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So near yet so far.
Weak emergency lights illuminated the dark corridor.
She was aware that sooner or later, she would die. Spies had never lived happily ever after. It concerned everyone, without exception. Even Natasha Romanoff, who occupied the position of the highest spy in the ranks of S.H.I.E.L.D.. She did not expect a different end for her person.
Nevertheless, she was not prepared for death to come for her. She was not ready to leave her team. Her odd family, composed of people who were never ne plus ultras. Natasha knew she was probably the only person from the Avengers who considered them as a family. Tony was trying to figure things out with Pepper, but she was always there to support him. Steve had Sam and, if everything went smoothly, Bucky. Bruce was nowhere to be seen for a year, and neither was Thor, who probably spent time in Asgard with his brother, Loki. There was also Clint, her best friend. But Natasha knew he had his own family to take care of. She was not a fool to think she could legally become a part of his family. At the New Avengers Facility, there was also Wanda, along with Vision. However, the spy still kept her distance, remembering the painful event from their first confrontation. And Vision… he was just odd.
Nonetheless, at the end she had no one but them. Natasha did not want to die, yet she had to accept it.
Her loud scream crashed against the walls of the corridor once again. Her face was directed towards the ceiling, as she was lying on a stretcher-car, but oddly, it did not seem like S.H.I.E.L.D.’s anymore.
Natasha was in the Red Room Academy.
Familiar peeling green paint made her dizzy. The building clearly did not have a renovation for a long time. Barrel vault of the basement seemed just the same as she remembered it from the day of her ceremony. She could not breathe, being under the impression that walls were going to collapse on her aching body any minute. Natasha breathed heavily, letting another scream escape her mouth. The tears on her cheeks felt peculiar and hot, acting like they were lava, burning deep flumes in her skin.
"The ceremony is necessary, for your place in the world."
Natasha’s heart was in her mouth as soon as she heard the recognisable Russian voice.
A wave of nausea flooded her when her eyes spotted a well-known figure, immaculately curled bun at the top of her head and a gray smart suit clinging her slender body. The woman looked at her with a mocking smirk lurking in the corners of her narrow mouth. Natasha could not look at her. She was not able to look at the person who had taken everything from her.
Madame B was the only person in the world Natasha Romanoff was ever afraid of.
"You will thank us, Natalia." The voice of her former babysitter could be heard from the distance now.
"NO!" she exclaimed.
Natasha attempted to raise her right hand, but it was steadily prevented by leather straps that seemed to tighten around her wrists more and more with every passing minute.
Sharply, she was back in a dark corridor, illuminated by weak emergency lights. Her breathing accelerated with each passing moment and sweat covered her whole body, mixing with compo of dust. She could feel her muscles trembling in agony. Natasha’s mind was shutting down, causing her to lose control of herself.
"STOP IT!" another cry came out of her mouth, in Russian.
Suddenly, she felt a hand on hers, squeezing it tightly. It was smooth and soft. Feminine.
“Natasha, calm down, you’re safe. You’re safe now.” She heard someone’s voice next to her ear.
But Natasha did not understand the words said to her.
Shoulder-length hair brushed against her nose and cheek for a second. A transparent oxygen mask was placed on her face. Voraciously, she was taking deep breaths, fighting with an unexpected disposition to go to sleep.
The last thing she remembered was a black hole that sucked her into another nightmare.
She was drowning.
It was the third day of Natasha’s unconsciousness. Maria sipped on her black coffee as she checked her e-mails, sitting by the redhead’s desk.
Natasha’s room at the New Avengers Facility was lovely. It was quite spacious, but also not too big. She did not like the splendour, even though Tony warranted that money was not a problem. Maria still remembered the chagrin on Stark’s face when Romanoff kindly refused his offer of mounting an extraordinary wardrobe for her Black Widow jumpsuits.
A purely normal looking king-sized bed stood in the middle of the room, sunbeams dancing on a gray duvet, coming through panoramic windows that were not curtained now. The view from her room was delightful and Maria often found herself staring out of the large pane. The scenery was immense and peaceful, aloof from urban commotion. In front of the bed stood a massive bookstand, chockful with either English or Russian titles. Maria wondered which language Natasha preferred to read in. Was it her mother tongue, full of character, and one that Maria did not know how to read? Or maybe English, a language that she adopted to be her natal tongue? A white, modern wardrobe took up space just right next to the bookcase. Maria had been neatly folding Natasha’s laundry for the past few days, so the interior was well known to her now. There was also the desk made out of a light, wooden board that Maria was sitting by next to Natasha’s bed. Her laptop was displaced to the right corner so the commander could put her own, along with the secret organisation’s records and a cup of coffee on the desk.
Maria yawned and idly looked through S.H.I.E.L.D.’s folders she had access to as a commander. She did that everyday, for three days straight, waiting for Natasha to wake up.
They were not best friends but both of them respected one another. Maria often let herself think back about the times when they were teammates, spending much more time together. Now, they briefly saw each other in the Avengers Facility corridors. There was business she had to take care of as a commander and the redhead was dexterously handling her tasks as a spy.
Maria knew Natasha ever since her first day at S.H.I.E.L.D.’s headquarters when Clint Barton first brought her in. She remembered it like it was yesterday.
Winter was colder than ever. Maria Hill was a field agent back then, fresh out of the army. When she first saw Natasha, she could not believe the rumors about the famous Black Widow were ever true. The woman, surrounded by security, looked nothing like the pictures Maria had seen several times in documents. The redhead was obviously young but it could have only been told about her body. It was her eyes that betrayed everything. Green was not expressive like she remembered from the photos and her lips did not curl in a pungnacious smirk anymore. Natalia Alianovna Romanova was subdued.
It took them months to actually convince her to join S.H.I.E.L.D. and make a good usage of her unusual skill set.
The beginning was difficult. For the first few weeks, Natasha did not trust anyone, with a small exception for Barton. Maria could not deny that her person did intrigue her back then. It still did. However, at that time, Maria Hill was still in her twenties, young and curious. She often tried to initiate conversation between them, with a feeble fallout, owing to Natasha who did not want to make free with anyone. Especially with Maria.
Oh yes, she still remembered when the red haired spy, with a feisty smirk on her lips, tripped her in the corridor right in front of Director Nicholas Fury. Since that time, for many years, the two agents did not get along, conspicuously ignoring each other, or, in Natasha’s care, mumbling snarky comments under one’s breath.
However, it were yesterday’s news, and Maria was pleasant with the fact that they had Natasha on their side for over 10 years now. Incredibly talented and smart, but most importantly, willing to make the world a better, safer place. Natasha was uncontained. Determination on her face was visible whenever something did not work out for her. Giving up was not Natasha’s style.
“So do not give up, Romanoff,” Maria murmured to herself, looking towards the redhead’s direction.
She was sleeping now, her plump raspberry lips slightly parted, sucking in the air. Maria had never noticed how long Natasha’s eyelashes were until now. They shadowed her velvet, rosy cheeks, that only three days ago were covered with dust, smeared mascara, and tears. Long, wavy red hair framed her petite face, ends straggled on the pillow her head rest on.
The woman looked normal, just like nothing had ever happened. Natasha did not have any visible injuries except for a few spots on her arms, caused by hypos. However, it was her mind that shouldered the biggest damage. The woman was trapped in her own mind with the demons of her nightmares. Maria remembered moments, especially at night, when Natasha’s body would be trembling, sweat covering her. At that time, she would sit on the redhead’s pelvis, her thighs firmly tightening on the other woman’s hips, and gripping her wrists on both sides of her head. Natasha would scream at first, attempting to buck Maria off her body, to thereafter break down in tears. The commander would gently stroke her hair, whispering the same sentence over and over again.
“Everything will be okay, Tasha”.
It took them two days to trace their best agent’s location, on the behalf of a destroyed transmitter.
When they found her half-conscious in an abandoned department store in Serbia, Maria was shattered. Natasha’s mission to infiltrate a group of local terrorists must have gone terribly wrong. She could not understand how it could have happened. Natasha always had the world by the tail. There was no place for such a thing as failure in her life.
And yet, there she was, unconscious in her own bed.
As stated by the doctors, it was a miracle Natasha was able to breathe on her own. As soon as she was transported to S.H.I.E.L.D.’s clandestine hospital, medics unanimously proclaimed that Natasha had been narcotized with an unidentified drug for days. Wherethrough that, no one knew what to expect when the spy would ultimately wake up.
Maria could not recall the last time she felt so powerless.
She and Natasha were not close and yet, she cared about her like no one else. Outwardly, she kept her commander’s face whenever she gave a report about Natasha’s state. However, when she was alone, she felt like she was trapped in her head right along with the red-haired spy.
Maria was attempting to convince herself that she only cared about her former subordinate because she kept an eye on her during field missions years ago.
But the commander knew she cared more about a stubborn, snarky moron who never wanted help from anyone.
Maria heaved a sigh and turned her attention back to S.H.I.E.L.D’s classified documents. She was supposed to keep an eye on Captain Rogers and Sam Wilson for their undercover mission to bring James “Bucky” Barnes back from Europe. Maria tapped the touchscreen of her laptop to search for the current location of both Avengers.
It was then, when she heard a loud inhaling, followed with paroxysmal dyspnea.
At first, she just sat in the chair, numbly gazing towards the king-size bed. Realization came after a few seconds, causing Maria to get on her feet immediately. She quickly came up to Natasha, grabbing her by her shoulders. Green eyes condemned nothing but terror and confusion, her head quickly turning to every side. She could feel the other woman’s muscles stiffening under her skin, sticky from sweat. Her lips were parted, drops of perspiration gathered on her Cupid’s bow.
“Easy, ‘Tasha,” Maria said gently, reusing the well known position as she clenched her thighs on the redhead’s hips.
Natasha quickly closed her eyes, swallowing hardly, her head resting on the pillow once again. She tried to settle down her breathing with an effort and the commander could only stare at the woman under her. Her chest floated up and down fastly, tongue brushing sweaty raspberry lips. Maria was certain it was the first time she saw Natasha without any of her walls up and if it was not caused by such a dramatic situation, Maria would not complain.
“Masha?" Natasha whispered after the moment, gazing at her with green, unfocused eyes.
Maria frowned gingerly at the sound of the word Natasha used. It did not sound English, nor the accent she had. For a brief second, the commander was rigid with fear. She let one of her hands slip slowly towards her thigh gun holster. She was iffy about her first thought but she knew she could not risk anything. Natasha was able to easily overpower her.
Maria heard an imaginary sound of her neck being snapped.
Yet a small part of her trusted the woman in front of her with her life.
“You are okay, Natasha.” She nerved herself to say it as calmly as she could. “Do you remember what happened?” she asked, feeling the familiar cool metal under her fingertips.
The redhead gazed at Maria, blinking fastly. Her eyes widened unexpectedly as she went white and started hyperventilating again. She looked much more pale than usual and Maria quickly grabbed a bottle of water that stood next to the bed. She untwisted the cap and touched it to Natasha’s dry lips.
“Drink,” she ordered in her commander’s voice and looked as Natasha ravenously drank the contents of the bottle, a few trickles of water escaping her mouth.
She gulped the last swallow and mopped her wet lips.
“I don’t understand,” Natasha said quietly and Maria had no doubt this time that she spoke in perfect Russian.
Her fingers quickly flicked off the safety as she took the gun of the holster and pointed it towards Natasha. Her thighs, which were wrapped around woman’s hips, clenched harder than they ever had before. She could feel her hands shaking, her breath irregular. Maria was looking at the spy with a confused look on her face. She did not understand anything. Was Natasha back to Natalia Alianovna Romanova? Was it Red Room who did all that to her?
She had heard Natasha speak Russian once during their first joint mission years ago in Russia. Maria could still recall the warm feeling of sunbeams on her face as they drank water in the garden of a cafeteria on Red Square in Moscow. Natasha would stare at her, not even trying to hide her irritation of the fact that they had been paired together for that case. However, when the Russian man they were supposed to meet in order to blow his cover as first-time prospects of his company showed up, the spy simply slipped into role of Maria’s girlfriend. Maria could still feel Natasha’s fingertips gently caressing her naked thigh as she discussed selling terms in her native tongue.
“Masha,” Natasha whispered, pulling her out of her thoughts.
“Natalia Alianovna Romanova?” Maria asked firmly, her grip tightening on the gun.
Green eyes widened at the sound of her old name. Natasha shook her head vigorously, making her red curls bounce. The spy raised her hand and pointed at herself.
”I’m Natasha,” she said and Maria breathed a sigh of relief, lowering the gun, hearing a familiar name from the redhead’s lips. ”You’re Masha,” she added, pointing towards Maria.
“No.” She shook her head, smiling softly. “I’m Maria.”
“Maria,” Natasha repeated quietly and slowly with a Russian accent.
It was the first time Maria saw Natasha so defenseless and in a fog. Maria assumed it must have been a fallout of the amount of drugs poured into her body. She put the gun back in the holaster and got off of the woman, taking her phone out of the pocket of her trousers. She dialed a number and put the device to her ear.
“Joseph,” a familiar male voice answered the phone after a few rings.
“It’s Commander Maria Hill. Sir, I’m calling to inform you that Natasha has just woken up,” she said and waited for the response from the other side.
“Good to hear that. Would you mind giving your phone to her, Hill?” Fury let a small breath of relief into the microphone.
“About that…” Maria laughed nervously. “I have grounds to believe Agent Romanoff does not speak English, nor understands it.” She licked her lips, briefly looking at the mentioned woman who gazed at her intently, her head slightly tilted.
“What do you mean she doesn’t understand English?” he asked.
“I’m afraid I mean exactly what I said, Director,” whispered Maria.
Natasha not speaking English was a tough nut to crack, but the commander did not want to give up so easily.
Maria stared at the list of Russian common phrases in her hand.
She never thought she would ever have to learn a foreign language other than Spanish, which she was forced to learn years ago in high school. But here she was, memorizing the basic yet most necessary locutions of Slavonic language. It had to last until the doctors found a solution to Natasha’s half-amnesia.
Maria had to admit, it was not an easy study. Especially when it was a one night cram session supported with several cans of different energy drinks. The Russian alphabet, Cyrillic, drove her crazy and she eventually decided to drop it after three in the morning. She didn’t need it anyway.
Maria knocked softly and opened the door to Natasha’s bedroom. The redhead was already up, sitting in bed with a book and tablet in her hands. Her long and elegant hands gently turned to another page as her green eyes scanned the text from the device curiously.
”Good morning,” said Maria, making a face when her voice didn’t sound like the recording of the Russian phrase she had listened to several times earlier that morning.
”Good morning.” Natasha smiled shyly and turned her attention back to the book she was reading.
Maria made her way to the king-sized bed and sat at the edge of it, staring at the spy who translated another sentence from the book, written in English. Focused on her task, she was humming contentedly, frowning from time to time when something did not seem understable enough.
Maria observed as her bony fingers deftly copied Russian characters to the tablet’s translator. She reflected on how odd it was to forget the language overnight. How did it feel to look at familiar writing on a book and not be able to read it? To hear a conversation of people you knew, but without an ability to understand them? The commander shrank suddenly. Natasha didn’t even know Maria’s name in English when she woke up.
Natasha Romanoff did not remember anything in English. That was the statement they managed to determine with the help of an internet translator the other night. Maria did not know when the lost knowledge would come back, if ever, so she decided to take the bit in her hands and learn Russian for Natasha and to teach her English.
It was a good plan, although very time-consuming.
“Good Morning” Maria switched back to English, staring at Natasha. “It means good morning in English.” She built a language-mixed sentence from the words she could remember in Russian.
Natasha nodded and slowly repeated after the dark-haired commander, concentration on her face.
”Hungry?” Maria asked, an uncomfortable feeling forming in her as another unfamiliar sound slipped out of her lips. She did not enjoy speaking in Russian but she knew it was required to communicate. ”Hungry in English,” she added.
The redhead repeated another word.
It felt like teaching a child their first words.
”Yes.” Natasha nodded.
“Yes.” Maria corrected.
The spy repeated another word.
It was a long haul but Maria did not want to give up. She wanted to make sure Natasha spoke English again.
Maria was walking down the corridor, her steps reverberating. She was on her way to Natasha’s to check on her.
It had been two weeks since Natasha woke up. It had also been two weeks of Maria speaking Russian. After fourteen days of using the unfamiliar language, she eventually got used to it. She still did not speak it fluently, but Natasha could understand her, and that was all that mattered to Maria.
She still didn’t know what happened in Serbia. Natasha was quiet, speaking only when it was needed. Maria assumed the trauma must have been too big, even for the best spy in the world. She didn’t push, trying to make the redhead feel safe and rested after the dramatic occurrence. Moreover, the commander doubted that the woman possessed enough stock of words to describe her emotions.
On the other hand, Natasha was quickly catching on with English. She learned a hundred words per diem, along with grammar from internet resources written in Russian. Her sweeping advance made Maria feel more peaceful, having a more positive attitude toward the future. However, Natasha still had difficulties with the perfect American accent that the dark-haired woman was trying to teach her. She stewed over it and Maria often had to remind Natasha that Rome was not built in a day.
The commander was currently on the phone with Steve Rogers, listening to the mission report about Bucky’s status. She knew that sooner or later he was going to ask for Natasha’s help and Maria did not have the slightest desire to inform the Captain that his partner was currently unavailable. Director Fury forbid her from telling anyone except the trusted medic crew about Natasha’s case. She had to make everyone believe the spy was on the undercover mission.
“I don’t know if it’s a good idea, Rogers,” Maria spoke to the microphone as she softly knocked and firmly pushed the door open.
A loud noise followed with a groan made her frown. She entered the room to see Natasha rubbing her forehead and wincing. The redhead raised her eyes, grimacing.
“What the fuck, Hill,” she muttered, picking herself up from the floor. “If you tried to kill me then I have to tell you that your method sucked. Commander, my ass,” she added.
Maria hung up on Steve unwittingly. She clearly didn’t remember teaching the woman how to swear in English but that wasn’t the reason of her thunderstriking.
Natasha spoke with a clean American accent, not even taking a break between words that came out of her mouth.
“If I had known I should have just simply knocked your block off to make you speak English again, I would have done that the first day you woke up, Romanoff,” she stuttered out.
Natasha looked thrown, her mouth opening and closing. Maria could easily tell she was fumbling for words as her eyes slightly filmed over. She stared at the commander, an unknown expression on her face.
At that moment, Maria realised her job was done. She accomplished the objective and brought Natasha Romanoff fully back to herself. An unfamiliar feeling in her chest appeared as she tried to get herself together.
They were coworkers that were not even close to the “friends” status.
Maria got lost in her own thoughts.
She liked Natasha, probably more than just a friend. She realised that years ago, catching herself observing the spy while she paced the Helicarrier’s corridors. Romanoff was a beautiful, skilled, and intelligent woman, and Maria had no doubt that she was out of her reach, so she didn’t even bother to incure Natasha’s attention. Additionally, she didn’t even know whether the spy was attracted to women or not, and she did not want to risk their acquaintance over her foolish emotions. She was Maria Hill, a commander of S.H.I.E.L.D. and a former soldier, after all. She could control herself.
“Good job, Romanoff. Mission accomplished. I believe my help is no longer needed,” she said as she put a hand on the door’s handle.
“Maria.” A whisper came out of Natasha’s lips.
Her muscles tensed at the sound of the silky voice. She slowly turned towards the red-haired woman, firmly looking into her green eyes.
“Don’t go.” She slowly came up to her and grabbed her hand.
She followed every move of the red-haired woman, her face expressionless. Natasha gently pulled her towards the bed, scaled on it and sat a moment later. Maria sat next to her at the verge of the mattress.
“Will you stay with me tonight? We don’t know if the hit on the head triggered other things other than my ability to speak English.”
“I will,” Maria blurted out
Natasha smiled gratefully at her and unscrupulously began to divest herself of the clothes she wore. Maria quickly looked away, willing to give the woman some privacy in her own bedroom. After a moment, she could feel the mattress cave in to Natasha’s weight as she crawled up under her gray duvets. She got up and adjourned the desk chair, nearer the side of the bed the redhead occupied now.
Natasha snuggled down and closed her eyes.
Maria watched as her breath became deeper and more regular. She marveled at the fact that the spy could be out like a light knowing somebody was watching her through the whole process.
She took her phone out and checked her business e-mail. There was nothing much, a few reports from field agents she was in charge of, one coded message from Coulson and a daily report from Steve. Maria read all of them with boredom, neatly responding to each of them. She was sitting in Natasha’s chair for an hour now and nothing seemed suspicious in the woman’s peaceful sleep. She slowly got up, turned the bedlamp off and quietly made her way toward door.
She was just grabbing the door handle when a whine escaped Natasha’s lips.
“Of course,” Maria mumbled and turned back to the bed.
The redhead was unquietly flouncing about in her bed, her fingers clenched on the white sheet. Maria quickly took her shoes off, crawled into bed and pitched one of her leg over Natasha’s body. She knew that position too well, applying it every time the spy fitted. The commander clenched her thighs and pinned Natasha’s hands on both sides of her head.
“Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe ‘Tasha,” she whispered. “Wake up, it’s just a bad dream.”
Natasha moaned and attempted to buck Maria off her body, as always. However, the dark-haired woman overpowered her, tightly gripping her wrists. Green eyes bursted open, wildly looking about. She was sweaty, red tresses gumming to her forehead. Maria brushed Natasha’s hair away of her eyes and gently stroked her rosy cheek. The woman snuggled into her hand, causing Maria to stiffen for a moment.
“Please don’t go.” The request was said in an undertone, making her heart pound faster.
“I’m not going anywhere, Natasha. I’ll just sit on the chair,” she whispered back.
“Stay with me.”
Maria paused.
Natasha was still half asleep. There was no other explanation for what was happening. Maria could ignore it, leave the room and pretend that all of that never happened. It would be easier. It would be easier to bury her feelings. Be made of marble.
But she couldn’t.
Maria gently slipped onto the left side of the bed, facing Natasha in the dark.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked after some moment.
Natasha shook her head and grabbed Maria’s hand, pulling it to her face and putting on her cheek. The commander stopped breathing for a second before she softly caressed Natasha’s cheek with her thumb. It felt oddly right, like Natasha’s face was made specially for her hand. She could feel sparseness of imperfections under her fingertips. She could also feel, how Natasha’s lips curved into a small smile.
Maria felt content.
“Please, tell me if I’m wrong,” Natasha said under her breath, “but do you like me, Maria?”
Did Maria liked Natasha?
She did. She liked Natasha more than anyone else in her life. Even if she had known, it would have never worked out.
“You’re tired, ‘Tasha,” she whispered, slowly pulling her hand back from her cheek, but she stopped halfway.
“Because I like you back, Maria Hill.”
Maria’s heart stopped, and so did her breathing.
A moment later, she felt plump lips gently brushing against hers. Natasha was so close to her, she could smell the fragrance of the strawberry shampoo she used. Maria closed her eyes and placed her hand on the back of Natasha’s neck, pulling her up to her, sliding her tongue across the redhead’s lips. She felt Natasha deepen the kiss and a gentle tug from the hand in her hair.
It felt like some kind of heaven.
After a moment, she eased away from Natasha, gazing at her with consternation.
“What about Banner?” she asked, brushing a red curl away from the woman’s face.
“I don’t understand,” Natasha answered, snuggling in her hand yet again that night.
“Didn’t you two have a...thing?” Maria could feel the panic filling her heart as the other woman was lying in silence.
“Maria,” she started. “There’s nothing between me and him. I moved on.”
She could feel herself start to breathe again as Natasha’s finger traced the shape of her lips. After the moment, the redhead nestled up to her and heaved a sigh. Maria slowly wrapped her arms around her.
“Thank you for everything, Masha,” Natasha mumbled into her chest, her voice laden with sleep.
Maria Hill was not going anywhere.