Natasha Romanoff | The Black Widow (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
study_in_scarlet) wrote2013-02-09 11:17 am
study_in_scarlet) wrote2013-02-09 11:17 am
Tearing Down the Walls (for cawcawbirdbrain)
The first few nights were the worst; that initial moment of panic when she awoke alone before remembering where she was and that Clint was thousands of miles away, the emptiness she felt not just in the bed but in her heart when he wasn’t near. Eventually that faded but with each passing day Natasha grew more worried about how he was holding up. How was he coping with the nightmares without her to sooth them away? Was he working himself too hard as a distraction?
More than any of that, though, was that unshakeable expectation that her phone would one day ring and she would be called back with those three words that made her blood run cold and still haunted her dreams.
Barton’s been compromised.
She couldn’t shake the fear, but worse than that was the realisation that the phone call never would come, even if something did happen to him. With Coulson gone, who else would know to call her? Who else knew how important Clint was to her? Sure, many people had their suspicions, but none of them knew for certain because she had never allowed it. She had been so insistent that they keep their relationship secret, and with each passing day it became harder and harder to remember why. Over the years he had become a very important part of her life, the best thing in her life, so why was it so hard to give herself over so completely? What was she so afraid of?
His last words to her ran through her mind constantly, the clear desperation in his voice making it clear that it was something he had been holding back for a long time. He loved her, and he didn’t say it expecting to hear it back, nor did he say it in some last ditch effort to get her to stay, or to stall her for a few more minutes. He said it because he felt it, because he meant it, and because he needed her to know how he felt. There was no manipulation behind the words, only truth.
And she had said nothing in return.
She could argue all she wanted with herself that there hadn’t been time, that the doors had closed and cut off any reply, but ultimately it was a lie. She could have stopped the lift, she could have gone back up or even called him. She could have been a few minutes late getting to the base, but she had just walked away like she always did. Now she couldn’t stop thinking about it, couldn’t stop regretting it.
“...if something did happen and I didn’t say it I’d never forgive myself.” Those were the words that haunted her the most. She knew how he felt, now without question, but she kept her own feelings so guarded, kept them even from herself, that there was no way he could know. What if something happened to him while she was gone? Or to her? She had a lot of time to analyze her own feelings during this mission, but what if she never got to tell him? What if he never knew?
All these thoughts plagued her every waking hour so Natasha threw herself into the mission more than ever. She took more risks, pushed harder than normal. It was dangerous and she very well could have blown the entire mission, but it seemed that luck was on her side. The job was expected to take at least four months.
She finished in three and a half.
Every second felt like a full minute as she sat through her debriefing. Director Fury praised her speed even as he showed disapproval for her recklessness, but in the end it was a mission accomplished and a job well done.
Walking out of his office, Natasha made a beeline for the weapons range. She had asked Agent Hill about Barton’s status, her heart pounding in her chest, and had been beyond relieved to hear that he was currently on base, safe and sound. She could have called him the second the mission was over, but having finished so early she had hoped to surprise him. Of course it also played a factor that if she had called him and received no answer she wouldn’t have known how to handle that.
Stopping just outside the archery range, she took a deep breath. He wouldn’t be expecting her, and while she hadn’t done anything so drastic as shave her head or go blonde, she did look a little different. She hadn’t cut her hair since before their last conversation, and while it hadn’t grown that much in their time apart she had taken the time to straighten out the curls which gave the illusion of extra length. He would probably look just the same, she hoped he would, and after a moment’s pause she pushed the door open and walked in.
More than any of that, though, was that unshakeable expectation that her phone would one day ring and she would be called back with those three words that made her blood run cold and still haunted her dreams.
Barton’s been compromised.
She couldn’t shake the fear, but worse than that was the realisation that the phone call never would come, even if something did happen to him. With Coulson gone, who else would know to call her? Who else knew how important Clint was to her? Sure, many people had their suspicions, but none of them knew for certain because she had never allowed it. She had been so insistent that they keep their relationship secret, and with each passing day it became harder and harder to remember why. Over the years he had become a very important part of her life, the best thing in her life, so why was it so hard to give herself over so completely? What was she so afraid of?
His last words to her ran through her mind constantly, the clear desperation in his voice making it clear that it was something he had been holding back for a long time. He loved her, and he didn’t say it expecting to hear it back, nor did he say it in some last ditch effort to get her to stay, or to stall her for a few more minutes. He said it because he felt it, because he meant it, and because he needed her to know how he felt. There was no manipulation behind the words, only truth.
And she had said nothing in return.
She could argue all she wanted with herself that there hadn’t been time, that the doors had closed and cut off any reply, but ultimately it was a lie. She could have stopped the lift, she could have gone back up or even called him. She could have been a few minutes late getting to the base, but she had just walked away like she always did. Now she couldn’t stop thinking about it, couldn’t stop regretting it.
“...if something did happen and I didn’t say it I’d never forgive myself.” Those were the words that haunted her the most. She knew how he felt, now without question, but she kept her own feelings so guarded, kept them even from herself, that there was no way he could know. What if something happened to him while she was gone? Or to her? She had a lot of time to analyze her own feelings during this mission, but what if she never got to tell him? What if he never knew?
All these thoughts plagued her every waking hour so Natasha threw herself into the mission more than ever. She took more risks, pushed harder than normal. It was dangerous and she very well could have blown the entire mission, but it seemed that luck was on her side. The job was expected to take at least four months.
She finished in three and a half.
Every second felt like a full minute as she sat through her debriefing. Director Fury praised her speed even as he showed disapproval for her recklessness, but in the end it was a mission accomplished and a job well done.
Walking out of his office, Natasha made a beeline for the weapons range. She had asked Agent Hill about Barton’s status, her heart pounding in her chest, and had been beyond relieved to hear that he was currently on base, safe and sound. She could have called him the second the mission was over, but having finished so early she had hoped to surprise him. Of course it also played a factor that if she had called him and received no answer she wouldn’t have known how to handle that.
Stopping just outside the archery range, she took a deep breath. He wouldn’t be expecting her, and while she hadn’t done anything so drastic as shave her head or go blonde, she did look a little different. She hadn’t cut her hair since before their last conversation, and while it hadn’t grown that much in their time apart she had taken the time to straighten out the curls which gave the illusion of extra length. He would probably look just the same, she hoped he would, and after a moment’s pause she pushed the door open and walked in.