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There’s a fire pit that’s been neglected since they’ve moved in, sitting wistfully in the wind on the rooftop. It’s practically new, with the metaphorical stickers and tags practically attached on the thing. Maria swears she’s seen the warranty manual downstairs in one of the kitchens.
It’s where they find themselves, ticking down to midnight, days after the Accords.
The fire is strong, flames and the odd ember straying away as they silently wait for the night to close off, and Maria knows they’ll walk off into the night alone.
Over hot chocolate, Natasha says—“I think we should take time apart.”
She also says—“It’s not fair on you, being with someone who can’t even legally be in the same country with you.”
Maria wants to say: “We’re spies. I hold secrets that could throw governments at my feet. You know ten different ways to kill someone with a single look. When have we ever worried about the law?”
She could also plead, like the movies where the lover is chasing down the plane. “I’ve loved you before you knew who I was,” She would say. “I know everything about you, your hair, your eyes, the way you take your coffee in the morning. I’m so in love with you, it makes me sick.”
Maybe she would also write it out, like the poets in the 18th century. Always so eloquently, each stroke of the pen holding their breath as crafting a way to write what love is.
Darling, She would start out.
The fires rage into the night, but the sorrow I feel for us outweighs the warmth I feel.
But, she knows Natasha better than that.
So all she says is, “Okay.”
“Okay?”
Natasha blinks rapidly, setting down the mug to fully look at Maria. “That’s all you’re giving me? Okay?”
“What do you want me to say Natasha? That loving you means learning when it’s not the time to fight? That I wish you would stay, but me asking you would be a fucking death wish?”
“I love you. I have always loved you. And you’re asking me to let someone I love leave.” She turns away, feet dangling above the fire, throwing sticks and leaves to keep it alive. “So yes, that’s all I’m giving you. It’s too much to give you anything else.”
Natasha doesn’t say anything for a while, as the both bask in the light polluted darkness of New York. It’s crazy, she thinks—how two people who’ve never met each other can fall so quickly within a matter of minutes. She doesn’t believe in soulmates and all that, but she’s thinking that people who do may be on to something.
“I don’t know how not to be in love with you,” She whispered, breaking the silence. Flames flickering as she looked up at Natasha. “And I hate that I have to learn.”
She takes a shaky inhale of breath, “But I’m not gonna force you to stay, Natasha. If you think that signing these Accords are for the better and taking a step back from us, then that’s your choice. I can’t do anything about that.”
“You’re not going to fight?” Natasha brushed the hair out of her face, and rested her palm against her cheek. “You’re just going to let me go?”
“Did you want me to fight?” She replies humorlessly. Maria meets her eyes, and it’s still the same eyes that meet her every morning, and every night. It’s still the same damn eyes.
She gingerly lifts the hand off her cheek, still warm as the fire starts to flicker away. She holds on to it, like a lifeline she’s been clinging too for the past four years and takes a deep breath. “I know you, and I know when you need to do something. I love that about you,” She admits, voice breaking as the night gets softer. The city lights are starting to turn off, cars are getting quieter. “I know when it’s time to go. I’ve got to let you go.”
Voice cracking, in the cold April night she repeats again, for Natasha but mainly for her—“I need to let you go. Even if it destroys me.”
The fire has finally burned out, and the embers dance around the ashes. Natasha almost seems saddened by the prospect, brows furrowing at the dismay that fires don’t burn forever.
“They start with dramatics don’t they?” She says to no one in particular. “Fires? Something around it sparks it into life, and it burns as bright as it can for hours. And it slowly starts to wilt away from us, and without us noticing it burns out.”
Natasha stands up, and Maria is already grieving over the loss of closeness. There’s an air of hesitancy around them, and she realises that Natasha’s already setting up walls for her sake.
“Why does it feel like goodbye?” Natasha abruptly says.
Maria doesn’t say anything, but slowly leans and kisses her cheek. Shakily, she wipes tears away from her eyes and with one final look turns away and leaves.
Leaving Natasha in the night, ashes resting at her feet as the last spark refuses to die out.