“Do you know what animal that is?” Maria asks the three year old sitting in her lap while she points towards the depicted dog on the first page of a children’s book.
It’s a sight not many would expect upon thinking of one of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s highest ranking agents. And yet Maria has found herself spending her evenings reading to the small child.
“Hund!” The girl says confidentially, missing the aspect where Maria requested the animal’s name in English and she just replied in German. Maria sighs quietly. One would think after reading the same book about twenty times – only counting this week (and it’s Wednesday) – even a child would get the cue of what language the brunette was requesting. But she couldn’t blame the small girl – after all she was speaking at least three languages Maria knew of. Which is quite unusual for a three year old, but came with the place S.H.I.E.L.D. agents managed to rescue her from only a few months ago.
So she rephrases her question: “What do you call this animal in English?” the girl is quiet for a moment, occupied with deciphering the new task given by the woman sitting behind her. She has gotten used to the presence of the brunette in the past few months and yet her former life has taught her to not trust a possible false sense of comfort. And still, the woman sat behind her – and the redhead who should be home any minute now – has never once done anything to Olivia to betray her building trust.
So she is not afraid of the repercussions when she hesitantly replies: “соба́ка?”. Maria smiles defeatedly at the reply and wonders about how confusing it must be to not understand the concept of multilingualism and yet speak three different languages. And still, her wife and she have been trying their hardest to teach it to the new attribute to their small family: “Well, that’s not wrong sweetheart. But the first word was German and the second Russian. Those are different languages than what I’m speaking in right now. I’m talking to you in English. Do you know one more word for that animal that sounds a bit like what I’m talking in?”
Before the girl could answer, the doorbell rings, forcing Maria to part from their cosy little reading session and answer the door.
When she opens it, she’s faced with two familiar, yet not expected faces.
“How bad is it?” The commander asks the two men stood in front of her.
Clearly surprised by that question thrown their way, the agents find themselves with a lack of words to describe the nature of their visit. They clearly didn’t expect to be confronted by the woman – they rather thought they would catch her off guard, addressing her in her off hours this unexpectedly. Still at a lack of words the taller one of them replies slightly sarcastically: “Commander Hill. Didn’t think you’d expect us.” Internally, Maria rolls her eyes at the tone the agent used. Never having liked this duplicitous man in front of her, she didn’t exactly expect him to put on a nice face for her – she was sure the disdain was mutual.
“Well, since my wife decided to throw herself off of buildings for a living, I’ve kind of gotten used to those late night visits.” Maria replies with a false smile aimed at the man. “Well, you don’t seem too concerned about our visit considering the kind of news you’re anticipating.” The agent states bluntly.
“Well,” Maria says, while making sure to keep the door shut at an angle at which the men wouldn’t see her daughter playing with her stuffed animal on the living room couch, “I know that if Romanoff was dead, Fury would be standing here and not some wanna be level 10 agents.” Maria smiles at the men once again, begging internally for the conversation to be over already.
“Well, Natasha Romanoff was injured on a mission and will spend the night in the medical wing. She should get cleared tomorrow morning, but Fury asked us to inform you personally anyway.” The smaller of the men replied, gaining Maria’s attention. “Why?” she asks, still confused about the visit of the men. Usually she’d get a call from a very much bruised up Natasha, who insisted that she was fine and was clearly forced by either Barton or Fury to have that conversation about her injuries with her wife.
“Well, we don’t know what exactly happened on the mission, but something seems to have triggered her to the extend where she insisted on you and your daughter to be brought in for safety reasons.” The smaller man states, visibly uncomfortable about addressing the little child. Not many people knew of Olivia, given the nature of her past and the rank of her new parents. Therefore, if the agents got briefed on her, Fury must consider them at least somewhat trustworthy – even though Maria would disagree considering at least one of the men.
Maria sighs and signs for the men to come in while she packs up some emergency bags for herself and Olivia. While she didn’t exactly hurry – if there were an imminent danger to her and her daughter’s life, Fury would be standing here himself – she made sure to keep the insight the men got into her living room as short as possible.
After a few minutes, she handed the men two bags and lifted the three year old off the couch. The situation must be confusing enough for her as it is, Maria could only hope for the car journey to rock the girl into a quick nap.
Luckily, her knowledge of the building plan of S.H.I.EL.D.’s headquarter allowed Maria to sneak into the medical wing – unseen by any agents – and right down the hall to the room Natasha was stationed in.
As anticipated, the small child has fallen asleep in the brunette’s arms during the car journey and hasn’t woken yet – which would make the following conversation a lot easier.
When Maria walks through the doors of the medical station, the lights are dimmed and only one bed is occupied by a limp figure with red hair. Maria sighs, as she gently places the girl in her arms on a nearby bed – just out of reach to be woken by the following conversation – and makes her way over to her wife.
“What did you do this time? Jump off of a building? Start a fight with a guard?” Maria jokes, trying to hide the concerned look that’s creeping onto her face upon inspecting the bruised state Natasha is in.
Natasha manages a small smile, wincing in pain by the motion the huffed laugh forced her ribs to go through. Maria sits down next to the bed, carefully removing a strand of red hair that’s stuck to some of the dried blood on Natasha’s forehead. Gently leaning down to her wife’s face, she places a small kiss on her cheek, at which Natasha relaxes into the touch.
“I was worried when you didn’t get home in time for dinner, you know.” Maria whispers slowly as she plays with red strands of hair, which for once were not tied up into a braid. She watches Natasha’s lips curve into an apologetic smile, but none of the women said anything for a while. They both knew exactly what they signed up for as S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. And yet, as they start building a family, this job will be harder to perform than ever.
Natasha nods towards the bed to their right, silently asking Maria how their daughter is doing. “She’s fine. Don’t worry about her.” Maria replies quietly before silently getting up from her chair in order to move it out of the way so she could move her daughter’s bed next to Nat’s. If they were gonna spend the night in the uncomfortable ambience of the medical room, they might as well make it a bit cozier for themselves.
After having moved the beds closer together, Maria lays down next to Natasha and places her left hand onto the redhead’s cheek. Now as she draws small circles on the side of Natasha’s face, Maria watches the meds – she was sure Natasha refused profusely, but Fury smuggled into her IV anyway – kick in and her wife slowly drift into a peaceful sleep.