You Don't Love Her
Chapter 9: I think we were cursed from the start
Content Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, electrocution, Natasha gets really fucking mean, slight masochism, heartbreak
“I was just thinking you would be an excellent way to get both”
The implications behind the words sent both chills of fear and jolts of curiosity coursing through her system, the crypticism of your previous statements clashing delightfully with the brutal simplicity of such insinuations. Switching from moving her fingers to her wrists, she opted to slowly move her hand to the signal emitter on her belt; if all went well then she’d be able to stall you until Steve or Tony arrived, if it didn't go well then who knows what would happen. First thing’s first: Natasha would have to stall you like her life depended on it, for all she knew it probably did. Inching her fingers toward her waist, Natasha took a deep breath and turned her face towards yours, your noses touching from your head’s position on her shoulder. Natasha pretended to miss the way that your eyes flicked down to her lips and back up again, her cheeks heating up as she forced an intense eye contact between the two of you.
“Why would I give you either? You would be put into containment the second you stepped foot into Avengers tower. Not only that, but I don't really think that I’m comfortable with being a body for some girl I don’t know.” The way you leaned your head back and laughed softly at Natasha’s skeptical tone and raised eyebrow seemed to drive the spy’s point further home in her mind. If your international criminal status wasn’t an issue the level of self assured snark that oozed from your every pore would be what got you kicked out. “Simple, I can't just make a body for her from nothing. I’d need something, someone who once housed a soul within their chest so that she could take over,” You moved your tail from behind your back to caress Natasha’s cheek, your eyes softening as you lowered your voice to a whisper. “I want it to be you.. In all of my time on this earth I have never met someone who makes my heart flutter so wildly despite the danger they pose to me. I don’t need all of you, just enough of you for the cradle to make a new chest for her soul.” Natasha’s shoulders tensed as her fingers grazed the cold material of the signal emitter, an emotional cocktail roiling violently in her chest. Pushing the button, she pushed her weight into your injured shoulder and forced you to the floor; kicking your knees in to bring you to the ground before rolling you over and pinning you to achieve her desired position. Igniting her widow’s bites, she pointed her wrist at your face and hovered over you as you groaned on the floor. Your shoulder laid stretched out and limp beside you, Natasha’s free hand pinning it to the floor. It was likely dislocated given the way it had clicked after Natasha had forced her back into it.
Setting her jaw and holding the widow bite to your neck, Natasha glowered down at you and shook her head slightly. She can’t believe she almost let herself fall for the bullshit you were spewing. The way you held her, the way you spoke about her like she was some sort of heaven sent muse, it was all just trying to talk her into giving you what you wanted. She was a hero dammit, an avenger, someone who saved the world and arrested people like you for breakfast. She refused to let you get into her head again, first it was how fucking pitiful you looked in that cell, then it was the dance, and now it’s this shit. “It’s always some kind of game with you isn’t it?! Having a conversation, fighting, dancing, it’s all just some facade to get under people’s skin isn’t it?!” “Natasha what are you talki-“ “Shut. Up.” She pushed the electric blue metal into your jugular, her fingers itching dangerously on the triggers. “I’m tired of letting you play me, fucking tired of it Y/n. So quit pretending to be in love with me before I hit you with enough voltage to charge a car battery.” The quick shrinking of your pupils gave Natasha a concerning level of satisfaction. Your breathing was erratic, whether from panic or something else Natasha wasn’t completely sure. “Who is the woman you keep talking about. What does she have to do with this, with everything you've been doing all of these years.” You swallowed dryly, your eyes focused on her arm and your sense of touch focused on the sharp metal prodding the soft skin of your neck. “I wasn’t pretending t-“
Boy, when Natasha said she was going to pump you with enough electricity to power a car, she wasn’t kidding. For one second all you could hear was ringing, and all you could feel was your muscles rapidly contracting before the pain set in. The next second you could hear your screaming, and could see the cold emptiness in Natasha’s eyes. There was no mutual affection for you there, only anger and pain; but wasn’t that what love was for you? As she tazed you, you couldn’t help the bubbling laughter that came from your chest after the shocks subsided, confusion replacing the anger. Coughing, you couldn’t help but think about how you had manipulated so many through your words alone, it’s only natural that she’d do the same with a bit of dangerous incentive. It’s a shame she didn’t realize that you hadn’t tried to do the same to her. “Who is the woman Y/n.” Smiling lazily up at her, you couldn’t help but notice how gorgeous she looked in the low lighting of the HYDRA base. “She is my first love, and I’m going to bring her back so that I can love her again.” Natasha’s brow twitched as she pushed her wrist into your throat yet again. “If you love her so much why don’t you say her name.” “Names have power araña, and I'd rather not waste the power of her’s until I can hold her in my arms again. Preferably until I can hold you both in my arms toge-“ Grunting at the next shock that coursed through you, you clenched your jaw and waited it out in an attempt at silence. With heaving breaths, you opened your eyes and leaned up shakily towards your aggressor. “Araña, if you’re going to keep this up I suggest you give me something to bite down on, preferably your shoulder.”
Natasha practically bristled like a cat, exclaiming out in exasperation before wrapping her hand around your throat, her teeth clenched painfully together as smoke began to wisp around your bodies. Closing her hand around your throat, she watched as your pupils dilated and your arms struggled against the limbs that trapped them. “Stop calling me that. I’m not one of your precious little brain-washed victims who follows your every beck and call.” Your mouth remained closed, your body stilled itself as you stared into Natasha’s eyes and listened to what she had to say, the water and acid in your stomach feeling as though it was freezing over as she leaned down into you. The fingers around your throat squeezed tighter, your breathing became labored, your mind screamed for escape against your heart’s overwhelming desire to stay and see where this went. Natasha’s eyes had hardened into mossy gems as they bore into you, her breath fanning across your face. “I don’t love you, get that through your fucking head. You’re a sick, depraved monster who deserves what’s going to come to them. Even if I could, I wouldn’t love you, especially after what I’ve seen you do.” Your body shook as she spoke, hot and cold clashing over your skin in wave after wave of agony, the simple waves growing into a tsunami as she finished speaking. Footsteps pounded down toward the two of you from the hall as Natasha’s weight left your body, leaving you stranded on the ground. “Just fucking leave Y/n. We both know that's what you were going to do at the end of this anyway.” Heat and grief rose into Natasha’s neck as you rose to the floor, tremors wracking throughout your body as you regained your footing. Your right arm hung limply at your side as your left reached into your pocket, a pistol being trained on you within seconds of the action. Slipping a small rectangle of paper from your pocket, you tossed it to the ground before Natasha’s feet, eyes dark as you stared at her gun. “If you decide that you can love me, that you can want to love me, or even that you’ve had enough of me and want me gone, that card has my information.”
Taking a step back, your body faded into smoke as the door to the room of corpses flew open, the star-spangled man entering the room to find a crouched widow looking back at him, physically unharmed and yet still staring at him with empty eyes. “Let's get back to the Quinjet. Tell Tony that I got a lead.” Steve’s brows furrowed as Natasha analyzed a small slip of paper, tapping his ear piece and turning around. “Alright Tones, time to bring her home.” He looked back at the spy before the two began to walk down the hall, unnerved by the flexing of her hands, by the still-active blue glow of her widow’s bites, by the silence of her steps as she strode beside him. He knew what this meant, practically everyone at S.H.I.E.L.D. did, so he kept quiet as the two left the bunker, the silence carrying on until the Quinjet lifted off, leaving their footprints in the snow of a freshly-made tomb.
Natasha’s words flew around your thoughts like a swarm of bees, your mind getting lost within the venom that they held as you teleported away. Your lack of focus forced your gift onto a sort of autopilot, dragging you to wherever it pleased; where it pleased happening to be a hill with a single tree that looked over a field of grass and flowers as they bathed in the starlight. Your eyes flitted around as your heart battered your rib cage, your palm reaching out to touch the rough bark of the tree as you sank down to your knees. Shaky fingers gripped the pendant and chain that usually rested beneath your shirt, tears running hot down your face as your forehead gently rested against the wood. The metal in your palm grew warm as pain shot up your injured arm from gripping at the overgrown grass, sobs wracking through your body into the cool night air. You were alone out here, you knew you were. There hadn’t been anyone here since the two of you on that sunny afternoon. The field was quiet as you kneeled before the tree, the very same tree that the two of you spent your afternoons rested under; the tree where she leaned her head on your shoulder, the tree you carved your initials into, the tree under which you learned of love. This tree is where your heart began to understand just why exactly it beated, and this tree is where you found yourself as your heart cracked and spewed out bloody emotion through your lungs and throat. Of course your subconscious brought you here, it's not like you had anywhere else to go. Maria was probably asleep and your new “home” is a less than ideal place to recuperate. You probably would have found a way to put a hole in the concrete pillars or break the porcelain off the edge of the tub you had found in one of the upper floors. Instead you ended up in the one place that you couldn’t destroy. The final sanctuary that you always came to rest in when everything became too much for you. Everything was the same as it had been the last time, from the claw marks and little spots of blood on the bark below carved initials to the ever so slightly singed base of the tree.
It hurt to breathe the air here, not because it was polluted or anything of that sort, but from the self perceived weight the air held within your lungs. The grass was soft under the pads of your fingers, perfuming the night air with enough sweet regret to cover the scent of sweat and electrical burn that radiated from your skin, it seemed to beckon you closer as you rested upon your knees before that great heartbroken oak. Reaching up, you gingerly ran your fingers across the jaggedly carved heart that stood proudly above your head, tattooed onto the flesh of the oak for all to see until the end of time. You wanted it gone, maybe then being here wouldn't feel like someone was stepping on your windpipe, maybe then you wouldn’t be haunted by the echoes of her laughter and her voice and how she looked at you with so much care, it made you feel as though you were the most loved person in all of the world, maybe then you could finally move on and find it within yourself to love another as much as you loved her. You wanted it gone, but you would rather fucking die than bring a blade within an inch of the messily rendered heart. The touch of the wood should burn your skin away, for the sight of the carving was far too holy for a wretch like you to be able to lay claim to. Angels should descend from heaven to smite you for even thinking of such a hallowed place, choirs should sing praises of the sweet grass and proud oak, preachers should give testimony to the consecrated soil that your knees rested on and dug into. This tree, upon this hill, overlooking this field should be a holy site, it deserved such an honor according to both your heart and your mind. Instead all it had was you, the very person who had turned the site into a wide open tomb, the very person who committed the very deicide that stained the hill in sin. Your breath came in stuttering hiccups as you rested your head against the hallowed oak, tears burning hot tracks down your skin. Your body shook, pain shooting up your shoulder as your weight shifted forward, hand dropping from the wood to the earth, clenching handfuls of corrupted earth despite the ache in your bones.
“I’m sorry… I’m so fucking sorry,” you sunk further into the ground as you spoke, your voice choked with tears and a certain tightness of your throat, “Its all my fault, I.. I know it is, mi vida, I know. I should’ve said no to you, maybe then we wouldn’t be in this situation.” Laughing softly, you carefully removed the chain and pendant from your neck, staring at the small crystal that usually hung around your throat. It burned as it rested in your palm. “I know you aren’t mad at me for that, you’ve told me this before… but I can’t help but wonder how we would’ve been if that day had gone differently, if we had just returned home when we had planned instead of playing with a power neither of us had a handle on… Maybe you and I would’ve been happy together still,” you shifted to rest your back against the tree, the warmth of the crystal practically burning a hole into your palm, “maybe you would’ve gone on to design buildings, like how you wanted to. I think I might’ve become a…” You furrowed your eyebrows at the train of thought, wracking your brain for any possible path for yourself other than the one you had taken. “It doesn’t matter what I would’ve become, I know you would’ve loved me no matter the road, I know you love me even now. You know, despite how calmly I’m speaking, my shoulder hurts a lot. Ara- Natasha really did a number on it.” You chuckled yet again, your head hanging over your knees to look at your beloved crystal. “You would’ve loved her, mi vida, she’s everything you wanted in a person that I wasn’t. She's strong, and intelligent, and so beautiful she would make the stars dimmer simply by standing in their light, more than that though, she’s kind. You should’ve seen it… that sorry look she got when she saw me in my cell, how much emotion was in her eyes when we danced together…” Clenching your fingers around the shard, you felt the warmth spread out through your hand, your fingers tingling from the sensation. “If you were here instead of me, I’m sure Natasha wouldn’t have said what she had. Then again, maybe I’m just being a fool.” The night air chilled you to the bone as you sat with your late lover, smoke swirling around you as you prepared to venture back to your temporary home.
Your heart still ached alongside your body, but you felt a sense of catharsis as you returned. The burn in your hand was better than any drug you had known, the tingling of your hand offered sweet release. You knew that your lover was with you at that hallowed ground, of course she was. The crystal had been burning bright in your palm as you spoke, and she always glowed when she was listening.
Wanda thought Natasha was insane when she had proposed her plan, but apparently she was the only one who was concerned as Steve thought it was an excellent idea, and Stark didn’t have any objections despite having been on the missions with the spy and the super soldier. “I’m sorry Nat, but you want to go to the home of the person who has murdered hundreds of innocent people and what? Play house?! Hope to get some information on them? What are you trying to get out of this?!" Steve shot a disapproving look at Wanda for her outburst, but she knew he understood; all his psyche was giving off was worry and hesitation. Bruce felt the same way, but when didn’t he, the only one who really seemed gung ho for this idea aside from Natasha was Tony. His thirst for knowledge always seemed to eclipse his care towards the safety of others, it made Wanda’s jaw clench in fury. The captain was the next to speak, his tone the usual mix of in charge and courteous that gently dominated any room he had to present to. “Wanda, I’m sure Natasha understands the risks and concerns surrounding the infiltration, but I believe she’s more than ready for something like this. Not only that, but Natasha seems to be the only one who can be in a room with the Nightcrawler and not come out harmed either physically or mentally. It's a calculated risk on her part.” Natasha nodded in agreement, her arms crossed over her chest in that stupid, stoic way that she did when she felt as if something was inevitable. “With all due respect Maximoff, there is nothing in this plan that is different than a standard undercover mission that S.H.I.E.L.D. gives to field agents.” Wanda could feel her lip twitching, her hands resisting the urge to twist the silver rings that adorned her fingers. “Field agents don’t try to go and live with a violent psychopath, and field agents sure as hell don’t try to live with the same person who tried to rip out Captain America’s stomach.” Natasha looked frozen in time with how still she stood, eyes narrowed into the bone chilling glare so many had resented being at the end of. It practically straightened Wanda’s spine, her heart dropping with her stomach to the tile floor beneath them. “It wasn’t his stomach.. The intrusion was closer to his-” Steve’s eyes met Bruce’s, shaking his head softly at the scientist, his voice soft as he breathed out a quiet ‘Not the time Banner.’ “I’m going on the mission, Maximoff. It’s already been cleared with the higher ups, I leave tomorrow.” Cold green eyes scanned the boardroom, daring anyone else to challenge the spy’s skill and authority, practically begging for Bruce or Tony to agree with the young witch.
The rest of the meeting was a muddled blur to Wanda, her brain much more focused on things other than statistics and damage reports; who cared about damages when you could just fix them with magic after all. Instead, the witch was focused on Natasha’s impending departure and absence. Instead, she was focused on how to keep Natasha safe during her leave, on how she could find the exact location of the spies soon to be whereabouts that she had oh so carefully left out of the team briefing, on what she should do when she ends up being right about you and the dangers that surrounded staying with you. Instead of focusing on Steve’s droning on about damage control she thought about your weaknesses. Instead of listening to Tony’s short presentation about potential equipment upgrades he would be making, she thought about how best to corner and subdue you. Instead of paying attention to the cold contempt within Natasha’s eyes whenever they met glances, Wanda thought about how relieved she would be when you were finally dead; especially when you were dead by her hand.