Attachments
December 25, 2012
Natasha hadn't ever had a family at Christmas, not really. She had spent all of her last few Christmases with Clint, watching their favorite movies and passing cartons of Chinese food back and forth between them. For the last few months she had expected the same, except this year they would be The Bartons. Maybe some of the guys would join them. That could be fun, but not really a family thing. When it was decided a few weeks ago to have a big family-style Christmas dinner, Natasha had been so excited she'd practically been vibrating. She bought a tree and lights, ornaments, decorations, and stockings for her and Clint. The others admired their stockings so much on the mantle that she bought them stockings, too. They were a team, right?
Natasha was really trying to get into the spirit of things, to be Christmassy and domestic and still the Black Widow. It was a balance she was finding difficult, but Natasha thought she was managing okay. She was still top dog at S.H.I.E.L.D., without question. She was still top of all the aptitude and skill tests, still won almost every spar and was still the best interrogator. She had managed to make friends, something she had never been able to do for several reasons. But now she had, and they made her feel happy. She had acquired a beautiful home that she loved taking care of and decorating, surprising herself, and had a wonderful, happy marriage - even if they had to keep it a secret. Life was amazingly good for Natasha Romanov Barton.
Then it all went to hell. It had all just gone straight to hell in one moment. She still had the home, but she didn't give a shit. She washed her clothes, her dishes and herself. Fuck the rest. Her gift for Clint sat under the tree, waiting for a Christmas morning that meant nothing now. His gift to her was going to go into a closet, wrapped. If it started to smell, she'd throw it away. She just hoped it wasn't currently alive. She didn't turn on the Christmas lights after he left, she didn't see the point. He had made the holiday worth celebrating, and now he was gone.
She had the job, but she resented it so much that it made her physically ill to even think about the place sometimes. The place had been her salvation and ruination. She wanted to burn it to the ground and spit on Fury - the man to whom she was forever grateful that she was alive. She couldn't comprehend how she felt. Too many differing emotions...she had to make them stop.
The friends were there, and she tried to care, but she didn't. She didn't even want to look at Steve. He was hurt and confused until Bruce took him aside and explained. Then he tried to apologize and offered to find Clint and explain. Natasha still wouldn't speak to him, and Bruce just took him by the shoulders and led him away.
Pepper came over with wine and was some comfort - she was female and had had a broken heart before, so she could relate on that level. Natasha hadn't confided in a female on a friendship level since Anya, so she was hesitant, but she figured if any woman in the world was safe from someone evil harming her the girlfriend of Iron Man would be, so she told Pepper the whole story. All of it. She and Clint getting married in Vegas, their marriage being phony, teaching Steve to dance, everything. And for the first time in her memory, she took comfort from someone other than Clint. When Pepper hugged her, she didn't recoil. She didn't let it last long, but she accepted it for what it was - sympathy from a friend.
It was too much. All of it. Entirely too much. The Red Room had been right; having emotional attachments made you weak. She was a fool to think that she could love someone and still be strong. She had let down her guard, and she couldn't let that happen again. She had to retrain herself to not love. To not feel. She had to, somehow. She could do it. Natasha Bart- (dammit. Got to stop thinking of yourself like that, Tasha) Natasha Romanov could do anything.
Christmas morning came, and Natasha did what she always did on Christmas. She sat on her couch and put on Raising Arizona. It was her and Clint's favorite movie, they quoted it to each other all the time. She felt sure that in the history of the world, no one else had ever sat on a couch on Christmas Day in a ragged Iowa t-shirt eating Chinese takeout and burst into sobs when the prisoner said, "well, sometimes I get the menstrual cramps real hard.” But she did burst into tears, because that line always made Clint laugh, and she missed the sound of his laugh. She had to turn it off before his other favorite line ("naw, not unless round is funny“) because she was genuinely afraid that if she heard it, she would break down entirely and Jarvis may call for help, thinking she'd lost her mind. Why did she willingly sit down and watch their movies anyway? Eating their favorite food, wearing his shirt? Why'd she surround herself with him?
Because she missed him so much. So, so much. She didn't care how much it hurt, she loved him and wanted him. She'd take the pain if it came with him.
She cried some more.
Great job stifling those emotions there, champ. Keep up the great work.
"Ms. Romanov, Ms. Potts would like to remind you that dinner is in one hour in the communal dining area."
"Tell Pepper I'm not coming."
"Ms. Potts anticipated your answer, and asked me to inform you that if you don't come to Christmas dinner in one hour, she will have Mr. Stark put on the Mark IX and come drag you there. She also says to inform you that Christmas spirit is not required."
Natasha sighed. "Tell Pepper that I'm getting in the shower, and I loathe her a little right now."
"Yes ma'am, but I assure you, she won't care."
~*~
Natasha tried hard to be jovial and holly-jolly, but she wasn't fooling anyone. She had called on her training to be unemotional while pretending to care, but there was a problem with this - the same problem she faced and that broke her when Clint saved her and brought her to S.H.I.E.L.D. It was a very simple thing to turn your emotions off to people who would cut you in a heartbeat. It was much, much more difficult to turn them off to people who cared about you, genuinely cared. It's how Clint broke through her walls seven years before - he gave a damn. And, dammit, these people gave a damn about her, too. Her pretense was failing miserably.
They all knew she and Clint were an item, had had a fight over Steve, and then Clint left for a mission indefinitely. Steve was agonizing, thinking he was to blame, but he had been staying away on Bruce's advice. Pepper greeted her at the door and gave her a quick, genuine hug then went scurrying off to check something about dinner. Natasha came inside and nodded to the guys, grabbing a glass of wine and heading over there with them.
"Hey, fellas."
Three greetings, one very subdued.
"Steve, this isn't your fault."
"Feels like it."
"No, there were other mitigating circumstances. Had it just been the dance lesson, he'd have huffed for ten minutes or so and been fine. We're pretty solid." Or we were. She willed herself not to tear up. "You just got caught in a bad crossfire, and I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry it happened at all, Nat. I hate seeing you sad."
She smiled and Bruce side-hugged her. "We're going to feed her and get some Christmas spirit in her. Maybe some wine."
"Make it vodka.”
~*~
Natasha had never had a better meal in her life. Everything was delicious, and she had never had most of the foods presented. She still wasn't familiar with a lot of traditional American foods, even after being here for seven years, so things like ‘corn pudding’, ‘candied yams’ and ‘string bean casserole’ were a novelty to her. But oh, they were so delicious.
She had actually had some fun tonight. She had laughed with her friends, popped crackers that gave her a silly paper crown and toy, and even joked a little at Tony's expense. But it was late, and time to go home.
The elevator opened on her floor and she walked to the door, Jarvis opening it for her. She walked in and realized all at once just how big and empty her home was. It was huge. It never seemed that big when Clint was there, or empty at all. It was like he and the love they had shared filled the rooms, but now that was gone and she was overwhelmed by the emptiness. There was no one there but her. She didn't want anyone there but Clint. Her kind-of husband. The husband she wanted but could never have, who would never have her. The husband who said he didn't know how he felt, but he loved her.
She sank to her knees on the cold tile of her dark, empty kitchen, sobbing. She had had everything. Everything. This poor Russian girl had had the American dream...and a legality had taken all of it away.
She lay on the floor a long time. She had stopped believing in God after the Red Room had been beating her and teaching her the best way to kill people for a year. She didn't see how could God could let a child go through that, so she stopped believing. But that Christmas night, lying on that hard floor, she prayed. She had always heard that God would give you everything you need, and all she needed was Clint. So she prayed for Clint.
~*~
Mid-March 2013
Clint reached across the sleeping woman to the cigarettes on the bedside table, trying desperately not to wake her up. He hated smoking. It was a terrible habit and he felt awful when he did it, but everyone in this ring smoked - hell, there weren't many clean-living drug dealers - so Clint picked it up. He'd have to buy some patches when he got home.
Home. God, he couldn't wait to get home. He missed everything about it, but he missed Natasha so much he physically ached. He was deep cover, he couldn't make contact with anyone, and it was killing him. He had thought a thousand times about faking a grandmother dying so he could fly back to New York and just look at her. She could hate his guts, and he would deserve it, but he just wanted to see her face. Those green eyes and the way they twinkled a little when she was laughing at one of his bad jokes. That smile she saved just for him. What he wouldn't give to run his fingers down the curve of her neck, feeling the pulse of the heart he loved so much, grazing his knuckles across her shoulders, and down her body, feeling how her skin felt like satin over a pillow.
He shook his head. He had to stop. She more than likely hated him, and with good reason. And if she didn't before, she would now.
"Hey, baby."
Fuck. He had hoped she would stay asleep and leave him the fuck alone.
She was the drug czar's daughter, and she'd been his way in. He'd gotten almost everything he needed, but he'd had to sleep with this 22-year-old cokehead to get it. He felt dirty, low, like a piece of shit. Like a man who had cheated on his wife. In his 20's or early 30's he'd have seen this as a perk to his job. She'd have been just a piece of ass. Now - Christ. He wanted his Natasha, not this little trick. Touching her made him squirm, he struggled to get it up. It had taken a great deal of creative fantasizing on his part while fucking this girl to be able to finish. He’d finally taken to faking orgasms and disposing of empty condoms quickly just to get it over with. He wanted nothing to do with her, she couldn't get enough of him. He hated himself. He loathed himself. He didn't like to look in the mirror.
Clint shook himself mentally and reminded himself that he was playing a part. That this was for the good of millions of people and he could do it.
"'Mornin' doll. Sorry I woke you up." The endearment was forced, she was far from a doll. It was the best he could do. He refused to call her 'sweetheart'. He had one sweetheart, and she by-god wasn't it.
"Oh, it's okay. You can make it up to me."
She reached around to grab his cock and stuck her tongue in his ear. He shuddered before he could repress it and hoped she mistook it as a pleasure thing. He swallowed the bile in his throat and said, "Sounds good, doll."
~*~
Natasha was in the main gym working out on the heavy bags with Steve when Tony came in. "Hey, Nat, you got a sec?"
"Sure." She had a small alarm bell going off in her head. He had both hands in his pockets with his arms straight, and was turning his entire body to look around the room. Occasionally he'd reach up to touch his mouth with one hand, but then his fists went back into his pockets. These were not "jovial Tony" signs.
"So, I just got a call from Director Fury."
"Yeah?"
"They've got Hawkeye."
Natasha felt weak. "Where is he?"
"He's in transport. They're bringing him here. He, uh..."
"Tell me, Tony!"
"The drug gang he infiltrated was raided by another gang, and Clint got shot. It's not life-threatening, but he's in rough shape."
Natasha felt like falling into a ball on the ground, but held on. She clutched her throat, but didn't allow herself any further panic.
"What are you not telling me?"
Tony looked away. ”I’m not holding…”
"Bullshit, Tony. I'm the best interrogator S.H.I.E.L.D. has for a reason. You're hiding something. Spit it out. Now.”
Tony hung his head, then sighed and looked at her. "He was brought to the ER by someone claiming to be his girlfriend."
~*~
Natasha sat by Clint's bed, holding his hand and waiting for him to wake up. The doctors said that they'd sedated him for transport but he should regain consciousness soon. She wanted to be the first face he saw.
Oh, Clint. Her husb- her Clint. She loved him so much. It was torment watching him lie in the bed, bandaged and sedated. She bent to kiss his hand.
A girlfriend? That had to be a mistake. Or a misunderstanding. Or a cover. She just couldn't make sense of Clint having a girlfriend on an op. There had to be a perfectly good explanation for this. And if there was a real girlfriend, the bitch was dead. But she was going to let Clint tell her about it first. He wouldn't lie to her. She’d know.
She bent and kissed his fingers again and put her forehead on the back of his hand, crying quietly. She felt weak, small. She didn’t care. He was home, and was going to be okay. If he didn’t want her, she would survive. He was going to survive, that was the important thing here. She stroked his hand with her fingers as tears dropped onto his skin and wondered why they kept fucking up at love.
"Tasha? That you, sweetheart?"
She looked up. He was looking at her, his blue eyes bleary, tired, a bit confused, but surprised and happy.
He beamed. "It's you."
She kissed his hand again. "Of course it's me."
"You're wearing my necklace."
She was a little surprised. That was the first thing he was worried about? "Well, yes. I've never taken it off."
He looked at her as if trying to make sense of what she'd just said, then, "I love you so much, Nat. So goddamn much."
"Shhhh. I love you too. Shhhhh.” Her heart fluttered and she was glad she was sitting down. She stroked his hand.
"Where am I?"
"You're home, baby. You got shot, and they brought you home."
"What's wrong with me?"
"Perforated bowel. They operated in Dallas, got you stabilized, and S.H.I.E.L.D. flew you straight here."
"My target?"
"Dead. A rival gang raided and killed almost everyone." She paused. "Your girlfriend brought you in."
"She's not my girlfriend, she was my ticket to the target. I hated her. I hate myself. I'm so sorry, Tasha, sweetheart, I love you, I didn't want to touch her. She made me sick, please believe me..."
"Shhhh....hush, baby, or they'll make me leave."
"Do you forgive me?"
She agonized for a moment. The thought of him holding, kissing, making love to someone else was more than she could bear. Then she looked in his eyes, those completely readable eyes, and knew. He looked miserable, and she remembered that he had believed that she was sleeping with targets for years on ops, and said nothing. She had been automatically forgiven, while he suffered with that knowledge in silence. Loki had taunted him with it, nearly drove him mad with it. She couldn't let him suffer like this while she held it over his head.
She smiled and kissed his hand. ”There's nothing to forgive."
"Will you stay with me?"
"I'm not leaving you, Clint. I love you."
"Good. Stay with me, Nat, always. I need you. Be with me forever. God, I love you Nat."
She stood up and kissed him lightly on the lips, one tear falling on his cheek. She wiped it away with her thumb, saying, "I love you, too, Clint, and I'm not going anywhere. Now sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."