I Sleep Better Now

The Parker home's door was carefully forced open by Max Miles. Quietly, it was forced ajar. His hand firmly gripped the pistol with ease, ready to shoot if he had too and not having any second thoughts about it. His partners went to the hospital to take care of May Parker in case she didn't show up here tonight. Just in case, he was ready. He thought it all through in his head. If she wasn't here already, he would just hide somewhere, wait a while until it was the perfect time to strike. Maybe hide in the basement. Under the bed even. Wait for her to open the closet door just before putting a bullet in her head. He thought it all through. And he knew May wouldn't be a challenge. She was just a middle-aged woman who was clueless to all that was happening.

But he also considered the possibility of the two already beating him to it. Ms. Parker may already be gone. The two may have already warned her. Regardless, he couldn't take chances. He was here now.

The house was as pitch black as the night outside. He crept on in silently, not wanting even a fly on the wall to notice that he entered. Looking up the stairs, he walked on by, starting downstairs first and then checking later. He scanned the living room. No one in sight. With how furniture was arranged, there wasn't really a way to hide in the living room. Miles checked corners and any other spots. No one.

"I see you took your time," a voice sounded from the kitchen, just ahead from him.

Miles turned his head in the direction of the voice, and could make out a figure sitting at the kitchen island. Reaching for the light switch, cautiously, the lights came on to show Romanoff calmly aiming her pistol on him. He smiled and shook his head.

"Black Widow," he said under his breath. "What a ruthless creature."

"It's over," she remarked. "You won't find Peter or May Parker again. They're safe, and if I don't already, SHIELD's coming for your ass."

"Hmm."

"Or at least they'll come for your body when this is over."

"Oh, it's like that now?"

Natasha slowly shook her head. "I know I'm not really one to talk about high morals and all and having a sense of dignity, but some people are just born monsters, you know?"

"People like us?" Miles replied.

"Like you. I was made. You… I'll never understand. But I don't think I care either."

"Of course you don't. You're the Black Widow. You're not supposed to care about anything. You're cold, ruthless, detached, heartless… merciless. Caring is not in your job description."

He walked on over to the end of the couch that was facing her directly from the kitchen, and leaned himself against it, relaxing his grip on his gun. Natasha never moved hers. She kept it fixed on him.

"So where exactly did you take them?" Miles asked, not really expecting an answer.

"You'd like to know, wouldn't you?" Natasha said.

May paced about the small room she was told to stay in. It had a couch and two chairs along with some lamps. No windows. Outside were agents guarding the door, protecting her in case anything should happen. They told her they were agents of SHIELD. It was only until afterwards when Natasha told her that very same thing that May realized what that was. It was all over the news. SHIELD and HYDRA. Something to do with global intelligence organizations, and thousands of SHIELD agents' identities across the globe revealed. She remembered clearly now. She remembered watching it all on the news. And then… she suddenly remembered the name Natasha Romanoff. Everything was hitting her all at once. Her mind could barley process it.

All that mattered right now more than anything was her nephew. In the midst of this chaos, all she wanted to know was that Peter was fine, that he was safe. She needed to hug him in her arms. She needed to touch him. She stopped in the middle of pacing to try and hold herself together. Thoughts kept flashing over her mind. Horrible thoughts. And every time they appeared, tears flooded her eyes. A fantasy that Peter would just walk through that door right now and cleanse her of all worry kept running over and over again as if thinking about it enough times would make it come true.

"A safe house, perhaps?" Miles guessed.

He was right of course. They were in protective custody under SHIELD. But Natasha wouldn't tell him that.

"Somewhere safe," she said.

"But are they as safe as you'd like them to be?"

Silence.

"Romanoff, I always knew there was some side of you that others couldn't really see. But I could. I knew you had a soft side in you all along. No matter how cold-blooded you would like to seem, you were too soft sometimes. And you would try and hide it whenever it popped up so no one else could see it… but I did. Who knows, maybe even Fury did, too. I guess for him, that would be reassuring to know that one of his most feared agents actually has a heart of gold after all. I have to say, me and him don't see eye to eye."

"So you think only savages can win a war?" Natasha said. "Only barbaric men can make great agents."

"I don't think."

"Clearly," Natasha humored dryly.

"I know."

"This is why Fury suspended you. This is why your hopes of any future promotions within SHIELD went out the window- "

"Within SHIELD. HYDRA offered me more than SHIELD could ever muster."

"Oh, I bet. You may have gained some sort of reputation. Though, not the good kind. More of the scapegoat type. You were used as an example at various SHIELD training academies. People talked about Max Miles like he was the flu, never to be like him. If an agent ever felt like he was at his whit's end, and that he never felt cut out for this job, he could always remember Max Miles. And then all of a sudden, he knew he was worthy after all."

Miles laughed at this point. Quite hysterically.

"It is funny," Natasha spoke.

"It's hilarious," he struggled to say through his fits of laughter.

Then Natasha let this take her off guard just a bit too much. Miles distracted her enough to quickly aim his gun on her now. Natasha instantly raised hers in the blink of an eye at nearly the same time as him, though she was actually afraid that he might have beat her. The two spies kept their aim on each other with a stillness that was powerful enough to fill the house. Their eyes had no soul left in them. Staring into each other's eyes was like staring into a foggy glass. If one was going to shoot first, the other would know. It would be a standoff that could go on forever.

"How do you sleep, Romanoff?" Miles asked, keeping his gun well-fixed on her as though he never even opened his mouth.

"Better," she sternly replied, keeping her answer short as possible to keep from being remotely distracted.

"So the nightmares have gone away, huh?"

"What nightmares? I live with them every day."

Another brief silence came over the two. Natasha wanted to tremble from aiming her gun high, but she refused in order to keep her composure of looking just as vicious as Miles did. Though, even he probably wanted to do the same.

"Every agent has nightmares of their own."

"I agree."

"Well that's something we both share common ground with. I wonder how Peter's going to live his new life and still remember all of this from his old one."

Natasha kept her gun fixed.

"What, you didn't think I knew?" Miles taunted. "I know how you guys operate. What other options did you really have? You wanted to be good by doing a good thing. We already saw what happened when you tried to be ruthless. When you and him raided one of our rendezvous points at the warehouse? You thought that was good on your part, right? And then you woke up the next day in Hell. Being cold-hearted really isn't your forte like you would think it is."

"I never needed it to be," Natasha remarked. "I never wanted it to, either. I was just a girl with no parents, and KGB officers all around me. The people you surround yourself with are the ones that influence you. I wonder, Miles, what were those people in your life? I take back what I said about people being born monsters, just for the sake of playing fair. Was it a neglectful father? An alcoholic mother… were you molested as a child?"

"Boy, when you finally do get to talking you can talk way too much," Miles said, annoyed.

"We're just having a conversation, that's all. A harmless, good-hearted conversation."

As she said that, she kept her gun fixed even more on Miles, almost to where she though her hands and arms would fall apart. She couldn't lose to him.

"How does it feel being the only one in the world who can be as cold as you?" Natasha went on. "After all, you're the only one. No one can rival. Sounds lonely to me. And maybe that's all you've ever been was lonely. Knowing you now, I don't give two shits. But for the sake of being fair yet again… no one deserves to be neglected and alone."

Miles slowly shook his head, a smirk on his face. "Always think you're a mind-reader, don't you, Romanoff?"

"I guess you can say it's a gift of mine that neither SHIELD nor the KGB taught me."

"I bet you promised Peter that everything was going to be okay, right? Promised him?"

"I never make promises."

"People can break promises, even if they don't want to."

The knob to May's door suddenly turned. She turned around to see, trying to wipe away her tears and sense of urgency and frustration. As the door swung open, Peter slowly walked in as another agent held it open for him. For a while, May stood as though none of this were reality. She'd been on an emotional rollercoaster all within a single night. It was an hour past midnight already, and she didn't know if she'd ever sleep again. But her Peter was right there. He looked physically exhausted and bruised, like he'd been in a fight. That was surprisingly normal for her to see, but every time she acted as shocked as ever.

"But you're damn right that I was going to get him home alive. Home as in back with his aunt. She is his home."

Peter stared at his aunt as though he didn't want to touch her. He was afraid to because he knew she just went through a lot within one night. He felt terrible. But he was relieved that she was fine. He figured her different style of clothing she had on now was what she used to sneak out of the hospital earlier. He didn't lie, it gave her an edgy sort of vibe that was oddly interesting.

Instead, she went to him first. Trying to fight her tears, she put her arms around him and hugged him tighter than she'd ever done before.

"… But you don't understand what any of that means, do you?" Natasha said, realizing that she let her eyes drift away while she spoke. "You don't have any of that in your life. You poor, sociopathic, lowlife."

"Your words mean much, Romanoff," Miles sarcastically remarked. "Oh, and tell Peter that- "

Natasha fired. The bullet hit him square in the chest. But at nearly the same time she did, Miles also pulled the trigger. Natasha anticipated this. Always thinking steps ahead while she was rambling on about who-knows-what and Miles' pathetic life. Whilst trying to shoot and dodge his bullet at the same time, Natasha twist her body to the left so that she could miss it, but it merely skinned her shoulder. This followed with a painful groan. She nearly fell to the floor, but caught herself before she could. Natasha pressed her hand against where the bullet had grazed out of natural instinct, knowing that wouldn't help. Miles wasn't entirely dead yet. He was struggling to stay alive as he slowly slid down along the back of the couch and onto the floor. The gun in his hand dropped to his side. His eyes stay pierced on Natasha. If she were to be the last thing he saw just before he died, she'd much rather wouldn't. But she had to finish the job and make sure.

She walked up to him slowly, peering down at his helpless body holding his chest to try and stop the bleeding. Slowly, she raised her gun on him, directly for the head, trying to ignore the pain in her shoulder. But she hesitated for a moment.

"Do you wanna do the honors really quick as your last words?" she said.

Miles returned a cold glare. But he accepted her offer.

"Hail… HYDRA," he managed.

"… Hail HYDRA," Natasha replied.

She pulled the trigger.