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This is how Natasha learns kindness:
When Clint tells her there is a safe place where they will stay until SHIELD decides what to do with her, she feels anxious and on the edge, her whole body tense. She can hear Clint on the phone during the flight, she expects the worst.
But the woman at the door greets her with a smile and lets her into the house. “You must be Natasha”, she says. “Clint told me about you.” She offers food and warm tea and a room for Natasha to stay and the whole time the Russian waits for the turn, waits for a trap to close.
It never comes.
When she can’t sleep in the night and wanders through the house, Laura finds her in the kitchen and sits with her at the table.
“I can’t sleep”, Natasha says. “I keep hearing noises.”
“It’s just the house.” Laura stirs her tea. She uses a fork, not a spoon – it’s easier to fish out the tea bag, she says. “The wood always makes noise. For me, turning on music helps sometimes, but you will get used to it eventually.”
Natasha keeps quiet. She doesn’t say that she doesn’t trust either of them, that she is ready to fight her way out if she has to, that she is scared, that she thinks she might be found here too. There has never been a safe place in her life.
Laura doesn’t push her. “Do you want me to stay with you?”, she asks instead.
“Aren’t you scared of me?”
When Laura reaches out to put her hand over Natasha’s, she almost flinches, then lets the squeeze calm her. “No, Natasha. I’m not scared of you.”
This is how she learns kindness: how she learns that it’s not weakness, like she thought, that it is not always an act to get what you want and that the people with truly kind hearts are also the ones that have the most courage.
This is how Natasha learns patience:
She finds Laura kneeling in the dirt, her hands buried in the soil. The farm is surrounded by grass, but behind the house Laura has made her own garden, a steadily growing square of herbs and flowers. Natasha watches her for a while, puzzled, and when she sits down next to her Laura looks up with a smile.
There is dirt on her cheeks and a strand of hair sticking to her forehead, but she doesn’t seem to notice.
“Do you want to help me?”
Natasha hesitates. She has destroyed and killed, but she can’t recall ever helping something to grow. “I have never done any gardening.”
“It’s easy. See, this is where the plants have to go, so you just need to be careful with their roots when you take them out.”
Laura shows her where to plant what, which tools to use and she doesn’t raise her voice once even when Natasha accidentally kneels on a group of blooming strawberries.
When she comes into the house that evening her hands are covered in dirt instead of blood and she feels positively calm.
After that she regularly helps Laura with work around the farm: riding along the fences to check for holes, finishing a wall that needs painting and has been left by Clint the way it is, cutting down weak branches from the trees and of course gardening.
This is how she learns patience: how she learns that it’s nothing cold and calculating while you’re waiting for your move but rather something full of warmth and joy when the things you worked hard on finally carry fruits.
This is how Natasha learns anger:
When Laura sets down the phone there are tears in her eyes and her jaw is set. She takes a deep breath and then starts moving things around, busy as always, but her work is aimless and her hands tighten too much.
“Is everything alright?” It’s a dumb question – she should ask what is wrong instead, but Natasha is not sure if Laura appreciates that she can be read so easily and so she just reaches out with one hand to lay it on Laura’s shoulder.
“I’m alright”, she huffs and when Natasha wants to pull her hand away quickly, Laura reaches for it. “I’m sorry. It’s just that...Clint will be gone longer than anticipated and I thought he would be here this weekend, but apparently it’s really bad...”
“You are angry with him?” Curiously, Natasha searches her host’s face. She has never experienced her anything different than calm, a person who is in control without asking to be.
“No. I’m angry with the people who sent him there. I’m angry with the people threatening him. I’m...I’m angry that he has to be out there risking his life because the world is like it is.” She hesitates, then grimaces. “And, alright yes, actually I am angry with Clint too. I’m angry, because he is out there risking his life and I know it’s important to him and what he does helps people, but I am here while he gets hurt and there is nothing I can do.”
It’s the first time Natasha realizes that she is wrong to think Laura wears all her thoughts on the surface and she softly presses the other woman’s hand. When she tells her that she understands rage, Laura smiles at her, but shakes her head.
“Thank you, but this is...I don’t think this is rage. I just hate feeling so helpless.”
Natasha doesn’t tell her that Laura is the strongest woman she has ever met.
This is how she learns anger: how she learns that it’s not always blinding rage and violence, but rather born out of care and worry and how it can be protection instead of destruction.
This is how Natasha learns trust:
Laura is rocking baby Lila in her arms, but all her talking and humming does little to calm the child and Natasha can’t help but smirk at it. Of course though, Laura notices. “Oh, do you want to try it?”, she asks, and it is more teasing than anything else, yet Natasha freezes.
Lila is delicate and small and vulnerable and Natasha has never held a baby.
Laura must have noticed her reaction, because she steps closer carefully. “It’s alright. You can hold her”, she says and when Natasha holds out her arms slowly she lays the baby in there and adjust Natasha’s hands so she holds the girl the right way.
It’s a strange feeling. The girl goes quiet as if she knows that Natasha is unexperienced and makes small huffing sounds and here she is, the world’s greatest assassin, with a few months old child on her arm that is reaching for red curls.
“I don’t understand why...”, she starts, her eyes searching Laura’s.
She shakes her head. “Natasha, there is nothing I wouldn’t put into your hands. The life of my children or my husband or my own...I know we are safe with you. And you are safe with us too.”
This is how she learns trust: With a small heartbeat in her hands and a woman who knew that her hands were made for more than destruction even before Natasha realized it herself.
This is how Natasha learns love:
When she looks at Laura chewing on her pen or the way she always misses a strand of hair when she pins up her hair, she doesn’t feel like a stranger anymore. When she watches Laura stare into the rain, waiting and when she sits next to her as they drive in the Barton truck, feet propped up on the dashboard, she feels relaxed and safe. When they squeeze each other’s hands in quiet understanding or lean against each other as the wind howls around the house, she feels warm and happy.
She doesn’t falter when Fury asks her why she changed her mind about fighting with SHIELD, because now there is someone she wants to protect, too. When she meets Clint’s eyes across the room, his smile tells her that he knows.
This is how she learns love: in the hands of a woman that had no reason to love her first and did so anyway.