Author's Note: Hi all, thanks for reading so far! I got a lot of feedback on Always and while it was originally intended to be a one shot, I wanted to write a little more and see what you guys thought. I mean if this is complete bull then I'll take this chapter down but if you guys enjoy it, I have plans for this to potentially have four chapters. But remember, the only way I know how you guys feel about this is by reviewing. Thanks! – Kesque
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
all your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise
She pushes herself up from the bed, cheap mattress wheezing under the weight, and brushes back a handful of ember-filled curls. On the other side of the bed is a young boy, barely twenty two who is fighting to catch his breath. He's yelled out her fake name a couple of times that night, so the Black Widow is well aware of his American accent. His jeans are around his ankles, shoes still on, and his stormy grey eyes look at Natasha like she is a goddess. Natasha ignores his doe-eyed gaze so that she won't remember who used to look at her that way.
His funeral was three weeks ago. Not that it was really a funeral. Just his body cremated in the designated quarters of SHIELD's headquarters. Stark had been there, trying in an incredibly unsuccessful manner to lighten the mood with some of his characteristic snark but given the setting, it was completely inappropriate. Steve played his part well, showing appropriate dignity to a fellow American's body. Natasha thought that if he'd never been given that serum or never been frozen, he'd have ended up delivering the bodies of young soldiers back to their desolate parents. She can imagine him offering them a flag, and informing a shocked father how proud he should be of his son while the mother sobs. Thor had arrived from Asgard in order to pay respects. His awkwardness portrayed the guilt he felt. Without his brother's interference…one more heart would've been beating in that room. Bruce has a mourning presence to him to begin with. Natasha thinks it's because he lives in a state of mourning for his humanity. But he is dressed in a black suit with a look of grief stretched across his face, bordering on denial. Natasha is not present at the funeral. She looks on from the air ducts that stretch through SHIELD. She knows that the team must think her a heartless bitch for not attending, but that's who she is. He bursts into flames. She shivers.
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to be free
Natasha has never been the sort for random hook ups. She doesn't get drunk and make poor decisions. She doesn't believe in one night stands. She can't sleep next to anyone she doesn't trust and her trust is not quickly earned. Natasha's slept with marks before, but their death follows immediately after. This time was different.
She'd fled New York two weeks and six days ago, but physically she'd been quite calm. It was only her mind that was desperate for escape. Luckily Fury had already signed papers giving her a period of extended time off for medical reasons. There was no red tape to be cleared up. She was calm when she settled into a small Midwestern town in Iowa. She felt at peace for a few short moments but she refused to acknowledge why. There'd been a local coffee shop that someone she'd met when grocery shopping had encouraged her to go to. She hadn't realized it was one where angsty teenagers were allowed to perform while she drank, and after two soul-ruining sets she was about ready to go. Then this kid takes the stage with his shy demeanor and cloudy eyes and she feels compelled to stay. Once he pulls his guitar out, the shyness is gone. There is a look of confidence on his face, a look of pleasure as his fingers grace the wooden form.
Then he begins to play and part of her wants to flee but the other part can't bring her feet to move from the floor. "Blackbird fly, Blackbird fly into the light of the dark black night."
He used to love the Beatles. He would've hated the way Natasha looked at this boy though.
And somehow he ends up in her hotel bedroom and she screwed him hard. Her nails had scratched painful red lines down his still young body and her teeth left heavy marks into the flesh of his neck. She's about to screw him harder.
Blackbird fly, Blackbird fly
into the light of the dark black night.
He seems to have caught his breath while she remembers the moments leading up to this. He, this forgotten boy, reaches out and touches the notch of her spine. She spins around, and when she sees his irises that seem to radiate with the peril and beauty of El Nino, Natasha loses herself. "Clint" she whispers, and as the words escape her lips she realizes she is wrong. His eyebrows begin to furrow in confusion.
The Black Widow reaches under her pillow and does what Clint Barton should've done ten years ago when she barely seventeen. She shoots and watches him bleed out on her bed. She goes to wash her hands.
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
all your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise.
