"Natasha?" Maria asked, nudging at the door, which was ajar. Natasha sat inside at a table, silently polishing something inside a cloth. Maria couldn't exactly manoeuvre around with two babies in her arms, so she had borrowed one of the mail trolleys from the boys downstairs. The babies fit snug inside and had fallen asleep long before Maria had even begun to look for Natasha. Their eyes were closed and their fingers were wrapped tight around themselves, their small arms curled.
"Maria." Natasha said, and placed the cloth and object on the table. Maria saw a handle, and a shine from a corner that had become uncovered.
"Natasha," Maria said as Natasha checked on the babies, and Natasha nodded. She was polishing a knife – one from the set she carried on missions. Small ones, deadly and something she's known to use like an extra limb.
"You're not going back, are you?" Maria asked.
Natasha shook her head and smiled – she meant it. "I was just thinking. Thinking about a thing, that's all." She said as she steered the trolley to sit next to her by the table, and she sat back down.
"What's wrong?" Maria said, not moving from her spot to leave.
"It's nothing." Natasha said, picking up the knife again. Maria was still for a second, but then she decided and took a seat opposite Natasha.
"No, Natasha, what's wrong?"
Natasha's expression as unreadable, but her tone was. "It's nothing." That you need to know about.
But Maria had grown attached to the babies, and even more to the mothers, especially during the pregnancy. She felt as if she was responsible now – both the fathers were heroes, basically. They couldn't always be there for the babies, or the mothers, and she felt responsible now, on some levels, as Aunty Maria.
"Please Nat, just tell me what's going on. Maybe I can help?"
Natasha chuckled sadly. "You can't help, Maria. And the only person who can is dead."
Maria stiffened at the last word. "So there is something. Who's dead?"
"I'd prefer to keep this business private, Maria, if you don't mind." She wasn't angry, but she wasn't budging either. Natasha Romanoff wasn't going to just give in so easily.
"Nat, please. You're a mother now, you can't keep it all inside anymore."
"You watch me."
"I will, Nat. Because you have babies now, Nat. Children. You're experiencing more love than you've ever felt before for any other thing ever in your life, and it's no longer possible for you to retain all that worry and pain and not have it destroy you." At this Natasha's eyes darted up to meet Maria's. "Please Nat, just tell me what's going on?"
Natasha held the eye contact after Maria had stopped speaking, and she held it, and held it. Maria didn't yield either, because she knew the worst was over, and Natasha would understand.
Moving only her lips, Natasha finally decided to rely on someone who wasn't Clint.
"Clint's asked me to marry him."
Maria had an internal struggle – she wanted to be happy, but she could tell this wasn't the case. "And?"
"There was someone else before me, and he picked me." Natasha said.
Maria frowned. "I think I'm a little lost."
"There was someone else before me, and he picked me. Because he loved me. Because he loved me more."
Maria hesitated slightly. " … He didn't … ?" She let the words cheat on you fade into context. She knew if this were the case, if she said those words out loud, it might just be enough motivation for Natasha to find Clint and break every bone in his body and cripple him for life in the most possible way she knew how. Which was probably a lot.
"Cheat on me? No." Natasha said. "There was another agent before me, a woman. We were both up for transfer to a new life with S.H.I.E.L.D. He picked me. Because he loved me."
"But," Maria was confused again. "Isn't that good?"
"She died. Because he loved me. That kind of sacrifice can't happen again." Natasha now finally understood what had happened when Clint had told her about Senja – why she couldn't be comfortable with that fact; the fact that someone had died because Clint had loved her more. "We have children, and if the opportunity came that there was threat – if he was still in love with me like that, if he still allowed himself to make decisions like that – there's a chance he'll choose to save me over them." Natasha said. "And I can't let that happen."
"Oh Nat, that won't happen." Maria said, relieved. She had thought something darker and more dangerous was playing at hand, given the way Natasha was polishing that knife, and how pale Clint was when she took the babies in a few hours ago. "They're a part of him too, just as much as they are you. He loves them just as much as he loves you, as much as you love them, maybe even more. He's not going to sacrifice himself for anyone, okay? That opportunity is never going to arise, and you don't need to worry about it." Maria said.
Natasha didn't say anything, she just let one of her hands dangle over the edge of the trolley because Elsa had woken up, with her curious blue eyes watching her mum, and she was playing with Natasha's fingers. Natasha smiled.
"Let's hope so."