Chapter 7
Problems
Claire's POV
>>The next morning>>
I glared frustratedly at my reflection in the mirror. Not only was I mortified I was so very frustrated. Why you ask? I tried to comb out my hair and now the comb is stuck. There wasn't any way for me to get it out. I'm good with guns but hair isn't exactly my area of expertise.
Finally giving up I did the last thing I would do in a situation like this. I called for help. Ready to accept my embarrassment I called my mother name.
"Natasha!!" I shouted. A few seconds later there was a response.
"What?" She shouted back.
"I have a problem," I said before heaving a big sigh.
"What kind of problem?" She asked shouting back to me.
"One that you can't fix with a gun. Could you come here?" I asked. I heard footsteps and my door opened. "In here," I called from my bathroom. When she entered the bathroom her first expression looked surprised then she tried to stifle a laugh.
"What happened?" She asked. Observing the comb stuck in my hair.
"I don't know, bad hair day?- look could you please get it out of my hair without having to use scissors?" I asked impatiently.
"Not exactly my area of expertise but we'll see." I knew we had things in common.
There was no clock in the pale pink bathroom though it felt as if an hour had passed. It looked like she was getting it out but for all I know she could be making it worse.
"Nat?" I heard from outside my bedroom. I mentally cursed. It's bad enough one master assassin has seen me like this, another one would surely make this situation #1 on my "Most Embarrassing Moments" list...not that I have one or anything.
"In here," She answered. I tried my best not to show any emotion towards his presence, but my annoyed expression was pretty clear.
"Whoa, what happened here?" He asked touching the comb that could barely be seen through the sea of brown hair.
"The comb is stuck," I said with clear frustration in my voice.
"Do you want me to find the scissors?" He said no doubt getting ready to laugh. Alarmed, my eyes widened.
"No! There will be no scissors near my hair!" I said with a hint of fear in my voice. I hissed at the pulling of my hair. "Ow, ow, ow, ow, OW TASHA JEEZ!!" Im glad I caught myself before saying "mom." That would have caused some explaining and if it's not about defensive or offensive battle strategies then I'm not exactly an expert. With one last tug my mother was able to get the stupid cheap comb out of my hair.
"With all the money SHIELD has, they got me a cheap comb?" I asked incredulously, to no one in particular.
"You can say that again," I visibly tensed up not realizing my mother was still in the bathroom, whereas my father had left. I sighed, relaxing and, looking at the hot mess in the mirror that unfortunately, was me.
"Can you help?" I asked my mother still mortified that two master assassins had to witness me struggling to get a stupid comb out of my hair.
"Sure, I am supposedly your mother after all" she joked. Boy if only she knew how much of a mother she really was to me. In fact I'm pretty sure there's a percentage.
"Right well mother could you please help me with this thing on top of my head?" I said referring to the horrific hair on my head. She chuckled a bit and picked up the comb walking out of the bathroom. I followed and she had me sit on the bed whereas she worked her magic and put my hair into something ten times more passable than what it looked 20 minutes ago.
"Thanks, you're a life saver," I saw her wince slightly and couldn't pretend I didn't notice."What's wrong?" I asked concerned.
"A 'life saver' isn't necessarily something I get called a lot" she said honestly. I ping of guilt hit me.
"Why not? You're a role model to me," I replied also in honesty.
"Maybe you should find a different one because I'm not someone you should look up to." The tone in her voice made me realize what she meant and I was quick to correct her.
"History and I don't mix. What's in the past stays in the past. I look at you and see a strong, smart and beautiful woman who doesn't care what people think." She glanced at me before grinning.
"You certainly have a way with words Ms. Valentine," She said before leaving the room and closing the door behind her.
"If only it were that simple," I mumbled pulling my knees to my chest.
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The Daughter
FanfictionClaire Valentine isn't exactly who she says she is. Her actual name is Claire Barton, but she is an actual SHIELD agent. Claire was kidnapped and has been trained as harshly as possible by a woman, her training officer in the red room, who she would...
