Elysium (Natasha Romanoff)

Six

Elias

I stand nervously at Natasha's front door, a single yellow flower in my hand as I wait for her to answer.

She'd locked herself in her house ever since we went to the Archives and that was four days ago. I'd hoped once she read the files about her past lives that maybe she'd come to see me. That she'd remember me. But after each day passed that hope had disappeared and was replaced with worry.

What if she never remembered me? Never remembered us? It had never taken this long before.

I'd never asked that question before. I'd always assumed that once she got here she'd remember just like she had in each of her lives once we met again.

But she hadn't. And I'd been too afraid to tell her. I'd never been afraid before. Not about her and I at least.

As I stare at her door another thought worms it's way in; what if she did remember and she didn't love me anymore?

That had also never occurred to me. We've been in love for eons, in each life we'd always found each other, had lived and in her case, died together. But maybe now that she was here, she was tired of me. Tired of us.

If that was the case, then I'd wasted the last one hundred years of my life waiting.

The thought nearly crushes me and I sigh, getting ready to turn away when the door is pulled open and suddenly I'm face to face with green pools that stare directly into my soul.

She's had the same eyes in each life. While her other features had changed, her eyes never have. And as I stare into them I realize that even if she doesn't remember me, even if she doesn't want me, waiting for her would never be a waste.

Waiting for her had, and always would be, my privilege.

"What do you want?" She asks, her voice dull and low.

I clear my throat and force a grin, "hello to you too Red."

She crosses her arms, "what do you want Elias?"

I'm surprised at her voice, at how tired she sounds and looks. She's paler than normal, her eyes glossy and there's dark circles under them. Her nails, or what I can see of them, are bitten down to the quick and there's dried blood around one of them.

There's only two reasons why she bites her nails. One is when she's stressed and the other is when she's scared.

"Are you alright?" I ask her softly, forcing myself not to reach for her. Not to pull her to me, to comfort her and protect her from whatever demons are haunting her.

She shifts slightly as she lies, "I'm fine. What do you want?"

She always was a bad liar.

As much as I want to push it, I don't. Instead I hold out the flower, "I brought you this."

Surprise flashes across her face, "why?"

"Because everyone deserves flowers," I reply as I offer her the flower again.

She takes it reluctantly as she says, "is this all you wanted? I'm busy."

"Um.. I had hoped that maybe you'd want to go to the fair tonight," I tell her. "With me." I run my sweaty palms on my pants as I wait for her to answer. I don't remember ever being this nervous to ask her out before. Well, except that first time. I'd been so nervous I'd puked after she said yes.

"I don't date," she tells me. "Especially people I don't know or trust."

"Not a date Red," I say as I try and hide my disappointment. I had absolutely meant it as a date. "Just one friend try to get another friend out of the house she's been locked in for four days."

Her brow furrows, "has it been that long?"

"Yeah, you didn't notice?" I ask her worriedly.

"No.. I've been busy," she admits.

"Reading about your past?" She nods slightly and I ask, "how's that going?"

She sighs, "slowly. It's a lot of information and it's counting down to my first life instead of starting there. Eleven lives is a lot to sort through."

"What one are you learning about now?" I ask, scarcely able to breathe. We had been on her eighth life the last time I'd seen her.

"Nine," she tells me tiredly. "Apparently I was some lady named Joan Applegate who was an elementary teacher during the Great Depression."

Of course she was a teacher, she's always loved kids. "I could see that," I tell her. "You seem like someone who'd be great with kids."

Pain flashes across her face for a brief moment and then is gone. Did I say something wrong? Maybe she didn't like kids anymore, or worse, maybe she'd left one behind when she died.

Behind me in the square I can hear the band starting up as the fair starts, "so what do you say Red? Be my 'not a date' date to the fair?"

"I don't really.."

"What?" I ask. "Like to have fun? Like to eat fried foods until you barf?"

"You make it sound so enticing," she says sarcastically.

I laugh, "well if that doesn't make you want to come, then you should know that I'm playing in the band and while everyone says that I'm fantastic, I would love an impartial critic there just in case my head gets too big." I shift my head as I speak, letting it get slightly bigger with each word until I look like a stick figure with a balloon for a head. "What do you say?" I ask asking in a squeaky high voice. "Come on Red, you know you want to."

"I'll go if you go back to normal," she says in mild horror.

I breath out and my head shrinks back to normal as I grin, "you should know by now that I'm anything but normal."

"Yeah I'm starting to gather that," she mutters. "Wait here, I'll be out in a minute."

She closes the door and I turn my back on, not even fighting the large smile that dominates my face as I wait excitedly for my 'not a date' date with her.