So I realized that I posted this to my AO3 account, but not here... sorry! I'll catch you up to the first 3 chapters...
The alarm sounded to the right of the bed, startling Steve into awareness. He stirred in the soft sheets, turning onto his back before opening his eyes. He stared into the darkness in confusion, his mind noting that with his eyes open, he should be seeing something.
Steve quickly closed his eyes before the panic that was cresting the side of his mind could settle into a full attack.
Right, he couldn't see anymore. The realization sunk into his mind like it did every morning, slowly seeping into every crevasse in cold fear. After a year Steve thought he should be over this feeling, but it seemed that it would be here to stay for quite a while longer. His psychologist had assured him that the depression would pass, that soon he would be feeling like his normal self as his body adjusted. Humans are amazingly adaptable like that.
But Steve suspected that his brain was as shit as his body and would break down somewhere along the process. Maybe it would twist in the wrong way, like the scoliosis in his spine did. Or maybe it would like to clench up on itself like his asthma liked to do in his chest. Perhaps it would start to feel better only to flutter whenever it damn felt like it, like his heart sometimes did. Or maybe it would forget to important parts of the world like his colorblindness had and his partial deafness tended to still do. Or perhaps it would just not work right, like his entire body.
Steve yanked himself from his self deprecating thoughts, like his therapist always told him to do, focusing on what he was going to do next.
Sit up, put feet on left side of bed, stand up. 14 steps to his closet, open left door, grab shirt. Open right door, grab pants. Do not forget to close doors, again! Last time had given Steve a giant bruise on his shoulder and anxiety of moving around his room for a week. Move back 14 steps to bed. Put on clothes. Walk right 17 steps, turn left. Open door and leave room. 30 steps to kitchen and then decide what he needed to do next.
But first, he had to turn off that annoying alarm.
Steve and his therapist had decided that Steve needed to live away from the Disability Center that had housed him after his accident. He had no family, so it was easy to decide that he should live on his own. His therapist wanted him to live in the suburbs, away from his work and the high crime rate that was always found in the city, but Steve had always loved Brooklyn. It was his home for all of his life, and even though he couldn't draw the cityscape anymore, it was where he felt the most comfortable.
Steve and his therapist had compromised on a small apartment complex that had two tenants per floor with 3 floors. It was cheap, it was near public transportation, and it was near a grocery store. It would severely help Steve adjust to his new… life.
The apartments were surprisingly spacious for the rent he was paying. He had a kitchen/living room, full bathroom, and two full rooms besides. Steve had first thought it was a complete con before he met the owner.
Tony Stark was an energetic ball of sarcasm and disdain. But his attitude towards people as well as money helped Steve understand why no one wanted to live in the cheap place. Having to put up with that type of personality would be hard for anyone. But the price was just sooo nice that Steve had to take it. He would deal with Tony the same way he dealt with bullies in high school. Ignore until he had to confront.
The other tenants in the building weren't too bad. They all had their own eccentricities, but when Steve had talked to them, they seemed nice enough.
Steve's therapist encouraged Steve to talk to his neighbors, finding that such communication would greatly help keep Steve's depression at bay. Having a community that he could rely on was important as Steve adjusted. And having helpful people nearby meant that he had a larger amount of autonomy, knowing he could call on anyone of them if he needed to.
Steve had wanted to start with his next door neighbor, but the man always seemed to be out during the day. So, Steve had first met the couple that lived downstairs.
Natasha was a Russian who had come to the US when she was a child. Apparently she had been a ballerina for a while before she had started dating her current lover. She never discussed what she did now, and Steve found it too personal to ask. She was cold and collected with a quick wit and almost inhuman ability to know "things" about a person.
When she had noticed Steve's blindness, she was quick to describe herself, seeming to sense that Steve was still new to meeting someone without being able to put a look to the voice. She had described herself as late-twenties red head with green eyes. And apparently a "kick ass" body, as her partner so loved to describe it.
Her partner, Clint, was much more laid back, always seeming to have a joke on his tongue. Clint had described himself as a brown haired twenty-something man with amazing arms that came from his archery "skillz". Clint had specifically told Steve to put a 'z' on the end because he was that good. Apparently these "skillz" came from Clint's childhood as being a performer in the circus. When Steve asked, Clint had regaled him with stories, each one getting more and more impossible as Clint continued.
The balance between Natasha and Clint seemed to have an electric sense to it. Steve could feel how Clint was Natasha's anchor, while she was his driving force. It was such a strong dynamic that it seemed almost choking in its strength. But despite the balance, Natasha seemed to be the one in charge. Clint allowed her to talk and make decisions more often than he did. And Natasha's personality seemed to eclipse Clint in its brightness.
Frankly, Steve loved the couple. They had been kind towards him, inviting him into their house and serving tea as they took the time to talk to him. The room had smelled very sharp, like fresh bleach was put down every day, but Steve didn't mind it. He had cocked it up to just one of their peculiarities.
Another was their frequent addition of furniture.
For example, just last week Steve had decided to go grocery shopping. It was his one "out of the house" activity for the day, and he was running low on soup, only having 5 cans left. He had left the apartment dressed in some colored shirt and some type of pant. He decided he was going to leave with just a small windbreaker since the TV that was always on in his kitchen had talked about the weather being in the mid 50s.
He was taking the stairs carefully, his hated walking cane lazily dropped on his left shoulder as he descended. Not the safest place for it to be, but Steve was having one of those "bad days" and wasn't in the mood to use it properly. He had heard some thumping and dragging noises as he came to the 12th step. Realizing it was coming from Natasha's floor, Steve stepped into the hallway slightly confused.
"Hello?"
All noise stopped in the area immediately. Steve froze as the silence alerted him that something was wrong.
"Natasha?" He questioned the darkness, pulling his walking cane closer to his feet and taking a tentative step toward the noise.
What if it was a dog, or burglar or something trying to get into his friends' room?
"Natasha?" Steve whispered out, uncertain all over again.
"Oh, Steve, I didn't see you there," her bright voice answered out from the void, though it sounded a little out of breath. Steve relaxed, letting himself slip out of the automatic fight or flight stance he had taken.
"What's going on? I heard something heavy being moved over here, and…"
There was a beat of silence, before, "Clint and I are just moving in a new couch. We were having a hard time moving it through the door."
Steve wondered at the hesitation before he took a step forward. "Well how about I help you? I can at least lift a couch." Steve took another step towards where Natasha's voice was. A small part of his brain quivered, like something was wrong, but Steve easily ignored it. Everything felt wrong nowadays.
"No thanks. I don't think you'll be able to be of much help." Came a harsh reply.
Steve froze in place, a little shocked by the blunt response. He knew that his blindness was limiting, but he could still help out a little. "Yeah, I guess I wouldn't be much help." He mumbled to himself, hugging the cane a little closer to his body. His crutch in life. Another reminder of how he couldn't be normal anymore.
"It would be too large for you to carry," Natasha's conciliatory voice floated by again. "I would be worried it would crush you." There was a hint of guilt underlying the statement, and Steve realized she hadn't meant to insult him.
He grinned in her direction, but had a strong suspicion that it wasn't as cheerful as he wanted it to be. "You're right, it would probably be too much for me." He scuffed his foot on the floor before turning slightly, still "looking" in Natasha's direction. "Well I should get back to grocery shopping." And without even a good-bye, Steve turned to leave.
But before he could take a step, he felt a wrongness in the air ahead of him, like there was something blocking his way. Cautious and curious, Steve moved his cane out a little ahead of him, looking for the obstruction. But it didn't catch on anything.
Steve felt a slight worry, wondering if he was going crazy now too, before shaking it off and moving forward again, not meeting any resistance as he moved towards the staircase.
He thought back to his interaction with the couple, just now realizing that he hadn't heard Clint the entire time.
"I hope she didn't kill him or something," Steve muttered to himself, smiling at the thought of Natasha killing her boyfriend and dragging his corpse into her apartment. It was an idle thought, though quite morbid. But it was fitting with his mood today.
Steve cussed as he tripped over the last step, miscounting as his thoughts wandered away.
Natasha glowered at Clint as she tried to drag the deadweight into her room. The man just watched her, a playful smirk on his mouth as he leaned against the wall on the other side of the hallway, looking quite relaxed. He was moping about not being able to choose the target this time. It was such a childish reaction that Natasha almost smiled even though her annoyance was taking up most of her emotional space.
She was about to open her mouth and yell at him to get his ass over here and help her when a soft "hello?" filled the hallway.
Natasha froze in place, her head snapping around to look at their small blonde neighbor. He was standing there in the middle of the hallway, staring at her in bewilderment.
Fear crashed around her as she stared at the khaki wearing man. They had worked so hard for this apartment and now they were going to be found out? All because Clint was being an ass!?
Clint had already strung his bow and was pointing an arrow at the young man, ready for his screaming to start as he saw them pulling a black bag that looked strikingly like a dead body into their room.
"Natasha?"
The red head almost flinched at her name, barely keeping herself from showing any fear. She had liked the small blonde that had visited them when he had moved in. He was kind and bright, a large difference to the people that she and Clint hunted. She had wanted to keep the blind man around for a little-
Blind! Natasha's eyes pinpointed on the white cane that the boy was now pulling towards his body, his face taking on a cautious, uncertain look. There was no way the kid would be able to see what they were doing no less tell anyone about it!
"Natasha?" Came the worried query, the boy seeming to shrink in on himself again, his body tensing.
"Oh, Steve, I didn't see you there," Natasha managed, her eyes flitting to her partner who had circled behind the blonde, still ready to kill if the boy showed signs of having figured out what had happened.
Steve seemed to relax at her answer, his grip on his walking stick loosening and he took a step forward. "What's going on? I heard something heavy being moved over here, and…"
Natasha tensed again, sending a glare at Clint to remind him that it was his fault they were in this situation in the first place. "Clint and I are just moving in a new couch. We were having a hard time moving it through the door." Natasha lied, a small frown flitting onto her mouth at the stupid excuse she made up. Clint also sent her an unimpressed glance, but he was in the dog house right now, so it didn't matter what he thought.
"Well, how about I help you? I can help you lift the couch." Steve took another step closer to the edge of the bag.
Natasha almost rolled her eyes at the bleeding heart that this man had. But no matter how naïve he was she needed to stop this before he took those next two steps and felt something that was definitely not a couch. "No thanks. I don't think you'll be able to help much."
And then she was graced with the saddest kicked puppy expression she had ever seen.
Guilt flickered through her as she saw what her reply did. She watched as the young man pulled in on himself again, this time from sadness rather than fear. "Yeah, I guess I wouldn't be much help." He muttered, his face turning downwards.
"It would be too large for you to carry. I would be worried it would crush you." Natasha attempted. She felt bad about hurting the man's feelings, she could only imagine how losing your sight would limit what you did.
Natasha would hate to be blind. Her world was focused on what you could see. Dancing was a very visual sport. And the things she loved in life were very visual too. She wouldn't be able to see the brilliant colors that the human eye turned after the host died. She wouldn't be able to see the beautiful hair that she collected from her noncompliant guests. She wouldn't e able to see Clint take that artful kill shot from the rooftop. Truly, not being able to see would be a terrible fate.
The conciliatory remarks didn't seem to do their job as Steve just gave a self-deprecating smile. "Your right, it would probably be too much for me." He turned away from her, his mouth still pulling out this sad look. "Well I should get back to grocery shopping." And Steve turned his back to her.
Natasha watched on as the blonde paused in his exit, sliding his cane forward in front of him. Clint silently avoided the swing, a mildly impressed look covering his previously dark features.
Steve gave a small shrug before continuing on his way, walking into the stairwell.
Natasha let out a small breath of relief. That had been amazingly stressful. She would never have thought that the small blind man could make her sweat so much from just walking onto her floor at the wrong time!
"The kid can sense things," Clint muttered, stepping over to his partner, and finally helping her move her prize inside. "I didn't make a sound and yet he knew that something was behind him."
Natasha rolled her eyes at his dramatics as they both dropped the corpse by the wall in the room. "Well, being blind probably heightens other senses. He most likely just heard you breathing or something." Natasha muttered back. "And speaking of hearing, we wouldn't have been in that situation if you had just helped me get the body through the door when we got here!"
Clint shrugged, kicking the black body bag. "I wanted the brunette! She was so drugged out of her mind she wouldn't have noticed a thing. And plus no one would miss her as much as they would miss this beauty."
Natasha sighed as she kneeled down, unzipping the bag. "But then I wouldn't have gotten this beautiful hair." She fingered the blonde locks gently, watching the gold slide between her fingers. "I've been wanting to grab a blonde all week! It has been an itch under my skin. And you know how bad those can get."
Clint kneeled down, reaching forward to pry open the eyes. "So, it wasn't the blue eyes?"
Natasha shrugged. "That was part of it. I've been too tempted in this apartment." Her eyes flitted to the door to the hallway where her neighbor had stood not a minute ago. "He's such a pretty boy."
Clint snorted as he pulled out his knife to begin taking apart the body. Natasha had such a bad habit of getting obsessed with certain traits. But at least next time he would get his busty brunette! He had seen her once, and now she was marked in his mind.
She would be his next target.
Natasha Romanov and Clint Barton (aka The Cupid Killer)
MO: Current kill count- 7 20-30 yr. old women. All taken from downtown bars and dives. Killed with a single arrow through the heart. Arrow is a broadhead shot from a recurve bow. Bodies are usually discovered in the business in a black trash bag. The body is completely dismembered at time of discovery. Parts of body are taken, usually consisting of eyes or hair, though hands and feet have been harvested from the victim. Harvesting has been done skillfully with a scalpel. No signs of sexual molestation or rape have been found.
Natasha is the alpha personality of the group, but unlike many other serial killer pairs, Clint is not as submissive or stupid as the secondary killer. He just doesn't mind letting the more intense Russian red-head take the lead. Their kills are based on coveting what a woman has and on the fact that the woman does not use said attribute to it's fullest potential. Many of their choices tend to be drug addicts, though it is not a requirement. Natasha usually leads target out of bar and onto a rooftop where her partner will take the kill shot and the two of them work to remove whatever body part was wanted. Police think that there is only one killer at this time.
So this fanfic came from reading another fanfic's summary incorrectly. It had said "Steve was blind and didn't know what was going on in the apartment below him..." It was meant as a hurt/comfort fanfic about Steve meeting Bucky downstairs, but all I thought, in my Criminal Minds ravaged brain was... "Yeah, cause they were all serial killers." And then this idea of Steve blindly wandering around not noticing that his neighbors were literally killing people came into my head. Yeah, my humor tends to be on the weird side...
Hope you liked the first installment.