Shadows and Secrets (A MCU FanFic)

Chapter 21: Meddlers

trigger warning: references to self-harm that may be offensive or upsetting to some readers

Natasha's POV

Nat didn't want to hurt Marjorie.

She understood why Bucky had advised her against doing this.

Marjorie might react badly to old wounds reopening.

Nat didn't want to be the cause of Marjorie's pain.

But what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

And Nat wanted—needed—to know. She could help Marjorie, but only if she knew what she was helping with.

So that was why Nat canceled today's planned training session and was standing outside of a cold and forbidding two-story house with boarded windows.

She had searched into Marjorie's father, Caleb Zachary Davis, and found that he had moved to this remote, less grand (Marjorie's family seemed to be at the bottom of the high-class level) house shortly after Marjorie's mom, Grace Bethany Davis, died. Apparently he never left the house.

Nat walked up the crumbling stairs and rapped her fist on the door loudly. It took four rounds of knocking before she was answerd.

"Go away," came a sharp, nasal, voice from behind the door. "No soliciting. Can't you see the sign?"

It was true. There was a "No Soliciting" sign.

"I'm here to ask some questions about Grace Davis," Nat said confidently.

After a lengthy pause that had Nat wondering if the man had gone out a backdoor, he spoke. "I have no connection to that woman."

Interesting.

"Sir, I have reason to believe otherwise."

"Oh, yeah?" he said nastily.

"Are you, or are you not, Caleb Davis?"

The man paused again, and Nat could hear a trickle of fear in his voice when he spoke again. "Who told you that?"

Nat ignored the idiotic question.

"I would like to ask you some questions, if you're willing." A pure courtesy. Nat would ask, and find the answers, even if he didn't talk. Interrogating was one of her specialties.

"...What do you want to know?"

"Can I come in?" Interrogations usually went better face to face.

The man paused, and then Nat heard the sliding and scraping of metal on metal.

The door swung open, and a middle-aged man stood in the doorway, with a surprised expression on. He was in his forties, but he looked older, aged beyond his years. He was wearing a dark gray T-shirt and sweatpants, and looked like he hadn't had a shower in weeks. "You're just a kid!"

Nat walked past him into the house. She raised an eyebrow. "Nice place you got here."

Yeah, not so much.

There was almost no light; all the windows were blacked-out, not letting in the bright morning sun. The furniture was old and peeling, and there were several scratches on the floor; he had probably pushed the moldy armchair against the door. The door had several padlocks, deadbolts, and chains.

Overkill, much? But, seriously, who is that going to keep out? I could get past that in three seconds...

"Hey, kid," the man said angrily. "Why are you bothering me? I have things to do, you know."