Drabble: “Miss Danvers, How Are The Avengers Dealing With the Loss of Agent Romanoff?”
“miss danvers?” carol lifted her head up from her lap, meeting eyes with the interviewer. only for a moment she stared until their eye contact broke and she was staring at the wall behind him. a poster hung there. carol made sure to avoid it. sometimes she forgot that on earth heroes were idolized by the public. the reflecting poster board with tony’s face only seemed to stare back at her condescendingly. maybe poster tony thought she was the one that died. maybe in another universe she was the one on the poster and he was the one sitting in a chair under obnoxiously bright lights having to answer the questions of a middle aged man that she preferred not to have answers to.
“i’m sorry.” she swallowed. her throat was dry, like she expected. “what was the question?”
“how are the avengers dealing with the loss of agent romanoff?” his lips curled in a way that carol only assumed was meant to be a comforting smile. she decided then that she hated his smile. she opened her mouth to tell him to stop, but he caught her, and out of his sharp, reptilian lips came: “i‘m sure you, of all people, miss her dearly.”
carol wanted to tell him that he knew nothing of how he missed her. how every night she reached her arm across her sheets, just to imagine that nat’s ballerina fingers were dancing nimbly around her palm. how she was exhausted, and weaker than she’d ever been in her life. how her daily routines only involved wearing nat’s jackets and avoiding the training rooms. this man could never imagine how hard it felt for her to have to avoid meetings. and then have to avoid her colleagues to avoid telling them why she was avoiding meetings.
carol didn’t want to tell him that in some moments she believed the ache was too unbearable to carry on. and in those same moments she’d convinced herself she’d be happier if she wasn’t there.
“it‘s hard to describe the way that i loved natasha.” her voice broke, like she expected.
her knuckles whitened as she clenched the arm of her chair, subtly turning her face from the camera. she took her time sitting up and readjusting the position of her back. when she relaxed back into the chair and met eyes with her interviewer,she could see the reflection of herself in his pupils. making sure to evade the poster this time, carol removed eye contact.
“she loved everything,” a small pressure applied itself to carol’s mouth before she realized it was her own hand. sharp pain called from her elbow resting on the metal arm of the chair. she’d be a fool though, to move now when she was sure she would shatter.
after a few moments of recollection her hand descended back onto the arm rest. her eyes followed its movement, so as to make sure it reached its goal to completion.
“everything. she loved everything more than anything,” carol chuckled. thinking of the times natasha told her to look out the window as they drove out of the city. that it was a beautiful day, and that they should drive out of the city more often. carol wished she’d told her that she did see beauty. that she saw it in the strands of her rusted hair and the sharpness of her cheeks.
“it was impossibly difficult to lose her.” a stray tear danced along the side of carol’s face, her mind gratefully aware that it was the cheek turned away from the camera. “she loved all things deeply beyond the restrictions of her soul. even in her death she was thinking of others.”
“it’s impossible to not take her with you. i see her everywhere. i hear her everywhere.” carol smiled. “mostly telling me i’m wrong.” her head tilted as she folded her arms across her chest. “but sometimes telling me that i’m right.”
the man smiled with her. carol noted that his smile wasn’t actually that awful. he leaned forward then, gripping his notepad firmly between his thumb and forefinger. “and what is she telling you right now?”
carol’s lips teased upward. her hallucinations didn’t come with an on and off switch, but she decided to indulge him anyway.
“she says that green tie does nothing for your outfit.”
immediately after, a small, scolding, (russian) voice in the back of her mind told her to apologize. carol however, just rose from her seat, a smile on her face as she exited the building.
2087
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