Casualty #9 – Natasha Romanoff
Natasha Romanoff moved with the music, her body following the flowing pattern she remembered learning as a child. Each move remained precise and perfect while managing to look fresh and free. It was the beauty of ballet. Every motion of the body reached a certain point, angle, or pose without seeming to stress or fight. It remained a beautiful mask – the perfect analogy for Natasha herself, beautiful, demanding, and possessing a secret.
Ballet, like Natasha, required a core of steel if it was going to work properly.
She remembered meeting Darcy Lewis. The open-hearted girl-child intrigued Natasha. The spy could not remember ever being that trusting. Darcy breezed into the tower, giving away her smiles, her hugs, and her joy with abandon. Natasha withheld her inner self, hiding behind a mask until she felt safe enough to let someone behind it. It never came off. Darcy may or may not have noticed the mask, Natasha could not be quite sure, but she still reached out in an attempt to make friends. Most people shied away from Black Widow, but not Darcy. She would smile and hug and gently tease. The baby agents couldn't decide if the girl was gutsy or crazy.
Of course, Darcy was the girl who spent an hour talking to Hulk in the middle of Central Park. The point might be moot.
Natasha could still remember the moment she claimed Darcy as one of her own, putting her into the same category as Coulson and Clint. Everyone had been on edge after a particularly difficult mission. Natasha herself remained in the media room when everyone scattered for the night. Ten minutes later Darcy came stumbling back in, a pillow in her arms and Clint hovering nearby. "You two," she muttered. Instead of arguing, she just curled up in the large armchair. She stuffed the pillow under her head. "Okay," Darcy yawned, "try and get some rest instead of prowling the whole tower, okay?" Then she just…went to sleep. It still struck Natasha – Darcy let herself be vulnerable just to give Clint a little peace of mind and trusted Natasha enough to be helpless in the spy's presence. It had been a shocking moment of clarity.
Darcy didn't care about the red in Natasha's ledger because she didn't see the killer spy. Darcy only saw a friend in need.
The music stopped.
"Natasha."
She turned to find Coulson standing in her doorway. "Yes?"
"I would like to have everyone meet in the large family room, please."
"Very well," she nodded. "A discussion on how to correct our error?"
"Yes."
"Good," she replied decisively. "I shall be there momentarily."
He nodded and slipped back out of the room. Natasha glanced around. This room had been Darcy's idea, and Natasha remembered walking in on the discussion between the girl and Stark. When Natasha asked her about it, Darcy had replied, "Everyone deserves their own space."
Natasha's face grew set. They had driven Darcy away, and they would fix this if she had to personally kick all of their asses.