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The character Phillipa belongs to SakuraSou1307
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Natasha Romanoff was never the optimistic type.
Who could? When you had to live the world of black and white – life or death – kill or get killed? I was not responsibility, closer to a curse. They wouldn't call themselves heroes. Because not matter how you put it, like taking out the trash of the world to make it a better place, they killed. Nothing heroic or honorable about that. Sins burdened and each step took you further into deep darkness. Until one day you stopped just long enough to realize, you couldn't even call yourself human.
Deep down, she never told anyone, especially not him, but she always thought he was a hero.
She was never the optimistic type. But both meanings, she looked up to him.
He had shattered almost everything she had built up around her, for as long as she could remember, everything she'd thought was keeping her safe and alive. Or at least that was what life had been for her. The only life she had ever known about: Running, stumbling in the dark. The sounds of guns firing, sharp blades piercing, flesh ripping, the smell of blood,…
And everyday she'd looked down to the sight of her little piece of work, and wondered, what else than all of this?
Clint Barton had offered her a way up.
He could never understand what made that call. Her eyes, her fierce eyes when he'd looked into, he had known they weren't that different. The paths they'd walked, the sins they'd committed, dying lights of possibilities…And he had instantly known she could be something…else. Something more.
So he'd helped her be.
He never took any credit for that. Though he had added an excellent agent for SHIELD and by that, silently helped them keeping the world peace. They never talked much about it. But Clint knew she was grateful, though he'd preferred her not to. What was the difference? A better organization maybe? Still pathetic. They still killed people for a living and to him that was not something she should thank him for. Although the lives she took this time would exchange for many, many other worth living ones.
And before she knew it, he was there. He was always there. The simple thought of him – another person in her little dark world was way too strange, too frightening. It violated Natasha's most important rule: "If you want to survive, don't trust anyone". But then, it became so familiar to the point she thought life could never be the same without him. She couldn't trust him, but she did. He had held out his hand, she had taken hold of. He had led her out, she had followed…And she didn't know how.
Partners – as they were called.
_…~0*0~…_
"Eyes front, Nat. I got this!" Clint said, followed by the sound of an arrow hitting its target and the man about to attack Natasha from behind fell to the ground. Every guy dared to try the same thing ended up the same way. She kept moving, knocking off her enemies until she reached their last and most important target. Fumbling his way out of the car and screamed for mercy when he saw the red hair assassin stood right behind him. If only he'd done the same for all the people he'd killed.
Another mission accomplished.
Just like that. It had become a habit. Each and every time she would look up and give him a thumb up, or a wave. And Clint would scan the area once more to make sure they were safe then come down from his "nest" to join her. Clint would always be there. With his serious face slowly relaxed into a small smile, his sarcastic jokes, his bloody, sweaty body, his rough hands but to her so gentle, slightly touching her face, tucking stray hair behind her ear…
Natasha didn't mind bearing her back to him. She knew Clint had her back. Keeping watch from a distance and making sure she was safe. So she kept striking forward, knowing he was right there behind.
He saw better from a distance, which made him a sniper. She thought that suited him too. Not because he liked to keep everyone at a certain reach, as he'd claimed. But he wanted to keep an eye on all those important to him. Not many, actually. Of course he looked out for their fellow agents too but the ones he called "important" were her and Phillip Coulson only. Then one day, the Avengers. And another day…, well, who knew.
…For him, she would always look up.
_…~0*0~…_
In their lives there were so many things they could and could not have done. But they never felt the need to feel regret. None of them were the optimistic type but when the world could fall down at anytime, the only way was up.
It was a starry night that they knew they were so close to have crossed the line, but went for it anyway. They gazed deep into the other's eyes, and without a word, they both understood. They wanted the same thing. After years riding the coaster of life, they stopped to feel it. For real, if for just one time, feeling so high like no one could touch them. His hot breath tickling her skin, her hands in his hair, lips locked, spiral of mixed sensation shooting through their bodies as they embraced…
"Go ahead, Clint." She whispered.
There was no turning back. It was never about turning back.
_…~0*0~…_
They wouldn't call them consequences, more like a still-too-low-price-for-the-most-amazing-gift.
As far as they care, everyday was like Christmas morning to a child, only with guns and bow and arrows always in hands, paranoid teammates running around like maniacs.
_…~0*0~…_
Natasha's visions were getting blurry, nothing but red before her eyes. Of both her hair sticking to her eyes from the sweat and the blood from her wounds. Her whole body shaking, each heavy breath she took ached to the core, telling her to let go. But she stood her ground. Guns in her hands ready to fire, daring anyone to take another step closer. There were still many of them surrounding her, determining to not join their friends on the ground. Then in a split second, they all charged towards her. Natasha could hear the loud crack of thunder in the sky to know how much Thor wanted to come help, and her other teammates' voices in the communicator screaming her name, telling her to run away and wait for help to arrive. She heard Tony pleading her to run and he would never make narcissistic comments again, Steve yelling for her to back down because damn it that was an order, and Bruce desperately beg her to do so because "this wasn't what Clint would wanted".
They didn't understand. She couldn't. How could she? If she stopped now everything would be vain. They had come this far, they had given this much. There was no way she would let him down. Not now, not ever.
And as usual, she charged forward, without any hesitation.
_…~0*0~…_
She had taken a lot of injuries. Especially her back was full of ugly gashes. Blood tripping down, forming a small pool of red around her. But she was alive. She had had worse, compared to them this was still easy.
Like any other time, she looked up behind her.
Oh, right, almost forgot. She smiled bitterly.
"It's ok. We're fine, you can come down now."
Just in seconds later a small figure wearing an over-sized boxer, T-shirt with a large purple "H" and ridiculous ducky slippers appear behind the abandoned house's window. Jump down and landed gracefully. The little girl with messy red hair and blue-gray eyes gave her mother a worry look then pout.
"You know I could have helped, right?"
"I know you could, sweetie. I know you could…" Natasha gave a slight smile. "Let's go home."
The 10-year-old named Phillipa skipped her way to her mother and took her hand. All the blood and everything never scared her. Natasha was kind of hoping she would. It would be easier to keep her away from this life of her parents.
As they walked, Natasha still couldn't help herself from looking up behind her one more time. She never stopped doing that. Ever since the day they had lost him. She would look up to every building's window, every rooftop and imagine if she waited long enough, he would be there. Smiling the smile she loved, and coming down to her and their daughter, wrapping his warmth around them. She might even imagine him swept Phillipa up her feet, spin her around, and they would laugh like a normal family at the amusement park.
But he wasn't there.
Her eyes stung, her heart sank at each time.
He was not there. Not anymore. But to her, he would always be.
Watching them from afar.
So she turned around and walked ahead.
This life, these battles were endless. No matter what, after every one she would always look up. She would look up not only because of him, but for him. And she'd always keep walking ahead, for their daughter, for the things they had sworn to cherish and protect. Clint had done his part until the very end. Now Natasha had to do hers for everything he had left to this world.
Up and ahead.
It wasn't about optimism.
It was just the way things had to be...