The house is done. It wants for glass, but I understood going in that that was a luxury that would take time. I'm still working on furniture with Duck, because there's time, and lots of it, but the house itself is finished, and I can't say that knowing that has created any more of a sense of permanence for me than I felt when I was holed up in the clinic. I know the island better but still not well. Its flora and fauna, its topography, the places that are more and less populated- I'm learning what this place is, but the knowledge hasn't endeared itself to me.
Although I appreciate the quiet.
I have a small bag of laundry that needs doing, hanging over my shoulder in a green army duffel, my green army duffel from Camp Lehigh, that had been rolled up in the bottom of my foot locker. As I come up the path I notice, peripherally, the redhead perched on the trampoline. The fact that there's a trampoline to perch on is still a head scratcher, but then, so is the curling rink.
Another three steps and I realize that it's not just a passingly familiar posture and a face reminiscent of one I know. I realize it has to be her, a knowledge that settles in my gut before my brain's even had time to catch up. I slow until I'm parallel to her, though still on the well trodden path, and slip the bag from my shoulder.
Natalia's not one to shy from anything, and yet if given the choice, she'd have delayed this meeting. She's on excellent terms with Steve Rogers at home, handpicked for his elite team of Secret Avengers, but this Steve, the one who arrived here dying...his last memories of her will be those of her perceived betrayal, of a Black Widow who stood on the wrong side of the very war that got Steve killed.
She slips from the trampoline, greeting him with her spine snapped tight. He's still her commander, no matter what he believes. "Steve. It's good to see you." In spite of everything that's happened, that's still true.
I look at her for a long, silent time. The last time we spoke, I was calling her out in an alley way. I didn't say anything pleasant, but then, I was hurt, badly. Of all the friends who weren't standing with us, to watch Natalia siding with Tony, to only be able to guess at what game she was playing... I was angry. I find I'm still angry.
There's no war here, though, and I know now that eventually things come around, after a fashion. I also know, the same way I knew it was her before I even really saw her, that Bucky has to know she's here. I shouldn't assume it, but I can't believe he doesn't. I feel like this place doesn't work that way. And if he doesn't, he will soon, and that will (I dearly hope) mean a world of difference for him, for his life here.
And parting circumstances aside, I wasn't sure, when I... left home, that I would ever see her again. At least not outside of a courtroom or a prison cell. I can't ignore that fact.
All of these thoughts show on my face, though only someone who knew me intimately would be able to tell. I nod, slowly at first, gaze dropping thoughtfully for a moment before I meet her gaze again.
"You, too," I tell her honestly. It may not be easy; the feeling may not be straightforward, encumbered by things not long past (for me, at least), but it's true.
She's wearing a sun dress. To be honest, it's almost jarring. But then, I'm in denim jeans and a navy blue t-shirt. We're meeting as civilians.
"And you," answers Natalia, standing silent for a long moment afterwards. There are so many things she could say, but she's bound by James' secrets. Right or wrong, whether or not Steve could bear them, and Natalia believes he could, she won't give them up, but neither can she pretend she's come here from a time she hasn't. Under his steady gaze, Natalia gives all at once.
"James debriefed me. I understand that I come here from some time in your future."
As close to civilians as we come, then. She's been debriefed. I open my mouth to ask how far in the future, but what comes out is, "Then you've seen him."
She must have arrived recently, or I'm fairly sure he would have told me she was here.
"Good." I absently heft the duffel bag onto my shoulder again.
"Yes." Her eyes pass to his duffel. It's familiar in ways that all the pieces of Natalia's long past are, an age to it that she doesn't think is affectation. It's not fashionably retro, it's genuine, a relic from a war fought long ago, and Natalia wonders how it found its way to Steve in such excellent condition.
She looks to her own bag on the trampoline - though she hesitates to call anything in such neon colors her own, she'd needed something in which to place her suit. "The outfit I arrived in was a bit conspicuous," she says, showing him a small smile she isn't sure will be returned. "I've been here a few hours now."
"You must have run into Bucky pretty quickly, then." I feel as though I ought to walk closer, for the sake of conversation, but... I don't. I remain where I am and try to reconcile Natalia here and now with Natalia as I last saw her. I don't know how much has changed and how much hasn't.
"Four years in your future," she replies, and wonders how hard he'll press her for more. Natalia is very good at lying, and there are times when she truly enjoys it, but never to Steve. Never to any ally, despite what some might think of her. She counts him a friend, and for all the people she's served with through the years, she can say that of very few.
But she can't tell him everything. Too much of her recent history is tied up in James', and however much she'd like to do otherwise, Natalia won't betray his express wishes. "I arrived in James' home," she offers. "There was a bit of trouble before we realized who we were fighting, but everything is all right now."
"I can imagine," I murmur, eyebrows lifting slightly.
"Four years. That's a lifetime in our line of work." At least, it feels like it, for all that Bucky's told me of what happens after I'm gone- and once I've returned again.
"We none of us lacked for excitement," is Natalia's simple reply, gaze falling away for the briefest of moments. It never stops. No chance to catch their breaths ever lasts long before it's snatched away, and Natalia is beginning to feel it in her bones, a weariness of seeing harm befall the people she cares about again and again.
"I was - " she says, hesitating for only a moment, "I'm on your team of Secret Avengers." Perhaps she means to prove something to him, prove he forgives her after all, or perhaps she's only elaborating on the circumstances of her arrival. "Sharon and I were on a mission. She's doing well, Steve."
My gaze snaps up at Sharon's name, and I clench my jaw for a moment before nodding.
"Good. I'm glad to hear it."
There are some nights I wake up thinking she's there. I can hear her voice- I think it's the last thing I heard, before I came here- but not what she's saying.
I feel the reserve, whatever coldness I was holding between us, ebb. I cross to where Natalia stands and drop my bag onto the edge of the trampoline, then lean against it, crossing my arms.
"I can't tell if I landed here at an opportune moment or not," I tell her.
"No doubt your return to the land of the living was more peaceful," answers Natalia, and she means to say only what he might guess for himself, but she's not certain how well she succeeds. She's never mistaken Steve's goodness for foolishness, nor does she intend to, but there are times when she simply can't read him. Of his fondness for Sharon, however, she can be sure.
"The pair of you seem quite happy together," she says, adding evenly, "as are James and I." Secure in each other, at least, even if the world won't leave them be.
Sharon and I are happy- somewhere that isn't here. She's happy with me- only not with me. I think it's a good feeling, that knowledge. It's a little tricky to be sure. What must she have gone through? After...
I look at Natalia with surprise that's reigned in well, but noticeable. Bucky hadn't told me anything more than that she was his partner. I assumed a certain closeness, but I didn't realize there was something serious between the two of them. It's not the easiest thing to wrap my head around- I've known them both so long, in such different capacities.
"Yes," Natalia replies, a touch sharper than she intends to, but she's already born one close friend's incredulity today. It is not easy to endure another's, and there is no question that Steve's good opinion will be the dearest to James' heart. She won't ask Steve for permission to be with James, but it would be...easier if he gave it all the same.
"It is not so impossible," she says, glancing again away. It won't hurt James to tell this much, and it will hurt her not to say it. "We knew each other long ago. When I was still a girl."
"Natasha, that's..." I say, the diminutive slipping from my lips without any thought at all. I have no objection to the relationship, if that's what she's worried about, but the thought that it could be in any way a holdover from Bucky's time as the Winter Soldier throws that period of his life even deeper into question.
"I'm happy for you, that you found each other," I tell her, and the sentiment is genuine. If they make each other happy, then what problem could I possibly have? God knows, of all people, they deserve something good in their lives. Any other questions this brings up are potentially dangerous and for Bucky, besides, so I leave it at that.
My earlier hope, that having his partner back would make things better for him here, remains. I think the odds are a even better, now.
Natalia doesn't doubt it's a time they both remember. It's only how much they remember that remains in question. The Red Room had a stronger hold on her than her own reason and sense, but she thinks - she knows that what good parts were left of her, what was earnest and true and not conditioned, those were the parts that loved him. Those were the parts they'd fought so fiercely to eradicate when it came time to wed her to Alexei, and even then, she knows that James received the crueler end of their separation.
She leans back against the ridiculous trampoline, held there by the weight of the secrets piling between them. She might have found James, but she hasn't saved him, and she can't tell a soul. On her shoulders, the cheerful straps of the sundress feel more costume than her catsuit ever did. "Steve," she says, then thinks better of continuing in that vein. Breathing out a heavy sigh, she stares at the sprinkling of huts that lay beyond the concrete bunker. "What on earth do you do here?"
Although I appreciate the quiet.
I have a small bag of laundry that needs doing, hanging over my shoulder in a green army duffel, my green army duffel from Camp Lehigh, that had been rolled up in the bottom of my foot locker. As I come up the path I notice, peripherally, the redhead perched on the trampoline. The fact that there's a trampoline to perch on is still a head scratcher, but then, so is the curling rink.
Another three steps and I realize that it's not just a passingly familiar posture and a face reminiscent of one I know. I realize it has to be her, a knowledge that settles in my gut before my brain's even had time to catch up. I slow until I'm parallel to her, though still on the well trodden path, and slip the bag from my shoulder.
"Natalia."
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Natalia's not one to shy from anything, and yet if given the choice, she'd have delayed this meeting. She's on excellent terms with Steve Rogers at home, handpicked for his elite team of Secret Avengers, but this Steve, the one who arrived here dying...his last memories of her will be those of her perceived betrayal, of a Black Widow who stood on the wrong side of the very war that got Steve killed.
She slips from the trampoline, greeting him with her spine snapped tight. He's still her commander, no matter what he believes. "Steve. It's good to see you." In spite of everything that's happened, that's still true.
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There's no war here, though, and I know now that eventually things come around, after a fashion. I also know, the same way I knew it was her before I even really saw her, that Bucky has to know she's here. I shouldn't assume it, but I can't believe he doesn't. I feel like this place doesn't work that way. And if he doesn't, he will soon, and that will (I dearly hope) mean a world of difference for him, for his life here.
And parting circumstances aside, I wasn't sure, when I... left home, that I would ever see her again. At least not outside of a courtroom or a prison cell. I can't ignore that fact.
All of these thoughts show on my face, though only someone who knew me intimately would be able to tell. I nod, slowly at first, gaze dropping thoughtfully for a moment before I meet her gaze again.
"You, too," I tell her honestly. It may not be easy; the feeling may not be straightforward, encumbered by things not long past (for me, at least), but it's true.
She's wearing a sun dress. To be honest, it's almost jarring. But then, I'm in denim jeans and a navy blue t-shirt. We're meeting as civilians.
"You look well."
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"James debriefed me. I understand that I come here from some time in your future."
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She must have arrived recently, or I'm fairly sure he would have told me she was here.
"Good." I absently heft the duffel bag onto my shoulder again.
"You look like you're assimilating quickly."
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She looks to her own bag on the trampoline - though she hesitates to call anything in such neon colors her own, she'd needed something in which to place her suit. "The outfit I arrived in was a bit conspicuous," she says, showing him a small smile she isn't sure will be returned. "I've been here a few hours now."
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"When did you arrive from?"
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But she can't tell him everything. Too much of her recent history is tied up in James', and however much she'd like to do otherwise, Natalia won't betray his express wishes. "I arrived in James' home," she offers. "There was a bit of trouble before we realized who we were fighting, but everything is all right now."
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"Four years. That's a lifetime in our line of work." At least, it feels like it, for all that Bucky's told me of what happens after I'm gone- and once I've returned again.
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"I was - " she says, hesitating for only a moment, "I'm on your team of Secret Avengers." Perhaps she means to prove something to him, prove he forgives her after all, or perhaps she's only elaborating on the circumstances of her arrival. "Sharon and I were on a mission. She's doing well, Steve."
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"Good. I'm glad to hear it."
There are some nights I wake up thinking she's there. I can hear her voice- I think it's the last thing I heard, before I came here- but not what she's saying.
I feel the reserve, whatever coldness I was holding between us, ebb. I cross to where Natalia stands and drop my bag onto the edge of the trampoline, then lean against it, crossing my arms.
"I can't tell if I landed here at an opportune moment or not," I tell her.
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"The pair of you seem quite happy together," she says, adding evenly, "as are James and I." Secure in each other, at least, even if the world won't leave them be.
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I look at Natalia with surprise that's reigned in well, but noticeable. Bucky hadn't told me anything more than that she was his partner. I assumed a certain closeness, but I didn't realize there was something serious between the two of them. It's not the easiest thing to wrap my head around- I've known them both so long, in such different capacities.
"...Really?"
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"It is not so impossible," she says, glancing again away. It won't hurt James to tell this much, and it will hurt her not to say it. "We knew each other long ago. When I was still a girl."
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"I'm happy for you, that you found each other," I tell her, and the sentiment is genuine. If they make each other happy, then what problem could I possibly have? God knows, of all people, they deserve something good in their lives. Any other questions this brings up are potentially dangerous and for Bucky, besides, so I leave it at that.
My earlier hope, that having his partner back would make things better for him here, remains. I think the odds are a even better, now.
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She leans back against the ridiculous trampoline, held there by the weight of the secrets piling between them. She might have found James, but she hasn't saved him, and she can't tell a soul. On her shoulders, the cheerful straps of the sundress feel more costume than her catsuit ever did. "Steve," she says, then thinks better of continuing in that vein. Breathing out a heavy sigh, she stares at the sprinkling of huts that lay beyond the concrete bunker. "What on earth do you do here?"
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