“Hold me close and hold me fast
The magic spell you cast...”
.
The tremors of the past had always had its hold onto the victims shackled by the guilt, the pain, and the remorse. A permanent scar that reminded them of what they’d gone through, scars that always smart in the middle of the night to throw them off tranquillity, to whisper such crude things in their ear. They were soldiers of the never ending war; man and woman who share different pasts, but bear the same amount of scars that welted upon their skin, intending to announce that they weren’t pure, that they were marred by their actions. A beast that could never truly leave them alone despite the company they’d sought from each other.
This night wasn’t much different as the monster clawed upon their chests, leaving some of them wide awake and staring aghast onto the expanse of the white ceiling. The anachronic man stayed still, sapphirine eyes ever so wide as he tried to calm himself down by listening to her steady breathing, by reminding himself that it was Bucky’s choice to stay hidden, to lurk as a phantasm, never willing to be found. It tried to calm him down by convincing him that he wasn’t at fault, that he tried his best to haul the man back to safety. But, another part of him that festered on guilt had reminded him of his incompetence, reminded him that he wasn’t much of a hero that everyone had deduced him to be. It seared his heart, wringing it like a mop, opening old wounds and dumping salt, never to heal again.
He delved into the abyss once more, quite reluctantly, but was pushed aside by a voice so clear and so broken.
Natasha.
She dreamt of blood, of crimson staining both her hands, dripping, and dripping, and dripping onto the endless stream beneath her. In the distance, a melody played, a melody she knew quite well, a melody she had grown up to. And then it snowed. Pure white crystals falling onto the lake, caking the red, but never successfully. A metaphor for what she was---what she was trying to be. Emerald hues ghosted with the pain and the guilt, she stared far ahead into the unknown. Still, but troubled.
However, that wasn’t what it seemed on the outside. The other shifted into a sitting position upon hearing her broken sobs, upon noticing that the storm was brewing, and it wasn’t intending to leave her alone.
Large hands were placed upon her shoulders, stilling her shaking form before enveloping her into his warmth.
“I’m here...” He murmured into her ear, his tone calm despite the ugly little head that reared upon their slumber.
.
“This is la vie en rose.”
.
And then she was calm.
“When you kiss me heaven sighs
And though I close my eyes...”
.
It was a simple mission; retrieve the redacted files from HYDRA, fall back, and let extraction take over. It should have been as easy as that. The Black Widow was known to take missions more complicated than this, missions that had required her to bend and break whatever it was that needed to be bent and broken. This should have been abecedarian.
But, it was not.
HYDRA had the upper hand, easily compromising her, bending and breaking her and stealing the accomplishment away from her. The file had been lost into the explosion, a bullet planted deep within her shoulder sealing the deal. It was such a simple task and, yet she had failed.
A slur of Slavic profanities escaped from her mouth as she carded her fingers through her russet curls, indignation putting her into the edge. She’d been at the receiving edge of Fury’s bark, the disappointment he had aired---though he was beyond stoic---biting her as if she didn’t know enough how much she messed up. With the cloud of anger hanging above her head, she pulled out a pin from her pocket, meaning to pick Steve’s lock. Though he had offered her a copy of the key multiple times, she still preferred to break into his home (she still didn’t want to put a label on their relationship despite the fact that they’d stopped fucking and started making love six months ago). She was about to insert the pin onto the keyhole when the door opened, revealing a weary Steve glancing down at her.
“Are you okay?” He asked as she lifted her sullied face to meet his sapphirine hues.
There was a glint of concern and worry in them, one she wished she could erase away. She knew answering his question directly would alleviate these, but this she chose not to do, unwilling to show him how vulnerable she was at the moment despite the fact that it was quite obvious. She moved past him, kicking off her boots and stowing them away onto the corner next to his, him in tow as she dared not to open up. She stalked towards his bathroom, simultaneously zipping off her cat suit in the process, leaving gelidity in her trail.
He respected her, of course and so he let her shut him down, let her bask into her walls. Steve knew she’d talk when she wanted to, that he didn’t have to force it, and so he sat by the foot of his bed and waited for her silently, patiently.
“Steve, could you give me a hand here?”
He stood from where he was sitting and walked towards the bathroom, opening the door, revealing the redhead with a towel around to keep her decency. He swiped a wet curl from her forehead, blue eyes searching her face for any emotion. When she connected her teal blue orbs with his, he knew. Leaning in, he pressed a loving kiss onto her forehead, lips lingering there for a moment as he held her close to him.
.
“I see la vie en rose.”
.
“I’m okay now.”
“When you press me to your heart
I’m in a world apart...”
.
“Rogers, do you copy?”
Her breathing was ragged, face marred with dust and mud, crimson hair wildly spilling over her shoulders, obscuring her vision. Fire crackled behind her, serving as some kind of twisted background music. Ashes fell as chaos ensued; mission accomplished, but they were losing one man.
Her inquiry was met with silence, crisp and brutal, a dagger towards her heart. Not long ago there was static, there was something she could hold onto, but now there was none and she was trying to swallow the fear that was gnawing at her nerves.
“Rogers?” She tried once more, voice steady, calmer than she had expected. Though she was breaking, she tried to be strong; the people behind her were depending on the Black Widow.
A gentle hand was placed on her shoulder and she jumped, the touch unwarranted.
“Steve?” She whispered as she whipped around, hopeful. But, her hope hadn’t lasted when she became face to face with Clint.
He was worn down just as she was, but she couldn’t bring herself to care as her mind solely belonged to the worry she had for the super soldier.
“He’s alright. Steve’s in medical for first aid.” The archer stated gently, lifting his hand from her.
Disbelief crossed her features for a moment before it completely flitted to that of relief. Sprinting, she left the other Avenger alone, heart leaping as she approached Steve in haste. When she’d caught sight of him, she swore she’d felt a swell in her heart. Despite his hand in a cast, she threw herself to him, lithe arms wrapping around him as she pressed the side of her head onto his chest.
.
“A world where roses bloom.”
.
“Don’t do that again.” She stated, lightly punching him on his good arm when she had pulled away.
“Ow. Didn’t they ever tell you not to hit an injured man?” He responded, a boyish grin marring his face through the ashes. When he received a glare, he only grinned wider. “Yes, ma’am.”
“And when you speak,
Angels sing from above.
Everyday words seems
To turn into love songs.”
.
“Natasha, I know what we mean to you. I do,” Steve said from across the room, blue eyes flitting over to hers. “You mean the same to me.”
She let a smile tease her lips at that.
“But I’m sorry. I’m out.”
And that’s when her whole world came crumbling down.
“Give your heart and soul to me.”
.
When the others had left, had said their goodbyes, she remained, standing still, tears streaking. A single red rose was clutched in her hands as she gazed onto the abyss he now belonged. With a thousand of regrets, she reluctantly dropped the rose, having it land on the flag donned coffin.
“Proshchay moya lyubov'.”
She blew one last kiss to the man she loved and will always love before walking away.
.
“And life will always be la vie en rose.”