The Nightingale

Chapter Twenty-Eight

With the door now closed between them, Natasha dropped the clothes John had given her onto his bed before stepping out of the gown, resting it across the top of the chest at the foot of the bed, along with the corset and the slip she had on underneath. As she pulled John's clothes around her body, tightening the waist of the pants with pins she found in the sewing tools that had been left in the room, she made a note to herself to try to take in the pants later so they wouldn't hang so loosely, at least until she could get pants of her own. After pulling the shirt over her head and tucking it into the waist of the pants she crawled to the center of John's bed, crossing her legs as she reached up to work the pins out of her hair. Each strand that she let fall down her back brought relief from tension that she hadn't been aware was forming at the back of her head from how tightly the curls had been wound at the nape of her neck.

With all the pins sitting on the blanket by her feet, Natasha ran her hands through her hair before falling back onto the blankets and reached for her sketchbook, which was, to her surprise, still resting on top of the blankets of John's bed. Holding it above her head, she flipped through the images, wondering if John had looked through them in her absence. Wanting to know now, she set the book back down on the bed and exited John's room, walking slowly out towards the deck. She paused for a moment by the stairs next to her, looking at as John's crew, a mix of familiar faces and new men, moving around the ship as it cut through the dark waters. John wasn't visible from where she stood, presumably above her at the ship's helm, but Natasha could see Alexander standing by the edge of the deck towards her left, and she knew she would have to wait to talk to John again. She crossed the space between where she had been standing and where Alexander was, dodging the men around her working, until she was standing at his side, leaning over the ship's edge, looking down at the water churning beneath them.

"Is everything alright?" Natasha looked up at Alexander, finding that he wasn't looking at her as he spoke, but his eyes were still cast down at the water. She could see in his profile that his jaw was tense, his shoulders squared, and his hands clasped tightly together in front of him.

"Yes," she responded, not taking her eyes off of him, waiting for him to look at her. She suspected that he was upset that she had gone after John, and she couldn't help but wonder now how much Alexander cared for her that would cause him to react so angrily when she was with John. "I needed to ask him about his deal with Easton, Alexander." If he had looked angry before, he now looked murderous.

"And did you find out what you wanted?" His words came through clenched teeth, his hands wringing together angrily as he still refused to look at her.

"Alexander," Natasha sighed, reaching over to rest one of her hands on top of his to calm them. As she did so, she found her next words freezing on the tip of her tongue as her hands landed on Alexander's clenched fists, and underneath her fingers she felt the rough and raised remnants of scabs across his knuckles and fingers. She pulled Alexander's hands apart with her own, looking between his hands and his face, picturing the injuries on John's face as she looked at him.

"What happened?" She asked, pulling Alexander's hands flat in her own as she looked up at his face, waiting for his answer. At her words, he pulled his hands out of hers roughly.

"Nothing," he answered roughly, shifting his body further away from hers. Natasha reached up and pulled on his arm, trying to force his body to angle back in her direction, trying to force him to finally look at her.

"Alexander," she persisted, pulling hard on his arm so he moved backwards slightly, but instead of finally looking at her, he instead turned further away from her. He pulled his arm away from her once again, more forcefully this time, causing her to stumble backwards as her hands swung towards her sides and she watched Alexander begin to cross the deck towards his room. Natasha, refusing to let this go, followed him after a moment's hesitation, ignoring the way some of the crew glanced now in her direction, catching his door just before he slammed it shut in her face.