Charades
It took her a week to feel like herself again. The static faded, the panic reduced to background noise. The guilt remained. At her stupid mistakes and the way that the cologne of a dead man could freeze her in her tracks. The constant humming in her mind, questioning if she was out of her depth here remained.
And it stuck to her. Every mission, every work out, every moment. It wasn't enough to drown it out. Wasting so much time on her thoughts only proved the redheads doubts. She wasn't enough, she couldn't cope with it. She was in over her head. A fraud. And at any moment now they would realise.
Bruce would wonder why he wasted so much time on conversations with her. Steve would never make such a mistake again, trying to lead someone to do greatness who had no potential left to give. Tony would realise she's not clever, she's not brave. Just a murderer with a pretty body. Thor wouldn't bat an eye. She was sure he already knew. Clint would have to give up on her, he'd finally see what she'd been trying to hide for so long.
An impostor. A murderer. A fraud. Over her head, out of her depth, drowning as she tried over and over again to prove herself. It was futile. She didn't understand why she kept trying. It was easier waiting for the other shoe to drop when she filled her hours. The dark circles under her eyes grew more pronounced, and the bottle of sleeping pills emptied faster than before. Dreykov always haunted her dreams but now his voice whispered to her in the daylight.
Solo missions became reckless. If she wasn't responsible for anyone else she didn't see the point in worrying. Greater falls and greater heights. Shaking off hits. Putting herself in more danger than she needed. Staring down the barrel of the gun helped shake the static. It felt like a breathe of fresh air. Free from the overwhelming thoughts without filling herself with numbing static. It made her feel more alive each time. She'd ride that high for the rest of the day, feeling every sensation in high definition.
Natasha was withdrawing into herself. Her usual appearances at breakfast or dinner ceased. She floated around the tower a ghost, avoiding everyone. It wouldn't hurt her as much when they realised this way. Sometimes she'd forget things. Forget that she existed. That she wasn't some vague concept, or apparition. Sometimes she'd forget where she was. Why she was there. None of it mattered anyway. Sometimes she'd find half empty bottles of wine. Another thing easy to forget. A part of her was terrified she'd forget she drank and take one too many sleeping pills. That part wasn't loud enough for her to put the glass down.
Her room had never been tidy or full of personal items but it became even more pronounced. She hadn't opened the curtains in a while. Maybe a week now. The crack in between them was enough to tell what time of day it was and it kept the piles of clothes and mess shrouded in shadows. Her pills were now kept buried in a drawer, or her bag. Seeing them out in the open made her stomach churn. Every surface was clear - excluding the floor and her bed. The items that used to scatter across her dresser now where firmly placed in her drawer. Or the bag hidden under her bed. Her bag for emergencies. It looked closer to a hotel room for a guest who didn't give a shit about hygiene than a bedroom someone lived in.
Every conversation felt like she was watching it happen from behind the glass. A creature in observation. The distance between herself and the team had felt impassable but what worried Natasha more was the distance between her and her when someone was watching. She shut down in conversations. Watching herself from afar as she talked and laughed. The woman she watched wasn't her. A fucking charade. It's all she was. All she is. All she will be.
"Natasha? We're gonna watch the next Batman movie, you wanna join us?" Tony leaned in the doorway to her bedroom as he spoke.
The redhead didn't glance his way let alone turn to face him. Her eyes stayed focused on the book in her hands. It wasn't anything interesting. In fact she wouldn't have been able to explain the plot if her life relied on it. But sitting alone in her room staring at walls didn't look good, it prompted concerned questions. Questions she couldn't care to answer.
"Mm? I'm alright, thank you. It's finally getting good." She replied. Eventually.
"Ahh okay, okay. You sure? I'm pretty sure Clint will share his popcorn with you."
She laughed, a hollow sound that rattled in her ribcage. "Don't lie to me, I've never gotten him to share."
She could feel the grin on Tony's face. "Worth a shot. We'll be in the lounge okay? You can join anytime."
Her nod didn't seem to placate him if the way he hung at the door still was any indication. "I will, I promise. Go, watch your movie Stark." She tried keep her voice light, whether she succeeded or not she couldn't tell. Whether she succeeded or not she couldn't particularly care at this point but it was enough for him to say his goodbyes.
Someone was waiting in the hallway for Tony. They spoke quietly. Enough she couldn't make out the words, and quietly enough she knew it was intentional. They didn't want her hearing what they were saying. Natasha didn't need to hear it. She knew what they were saying.
In over her head. Out of her depth. A murderer, pretending to be a hero.