Natasha woke up in the familiar, disorienting darkness of the room. Her heart pounded in her chest, and the sting of tears filled her eyes. Dr. Strange sat in the same chair, a stoic figure amidst the shadows, waiting for her to acknowledge his presence.
Her voice trembled as she spoke, the anguish evident in her words. "How was that possible? He survived the first time, so why would he die? In front of me again? Just to test my helplessness?"
Dr. Strange, stern and disappointed, looked at her from his chair. "Ms. Romanoff, how can you do this?" Dr. Strange's voice held a mixture of anger and concern. "You changed the reality of Princess Natasha of Romanovan. You broke her marriage alliance with the prince of Nojareena. That wasn't your life. You were just there to fix something, not to create another branch alternate reality."
Natasha's realization hit her like a wave. In her desperation to rewrite her own narrative and be with Steve, she had meddled with the lives of others. She had altered the course of events for Princess Natasha, affecting not just her fate but the delicate balance of the alternate reality.
The room felt suffocating as Natasha understood the consequences of her actions. The anguish of her own desires had inadvertently caused pain and upheaval for others. Princess Natasha, unknowingly, had her destiny altered for Natasha's selfish reasons.
Natasha's sigh carried the weight of newfound determination, a spark of resilience flickering in her eyes. She had uncovered a common thread woven through the tapestry of the three realities she had traversed. "12 days. Steve dies on the 12th day. We started this mission on the 12th day of dying. This is the clue," she asserted, the words hanging in the air like a mantra of significance. Dr. Strange, a bastion of knowledge in the arcane arts, nodded approvingly.
"You need to find the exact time," he advised, recognizing the critical nature of precision in altering the course of events. Natasha nodded resolutely, her mind already delving into the intricacies of time and destiny.
As Dr. Strange looked at her with a sympathetic gaze, acknowledging the emotional toll this quest took on her, he offered a glimmer of hope. "Ms. Romanoff, I know it must be hard on you. Seeing him die in your grasp while you're unable to prevent it. But once we're done with it, I promise you're gonna get something in return." His words carried a solemn pledge, a reassurance that there would be a reward for the sacrifices endured.
With a newfound determination burning in her eyes, Natasha accepted the challenge. The mission was clearer now, a race against time with a specific focus on the 12th day. The promise of a different outcome fueled her resolve.
Dr. Strange, the master of portals and dimensions, conjured another ethereal gateway. As it shimmered into existence, Natasha and Dr. Strange stepped into its enigmatic embrace. The portal, a conduit between realities, swallowed them whole, transporting them to yet another juncture in the complex tapestry of time and space.
Natasha found herself abruptly awakened by a knock, disoriented and trying to piece together the fragments of this new reality. Her surroundings revealed a bustling environment where people were engrossed in various tasks. A middle-aged woman, evidently concerned, addressed her, "Ms. Romanoff? Are you okay?"
Natasha nodded, still grappling with the sudden shift in her circumstances. The woman continued, "It's time for your class. Section 2A." As the words sunk in, Natasha's eyes fell upon an English literature book on her desk. Realization dawned – she was a teacher. A smile formed on her lips as she responded, "Thank you." The woman reciprocated the smile and departed, leaving Natasha to absorb the reality of her role.
Glancing at her ID card on the desk, she confirmed her identity – Natasha Romanoff, teacher in English and Russian. Her familiarity with traversing different realities prompted caution; she needed to be mindful of her words and actions. This wasn't her life; she was living someone else's existence. Natasha picked up the English literature book from the desk and stepped out, embarking on a search for Classroom 2A.
In the bustling hallway, Natasha's eyes swiftly identified Section 2A. Stepping inside, the students greeted her with a lively chorus of "good morning." Responding in kind, Natasha made her way to the table positioned in front of a whiteboard against the wall.
Observing her surroundings, her gaze fell upon a board indicating that this was a 7th standard class. With a subtle acknowledgment of the unfamiliarity, she delved into her lesson.
Initially navigating the new reality with a touch of awkwardness, Natasha soon found herself seamlessly embracing the role of an English and Russian teacher. Much like her experiences in other realities, the familiarity of the task asserted itself, and she conducted the class with surprising natural ease.
As the lesson progressed, she couldn't help but notice a boy in the middle of the classroom who seemed unusually short among his other classmates around him. A closer look revealed that it was Steve, existing in this reality before the super-soldier serum altered his physique.
Steve's scrawny and fragile form stood out in stark contrast to the muscular Captain America she was accustomed to. His innocent eyes met hers, momentarily holding her gaze.
Natasha felt a surge of emotions as she realized that, in this reality, Steve had yet to undergo the transformative process. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, she found herself unable to look away, captivated by the sight of Steve in his unaltered state.
With a swift mental adjustment, Natasha regained her composure and continued with her teaching duties, all the while stealing glances at Steve throughout the class.
Her purest desire to witness the unaltered Steve Rogers had been fulfilled. It felt like a moment of childish joy, akin to the sentiment Steve often expressed – that only Peggy knew the Steve Rogers from the Brooklyn streets, while the world knew Captain America.
In this reality, Natasha had a glimpse of that unadulterated version, and it granted her a sense of equality with Peggy. She chuckled inwardly at the thought, mentally rolling her eyes, and concluded her class, cherishing the unique experience of seeing Steve in his true self.
The lunch bell rang, echoing through the corridors and signaling the start of the much-anticipated break. Natasha, having finished her class, stepped out into the bustling hallway.
The sight of students eagerly streaming out of classrooms brought a sense of normality, a stark contrast to the harsh training and torment she was accustomed to in the Red Room. Here, she found herself in a place where children were studying for a promising and peaceful future.
Standing near the entrance of the classroom, Natasha absentmindedly observed the lively scene of kids hurrying towards the school canteen. A feeling of warmth and nostalgia washed over her as she marveled at the innocence and simplicity of this reality. The contrast between this world and the ones she had experienced was profound, leaving a subtle smile on her face.
As she stood lost in her thoughts, a boy rushed into the hallway, calling out to someone named Steve. The urgency in his voice caught Natasha's attention. She turned to see the boy addressing Steve, who seemed to be lingering in the classroom with his head bowed in disappointment.
Unable to ignore the palpable distress on Steve's face, Natasha couldn't resist getting involved. Walking into the room, she inquired, "What happened?" Her gaze moved between the two boys, and upon closer inspection, she recognized the other boy as Steve's best friend – Bucky.
Bucky's sigh carried a weight of familiarity, and Natasha's concern deepened as he explained the source of Steve's distress. Lance and Ramlow, the troublemakers of this school, had targeted Steve once again, this time stealing his lunch box. The injustice of it fueled Natasha's anger – how dare they bully someone as kind-hearted as Steve!
Her determined inquiry, "What? Where are they?" was met with Bucky's nod towards the canteen. Natasha's resolve solidified; she wasn't about to let these bullies get away with tormenting Steve. "Let's go and teach them a lesson," she declared firmly, her eyes reflecting a mix of protective fury and determination.
Steve, sensing the brewing storm, seemed torn between gratitude and concern. "Ms. Natasha!" he protested, perhaps fearing the consequences of involving her in the matter.
However, Bucky, taking the lead, marched ahead. "Yes, Ms. Natasha. Please, let's go," he affirmed, displaying a level of trust and respect for Natasha that seemed to transcend the usual student-teacher dynamic.
The trio advanced towards the canteen, Steve trailing reluctantly behind. Natasha's brisk pace and unwavering gaze conveyed a message of defiance – she was not going to tolerate injustice, especially when it came to someone like Steve.
YOU ARE READING
Cursed Realities
FanfictionNatasha's anguish erupts into words she can never take back. "I wish you would have died being stuck under the ice!" Her voice pierces the air, fueled by a bottomless pit of resentment. In her clenched hand, the dark brown tube, seemingly innocuous...
