The Avengers
Every Parent's Worst Nightmare
Disclaimer: I Own Nothing
Summary: Every parent fears their child following their footsteps down a dark path. That fear is especially intense for assassins.
Every parent on the planet that has the right to call themselves a mom or dad, not just some sperm or egg donor, bears the weight of overwhelming fear that their children will follow their footsteps down some dark path someday. For most parents, that dark path is littered with beer cans from stupid house parties where things got a little out of hand or a failing report card or two. For some, it's worse than that. Strewn along side their faded footprints there might be used needles, arrest records, and maybe even an old dvd with three 'x's and a bad sex pun below even James Bond movie standards on the cover. For assassins, former or otherwise, those dark paths of their pasts (and futures as well most likely) are splattered with blood and covered in the thick residue of gun powder.
Natasha is sure Clint fears the same things she does. They don't speak of it, always a bit paranoid that by some movie-like twist of fate, the one time they do, one of their children will overhear it. Natasha doesn't want such dark thoughts in her kids' heads. Victoria is just eleven and Alexei is only five, not even in kindergarten yet since his birthday was too late in the year to meet the age requirement for the academy. Which might be for the better, Natasha thinks when Victoria comes home one day with a flyer from said private school and a hopeful smile.
The academy was another precaution, just like the silence surrounding the topic. Lots of agents and heroes sent their kids there rather than risk public school or put up with the snobbishness and expenses of other private schools. Stark Industry and various world governments are generous donors to the facility that keeps the children of Earth's mightiest heroes safe from the darkness of their parents' lives.
However, even with the tall walls surrounding the complex, the state of the art security, and a staff of trusted agents and heroes running the place, it seemed somehow the Black Widow's worst nightmare had found a way to poke at her maliciously. In the form of a seemingly harmless yellow flyer no less. "I'm old enough for the archery club this year." Victoria announces, holding up the flyer for both her parents to see. The formatting is simple and the words benign: simple dates and times, a phone number, the names of the captain and the supervising teacher. However, the clip art depiction of a bow and arrow in the corner sets off a couple dozen alarm bells in Natasha like someone had just tried to shoplift in her brain. She knows it does the same for Clint without even looking at him next to her at the kitchen table.
"Tori, you're eleven." Clint immediately protests. "Even I didn't start learning until I was thirteen." A lie. He was a circus brat who started doing routines along with his folks as young as eight years old before a live audience. His young age was in fact the main draw. Tori didn't need to know that though.
The girl's hope wavered a moment but stubbornly remained in her eyes. "I wouldn't be handling real arrows or anything. They give the younger kids arrows with suction cup ends. And the captain said the younger kids don't practice anywhere near the kids with the real arrows. They take every precaution!" She informed them. Most other parents might have relented at that point, or at least have told her they'd think on it before ultimately saying no. Natasha preferred the band-aid method.
Tori, the answer is no." She told her daughter sternly. Tori looked devastated. More like she'd just been told the dog had to be put down than that she couldn't join the archery club. There was of course the mandatory flash of resentment in her eyes that disappeared before it could get her in trouble. She excused herself from the kitchen then to go to her room, taking the flyer with her. As she disappears down the hall, Natasha can hear her crumbling it up angrily.
Clint deflates in his chair and rubs his temples. "I swear I didn't know it was genetic." He mutters. Natasha sighs. "This is something out of a bad fanfic. You know. The ones where the second generation is nothing but xeroxes of the first." She complains. "Ironic, seeing as how the next generation would probably have no idea what a xerox even is." Clint replies with a sardonic chuckle. Natasha joins him with a dry smile.
"Let's hope that Alexei doesn't demand an all black wardrobe when we go school shopping for him next summer." She adds, and Clint laughs just a smidgen more before sobering. "What are we going to do, Nat?" He asks quietly. It's the first time that question has been asked in this context since before Tori was born. Hours beforehand in fact, when reality decided to hit them both like a raging Hulk. They hadn't come up with a solid answer then and they didn't really have one now either. "I don't know. Just try and keep them both on the right path, I guess." She replied.
"How do we know what's the right path though?"
"Any path that isn't ours is the right one for them. I don't want them to become like us, Clint. I don't want them following our footsteps."
Clint reached out and touched her hand. "I'm afraid to give even an inch too. I fear a snowball effect just as much as you do, Nat. But..." He paused and glanced in the direction of the kitchen entry way. "Is it worth her resenting us over something as benign as joining a school club?"
She didn't hesitate. "Yes."
Clint smiled thinly at her. "Glad to see we're on the same page."
A/N: I hope you enjoyed the read. Please review.
I'm thinking about maybe adding a sequel.