Natasha's Kid

Chapter 22 - Scars

Third Person POV:

The door closed behind Clint and Natasha. Flicking the light switch on Clint stopped Natasha before she could say anything. "She cannot move in with Laura and the kids."

"I can't take her on the road with me, you know I can't." She was right, Clint knew that there was no other option for Inna. But, Laura would kill him if he took another Russian assassin home with him.

He paused, the silence engulfing the room as the redhead waited for a response.  "I'll talk with Laura, but no promises..." he finally said. Natasha gave him a small smile, she turned to walk out of the door as Clint sighed glaring at the name on the small screen of his phone. As she opened the door the atmosphere dropped.

*Trigger Warning: Jumpers in hot weather (Please don't read this if it at all makes you uncomfortable at all)*

Inna POV:

My head pressed against the cold metal of the walls, trying to cool me down. A line of sweat dripped down my face, my hairline glossy in the partial light coming from the windows of the aircraft. I readjusted my thick black jumper I had gotten from Mason. The sleeves sticking to my arms and wrists making them itch. I knew I shouldn't scratch them, but the searing urge to scrape the skin off my body was too much. I tried to hide it, shifting in my seat and sliding my fingers into my sleeves. My eyes closing as I wait for the positive to come. The sharp tightening of the handcuffs every night ring in my head. I knew it wasn't back there but my eyes shot back open. The relief as my nails came in contact with the deep dark scar wringing my wrist was instant.

My state was interrupted by a deep voice from across the room. "You can take your jumper off," the blonde, Steve, boomed. To be honest, he scared me, coming from a trained assassin, probably wasn't good.

"I'm good," I tell him, a weak smile forced onto my face. I could feel the prying eyes of the strangers around me.

"Please," he continued insisting, "If you want to take your jumper off, by all means." He was using over exaggerated hand movements as he gestured towards me.

"Steve," Natalia's voice came from the doorway, her voice high on warning. Her knuckles are white on the doorknob. I scrunched my eyebrows together, my expression hidden by my hoodie. Obviously, she was a part of the Red Room, so she would have been handcuffed. But she didn't have a scar, not even a faded one... Could it have just healed really well?

The scars littering my body from the years of torment and torture from the Red Room. Why was I complaining or making a big deal of it? They shaped me, built me up from the ground. Now that they were gone I was just supposed to leave that all behind, like Natalia did.

But I don't think I could do that.

The next few hours of the journey were just uncomfortable silence.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////A/n:

Hey!

Sorry I haven't been updating and for the extremely short chapter. I have terrible writers block...

Anyway, to get me to keep going and not just stop in the book halfway through (because that is annoying as shit) i will be doing quite a bit time skip. This just means that I will then update probably more frequently as I have a few ideas,

Hope that you are doing ok!

Have a good rest of your day/night/whenever you are reading this