Life is ever changing. Sometimes it runs in the vein of good things, easy and simple. Most often it goes the opposite. It was an aspect Natasha had learned a long time ago, in chapters of her life that had been closed, but seemed incapable of remaining that way.
No matter what she did, it seemed like she was always running. Either from something, someone or circumstances. It wasn’t what she wanted to be defined by, but at this point it was the only thing she felt she could do right and well anymore. Well besides being a triple impostor apparently.
Another thing she seemed good at doing?
New York was a big city, so not being noticed wasn’t that hard, even when the entire world was looking for you. But time had passed and for the most part she was forgotten, just a blip in a world of endless chaos that was normal anymore. So she could still live in her apartment with her cat, she could come and go and she pleased and how. But that didn’t mean she didn’t take precautions. Sam had been right to call her paranoid, but it kept her alive and free. And when a system isn’t broken, you don’t fix it.
Today she was a blonde, her red curls tucked beneath an almost silvery bob length. Last week it was way deep brunette. She considered cutting her hair again a few times, as it would be easier for a couple of weeks to stuff under a wig, but at the same time she had just gotten it back to the length it was now. While it grew quicker than normal, it still took some time to get beyond her shoulders.
Along with changing up her hair, her attire was also easily modified to suit whatever persona she was inhabiting. The hair had oddly inspired her to don more loose clothing than she might normally, taking up a sort of art chic vibe as she wandered to go get some coffee, check out some sources of news and meet up with a few contacts that kept her in the loop in case she needed to get out of town in a hurry. But even with all of the various situations she was still able to lay low and do a bit of work here and there under her various guises and identities she had forged from the ashes of the old ones SHIELD’s fall had destroyed.
Life seemed as normal as it could become and get, but something was missing.
Natasha did not mind being on her own, most predators were fine with it. But as much as she calmed not to feel or be human, she was and prone to such needs, like attachment. Of having someone else there.
For the first time in a very long time, Natasha felt truly alone.
And she didn’t care for it.
But she was doing what she had to do to keep not only herself safe, but others. She thought countless of times of reaching out, but knew better of it. No, it was best to just keep to herself until things quieted even more or some sort of bullshit occurred that required them to all pull together again. Though if she had her preference, she’d rather the quieting, for she was as tired as she was lonely along with craving something normal and stable and real.
