Unbroken
{Chapter 3}
The sound of restless waves grew intense. Natasha was standing rigidly on the edge of a shoreline. Iron- straight red locks framed over her pale features. She felt hollow. Behind her an American flag mounted on a pile of stone billowed against the restless wind. The colors faded with age. She listened to the splashing noise coming from her left. Daring a chance, she opened her green eyes and stared, intently at a small child splashing and giggling in the shallow water.
A little girl. Beautiful and graceful. Her blonde curls bounced over her shoulders and a smile took over her delicate features. She looked around four years of age, full of life and innocent. Natasha walked closer to the water, her bare feet became compromised by the rolling tide. She blinked out fever out of her eyes, and just stared at the child. Capturing all the detail. Crystal blue eyes that shone like steel against the line. The gaze of Captain America. It became clear to her, that the girl was in fact her daughter.
"Brooklyn," Steve called out, firm and loving. His blue eyes looking directly at his daughter. The softness of his voice stretched. His hand extended out as the playful and gentle little girl splashed water at him. He shook his head, only for moment, and then a hollow chuckle broke from his lips. Natasha spared him a glance before returning her eyes on the blue waters. The atmosphere was peaceful and assuring. Sail boats were in the distance, and a lighthouse mounted on jagged cliff overlooking the rocky white sands. Then, she turned her indent focus back onto him.
The super-soldier was observant, but more content. His wet, blonde hair had fallen into sloppy tendrils over his brow. His muscles gleamed like bronze in the caress of the light spreading over the gray cloud cover building on the horizon.. His face was full of chiseled definition. Stoneware jeans where speckled with water drops. His thick and hard chest covered with a light gray Avengers' shirt that didn't help to conceal much of his muscles in that regard. He looked happy."Come on, beautiful. We're late to see Aunt Peggy."
Fire burned inside Natasha's heart. Devouring every piece of her. "Daddy," her daughter giggled out Steve's name. She looked at the little girl sloshing her feet into the waves, smiling brightly with her blue eyes looking directly at Steve. Her gaze with mischievous. "Daddy, come in the water..Splash. Splash." She put her hands impatiently on her little hips. "I'm waiting..."
Steve drew out a frustration breath, and reluctantly stepped into the water. His jeans were getting drenched. "Brooklyn," He countered firmly, before he could get the last word, their daughter collided into his muscled legs, she wrapped her arms over his waist, looking up at him. "That's my best girl..." He said, his laugh lines crinkled as he crouched down to her level. He turned his ice blue eyes at Natasha, he smiled broadly. "Our daughter is as stubborn as you, Nat."
There were a few quite moments that followed, Natasha nodded in return. "She's beautiful, Rogers." Her voice was shuttering, and her skeptical green eyes settled back on her daughter. She glanced back at him. Her lips straining to hold a snarky grin. It didn't seem real to her. Tension in her body uncoiled when she stared into the eyes of the little child in front of her. A precious life that deserved freedom from the horrific past of her mother. The scars of her surgeries began seared her insides, blood heated and tears threatened to betray her masked emotions. Taking a step back, she felt the ground tremble under her feet.
Natasha knew it was dream. She blinked at him. Her eyes watered. "She is ours?" she said before she could halt her words. It was a stab in the heart, feeling uncertain and absent with the truth before her. Moving closer to the water with methodical steps, and folded her arms protectively. "Her name is Brooklyn?"
The questioned dragged across Steve's gaze and he slowly nodded, his arm shielding over their daughter. "It didn't take us long to chose her name. After we saw her for the time on the screen...You said it first." he said softly. "She is everything we are, Natasha. Your beauty and my strength." He clasped his lips into a thinned line, and held Brooklyn within the interlock of his arms. "She is ours..."
Brooklyn nuzzled her face into his chest, "I love my, Daddy." she whispered, and closed her eyes. Steve stroked his hand through her springy curls.
"I love you," He pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead, and one swipe of his left hand revealed a gleaming piece of platinum. A wedding ring.
Natasha felt herself standing back on solid ground, and looked down at her own hand, and saw a diamond ring. She curved her lips into a watery smile, and felt her heart dancing in her chest. "Steve..." She broke out in a sob that seemed to clog up her throat. "You're my partner?"
Natasha didn't wake up at first. She groaned and writhed the images of the dream away. The entanglement of covers rustled against her lithe frame. She was aware of the muted sunlight laving over her features. Quiet. Peaceful. A brush of warmth caressed over her skin, a hand splay across the planes of her stomach, and fingers moved with circular motion.
She swallowed and mashed her face into the pillow. Why did she dream? She always had nightmares. Not dreams. It was hard for her mind to get a grasp on the security enfolded around her. The taste of copper and iron still lingered in her throat. It would always rent inside her. There was no escape from that dark world of red. She breathed, and regathered her thoughts, fighting against the exhaustion.
"Steve," she whispered, feeling his muscled body pressed against her. A solid wall of soothing heat to fight against the aches in her womb. "What time..."
Her words failed as softness of his lips melted over the tender spots between her jaw and neck. Small ripples moved with the sensation of wet heat slipping and sliding down her jugular. She extended her arms over the pillowcase, feeling the smoothness of his broad jaw, the strength of his modern Adonis physique clutched underneath her grip. She shivered, heart thumping away the recurring dull ache in her chest.
Natasha tensed and felt her back arching against the mattress. Her scarlet ringlets fanned across the sheets and entanglement of blankets. She clenched her jaw and listened to the pace of breath ghosting from her lips.
"Nat," Steve whispered and fingers threaded her mussed red hair. "Is everything alright?" he prodded and his voice arrived croaky and laced with concern. A lazy smile hung from his lips. He looked at her. Concern became written across his face. He lifted his hand from under the pillow and his fingers roamed up her arm. "I heard you talking in your sleep. Did you have a bad dream or something?"
"I..." She swallowed, trying to act distant. "I wasn't dreaming. I never dream."
Steve smiled knowingly. "You can't lie to me, Natasha." he tone dipped into something gentle and imploring."Tell me about the dream."
Instantly, she fluttered her eyes open, squinting as light invaded her vision. An intense cooling penetrated deep within her. At first she felt that she devolved. She'd been on the brink of having a feverish meltdown of panic, but when his lips caressed over her shoulder, everything had froze. She just stared at him, taking in all the details of her baby's father. Dawn gleamed over his smooth features, his hair adorably ruffled and spiked, his eyes, ice and molten like blue fire emerging from the grayness of a raging storm. Their eyes met. His gaze changeless and imposing. It unnerved her. "I guess sometimes I do talk into sleep," she reluctantly, admitted, heaving out a dry sigh. The pressure in her womb was constricting. "Did you hear anything?" her voice still a tad raspy from sleep.
He rested his hand over the flat planes of her stomach, and then his stern gaze searched inside her eyes., his eyebrows knitted into a creased. "You did mentioned something about... Brooklyn?"
Feeling the empowering heat of his hard and carved muscles radiate through her body, Natasha grinned to herself. When the question intermixed with the waves of surreal peace between them, and she lifted her head off the pillow, and met his pursed lips with a fierce kiss. Her mouth sealed and melted into an embrace of compromising hunger over his lips. She kissed him hard, feverishly, desperate and refreshing. Her monochrome world faded into bright colors and she was writhing underneath as muffled noises erupted from their bodies. Tongues sloshed with rhythmic paces of breath and the slips and slides of their wet and slightly bruised lips created a jolt of electrically inside her core. She clenched her hands into fists, breathing heavy as her lips devoured his jawline line, she whispered the name of their growing child, her breath steady against his drenched skin while feeling the sheer pulse of contentment rip through her.
Brooklyn Rogers.
