Natasha hadn't been to many weddings, so she wasn't able to give much evidence on how typical the layout before her was. She thought of some of those weddings on awful tv shows, a lot of them fit this layout with lines of chairs facing a white, willow - weaved arch. There were also a lot of things she presumed less typical, the grandeur of having a horse-drawn carriage to take guests around the grounds, the small fairground of rides and games for the children including a manned petting zoo. It was strangely tasteful, simple and almost had an innocent feel.

Natasha knew the bride was wearing white, she had seen pictures of the dress designs Pepper had Whatsapped to some of her friends - something that Natasha hadn't expected to be included in - and had felt touched to be, but then that could have been the hormones. She didn't know much about Tony's outfit but she had every faith he would dress well, he always did. More than Tony's clothes would make an impression on his appearance today. Tony was about to marry the woman that he had loved as long as she'd know him, and not only that but his month - old daughter would be there to see it happen. Natasha knew that he would be full of emotion, and not all of that emotion would be positive.

Steve gently brushed the sleeve of his suit jacket against her arm and Natasha realised she had been daydreaming while taking in the movie scene set in front of them. Steve was offering his arm, offering support that wasn't just based on the bad combo of swollen ankles and heels. It was a weird day, an attempt to shove the middle finger into the face of Thanos and prove that life would go on. People were missing, people who should have been here but who they had seen die five months earlier, she knew the Spider kid would be heavy on Tony's mind. She supposed the teenager hadn't left his thoughts, through all the change, through the good and bad. Today wouldn't change that.

Others were missing, Clint, Bruce, Thor. They hadn't heard anything from Clint, Natasha had tried several times, phone calls, emails, even turned up at the door of the little farmhouse half expecting and half hoping Clint would open the door and have a list of confused expressions spill from his mouth when he saw she was pregnant. There had been no sign of life at the farm, nor at several other frequented safe houses. He hadn't been reported among the vanished, he should be alive but his aloofness was a sign he needed a step back from the world. She believed he had gone into deep cover, hidden from humanity to organise his thoughts.

Thor, on the other hand, he and some of his people had settled in Norway, they presumed he was ruling there, helping Asgardian people to fit in on a new planet. He had RSVP'd but sent apologies that he wouldn't be there. Bruce had sent similar apologies, to begin with, he had stayed close to the scattered remains of the team with nowhere else to belong. Bruce had slowly spent less time with them, found volunteer roles in pioneering science that adapted to the new society then he was gone, living in a different part of the country and occasionally replying to their emails. Natasha didn't blame him for going out on his own, there was nothing to be done, and she didn't need to move from rubbing salt in the wound to rubbing acid as her pregnancy progressed. It was cruel, even if he knew the platonic nature of it all she knew Bruce wasn't able to separate the relationship from the baby as well as she could. He was moving on, Thor was moving on, Tony - well he had moved on the most.

As she took his arm Natasha met Steve's blue eyes. She saw it in his face too, the pain, the loss and the confusion that today brought them all. They were the ones that couldn't move on, whose lives were so fused with the Avengers team that the world could have stopped turning and they wouldn't have noticed. They were changing, they were the reason she had gained nearly thirty pounds in the last six months. They had made a new human being, a special human who was likely to be one in a million, and even though the world should have been getting better there was no way to make it right.

Early October 2018

"Ready?"

She wasn't, she never would be. There was something about courtrooms, something about legal settings which always made Natasha nervous, she wasn't sure whether it was a result of having fluidly lied many times in the witness box, knowing her life was on the line if she failed in her facade. Perhaps it was the opposite situation which made her nervous, the small number of times Natasha had found herself in a courtroom under her own name and telling her own story. More likely than either of these was the power of a court, the power that those involved in anything legal had to switch a situation on the words of a good lawyer, she hoped this was the best choice in the circumstances.

When she had asked Matt Murdock to the Avengers compound Natasha had given very little information, all he knew was that his law skills were needed by her and Steve. Despite being legally blind - although Matt's ability to sense things without sight had always been exceptional and totally incomprehensible - within second of coming into the main thoroughfare and meeting the ex he hadn't seen in many years Matt had seemed taken aback, before smiling and stating, 'Nat, you're pregnant.'

She had understood the confusion, Matt and she hadn't been more than a recurrent hook up when she had mentioned condoms were overkill and ended up cooling the moment to a conversation about her fertility, or lack thereof. He knew she couldn't be pregnant, but yet she was and here they were. Natasha had debated getting him involved, Matt had moved on, she had too and he didn't need to be drawn back into her hectic life. She could trust him, and that had been the deciding vote, she knew nothing would leave the compound, he was too good a person to sell the story.

Matt had been standing just behind her when he spoke, now holding out his arm for her to take. He may not have truly needed her assistance or his white cane but he preferred to keep the life of Matthew Murdock far removed from the one associated with the masked Daredevil, the world didn't know how his accident as a child had really affected him and that was something he hoped to hold on to.

'No, I'm not, but I don't have a choice. Let's go.'

Natasha had to take the stand, place her hand on the Bible and swear she would tell the truth, all the while eyeing up the legal team brought by the government. They shuffled through files, handing specific documents to the young man in his mid-twenties, blonde hair and freckles on his cheeks. He wore a well-tailored grey fleck three-piece and grey framed glasses. Her read on his behaviour showed the young lawyer to be quietly confident - she couldn't say what markers gave her that read, but her instincts were rarely wrong.

Her hands felt clammy, the whole room felt warm despite being large and filled with floor to ceiling glass windows. Keep it together, Romanoff.

'Ms. Romanoff,' The blonde guy looked her straight in the eye, thumbing the edge of the brown file in his hand, the file wore a SHIELD stamp in black and the recognisable red stamp saying Classified, a stamp that was branded on most of her information.

'I have here an assessment which was completed in 2007 by Dr Janiaczyk. At the time of this assessment Dr Janiaczyk was working as a high ranking psychologist for the former government agency, SHIELD.'

The guy shifted himself, turning to face the jury,

'This psychological assessment was the final in several in-depth assessments and reports on psychological therapy sessions which were conducted with Ms Romanoff following her defection to the United States of America.'

Again he turned,

'Ms. Romanoff, I believe you are well aware of the results of these assessments as well as their purpose.'

It was a question, an attempt to get an emotional response from her. They wanted to see shame, or perhaps they wanted defiance, either to prove the shame Natasha had of her past or to use the information as a way to prove her unstable.

' Yes, the assessments were to determine whether I was working as a double agent, whether they could rely on me.'

'And what, Ms Romanoff, did these official psychological assessments suggest, what diagnosis were you given?''

'Objection, Relevancy,'

'Overruled,'

The words passed quickly, Matt's objection coming in only seconds after the Government blonde guy had finished his question, and again only a second before the Judge with his large jutting chin and deep voice responded. There was no way they would have got away with that objection because Natasha knew the point blonde guy was working for.

Natasha swallowed, her mouth dry and tongue flailing like a grounded fish trying to propel itself back into the water.

'Dr. Janiaczyk commented that my assessments may indicate borderline Antisocial Personality Disorder, although this was not formally diagnose-,'

'Objection.' The words flew out of Blonde guy quick enough that Natasha's hand instinctively drew back to her side, looking for the weapon she had of course already had removed.

'Overruled.'

Blonde guy cleared his throat, he reached for another white page of paper, silent like a kicked puppy while he gathered himself to come back on the information.

'I have here, as has been supplied to the court, a copy of the official definition from the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders from the time of the assessment received by Ms Romanoff, for the aforementioned Antisocial Personality Disorder. It reads, Antisocial Personality Disorder is a diagnosis assigned to individuals who habitually and pervasively disregard or violate the rights and considerations of others without remorse. People with Antisocial Personality Disorder may be habitual criminals or engage in behaviour which would be grounds for criminal arrest and prosecution, or they may engage in behaviours which skirt the edges of the law, or manipulate and hurt others in non - criminal ways which are widely regarded as unethical, immoral, irresponsible, or in violation of social norms and expectations.'

Again the blonde guy returned the sheet of paper to his collection of documents and turned to speak directly to Natasha.

'Ms. Romanoff, during the time you have lived within the United States of America, have you engaged in behaviour which would be grounds for criminal arrest or prosecution?'

'Yes,'

'And in this frame of time have you engaged in behaviours to manipulate or hurt others, either at a criminal level or at a level regarded as morally and ethically wrong?'

'Yes.'

He gave a curt nod, once again turning to address the jury as though he was the lead in a great Shakespearean performance, working the crowd in his favour.

'Regardless of the lack of any official diagnosis of Antisocial Personality Disorder, it is clear that associated behaviours have been a part of Ms Romanoff's life, including her life within the United States. The defence for Ms Romanoff and Captain Rogers may have proven that this child, a child who has already begun to show superhuman strength -.'

'Objection, incorrect information - Earlier evidence which was given by Dr Rosenberg as an expert in obstetric medicine, explained the breaking of ribs as a relatively common effect of pregnancy.'

Matt was on the ball, she was glad of that, but Natasha knew he would be and that was why he fought for them.

'Sustained,' The booming voice of the Judge agreed. Blonde guy had to pause once more to reclaim his train of thoughts.

'The child is not to have parental contact with Ms Romanoff, as legal documentation attests, however, there is not sufficient evidence to show that Antisocial Personality traits can or cannot be passed through genetics. If this child is to be born with superhuman abilities and is to inherit traits such as a lack of morality and empathy, then it may provide higher risks than simply those associated with a high powered individual. Thank you,'

Blonde guy returned to his seat, slapping his file of paperwork down in front of him. Though the move was small, and his frustration not blatant to the untrained eye, Natasha could see the man knew he was clutching at strings - a bunch of balloons floating into the air and their strings too dispersed to catch any let alone them all.