First Avengers fic. I love Natasha with a passion. Especially seeing her in a human light. Enjoy;)
"Won't you open a window sometime?What's so wrong with the light?Wind in your hair, sun in your eyes"
-Angel Olsen
I inhale deeply and then all at once I let it go. I sit on the couch pondering life. What is the purpose of it? What is the reason I am here? Why does pain encompass everything?
It is maddening. The need that fills me. I want to get up and go outside. Feel the sun on my skin. Feel the fresh air in my lungs giving me life. I just can't.
Everything boils down to one thing. She left. This is nothing new. She is always coming and going. Like a rolling stone. She rolls through my window every other night and then leaves. This time the pain is worsened. It's like a broken bone.
Sometimes I wonder why she picked me. What was it about me that intrigued someone of such esteem?
She had saved my life, yes, but why continue? I have no reasons. I have no ideas. All I know is I don't regret it.
When she saved me I remember the look in her eyes. They were desperate and filled with panic. As she picked me up, she held me closely. Protectively.
I'd passed out after I made it to the hospital. She stayed with me the entire time, just watching over me. Her red hair was wild and unkempt like she'd been running her hands through it. Her eyes wild and concerned until she masked them like the spy she is.
I was so confused. Why was this hero here watching over me? It was my fault that I had gotten shot. I was in the way of her target. It was my mistake. She didn't see it that way.
"I apologize," she said cooly. I stared at her blankly. She is apologizing to me?
"It was wrong of me to have..shot you. I have never had an accident such as this."
I continued to stare. She was beautiful. Even with how worn she looked. Her green eyes were so guarded but I knew she was genuinely apologizing.
I wanted to know everything about her.
"It's okay," I rasped. My throat was so dry. As I reached for my water she shot up a little too quickly. The water was in front of my face in seconds, barely sloshing. My eyes widened before I grabbed it and took a sip.
"Your name is Ashton. It's a beautiful name," she said suddenly. I looked at her curiously. The most deadly assassin in the world is telling me my name is beautiful? Something is up.
"Thank you, uh, what is going on? Why are you here," I asked suspiciously. Her beautiful eyes hardened a tiny bit.
My heart jumped.
"As I said before, I am apologizing," she said in a calm voice. I nodded slowly.
"You have and you're still here. Don't you have people to save?" Lips twitches slightly before she caught it. I smiled slightly, taking another sip of water.
"You are correct. I..feel like I owe you. That is why I am still here," she said, looking away. I shook my head frantically.
"You don't owe me anything. I'm fine. I don't want to take any more of your time," I said adamantly. Something inside me stirred. I didn't want her to go but she didn't have any reason to be here. She pursed her lips.
"In that case, I must go. It was a..pleasure to meet you." Her voice was strained for some reason. I squinted at her as she stood slowly and turned to leave.
"Nastasha, wait," I called. She turned toward me swiftly. "Thank you for saving me. I appreciate everything..."
She turned away slightly. I barely managed to see the smile but I did.
"It was my pleasure, Ashton. By the way, it's Natalia." With that, she walked away from me.
I watched her until she vanished from my sight. The cup in my hand was the only thing I had left of her. I stared at it longingly.
At the time, I thought that was the last time I would see her. I was very very wrong.
About a week after I got sent home, she visited me. At first, I had assumed my house was being broken into. When I turned on the light to see her in all her glory my heart dropped like it was just that.
She stood by my window with a blood on her hands. I could see that her lip was busted and her jaw was bruised.
"Are you okay," I croaked. She lifted her eyes from the floor to stare at me with those wild eyes.
"I'm fine. I can't say the same for the other guys," she said with a strained laugh. I smiled minutely.
"You can sit down if you would like." Her lips twitched into smile at my hospitality.
"I just broke into your home and you offer me a seat in it?" Her voice is laced with incredulity.
I chuckled lightly and move to lounge on my bed.
"If you wanted to kill me you would have when we first met," I said, grinning. Her smile grows before it vanishes. She moved like a cat toward my bed and sat with her back on the backboard.
"You are correct," she said softly. I feel oddly comfortable with this stranger in my bed. There is no anxiety.
"I got your address from your ID. I know you're wondering."
I laugh aloud at that. I had wondered at first but I figured it was a spy thing.
"So, why are you here," I asked, quietly. She takes a deep breath and exhales all at once. Her bloody fingers interlock in her lap.
"I..feel normal around you." Her voice is barely audible but I hear her loud and clear. My heart warms in response.
"Why," I ask, tentatively. Her eyes meet mine and they are filled with emotion. I can't quell the surprise at seeing this.
"You haven't showed an ounce of fear toward me even though I've shot you, and broken into you're home with bloody hands and an arsenal," she rasps. She turns away. "You haven't even asked what happened. It's comforting."
I think on this for a second. She is right. I just treat people like humans. Deadly assassins or not.
"Well, I have a sink if you want to wash the blood off," I chuckled. Her laugh is bittersweet. I know she will never be able to but I extend the offering all the same. She takes it.
Once she comes back, we sit in silence. There don't have to be words at all times. Sometimes silence is everything. I lie down beside her and begin to doze off listening to her quiet breaths. Her soft fingers entangle in my hair and I'm out.
I had lost count of how many times she visited my home. Sometimes bloodied and bruised. Other times, in civilian clothing. We shared stories and life lessons. Tales of heartbreak and pain. I could now say that I knew her, 3 years after the shooting. I could now say that I love her.
She doesn't say she loves me when she leaves. She just says close the window when I leave. She never uses the door. I feel like she wants me to be her dirty secret. Like the front door is for people she's not ashamed of.
I think about locking the window sometimes but I never do. Locking the window wouldn't keep her out but it would symbolize the ending of whatever it is that we have.
I never want that. Never.
It is dark when I hear it. The door is opening. I don't even look up. Maybe someone is actually breaking in this time. I silently wonder what she would do if someone killed me. Would she care? Deep down I know that she would kill everything that moved if I died but my brain is sick right now. I feel like I'm being used. I'm too old for this.
The light comes on and I keep my eyes closed. I hope they'll make it quick.
"Ashton, are you sleeping baby?" My eyes snap opened. She's in front of me in my t-shirt and a pair of my joggers. She looks so cute but I can't think about that.
She came through the door.
"What's wrong," she says in confusion. She sits down in front of my legs and rests her hands on my cheeks. My eyes water.
"You came through the front door this time," I say quietly. My voice is wavering. I can't control it.
Her eyes squint and then they widen with understanding.
"Ash, I'm sorry. You are everything to me." Her lips are soft on my own. This kiss isn't lustful. It is reassuring and filled with love like I've always wanted. "I love you. I love you."
Her words are whispered between kisses and they taste sweeter than ambrosia. In that moment, I realize that it doesn't matter how she enters because I am her home.
My windows will always be opened.
