Natasha Romanoff x Daughter Oneshots

Dusted pt. 2

Age: 16/21
Warnings: Depression
Word count: 2136

Five years. That's how long it's been since Natasha has held you in her arms.

She spent the those years in your bedroom, rarely leaving. She cried constantly, her eyes no longer the bright green they've always been. No, they were always swollen and bloodshot. The light in her eyes dulled completely, not a single hint of happiness.

She would curl up in your covers, holding your childhood stuffed animal close to her chest. It still smelled like you, the newborn baby smell that never left. Natasha didn't know what it was, but she was glad you hadn't lost it. That scent meant the world to her.

But it didn't help her move on. Not one bit. In fact, it made the "moving on" process harder, almost impossible.

She would see you, sitting on the floor playing with your toys as if it were actually happening. But she would blink and the vision was gone in an instant.

Just like you.

Worry was consuming the remaining Avengers who stayed in the compound. Steve would cook a nice meal every day, and save a plate just for Natasha. At first, she refused to eat. She felt as though she didn't deserve to eat such a nice home cooked meal, especially when your last meal was microwaveable pasta.

But with both Steve and Bruce constantly on Natasha's back about not eating, she finally gave in and only accepted her meals in your bedroom.

She wasn't ready to leave that room. Not yet.

Five long years was all it took for everyone to accept their loved one's deaths. Half the world was gone, dead, never coming back.

That's where the motivation started.

The remaining Avengers sympathized with Natasha, they couldn't even imagine the loss of a child. But grieving the way Natasha was worried them endlessly. It wasn't healthy for her and they feared she would end her life just to see you again.

Not that it hadn't crossed Natasha's mind.

But five years was long enough to grieve over you daily. Yes, they understand there would be days where she needed to mourn, but they also needed Natasha to help herself.

"Nat, she wouldn't want you to live like this." Bruce said as he placed a plate on the cluttered beside table. Your whole room was a mess, cluttered with dishes and clothes that Natasha wore but never washed. Her hair was a mess, tangled and greasy.

And the room smelt absolutely disgusting.

"She's coming back," Natasha whispered, "You'll see."

She was in constant denial, her mind practically tricking her to think that you were just away on vacation.

"Natasha..."

"She's coming back!" She snapped as she curled herself deeper into your blankets.

Bruce and Steve had tried multiple attempts at getting Natasha to understand that you were in fact gone.

It took weeks, even months but slowly and surely they were getting through to her. Not in the way they wanted, but at least she had left your bedroom.

The two men were left with their mouths wide open when they saw the woman showered and dressed, walking down the hall as if it was any other day.

"What?" Natasha snapped. "Isn't this what you guys wanted all along?"

"I-I think we're uh..." Bruce stumbled over his words, a bit afraid to admit.