Alright! So on we get with this story; the ghost of Christmas past- a familiar face? Who's it going to be? I said it before, and I say it again- all Dickens, all the time. Clint shows up in the chapter! :D For ages, I feel like Nat was 28 in 2012, so she would be (does math on calculator because is a polisci major) 58. She was therefore born in 1984. Be warned, un beta'd. I take no credit for this.
When Natasha awoke, it was so dark that, looking out of bed, she could scarcely distinguish her window from her wall; suddenly her alarm clock chimed 12, which was odd indeed since alarm clocks don't usually chime the hour. What was odder still was that it was past two when she went to bed. Confused she sat up and started to play with the clock to try to change it back, to no avail. She soon gave up. Anya's ghost bothered her exceedingly. Everytime she convinced herself it was a dream, her mind flew back again to how real it seemed and doubt reflooded her brain. Her clock chimed again- except this time, with a deep, dull, melancholy and hollow tone. Natasha picked her gun back up as light flashed up in the room; she then found herself face to face with the unearthly visitor...
"Steve?! What are YOU doing here? How did you.." She was cut off.
"No, not Steve" replied the spectre, "I just look like him." Indeed he did, from his well toned shoulders to calves he was dressed in his Cap uniform, sans helmet, with the exception that it was bright white; his golden hair was even more golden than before, and his shield sparkled and glittered now in one part and now in another, as if it were made of the stars themselves.
"Are you the spirit who I was warned about then? Why the hell are you dressed like Steve?"
"You would be driven mad by my true form- I chose a form you knew which was appropriate- Steven Rogers is a man of the past, and that's where we are going."
"What, in a TARDIS?" Natasha, it seemed, could not keep her sarcasm limited to the living.
"I don't understand that refrence" began the Steve- like spirit, "Rise! And walk with me!" It would have been in vain for Natasha to protest on account of her appearance so she took Steve's hand and walked towards the window.
"You do realize," she began, "I am a mortal and therefore liable to fall"
"bear but a touch of your hand there" said the spirit, laying her hand upon the shield, "and you shall be upheld in more than this!" As the words were spoken, they passed through the wall and stood upon an busy street, with signs up advertising products and services in German. Natasha supposed it to be around Christmas time, as the streets were decorated, but the whole place had an old world feel- she looked around at the clothes and realized it was sometime in the 90's.
"What the... it's West Berlin, a few years after the wall fell... I was on alot of early espionage training missions here as a girl... no one would suspect a nine year old to be sniffing out KGB deserters." Natasha was by then very good at keeping the bitterness out of her voice.
Steve gazed upon her mildly. "Your lip is trembling. And what is that on your cheek?" Natasha muttered, with an unusual catching voice, that it was some old scar. The ghost then pointed out a familiar red flash- Natasha craned her neck to glance at her 9 year old self- pretending to look at the windows, when really on the look out for her mark. She gasped. They both watched as a little girl and what seemed to be her father stepped up beside Natasha and started laughing and pointing at the windows. Natasha could see her younger self pretend not to listen, but she knew, she remembered what she was really feeling.
"I have to warn her to keep her head in the mission" Natasha moved to cross the street, but was stopped by Steve.
"Romanov, these are but shadows of the things that have been" he began mildly "They have no consciousness of us" They continued to watch, to Natasha's horror, as her younger self's face begins to darken while listening to the happy ramblings of the father and daughter, until she realized that her mark walked right by her, forcing her to plough through the crowd, drawing unnecessary attention to herself. Natasha winced as she watched her younger self pull out and twist the poisoned ring she was wearing, leap up onto the man in the alley and plunge the needle into his neck. Time seemed to fast forward and Natasha watched herself slunk out of the alley, watched the police surround the body, watched as the streets were slowly deserted until she was alone, waiting for a pickup that would be a day late.
"These streets are not quite deserted" began the spirit, in a tone that was most reminiscent of Steve when he was consoling a team mate who has made a mistake- "a solitary child, neglected by those who said they were her only family, she is there still" Natasha said she knew it. And she sobbed.
They flew again, over Germany into the white tipped Russia, with it's familiar Soviet-era buildings, and farms that went for miles. They soon approached a compound, of dull grey concrete and barbed wire fence 10 feet high. There was a chilly bareness in the place, which associated itself somehow with too much getting up before dawn, and not too much to eat. They went, the ghost and Natasha, to a door at the back of the main building. It opened before them, and disclosed a long bare, melancholy room, made barer still by lines of plain bunk beds- all white and small. Upon each of these beds was an even smaller girl, and although they were together, they all seemed even more lonely because of it. Natasha sat down and wept to see her old bedroom, even worse than what the memories replayed. Not a latent echo in the house, not a squeak and scuffle of mice, not a drip from the half thawed water spout in the sink at the head of the room. Just silence. Steve touched her on the arm and pointed to her younger self, now returned from that same mission, curled up and pretending to sleep.
"I wish" Natasha muttered, putting her hands in the large front pocket of the sweatshirt "but it's too late now."
"What is the matter?" asked the spirit, who sounded more and more like Steve with every gentle question.
"Nothing." said Natasha "Nothing. I was just... remembering. I should have liked to tell myself that there was nothing to be jealous of way back then; family only compromises you. That's all" Steve smiled thoughtfully and waved his hand, saying as he did so; "Let us see another Christmas!" Natasha's former self grew larger until she almost didn't fit on the bottom bunk bed anymore, and the room became a little darker, and a little dirtier. Natasha also watched as the number of girls dwindled, and pushed the memories of why what happened to be to the back of her mind. She was reading now, though, as being exempt from some late night training since she was the top of her... 'class' the last week. Suddenly, another girl came sprinting up to Natasha glancing around. Natasha's eyes widened as she found herself gazing upon Anya's face for the second time that night.
"Natasha!" exclaimed the Raven haired girl "Shh! No time to explain. Here." She shoved a small package onto Natasha's lap so it was hidden by her book. "Merry Christmas!"
"But I didn't..."
"No need. I saw it on my mission and thought of you. I just got back. Quick! Hide it under your pillow before the others return!" It wasn't until much later Natasha would have a chance to open the gift and find a spider preserved in some sort of crystal.
Natasha smiled gratefully at Anya that same night as they faced each other from across their aisle.
"Thank you" Natasha mouthed at Anya "It's perfect."
"She was my first real friend. It was rare to find real friends at that place. Constantly driving into us that you can't trust anyone was probably the reason why".
"It would seem she had a large heart". The Steve spirit laid his hand upon Natasha's shoulder consolingly.
"It wouldn't matter in the end." Natasha stated bitterly "It's because of her I'm in this mess."
"If you do alright, perhaps she'll get out of hers." Natasha looked at the spirit questioningly, but then was whisked to a new compound, one however, with a much more welcoming atmosphere. The salty texture of the air, the feeling that gravity was only a construct, she'd know the helicarrier anywhere it was, whatever time of day. She was in a corridor, one a floor up from the barracks, a bridge between the armoury and storage compartment 2. They walked along the hallway and stopped at a door, and Steve asked if she knew it.
"Know it!" said Natasha "If you were the real Steve, you'd know this was the exercise room; too many agents in a enclosed space- if we didn't have a place to let off steam, then I wouldn't want to be on this thing right now." They went in. It was oddly deserted; a few agents at the shooting range, a few sparring, one on the treadmills. Natasha glanced over her colleagues young faces- dead in 3 years, crippled, retired, desk job, dead, dead. Natasha was remembering fates rather than names. Steve pointed to a secluded corner, where a familiar face was honing their gymnast skills. Natasha watched herself leap down, grab a towel and water bottle and go and sit in the viewing area up top. She and Steve followed.
"This must've been my first year in Shield. They haven't put any of the super training equipment in yet." She watched herself take a drink but then cough it up as an unheard presence made itself known
"Kinda sucks that we have to work Christmas, doesn't it Romanov?" Clint's Midwestern accent wasn't as diluted as it would become, and Natasha fondly recalled teasing him that his accent was stronger than hers- and he was a national.
"No. No it doesn't. For one thing, crime doesn't stop for silly little consumerist holidays. And another, I've never done anything for Christmas that I can remember so, no it's just another day of work for me." Natasha's old self glared at Clint coldly, as to warn him off the subject, but Natasha knew, even if she didn't already remember this conversation all to well, that Clint never backed down. Ever.
"Pssh. It's not JUST a consumerist holiday Tash" Another glare (She was still pretending she hated him calling her Tash at this point) "But you're right. Everything goes terribly wrong on Christmas if you've ever watched Doctor Who. Anyway, you can start doing stuff for Christmas now that you're American. Here." He tossed her a box, whilst throwing her his most charming grin "Merry Christmas"
"Barton please, don't go all sentimental on me. You're supposed to be an assassin." She opened the box anyway. Inside there was a belt buckle, in the shape of a red hourglass...
"Don't deny it. You were suffering in that uniform. You needed some individuality. Your codename is Black Widow, it fits." Natasha's younger self looked up at the man with a very suppressed look of awe.
"Thank you" she began in Russian "Merry... Merry Christmas Clint." If it was possible, Clint's grin grew even wider.
"You're welcome Tash. And it will be. No matter where we are tomorrow, it'll be fun."The older Natasha didn't trust herself to speak.
"my time grows short" observed Steve. "Quick!" This was not addressed to Natasha, but it had an immediate effect. For again Natasha saw herself, no longer on the helicarrier. She recognized the base that was rebuilt after Clint and Loki had nearly demolished it, recognized herself about 32 walking down the corridor with her usual 'don't mess with me' expression. She watched as her younger self paused to eaves...um listen to 2 newly acquired agents complaining.
"I almost wish we were still in training. At least we'd get Christmas off. It's so hard to explain to parents you can't make it when you can't tell them why" The other agent snorted
"They should make all the other agents who don't have families work it. It's not like they're accountable to anyone." The first agent laughed.
"Can you imagine?! Romanov sitting around a Christmas table, wearing a paper hat schmoozing inlaws?" The agents were nearly doubled over with laughter.
"As if she could ever have inlaws- somehow love and marriage don't fit her description. Good thing Barton doesn't have parents. I feel sorry for him though. He must know that she could never really love him, doesn't he?"
"Barton can take care of himself. He nearly 'took care of' the entire helicarrier, remember? But you're right. I do feel bad for him, but it's not like he could ever have a normal life in any event." Natasha watched as her younger self turned away from the agents and walked briskly in the direction of her room. She and Steve followed herself as she slammed the door closed and sat on the bed with her head in her hands. Time fast forwarded again when Clint sauntered in the room.
"Tash! Guess what? I accidentally let it slip to Barney that we have Christmas off... Hey what's wrong?"Although it would appear that nothing was wrong with Natasha, Clint knew better.
"Nothing. I still can't believe you've forgiven him after what he did to you, but go on." Clint knew when to drop things.
"He's my brother Tash, I can't un-family him. Anyway, he's invited us over for Christmas dinner, would you be up for it?" A dark look passed over Natasha's face.
"You know I don't do domestic Barton. How could you think I'd ever be happy sitting around a table with a bunch of kids. Does Barney want a person sitting at his table who killed before the age of 9?"
"You seem to be taking Barney into more consideration, even though you were insulting him a second ago. And I dunno, I thought you'd maybe enjoy it, almost be normal for once. WE could be almost normal for once."
"How can I be normal Clint? I don't want to be normal. I can't be 'normal'. And also, 'we'? What do you mean 'we'? Clint you have to know that this us you're going on about won't work... you're taking me home to meet your family. What do you think this is?" The older Natasha watched heartbrokenly, as Clint fingered a box in his pocket, that she had never noticed before.
"I guess I inferred from the way we have been acting of late that we were something. I guess I was wrong."
"Of course you are Clint. You think you've defined me, but you haven't. I'll remind you that I was my own person before you spared me."
"I never said you weren't. Why are you with me then? If you feel like I'm stifling you, then why haven't you left? Asked for another partner? Stopped... this." Realization seemed to dawn on Clint's face. "is this a stupid ledger thing? If it is... then I release you." His tone had turned from menacing to broken.
"From what?!"
"From my influence. From whatever ridiculous debt you seem to think you owe me. I release you. With a full heart, for the love of her that I thought you might have been. May you be happy or whatever it is you want to feel Natasha."
"Steve! Stop this!" said Natasha "Show me no more! Why do you delight to torture me with my most cowardly moment!?"
"Cowardly?"
"Yes cowardly! I was afraid of what he'd done to me, I always said love was for children, and I realized when those agents were talking that I COULD imagine myself in that scenario- all too easily. I was scared when I realized I really did love him. I was afraid I'd loose power, loose myself, when really, I lost myself when he walked out that door."
"One shadow more!" exclaimed Steve.
"No more! No more. I don't wish to see it!"
But the Steve-Spirit forced her to observe what happened next. It was a living room, not very large or fancy, but full of comfort. Near to the fire a boy sat on the lap of man, so like him that Natasha thought she was looking at Clint's childhood when she realized the man holding the child was Clint, aged, but still handsome. The noise in this room was perfectly tumultuous for there was more children than it was possible to keep track of, yet this didn't seem to be a problem. All the adults were laughing heartily while the children whizzed away with whatever they were doing, but Nat could only keep her eyes on Clint, reading a book to the boy on his lap, grinning the smile that he used to save for her. She was happy and sad at the same time- glad he was happy, sad that he'd moved on, even though that's what she wanted him to do. She rarely saw him again after their spat. But a man suddenly tried to get the attention of the room, and it could only have been Barney. Seeing his brother's plight Clint got the room's attention. He was good at that.
"Come on kids, time for bed! You have an exciting day tomorrow!" a unanimous groan passed through the kids, and Clint laughed.
"Come on Adam, your Dad says it's bedtime" Natasha watched as Clint stood up with the boy, started towards the stairs. Natasha didn't know whether she wanted to laugh or cry upon hearing the revelation that Clint was not the boy's father, but still admired him as he walked with the kids up the stairs.
"Steve..."
"He never married."
"I see." The scene changed again, and Nat watched the two brothers in deep conversation.
"So you still haven't heard from her?"
"Who?"
"You know who I mean Clint." Natasha watched in horror as a pained look flashed briefly across Clint's face.
"It's been 10 some odd years. I'm over it"
"Steve, stop. I can't listen to this. Take me back. Please!" Natasha tried to tug Steve away in a struggle, if it can be called a struggle in which the ghost with no visible resistance on it's own part was undisturbed by the effect of it's adversary, Natasha suddenly observed his Shield, grabbed it, and screamed
"Take me home!"
She was conscious of being exhausted, and overcome by an irresistible drowsiness; and further, of being in her own bedroom; where she sank into a heavy sleep.
And there you have it! Steve-Spectre didn't have many lines, so even though I tried to make him like Steve, he was still ooc. Oh well. He wasn't really himself anyway. Who's going to be the ghost of Christmas present? You'll have to stay tuned to find out! I hope you enjoyed it! Merry Christmas!
Photo41