried to recruit you?” Rory nods. “You said no?” Another nod. Rory grabs a beer and sits on the opposite end of the couch. “I knew you would. I even told Natasha you’d say no. They try to wrangle me in all the time.”
“But you say no? Even though Natasha works for them?”
“It is not my thing. I’ve been ordered around for too long. My sister trusts Nick Fury. I do not.”
“You don’t trust him?”
“Yes. Keep up, little spider. Anyway, for what it’s worth, I think you made the decision.”
“Thank you, Yelena.” There’s a pause in the conversation. “She betrayed my trust. Natasha, I mean.”
Yelena almost pouts at this revelation. “I would not do that to you.”
Rory clinks her bottle to Yelena’s and puts on a trashy TV show, trying not to let the past few days overwhelm her.
“She seems to think that you like me,” Yelena adds after a few minutes of silence.
Rory looks at her, almost studying the small assassin. “I do.”
“Nuh-uh. Come inside. Come. We need to have a talk, little spider.”
“Yes ma’am,” Rory deflates.
Rory is extremely uncomfortable inside the apartment. Both women appear friendly but guarded, and Rory feels like she’s in trouble with her mom.
“Why are you following Natasha and lurking outside my apartment? That is very creepy, little spider.”
“Oh, I’m not—I’m not a perv or anything, I just—well, I was just making sure I was safe. After the Black Widow showed up at my workplace and everything, I just—I’m sorry ma’am. I really mean no harm.”
“First of all, stop calling me ma’am. Second of all, Почему ты пошел к ней на работу?” She turns to Natasha. (Why did you go to her work?)
“Мне было любопытно. Фьюри заставляет меня расследовать ее.” (I was curious. Fury has me investigating her.)
Rory watches with wide eyes as the two women speak rapidly in Russian.
“Она опасна?” (Is she dangerous?)
“Не для нас.” (Not to us.)
Yelena finally turns to Rory with a sigh. She almost laughs at Rory’s terrified expression. “Stop following us. You will find yourself in a pepper.”
“A pepper? What? You mean in a pickle?”
“Yes, whatever. It means the same thing. Get out of my apartment. And I expect a new plant.”
“Yes ma’am—Yelena—is it okay if I call you Yelena? I’m gonna leave. Just one last thing. What does SHIELD want with me?”
Natasha studies Rory for a moment. “You’re a mystery to us, Rory. You could potentially be a threat. Or a very useful ally. It’s my job to find out which.”
“And if I don’t want that?” Rory asks defensively.
“I don’t recall giving you a choice. Do not get in the way of my investigation.”
Rory looks pissed, Yelena notices.
“I’ll tell you everything you want to know. Pick me up tomorrow at 10 and bring me someone secure. And then stay the hell out of my life.” She pauses. “It’s for your own good.”
With that, Rory exits the apartment and dives off the balcony, swinging further into the night.
Natasha’s eyebrows are furrowed, wondering what set the woman off.
“What the hell was that about?” Yelena asks.
“I don’t know yet. But it appears there’s more to your little spider than we thought.”
At exactly 10:00 the next morning, there is a knock at Rory’s apartment door. Rory stands from the couch and walks to the entrance, opening it for the redhead on the other side.
“Ready to go?” Natasha asks. Rory only nods.
They make their way silently to the car. Natasha is conflicted by the tenseness of Rory’s presence.
“You aren’t wearing your suit.”
“It’s better to be seen with Rory than to be seen with Arachnoid.”
“Why is that?”
Rory doesn’t reply. Natasha is pretty sure she already knows the answer.
At SHIELD headquarters, Natasha leads them to a small conference room.
“This is as secure as it gets. No cameras. Soundproof walls. Transmission-blocking technology.”
Rory nods. “I’m gonna tell you what you need to know. You can assess if I’m a threat and report back to your boss. The details stay here.” Rory isn’t confident that Natasha will keep her secrets, but she hopes.
“Deal,” the redhead agrees.
“I was born normal. I had a happy childhood. Really happy, actually. My parents loved each other and provided everything I needed. I had a little sister named Hailey. The year between high school and college, I interned at Oscorp. When working in a lab, I was bitten by a radioactive spider. Those same spiders later gave Spiderman his powers. It took me a while to figure it out, but eventually I became Arachnoid. My girlfriend, Abby Smith, was killed by a man I was fighting named the Green Goblin. I couldn’t save her. Two months later, I was badly injured in an ambush. My parents and sister were killed in a car accident on the way to the hospital. The cops said there was no foul play, but I’ve never believed that. I finished college with my head down. I kept up being Arachnoid whenever I could. Flash forward and here we are. You know where I live and work. You know my routine. You know everything there is to know. Will you leave me alone now?”
Natasha is silent, a sorrowful wrinkle between her brows. A one-eyed man enters the room with a wide smile, clearing having heard everything said before.
“See now that wasn’t so hard. We thank you for your cooperation. As director of this organization, I am offering you an official position as an agent of SHIELD, Rory. What do you say?”
Rory looks to Natasha with betrayal. “You lied to me. I knew you probably would but I wanted to give you a chance.” She then looks to Director Fury. “I will never work for someone like you. This place has no honor. I held up my end of the deal, so stay out of my life.”
Rory leaves without waiting for a reply, making her way home on her own. When she gets there, there’s a blonde woman sitting on her couch, sipping on a beer.
“What are you doing here, Yelena?” Rory asks with a sigh.
“Wow, not even a ‘hi, how are you?’ So rude. Let me guess, they tried to recruit you?” Rory nods. “You said no?” Another nod. Rory grabs a beer and sits on the opposite end of the couch. “I knew you would. I even told Natasha you’d say no. They try to wrangle me in all the time.”
“But you say no? Even though Natasha works for them?”
“It is not my thing. I’ve been ordered around for too long. My sister trusts Nick Fury. I do not.”
“You don’t trust him?”
“Yes. Keep up, little spider. Anyway, for what it’s worth, I think you made the decision.”
“Thank you, Yelena.” There’s a pause in the conversation. “She betrayed my trust. Natasha, I mean.”
Yelena almost pouts at this revelation. “I would not do that to you.”
Rory clinks her bottle to Yelena’s and puts on a trashy TV show, trying not to let the past few days overwhelm her.
“She seems to think that you like me,” Yelena adds after a few minutes of silence.
Rory looks at her, almost studying the small assassin. “I do.”
Warnings: nightmares/PTSD, mentions of death/killing, fighting, shameless flirting, sm fluff
(Translations look like this)
It’s wrong, Natasha thinks, the way she watches Hallyn. The way she wonders what she's dreaming of. She was ordered to do it, of course. Hallyn is a prisoner and must be under constant surveillance. That thought, however, doesn’t ease the nagging doubt at the back of her mind as she watches Hallyns sweaty body thrash around on the floor.
That’s something that unnerves the redhead. There’s a perfectly comfortable queen size bed in the room, but Hallyn chooses to sleep on the floor with nothing except a thin blanket underneath her. Natasha remembers something Steve said once. The bed’s too soft. She wonders how long it’s been since Hallyn slept in a real bed.
Natasha tenses and leans forward as Hallyn’s body shoots upright. The blonde woman scampers backward, forcing her body into the corner of the room. Sweat drenches her, the tattoos shining on her skin. Her breathing is labored, Natasha can tell. The redhead begins to worry for the woman. She turns on the audio.
“Пожалуйста остановись. Я больше не могу этого делать. Боже, пожалуйста. Просто убей меня, пожалуйста.” (Please stop. I can’t do this anymore. God please. Just kill me please)
Natasha’s breath falters at the sound of the heartbroken Russian. It reminds her so much of her own broken pleas, whispered into the silent nights of the Red Room.
“Мне нужно выбраться отсюда. Черт, я просто хочу домой.”(I need to get out of here. Fuck, I just want to go home.)
Hallyn chokes back a sob and stands on shaky legs, stumbling across the room. Natasha can hear her wheezing, struggling to breathe. She thinks the blonde woman might pass out.
Natasha jumps out of the office chair, running down the hall to Hallyn’s assigned bedroom. She unlocks the door and kicks it shut, crossing the room.
“Hallyn, breathe. Hey, it’s okay, just breathe.” Natasha says, her hands raised to show the woman that she isn’t a threat.
“I can’t, I need to—мой брат, I need to find him. I need to—I, they’re gonna come for me again, I—” (my brother)
“Hey, nobody is coming for you. You’re safe here. ты в безопасности. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” (You are safe)
Hallyn’s body crumples with a sob, and Natasha barely catches her before she hits the ground. Hallyn’s body is slick with sweat and shaking violently. Natasha wraps her arms tight around the woman, feeling the rough scarred skin beneath her hands. Hallyn does not hug her back, her arms wrapped around her own torso instead.
After a while—it could’ve been two minutes or twenty—Hallyn forces herself out of Natasha’s grip. She refuses to meet the redhead's eyes. “Please leave.”
“Hallyn—”
“Leave. Now.”
“Okay, I’ll go. I’ll be here if you need me.” With that, Natasha stands up and leaves.
Hallyn does not sleep the rest of the night.
Neither does Natasha. Even after she’s relieved of her shift at 0200 hours, she lies awake in her bed.
In the morning, she heads to Hallyn’s room to retrieve her for a meeting. She expects Hallyn to be cold and distant, and is shocked when she’s anything but.
“Morning, Romanoff. What brings you around these parts so early?” The blonde greets with a smile. Natasha wishes she could say it looked fake. She knows, however, that this is Hallyn’s attempt to pretend last night never happened. She accepts it.
“Unfortunately, there’s this prisoner that’s being a real pain in the ass. Won’t tell us a damn thing. Gotta bring her in for another interrogation. I don’t think she knows that we’re just trying to help her.”
“Sounds like she’s got some real trust issues.”
“Something like that,” Natasha laughs. “Come on, we’re losing daylight.”
“It’s seven in the morning!” Hallyn counters. Nonetheless, she follows the redhead eagerly.
They find themselves in the same conference room, files laid on the table between them. “Look, Hallyn. We really don’t know anything about you. And we probably never will, unless you tell us. We don’t want to hurt you. We don’t want to be your enemy. Fury wants you on his team. You should be honored.”
“And what about you?” Hallyn probes. “You want me around?”
“I don’t care if you stay or go,” Natasha lies.
“Sure you don’t. What do you want to know, Agent Romanoff?”
Natasha briefly remembers that Hallyn knows her full name. “Everything. Anything you’re willing to tell me.”
“Turn the cameras off. I’m not telling them; I’m telling you.,” Hallyn nods to the security cameras in the corners of the room.
“Okay,” Natasha agrees. She does something on her tablet before the blinking red lights on the cameras turn off.
“Alright. Hallyn Rose Chase. Born November 12, 1989. Grew up on a small farm in Maine. Grew potatoes and raised livestock. Enlisted in the Marine Corps at 17. Went to boot camp and was shipped off to Iraq. Got promoted through the years. In 2009, I was recruited by special ops. MARSOC. After a year, I was moved to a different operation. Delta Black. Highly classified black ops team made up of Marines. Completed a lot of missions. Killed a lot of people. Retired. And now I’m here.”
Natasha knows there’s more to the story, but she doesn’t push. That’s more than Hallyn had been willing to give before. “Okay. That wasn’t so bad. Now a few basic questions before we sign you onto SHIELD.”
“Sign me onto SHIELD? I never agreed to that.”
“Are you saying no?”
“I’m saying that I’m not signing anything.”
“Okay. I’m still gonna ask the questions,” Natasha says with a smirk. “Are you a felon or fugitive?”
“Not in this country.”
“Good enough for me. Any medical conditions?”
“Nope.”
“Any family?”
Hallyn hesitates at that question, but her face does not waver. “No.”
Natasha debates asking about the brother she mentioned the night before, but decides not to and just nods slightly. “Okay. Then this should be simple enough. If you decide to join, of course.”
“I want to talk to Director Fury. Alone.”
“He is very busy. But I will see what I can do.”
“Thank you.”
“How about we go spar. I wanna see what you’ve got.”
“Okay. But prepare to be beaten, Romanoff.”
Natasha hesitates. “How did you know my real name?”
“A friend of mine knew you. Once upon a time.”
Natasha knew she would receive nothing more on the subject. “Alright.”
In the gym, Hallyn was more carefree than anywhere else. Natasha had expected to be bossing her around, but it was the opposite. Hallyn had a regimen and insisted that she stick to it. They started with weights, and Natasha couldn’t help but glance down at Hallyn’s muscles every now and again.
It was purely analytical, of course. She was just assessing the new recruit.
Hallyn, on the other hand, was shamelessly checking out the redhead. Natasha shot her knowing looks every time she caught her.
Natasha wanted to move straight into sparring, but Hallyn insisted on a quick run beforehand.
“I’ve been cooped up for weeks, Romanoff. I have too much energy.”
“Like a puppy,” Natasha comments.
“Do not compare me to a puppy. I am a deadly operative.”
“Sure, of course. But you act like a puppy.”
“Fuck you.”
“Maybe later.”
In the ring, their demeanors do a complete 180. Both women are stoic, taking the sparring match as seriously as a battle to the death.
Hallyn allows Natasha to lunge first. She quickly dodges the redhead’s attack and counters it with a quick punch to the gut that Natasha deflects.
Once again they close the space between themselves, with Hallyn charging this time. She fakes a jab and then kicks her legs under Natasha, who lands on her feet and then lunges. Hallyn avoids it and throws a fast punch, hitting the redhead square on the cheek.
Natasha staggers backward, shocked at the strength of the blow. She looks up and finds no sign of remorse on Hallyn’s face. Oh, it is so on, she thinks.
They trade blows ruthlessly for the next thirty minutes, matching one another’s skills seamlessly. Natasha is shocked at the Marine’s catlike agility that mirrors her own.
Natasha finally gets Hallyn in a chokehold, but the blonde refuses to tap out. She never, ever taps out. She smashes her head backward in a brutal headbutt, hearing a string of Russian curses as the grip on her neck loosens. Romanoff squats to the ground clutching her nose.
Hallyn’s eyes widen as she realizes what she’s just done. “Oh shit, I’m so sorry. That was way too hard.” She kneels in front of Natasha as she tries to inspect the damage. Out of nowhere, hands are on her body and she’s flipped onto the ground. Hard.
Laying on her back with a bloody-faced redhead above her is a lot more pleasant than it sounds, Hallyn thinks.
“Never let your guard down, Chase,” Natasha smirks.
“Yes ma’am. It was worth the view though.”
Natasha rolls her eyes and helps Hallyn up.
“I’m sorry about your nose. I got carried away.”
“Yeah that was a dick move. It’s okay, though. I wanted to see what you had in you. You showed me.”
“Oh, детка, you don’t know the half of it. есть много движений, которые я хотел бы показать вам,” Hallyn says with a smirk. (Baby; there are so many more moves that I’d like to show you)
“You know I speak Russian, right? I know what you’re saying.”
Hallyn stops walking and faces Natasha, taking a step closer. “I know. I wanted you to hear it.”
The blonde turns and continues walking down the hall like nothing happened while Natasha is left breathless.
She doesn’t show it, but Hallyn’s heart is beating wildly, her brain running a thousand miles a minute. Why did I just do that? Oh my god, I wanna do it again.
It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t your fault. Her low, soothing voice rang out in your head like a distant memory. And that’s all it was—a memory, long gone and buried in the dreadful depths of your heartbreak. Because she wasn’t really talking to you. She wasn’t really sitting next to you on the jet, kissing your head and holding you close. She was at the compound. She didn’t sleep in your bed anymore. She no longer whispered sweet nothings. You had broken up. Six months ago. And she was gone. So now you had to tell yourself that those civilians didn’t die because of you.
But they did. They died, and it was all your fault. A little girl, no older than six, had died in your arms, begging for her mom. Begging for you to save her. But you didn’t. You couldn’t save her. You killed them all.
“Agent, we’ve arrived at the compound,” the pilot informed you, breaking your distant stare at the metal wall of the airship. You nodded numbly and grabbed your duffel bag off the floor, swinging it over your shoulder as you exited the jet.
You took the elevator down from the roof to the floor with your room. You weren’t expecting anybody to greet you. Nobody had done so since your breakup with Natasha. But when you stepped out of the doors, there were several people sitting and laughing in the living area. Including the entire team and several agents.
“Y/N, you’re back. How’d it go?” Steve asked politely. You were stiff and uncomfortable, but he didn’t seem to notice. Only one other person even looked at you.
“It was fine” you mumbled, well aware of the pair of green irises that had been locked on you since you walked in the room.
“That’s it? You’ve been gone for a week and that’s all you’re gonna say?” he asked with an awkward laugh. Everyone had seemed tense around you since the breakup.
“I’m sorry, I’m just tired. I’m gonna go take a shower. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You walked past him and down the hall towards your room without saying another word to any of your teammates.
You made it to your room and threw down your duffel bag. Your breathing was already picking up as memories of the mission started flashing through your mind. The explosion, the gunshots, the screams, the bodies. It was too much. Normally Natasha knew how to calm you down from a panic attack, but she wasn’t there anymore. It was just you, and you were drowning.
You stumbled into the bathroom and turned on the shower as cold as it would go. Sliding down the tile wall, you sat on the floor under the icy stream of water as you choked on your pained sobs.
You didn’t hear your bedroom door opening, or the familiar voice calling your name. You didn’t even see her walk into the bathroom, rushing to your side once she saw the state you were in.
You only registered her presence once you felt her strong arms wrap around your shaking body. She was getting soaked by the cold shower, but she didn’t seem to care. She only held you tighter, leaning her head against yours while she promised you that everything was okay.
Eventually, she reached up and turned off the flow of water. “You’re okay,” she whispered gently. “I’m going to get us some towels, okay?”
You nodded and she stood up to grab two towels from your bathroom closet. She offered a hand to help you stand up, then wrapped the towel around your shoulders. The both of you were silent as you stood next to each other, drying off.
“I’m sorry,” you finally said. “I know…this isn’t your problem anymore.”
“Hey,” she said sternly, lightly grabbing your arm so you were facing her. “Don’t apologize for needing help. Ever. You know I’m always here for you. Can I ask what happened?”
You clenched your jaw and looked down at the floor. “A lot of people died. It was my fault,” you said shortly, trying to get it out without breaking down.
“I wasn’t there. I can’t tell you that it wasn’t your fault, because it might’ve been. There’s no way to know. But I do know this: there are a million things that had to happen in order for those people to die; a million things leading up to this mission; a million reasons you couldn’t save them. And you can’t control a million things, so it wasn’t really your fault. You tried your damn hardest to save them. I know you better than anyone, so I know that’s true. Sometimes the best you can do is try. And sometimes we fail, but that’s just part of the job. Okay?”
You nodded, looking back up to meet her eyes as a few stray tears dripped down your face. Seeing this, she pulled you close once again, wrapping you in a warm hug. You tried to bite back your sobs. Nothing had felt right; even before the mission. Nothing had felt right since she had left.
“Detka, what can I do?” she asked as she rubbed her hand up and down your back. You both noticed the accidental slip of the familiar nickname, but neither of you mentioned it. You just relished in the memories of ethereal feelings that came with it.
“I don’t want you to leave.” You muttered so quietly that, for a minute, you wondered if Natasha had even heard you speak.
“I don’t want me to leave either,” she finally responded. It was a broad statement, but there was no need to clarify. You both knew what it truly meant. She broke away from the hug as you leaned back against the counter, but her hands remained on your face, wiping away the tears that continued falling steadily.
“I never should’ve yelled,” you whispered, voice cracking with emotion as you spoke of that night—the night you ruined the only good thing you’d ever had.
“I never should’ve left.” Nat’s eyes were teary, and it broke you even more.
“I’m sorry. God, Nat, I’m so sorry.”
“Me too,” she agreed, sniffling through a watery laugh. “Why did we break us?”
“I don’t know.” You shrugged. “I don’t know, but I hate it. I miss you. I…I wanted to spend forever by your side. There’s still a fucking diamond ring in my nightstand,” you laughed paonfully.
“What?” she breathed.
Your eyes widened as you realized what you said. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have told you that. I just-”
“You have a ring…and you kept it for six months?”
“Well…yeah. Nat, I loved you then, I love you now, and I’ve loved you every second in between. Of course I kept the ring.”
Her mouth opened, but no words came out. Tears dripped silently down her cheeks. She took one step closer to you, but a loud siren blared over the PA system.
“Guess we have a mission,” she mumbled, wiping the tears from her face.
It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t your fault. Her low, soothing voice rang out in your head like a distant memory. And that’s all it was—a memory, long gone and buried in the dreadful depths of your heartbreak. Because she wasn’t really talking to you. She wasn’t really sitting next to you on the jet, kissing your head and holding you close. She was at the compound. She didn’t sleep in your bed anymore. She no longer whispered sweet nothings. You had broken up. Six months ago. And she was gone. So now you had to tell yourself that those civilians didn’t die because of you.
But they did. They died, and it was all your fault. A little girl, no older than six, had died in your arms, begging for her mom. Begging for you to save her. But you didn’t. You couldn’t save her. You killed them all.
“Agent, we’ve arrived at the compound,” the pilot informed you, breaking your distant stare at the metal wall of the airship. You nodded numbly and grabbed your duffel bag off the floor, swinging it over your shoulder as you exited the jet.
You took the elevator down from the roof to the floor with your room. You weren’t expecting anybody to greet you. Nobody had done so since your breakup with Natasha. But when you stepped out of the doors, there were several people sitting and laughing in the living area. Including the entire team and several agents.
“Y/N, you’re back. How’d it go?” Steve asked politely. You were stiff and uncomfortable, but he didn’t seem to notice. Only one other person even looked at you.
“It was fine” you mumbled, well aware of the pair of green irises that had been locked on you since you walked in the room.
“That’s it? You’ve been gone for a week and that’s all you’re gonna say?” he asked with an awkward laugh. Everyone had seemed tense around you since the breakup.
“I’m sorry, I’m just tired. I’m gonna go take a shower. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You walked past him and down the hall towards your room without saying another word to any of your teammates.
You made it to your room and threw down your duffel bag. Your breathing was already picking up as memories of the mission started flashing through your mind. The explosion, the gunshots, the screams, the bodies. It was too much. Normally Natasha knew how to calm you down from a panic attack, but she wasn’t there anymore. It was just you, and you were drowning.
You stumbled into the bathroom and turned on the shower as cold as it would go. Sliding down the tile wall, you sat on the floor under the icy stream of water as you choked on your pained sobs.
You didn’t hear your bedroom door opening, or the familiar voice calling your name. You didn’t even see her walk into the bathroom, rushing to your side once she saw the state you were in.
You only registered her presence once you felt her strong arms wrap around your shaking body. She was getting soaked by the cold shower, but she didn’t seem to care. She only held you tighter, leaning her head against yours while she promised you that everything was okay.
Eventually, she reached up and turned off the flow of water. “You’re okay,” she whispered gently. “I’m going to get us some towels, okay?”
You nodded and she stood up to grab two towels from your bathroom closet. She offered a hand to help you stand up, then wrapped the towel around your shoulders. The both of you were silent as you stood next to each other, drying off.
“I’m sorry,” you finally said. “I know…this isn’t your problem anymore.”
“Hey,” she said sternly, lightly grabbing your arm so you were facing her. “Don’t apologize for needing help. Ever. You know I’m always here for you. Can I ask what happened?”
You clenched your jaw and looked down at the floor. “A lot of people died. It was my fault,” you said shortly, trying to get it out without breaking down.
“I wasn’t there. I can’t tell you that it wasn’t your fault, because it might’ve been. There’s no way to know. But I do know this: there are a million things that had to happen in order for those people to die; a million things leading up to this mission; a million reasons you couldn’t save them. And you can’t control a million things, so it wasn’t really your fault. You tried your damn hardest to save them. I know you better than anyone, so I know that’s true. Sometimes the best you can do is try. And sometimes we fail, but that’s just part of the job. Okay?”
You nodded, looking back up to meet her eyes as a few stray tears dripped down your face. Seeing this, she pulled you close once again, wrapping you in a warm hug. You tried to bite back your sobs. Nothing had felt right; even before the mission. Nothing had felt right since she had left.
“Detka, what can I do?” she asked as she rubbed her hand up and down your back. You both noticed the accidental slip of the familiar nickname, but neither of you mentioned it. You just relished in the memories of ethereal feelings that came with it.
“I don’t want you to leave.” You muttered so quietly that, for a minute, you wondered if Natasha had even heard you speak.
“I don’t want me to leave either,” she finally responded. It was a broad statement, but there was no need to clarify. You both knew what it truly meant. She broke away from the hug as you leaned back against the counter, but her hands remained on your face, wiping away the tears that continued falling steadily.
“I never should’ve yelled,” you whispered, voice cracking with emotion as you spoke of that night—the night you ruined the only good thing you’d ever had.
“I never should’ve left.” Nat’s eyes were teary, and it broke you even more.
“I’m sorry. God, Nat, I’m so sorry.”
“Me too,” she agreed, sniffling through a watery laugh. “Why did we break us?”
“I don’t know.” You shrugged. “I don’t know, but I hate it. I miss you. I…I wanted to spend forever by your side. There’s still a fucking diamond ring in my nightstand,” you laughed paonfully.
“What?” she breathed.
Your eyes widened as you realized what you said. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have told you that. I just-”
“You have a ring…and you kept it for six months?”
“Well…yeah. Nat, I loved you then, I love you now, and I’ve loved you every second in between. Of course I kept the ring.”
Her mouth opened, but no words came out. Tears dripped silently down her cheeks. She took one step closer to you, but a loud siren blared over the PA system.
“Guess we have a mission,” she mumbled, wiping the tears from her face.
Her heart burned with desire every minute until you were hers. She ached to make you her own. Her own to hold, to kiss, to dance with, to laugh with, to spend forever with.
And then you were hers. And her heart was full. So full of love that it consumed her. She thought about you every minute of every day. She held you on your worst nights and you did the same for her. She kissed you with earnest passion. She protected you with every ounce of her being.
Her love for you never burned out. Her heart was never scorned from the heartbreak of a broken relationship. Her heart stayed full, the flame burned strong. Because it never had the chance to die out before you were ripped from her life.
When you turned to ash, her heart followed suit. Everything that used to be fulfilling was empty. Everything that used to make her smile made her cry.
For five years, she searched for any possible solution. Any way to get you back. Any way to soothe the burn.
Her heart turned to charcoal. You were gone. You were gone and there was little hope of getting you back. Everyone else gave up but she held on. To other people she seemed cold, but it was only because the flame was smothered and she was trying to undo the damage.
And then there was hope. There was a chance. The charcoal caught fire. She even smiled.
She stopped at nothing to get you back. That’s what they told you on the battlefield. That it had been five years and she saved the world but she was gone.
The sudden weight on your chest was suffocating. The fire in your heart had no oxygen. It was going out.
She was gone. She was gone and with her went your burning passion. Your ability to love, your full heart, it was all gone. All empty.
You thought about her smile every day. You thought about holding her, kissing her, dancing with her, laughing with her, and spending forever with her. You thought about the strength with which your love had burned.
You didn’t smile anymore. You never held, kissed, danced with, or laughed with anyone else. You spent forever alone. And you died with a charcoal heart.
Her heart burned with desire every minute until you were hers. She ached to make you her own. Her own to hold, to kiss, to dance with, to laugh with, to spend forever with.
And then you were hers. And her heart was full. So full of love that it consumed her. She thought about you every minute of every day. She held you on your worst nights and you did the same for her. She kissed you with earnest passion. She protected you with every ounce of her being.
Her love for you never burned out. Her heart was never scorned from the heartbreak of a broken relationship. Her heart stayed full, the flame burned strong. Because it never had the chance to die out before you were ripped from her life.
When you turned to ash, her heart followed suit. Everything that used to be fulfilling was empty. Everything that used to make her smile made her cry.
For five years, she searched for any possible solution. Any way to get you back. Any way to soothe the burn.
Her heart turned to charcoal. You were gone. You were gone and there was little hope of getting you back. Everyone else gave up but she held on. To other people she seemed cold, but it was only because the flame was smothered and she was trying to undo the damage.
And then there was hope. There was a chance. The charcoal caught fire. She even smiled.
She stopped at nothing to get you back. That’s what they told you on the battlefield. That it had been five years and she saved the world but she was gone.
The sudden weight on your chest was suffocating. The fire in your heart had no oxygen. It was going out.
She was gone. She was gone and with her went your burning passion. Your ability to love, your full heart, it was all gone. All empty.
You thought about her smile every day. You thought about holding her, kissing her, dancing with her, laughing with her, and spending forever with her. You thought about the strength with which your love had burned.
You didn’t smile anymore. You never held, kissed, danced with, or laughed with anyone else. You spent forever alone. And you died with a charcoal heart.
