There Was A Little Girl, Chapter 6- Alive, But Yet To Live (Clint Barton You Idiot I)
'Cause I'm half sick of shadows
I want to see the sky
Everyone else can watch as the sun goes down
So why can't I
'Cause I don't think I can face another night
Where I'm half sick of shadows
And I can't see the sky
Everyone else can watch as the tide comes in
So why can't I
'Cause I know I'm the cursed one
I know I'm meant to die
Everyone else can watch as their dreams untie
So why can't I
- Shalott, Emilie Autumn
She remembers the day she found herself.
It was in the evening, in the light of a setting sun.
One moment, she was crouching over the ledge of an abandoned building's rooftop, gathering the information she would need to catch her target off guard. The next moment, she had an arrow whizzing past her, barely missing her cheek.
She hadn't seen anything when she whipped her face around to scan her surroundings, but before she knew it, another arrow flew towards her. She had barely enough time to dodge the second arrow when a third, a fourth, and a fifth arrow came flying in her direction.
Sensing the imminent danger she would be in if she continued to remain on the open roof, she flipped herself over the edge of the building that, thankfully, stood at only two stories tall. She'd barely steadied herself after the near perfect landing when she heard the heavy landing of another pair of legs.
She took off, the wind blowing past her as she ran as fast as her legs could carry her. As she avoided the arrows that seemingly came from nowhere, she tore through alleys and in between buildings, hoping to shake the unseen attacker off.
Her heart thumped wildly.
This wasn't supposed to happen. She had always been careful, she had made sure to leave no traces, no one could possibly know enough about her to be able to hunt her down.
But this unseen archer obviously did.
An arrow tore through the side of her calf, causing a searing pain to shoot up her leg.
She continued running.
My name is Natalia Alianovna Romanova, and I am the Black Widow. I've been through worse. This measly arrow can't bring me down.
She clutched at her thigh, willing herself to go on, but she felt herself slowing down.
Another shock of pain coursed through her body. This time, an arrow had lodged itself in her back, just below her right shoulder.
She bit down on the side of her mouth, not wanting to give her attacker any satisfaction of hearing her cry out in pain.
She turned another corner, looking over her bleeding shoulder to see if the attacker had followed, but failed.
Exasperation and desperation ran through her veins.
An arrow landed almost directly in front of her, barely missing her feet.
She immediately switched her course and ran into a dark alley, thinking that since her attacker was shooting from a distance, it would be likely that he'd lose sight of her in the darkness.
Of course, it hadn't occurred to her that while the alley would shelter her with darkness, it would trap her within the very walls that blocked out the light.
She skidded to a stop, cursing inwardly as she finally caught sight of the high wall before her, cutting off any possible routes of escape.
The archer's arrows had purposefully led her here, and she had been stupid enough to not suspect a thing.
Gritting her teeth, she reached behind her and pulled out the arrow that had previously hit her.
Yet again, she mentally kicked herself for being over powered by mere medieval weapons.
Her breathing came fast as she threw the arrow onto the ground, attempting to shift her body into a defensive stance but only to wince at the pain pulsing through her leg and her back.
That was when the figure entered the alley, holding up a bow and arrow and aiming it directly at her.
I must say, you are pretty impressive.
The voice belonged to a man, and her eyes strained in the darkness to take in face behind the bow. She could hear it in his accent, he was American.
I've been observing you for a while now, and you amaze me every single time.
She could see his face clearer now, as he stepped into the dark as well.
You've killed so many, but it took us a long time to find you, you know that?
He had a faint stubble along his jaw line and his hair was brown, the color the earth.
I was sent to kill you.
Once again, her instincts kicked in. She lunged forward, swinging her arm out but the injury in her back strained, causing her arm to miss the man pathetically. He kicked her back against the wall, still keeping the arrow trained on between her green wild eyes.
You've been injured by my arrows, you can't fight anymore.
This time, the arrow was inches from her face, and his was hovering just closely behind it and his bow.
You've lost.
She'd expected anger to course through her veins at the mocking words, but as they rang through her ears, she realized the truth in his words.
She'd lost.
She hadn't yet lost her life, but she'd already lost.
She'd lost her parents.
She'd lost herself.
She'd lost…
She frowns.
She doesn't even remember what else she had lost.
But yet, she felt it.
The huge gaping hole within her where everything she was used to be.
I've lost.
Her voice was barely a whisper, shaking.
She looked down at her hands as she slowly unfurled them.
Her hands that were stained with her own blood from her injuries.
Her hands that had spilled much more blood that what was before her very eyes then.
Her hands, they looked so…
Small, childlike.
How old was she again?
Sixteen.
Barely an adult, just a teenager.
I've lost, ever since she died, ever since Natalia Alianovna Romanova died.
The moisture was gathering at the corners of her eyes now.
I don't deserve this. I don't deserve to live anymore, not like this, I don't want to. Please, end it.
She slowly shut her eyes then, bracing herself for the sting of the arrow, for the last breath she would ever take in her life. She wasn't even sure if she had even lived.
She could feel the tear rolling down her cheek, the tear that contained all that she felt at that moment. Guilt, regret, sorrow, resignation and, perhaps most of all, relief.
She was calm now, her breathing no longer shaky and fast, but deep and controlled.
She never thought that she would be ready for it, but there she was, ready to complete whatever the Red Room had started.
Years ago, there had been a murder.
The kind of murder where nobody dies.
The murder of the little red haired girl with the pigtails and yellow ribbons.
Here in the dark alley, faced with death, is where her body lies, but she's not inside.
She draws in another deep breath, and her forehead smooths itself again as the frowns disappear.
My name is Natalia Alianovna Romanova. I've lost, and I am ready to end it all.
Yet the pain never came, the bright light that people had said would appear before her never came.
Is it over? Maybe she'd gone to hell instead. That was highly possible too.
She could feel the corner of her lips turning upwards. It didn't matter if she was in hell or heaven. She was free now.
No.
What? Her eyes shot open.
You don't have to live like that. You have a choice, you know.
The bow and arrow were lowered now, and every bone in her body was telling her to either fight back or to make her escape then. She was the Black Widow after all, and she had the honour of Mother Russia to fight for.
But then, she looked into the eyes of the man with the bow and arrow, the man who had held her life and the power to end it in his hands, but had chosen not to.
He had blue eyes.
Eyes so blue, as blue as…
She slowly lifted her hand to her neck and pulled out Mama's ring, clutching it to her chest over the tiny pocket she kept the torn photo of Papa and Mama in.
Sapphire blue.
As she continued to look into the stranger's eyes, she felt it. The few memories she had left of Mama, Papa and the little girl with the pigtails came rushing back to her, the few memories that the Red Room hadn't ripped away from her with such cruelty.
Come with me, join us, you could live.
She cocked her head in curiosity. Live?
You could start anew, be the person you want to be, make your own choices.
She blinked, considering his words, slowly making sense of what the man with the sapphire blue eyes was saying.
You could be free.
Her head started to spin. She hadn't notice the continuous flow of blood from both her injuries, and it was starting to take a toll on her body.
I could be free, her voice was almost too low, but she knew the archer who held his face mere centimeters from hers would hear her, from what? And for what?
Black spots were appearing in her vision, and she could feel her grip on Mama's ring loosening.
Hey, stay awake for me, the man's voice was getting louder as he frantically attempted to shake the consciousness into her. Hey!
Answer me. She almost couldn't recognize the voice that sounded so tiny.
But the man hadn't heard her, and was instead shooting off rapidly into the device in his ear.
Coulson, get the medics ready, NOW… No, no, I'm not hurt, I'm bringing her in, she'd lost a lot of blood… Yes I'm bringing her in… No, you don't understand, I know what it was like when you first got to me, I think she needs this too, she needs us… I don't care, I'm bringing the girl in.
She'd realized in her weary state that this man before her had fought for her, but before she could ask the man about the many unanswered questions, she felt the light fading away.
My name is Natalia Alianovna Romanova. I could be alive, I could live, I could be…
Darkness took over her.
… free.
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