aligning to your axis
magnetic in your motions
rating: pg
characters: Maria Hill, Natasha Romanoff
warnings: none
author's note: Set during Captain America: TWS.
summary: It will be the end of her covers, the end of the lies, the end of their line.
Some goodbyes need no words.
This is the end of their line. It started somewhere in Belfast, wound through a hundred missions and thirty countries, carried a soldier and an assassin through the glory days of an organization known more for its shadow than its soul - and it will end here, in a damp and echoing underground hallway, in silence and in partings.
Natasha wishes she could have been surprised that she's facing her final SHIELD moments like this, but she has envisioned such things too many times to be shocked now. That Maria's here, that surprises her.
It scares her, if she's being honest. (And she isn’t always honest.)
Hill finishes inspecting the packed gunshot wound, smoothing over the edges of the tape that will hold gauze and stitches in place with the vain hope that Natasha won't be forced to fight with the arm. She will, both of them know it, but the routine steps are reassuring to them both.
Are prolonging the moment this all ends.
Maria nods curtly, lips pressed together, and glances up at the only part of Strike Team Delta left standing. It's all there, Natasha thinks with a hint of a smile, her determination, her hope, her fear, all laid out on the familiar face that she has trained herself to read.
It's why she trusts this woman above all others, beyond Coulson or Barton or Fury himself. They are all of them spies, liars, deceivers and players - but for a single soldier turned agent, a soldier who wears her heart on her sleeve. The one person Natasha trusts, implicitly, unquestioningly, to never lie to her.
That trust is why Hill will not speak now.
If it were any other mission, any other fight, Natasha wouldn't look back. But it's the end of the line, the end of their ties, and even if they both survive this (she hopes they both survive this), they are heading separate ways.
Natasha exhales softly, leans forward the few inches to rest her forehead against Maria's, and closes her eyes. They breathe in, out, in again, in a killer's goodbye, a soldier's farewell - and Natasha slides off the makeshift doctor's table, pulls her sweatshirt closed, and walks away.
It's the end of their line, and in a world gone mad with monsters and magic, she will miss the firm, fixed faith of Maria’s presence, the north to set her compass to.
(She tells the generals they will know where to find her, and maybe it's true. As she walks the streets of a capitol washed with blood and the waters of a rising river, she feels the conviction of Hill's belief drawing her like a lodestone - and smiles.)
rating: pg
characters: Maria Hill, Natasha Romanoff
warnings: none
author's note: Set during Captain America: TWS.
summary: It will be the end of her covers, the end of the lies, the end of their line.
Some goodbyes need no words.
This is the end of their line. It started somewhere in Belfast, wound through a hundred missions and thirty countries, carried a soldier and an assassin through the glory days of an organization known more for its shadow than its soul - and it will end here, in a damp and echoing underground hallway, in silence and in partings.
Natasha wishes she could have been surprised that she's facing her final SHIELD moments like this, but she has envisioned such things too many times to be shocked now. That Maria's here, that surprises her.
It scares her, if she's being honest. (And she isn’t always honest.)
Hill finishes inspecting the packed gunshot wound, smoothing over the edges of the tape that will hold gauze and stitches in place with the vain hope that Natasha won't be forced to fight with the arm. She will, both of them know it, but the routine steps are reassuring to them both.
Are prolonging the moment this all ends.
Maria nods curtly, lips pressed together, and glances up at the only part of Strike Team Delta left standing. It's all there, Natasha thinks with a hint of a smile, her determination, her hope, her fear, all laid out on the familiar face that she has trained herself to read.
It's why she trusts this woman above all others, beyond Coulson or Barton or Fury himself. They are all of them spies, liars, deceivers and players - but for a single soldier turned agent, a soldier who wears her heart on her sleeve. The one person Natasha trusts, implicitly, unquestioningly, to never lie to her.
That trust is why Hill will not speak now.
If it were any other mission, any other fight, Natasha wouldn't look back. But it's the end of the line, the end of their ties, and even if they both survive this (she hopes they both survive this), they are heading separate ways.
Natasha exhales softly, leans forward the few inches to rest her forehead against Maria's, and closes her eyes. They breathe in, out, in again, in a killer's goodbye, a soldier's farewell - and Natasha slides off the makeshift doctor's table, pulls her sweatshirt closed, and walks away.
It's the end of their line, and in a world gone mad with monsters and magic, she will miss the firm, fixed faith of Maria’s presence, the north to set her compass to.
(She tells the generals they will know where to find her, and maybe it's true. As she walks the streets of a capitol washed with blood and the waters of a rising river, she feels the conviction of Hill's belief drawing her like a lodestone - and smiles.)