emmylou | natasha romanoff

thirty-six.

2016
Budapest

"I have a present for you."

Kennedy doesn't look up from her book as her mother enters her room with a box. Two years had passed, and Kennedy still wasn't herself. She spent any and all free time in her room and she hardly spoke. Most people chalked it up to middle school, but Meredith and Franklin knew the truth.

When Natasha left, she took Kennedy's heart with her.

"It's not my birthday," Kennedy says as she turns the page of her book, "Or Christmas."

"I know," Meredith tells her as she enters the room and takes a seat on Kennedy's bed. She looks at the book cover and can't help the saddened sigh that escapes her. It was The Hobbit and Meredith was certain that this had to be Kennedy's twelfth time reading it. She liked the book, she loved the memories it brought more.

"Hey," Meredith says as she gently places her hand on the book, lowering it so that she could see Kennedy's face. She looks at the book to see that there was a page missing and then she looks up at Kennedy's face. She swallows as she closes the book and sets it aside.

"There's my pretty girl," Meredith says and Kennedy scoffs.

"Not feeling very pretty," Kennedy responds, "Not with this in my mouth."

"Everyone has to wear braces at some point," Meredith says, "When I was your age, I had them and so did your dad."

"Great so we all have messed up teeth," Kennedy says, "A wonderful trait that I'll get to pass off to my offspring."

"You're a little young to be thinking about kids," her mother states.

"Honestly, I don't think about them," Kennedy says, "I don't want them."

"No?" Meredith asks.

"Who would I have kids with?" Kennedy asks, "All the boys at school are gross. Except for Fitzgerald. He's okay I guess. That doesn't mean I want to have kids with him though."

"The boy who moved here last year?" Meredith asks and Kennedy nods her head.

"He's in my homeroom," Kennedy says as she begins picking at her comforter, "We eat lunch together sometimes. He doesn't push me to talk. He likes silences. And when I do talk, he listens."

Meredith stares at her daughter. It was the most that she'd heard her talk about one of her classmates since Natasha. It was honestly the most she'd heard Kennedy speak in one sitting since Natasha left.

Maybe today was a good day.

Maybe today was the day that she'd get the old Kennedy back.

She smiles at Kennedy as she sets the box on the bed in the space between them. Kennedy looks at it and then back at her mother.

"I'm still not understanding the occasion."

"Maybe if you stopped asking questions and opened the box then you'd know the occasion," Meredith retorts and Kennedy's lips quirk slightly at her mother's remark as she takes the box and takes the top off of it, setting it aside.

Kennedy reaches into the box and pulls out a t-shirt, unfolding it, "Oldest," her brows furrow as she looks at her mother confused, "Oldest what?"

"I don't know," Meredith says, "You're a genius, figure it out."

"Oldest," Kennedy says thoughtfully, "We live in the oldest neighborhood in Springfield, but I doubt that's something we'd celebrate since dad hates the roads. Oldest."