A/N: Hello! Hope you're all safe and well.
Here's a Christmas chapter in July!
2 December 2018
Do you know what I'm sick of, Tom?
Christmas songs.
Doesn't matter if they're carols or the pop hits, I don't want to hear them anymore.
Bah freaking humbug.
They've been on since the beginning of November. Wherever I go there's a sugary sweet Christmas track ready to give me a cavity. Over and over again until they're stuck in my head, so that even when there is no music playing the words are on an echoing loop in my mind, breaking through my concentration and intent on driving me to the edge.
Sometimes Steve walks down the corridor, humming this song or that. Every now and then I recognise the tune; he had a talent for mangling them - but not enough to stop the infection from spreading to Bruce.
Sometimes I miss the early days of our post-Snap world when we avoided each other.
Why am I writing about it today? What is the thing that has driven me to documenting my inner Grinch?
Tony's hacked my one refuge in this Christmas indulgent nightmare; my playlist. Crafted through years of careful curation. Ruined by a man with too much skill and not enough to keep him busy.
Just as I'm getting into my work and forgetting the plague of conveyer belt Christmas spirit, All I Want for Christmas is You pops up. When I think I've expunged that and all other unwanted songs I Wish it Could be Christmas Everyday makes an appearance. When I ask FRIDAY to put me through to him so I can spend the next twenty minutes telling him exactly what I'm going to do with every part of his body once I've hunted him down and dismembered him, I'm put on hold to the tune of Baby it's Cold Outside before I can say anything.
I don't want you for Christmas.
I certainly don't wish it was Christmas every day.
And yes, it is cold outside but Russia is colder.
Ugh, Steve's just walked past singing Deck the Halls. I'm going to the roof before I tell him to fa la la la la -uck off.
I dunno. Maybe Thanos did kill me and I'm stuck somewhere worse than hell.
4 December 2018
Video calls are the name of the game.
I think they're Pepper's new obsession.
She always preferred face-to-face meetings, not much of a fan of talking at a screen. But since Tony, Rhodey and I overcame her stubborn streak and insisted she start taking it easy she's started to work from home full-time.
Not just that.
She's turned her bed into her control centre and rarely changes out of her pyjamas into her work clothes. Tony says she's really taken our whole 'you need to relax' conversation to heart. I think it's because in the late stages of pregnancy comfort is a hard to come by luxury.
The same thing happened with Laura. There came a point when she found the days almost unbearable. The baby pressed against one organ or another, her back hurt all the time, any amount of heat made her life unhappier, and whenever she thought she might get some sleep the baby had other ideas.
Clint, always in awe of her, did what he could to make her feel comfortable but since it was half his fault she was in that position, he got his fair share of I hate yous.
With Tony taking care of most Stark Industries business, Pepper had more time to focus on the orphans. Our current problem; Christmas.
"I don't know," I said as we discussed the benefits of going over the top, despite both of us feeling it was insincere, "how did you celebrate Christmas growing up?"
Our biggest question was how do you make a family holiday special for children when family is the one thing they don't have. We'd spent a couple of months trying to answer this question and now we were in danger of not doing anything for them.
"Just like everyone else, I guess," she said before flicking her eyes to something off screen and frowning a little, "sorry, Tony's being Tony. Anyway, the thing I remember most was Christmas morning, not so much the opening of presents, though I did enjoy that, but it was having everyone gathered around the tree. I can't wait to share that with this little one, either."
She covered her stomach with her hands, looked down and smiled. Apparently it was the balm to whatever havoc Tony was wreaking. It was something she did more of the closer her due date loomed.
"Well, the least we can do is make sure they have something to open," I said, "they can do that together."
"I've thought about that but making sure every single child has something they like, that sounds like an impossible task."
"Not impossible when you have an exceptional profiler on your team."
"Are you sure? There are hundreds of kids just in America."
"Yeah, it'll be fine. Steve's pretty adept at it too, so I'll rope him in. And not all of the children will celebrate Christmas, we don't want to offend them by disregarding their upbringing."
"Okay, I'll leave that with you then. Thanks Nat."
"Is there anything else that stands out?" I asked, reluctant to delve deeper into the can of worms we'd opened.
"Err, not anything that would help now. What about you? Was it any different in Russia?"
"You could say that," I said, not really wanting to remind her but knowing I'd have to say something, "it was a non thing where I grew up."
"Oh crap, sorry Nat. I forgot."
Apart from Clint, Laura and Steve (oh and a brief conversation with Bruce at the farm), I'd never outright told anybody about the ins and outs of my childhood. There were some things I still preferred to keep to myself. I only shared what I did because I knew that they would never pass on the things I did tell them to another soul.
SHIELD was a different beast, though. I had to share stuff with Nick when I defected. It was part of the deal. But all he knew were the end results, the things I was capable of and the things I had done; but not the things that had got me there. Beyond what came out during my deprogramming he was clueless. Most of it made its onto my file. A file, I knew, Tony had hacked long before I dumped everything on the internet. It included the basics such as: grew up in a super secret spy training facility.
So, while I didn't talk about my past much beyond two Bartons and a Rogers, I knew fragments of information floated around the rest of the team and our various associates. I found I didn't mind. At least, not with Pepper.
"Don't worry about it."
"On the bright side, you have a better understanding than I do of what they're going through."
"Will your glass ever not be half full?"
"I'm serious. No family, stuck with children you didn't know. What did you want most when Christmas came round?"
I lapsed into silence as I thought about it. A prime opportunity Tony took advantage of as he caused another commotion Pepper's end. Hers was a difficult question to answer. From our very first days in the Red Room we were taught not to want anything other than to complete our missions and to serve our country in any way we could. Anything childlike was stripped away. What I do remember, though a lot of things aren't clear, is how alone I was. It wasn't something I focussed on often because when I did it was all encompassing.
Maybe the other girls felt that way but no one dared to show it. Girls were killed for less. We were surrounded by people at all times. The guards who were trained to discipline us, our trainers who believed suffering and pain were the best teachers, the other girls who were all trained to be ruthless with their kills. No one connected with anyone.
Well, almost no one.
Yelena swam into view without permission and rather than think about what I might have wanted I thought about what she definitely did. Really, I think it's what we all wanted in there; where to be kind was to be weak and compassion was a sin.
"A friend," I said. I didn't look at Pepper because while she was a badass in the boardroom, outside of it she wasn't always able to hide her true feelings. And pity didn't help anyone, whether it was seen or not. She waited a few seconds before answering.
"Maybe we should have focussed on that in the run up. Organised activities and events designed to bring them together. The biological family might be gone but that doesn't mean they can't make a surrogate one in the facility. This is mo- what is that noise?"
I laughed as she tried to see past me, confused by what was going on. Not that she'd see anything. The interruption was coming from the corridor.
"Oh, that's Steve. Singing. I think he swallowed a Christmas themed jukebox."
She laughed and pulled a face as the 'singing' continued.
"Poor you, I thought a cat was getting murdered."
"I'll murder him in a minute if he doesn't find the mute button. He's tiptoeing around trying to decorate the compound in secret. I think he thinks that just because I don't like the music I don't like Christmas. As if I'm not going to notice twinkling fairy lights turn up out of nowhere."
She laughed again and it came to an abrupt stop when a thought struck her. She brought her hand to her cheek and this time it was Steve who took advantage of the silence as his singing wafted in to fill it. "I don't think any of the facilities have decorated yet. We can have an organisation-wide decorating day. In the common areas and their own rooms. That way everyone gets a say and they can start to make it feel like home. It's not much but it's something. I really should have started planning this sooner. We'll talk about next Christmas in January."
"You don't run one of the most successful companies in the world for nothing," I said, sighing at the thought of more Christmas planning, then looked at the work waiting for me on my desktop and sighed again. With the anniversary in April, Christmas was the least of my worries. "How are you going to encourage everyone to take part? Decorating isn't high priority."
As soon as the words were out of my mouth I knew what she was going to say. Since we rescued those three girls in the city last month, there had been an increase in requests to have us visit the facilities. At first it was just the one they went to and when that became common knowledge, all of them joined in, turning a single voice into a deafening clamour.
I'd heard on the grapevine that Claire and her friends were telling anyone who would listen (which happened to be a lot of people) that they've met the Pepper Potts-Stark - you know, the one who runs this joint. And, due to popular demand, they've recounted their rescue over and over again. Each time the embellishments getting bigger.
I remember fighting off nine people. Five of them clueless, two of them not given a chance to get involved, one of them with just-above average skill. But my memory must be a little off. According to Claire I fought off fifty fully grown, armed and armoured men with nothing but my wits and fists.
I mean, not beyond the realms of possibility but definitely not what happened this time round.
So far, Pepper's refused any travel on the grounds of being heavily pregnant. I declined on the grounds of not wanting to go. Well, I said I was busy with running the Avengers, but the not wanting to was implied. A lot.
"Simple-" Pepper said, confirming my horror with a not so subtle smirk.
"Oh no. No. No," I said.
"We give them what they're asking for. We'll hold a competition, the facility with the best decorated common area gets a visit from us at some point next year. And I mean both of us. And the child with the best decorated room gets a tour of Stark HQ and the Avengers Compound with a plus one." She clapped her hands together and I heard Tony take up the applause.
"I don't know what we're clapping," he called from out of shot, "but well done ladies. Hey, Pep, you told Nat she's invited for Christmas?"
She sighed and levelled me with a no nonsense glare that no doubt had employees and competitors alike quivering in their seats.
"You heard the man, you're invited for Christmas. Please say you'll be here."
"No can do. For one thing, I hate you right now," I said and waited until her laugh faded away before getting serious, "and for another, I won't leave Steve alone."
"He's invited too."
"You know he won't go, and you know Tony won't say anything just because you invited him. Even then, there are no guarantees about how long he'll stay quiet."
"I wish those two would stop being so stubborn. they need to at least talk if they're going to work through this." There was a yelp from Pepper's end and she jerked back to see what was going on. "Sorry, Nat. Need to go before my husband finds a way to destroy our brand new house."
The screen went blank and I was left staring at a draft itinerary of the anniversary events. All suggestions from the world leaders were crass and exploitative. Both Okoye and Rhodey wanted something more genuine and so far our meetings were about as productive as the call with Pepper.
It was crammed full of this and that, speeches and readings and songs. Parading of military might, including the official entrance of the Avengers. A flyby of Wakandan crafts, followed by jets from various air forces around the world. Some even said they wanted Ironman and War Machine to join it.
I was going more for the route of less is more.
Just had to decide which empty gesture was going to pacify more of the world's populace than the other. All three of us were still hoping for a brainwave to give us the perfect thing.
Steve's solo progressed to a duet with Bruce and I think they intended to try and get me to join in, at least their voices were coming my way.
So I packed up my things and headed to the roof for some peace and quiet.
7 December 2018
Spoke to Valkyrie today.
We haven't heard from Thor since he spoke to Bruce.
She says he's okay.
Guess we have no choice but to believe her. Bruce trusts her, so that's enough for me.
We invited Thor back for Christmas, extended the invitation to Valkyrie, too. She said she didn't think they'd make it.
Bruce and Rhodey are going to spend Christmas at Tony's. It feels like an age since I last spoke to Rhodes properly.
Busy people with busy lives don't make for good socialisers.
Steve's still humming his way through the compound. I've never seen him get so much into the Christmas spirit. Something isn't right there.
12 December 2018
Fucker threw a snowball at me today.
It's like he's lost all survival instinct.
I tossed back a few choice words and waded through the snow towards the compound.
He called after me and then fucking threw another one. Damn him and his super serum accuracy.
It was grey outside, cloud dusted the sky and all light was filtered through it. Colour was muted wherever I looked, not that there was much colour in the depths of winter. In fact, the only brightness I saw was Steve's red Christmas jumper (which he was foolish for wearing, if he was going to start a snowball fight he could at least consider the need for camouflage). His cheeks were red, too. Under constant attack from the cold air; bitter and biting.
He was the only point of colour in the drab and dreary world and for a second I looked at the whiteness around me and considered digging in and building an arsenal of icy weapons. I thought about throwing and running and ducking and dodging and diving until we were exhausted. I wanted to do it because it was something.
Something different, something mind-numbing. Something easy.
But then laughter from the past bubbled up in the back of my head; bright and innocent and childlike.
Laughter that was silenced now.
The urge passed. The snow weighed down on my own grey mood even as it seemed to lift Steve's. Even the cold smell got my hackles up. I turned and continued my trudge to indoors, calling behind me.
"Better get inside before you wake up in another seventy years."
17 December 2018
It's early in the morning and dark outside.
Everything was still. Of course, as soon as I thought that my mind started to recite 'Twas the Night Before Christmas.
I haven't slept much this month. That dream of blood and ash keeps coming around. It's been so bad that whenever I head to bed I'm roaming around the compound again within a couple of hours. The last decent sleep I had was when I stormed the building in the city.
I used the extra hours to finish everything Wong sent me.
There were a lot more texts than I expected. None of them led to amazing revelations, but they gave me a better understanding of the stone, and understanding is the first step of anything.
I have no fucking clue how we're going to bring everyone back.
I look at the research I've done, at the progress Nebula and Rocket have made towards their destination, and I know there's so much more to do. And every time I do I see the vastness of the task.
The impossibility of it.
Day in and day out I sit at my desk and think how arrogant I am. I'm less than a drop in the ocean and I think I can make a difference in the outcome of the universe. Me and my guns are nothing in the face of threats and powers like Thanos and his endless army.
The others give me doubtful looks, sometimes flashes of sympathy and I understand why. I was throwing myself down a rabbit hole where I could easily lose my mind.
But someone has to make a difference. Someone had to be the one to get the ball rolling. So maybe it wasn't so arrogant of me. Maybe my research would inspire someone better equipped to change things for the good.
And I said that to myself every time I opened another document from Wong, every time I checked in with the space adventurers. All effort counts. Someone will find a way to fix things.
You never know what knowledge will unlock possibilities.
20 December 2018
I walked into a room of ghosts.
Not floating or swirling or doing whatever the hell ghosts are supposed to do. Just hanging there.
Wanda.
Sam.
Vision.
Bucky.
Nonchalant in the shadows of early morning.
Their stitched names yelled out. Conjured feelings and memories so close to breaking through my mental barriers.
I breathed in and it tasted of ash.
I closed my eyes and I saw them as they were.
Strong. Resilient. Good.
I opened them again and saw their white embroidered names on red cotton. Their home-sewn Christmas stockings, carefully attached to a shelf halfway up a bookcase, the only way they can be a part of the season.
I breathed out and it trembled. I trembled. And shook.
And then I didn't. I reigned it in. Pulled myself together. And walked out.
26 December 2018
A belated merry Christmas to you, Tom.
We didn't know what to do. Celebrate it? Ignore it?
We knew that none of the people missing from our lives would want us to put anything on hold just for them.
But, the thing is Tom, Steve and I don't tend to give a shit what other people think or even what they want us to do.
We go our own way. Always have done.
His abundance of Christmas cheer disappeared. I'm glad. Not because it means no more singing but because I think it was hurting him more than helping. He was avoiding his pain and he used the holidays as an excuse.
I caught him staring at the Christmas stockings he put up and even though I couldn't see his eyes I knew there was a storm raging in them. It was the set of his shoulders. The straightness of his back.
He'd come from the gym, not stopping to shower. Sweat stained his clothes. A sign of interrupted sleep. Or, if I stop being optimistic, no sleep at all.
I was going to tell him Santa wouldn't be happy with him staying up all night, but my heart wasn't in it and the words got stuck in my throat.
Instead, I made breakfast. Tempted him away with the smell of bacon. He wolfed down sandwich after sandwich, but my stomach churned at the greasy sight and I just about managed one. He cleared the dishes away and brought me a glass of orange juice.
And that was how we knew we weren't going to get through the day without each other. Spending it with Tony and Pepper held a certain appeal. Others would be there; noisy, hectic, a good distraction. We'd paper over the growing cracks with food and games. And though we all knew each other well, it wasn't well enough.
But with Steve it was. He knew more about me than he needed to. More than I ever intended to share, and I liked to think I knew him best, too. On a day like today we knew what each other needed.
A generous push towards realism with a hint of distraction. Denial was good, but when you settled in it for too long it festered around you.
"I just thought if I acted like I was okay I would be okay, you know," Steve said as he donned his hat, scarf and gloves. We both had winter worthy shoes on and wrapped up tight in warm coats. Even so, the blast of cold air found the breaks in our armour and assaulted us as best it could. Though it wasn't wise in choosing who it battled; Russian ice flowed through my veins no matter how many years I spent away from my homeland, and Steve had spent more time under ice than he had above it.
"You can't force something like that," I said and my words clouded the air. Little flurries settled onto the untouched blanket of snow around us. We took a moment to breathe in the crisp air. Winter had taken the flowers and the grass and the leaves, it had taken the songbirds singing in the trees and the bees buzzing as they sought nectar, it had taken the bright and sweet smells. But it gave back with the peculiar cold that was the essence and scent of the season. It gave us snow and ice and a gratitude to be indoors with people instead of out and away from them. Colour was leeched away but what remained was a purity the world didn't often see. And with Stark's green technology it lasted longer in the grounds of the compound than it did anywhere else.
We stepped off the path and made our mark on the snow-filled horizon, crunching our footprints into the unmarked land. A carrier bag rustled as it bounced against my leg, sometimes it caught in the breeze and made its wish to be flying free well known. Not only was it clamped firmly in my hand but it was weighed down by the items within.
"I know. It's just-" Steve said and heaved a sigh. The puff of air was whisked away by a sudden gust, as was some of the snow clinging to his hat. "Here alright?"
"Should be," I replied. "'It's just' what?"
He didn't answer right away, instead he crouched down and started rolling up the snow. Actions made clumsy by the thick gloves. He hissed when some of it fell from his hands and melted through his trousers to bite his leg with its coldness. I crouched to join him, discarding the bag then piling some snow on top of it as an afterthought to keep a particularly vicious breeze from tempting it away. Together we made better progress.
"It's just, I'm no use between missions. I'm just here, watching other people do things," he said as he bent down to collect more snow. That meant he missed my look. It's exactly how I felt when Rocket and Nebula were attacked. "I want to help but I don't know how."
"Well that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," I said and he looked hurt until I continued, "if there's one thing Steve Rogers knows it's how to help."
"That might have been the case before, but now I'm not so sure."
"I am. I bet you already know and that's not the problem."
We started on the second part and made sure to pack the snow tightly. I felt his hesitation but he wasn't one to walk away from the difficult questions.
"Then what is?"
"You're not sure you like the answer you found."
"And if that's true?" He said, intent on the task at hand.
"Take your time and think it through. You'll like it in the end."
He smiled but both of us decided to stay quiet as we added our second section to make one whole. There was a dicey moment when it looked like it was all about to crumble, or maybe the top was just going to roll off, but our American/Russian construction skills paid off.
"You make it sound so simple," he said and looked for the bag I'd brought with me.
"It's not, but it's also not as hard as you're making it."
We added the finishing touches and changed the subject; making jokes instead of heavy conversation. He went to the tree line to gather the last couple of things we needed and we stepped back to admire our handiwork.
It was rudimentary, even a little lopsided, but the snowman smiled back at us. While it was nowhere near as impressive as the ones created while they were with is, it wore Wanda's hat, Sam's gloves and Vision's scarf.
I think they'd be glad we made another addition to the team tradition.
I looped an arm around Steve's waist and he slipped one round mine, it gave me an excuse to rest my head against him as I tried not to break a little bit more.
"You don't have to go round singing songs and decorating the place to make yourself useful, Steve. You're useful without even trying. To everyone but yourself. Be kind to yourself, maybe. Give yourself a chance to heal before you try and move on."
"Everyone else is moving on, how come I'm holding back?"
"Steve, no one has. We're all coping, just about keeping it together. Don't start walking a road you're not ready to take. It'll just make things worse in the long run," I paused for a second, wondering where the hell I was picking those words up from. "Quick, say something deep and motivating. I'm not sure I like being the wise one."
"Come on, Nat, take a look at our ragtag band of friends. You've always been the wise one."