Stark can never be right, ballet flashbacks
‘So, I was right?’
‘No Stark, you were not right you just weren’t wrong… Nat and I’s connection isn’t just telepathy, we can see through each other’s eyes, get a sense of location and talk to each other-so yes I suppose telepathy but also we can see things from each other’s past, so I could tell you what you saw when you looked at your phone last, or a memory from when you were 3’ I counter having learnt to never, ever tell Stark he was right-you would regret it.
Nat and I were in the sitting room, having managed to somehow wrangle (via food bribe) all the team, Fury and Maria into paying attention. Having spent the last week practicing we were sure our connection could work and was reliable over a little distance-so far the longest we’d tried was me describing a worker on the ground floor and talking a photo for evidence to Nat in her room on the 100th floor and it had worked perfectly. From then we’d gone onto standing in front of the collage wall (something we’d started after London, sticking all the best newspaper articles about us to the walls in an art deco vibe) and staring hard at the reports, the other could get a clear photo in their minds eye and guess the right one.
‘so, you guys can read each other’s-and our-minds’ Bruce looks worries
‘Yes, but no’ Nat explains, ‘Only Iris can read minds, look into people’s head and talk to them. I’m the only person she can see through or locate, however others can think about the description their surroundings, I can just show pictures’’ Nat explains
‘Peter, can I try on you’ I ask gently. His eyes widen
‘Yes, well, no, I mean maybe…’ he trails off awkwardly
‘Don’t worry’ I laugh ‘All ill see is, say, what you are thinking right now at the moment I go in, so if you think about 3 clear random things I think I could name them’
Again his eyes widen ‘O.. k…ay..’ he stammers. Everyone looks hesitant
I take a deep breath and drop into soul.
So many heart beats,
I reach out slowly connecting to Peters’ brain
‘Hey Spidey’ I can feel him jolt ‘Its okay it only me, I’m going to take a dig around, if you want me to stop just think no and ill drop out, okay?’ I question lightly, feeling is heartrate rise
‘yes, that fine’ he replies, I smile and slowly let myself become engulfed in his thoughts
‘Hey Pete, think some random things and I’ll read them’
Saucers flash into my view-tea cups and saucers ‘I drink tea darling’ flashes through but im worried now-his pulse is still high and climbing
‘Peter you’re doing into sensory over load, so just breathe deeply, I’m dropping out’ I say and leave his thoughts
‘I drink tea darling’ I state, the living room coming back into focus. Peter stares
‘You…you… read that’ he gasps, the others look confused
‘Yep’ I state-happy it had worked ‘I could read everyone’s thoughts in 10 seconds, if I weren’t gentle or asked permission’ I laugh at their shocked faces
‘Relax I don’t want to know what going on in Tony’s head’ rolling my eyes I turn to Val
‘Can I try reading your thoughts-as an animal?’ I waggle my eyebrows
‘Fine’ she fakes annoyance ‘come here Elskan’ I snuggle on the sofa beside her and we spend the next hour eating pizza, me reading minds, Peter and Shuri planning a Prank (yes I did mind-crash their prank planning telepathically and lets just say Clint will not be happy with the amount of pink glitter we are using)
As the sunsets around us and the lights of the city turn on through the glass panelled wall I look around at my new family. Carol and Fury laughing about Cats and Flerkens, Clint, Thor and Bruce talking about Jane and stars or something, Tony and Pepper discussing colleges with Peter and Maria and Nat curled up together mirroring Val and I.
I think back to what Natasha said and we do, we do have a crazy, magic, powerful, loving gang of people I would die for, and they are Earths Mightiest Heroes.
I smile to myself as I open my connection with Nat. She locks eyes with me across the room and nods, I let myself in
Nat: Hey мой ребенок’
Me: Hey
Nat: Whatcha here for
Me: just happy
Nat: good, I am too
Me: Thank you supermum
Nat: For what?
Me: For everything
***
That night when the nightmares return to Natasha, she know what to do. Making a small stop at the kitchen she sneaks down to the training room; to the section with a barre and mirror and lets the pain engulf her like music.
Tchaikovsky rings in her ear. A simple three four count high piano and a smattering of violin. Her feet ache with sores underneath the satin shoes, her legs and arms stinging with each turn and leap. But she revels in the pain.
If Natasha ever had something constant in her life, something that stayed regardless of the love or trouble that slammed her in the face it would be dance.
Natasha loved it. The beauty, the pain. Where suffering met art and love erupted in the blood shed when she fell over that edge. She's used to the pain by now, she has the Red Room to thank for that. She was taught to rely on no-one. Only herself. herself and her strength.
So, when she finally found family, a job, a team, that warmth and dare she say acceptance felt undeserved. Foreign.
Nat catches sight of herself in the mirror and tales another gulp of the alcohol before throwing the flask to the ground. She pulls the headphones on and allows the music to swallow her thoughts, letting her eyelids flicker shut. Her limbs move like liquid silver, her body following each movement with a perfect fluidity
'Again'
Madame shouts from her place by the fire place.
One of the twenty-eight girls left-
The memory comes in a flash, Nat shuts her eyes as the world spins around her
'Again'
She holds the knife to the girl in the girl sleeping next to her, the blade held strongly against her throat. The 10-year-old girl forces her friend to take her last breath. A guttural scream fills the air as she snaps her hand backwards.
Suddenly it all becomes to much, memories engulf her, pulling her back into her past. The thing she hates so much about herself.
‘Again’ Madame yelling as she suffocates a grown man
‘Again’ The surgeon calling her into surgery
‘Again’ The handcuffs snap into place and the pain returns
‘again, again, again, ag-
smash
Her fist smashes into the mirror. When her hand comes away from the glass, it’s slick with blood as broken shards cut into her skin. She pulls a piece of glass out from between her knuckles and watches the redness flow down her wrist.
The sound of her heart hammering behind her ribcage fills her ears until the thumping is so loud it hurts. She’s suddenly aware of the way she struggles for every breath, gasping for air. Everything blurs, and before she can catch herself, she’s falling to the floor. Natasha barely registers the shadow at the door before her vision goes black. Memories racing under her eyelids suffocating her, engulfing her in the nightmare of being a weapon
Trust no one.
You have no friends.
You need no friends.
Friends make you weak.
Friends make you stupid
Friends will get you killed.
There is only you, you and your strength.
You have no place in this world.
Black Widow. Natalia Alianova Romanova. Natasha Romanoff. Natalie Rushman. Nicole Right. Naomi Roberts. So many fractured pieces, but all holding one truth above everything—you have no place in this world.
***
I hear Natasha get out of bed and sneak down from the kitchen to the training room, I cant sleep either, maybe she’ll like the company I think slipping down the stairs like a shadow.
As I reach the door it is clear she wouldn’t. She is dancing, dancing with a beauty a fluidity and love that I have only ever seen in her laugh, when her eyes light up with happiness. As I watch she reaches down taking a swig from a bottle and then climbing back onto pointe, a small smear of blood stains the floor were she rested her foot.
Then she if off again, twisting, turning spinning to the invisible music inside her head. Suddenly she falters, eyes clouded with worry as she catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror. And I see a tear run down the ide of her face, firsts clenched at her side pushing through into a jete a leap then stopping poised, entire weight on the toes of a single foot, her index finger twitches and she falls again, dropping off pointe to demi, wrapping her arms around herself as if fighting it fighting whatever demons are haunting her love. Then a flick of the wrist, she whimpers, tears running freely down her face unnoticed as she takes another swig, loosing herself in art until
Crack
Even I didn’t see it coming, her shoulder flies back in a milisecond, fist connecting to shatter the strong mirror showing her her faults, her disappointments.
The cracks remains are smeared with the blood now dripping down her wrist, she stares at it for a second, eyes empty, a haunted version of their usual emeralds before dropping to the ground, like a swallow shot from it’s fight flight.
I carry her up to the Medbay but leave before Dr Cho can see me. No one needs to know about the way she danced like she had lost everything, none needs to know about the mirror I painstakingly repaired, no one needs to know about the faint stain of the blood still marking the training room floor, even after an hour of scrubbing. Noone needs to know Natasha Romanoff could be weak.