"The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned." – Maya Angelou
It took another 3 long hours before the gravel path ended. Natasha's Corvette emerged from the thick forest and entered a beautiful expanse of evergreen plateau. Taking her left hand off the steering wheel, she reached over to her side and toggled the power window switch. Her face was instantly met with a cool breeze which carried a grassy scent. Angling her head leftwards, she took a deep breath, filling her lungs with fresh air, and was rewarded with an overwhelming sense of peace and calm, a rare homey feeling. From afar, she spotted Clint's familiar homestead. It was a wooden two-story farmhouse with a ridiculously large red chimney. She slowed down her car and began to mull over another problem that she had to face, a problem that had to be tackled with absolute care and delicacy: what to tell Laura and the kids?
Natasha was surprised that the question had completely slipped her mind throughout the entire journey to the farm. But in her defense, she was kinda on the run… and she had to keep watching her back in order to make sure that she wasn't followed…so she guessed it just…slipped her mind? Nevertheless, the problem was there, whether she liked it or not, and she was just gonna have to find a way to deal with it.
She drove slowly through the plateau and pondered for a good 10 minutes, trying to find the best way to broach the subject to Laura without inciting some sort of panic attack…or hysteria… or emotional breakdown from the latter. But then again, she ought to give Laura some credit. She knew how strong Laura Barton truly was, there was never any doubt about that. But the kids…
Natasha sighed in defeat. How to tell the kids without upsetting them? Now, that, was a different story altogether.
As soon as the Clint's old garage (and the huge lake beside it) came into view, Natasha knew that she didn't have much pondering time left.
Screw it. Just give them the truth. Natasha quickly decided.
Clint's family deserve the truth after all, on second thought… maybe not the whole truth… Okay, maybe she could give Laura alone the whole truth, but sugarcoat it with the kids? Oh, hell, she might as well just tell Laura alone and just let Laura deal with the task of telling the kids.
Sounds like a good plan.
When Natasha pulled up in front of the house, she was quite surprised to see the garage's door already opened and Clint's pickup truck already parked outside, leaving an empty space in the garage for her car. Almost as if they were expecting her arrival and that they knew she needed to hide her car in the garage. For a split second, she panicked and rummaged her duffel bag for her handguns, fearing that the farm had been compromised after all, but then everything clicked.
Of course, Phil must have called ahead and told them I'd be arriving.
Natasha sighed in relief. Sheesh, she seemed remarkably edgy today, a behavior that was so unlike her usual cool and composed character. Said behavior may or may not have something to do with the life threatening situation that a certain super soldier was then about to face. Just sayin'
Relieved, Natasha maneuvered her Corvette into the garage before killing the engine. She took off her photo static mask and blonde wig. Both items were subsequently stuffed into her duffel bag.
No point in giving Laura one heck of a scare with the disguise there.
Natasha took in her own reflection in the rear view mirror and tried to make herself look normal and composed – can't imagine what the kids would feel if she walked into the house looking like she had just fought down a squadron of Chitauri army. Once satisfied with her reflection, she zipped up her duffel bag, exited her car and the garage with her bag slung over her right shoulder. She swiftly closed the garage door with her left hand and strolled to the back door of the house. For the sake of normalcy, she actually knocked instead of just picking the locks. Taking a deep breath, she readied herself for some serious explaining task ahead.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
Four seconds. The lock clicked open.
door opened on the fifth second, and Natasha was greeted by the sight of a beautiful brunette and by the pleasant smell of pancakes.
And on the sixth second, Natasha Romanoff could feel it in her bones. The promise of warmth, and comfort. Feeling the weight of her crumbled world easing off her shoulders, bit by bit, piece by piece.
On the seventh second, Natasha smiled a little.
She was home.
Laura Barton greeted her with a smile, "Nat! Phil called, said you were coming over."
Great, Phil kept it vague, leave it to poor me to deliver the hammer blow. Thanks a lot Phil.
Laura looked beautiful. Elegant. She carried herself with an air of sophistication and class, as always. To any untrained eye, Laura appeared cheery and nonchalant. Frankly, Laura could have fooled anyone with her acting, but not the Black Widow. Natasha saw through Laura's façade right away. She knew that there cannot possibly be cheer, or joy, behind Laura's haunted eyes. If nothing else, the bags under her eyes gave it all away. Laura was clearly overwrought, but was trying to keep up a cheery appearance. Odds were that it was all for the kids' sake.
Natasha noticed the way Laura threw a quick glance beyond the doorway, towards the space behind where Natasha stood. Subtle. But not subtle enough to elude the master spy.
She was looking to see if Clint was coming home with me. Damn it, this is so much harder than I thought.
The smile on Natasha's face faltered.
"Laura, hi. We need to talk, in private. Where are the kids?" Natasha said in response to Laura's greeting earlier.
"Um…Okay, yeah sure…we can talk, but you sound serious, is everything alright? And the kids, they are upstairs, I was just about to put them to bed. We just had dinner. Why don't you come in?" Laura rambled.
Natasha nodded before stepping in through the opened door.
Immediately, Laura pulled the other woman in for a hug.
"Nat, it's so good to see you… When Clint left, I couldn't stop worrying." Laura said before breaking their much needed embrace, ending the brief comfort.
"It's good to see you too, Laura. Listen, Clint's fine, I promise. But he can't come home just yet. I'll tell you everything once you put the kids to bed. I don't want them to overhear us. Everything's gonna be alright. Trust me." Natasha stated reassuringly.
Laura visibly relaxed upon hearing Natasha's words. After closing and locking the door, Laura guided Natasha towards the kitchen counter.
"You look worn, Nat." Laura stated worriedly all the while staring pointedly at the nasty bruises on Natasha's neck (courtesy of the Winter Soldier's metal arm). The act did not go unnoticed by the master spy.
"Don't worry, Laura, I'm okay. Just had a long day is all." Natasha reassured while giving Laura an appreciative smile.
It's nice to know that somebody actually cares about me or worries about my injuries. Natasha thought as a warm, tingly feeling seeped through her heart.
"Hey, um, why don't I fix you some dinner from our leftover pancakes? Then you can help yourself to dinner while I go put the kids to bed?"
"Actually, that sounds great, Laura. Thanks."
"Okay, just sit tight. Dinner will be ready in a few."
Ten minutes later, Natasha sat alone at the kitchen counter nursing a plate of pancakes and a cup of green tea. Laura had gone upstairs to be with her kids. While she ate, Natasha took in the appearance of the house. The living room looked exactly the same, well, other than the presence of a new baby cradle beside the couch, which immediately reminded Natasha of the latest addition to Barton's family.
Nathaniel, of course.
Nathaniel was Hawkeye's youngest son who was born after Ultron's defeat a year ago. A sweet boy still in the early stages of life, basking in innocence; that stage of life which had been brutally taken away from young Natalia Romanova nearly two decades ago. Averting her gaze from the cradle, Natasha's sight landed on the coffee table where she saw newspapers (still opened) scattered messily across the entire table. A laptop with its lid opened sat atop the newspapers. Natasha was a sharp woman, one glance sufficed for her to put the pieces together. She didn't even need to walk over to the coffee table to figure out precisely what Laura had been doing for the past few days, and perhaps been doing just moments ago. Obviously, Laura had been searching, frantically, for any news about her husband. And from Laura's demeanor, her searches were most probably fruitless. Unsurprisingly so. Since the government would probably want to keep the incarcerations of the members of the Avengers quiet, for PR reasons. Despite the alleged 'fear' and 'hatred' towards the Avengers, there were also quite a substantial amount of fans who actually supported the avenging crew. Hence, Clint's arrest along with the others' were probably kept out of the media's reach to avoid provoking the public.
About half an hour later, Natasha was done with her meal. She had even taken her time to do the dishes, but there were still no signs of Laura.
An eerie silence permeated the house. Too quiet to Natasha's liking.
What's taking her so long? The kids usually fall asleep in under 10 minutes...
Crap.
Natasha's super-spy senses kicked in.
She walked over to her duffel bag, pulled out both of her Glock 26s and unlocked their safeties.
Please be okay, please be okay. Natasha mentally chanted as she slowly crept towards the stairway.
"Laura! You okay up there?" Natasha shouted, her voice echoed through the stairway.
Silence.
"Laura!" Natasha tried again.
Much eerie silence ensued.
No footsteps. No voices. Shit.
How could this be? Lance and Bobbi were watching the place like hawks (she spotted the two of them among the trees while she was driving through the gravel path). Unless those two were busy making out on the tree top, then nobody could possibly slip past them, right? Well, she could, but that was totally beside the point.
Quickly considering her options, Natasha thought of ringing Coulson and ask him to send in backup. And hey, maybe she could go back out to call down those two lovebirds herself. But the thought of leaving the house… nope. Not a chance in hell. She supposed she could call Coulson anyway, and maybe have him alert the love birds about the situation-
All of a sudden, she heard the sound of a door closing.
Argh. To hell with backups. I ain't afraid of nobody.
She was an Avenger who whooped some serious Chitauri ass, for heaven's sake. She could handle some lowly goons with guns. Okay, except maybe when said goons had a bunch of sleeping ten-year-olds as leverage… now that would certainly be a situation of considerable hairiness. Oh fuck. Natasha tightened her grip on her weapons, steeling herself for a battle. Still standing at the bottom of the staircase, the spy waited, eyes wide open in anticipation of an assault. She could feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins, heightening her every sensory faculties. She felt everything. Her pulse, thrumming in her ears. The tingles on her nape which nearly had her shivering.
Seconds later, her ears pricked up again. This time, it was the sound of creaking floorboards. Her familiarity with the farmhouse allowed her to pin-point the exact source of the noise. The creaking was caused by a series of planks (an entire strip of them along the whole length of the hallway upstairs) which were deliberately made to sound whenever they were stepped on. It was actually Clint's idea of a safety measure. See, anyone familiar with the workings of the house knew about them and would usually avoid stepping on them, and that was kinda the idea of it – a quick way to identify intruders lurking around at the hallway.
Maybe Laura just stepped on it by accident?
Another creak sounded. Fuck.
A drop of perspiration slid down the column of Natasha's neck.
She held her breath, eyes laser-focused on the space at the top of the stairway.
The barrel of both Glocks rose an inch higher as Natasha growled.
Fuck it.
Hell hath no fury like a woman whose family came to harm in the hands of sadistic evil bastards with guns. They were about to fall victim to the full wrath of the Black Widow, all of them, whoever that was lurking upstairs. Threaten her family? Hah. She was about to give them a taste of hell.
She was ready. So ready.
Come on, you sons of bitches.
Her eyes picked up shadows, and within the next microsecond, she reacted. She dashed up the stairs soundlessly, taking 4 steps at a time. She was about a third of the way to the top when she saw…
Laura emerging from the top of the stairway.
Natasha heaved a sigh of relief and sagged against the wall of the stairway.
"Боже мой, Laura, you scared the shit out of me! Jesus."
Natasha turned and retreated down the stairs, surprised that she could actually walk given the state of wobbliness of her legs. As the adrenaline wore out, so did her energy. All of a sudden, she felt drained.
Laura followed the other woman to the bottom of the stairs.
"Nat, jeez, I'm sorry. I was just preparing the guest bedroom for you and then I fell asleep…"
"The floorboard alerts, you sounded it." Natasha quickly put her guns away. Laura had then reached the bottom of the stairs.
"Did I? Gosh. I'm so sorry. I didn't even realize. Must've been a misstep." Laura shook her head guiltily.
"Don't ever do that again." Natasha said with such ferocity that had Laura flinching slightly.
"Please…" Natasha added a second later.
The sight of Natasha's tear-brimmed eyes only served to intensify Laura's guilt.
"I know, I know. I'm so very sorry, Nat. I just...haven't had time to prepare the guestroom for you after Phil called…" Laura explained apologetically, subtly glancing towards the coffee table containing all the newspapers. That glance didn't go unnoticed by Natasha. Surprise! See, nothing slips past the Black Widow, ever. And from Natasha's observations, Laura hadn't been sleeping much either.
Guess that explains why Laura stepped on the floorboards. Must have been a tiring few days for her.
Natasha felt a pang of guilt coursed through her veins.
"God, Laura, I'm so sorry that you guys were dragged into this mess. I truly am. I know you are worried about Clint, but please, trust me when I say that he's fine. Plus, you can't really find news about him through the media, I'm willing to bet all my chips that the government covered it up." Natasha said, putting both of her hands on Laura's shoulders.
"Nat, the kids are asleep, so why don't we go talk? Tell me what's going on." Laura pleaded.
"Yeah, okay. Let's go sit on the couch. I'll tell you everything." Natasha complied, took Laura's hand and pulled her towards the living room.
Once both of them were seated on the couch, Natasha asked, "Did Phil mention when he will be here?"
"Err yeah, based on the time he told me when he called, I'd estimate that he'd be here in about…another 4 hours from now? Why?" Laura said.
Shit. Can Steve even last 4 hours?
"Damn, 4 hours. I don't know if that's quick enough, Laura. But I guess it gives me ample time to fill you in on things." Natasha replied, trying to keep her cool.
"You need to be somewhere…" Laura stated, having caught on to Natasha's distress.
So much for keeping my emotions in check.
"Yeah, kinda. You'll get it once I tell you everything." Natasha replied.
"Okay, then, I'm all ears." Laura said eagerly.