Chapter 6
“Natasha Fury.” Maria sat down opposite to the red-haired girl. “Your father is the principal of Shield Academy, is that correct?”
“Yes,” Natasha answered, her face perfectly blank, her body still.
“And he is also a friend of Alexander Pierce?”
“Yes.”
“Howard Stark?”
“Yes.”
“You grew up with a lot of important people.”
“Yes.”
“And you are friends with their children.”
“Yes.”
“Tell me about your friends, Natasha,” Maria demanded, watching closely as Natasha wetted her lips, observant eyes never wavering.
“What do you want to know?” the girl countered, the shadow of a smile now playing around her lips.
“Whatever you can tell me.”
“I’ve known most of them since I was a child,” Natasha said, “It used to be Clint, Tony, Brock and I. Then Sharon and Peggy joined us. Then Bruce and Pepper. Then Sam. And now Steve, Pietro and Wanda.”
“Yes…” Maria nodded. She already knew all this. “Sam told us that you and Clint were very keen on befriending him. Why was that?”
Natasha gave a slight shrug, hardly noticeable unless you were looking for it. “Reasons.”
“And Brock? He is no longer part of your group, is he?”
“No, he isn’t.”
“Why?”
“Other reasons.”
Maria suppressed a sigh.
“You’re going to have to give me more than that, Natasha.”
“Different opinions on certain matters,” she answered evasively, “People change. It happens.”
“It does,” Maria agreed. “He wasn’t very fond of the new students, was he?”
“No.”
“Do you know why?”
“Brock values money and power. Steve, Wanda and Pietro don’t have either.”
“And you? What do you value?”
“I do not have a problem with them. They’re my friends.”
“And yet,” Maria said, looking in her file, “You said, and I quote, ‘That boy is trouble’, when referring to Steve Rogers.”
Natasha arched one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows, “He is,” she said, “Although I admit that I misjudged his character at first. Like I said, they’re my friends. Steve included.”
“Pietro Maximoff is more than your friend, though, isn’t he?”
“We had sex,” Natasha deadpanned, “That doesn’t mean he cannot be my friend.”
“And I never suggested otherwise.” Maria replied calmly, meeting Natasha’s gaze and holding it, “Did you know that Sharon suspected Clint of cheating on you?”
“Yes.”
“Care to elaborate?”
Natasha let out a sound which was almost a sigh and started talking, “At Stark’s party…”
It was loud. Too loud for Natasha’s taste.
She had just gotten herself another drink and tried to make her way back to Clint when a very drunk Sharon almost knocked her over.
“Oh! Ohh, Natasha!” she slurred, swaying on her feet and would have probably fallen over if Natasha hadn’t reached out to keep her on her feet, “’m so sorry, Natasha.”
“No worries, Sharon,” Natasha told her friend, warily eyeing her drink, “You’ve had enough for now, don’t you think?” she suggested and took the glass from Sharon.
“Thank you, Natasha.”
“You’re very welcome. Let’s get you some water, okay?”
“Thank you,” Sharon repeated, “You’re such a good friend, you know? Such a – such a good friend.”
“I do my best. Here, sit down.” Carefully, Natasha pushed Sharon onto the chair in the fortunately empty kitchen and walked over to the faucet to get some water. “There you go.”
“You’re such a good friend,” Sharon said again, “An’ you deserve so much better. So much better.”
“I’m quite happy with my life, Sharon.”
“No. No, no, no. You deserve so much better.”
Natasha frowned, not sure how to react, “What do you mean, Shar?”
“There’s so many secrets, Tasha…and they hurt people. I don’t want to hurt people.”
“You’re not hurting anyone, Sharon,” Natasha assured her, kneeling down in front of her friend, “Just look at Sam. Do you know how happy you make him?”
“He makes me happy.” Sharon smiled brightly.
“That’s good. See? You’re not hurting anyone.”
“I don’t want to hurt people,” Sharon muttered, “But people hurt people and Clint…Clint is hurting you.”
“Why would Clint hurt me?” Natasha asked, now seriously concerned. Sharon was drunk, sure, but she was an honest drunk. An emotional drunk.
“Clint is hurting you Natasha and I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You’re not hurting me, Sharon, I promise. Just tell me about Clint.”
“I saw him, Natasha…saw him looking at Pietro. Kissing him.”
“Thank you for telling me, Shar,” Natasha replied calmly, “You’re a good friend too.”
“No’ as good as you,” Sharon slurred, her head lolling forward as if she was about to fall asleep.
“Sharon? Sharon? Wait here, okay? I’m going to get Sam. He’ll take care of you.”
“What happened then?” Maria inquired.
“I found Sam, sent him to Sharon, then went back to the party.”
“Thank you, Natasha.”