Cursed Realities

10. Tenant Downstairs

Natasha prepared herself for the imminent task. Walking up to Tony, who was visibly concerned about the cosmic proceedings, she sighed and expressed her gratitude. "If I don't come back, just in case, in the worst-case scenario, thank you to all of you guys. Especially you, Mr. Stark."

Tony, attempting to mask his feelings with sarcasm, rolled his eyes, saying, "Finish whatever you have to do with that old man, no funny business. Get back as soon as possible."

She smiled and added, "And...brief this situation to Clint. He will be mad. Really. But you figure out how to handle him." Tony nodded in acknowledgment.

Thor looked at Natasha with a childlike expression, "Lady Natasha..." 

She chuckled, "I'll be back, God of Thunder. Save some Asgardian drink for me." 

Thor laughed loudly in his usual self, "That drink is not for normal mortals. I still don't understand how Captain managed to tolerate its effect." A fond smile played on Thor's face as he reminisced about Steve.

From behind, Dr. Strange's voice broke the moment, "Ms. Romanoff, it's time." She nodded, turning to stand in front of him. 

Dr. Strange swung his fingers to create a dark portal and held her hand, advising, "Remember, you need to prevent him from sinking into water. Don't try to change the natural flow of his life." She nodded, determination in her eyes, as both of them vanished into the swirling portal, leaving the worried faces of her comrades behind. 

Natasha's eyes fluttered open, scanning the unfamiliar room. As her consciousness fully returned, she realized she was in a bed. A poster of Pokémon on the wall caught her eye, and a smile crept across her lips. It was Lila's room, indicating that she was at Clint's place.

She stood up and opened the door, greeted by the sound of Laura's voice from the kitchen. Following the sound, she found Laura working at the stove. Laura looked at her with concern, "Natasha, you up?! Feeling better?"

Natasha was momentarily confused, asking, "What?"

Laura gently touched Natasha's forehead, causing her to wince in pain. Discovering a bandage, Laura sighed, "I told you not to go there alone. You could have gone with Clint."

Natasha's gaze shifted to a photograph on the wall, quickly piecing together the puzzle of this reality. In this universe, she was Laura's sister. The picture captured their graduation day, with Natasha and Laura standing at the front, and Laura's parents, now her own in this reality, proudly behind them. The details came to life, painting a different but heartwarming picture of her life in this alternate world.

A chiming noise pulled Natasha's attention, and she turned to see Lila running towards her, proudly presenting a cotton candy bar. Natasha smiled warmly, gently caressing Lila's hair. Clint, looking at her with concern, inquired, "Are you okay now? Or should we call the doctor again?" 

Natasha shook her head, "I'm fine." After a moment of hesitation, she asked, "Clint, can we talk for a moment?"

Clint nodded, placing the grocery bag on the kitchen counter. He took Lila's hand, and they went to another room, leaving Lila busy with her study table. Natasha, finding a suitable moment, inquired, "What happened to me? It's blurry; I can't remember clearly." She hoped Clint wouldn't catch the cover. 

Clint replied, "You were in the 4th street. Dangerous commotion happens there almost every day. You were there for shopping, and you got hurt. I don't know who he is, though, but I heard from the hospital that a man called an ambulance for you." Natasha gathered the details, trying to reconcile them with her own memories.

She bit her lip before asking her next question, "Do you... um... do you know Steve Rogers?" 

Lila turned around, replying, "He is a loser. Of course, everyone knows him." Natasha was confused, and Lila, engrossed in her sketch, continued, "I want to be a fighter, a boxer. But not like him. He loses every match." 

Clint chuckled, "He is a martial arts fighter, challenges big opponents but loses every match. He is a loser for sure," and he did a small high-five with Lila.

Natasha, feeling a bit defensive, questioned, "Why would he call him a loser?" 

Lila replied, "Because he is rude, Aunty Nat. Even now, he is playing loud music. When dad said to lower the volume, he said a bad word." 

Natasha looked at Clint, "He is a bad influence around here."

 She asked again, "He lives here?" 

Clint narrowed his eyes, but Lila, oblivious, spoke up, "He is the new tenant downstairs."

 Natasha breathed a sigh of relief. Steve lives here! She stood up, but suddenly something flashed in her mind like an electric shock. It wasn't an illusion; it was the memory of Natasha from this timeline. Her eyes widened, and she looked at Clint, "Steve was the one who called the ambulance for me and admitted me to the hospital."

She walked downstairs, finding the small apartment with the blaring pop music. She chuckled inwardly, knowing her Steve would never like this kind of music. She slowly knocked on the door. 

After a minute, the door opened, revealing Steve. Natasha felt her breath catch. Just weeks ago, she had seen his coffin, and now, seeing him in front of her, tall and healthy as usual, was overwhelming.

Steve snapped his fingers in front of her face, "Hello? What?" She shook her head, unable to speak properly. He raised an eyebrow, "Did you lose anything in that crowd yesterday? Then get lost; I didn't see anything." 

He was about to close the door, but she quickly stopped him, "No, I didn't lose anything." She silently added - she got something valuable. "I just wanted to say thank you." And she meant it, for herself and for this Natasha as well.

He narrowed his eyes and mumbled, "F**k off," slamming the door closed. 

She gasped at it. Lila was right; he is so rude.

Natasha saw on TV that Steve Rogers was having a match that evening. She felt a boiling sensation as Lila and Clint made fun, saying Steve would lose this match as well. That afternoon, she didn't move away from the balcony. She booked a ticket to watch Steve's match through Clint somehow. Now, dressed up, she waited for Steve to come out of his apartment downstairs.

On cue, Steve locked his door and walked out. Natasha sprinted up to him, "Steve!" He looked at her when he was about to step into his car. She approached him, "Can you give me a lift to the arena?"

He narrowed his eyes with a sigh, "Which arena?"

She said with a grin, "Where you have the match."

 He rolled his eyes, opening the car door. But she quickly grabbed his hand. His eyes widened at her bold gesture, "What are you doing?!"

 She showed her best puppy eyes, hoping this Steve wouldn't be able to resist her, just like her Steve. He sighed, "Let go." She shook her head. He said with a sigh again, "Let me drive you, ma'am." 

Her heart skipped a beat as he said 'ma'am'. Her hold loosened, and he opened the door and sat behind the wheel, looking at her while rolling down the glass, "Come on." She smiled and ran around to sit beside him. She took a seat, and he drove off.

Before arriving at the arena, he stopped his car at a quiet corner. "Just take the left turn and walk for two minutes; you'll see the entrance of the arena. Now get out," he instructed, his voice carrying a mix of frustration and concern.

She whined in protest, "Why?" Her curiosity laced with a touch of disappointment. 

He closed his eyes for a moment, a sigh escaping his lips, "You don't want your sister to wake up tomorrow to a news headline saying - the biggest loser in martial arts history has been seen with a woman."

As Natasha absorbed his words, she caught a flicker of pain in his eyes. He quickly put on his sunglasses, hiding whatever vulnerability he had exposed. "Get out," he repeated, more sternly this time.

She nodded, feeling a sudden heaviness in the air. Before getting off, she hesitated and looked at him, her gaze sincere, "All the best for your match." There was a brief pause, but he didn't acknowledge her, his gaze fixed straight ahead.

As she stepped out onto the pavement, his car roared away, leaving her with a sense of wistfulness and a longing look in her eyes. The distant sound of the engine faded, leaving her standing on the sidewalk, wondering about the complexities of this alternate reality and the man who seemed so different from the Steve she knew.