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Natasha drops her suit on the floor, half expecting a cloud of dust to rise from the pile. Her head pounds and her muscles protest with every movement, but the pain is distant, suppressed by the memory of ballet shoes and surgical instruments that appear with every blink. She knows her arms hurt as she pulls Laura’s robe around her shoulders, but the pain isn’t hers. It belongs to a different Natasha, and she follows that Natasha through the halls of the Barton house and into the other guest bedroom, through the maze of brightly colored toys until they both sit on the bed. This bed has always had a rusty hinge, but Natasha can’t hear it squeak as the mattress settles.
A stuffed baboon, from Cooper’s fourth birthday party at the zoo, catches her eye. It’s been discarded on the quilt a few inches away, and its arms lay in a tangle over its head. Natasha can remember the day Cooper got it, her promise of a toy sending him tearing through the gift shop with a grin on his face. She stares at the monkey for a moment, and then finds herself reaching for it. Natasha’s fingers brush against the matted fur, and the world floods her senses.
Natasha, whole and present Natasha, can hear the shower running in the bathroom, the feet stamping on the hardwood downstairs, the voices flowing from every corner of the house, and it’s not the sudden onslaught of noise that makes her suck in a breath as much as it is the instant comfort the monkey brings her. She brings it to her chest and tucks it under her chin, and though the sounds fall away again, Natasha doesn’t. She can feel everything now, from the deep ache in her muscles to the velcro on the monkey’s clothes, but the most surprising feeling is the warmth that fills her chest as she presses her face into its fur.
This little toy pushes the bloody ballet slippers and bullets and syringes away and replaces the gut-wrenching fear and deep regret with something warm and soothing. Natasha closes her eyes, and for just a moment she’s back at the zoo with Cooper, holding his chubby hand as he pulls her from animal to animal. Then she’s ten years old with Yelena, running around their splintery play-set in Ohio, their laughter echoing in her head. Clint is twirling the drumstick around his fingers as Steve tries to pull Thor’s hammer off the table, and she grinning so wide her cheeks hurt. Lila clings to her neck as she chases Cooper around their living room, both of them squealing in delight as she stomps around dramatically. It’s mid-summer, and she and Clint are sharing a drink on his back porch, cicadas shrieking in the distance.
The sudden force of these memories makes her lip tremble, but she holds onto the monkey and the laughter for as long as she can because the person she was reminded of today didn’t exist in those memories. She was loved and happy, surrounded by the people that she cared for. Her grip on the stuffed animal tightens, and Natasha clings to the monkey until the water in the bathroom shuts off and she has to open her eyes.
She lets the baboon fall onto the bed, and the warmth in her chest fades. She gathers the towel into her lap but keeps one hand on the monkey’s leg, hoping it’ll keep the darkness pressing at the edge of her mind away. She runs her thumb over its fuzzy foot until Bruce steps out of the bathroom.
Maybe it’s the lingering comfort from the baboon or the feelings about him that she hasn’t quite sorted out yet, but her guard is down and the already fragile crack in her heart widens with every word that falls out of her mouth. Her face is hot when she finally steps into the bathroom, but her chest is hollow and stomach heavy with the weight of everything she just revealed to Bruce.
Natasha expects to cry in the shower, to sit on the tile floor until the water runs cold and she has no choice but to get out, but the water is already frigid when she gets in and she rushes through the shower so quickly she doesn’t have time to cry or sit or think, afraid her already shaky legs will give out on her before she can make it to bed.
Natasha wraps the robe back around herself as she steps out of the freezing bathroom, water from her wet hair dripping onto her shoulders. Goosebumps break out over her skin. She walks past the bed, catches sight of the monkey amongst the creased sheets, and grabs its flimsy arm before she can talk herself out of the idea. Like a child dragging its blanket, Natasha carries it back to her room and crawls under the sheets with it, exhaustion hitting her like a brick wall as she curls up on her side and brings the stuffed animal to her chin. Muted versions of the same memories fill her mind as she drifts off, and she hopes the warmth will stave off the nightmares long enough for her stomach to settle.