𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗜𝗥𝗘𝗡 | 𝗡. 𝗥𝗢𝗠𝗔𝗡𝗢𝗙𝗙

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𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡 2010

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐙𝐨𝐧𝐞 3

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Say what you wanted, but rainfall was the most powerful, soothing natural phenomenon that could exist.

Most people hated it because, to them, it was sad, wet, and dreary. They stared at dark, all-consuming clouds with a sense of impending doom and cursed the weather out of inconvenience or discomfort, or perhaps both. They didn't see it for the gift that it was, too self-conceited to rejoice in nature's comfort. 

But, when it rained, what was alive flourished. Saplings and flower buds drew water from the soil, rivers and lakes replenished, a blanket of refreshment enabling reprieve from the heat of the sun. 

This was when the sky and the earth met—an exchange of life, of what made living on earth possible. 

It was mesmerizing. Grounding. With rain came clarity, washing away the dirt and sweat until what lied underneath it was uncovered, seen in its truest form.

There was no hiding from yourself when those first droplets touched your face. Tears may become undefined, but there was no denying where they came from.

Natasha Romanoff stepped out under the new spring rain, thick droplets soaking her hair and her clothes, breathing life into her skin, a sigh escaping her lips. 

Like this, she felt seen and heard in ways she herself could not see or hear within. Like this, she no longer felt alone and unnoticed in this big world where it was easy to overlook those with little significance. 

Though, she was not truly alone. At the sound of her name, she opened her eyes, turning back to the jet she'd just departed. Agent Mason, her flier, leaned against the side of the hatch, watching her with this amused, expectant look that made her want to roll her eyes. 

Though, giving into his little game, her lips turned up in the beginnings of a smirk, the one that was almost mysterious and inviting at the same time, the one meant to tease more than it was to express. Shifting her duffel into her right hand, she gave him a little wave before walking down the landing strip past other aircrafts, the pummel of rain on her body ceasing as she crossed beneath an overhang, her stride sure as her body took control, well in tune with this walk after her many missions with her best friend and supervisor, Clint Barton.

Only now, for the first time since her defection to S.H.I.E.L.D., she was to do the walk alone. 

She could feel the moment Mason's eyes left her. It was nothing new—she was far too familiar with the weight of a man's gaze for it to be anything but expected—but it had become somewhat of a thing in the last few months of working with the other agent. 

Even Clint had noticed, and he wasn't always too bright when it came to these matters. But, it showed when the two of them were sitting in a quinjet with Mason in the cockpit and most of his attention and playful remarks were directed towards Natasha.