Natasha Romanoff tended not to weep over many things. She was Russian after all. Yet, just because she didn't weep, didn't mean she wasn't emotionless. She felt things. Like joy and happiness, loss and sadness, betrayal and anger. Maybe she just didn't outwardly show it the same way others did. She was trained not to after all.
Her training in the Red Room had prepared her for many things - especially how to deal with the sudden loss of someone you loved. A simple how to, really: don't love. People, places, things, even herself, all of that was temporary. All that mattered was successfully completing the mission.
As time went on, she stayed true to her trainings in the Red Room, until she couldn't any longer. Until Barton showed up, until SHIELD, until the Battle of New York...each time a bit more of her training being chipped away. Her skills were still intact, that physical training would never fade, but the messages and common themes of the Red Room and the KGB were being replaced with her own personal mantras instead. Almost like she was becoming a bit more human.
And allowing herself to love again. Platonically at first with people such as Clint and Steve, familial second with the Avengers themselves, then surprisingly, romantically. With someone she never thought would catch her off guard in that way. But he did. He treated her unlike anyone else who had treated her before, uncaring about who she was or what she did. All she was to him was an annoyance, just like everyone else.
At first, the way he acted toward her startled her. She immediately thought he was holding some sort of personal grudge. That she had done something to him or someone he loved without knowing it - she did a lot of shady things when she was in the KGB after all. Then she realized that, no, that's just how he acted with everyone. It was funny; most people feared her or kept their distance or hesitated when telling her she was doing something wrong. Not him. He couldn't care less about the supposed happenings if he were to talk back to her or get in her space. A welcome change.
Romantic love had never been on her mind when it came to him. Mostly because she was certain that, based on how he interacted with even his closest friend, he was incapable of the emotion just as she was. Though both found out that was a lie - maybe just a little too late.
"Where are you going?" Natasha asked, keeping her voice level, but still curious. He shrugged, his back to her, refusing to let her see his face. A smart move, but also a stupid giveaway that he was hiding something.
"Just on a trip." he responded casually, vaguely, "Need to get away from the city for a bit. Away from all these superheroes." he gestured around the room as if the superheroes he was referring to were standing with them in the bedroom, not scattered around the Tower.
"Let me come with you." she offered, "God knows I need to get out of here too." It was true. Even despite being with the Avengers now, she had burned up all her previous identities with the SHIELD leak. There was no running away anymore, relying on old names and lives. But maybe she could. Maybe she could make a new life. Maybe with him.
"No, no, you…" he trailed off, turning - finally, to go to the dresser to swipe off a few things: wallet, phone, keys, a USB port, "You have the Avengers stuff, remember?" he quickly glanced to her. She shrugged, tossing her hair over her shoulder,
"They don't need me as much as they need some of the others." she kept her voice light, but she thought it to be true. She didn't have super strength or could summon the power of lightening or even turn green when she got angry. She was just a spy for God's sake.
"You know that's not true." he fixed her with a serious look before shaking his head, "Listen, Nat, it's fine. You don't have to come with me or -"
"But I want to." she cut in, stepping more into his bedroom. He froze, only motion coming from where his fingers were sliding against the USB port, opening and closing the device.
"I gotta go." he finally settled on, turning away from her once again to throw the rest of the items in his duffel before zipping it up.
"You still haven't told me where." she pointed out and he let out a sigh,
"It doesn't matter. You don't need to know." he picked up the bag and swung it onto his shoulder. Suddenly it felt a lot more serious than him just going on a weekend getaway.
"Dawson, where are you going?" she asked him again, voice hardening. He turned, hands settling on his hips as he faced her,
"Away." he raised his eyebrows, rolling forward on his toes a bit, "I don't understand why that's so hard for you to understand."
"Because it's completely out of the blue." she wanted to yell, so badly, but kept her voice even, knowing how he would react if she started to yell. She knew he was holding something from her and with enough annoyance, it would come out. It had to.
Instead of answering, he just scoffed and shook his head, walking past her and out of the bedroom. She could've stopped him with a hand on his arm, but chose to let him by.
"I'm allowed to keep secrets from you, Nat." he said as he crossed through the floor, "God knows you've kept enough from me." the last part of his sentence was mumbled, but she still heard it.
"My secrets are secrets to protect you." she defended herself while following him through the floor.
"And you think mine aren't?" he asked with a raise of his eyebrow. She made a face, eyebrows raising and eyes widening slightly.
"I don't see how the secret of you illegally downloading porn could hurt me the same way my KGB past could." she compared the two sarcastically. His gaze hardened and he let out a slight scoff.
"Fuck you, Nat." he spat out, shifting the position of his duffel on his shoulder, "I'm late." he was angry now, and hurt. Good. Maybe he could understand why she was too.
"So that's it?" she got him to heave an annoyed sigh, "You're just gonna leave without giving me any more information?"
"Uh, yeah, pretty much." he laughed a little, but no part of this conversation was funny.
"I'll find you, you know." she didn't mean for it to come out as a threat, but it did. And he surely took it as one; his features set and his jaw clenched, the grip on his duffel becoming tighter.
"I'd like to see you try." he spoke lowly, in a tone that reminded her that he could be dangerous if he so chose to be. Maybe not with fists and guns, but with knowledge and the ability to ruin lives with a simple click of his mouse.
They stood there, in a tense silence, for a few moments more until he grabbed his jacket from the couch. He walked away from her, not saying another word, and headed straight for the door. Suddenly, she realized this could very well be the last time she saw him and a huge part of her didn't want that to happen.
"What about us?" she cringed inwardly as soon as the question fell out of her mouth. Never had she asked such a stupidly vapid question before or even felt the need to. She wasn't one to be begging for people to stay, rather wanting them gone if they wanted to be gone. But something inside of her wanted to get him to stay for as long as he possibly could. Damn him and his ability to make her experience things she never felt before.
"Was there ever really an us, Natasha?" he asked, getting the final word before slamming the door shut behind him.
It took a second, but then there was a slight wetness on her face. And she realized she had been crying.
Oh, how she longed for the days where emotions were just another distraction. A distraction that could be easily beaten or filtered out of her as they did in the Red Room. Or just another tool to use to her advantage in order to get the information from her mark without lifting a single finger. Not something that consumed her for months, forcing her to live with them and learn how to deal with them as a normal person did. It made her feel weak. She understood why the Mistresses were so insistent on using emotions as a leveraging tool in others, but not to become subjected to them themselves. Someone could be easily taken advantage of when feeling like they had all the cards in their hand, or a bit too angry to think straight, or even upset over a loss.
Though, like most difficult things she was faced with in her life, Natasha figured her way through it. Learned how to let herself feel so she could assess her weak points and learn how to properly handle them so no one would know or be able to catch her off guard. Thankfully, she was able to do with someone she trusted, who was going through a similar thing.
"You seem to be handling this a lot better than me." Steve sighed out before taking a sip of his beer. It had been a few days since the pair had left with no regard to the others. Steve had showed up at Natasha's door, looking like he hadn't slept in days - and frankly neither had she. He explained what happened, what he had been doing and how he had tried everything: calling, texting, having JARVIS look for her, but nothing was working. And did she know of anything? Why wasn't Dawson worried either? Also where was Dawson?
Before realizing their significant (now apparently ex) others left with each other, both believed they had been deserted for some unknown reason. Left alone to deal with their demons without the people who had helped them quiet them a bit more.
Discovering that both of them left at the same time brought little comfort, seeing as they both lost someone they loved. But the reason of their leaving was still unknown. Natasha didn't know if she should take solace in knowing that Dawson was with someone he trusted or be angry at Suit for convincing him to leave with her.
"Trust me, this is a lot harder than I thought it would be." she responded while picking at the label of her beer bottle. Something to focus on so she wouldn't have to look at Steve's sad puppy dog expression.
"At least you got a goodbye. All I got was a fucking letter." he scoffed, trying to seem angry when Natasha knew he was just sad. Hell, she was too, but chose to be calm and collected rather than angry and explosive.
As he spoke, he gestured to where he had thrown the pages of Suit's carefully written goodbye letter onto the coffee table. Natasha had read it, seeing how much Suit obviously loved him and was upset to be leaving, but still had to. Dawson just seemed ready to go, without any concern of what would be left of the two of them.
"It wasn't much of a goodbye." she shook her head, remembering their last conversation. How desperate she was to make him stay. God, it was pathetic.
"Well, then, at least you got to see him one last time." he tried to put a positive spin on it. Ever the optimist. Yet, somehow also being a self-pessimist; pointing out that she had gotten to see and talk to Dawson one last time while he was left coming home to an empty bedroom and no sign of Suit.
Like she was the lucky one in this situation. If there could be considered such a thing.
Time passed, different things became more important, and she started focusing on the present, rather than the past. There were good days and bad days, which was how life would always be. She started to feel like herself again, but also not. Not the girl she was in the Red Room, certainly not the woman of the KGB, but someone else. Someone she was supposed to be - wanted to be.
There were small reminders of the one she loved here and there, reminding her that she had been able to have it once and maybe would again some other day. And maybe again with him. Though she didn't have quite as tight a hold on that hope as she did others; it was clear he wasn't coming back so why waste her time?
But when Steve showed her the footage of Suit strapped to the chair in the Hydra facility, the emotions were met with something else that was new for her - sympathy. She wasn't a sympathetic person. Again, she was Russian. Yet there she was, sympathetic for Steve for having to deal with knowing exactly what Suit had been going through since she disappeared. And then also, surprisingly, feeling sympathetic for Suit as well. She knew exactly what it was like to be strapped down into one of those chairs and have both your body and mind be bent and twisted to what those wanted it to be.
At least he knew she was alive. Most didn't get that. Left to wonder what happened to their loved ones who just mysteriously disappeared and were never heard from again. Natasha briefly thought about if there was anyone who thought about her when she was adopted into the Red Room. Anyone who looked for her. Probably not.
Suit was one of the lucky ones too. Most didn't even survive being held in Hydra's grasp. Natasha always knew she was a strong one. Could tell from the moment they met - despite how she looked like nothing more but another bland SHIELD analyst. She could tell Suit had been through some shit, needed to get out of a few choice situations that could've ended badly for her if not. How much Hydra's torture had broken her down? Reduced her to nothing and then built her back in their image? How successful were they in doing whatever they intended to her?
Both Steve and Natasha had kept to themselves since getting back from Sokovia. Dealing with what they had found beside the scepter itself. Steve was probably filling journal pages with entries upon entries of all the things he was feeling, while Natasha chose a different way to work through her emotions. Those toward the men who strapped Suit into that chair, the ones attached to Steve's heartbreak, and of course, the ones still hanging on to hers.
And she found there were a few new emotions she was feeling toward Dawson. First and foremost, anger; whatever little adventure he tagged along with Suit had ended with her being tortured and hurt while he was nowhere to be found. If she was his best friend, he never should've allowed it to happen. But then came the worry. He was nowhere to be found in the footage or any of the files she had downloaded from JARVIS' main copy, nor did Steve mention anything about him either. Suit and he could've gone their separate ways without Natasha knowing a goddamn thing. If that were true, then he should've come back - fight and argument be damned. So why didn't he?
Spotting as she continued her chaînés turns diagonally across the floor, she made sure her posture was tight and her arms were level. Mistress' voice echoed in her head as she crossed the floor: remember your plum line! Her pointe shoes made little noise for how heavy the toe was, a testament to her control and grace.
The room she was working in was the most basic dance studio she had ever been in. Far be it from the massive, grand room that she trained in with the other girls. And she was completely alone. JARVIS was tasked with making sure no one disturbed her for the length of time she was there. So it was just her and the soft classical music playing from the speakers to keep her on beat. A chance for her to work on both her form, and deal with the mess inside her head.
While she did enjoy punching things and going down to the shooting range to exert some frustrations, she found that turning to pointe had something a little more calming to it. Despite how it was used as a cornerstone to all of her training in the Red Room. Stretching out her limbs on the floor helped her settle her mind, as most found with yoga or meditation. Working at the barre through the warmups that had been drilled into her head more than any language or basic history fact: small prances, delicate pliés through the her positions, then repeating with relevés, arabesques and the arm motions that went with it, before advancing on to the more difficult parts of the barre exercises - tendus in fifth and fourth position, echappés, pas de cheval to sous sous, fondu, and echappés facing the barre. Turning to the center and letting her body decide what it wanted to do next was a nice sense of freedom she didn't have in classes with her Mistress. She didn't need to focus on her battements being swift and direct as if there was someone standing in front of her. Her jetés were more relaxed, not so much focusing on the ballon portion of it, but just the general feeling of being suspended in the air for a few moments.
Being in the dance studio without her Mistress or any of the other girls watching, critiquing and looking for any sign of weakness, allowed her to be Natasha Romanoff. Not any of the other names or personas she had gone by over the years. The one that made her feel closest to being a real person. Not a Black Widow or a KGB associate or even a SHIELD agent. Just Natasha.
When she was thoroughly coated in a slick cover of sweat, she decided to call it a day. She had been in the studio for hours. A good ache reverberated from her toes to the back of her neck. Something she relished in and couldn't wait to relieve with a cold shower. That and a nice meal were two of the most important things on her to-do list.
Though before she did any of that, another thing slid into the first place spot and took over her short to-do list. She made a pit stop on her way to the elevators to check in on Clint. Dr. Cho had used her advanced findings on human tissue to patch up and heal Clint's injury that he unluckily got during the take down of the Hydra facility. While the process took all of eight hours, he was still kept under observation since they had gotten back to the Tower. Just to make sure none of the cells mutated and attacked his central system.
"Where are you going?" she asked in greeting when she stepped into his room. Clint turned to glance over her shoulder at her while shrugging into his jacket.
"I've been released." he shifted in the jacket so it fell a bit more comfortably, "Freedom. Just in time for the party." Right, the party. The one scheduled for later that evening to celebrate their success in retrieving the scepter since losing it in 2012.
"Guess we have more than one thing to celebrate." she gave him a wry grin before turning away. His reminder was the nudge she needed so she would hurry up and get through the other two things she wanted to do and still have enough time to make it to Tony's party without being chastised for being late.
Not that it mattered in the end. No one even glanced her way when she walked in. The common area was already filled with people milling around with the rest of the Avengers. Music was playing, drinks were flowing, and everyone was having a fantastic time - just like any other party Tony Stark threw.
Surprisingly, Rhodey was the first one to greet her and get her a drink. Since the last time she saw him, he had officially become War Machine, taking part in several missions for the United States Armed Forces. But instead of discussing his missions, the two ended up laughing about the last time both of them had been at a party thrown by Tony Stark. A birthday party that ended with a literal bang.
Hopefully, this one wouldn't be as dramatic as the last one.
A/N: A bit of a short, filler chapter I know and I'm sorry for, but it didn't feel right just jumping into the party or having the full party/Ultron attack attached to this chapter as well. I'll be honest, I was/am super nervous about this chapter and writing in Nat's POV cause she is very complex so I hope I did her justice. Please let me know all of your thoughts, concerns, comments, etc. I really love all of your reviews! And thank you so much for fave/following and reading along. Love you all!