Bruce is exhausted, his top unbuttoned from the night prior when he finally stumbles out of his office. There's a folded page in his hand when he spots a collected Natasha sitting on their kitchen island.
"Tasha?" He braves the kitchen.
She smirks to herself and scans her own page, Moon River playing in the background when she sips her coffee and slides the page in his direction, "I never realized your handwriting was so atrocious... or that you missed my 'delicious kisses'."
He sighs tiredly over not being able to recognize the letter and stands across from her to check his own page, "This one has that same, horrid, penmanship. Where are the girls hiding?"
Natasha huffs a knowing laugh and takes another sip of her coffee, "Maybe we owe them an explanation. They practically live here."
"I can send Lucy back to Jen. We're not in a uh, good place for hosting-."
"She needs this."
The physicist drops the page and moves to shut the music with a serious expression and bags underneath his eyes;
"Natasha, we need to talk."
She looks up. Her hair is neatly combed with her face full of a decent amount of makeup to hide her lack of color.
Romanoff shrugs casually with her knee crossed "About what."
"The possibility of finding a cure-."
"-We've already discussed it," her eyes stay low, fingertips brushing her napkin.
"Natasha... I swore to protect you, to keep you safe,' he takes her hand, his eyes wide as he begs and sits beside her, 'Please, please I'm begging you. If there's a chance we can save you-Let me fix this, please Natasha."
She licks her lip and swallows with her eyes still low. Her thumb rubs his warm hand in reply, "Bruce...I don't need saving."
"You're,' his eyes go red and glassy, 'What do you mean. Talk to me. Nat, please, please. I can't do this, I can't-."
His breath hitches, on the verge of a panic attack. His hands retracting from hers the minute he starts to add subtle pressure.
She reaches for his shoulder, "It's okay. Vrach , it's alright. I'm alright."
"You're not. You're not alright. And you'd rather die than let me try to help you."
"That's not true."
"Then what? What is it? Tasha, please!"
"It's nothing…"
"Nothing?...You lock me out of your mind, you shut me out emotionally- You don't, talk."
"I do talk. You just-."
"What? I just what? I don't listen? Is that it…?!"
"Yes!"
"I'm not going to listen to this! I know she could help you-."
"You don't know that. And you could hurt Izabella."
He shakes his head adamantly and stands to pace, "You know me better than that. I would never force that girl to do something she couldn't or that I haven't tested. Have a little faith in me, and a little faith in Izzy."
Natasha closes her eyes when he surrenders and moves around the apartment in search of the keys.
She holds her head and calls for him to come closer, "Bruce, let me fix your-."
"Don't! Touch me right now, you're making me mad-Sad- I can't-You hate every solution I bring to you, I'm really trying here, Natasha," he snaps and pulls away.
She shakes her head and looks up toward the light, "I don't like that solution, the one with her."
"With Betty… It's not even my Betty,' he emplores, 'Natasha, we're running out of options."
"…now she's YOUR Betty," natasha freezes in her position and clutches her coffee mug.
"Nat-"
"I don't-!- want to talk about this anymore. Please. I'm tired of fighting."
"Me too!"
"Fine!"
"Fine!"
"...I'm late for a meeting with a hematologist anyways."
Natasha hides her face in her hands once he leaves. A lump forms in the back of her throat and a knot in her stomach.
She reaches for her SHIELD communicator and tries to dial for Clint- sent straight to voicemail. Nick Fury is who she really wants to call, but he seems preoccupied.
Natasha lowers the device with a groan.
"Soooo, are you okay Aunt Nat?"
Romanoff looks up and mumbles a Russian swear under her breath when she sees the two girls cautiously tiptoeing into the living room.
"… zhizn' ebet meya, ugh,' she quickly follows with an apology for her young Russian speaking friend, ' Mne zhal' ."
Izabella blushes, "…it okay."
Lucy rolls her eyes and tugs at her long blue choppy bangs that typically swoop to the side, "…the letters didn't work…"
Amelia pokes Riley with a smile on her face;
"Riles, Lucy's on the phone with her mom AGAIN."
"So?," Riley pushes her with an elbow and reaches for her guitar.
"She talks about us."
The girl hits a chord, focusing intently on her finger placement, "Then stop making yourself something to talk about."
Amelia gasps, "I thought you hated her, because you can't read her mind-."
"Shut up!" Riley strums, her arm falling, "Who told you that?!"
"Um...Violet?"
"Hi friends,' Izabella waves with a smile and offers flyers, 'Steve say art at 11."
Riley adjusts her knee and repositions her fingers, "Yippee. I'll be with my guitar until 10:58. What happened to Natasha last night?"
Izabella lifts her shoulders and looks at her flyer with a wave, "She's fine. It nothing."
Riley lifts a shoulder over a memory, "She usually has a reason. It's never for long. You're just tense today-."
"Actually,' Lucy interrupts and jumps with a slide onto the nearby, 'What happened was; Alex! Yeah, goofball Alex, got his paw stuck in the carpet, right?! And he was howling like dogs do and all that and he's pawing and like, crying with a little whimper you know? So Aunt Nat got busy helping him and psh! You know, moms and their kids."
Riley holds her glare, "I don't actually."
"Rigghhttt! Oh! Sorry!"
"Stop talking now."
"Anyways! That's what happened."
Amelia panics, "Is Alex okay?! That poor sweet puppy!"
Riley scoffs, "She's lying! You idiot!"
Lucy waves her hand, "Alex is totes fine-Now! After that crisis which I am absolutely NOT lying about. So! Art at 11? When's archery, Sis-Cousin-Bestie?"
Izabella holds a grin and skims the page, "One, fifteen."
"Riley! We need a do over on the courtyard."
The other rolls her eyes, "We really don't. Now if you don't mind…I wanna be by myself. In my bubble. In silence."
Stark is shouting from the bottom of the staircase, breaking up the conversation. Izabella runs to the top of it over hearing her name being called.
Izabella makes it to the banister and waves, "Hi."
"Hi,' he smiles, 'Do you have a minute for us to have a little chit chat in the lab? Brucie sent me a list?"
Lucy follows behind as if she's automatically invited and Brody catches up soon after.
Stark lifts a finger, "It's! Actually! Just Izabella. This is confidential."
Brody narrows his focus and shoved his hands into his pockets;
"This feels like favoritism Mr. Stark. That's my sister and we go together."
Lucy nods, "Yeah! What he said."
Izabella tilts her head, "It okay. I be out in minute."
Brody lifts a finger, "No fair! Favoritism!"
"Favoritism? What favoritism,' Natasha seems to arrive just in time and pulls Izabella's shoulder, 'we have training planned, Izabella is with me for the hour-."
Tony glares, "Not according to my adjustment sheet."
"Let's go Izabella."
The girl pivots twice, unsure who to listen to until Natasha finally uses Russian to convey her thoughts. Izabella stands taller and follows with a hint of fear.
Stark shakes his head, tapping the banister, "Red?"
"I'm busy!"
"Let me know when Vi shows up," Riley slams her door shut now that all of her uninvited guests have left the room.
Romanoff groans and opens it to yell;
"Put your guitar down and grab your running shoes! If I have to ask you again…"
"Okay! Okay! I'm coming! Mamushka… "
"I'm not tolerating sass today so knock it off."
Steve looks concerned as he passes through, listening to Natasha yell and seeing Tony's tense expression;
"I'm sensing hostility…? I'm just wondering if we want that in front of the kids-."
The redhead forces a grin, her hazel green orbs wide with the threat of death;
"We're fine Steve. Talk to Tony, he's the traitor."
Stark defends himself incoherently, ready to fight with Natasha, "-Why are you mad at me?"
She throws a hand on her hip, "You know what you did. Ask your friend if you need a reminder."
"Contrary to what you might believe, I have a lot of friends-."
"The ignorant one."
"I have many ignorant friends-."
"You're an asshole."
Rogers gestures for a standard timeout, "The both of you need to breathe. We're not arguing in front of the kids-."
" Perestan' vesti sebya glupo !"
Both Riley and Izabella have mentally translated, looking at each other to ensure they've heard Natasha correctly.
Tony shakes his head with a nervous laugh, "I have no idea what you're saying!"
Steve lifts his hands, "Okay, we're all going to take a minute to breathe…Natasha, you need to calm down-."
Her volume raises, "You did NOT just tell me to calm down!"
"You're just freaking out," Tony crosses his arms.
"I'm disgusted by your moronic ideas and suggestions."
"Yeah, I'm gonna need specifics. I have a lot of those too!"
"Oh, I'm aware."
Antonia is uncomfortable once her dad starts to get defensive. Rattled, she quietly runs from him to Izabella. Lucy is pinching her lower lip, debating on intervening and Riley is trying to get a read on everything.
Clint enters with his eyes wide, the loudest of the bunch, "What the hell is going on? Garrett and I can hear you all arguing from the damn yard!"
Laura has her own eyes wide, waving down the kids currently huddled at the top of the staircase behind Natasha and Steve to lead them outside.
One by one the kids squeeze behind Natasha and move to meet Laura at the entryway.
Romanoff throws her hands up, disgusted over feeling 'cornered', "I'm done. I'm done with all of you. You can go figure out training. I'm sorry I even showed up today."
Steve tries, a hand over his head, "Hey, Natasha, we need to all talk this through. What is upsetting you-."
"Talk talk talk, all you men want to do is talk and come up with stupid ideas."
"Natasha!" Clint yells with concern.
"Tony is upsetting me! He got into Bruce's head-."
Bruce enters as Laura and the kids exit, immediately tense over the shouting. He tiptoes inside, hands in his pockets.
Natasha points, "And you... mudak!"
"Thanks. I see you're still in a great mood. Can you and I please go talk in private?"
" Bozhe moi! "
"Wait! Hold up! Is this about Betty?! That wasn't all my idea!," Tony finally remarks, connecting the dots.
Clint frowns, "…someone needs to fill me in."
Natasha is humiliated now that all eyes are on her. She crosses her arms and storms down the stairs, heading for the exit, "You can all go to hell."
"Where are you going," Bruce sighs, completely exasperated.
"To be alone! Don't follow me or I'll bring out your other half," Romanoff snaps and slams the door behind her.
Natasha is lining up her next dart for the board in front of her. She squints and nails a bullseye.
Her hand reaches for a black tumbler and takes a swig. It's irresponsible, yes, but she's technically done for the day.
Being alone at the tower's gym, she justifies doing what she wants. Alex is currently locked out...even her beloved pet is pissing her off at the moment in this new temperament turned full blown rage she's unaccustomed to.
When Natasha's next dart goes flying she has a thought to reach for the pistol on her hip- but that's going too far.
Then comes guilt.
She hops behind the bar for a refill. There's bruising on her arms now, for who knows what. Burst blood vessels on her covered thigh. She feels less than beautiful when she reaches for her next dart and flings it forward with a weaker swing. It's no wonder Bruce hasn't even tried to touch her as of late…
She takes another sip with a grimace.
When she was 13 in the Red Room, Madam B would taunt her with words. There was a quote well known and shared among the girls on a daily basis, 'Happiness comes with a price.' Anytime any of them were happy, it would be quickly ripped away. For one reason or another, the day would end in tears- immature, emotional tears. A sign of absolute weakness to them.
She's watched each of her friends suffer for finding their happiness, be it with themselves or with someone else. Attachments were forbidden. Love was forbidden. Friendships...forbidden. Happiness? Forbidden. A dangerous thing to find and impossible to hold onto.
It always ends in pain.
During her time with the man she loves, there have been ups and downs. She's lost him again and again but somehow they've always found their way back. And while she wouldn't trade a second, it feels as though her world is collapsing.
'Til we combust' rings in her ears. She's combusting herself. Attachments; It's what's caused her pain. From Izabella, from the job she loves, to Bruce- It's come back to bite her.
She sinks against the bar with her eyes closed tight and her head thrown back. She can't stand for too long.
Natasha is drained of all color minus the blush she put on. The liner on her eyes filling in for the absence of any lashes she's lost this past week. She tugs at the end of her braid- even her hair feels thinner.
With tension rising she feels a lump at the back of her throat and a pounding in her skull. She has a thought for the Hulk, wondering if this is how he feels on a regular basis...trapped. Boiling. Angry. Shoving everything inside until it absolutely needs to erupt in a volcanic explosion. There's not enough screaming or thrashing one can do to fully empty that feeling of pent up emotion, rage, love, sadness…loss.
The loss. The top assassin at SHIELD. The head spy. The one a couple of thousand people know. The one whose name makes them shake. She's a threat, but more than that, she's respected. There's a reverence when she walks into a room. Admired for her knowledge and skill...skill- what's left of it?
Her fingers roll the final two darts in her fist.
Probably for the first time in her life, she doesn't feel confident. Even during her darkest moments, Natasha could fake a smile. Drop a teasing comment and control a room full of men and women alike. Her body has always been a weapon, a shield, a perfect protection for every insecurity she holds inside. And now even it's betrayed her. Her scars have always made her self-conscious but bruises that won't fade? Bruises caused by slipping in her own apartment? For tripping over her own two feet?
Natasha stands and lines up for another throw.
She's weak. The muscles she's worked to tone are betraying her. Her stomach and high alcohol tolerance- betraying. Her mind she's worked so hard these past few years- with people who love her- who she's trusted, a mistake or not…betraying.
Natasha hurls the dart. She scoffs, her head down when she toys with the last one in her hand…
She eyes the image on her target.
Elizabeth. This foolish, beautiful genius of an intellect taunting Natasha with her perfect symmetrical features staring back at her on the flyer she's found. She's youthful, full of vigor. Full of life and optimism.
It's selfish. Jealous. Maybe a little immature...Natasha can't help herself. This woman died in her prime. Maybe it's the easy way out, when you have a legacy to leave behind.
Natasha tilts her head with her tongue on her cheek as she stares back at the woman who taunts her very being. She's not a jealous person...Something about Betty makes her stomach churn even more than the poison in her body.
Her lips quiver breathlessly, lost in her own thoughts. Betty could help these kids. She could nail Izabella's abilities and where they come from. Give her a cure if Izzy so desired it. Teach Riley, with love, about why she should open up her heart to feel. She would be the perfect aunt for Garrett, without judgement for any shot he didn't make. Heck, she could probably tame Lucy and give her something to work towards.
Betty was a whole woman who had the opportunity to make choices. A genius who went to college and decided her own fate. Who made a difference in the universe with her intellect. Someone who had a memory of a mother and who had a father- a flawed parent- but who at least tried.
For a brief moment in time Betty was a mom. She had a child... his child.
Betty was the first to touch the Hulk, the first to breach Bruce Banner's stubborn and battered heart. The woman who, no matter what, will always keep showing up first, and well, Natasha doesn't accept second place.
She scoffs with a cold soul and throws her last dart. There's only pain and a constant reminder of what she can never have; What she can never be. With the hate turned inward she breaks down behind the bar. Not with tears, but with a stoic expression and a lack of energy stemming from her core.