It was over.
All of the life she had built, the walls that surrounded her heart. Natasha Romanoff, hardened spy with an inhuman amount of red in her ledger, was broken.
Her body was glistening with the sheen of sweat, every nerve in her body on fire. It was the most painful thing she had ever felt, well past a bullet to the shoulder. But then with a final burst of fiery pain it lessened dramatically. She lay there in the bed in sweet relief, for once ignoring her surroundings. A sharp cry rose up, but she pushed down the emotions that rose with it. And after what felt like hours later a cloth bundle was pressed into her exhausted arms against her will.
She didn't want him. She really didn't. He was what Natasha and Steve had wanted - not the Black Widow. The little baby deserved better than this hollowed out shell of a mother with nothing to offer. He was better off with another family, with two parents instead of a single broken assassin. With someone who would care for him, give him what he deserved.
But the walls were gone, washed away by the flood of love as she was handed her baby boy.
He was so tiny, though it could be that the only experience she had was with Barton's children. His little eyelids were shut tightly but she could see the beginning of what would one day be long eyelashes. His chubby little cheeks were flushed red, but he was silent, rather surprisingly.
Her boy was all wrapped up in a little cloth that held his little arms from wiggling. Upon pulling off the little cap someone had placed on him during the night, she was greeted by a shock of damp blond hair. A tired smile lit up her face as she carefully ran her fingers through it. Just like his father.
"Hello, little one," she whispered, pulling him closer to her tired face. He stirred for a moment, and Natasha fleetingly worried that she had done something wrong. And then his tiny lids fluttered open, eyes settling on his mother's face.
Her heart skipped a beat as the eyes of her husband stared back at her. Bright blue eyes, hypnotized by her green irises. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes at the old pain, but she suppressed it.
The Black Widow doesn't cry. Never show vulnerability. But caressing her son so close, she realized that no one could take him away from her, not even her own conscious. Not the fearless monster she had been raised to be since she was a girl.
He blinked twice, mouth opening slightly before his tiny lungs began to scream. Natasha jumped, eyes torn from the formerly angelic face to search for help. A leftover nurse, seeing her distress, hurried over with a bottle.
Early on, she had told the nurses she wasn't interested in 'naturally' feeding. If she was giving him away, they wouldn't allow it. Now he wasn't going anywhere, but still missions wouldn't allow. So rather awkwardly, the younger woman instructed the assassin on how to tip the tiny container just right. She caught on fast and was alone in under six minutes, watching his chest rise and fall with every breath and sip of formula.
Her little boy fell asleep before he finished. She gently pulled the rubber nipple from between his lips and shifted him into the crook of her arm. He stayed still, breathing softly, as she returned the little blue cap to his head.
Natasha watched him sleep peacefully with a ghost of a smile on her face before her own exhaustion began to take over. Her lips drifted down, and she planted a light kiss to his forehead. Laying back, she finally let the darkness overtake her, little one in hand.
The nurse attempted to take him when she saw the scene (apparently it's not all that safe to sleep with a newborn), but one glare from the feared spy left them in peace. Her child wasn't a possession; he was a human being who was meant to be next to her in the first precious hours of his life. He wouldn't be taken from his mother to be placed in a glass box amongst strangers. No, not after her husband had already been taken from her. Natasha wouldn't leave another one she loved.
In the morning after a long night's rest, she was presented with a birth certificate. Without any hesitation she scribbled down Steven Barton Rogers. It was the least she could do after not being strong enough to save her husband, after all. Barton was for her best friend whom had been beside her before all of this madness, no matter what. Clint would object, but he wasn't here to complain as of currently.
Speaking of which...
Natasha winced inwardly at how mad the archer was going to be. Her hand scrabbled for her cellphone on the side table, fingers curling around the casing. His number was clicked and in mere seconds he had picked up.
"Nat? Where have you been? Lila was waiting up for you all night!"
She winced; her conscience felt horrible as of right now. The family had no idea of her pregnancy. Natasha had finally agreed to meet them after almost a year, the guilt beginning to subside.
"I-I'm sorry," she stuttered. The Black Widow stuttered. (You're rubbing off on me already, little one). "It's . . . Well, complicated."
Worry crept into her friend's voice. "You alright?"
"It'd be easier to explain on a Skype," she whispered, pulling the sleeping infant closer. He snuggled into the new position sleepily.
Clint sounded exhausted as the voices of small, excited children crept through the ear piece. "Alright. The whole fam's excited, if that's alright,"
She nodded, pursing her lips. "That's fine. You guys...I owe it to you,"
"You don't owe us anything, Natasha. I know how hard it's been since the war..." He trailed off as a note of bitterness hung in the air. "...and Steve,"
Natasha was silent for a few moments, Clint respecting it. She would never really get over what the press called The Modern Civil War. None of them would. It had torn apart so many lives and left no room for repair, the government eventually declaring war on any superpowered individuals. Cap and Hawkeye had dared to separate, but Natasha had refused. She had enough red in her ledger as it was. The war cost her so much more than that color - it cost the Avenger her husband.
"We can't change it, Clint," she bit out sharply, but the archer could still see beyond her tone. "It happened whether we like it or not. We just need to pick up what we can and move on,"
"I know," he responded, softness in his tone. "But sometimes, I'm not sure if that's the right thing,"
Natasha couldn't deal with this right now. Eventually, yes. But right now Clint needed to know about her son and why she had cut off connection with him. This wasn't the time to dwell on what had happened, rather to look towards the future.
"I'll Skype you," she changed the topic, rearranging herself in bed. She winced at the soreness in her legs and lower half. "Are the kids up for it?"
"For Auntie Nat?" She caught the smile in his voice. "Always,"
She smiled and gently clicked off the phone, opening the Skype app instead. Within minutes the connection was completed and she smiled at the excited young faces of the Barton children. Her arms arranged it so that the view was only on her face, excluding the baby.
"Hey, guys! You've all grown so big!" Natasha marveled at them, eyes alight with a joy she hadn't felt in so long. "Giving your old man a run for his money, I see,"
"I'm not old!" Clint protested from off screen. The kids just laughed, and Lila spoke up first.
"Where have you been? I miss you,"
Natasha smirked, eyes twinkling. Clint seemed to catch on to the small beat of silence, and jumped into the view of the computer's camera.
"What the heck are you doing in a hospital?" He yelped, eyes darting around her surroundings.
Natasha swiveled the camera so that Steven's sleeping form came into view. "Say hello to Steven Barton Rogers,"
Clint's eye virtually popped out of his skull. For perhaps the first time in her life, Natasha had rendered the archer speechless. Regardless, as the kids squealed and cooed over the little one's face, Clint was running up the stairs. He returned moments later with Laura, whom looked half-asleep. Finally, her eyes registered the image and her face lit up.
"Oh, Natasha he's beautiful!" She whispered, eyes stuck to the screen.
"And unexpected!" Clint chirped, still in awe. "How could you not tell us?"
"I was scared," Natasha stated bluntly. Clint's eyes were torn from the baby to look at her.
"Why?" He asked, confusion evident on his face. The question hung in the air, the children quieting as if sensing the disturbance. "You know, even after everything, that we wouldn't have turned you away."
Natasha bit her lip and turned to look out the window of the hospital room. The baby moved quietly, eyes opening softly. "I couldn't put it on you. I couldn't hurt you,"
"You know you never could." Clint objected softly.
She sighed, readjusting Steven as he began to fuss. "I shouldn't be able to have this, Clint. The baby wasn't supposed to survive the pregnancy. How could I show up, pregnant, excite the kids. And then, after everything, lose him?"
Laura herded said kids out, none objecting. He raked a hand through his hair tiredly, eyes watching his family exit. "You know that's not why, Tasha,"
She remained silent, staring into the bright blues of her infant's eyes.
"Look, I'm not going to push you. I know it's been a rough night, and this isn't going to help any. You'll talk when you're ready. You always have, and I doubt this is going to break the system. Now, where are you staying?"
Her tired green eyes finally raised to meet his. "Just outside Topeka,"
He nodded, standing. "You up for travel?"
Biting her lip again, she nodded softly. "I've been through worse,"
"That's not what I'm asking. Do you want to travel?"
She nodded, shifting in the bed. "I can't stand hospitals. You know that,"
A grin lit up his face as he picked up a pair of car keys from the side of the computer. "I'll be there in a few hours. Just rest, get ready."
Tears were filling her eyes. What had she ever done to deserve his friendship? Even after a full year of silence he was caring for her as if nothing had ever happened.
"Clint," she whispered, running a hand through her matted hair. "Thank you,"
The spark was back in his eye, teasing as he pulled on a coat. "What else was I gonna do? Leave you out in the cold?"
Hi! I'm Kayla, since you probably haven't met me. This was a random little ficlet written in about an hour, and I don't quite know where it came from.
This was my very first attempt at writing ️Avengers, so feedback is appreciated. And yes, this was set post-Civil War. I don't quite know why, it just worked its way in.
Anyway, I'd love a review! It encourages me to write for different Fandoms ? See you all soon, hopefully! Thanks for reading!