Taking the bottle of water with her, Natasha slipped into the washroom and closed the door behind her. After using the toilet she washed her hands and splashed water on her face before the soft mewling sounds coming from the tub drew her over.
“Hello little one,” she said quietly, kneeling on the floor beside the tub. The kitten was sitting in the middle of the blanket looking dozy and pitiful. “Having a rough day?” It laid its ears back and cried a little louder at the sight and sound of her. “Me too.”
Cupping her hand, she poured a little water in and lowered it into the tub. She smiled when the kitten stumbled forward for a drink, but there was a distinct sadness in her eyes that didn’t fade. “You’ll get through it. You’re strong.”
When the water was gone she turned her hand to pet the furball but her movement was too quick and the kitten still disoriented from the medication and it struck out, drawing blood from the back of her hand. Snatching her hand out of reach, Natasha tried to block out the image, the cat and the blood; tried to forget the dream from the other night, the dream of memories. She hadn’t wanted another pet, not after what had happened to the last one... what she had done to the last one, and now...
Breathe. Just breathe.
Pushing up from the floor, she ignored the kitten’s cries this time and walked back over to the sink to wash off the bit of blood and clean the scratch like she’d told Clint to do earlier that day. She could hear his voice in the other room, just a faint murmur through the walls separating them, but she knew there were more than just these physical walls now. All the progress they had made they had been closer than ever, and now this. Drying off her hands, she placed them over her stomach. It wasn’t anything yet, just a clump of cells. There were no eyes, no nose, no hands, no bones. It was nothing, not human, not alive.
“I can’t,” she whispered again, before a very different sound in the quiet house drew her attention. Silently opening the door, she moved back toward the living room, her bare feet making no sound. What she found made her heart break. He tried so hard to be strong for her, to do whatever she thought she needed, to put himself second, and she had let him, had told herself it was okay. He didn’t want this child, he had told her he never wanted to be a father, but saying that when the option wasn’t there and meaning it when it was were two different things. When they talked about it before it had been hypothetical, and it had been easy to give up the chance, but now that it was a possibility and she was taking the chance from him it was entirely different.
Moving to the side of the sofa, she once again knelt on the floor, her arm going around his back to rub soothing circles that she knew would offer no real comfort.
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Date: 2014-06-09 11:14 pm (UTC)From:“Hello little one,” she said quietly, kneeling on the floor beside the tub. The kitten was sitting in the middle of the blanket looking dozy and pitiful. “Having a rough day?” It laid its ears back and cried a little louder at the sight and sound of her. “Me too.”
Cupping her hand, she poured a little water in and lowered it into the tub. She smiled when the kitten stumbled forward for a drink, but there was a distinct sadness in her eyes that didn’t fade. “You’ll get through it. You’re strong.”
When the water was gone she turned her hand to pet the furball but her movement was too quick and the kitten still disoriented from the medication and it struck out, drawing blood from the back of her hand. Snatching her hand out of reach, Natasha tried to block out the image, the cat and the blood; tried to forget the dream from the other night, the dream of memories. She hadn’t wanted another pet, not after what had happened to the last one... what she had done to the last one, and now...
Breathe. Just breathe.
Pushing up from the floor, she ignored the kitten’s cries this time and walked back over to the sink to wash off the bit of blood and clean the scratch like she’d told Clint to do earlier that day. She could hear his voice in the other room, just a faint murmur through the walls separating them, but she knew there were more than just these physical walls now. All the progress they had made they had been closer than ever, and now this. Drying off her hands, she placed them over her stomach. It wasn’t anything yet, just a clump of cells. There were no eyes, no nose, no hands, no bones. It was nothing, not human, not alive.
“I can’t,” she whispered again, before a very different sound in the quiet house drew her attention. Silently opening the door, she moved back toward the living room, her bare feet making no sound. What she found made her heart break. He tried so hard to be strong for her, to do whatever she thought she needed, to put himself second, and she had let him, had told herself it was okay. He didn’t want this child, he had told her he never wanted to be a father, but saying that when the option wasn’t there and meaning it when it was were two different things. When they talked about it before it had been hypothetical, and it had been easy to give up the chance, but now that it was a possibility and she was taking the chance from him it was entirely different.
Moving to the side of the sofa, she once again knelt on the floor, her arm going around his back to rub soothing circles that she knew would offer no real comfort.