#wanda001

[icarusofhousestark]

“You had quite the ride, aye, aunt Peggy? “  Tony whispered and gave her a last kiss. He had been there when she died, and then had called Steve, letting him do the talking. He arranged everything for her funeral. She was where she always wanted to rest. And while her mind had been gone for quite some time now, Tony had taken it quite heavily.  That was a year ago. 

Now he was in front of her grave. “Good choice....she loved those flowers”  he stated at the person arriving next to him. 

[nameoftsar-blog]

Without notice ll Wanda&Nat

She had left through Baltics to London, to Madrid, and there she had met with an old friend from intelligence community who smuggled her on a ship that was going to Mexico, from where she crossed the border and ended up in Texas, in the middle of a cartel fight, and she suddenly felt alive again. She was the hunter again, always underestimated, always deadly. A pleasant change after what had happened in post-soviet bloc. She got emotional, and emotions and spies – they just do not fit together. She got sloppy. They almost got her. But she was still coming back where it felt like home. People who she trusted. At least, that was closest to trust that a double agent could feel.

Even though she had been off the radar since Tony told her that “they know”, Natasha was very aware of what was happening in the world. The world just was not aware about her. Her friends were not aware of her. But she knew what they had been up to. Even emotional, she was still a spy. She kept tabs on everyone and everything. Parts of her accounts were burnt just to keep up this lifeline, knowing, that they were alive and… almost fine, that was important. That was the light that kept Natasha sane, reminded her, how much red she had wiped, did not allow her to fall in the darkness again. But that life-line was one way. And only on her way from Texas Nat realized, she had left them. Just like that.

But after Ross’s statement was dropped, there was no option to avoid home any longer. She had avoided the rift. Her name escaped the disgusting articles, blogs and tweets. Even the press could not establish which side Romanoff had taken.

Sometimes even she could not do that.

Safety house was safe from a lot of things, but Black Widow was not one of them. Natasha waited till the evening, when the city went darker, and her old friends – shadows - came out from corners to hide her. Natasha was sure that Russians had lost track of her somewhere in London, but then again, redhead knew that you can never be sure.

Scaling the wall was not an issue. Natasha’s way of relaxing was cliff-climbing in Arizona, before shit went down and another regime changed, so this felt almost calming. You see, Black Widow was not very sure whether she would like to use the main doors when entering a safe-house. Her intel might be off, and the place might not be the same place Steve thought it to be, though it almost never happens, and might be a trap, and Romanoff did not want to end up in a super-prison or even worse – in the death row. She wanted surprise and darkness on her side. Eastern Europe had done her biding.

Opening the window from outside took one tenth of a second more than Natasha would have preferred, but she got it open. Silent, like a cat, she climbed into the dark kitchen, holding her breath and trying to separate friend from foe. No turning back now.