Natasha

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The nightmare came again, this one more brutal than the last.

  Yelena was lying dead, in front of her in a pool of blood. Except when Natasha reached out and pulled the sack off of her sister's head, it showed a decaying skull, its holes crawling with insects, bits of skin dangling off.

  Then the half-corpse sprang alive and its bony fingers clawed at Natasha's arms, leaving streaks of blood behind. When it spoke, it was Yelena's trembling voice. "Why didn't you know?" she had screamed. "Why did you trust her, sestra?"

  When Natasha shoved the corpse away and turned around, there was Madame B, but with horrible sharp teeth and black eyes. In her hands was a thrashing Yelena, still alive.

  "Let her go!" Natasha screeched, but when her fingers touched Yelena's, her sister crumbled into dust.

  "Natasha!"

  Echoes.

  "Natasha!"

  Slowly, Yelena's voice slid away to reveal an unfamiliar voice calling her name instead.

  Natasha screamed herself awake. Sweat made her shirt stick to her back. She looked up and saw Steve looking at her with scared, blue eyes.

  Natasha shoved him away and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Her sister's tortured face lingered in her mind, and the guilt that came with it was nearly impossible to bear. But she was a spy, trained to keep her face devoid of any emotion. She forced her voice not to shake. "What are you doing here?"

  "I heard you screaming from my room, so I came to check what's wrong." Steve looked down at his hands sheepishly.

  "There's no need to check," Natasha said harshly. "Nothing's wrong. Now leave."

  Steve obeyed and went for the door. But when he was outside in the hallway, he looked over his shoulder at her. "I'll protect you," he said softly.

  Natasha bristled. "I don't need protecting, least of all from you. You are the one who needs protecting."

  Steve just gave her a sideways smile and walked out of the room.

  That jerk face.

-

"So, Natalia?"

  "It's Natasha." Natasha was being forced out of bed by Clint to have breakfast with Steve's little team who called themselves, 'The Avengers'. Sounds kind of stupid and hopeful, if you asked her.

  "Oh, yeah. Yeah." The nervous guy, who Natasha assumed was Bruce, pushed his glasses up with his middle finger and lifted his eyebrows for a bit.

  "Fair maiden, what brings you here?" Thor asked. He was a big man, and a God. Natasha couldn't believe her eyes and ears when Clint had introduced them to her. A God, out of all things.

  "I would rather not talk about that." Natasha went back to nibbling at her sandwich, and glanced at Steve's way. "Tvoy drug v opasnosti."

  "What are you talking about?" Tony looked confused and slightly disbelief. "Russian? Clint said you speak Latin. Is that true?"

  "Cur non audient te?" Natasha responded.

  "Wow. I do not understand that."

  They all ate in silence for a while, with Clint playing with his chopsticks. He had his legs on her chair, behind her back, and she had one on his.

  "Um, you have something in your hair," Steve said, although a little hesitantly. "Will you mind if I help take it out?"

  Natasha pushed Clint's legs off her chair and he gave an indignant huff, pushing hers off his chair as well. "No. I can take it out myself, thank you very much."

  Steve leaned forward to do it anyway, and Natasha found herself staying really still, as though rooted to the chair, as she felt his fingers gently pull at her hair. She silently scolded herself and surpressed a growl.

  "There." Steve slapped his hands together, but Natasha grabbed his wrist and dragged him off his chair, making him stumble around.

  She locked the door to his room behind them and pushed him against the wall. "You are not safe here, Steven."

  "Steve," he said, still in a daze. His eyes flickered to her lips, and back to her face. "Call me Steve."

  "I don't care, Rogers." Natasha grabbed him by the elbow and shook. "Please. You have no idea how dangerous they are. If they find you, they'll kill you."

  "I-I don't get it, Natasha." Steve placed his hands on her shoulders. "What's wrong?"

  Natasha plucked his hands away from her shoulders. "Russia. The Red Room. The Widows." Her mind whirled. Her leg started to throb, and her scarred cheek turned heavy. An image of Yelena in her mind. Her sister, whom she had killed. "Please, just get out of here."

  Steve's eyebrows met each other in a worried furrow, and Natasha held her breath as she felt his thumb on her cheek. "The 'they' you're talking about...That bad, huh?"

  Natasha stepped away from him, wiping away a tear that had escaped unknown. She could still feel the ghost of his touch on her skin. "Just...get out of here."

  "Why do you want me to leave so badly?" Steve asked, taking her wrist when she went for the door. "I thought you didn't care."

  Natasha swallowed. "You're...You're Clint's friend."

  Steve let her go.

  She rubbed her palms together. "Now go."

  Steve did. He left.

  Natasha didn't know what she was feeling at that moment. When his skin came in contact with hers, she felt like she couldn't breathe. She shook that thought away as she grabbed a dark hoodie from the wardrobe. It was way oversized, as usual, but she put it on anyway. She stuffed her hair inside the hood, opened the window, and jumped out.

 

 

 

 

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