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“Fury”
“Carter”
“What can I do for you Nick? I'm assuming that is why you have contacted me.” Peggy heard a rough bark of laughter on the end of the line. She had always been blunt with Fury – she got the feeling he appreciated it.
“And I am assuming that you have heard of our new… recruit?”
Peggy let her silence answer that question, and Fury gave an approving grunt.
“I have an assignment for you, Former Director Carter...”
“Do tell, Director Fury”
And that was how, one early summer day, Natasha Romanoff found herself standing on the driveway of a large old house surrounded by fields. She watched as the black SHIELD car pulled away, leaving her truly alone for the first time since she had been discovered and brought in by Clint Barton all those months ago. Closing her eyes she enjoyed the peace for a moment, before running through her mental checks, probing her emotions and carefully sifting through thoughts and impulses as she had been taught by the SHIELD psychiatrists. No desire to run, no need to disappear. Everything seemed to be in order.
Bracing her shoulders she hefted her bag up and knocked on the door. It was opened so quickly that she was sure the woman had been waiting just behind it, watching her closely. And clearly didn't mind her knowing it. She smiled, somehow both amused and comforted by this, and saw an answering flicker in the woman's eyes.
“Agent Romanoff” The woman's voice was smooth and expressionless, gaze direct and back straight despite her age.
“Agent Carter” Natasha replied with a respectful nod.
“Let's stick to Peggy shall we?” Carter stood to one side, allowing her into the hall.
“Peggy” Natasha let the unfamiliar name roll around her mouth, “I am Natasha now” she added, a little shyly, unsure how this change of identity would be received by the famously plain talking Carter.
The older woman merely nodded. “Well, Natasha, we have a room ready for you. Angie is...”
“…. very much looking forward to meeting you!” Another woman, shorter than Carter and with grey hair twisted up in a bun, came bustling around the corner.
“Angie is here” Peggy finished with a fondly amused twist to her lips. “Angie, Natasha Romanoff of SHIELD. Natasha, Angela Martinelli.”
“It's a pleasure” Natasha stuck out a hand, which was ignored as Angie grabbed her for a hug. Natasha stiffened, she couldn't remember the last time someone had voluntarily initiated contact with her. After a moment Angie pulled back, looking into her face hard before patting her cheek.
“You must be starving. I'll just whip up some sandwiches to keep you going until lunch.” She headed out, muttering to herself as she did so leaving Natasha blinking in shock. She looked up at Peggy uncertainly, thrown by this welcome.
“You want me to babysit the Black Widow?”
“You're the only one I trust with this. Plus your house is the most secure non-SHIELD facility in the northern hemisphere.”
“There is a reason for that Nick!” Peggy heard a sigh on the other end of the phone.
“She's been through five months of interrogation, deprogramming, retraining.”
“You cant be sure of anything. She will have spent years as an operative. There are things that Red Room do that SHIELD won't even approach.”
“I know” Fury said bleakly, “She told us about those things.”
Peggy winced, firmly tamping down on her feelings of sympathy for the assassin.
“Look, I know it's a risk, but she came to us. Not once has she gone back on her word, despite the hell we have put her through. I don't want her only experience of the 'good guys' to be doctors and soldiers. Long term, I don’t see that working for us. Or her.”
Peggy stared out of the window over the fields. She could hear Angie humming in the kitchen, smell tomato sauce bubbling on the stove. A risk. And a chance. “Okay” she said eventually, “When?”
Taking in the redheaded girls unsettled posture Peggy smiled at her reassuringly. Maybe Fury was right, maybe despite everything she had seen, or perhaps because of it, she did need to spend some time in the real, normal world. Or at least, as real and normal as was possible.
“You will need to run laps of the fields in order to stay in shape with Angie's cooking” she warned, leading the way up to the room they had prepared for their guest.
“I will be allowed to do that?” Romanoff asked, a thread of hesitation in her voice.
“Of course” Peggy replied, turning to look the girl firmly in the eye. “You are not a prisoner here, Natasha. You are not under guard, or on a mission, or being confined. Fury explained your tracking chip?” She paused and Romanoff nodded. “You are just… learning how to be you.”
The redhead glanced away. “I don't know how to do that” she said softly.
“Well, there are your training parameters. Figure out who Natasha Romanoff is, who she wants to be. And then go on from there.”
Angie pushed the vegetable dish in Natasha's direction, eyebrows raised. “If you don't finish them, it's just going to the chickens.”
Natasha opened her mouth to decline, only to be met with a firm look and another nudge of the dish. She spooned out the last of the food with a grateful, if slightly panicked smile.
“Angie” Peggy said quellingly.
“She needs to eat Pegs. She's a growing girl.” She paused, “Are you? How old are you Natasha?”
Peggy watched as Romanoff took her time finishing the last bite of her dinner. “I don't know” she said simply once she had swallowed. “We think about 18, maybe 20.”
Angie hummed in distress at this, patting Natasha on the shoulder as she got up and passed on her way to the kitchen. “Ready for pudding?”
“Soon. Let her see some sunshine this year. She's been cooped up long enough.”
“Careful Fury, anyone might think you care. Can't ruin that big bad image of yours.” Peggy's tone was dry.
Nick snorted like bull, making her smile. “Fat chance. Don't lose my assassin Carter. She shows promise.” With that he hung up.
*
'Cabin fever' was not a phrase that Natasha was familiar with. She had looked blankly at Peggy the first time the English woman had used it, taking in her exasperated expression and frustrated body language. Natasha wasn't quite sure what she had done wrong, but Angie had gotten mad when she tried running in the rain, and now Peggy was cross when she used the attic stairs as a stand in. Nobody really used the attic, she had thought she would be out of the way there. After a moment Peggy had shaken her head with a sigh and crooked a finger, clearly expecting Natasha to follow. She had lead the confused young woman down to the basement, opening a door and flicking on a light to reveal a small but well endowed gym. It had been a little dusty, many of the machines obviously rarely used but Natasha's eyes had gleamed with enthusiasm at the sight. Peggy had laughed.
“Clean it up a bit and pound away to your hearts content” she said.
So now when it rained so hard that Angie wouldn't let her outside, or when she felt like she was going to crawl out of her own skin in the middle of the night, Natasha had a sanctuary. She also spent more time exploring the house, feeling more secure as she learnt its secrets. She was especially fond of the attic, with its hidden nooks and crannies, and the living room with its wide windows and hints of British grandeur.
This particular storm had lasted for two days, and even her gym room was struggling to keep her occupied. She had spent some time reading, sitting in the library with Peggy (who looked out of the window with a philosophical sigh “Well, the garden needs it”). She had helped Angie rearrange the top shelves of her cupboards (“Careful Natasha! Don't reach over too far!”) and was now prowling around the living room, bored. Inactivity was not something she was used to. She had noticed the photographs dotted around before, but had never really paid attention to them until now. She found herself walking around slowly, oddly fascinated with this glimpse into the lives of her hosts. She smiled at a picture of Angie and Peggy on the beach, taken maybe twenty years ago, laughing into the wind. She bent to get a better view of a large photo of a pile of children taken outside in summertime. She paused by a picture of two girls in their midteens – one blond and slightly curvy, the other brunette with the lanky build that comes of never quite having enough to eat. Both had laughing blue eyes, the blond grinning widely while the brunette had a mischievous half smile on her face that made Natasha's lips curve up in response.
“My great nieces” Peggy said, coming up behind her quietly. “There are an awful lot of boys in this family, and these two can run rings around all of them.” There was pride in her voice.
“Wonder where they learned that” Natasha said dryly, then did her best to disguise a flinch. Apparently Natasha Romanoff was the sort of person who spoke her mind.
Instead of beating her for insolence Peggy laughed. “You might be right” she said fondly. “Come on, Angie's making noises about watching a film.”
When a couple of weeks later Peggy started talking about some visitors who came each summer Natasha didn't link them to the picture. It wasn't until the brunette, now taller and more muscled, jumped out of the back of Peggy's car to land in front of her that she connected the dots. The girl glanced at her quickly before reaching back in the car for her bag then turning back.
“Hi” she said, a shy smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Natasha blinked, too surprised to reply straight away. She couldn't even slip into a character, which worried her. She heard another door slam and they were joined by the blond who was smiling more confidently.
“Hi, you must be Natasha? Aunt Peggy told us you were staying for a while. I'm Sharon. This is Maria.” She jostled the other girls shoulder making her blush.
“I would have got to that” Maria grumbled goodnaturedly.
“Yeah, eventually” Sharon rolled her eyes.
Natasha gave herself a shake and managed to smile. “Hi”
Peggy appeared around the side of the car. “Good, you've met. Dinner will be a little early tonight, Angie has been getting stuff ready for days.” Both visitors beamed, Maria's gaze flickering over Natasha again as they lifted their bags and walked inside, chatting to Peggy.
Over dinner Natasha learned that Maria was at West Point and Sharon at Yale, they were cousins and had been coming to stay with their Aunt Peggy since they were 6 or 7 years old. Sharon was happy to talk about her family, Maria wasn't. Both were fluent in Spanish and Italian, while Maria also spoke French, German and some Chinese. Interestingly, she was learning Russian. Maria liked all animals, Sharon was more a dog person. Sharon talked more and smiled more, but Maria paid attention to her surroundings in a way that was rare.
Natasha wasn't quite sure what she was going to do with all this information, and it felt a little bit wrong to have it all provided so easily. Everyone at SHIELD had been cagey with her, never quite relaxing enough to let this much slip, and while Peggy was friendly she didn't spend much time talking about herself. Natasha didn't feel like trying to pry more from the former agent, it didn't feel respectful. Angie talked a lot, but it was mostly surface chatter or she would be asking about Natasha and how she felt. These two however, especially Sharon, had no problems with trust, no issues with asking or answering questions. It was oddly refreshing.
They also automatically assumed that she would be included in whatever they were doing. Both were active, leading her on long hikes that she enjoyed, filing away the routes in her head for future use. They were pleased that she was using the gym, apparently they had been the only ones in it for a good few years (“can you see Aunt Peggy on a rowing machine? I know she's a badass, but still...”). And they did make spending time inside during storms less boring.
“How many ants” Maria asked, looking seriously at her over the rim of the quiz book from her position on the floor, legs propped up on the sofa, “could you fit in a jumbo jet and it still be able to fly?”
Natasha laughed. “What sort of quiz book is this?”
Maria glanced at the cover. “An old one.”
“Lots.”
Maria looked at Sharon who was curled up on a chair. “Any advance on lots?”
“Lots and lots.”
“Lots and lots wins. 46.5 trillion apparently.”
“A very useful fact for dinner conversation there” Sharon said dryly.
“You were the one who complained that Nat was too good at the usual quizzes, so we are branching out.” Maria turned a page carefully. “Okay, how far away can a slug smell a mushroom from?” She laughed and batted away the cushion Sharon threw at her, before the blond jumped on her and started tickling her. “6 feet!” she gasped, wriggling desperately to escape, “It's 6 feet! I dare you to work that into conversation tonight.”
She did.
Sharon had a pile of work that she was supposed to be completing before term began again, so every so often she would take herself and a heap of papers off to a corner of the library and stay there for a few hours. Maria either didn't have this problem, or had already done all her work. Either way, she seemed perfectly happy to spend time with Natasha by herself. Things were a lot quieter when it was just the two of them, but it was a comfortable sort of quiet. Restful.
Maria hadn't believed her when she said that she had never baked before. She had given Natasha a puzzled look, and pulled out a recipe book.
“Pick something. We'll have a go” she said.
Natasha felt a small stab of panic. She had no idea what to choose. “You decide” she said, trying to sound calm.
Maria took the book back, slightly confused. “What do you like?”
“I don’t know” Natasha said, voice small. For some reason she felt ashamed, and couldn't meet Maria's eyes.
“Okay” the other girl said slowly, “I'm not particularly good at cooking, so lets stick to something easy. Oat cookies sound good?”
Natasha nodded, doing her best to settle as Maria started to gather ingredients and equipment. She followed her instructions, and found herself beginning to enjoy the process of measuring and mixing. “I think I might like baking” she said quietly.
Maria looked at her, a small crease between her eyebrows. “Sometimes you talk like you are two different people. Or like you don't know who you are.”
Natasha paused in her stirring, shocked both at how much she had let slip and how Maria picked it up so fast. “Yeah. I suppose I do.” She resumed mixing, but slower as she tried to find the words to describe her situation, surprised to find that she actually wanted to explain. “I… used to do a lot of bad stuff. Really bad. I had a lot of pretty terrifying learned behaviours and thoughts. I have recently been through a sort of treatment for it all. It's left me a bit jumbled up.”
Maria made a quiet noise of distress in the back of her throat. Natasha tensed, expecting her to walk away but instead the tall girl just brushed a hand softly against the small of her back as she moved around her to check the oven temperature.
Natasha took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I'm learning how to be me” she said, shooting a shy glance at the other girl, trying to see if she understood, “I'm trying to find Natasha.”
Maria nodded slightly, tilting her head to one side. “So is Natasha completely separate from who you were before?”
“No. Not completely. I don’t think that would be possible. But she's pretty different. Natasha has more nightmares for one thing.”
Maria frowned, but although there was sympathy in her eyes, Natasha didn't see pity.
She let her shoulders relax and smirked. “She also really likes Italian food, having her own space and finds cookie dough surprisingly tasty.”
Maria laughed, expression clearing somewhat. “Think of the fun you can have working out what else you like” she teased as she slid a tray of cookies into the oven.
Sharon's holidays ended before Maria's, and the day she was due to leave came around shockingly fast.
“Come on Nat” Sharon called, tossing her bag in the back of the car after saying goodbye to her Aunts. Natasha hesitated, unsure what was expected of her until Maria opened the door for her and gestured for her to get in with a smile. Oh.
She sat in the back while Maria drove and Sharon sang along to cheesy songs on the radio. Maria would join in on the chorus's, Sharon pulling ridiculous moonfaced expressions at her cousin as she professed love in the style of Dolly Parton and The Beetles. Natasha found herself grinning, laughing along with Maria at a particularly melodramatic performance that had Sharon flinging her arms all over the place.
“Watch the driver” Maria spluttered, ducking at one point.
When they reached the bus station the two girls hopped out agilely, Natasha following more slowly. While Maria retrieved the bags Sharon hugged her quickly, a blur of energy already caught up in the buzz of her journey. Natasha returned the hug, finding that she was actually sad to see the blond go. She wondered if this meant that they were friends. She had never had a friend to miss before. Sharon then moved on to her cousin, enthusiastically wrapping her arms around her making Maria laugh and spin her around.
“See you soon loser” with that and a wave Sharon was gone.
The trip back was quieter, Maria humming to herself occasionally while Natasha curled up in her seat, lost in thought.
Maria flopped down on the rug under the trees beside her, setting down two large glasses of juice before leaning back on her elbows.
“Angie says be careful not to burn” she said, tossing a tube of sunblock into Natasha's lap.
Natasha picked it up curiously, flipping open the lid to sniff the contents. “I don’t burn easily”
“Really? But you're pale skinned redhead. Aren't you supposed to be allergic to the sun?”
Natasha smirked, stretching her legs out. “And I'm Russian. But still, no burning.”
“Huh.” Maria lay down. “Didn't know you were Russian”
Natasha hummed. She wondered what it was that made her keep giving people these snippits of information about herself, her real self. Maybe this was why Fury had insisted she spent some time out in the world. But did he mean for her to open up, or to learn how to resist sharing? She couldn't sense any malevolent reasoning behind what she said, but that didn’t mean it wasn't there. Frowning she shook her head, trying to lose the panicked thoughts she could feel piling up.
She gazed down at the girl next to her. Maria's eyes were half lidded against the light that filtered through the leaves, lashes long and slightly curled. Natasha could see the thrum of her heartbeat in her neck, and resisted the urge to brush her fingertips over it. There was a tiny smile playing at the corner of her mouth and she managed to look ridiculously relaxed despite the hard ground.
“You're thinking very loudly” Maria murmured, squinting her eyes slightly more open to look at Natasha.
Natasha shrugged. "Sometimes that happens”
“What, sometimes you think?” Maria grinned, then pulled at her to lie down. “Could you do it more quietly? I'm trying to enjoy not thinking here.”
Natasha let herself fold down beside the brunette, humming in agreement. She did her best to still her mind, letting her focus wander from the sun dappled patterns made by the leaves to the sound of Maria's breathing and the brush of their bare arms against each other. Turned out Natasha Romanoff was not very good at thinking of nothing. At least not yet.
“So, army?” She said eventually, giving up on meditation for the minute.
“Yeah”
She turned to prop herself up on one elbow. “Honestly, you don’t strike me as someone who will follow bad orders very well.”
Maria snorted lightly. “I can pretend quite well. And eventually, I can make sure that there are no bad orders.”
“Quite ambitious”
“Yeah”
Natasha paused, unsure why she asking. “Will it suit you? Will you be happy?”
Maria opened her eyes fully to look at her properly. There was something dark and unreadable in her expression. “I am very good at hiding who I am” she said, “And I will make a difference to the world.”
Natasha held her determined gaze, feeling no doubt that she would do exactly what she said. “Okay” she said softly, reaching out to carefully brush a piece of grass off the other girls shoulder.
Just for a second Maria's expression flickered, then she relaxed again. “Aunt Peggy asked me exactly the same questions” she mused, then grinned, “Except she was a lot scarier than you.”
Natasha believed her.
As the sun started to dip they heard Angie calling for them from the house. Standing Natasha offered the brunette a hand that she accepted easily. After pulling her up Natasha didn't quite release her fully, letting her fingers brush through Maria's.
“How good are you at hiding who you are?” she asked.
“Very” Maria replied, voice a little husky.
Not allowing herself time to overthink Natasha stepped forwards. Maria met her halfway, their lips gently brushing against each other. She felt warm hands settle on her hips and wrapped her own around Maria's neck, kissing her a little more firmly. It was soft, sweet, and by far the best kiss of her life. After a moment they broke apart.
Maria cleared her throat. “Um. Dinner. Angie called. Dinner.”
“Yeah” Natasha breathed, ghosting her lips over Maria's cheek, giving herself just a second more to enjoy their embrace. “Right.”
She stepped back with a rueful smile that Maria returned. Together they gathered up the rug and made their way up to the house.
The day Maria was due to leave Natasha had to squash a sudden surge of panic. Something was wrong. She examined each thought carefully, alert for anything out of place, anything that she couldn't claim as her own, but there was nothing. However she couldn't stay still, pacing from room to room restlessly. Angie shot her a sympathetic look that made no sense at all and tried to get her to sit with a cup of soothing tea. Natasha twitched and fidgeted until with a sigh Peggy told her to go for a run. A long one. Even that didn't help.
She managed to stay still when Maria left though, helping to put her bags in the back of Peggy's car, waiting on the steps as the girl hugged Angie goodbye. Then, suddenly, she was in front of Natasha.
“It was very nice to meet you, Natasha Romanoff” she said, lips curling in a lopsided half smile.
Natasha coughed, looking at the floor before glancing up to meet warm blue eyes. “You too” she said softly.
To her surprise Maria stepped forwards and wrapped her arms around her, kissing her cheek gently. “Good luck” she whispered.
Natasha fought the urge to tangle her hands in Maria's jacket and hold her close, managed not to bury her face in the crook of her neck. Instead she just nodded, feeling the tickle of Maria's hair against her face. “You too” she said again, squeezing the taller girls arm briefly.
And then with a final smile and wave Maria was gone.
Natasha stood there for a long moment, hands thrust deep into her pockets staring blankly at the place where Peggy's car had been. She felt the air shift as Angie came up beside her. “Alright kid?”
She left out a long breath, ruffling her hair. “Apparently Natasha Romanoff likes girls.”
Angie chuckled. “There's nothing wrong with that my love. These Carter women are hard to resist after all.” With that she winked and headed stiffly back up the steps to the house.
*
Natasha could hear Angie humming brightly in the dining room. The woman always seems to be humming, or singing, or chattering away. Natasha wasn't quite sure what to make of it. She thought that she probably admired the old Italian woman for being so comfortable, so content and so open to expressing herself. It was taking some getting used to though. Curiously she poked her head around the door to see what was going on this time. Angie was almost lost in great swathes of curtain material, happily pinning hems.
“Natasha! Excellent, could I just borrow a finger?”
Bemused, Natasha went over and held on to the corner she was handed as Angie worked some safety pins into place.
“Wonderful” Angie surveyed her work, hands on hips. “Now, where did I put the sewing machine...” she frowned for a moment then her expression cleared. “Ah, it's up in the loft”
“Okay” Natasha knew where the loft hatch was, and it was well within her reach. She headed up.
“Natasha? What are you doing?” Angie came hurrying after her.
“Going up in the loft” Natasha said.
“No! You need a ladder. And one of us to hold the bottom in case it slips. And there is no way you are going up there in socks, you need proper shoes on. There's all sorts of rubbish up there that you could tread on.”
“But...” Natasha eyed the hatch. She could jump up there, no problem.
“No. It's not safe. Peggy! Where did we put the ladder?”
“What? Why?” Peggy emerged from the living room, reading glasses on. She looked between Natasha and Angie. “What's going on?”
“I was going to go up in the loft” Natasha said, voice small. She wasn't sure what was wrong, but something was. This job should be easy, why was she not trusted to carry it out?
“She is not going up into the loft without the ladder. What if she falls?”
Natasha frowned. “I don't fall”
Peggy's confused expression cleared. “Ah. Natasha, come with me. I can't manage the ladder by myself.”
Natasha trailed after the English woman, doing her best to hide her fear that she had been found inadequate. Peggy had never shown any inclination to punish her. Maybe she would just be reassigned.
“So” Peggy said as she unlocked the door to a cobweb strewn shed, “the loft.”
Natasha waited for her to elaborate. The silence stretched between them. She knew what Peggy was doing, had done it many times herself. That didn't make the technique any less effective, though she did grind her teeth as she explained. “Angie wanted her sewing machine. She said it was up there. I was going to get it.”
“And then she stopped you, and you don't know why? Because it's such a small thing, and you were going to do it for her?”
Natasha nodded, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Here it came…
“Oh you utter pillock” Peggy said, and her voice sounded almost fond even if Natasha was sure that she had just been insulted, “she was worried about you. She doesn't want you to hurt yourself.”
“Hurt myself?”
Peggy nodded, watching her kindly.
“But… I would not hurt myself.”
“You know that. I know that. Angie… well, you could try telling her that but it won't make any difference. She will still worry. She cares about you, so she wants to look after you. I used to jump out of aeroplanes on a semi-regular basis but she would worry if I took a bus across town.”
Natasha struggled with this for a moment, brow furrowed.
Peggy put a finger under her chin, lifting her face so that she could meet her eyes. “You have value. Not just as an asset or an agent, not just because of the jobs you can do. You, Natasha Romanoff, have value as the person you are. Learn to recognise it, otherwise some people will take advantage of you and you will pass by the ones who care.”
Staring up at Peggy's serious expression and warm gaze Natasha nodded, swallowing hard against the sudden lump in her throat.
Peggy smiled. “And make sure you always wear a seat belt when driving with Angie.” She rolled her eyes “Trust me, its not worth the drama.” She opened the door and shuffled her way in to the back.
Natasha managed a shaky smile, feeling off balance and unsure of herself. As she bent to pick up her end of the ladder she probed her mind desperately, afraid something had gone wrong. She found nothing, but was still unable to completely believe Peggy's interpretation of events.
Angie met them at the door. “I've found you some good shoes” she beamed.
*
When the time came for her to leave Peggy and Angie and return to the Triskelion Natasha found herself feeling a strange reluctance. She wanted to start work, to start being useful and productive. The only way that was going to happen was by finishing her training and qualifying as a specialist agent. So why was she almost dreading the day of her departure? She squirreled herself away in quiet corners, trying to figure out what her emotions meant. She had herself half convinced that this hesitancy was a last ditch safety switch missed by the psychiatrists, Red Rooms final attempt to stop her working for anyone but themselves.
Peggy had noticed the young assassin withdrawing. Her favourite spot seemed to be beneath the trees at the end of the garden, so that was where she started looking. The girl was sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest, head resting on her arms.
“Natasha”
The redhead glanced up. She looked so bewildered and lost, Peggy felt her heart constrict. She settled herself on a handy log.
“What is bothering you?” she asked simply.
Natasha shrugged. “Wish I knew” her voice was rough.
Peggy waited, hoping that she would open up more.
After a moment Natasha continued. “I want to go, but I don’t want to go.” She ran a hand through her hair. “It is not logical, it makes no sense. And I don’t know why”
“And you always want to know why” Peggy said, allowing warmth to colour her voice.
Natasha smiled wryly. “I do”
“People don’t always come with easy answers. That includes you.”
“Maybe I'm not used to being 'people' yet.”
Peggy smiled. “A lot of others would say the same thing. It's normal.”
Natasha grunted. “It's stupid.”
“Maybe”
The girl sighed, shoulders slumping slightly. “I am so tired of not understanding. I just… want to be me.”
For a brief second Peggy let sympathy show in her eyes. “You are getting there Natasha. You are.” She paused, “And we are going to miss you too.” She smiled at the look of shock that passed over the redheads face, then stood, patting her shoulder as she passed.
The child worked so hard, it wasn't surprising that her feelings sometimes overtook her without her noticing. Peggy realised that she no longer thought of Natasha as a potential threat, or even as an asset. She was just… Natasha.
The evening before she left Angie cooked all of her favourite food. The table was groaning under the weight of all the dishes.
“I didn’t want you too miss out” Angie said, when Natasha commented. Impulsively the redhead wrapped her arms around the woman in a brief, slightly uncomfortable hug.
“Thank you” she muttered.
“My pleasure kid. Now, eat. English! Food's ready!”
Saying goodbye the following day left Natasha in a jumble. Angie looked at her with a twinkle in her eyes hidden somewhat by tears.
“I'm not going to ask for postcards or updates” she said, for the first time alluding to the fact that she knew who Natasha was and what she would be doing with her time. “But do come and visit.”
Peggy stood with her waiting for the SHIELD car to draw up. “Natasha Romanoff is a good person. Remember that.” The older woman's face was open, and Natasha did her best to believe her.
She didn't look back as she left. It took all of her willpower, but she didn't.
~*~
Clint Barton was an ass, and a walking disaster. Natasha realised this shortly after qualifying as a SHIELD agent. He was irreverent, frequently rude and had a distressing fondness for pranks. He was also one of the few people she could stand to be herself around. He didn’t mind silence, called her on her shit rather than sidling away terrified and would turn weird into a joke. In return it seemed all she had to do was be there. Just being was enough. It was a very strange feeling.
After a couple of ops that went FUBAR she was attached to Agent Coulson on a semi-permanent basis. As handlers went he was very good, as people went he was excellent. She never felt like he was judging her, and he never made an issue of the fact that she was a petite woman, which was something the other agents she worked with had struggled with. Coulson, Natasha thought, understood why Red Room picked attractive woman to be its weapon. She was glad he was on the side of good.
The other senior agent she worked with most was Hand. Agent Hand reminded her of Peggy, all no nonsense proficiency and bloody-minded determination. She knew where she stood with the tall analyst, and appreciated it.
These three, and Fury with his blunt, straight forward manner and his twisty, convoluted mind were what gave her hope in those first few months. Hearing whispers in the corridors when she passed got old fast. Seeing other agents flinch when she picked up a gun soon started to grate on her nerves. As if she would need a weapon to do damage...
"Don't scowl so much" Clint suggested during one afternoon gym session. "Show them what a fluffy bunny you really are."
She raised an eyebrow at his choice of words, getting a grin in response.
"Seriously though, if you look a little bit less like you want to kill everyone all the time, they might relax."
"I don't though" she said, confused.
"Okay, so your normal face is terrifying. You look like you are calculating kill shots."
Natasha frowned.
"Tasha" Clint's voice was unexpectedly gentle "Think less. Let things come naturally."
"Do you know what comes naturally to me?" She spat.
"No. And neither do you." He smirked. "Let's find out."
~*~
Honestly, Natasha hadn't shown much interest in the new deputy director. She knew that they were being transferred from the Madripoor base, that they had been picked in a hurried power play between Fury and the WSC (no-one could agree on which side had won said power play. Natasha was reserving judgement) and that there were already unhappy mutterings about them from agents passed over for promotion. She had been to Madripoor once, years ago. It had been very hot, sticky and unpleasant. She didn’t remember anyone there of the calibre needed to run SHIELD, so the new deputy must have been stationed there in the past couple of years. As the person themselves was due to turn up at the Triskelion in the next few hours she saw no reason to dig any further. If they lasted more than a month she would be impressed.
“Agent Romanoff”
It took all of Natasha's training not to flinch. She knew that voice.
“Commander Hill” she replied evenly, before turning around.
It was indeed Maria Hill standing in front of her, tall, lean, competent. There was a small flicker of recognition and humour in her eyes, well buried under layers of professionalism and cool detachment. The damn woman had known she would be here. Of course she had. Natasha allowed a tight smile to cross her own face, hiding her inner turmoil. Hill carried herself with natural authority. It was interesting to see the potential she had shown years ago come to reality, although Natasha found herself more curious about the small scar above her left eyebrow, the shadows in those eyes, the reserve in her expression. She gave herself a mental shake.
“I trust you are settling in well?” She asked politely as they walked on.
“Well enough. The weather here is better. And the food.” Natasha snorted quietly, and saw a tiny twitch that might be a smile on Hill's face. “Would you do me a favour? Tell Coulson that his record no long stands.” There was definitely a smile at the corner of her mouth now.
“I will pass that on”
The deputy Director nodded once as a farewell? Dismissal? as she turned off down another corridor, leaving Natasha inexplicably shaken. One thing she was sure of though – Fury had won. There was no way the WSC would have allowed a Carter into the position of Second-in-Command through choice.
“You could have told me. I didn't even know she was with SHIELD” Natasha grumbled.
“I thought you would have found out! Come on Widow...” Peggy moved stiffly to the sink and began to fill a kettle with water.
“It got all political, I didn't think the candidate would last two minutes.” Natasha sighed. Maybe she had become too used to the security SHIELD provided, become too complacent.
Peggy frowned. “Pay attention to political Natasha. You never know when you will be the one they are after.”
“Are you asking me to keep an eye on Hill?”
“Maria's a big girl”
Natasha hummed in unconscious agreement, missing the sidelong glance that Peggy threw at her.
~*~
"Barton's been compromised."
Not much had the ability to distract her when she was working. Coulson knew her weaknesses. She called them debt. He tried to relabel them as 'progress', 'loyalty' and 'team bonds' but really, how could they be anything but a liability? Surely this proved it.
“It's love, Natasha” Peggy had said when she had tried to describe her team to her, “they are your friends, you trust them, you love them.” She had glanced at the assassin's suddenly blank expression and added “There's nothing wrong with that.”
“I don't think I have ever loved anyone before” Natasha said, voice distant. A flash of blue eyes and the smell of sunblock filled her mind briefly, then was gone.
Peggy had given an uncharacteristic snort. “Maybe you just didn't recognise it for what it was.”
Debt, loyalty, love. Whichever, it did not change the fact that she was going to get Clint back. And then kick his ass.
Natasha felt like she had lived through entire lifetimes in the time between that call from Coulson and her return to the helicarrier after the battle. Aliens, Avengers, Tony fucking Stark... And she had been so focussed on Clint but had lost Coulson instead. There were other people missing, their absence more obvious now she was back on the carrier than it had been on the ground. She glanced around a little wildly, letting out a tiny sigh of relief when a flash of dark hair caught her eye.
The commander looked drained, an angry bruise blooming around a cut on her cheekbone and she moved a just a bit hesitantly with none of her usual animal like grace. Probably bruised hips, possibly jarred back Natasha thought to herself. Her fingers twitched and she suppressed the urge to sooth the wound on Hill's face. Curling her hands into fists she noticed how the commander was running her eyes over all the returning agents and avengers, checking for serious injuries. She met her eyes and nodded once, in acknowledgement. The woman looked more than tired, grief and shock and lingering fear battled under her surface. Natasha realised that she had never asked Coulson how he knew Hill. She had never thought to ask if they had trained together, if he had taught her, what that record had been. She had never asked about any other agents that he had trained. And now she would never know. Gritting her teeth she headed towards medical to find Clint. There at least, there was something she could do.
~*~
Natasha clenched her jaw in frustration. Agent Miller's team had moved in far too soon, spooking the mark and now they were in danger of losing him completely. And their infuriating handler Parker could not see the problem that was gathering momentum right in front of his nose.
“Miller, pull back” she hissed down the comms, doing her best to salvage the situation.
“Negative” came the prompt, infuriatingly confident reply. God save her from arrogant soldiers.
“Shits gonna go down Nat” Clint said laconically on their private frequency. She glanced up at the building where he had hidden himself.
“I know” she growled.
“Okay, lets see if we can actually achieve something here, shall we?” Natasha bristled automatically at the words before realising that it was not Parker on the line. A slow, grim smile spread across her face at the same time as Clint's quiet whoop.
“Somebody's in trouble if they have got the commander involved” he said.
“Mark is heading north.” Natasha could almost see Hill standing in front of screens, rapidly evaluating the situation on the ground. “Miller, fall back. Now. Head east, sou'east and stay put.” Hill's voice was firm and clearly expected no argument.
“Sit, stay” Clint breathed, tone gleeful.
“Widow, get around the front of him. If you can do so in the next two minutes then he will still caught between you and Barton.”
“Understood” Natasha rose fluidly.
“Barton, non lethal shots only. And try not to break anything important.”
“Yessir”
~*~
Following the embarrassing shock of being the last to know Maria Hill had been promoted Natasha had made it a personal mission to know what was going on in and around the corridors of SHIELD. Usually this was boring, banal and repetitive. Occasionally it was useful and an anonymous note might make its way to the desk of someone like Hill or Hand. Every so often she found something that she tucked away, force of habit making her collect insurance and favours like Coulson had collected memorabilia.
It also led to this moment. She sat patiently in an empty, currently uninhabited office with her feet up on the desk. It was just getting to the point where she was starting to regret not bringing a sudoku with her (she was still not very good at doing nothing) when footsteps and voices approached. The door opened and a woman flicked on the light then stopped dead with surprise. Twisting the chair slightly Natasha saluted her lazily, a smirk playing at the corner of her mouth.
The woman gave an amused huff. “I feel like I should have seen this coming” she said dryly, walking in and dumping a bag on the floor.
“Welcome to SHIELD Agent Thirteen” Natasha grinned.
*
Natasha kept up her visits to Peggy even after Angie had passed away.
“I don't know what to say!”
“Don't worry about that, just be there” Clint had said, giving her a rough hug and a shove out of the door.
She had helped her pack up some boxes when she decided to move to a smaller condo. It hadn't been a surprise when Hill turned up, silently joining in with the packing. It had been a surprise when Peggy handed her the keys.
“You're living here?” Natasha had asked. Somehow she had imagined Hill would have a modern, basic flat somewhere anonymous.
“Renting. Aunt Peggy is now officially my landlord.” There had been a hint of forced humour in the tall woman's voice, and her eyes were worried as she looked at the elderly Brit.
Peggy caught her look. “Stop that Maria” she had scolded, straightening her back slowly.
“Natasha, you are more than welcome to keep coming here for the gardens and trails if you wish.”
Natasha had eyed her commander, but saw nothing but agreement and acceptance there. “Thank you” she said.
She didn't go back to the house, but she did fairly regularly visit Peggy in her new place, occasionally meeting Sharon or Maria there. Now and then she would see Steve, his face filled with an obscure pain and longing. She did her best to make herself available after those times, providing him with quiet support in the gym or on runs.
~*~
“So” Clint paused and there was the familiar thwip/thunk noise as his arrow hit the centre of the target “What's this Steve is saying about you trying to set him up? You've got the poor boy all confused.”
Natasha narrowed her eyes at her own target, took a step back and with a smooth overhand throw another knife joined those already pinned to the board. “I think it's time he got out more. Moved on. Opened up. All that jazz.”
“Uh-huh” Clint didn't sound convinced, “Because as a group we are so open and emotionally available?”
Natasha rolled her eyes. “Just because we are screwed up doesn't mean he has to be.”
“Nat, he's woken up in a new age. His girlfriend is now a 90 year old lesbian farmer and he has to deal with Stark on a weekly basis. Guy's screwed up.”
“Bisexual” Natasha corrected, squinting at the next target.
“My point stands.”
“So does mine. He needs to get out more. Plus I know his type.”
“Yeah” Clint breathed softly. There was a moment of quiet as he picked his next arrow. “So you and Hill...”
Natasha's head whipped around “What?”
“You know” Clint waved his hand vaguely and her gaze followed the exploding arrow so casually grasped in it before snapping back to his face “you have this thing.”
“We do not have a 'thing'”
He smirked “Well, you certainly have the potential for a thing. If you ever unwound yourselves enough to see it.” He fluidly released the arrow without looking, wiggling his eyebrows at her. “Maybe you should unwind each other.”
They both watched as the far target blew up, Natasha imagining a certain smart mouthed archer in its place.
“There is no 'thing'”
“Sure, whatever. You keep telling yourself that, see where it gets you.” He gave her a shit eating grin “Does that mean you will set Steve up with Hill then? She seems like his type.”
“I am not taking relationship advice – for me or Steve – from you” Natasha said firmly, before spinning and releasing her final knife. It sped end over end down the range, splitting one of Clint's arrows right through the middle to land dead centre of the target. “Enjoy Afghanistan.”
She left the range, the sound of Clint's chuckles following her.
She wasn't going to suggest Hill to Steve though – she didn't think the Carter family needed that much drama. She was pretty sure that even the more trashy television shows didn't cover what to do if you started to date your ex girlfriends great niece. Although… Sharon would be good for him. And he would treat her like a gentleman. Natasha sighed to herself. People were far more complicated than her training had made out they would be.
*
As Fury flatlined, finally giving up his fight for life after the attack at Steve's flat, Natasha felt her entire body go numb. For long seconds she couldn't move, speak, think. She was aware of Steve, similarly frozen in disbelief on one side and Hill, slowly crumbling on the other. A most unlikely trio watching a most unlikely event. There was a loud noise from the other side of the door as a trolley bashed into a wall. The shock snapped her back into action, her first instinct to turn to Hill, to have her explain what the plan was. Maria's face was ashy white, her eyes huge and unseeing. Natasha fled.
“She will want to see him first” Hill didn't look at her, moving down the tunnel at a pace that was just within her capabilities considering the bullet wound in her shoulder.
Betrayed. That is how Natasha felt on seeing Fury alive. The relief at him actually being there, propped up and snarking was mixed with unexpected, white hot betrayal. She shot a side glance in Hill's direction, noting the slight uncomfortable set to her shoulders. Good. Yes, Maria had probably kept Fury alive, and yes, that action had probably saved millions of lives. But right now, Natasha was irrationally mad with the young commander and she was damn well going to make the most of it. It took her mind off the sickening pain in her shoulder, and left no room for the other thoughts trying to get her attention.
Once she saw the expression in Steve's eyes as he talked about Bucky Barnes, Natasha realised where she had been going wrong trying to set him up, even if the great lug didn't recognise it himself yet. In that moment she promised herself that she would do all that she could to help Steve find his friend. Which led her to Pepper Pots. While she could organise plane tickets and sufficient funds for the trip to her contact in Ukraine, it would take time. Especially now that she had dumped all of SHIELDS secrets onto the web. An afternoon coffee with Pepper would be far more time effective, not to mention pleasant.
As she exited the lift on the floor of Pepper's office she heard familiar voices. Striding down the corridor towards her were Pepper herself and Maria Hill, who was dressed up in a blazer and skirt. The image was so far removed from the field suit or torn t-shirt and cargos combo she had been wearing a couple of days earlier that Natasha couldn't help but stare. Hill shot her a slightly quizzical glance as Pepper greeted her warmly before turning back to the tall brunette.
“So if you head down to HR, they will carry out the tests.”
Natasha felt her eyebrows shoot up and she tensed automatically. Maria gave her a quick 'stand down' look and smiled with bland politeness.
“Ah yes, lie detectors. Never fail.”
Natasha snorted and Pepper's lips twitched indulgently. “Don't say anything that I don't want to hear” she warned. “Two floors down and first door on the left.”
Maria nodded to them both and headed off.
Pepper turned to Natasha. “Okay, what can I do for you? Something tells me you aren't looking for a job.”
A smile pulled at the corner of Natasha's mouth. “I hope SI doesn't need my particular skill set.”
"I am occasionally tempted..." Pepper ushered her into her office. "But then I think about the mess. So what can I do for you?"
"It's not for me. It's Steve."
Handing over the packet of information, seeing the hope in Steve's eyes made Natasha feel like herself for the first time in days. She almost wavered in her resolution and considered joining him and Sam. She could use her skills to help her friends... But no. There was a reason why she had to stay away, go deep under for a while. Now that everyone knew who Natasha Romanoff was, she had to make sure that she still did. And had to come up with covers comfortable to slip on over the top. That would take time, and space.
~*~
After the battle with Ultron, after the immediate fallout had been dealt with, Natasha sat watching blankly as Clint packed up to go to his farm. He sighed, looking at her with an expression somewhere between exasperation and concern.
“You need to sort your head out Tasha”
She tried to look offended, but her heart wasn't in it and she could see that he wasn't fooled.
“Okay, so after every big op we have done that has gone to hell in a handbasket, you have gone off to spend time alone. Budapest, Battle of New York, Project Insight...”
She nodded slowly, allowing his point.
“This time you have been plastered to my side or Steve's like a tenacious tick. A very nice tick, but you get my point. Maybe you need to find some space, deal with stuff.” He paused and tossed a selection of magazines into a box. “Figure out what it is that you are avoiding and stop avoiding it.”
Then he shoved her off the desk so he could get at the drawers underneath.
Clint Barton might be an ass on a semi-regular basis, but he cared about people and understood her like few others ever would. Natasha supposed that meant she should at least consider his advice.
She found herself an old pick up truck, battered and anonymous, filled it with petrol, rugs and trashy novels and set off with no destination in mind. For the first week she slept badly in cheap motels and dreamt of Bruce. She worried about him and what he was doing now. She went over their interactions in embarrassing detail like a lovesick teenager. She found herself contemplating who she had become around him, and with the gift of time and distance she struggled to recognise that person. 'Know your value' Peggy had taught her. Well, she had nearly turned her back on that to make herself something that Bruce's insecurities could accept. Natasha had given up trying to rest at that point, slipping out of the motel and driving fast. At least she had stayed true to herself at the end. When it had mattered most, she had stayed Natasha Romanoff.
For the second week she stayed on the road for as long as possible, the constant movement soothing her. When it was fine she slept in the back, staring up at endless stars and thought of Clint and Laura, Thor and Jane, Pepper and Tony. When it rained she staying in the cab, listening to the drumming drops, her mind turning to Steve, Sam and their ongoing, never ending search for James Barnes.
The third week she decided that she had had enough of driving. She found a park, bought a tent and walked. All day, every day she walked, the rhythm calming. It reminded her of the time when she first allowed out into the world after SHIELD had deprogrammed her, when she stayed with Peggy and Angie and hiked the surrounding countryside. So it was perhaps not surprising that her thoughts now included Maria.
Maria, who had never told her who to be, had never asked her to change, patiently accepting Natasha as she was. Even when she returned from missions sullen and uncommunicative, or snarling with adrenaline, Maria was there to debrief her, waiting with a good cup of coffee and intelligent questions that helped her to settle and work through the issues brought up.
Maria, steady and reliable back at base working to keep them safe.
Maria, unexpectedly gorgeous in red and gold.
Maria, who brought a fucking garter gun to a party (and yes, Natasha had done the same but really, only one of them was a messed up assassin).
Maria, who had calmly sat pulling glass out of her own foot while all those around her started to panic.
Maria, tall and fierce and lovely on the bridge of the helicarrier, bringing them all home.
Home. She turned around, new purpose in her steps as she started to make her way back to the truck.
'You have value.'
'People don’t always come with easy answers. That includes you.'
' Think less. Let things come naturally'
'So you and Hill… You have this thing'
“How good are you at hiding who you are?”
“Very”
Home.
Natasha let herself into the house quietly. Very little appeared to have changed since Maria had taken over living there. She could almost smell Angie's lasagne, felt like if she turned around quickly enough she would see Peggy standing by the window. On the way out to the porch she left a note on the kitchen counter:
'So Natasha Romanoff is apparently the sort of person who-
1. never quite gets over her teenage crush
2. does not deal with point 1 well
3. likes spicy pizza toppings'
Finally a car drew up and a door slammed. She could hear Maria moving around inside the house and stood up, feeling too twitchy to stay seated. Eventually the door slid open.
“I knew about point 3” Maria came and stood next to her by the porch railings and passed a steaming mug of tea in her direction. “Pizza will be here in about half an hour.”
“1 and 2 a surprise?”
Maria blinked at her. “Natasha Romanoff? Never quite getting over me? Yes, that was a surprise.”
“Really?” Natasha looked at her doubtfully.
Maria shot her a sidelong glance, a glint of humour appearing in her eyes. “The SHIELD gossip mongers had you with half the men in the organisation.” Maria drank some of her tea before adding hurriedly, as if afraid Natasha might think she was serious “Which is, was and never will be any of my business.”
“How much truth is there in gossip?” Natasha asked teasingly.
“As if I would keep tabs on my staff” Maria replied, mock offended.
“As if you wouldn't, Commander Hill.”
“Not on you” Maria said, voice quiet. “Never on you”
Natasha stared out into the gloom for a long moment before turning back to the tall woman. “Thank you” she said, and Maria just shrugged.
“I trusted you to do what was right. Still do. Anything else you did or didn't do on the side, well, you deserve whatever makes you happy.”
Natasha took a moment to process that, feeling Maria watching her closely. “You were my first kiss” she said eventually. She took in Maria's faintly dubious expression and smiled, clarifying “Natasha's first kiss. The first person I actually chose to kiss.”
“Wow” Maria murmured, looking slightly shocked. “I'm glad I didn’t know that at the time. Too much pressure for twenty year old me.”
Natasha grinned, jostling the other woman with her elbow. “You coped quite well” she teased, and took a sip of her tea. “I think… I think that it is your business. As Maria, it is your business. Ask away.”
“I don’t need...”
“Maria” Natasha huffed, “I am trying to be open here. Give me something to work with.”
Maria rolled her eyes and gave her a wry smile, obviously deciding to play along. “Okay. Clint?”
“Older brother” Natasha said promptly.
“Steve?”
“Younger brother. Which is weird… but still”
Maria paused, a more serious expression settling on her face. “Bruce.”
“A… how would you say it… stand in? Safe bet?” Natasha frowned “I did say I haven't dealt with it well.” She scrubbed at her face, trying to find the right words.
Maria set down her mug with a concerned expression on her face. “Hey, don't worry. You don't have to explain anything to me.”
“I do” Natasha ran a hand through her hair, frustrated. “I mean, I want to.”
“Why?” Maria asked softly.
“Because!” Natasha threw her arms up in the air, exasperated at her inability to express what she meant to say. With a huff she stepped forwards smoothly into Maria's space, slipped one hand around her neck and reached up to place a gentle, chaste kiss on her lips. “Because” she repeated quietly, pulling back a little.
“Huh” Maria looked completely stunned. She closed her eyes for a long moment which felt like forever to Natasha, unsure if she should move away more, or leave, or perhaps start looking for a new job. “Okay” Maria murmured eventually, opening her eyes to meet Natasha's worried gaze.
“Okay?”
“Okay” Maria leant forwards slightly and placed a hand lightly on Natasha's waist, meeting her as she moved in eagerly for another more lingering kiss that made her head swim, lips moving over each other, chasing and teasing.
“Okay” Natasha breathed into Maria's mouth, tugging her closer and melting into the heat of her body. She swore she felt the other woman smile as she curled her fingers in the soft, dark hair at the nape of her neck.
~*~
Natasha woke up slowly, revelling in the fact that she could do so rather than having to roll out of bed fully alert. With a soft sigh she reached over, patting at the warm spot behind her. She frowned, until she caught the sounds of movement further in the apartment. Closing her eyes she waited, the scent of coffee reaching her nose not long later. The bed dipped and she allowed herself to shift with the movement, rolling into the long, deliciously strong body behind her.
“Morning” minty breath tickled her ear and an arm wrapped around her, pulling her closer. With a contented hum she reached back to brush her fingers over silky smooth skin.
“Coffee on your left”
Natasha smiled. “You know me so well”
Maria chuckled “I do” she murmured, nuzzling red hair aside to press a kiss to her shoulder.