You sat on your couch, eyes glued to the news report on the TV. Your girlfriend’s face had been all over the news the past two weeks and you hadn’t heard a word from her. S.H.I.E.L.D. had fallen. All her files were online. She hadn’t returned any of your calls or texts. You weren’t sure if you were mad or worried. Probably both.
The doorbell.
And who was there but the redhead that had been the talk of the town lately?
‘NATASHA ROMANOFF WHAT IS GOING –’ You stopped yourself when you registered her black eye circles and slumping shoulders. ‘What…?’
She looked into your eyes but said nothing. You gestured her in.
‘Nat, what happened?’ you asked as she flopped down on the couch.
‘Did you read the files I released?’
You shook your head. ‘Not until you tell me I could.’
Her lips quivered. ‘Read it.’ She didn’t bother to hide her exhaustion.
So you grabbed your laptop and looked up her name.
‘I came here to break up with you,’ she informed you, voice emotionless. You could not see her face.
‘What?’
‘Just read it,’ she told you. ‘I’m leaving the country, by the way.’
You weren’t sure what to make of the whirlwind in your head. ‘Nat, you can’t just–’
She cut you off. ‘Read it.’
‘Are you okay?’
She finally looked up at you, emerald green eyes swimming. ‘Would you believe me if I said yes?’
Normally, you would’ve hugged her and kissed her hair. But you’d broken up with her half a minute ago. Instead, you returned your attention to your laptop.
You couldn’t keep your tears in as you read her files. You knew the Red Room was messed up. But seeing the training progress and mission reports – starting from when she was four – felt like being punched in the stomach repeatedly, then sliced open, then having your organs chopped up and removed one after another, all without anaesthetic. You didn’t care that she wasn’t your girlfriend anymore. You walked over and held her. You breathed her in and told her you loved her. You begged her not to leave. She deserved better. You knew you couldn’t protect her, but you wanted to look after her in any way you could. You felt her melt in your arms as you sobbed and mumbled incoherent confessions of love.
***
You woke up to Natasha screaming and kicking next to you. You shook her awake and dodged her fist.
When you had switched on the light and she had gained lucidity, she curled into herself and sobbed. You wrapped your arms around her and rested your chin on her shoulder. Your forehead leaned against the side of her head. She said nothing but you had a pretty good guess of what the nightmare was about.
You started to run your hand up and down her back, but she straightened and pushed herself off the bed, leaving you staring.
‘I’ll take the couch tonight. And I’ll leave before you get up,’ she informed you. It was not a discussion.
You didn’t know what to do, but when she opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of handcuffs, you stopped thinking entirely. You snatched the cuffs out of her hands and kissed her temple. ‘No,’ you told her, and tried to lead her back to your bed.
But she wouldn’t budge. She stood there, wordless, trembling, eyes fixed on the floor. Tears dripped onto her bare feet. Your heart broke for her. A million sharply edged shards cutting you from the inside. You felt a wave of nausea as you recalled the files you’d read in the afternoon.
You set the cuffs down on the table. ‘Natasha?’ you whispered.
When she didn’t respond, you simply brushed her cheek and lifted her chin. You studied her face. She didn’t, wouldn’t, couldn’t look at you. Your heart crumpled and shattered. You hadn’t realised it could break further. But what was love if not pain? You gave her a soft smile even if tears were rolling down your own cheeks. You kissed her temple and gently pulled her back to bed. This time, she followed. She collapsed into your arms and you cried together.
‘It’s getting bad again,’ she whispered, her voice a tiny needle making its way into and through the scattered pieces of your heart.
You nodded and brushed her hair off her face. So she turned and hid her face in you instead. You wished you could take away her pain, absorb it into yourself, give her even one second of relief. You couldn’t. You felt useless.
‘I’m sorry, sweetheart,’ you mumbled. ‘I’m sorry.’
She whimpered and you tightened your arms around her, wishing you could shield her from all the bloody demons snarling and reaching for her with their dark, dripping tentacles. She deserved better. It wasn’t fair.
‘How are you so kind, so brave?’ you asked her. How did she emerge from a sea of blood and pain and become a hero?
‘I’m not.’ You could barely hear her.
‘You are,’ you say into her hair. ‘You’re incredible.’
She only wept.
You hated it. You hated all of this. You hated everything that she had had to endure. But you were glad she was here with you. You were glad she allowed you to comfort her, even if you couldn’t do much, even if she kept talking about leaving. You were glad she trusted you, believed that you loved her, let you love her at all. You knew how hard that was for her. You were glad she was holding onto you, despite being fully aware of how pathetic it was to be happy with such small consolations. It was cold comfort but you didn’t care because you loved her.
‘I don’t want this,’ she mumbled. ‘I don’t want to use the cuffs, don’t want to leave.’ She sniffled. ‘But I’m so scared.’
You said nothing and let her continue. Your fingers ran through her hair.
‘I’m afraid I’d hurt you.’
Another needle through your heart.
‘Every time it gets bad I want the cuffs. I don’t want to want them. I don’t want to miss it back there. But it was home. Except it wasn’t. It…’ She gave up and returned to sobbing.
You held her impossibly tighter. You wished you could be useful to her. But you had no idea what to say. So you kissed her hair. She whimpered and trembled.
The sky began to brighten.
‘I hate it. Hate the cuffs. Hate my past. Hate myself.’
And it somehow shattered your heart again. You couldn’t understand how humans could hurt each other this badly. You were filled with rage. You wanted to find whoever hurt her and grant them a slow, painful death. Except, you knew you wouldn’t be able to find her tormentors, wouldn’t manage to end them. And you hated yourself for it. You knew you shouldn’t. But you did. How could you not hate yourself when you uselessly watched your girlfriend drown in pain? When she fought demons that you couldn’t see?
‘I should let you sleep,’ she whispered. ‘I’ll go outs–’
‘No,’ you told her. ‘Natasha, please. Let me take care of you.’
You felt her hesitate then snuggle closer, and you knew she wanted to be close to you, to be loved, to be cared for. You kissed the scars on her wrists. A silent ‘I love you no matter what’. But you felt obliged to clarify. It wasn’t a ‘despite your past’ but an ‘including your past.’
‘I love you,’ you said. ‘Your scars, your past, every part of you. Through your best and your worst. When you’re everyone’s hero and when you’re hurting in a dark corner.’
You felt her lips move against you. Her fingers curled into your collar. You were tired from all the crying. You knew she was too.
‘It hurts so much…’
You nodded. ‘It does.’
‘You’ll always stay with me?’
Another needle impaled you. ‘As long as you allow me to.’
There was a moment of quiet before she asked, ‘is this what you expected when you started dating the Black Widow?’
You considered it. It wasn’t. But you didn’t care. ‘No. Natasha Romanoff is so much more than the Black Widow.’
She peered at you.
‘She’s the kindest person on earth. She’s the sweetest girlfriend. She’s an idiot. She sets the kitchen on fire. She can’t live without peanut butter.’
She let out a teary, snotty, wet chuckle.
You continued to name all the silly things she’s done in the three years that you’d been together.
‘I love you,’ she whispered.
‘Love you too,’ you returned. ‘Tired?’
She nodded with a sniff.
The two of you shifted into a more comfortable position. Soon, she was asleep against you. You smiled and closed your eyes.
***
Every night, Natsha woke up screaming. Some nights, the nightmares wouldn’t stop and she’d attempt to sleep on the couch. You never let her. You held her, wishing against all hope that you could hold off her demons. You couldn’t. Some nights, she won the arguments and cuffed herself to the bed. Those mornings, you made sure to clean and kiss her fresh cuts. You made sure she knew that you loved her no matter what. Eventually, you would learn that she never wanted anything but for you to be by her side, that you did keep most of her demons away, that you were the only reason why she kept trying when she was so tired of the pain. And you told her how proud you were of her for facing the demons every day and every night.