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Natasha wakes up to blood splattered on her chest, her skin bitten by the cold. She screams and shoves, the body on top of her, lifeless and stiff.
Then in a whirl, she is back with Madame in a classroom, naked and bent at her knees, fresh welts on her back. She cries and screams until she feels nothing anymore. She stares at the ground beneath her, counting the hits to her back and closes her eyes until it all fades away.
When she opens her eyes, she is in the Avengers compound, laughing at a joke she does not hear, but she sees her fellow Avengers chuckling at something Tony said. She sees Wanda, smiling big and bright in her direction, and for a moment, Natasha feels her heart stop.
Then she is in an abandoned alleyway, where her target attempts to touch her. She gets a piece of broken glass in her hand and slashes his throat with it before his hand moves too far up her thigh.
His body lays on top of her, gurgling and leaking blood onto her exposed chest. She knows she will be punished for killing prematurely, for not letting him have his way with her, and for not extracting the information first.
The cycle continues, all of the scenes repeating until Natasha opens her eyes, and there is blood on her chest once again, a warmer body on top of her. She shoves just like she did in her dream, only to find the body squeaks as it thuds on the floor.
She scrapes at the blood on her chest, only to find her hands are clean, and the morning light filtering through the curtains bounces off her sweat-soaked skin.
“Nat?” The pile of brown hair groans from the floor, red circling around her fingertips.
Wanda looks surprised and genuinely terrified, and it makes Natasha nauseous.
She gets up, discarding Wanda’s worried questions and makes a beeline for the bathroom. She locks the door, hands trembling before she leans against the sink, breathing as though oxygen has never passed through her body before this moment.
She turns the tap slowly and cups some water in her hands before she bends down to rinse her face off. She ignores the flashes of red for the few seconds that her eyes are closed and then tucks a few stray strands of hair behind her ear.
She breathes (or attempts to) and looks directly into her eyes in the mirror. Her pupils are slowly constricting, and she bites her lip when she realises she managed to shove her girlfriend off the bed in her sleep-addled frenzy.
The previous night, they had partaken in some amorous activities, and she had fallen asleep with only a tank top and underwear to cover herself. She quickly rummages through the laundry hamper and fishes a pair of shorts out to cover some of her bare legs.
There is a knock at the door, persistent and worried with a slightly raspy Sokovian accent.
“Natasha? Are you okay? What was that?”
Natasha knows she should answer her and explain herself instead of locking herself in the bathroom for the entire day. She knows better than to isolate herself from a love she took so long to cultivate and nurture. She knows better than to run.
So, she takes a breath and follows her instincts, anyway.
“I’m okay… I’m late for a meeting with Fury.” She yells through the door. There is no meeting or excuse for hiding from Wanda, who clearly cares about her and knows there was no meeting with Fury today.
“Nat, you pushed me off the bed, and you were groaning in your sleep.” Wanda persists.
Natasha sighs and ignores her girlfriend’s pleas. She grabs her toothbrush and thinks about going to the gym for the day. As she squirts some of Wanda’s minty toothpaste onto her toothbrush, she thinks about leaving the compound entirely under the pretence of a mission. She could wander around the city for a while. Perhaps she could purchase another pack of cigarettes and wander around Riverside Park for a while.
She brushes her teeth quickly, slowly regaining her grasp on reality after realising that she is no longer in the alleyway, in Madame B’s classroom, or in the kitchen when she closes her eyes.
She notes that Wanda has given up, and she slinks out of the bathroom quickly and finds their bedroom empty. As she races to get dressed for the day, she notices the scent of eggs and bacon wafting in from the kitchen while Wanda occasionally hums to the soft music that’s playing.
She quietly and quickly tiptoes out of the bedroom, passing through their open-plan living room and zipping past Wanda undetected. She winces when she realises that she’s behaving immaturely, but she has no desire to go back and apologise. She has no desire to explain herself, either.
She thinks of the jet-black dogs she was always taught to be afraid of in the Red Room. When she was still in the early stages of training, her handlers had brought a few of them to intimidate them. They were all vicious and starved on purpose, brutally beaten daily to ensure they’d be agitated. Their muzzles would be removed, and each girl would have to outrun them to pass the test. Those that didn’t pass would get bitten, possibly mauled. One girl, she thinks, died of an infection.
Sometimes, she thinks there is a black dog in her life that will never stop chasing her. It snarls with big yellow teeth and narrow dark eyes, drooling from its mouth as it closes in. She tries to run and to avoid it, to outrun the overwhelming darkness she has no doubt will take her one day.
Her body moves on autopilot. Something she has never been able to shake off since her Red Room days. She knows she should change. She knows running from Wanda like a scared cat is unhealthy. She knows she is being a child. But addressing all of these issues requires her to open a chain-locked box she threw into a safe that was subsequently tossed into the ocean.
She makes sure to stay out of everyone’s way. She knows Steve would be running on the compound’s ground. Tony would be awake around 9 am. Bruce would be working in the lab. Thor was off-world. Sam would be attempting to catch up with Steve. Wanda would still be in the kitchen, and she’d be able to sneak out of the compound in time before Wanda came looking for her.
She takes her motorbike, nearly forgoing the helmet entirely because her head feels too trapped as it is, but she knows if she gets into an accident, Wanda will be upset. Even more so than she will be when she realises Natasha has left.
*****
Wanda and Natasha’s relationship was born out of flames and rubble. Yet, it was still one of the softest things they had both experienced. It began slow and tender, growing like ivy on the walls of an abandoned building.
Wanda had grown used to Natasha’s preference for her flight response whenever something personal would bubble at the surface, but she had never experienced it to this degree.
She expects Natasha to return after lunch after training with Steve. They have a meeting with the secretary of defence, and Natasha is still nowhere to be seen.
When Wanda returns to the quarters they share and finds it empty, she worries when she sees the sun beginning to set. The sky is adorning its usual purple-pink hue.
She waits anxiously on their couch, restlessly watching television, being sure to avoid the news to cause any further stress. She finishes four episodes of a sitcom she doesn’t care to know the name of before she hears the door click open.
She knows it's Natasha before she sees her and sighs with relief.
“God… where have you been all day? I’ve been worried.”
When Wanda looks at her, it’s as if the woman travelled to a different state and back in one day. She looks exhausted, her hair smothered in all directions, her lips cracked, paired with her dark under-eye bags.
When she approaches the redhead, who is busy putting her keys on the table by the door and shrugging off her jacket, she notices that she smells like smoke and coffee.
“I was out,” Natasha says, mumbling almost but not quite.
“You missed the meeting with Ross,” Wanda points out, attempting to come closer. She manoeuvres her way to stand in front of her, placing her hands on the woman’s arms.
Natasha avoids looking at her until soft, gentle hands curl under her chin and push up slightly. Wanda notes Natasha’s reluctance and avoidance but places a small kiss on the woman’s lips anyway. It was something Natasha could not deny.
It’s a soft kiss. It doesn’t last more than a few seconds, and Wanda feels Natasha leaning toward it for a second.
But then she pulls away and walks towards the fridge, leaving Wanda slightly disheartened. The spy reaches into the fridge and pulls out a bottle of water, quickly gulping it down like she would after an intense training session.
Wanda watches her momentarily, how her muscles are tense, and there seems to be a crease between her eyebrows that never goes away.
“Are we going to talk about this morning? Or your disappearing act?” Wanda tries again, a little more assertive this time.
Natasha pants a little from how she practically inhaled the water and twists the cap back on. She looks at Wanda with something unreadable in her eyes.
“There is nothing to speak about,” Natasha says pointedly.
“You pushed me out of the bed.” Wanda still persists.
“Are you hurt?” There is a hint of worry on the redhead’s face this time, looking over Wanda’s body from a distance.
“No.”
“Then it’s fine.” Natasha leaves the half-empty water bottle on the counter, walks towards their bedroom, and leaves the witch stunned for a third time that day.
“Nat!” Wanda pleads, following the woman and watching her take her shirt off as she enters their bedroom. “Don’t you want to talk about it? You were so shaken up. I’ve never seen you like that before.”
“Wanda… please.” Natasha turns to her, only clad in her bra and her pyjama shorts. She looks even more exhausted like this, even more, worn down than this morning.
“I don’t want to talk about it. I’m sorry I pushed you off the bed, and I’m sorry I disappeared. But, I really don’t want to talk about anything.”
There’s an insistence in her tone that rivals and beats Wanda’s concern, so the brunette sighs and relents.
“Fine… do you want something to eat? I’m going to make dinner soon.”
“I just want to sleep.” The blanket that drapes over the bed is thrown back, and a few throw pillows are tossed onto the floor.
Natasha crawls into the bed and curls up, her body facing away from Wanda.
*****
Natasha is still sleeping when Wanda wakes up.
Wanda makes breakfast and leaves some toast and sausages out for Natasha. Afterwards, she brushes her teeth and puts on light makeup.
She quietly puts on her clothes for the day because Natasha is still sleeping. She decides against waking her, knowing that the woman needs the rest.
She meets Sam and Steve, who want to consult her on a possible new gadget they want Tony to make. The conversation gives her a headache, and she decides not to train that day.
Instead, she leaves the compound and goes to the mall. She buys a shit-ton of groceries with Tony’s card. She picks up some more peanut butter, chocolate cake slices, strawberries, and two bags of potato chips for Natasha. She goes to her favourite thrift store and greets the older lady who runs it with a smile. She finds a small brown teddy bear, a little ragged, with one eye hanging off. It has a faded, red bow around its neck.
She also buys the bear for Natasha, something inside of her pulling her to do so. She buys herself a few new bracelets and a DVD of some obscure show she had been telling Natasha about.
She gets home just after 3 pm, floats her many bags on the counter (the perks of being a witch), and begins packing them away. When she is done, she takes the teddy bear in her arms to hide it in Natasha’s closet as a surprise.
To her surprise, she finds a red-haired lump covered in their blankets, still in their bed. She knows Natasha isn’t sleeping despite her back still facing away from her. She’s lying on her side, her body still curled up in a perfect C-shape.
She walks over to the other side of the bed to find Natasha silently staring out of the open curtains. She doesn’t acknowledge Wanda’s presence and doesn’t even perk up at all.
Wanda sets the bear down at the foot of the bed and decides to perch herself next to the redhead. Upon closer inspection, she can see the faint tear tracks on the woman’s cheeks and the slightly puffy eyes. Her gaze softens, and she places a hand on Natasha’s thigh, tapping it ever-so-gently.
“Natka?” She says softly, a small bud of relief sprouting when Natasha’s eyes flicker to her.
“Have you eaten anything today?”
Natasha shakes her head minutely, and Wanda’s heart breaks slightly at moisture gathering in the meridian eyes. Two tears escape, and Wanda strokes her cheek with a pitiful sigh.
“I’ve bought some chocolate cake? And some strawberries. Later, I will make dinner, but would you like to eat some of that?”
Natasha shakes her head, more insistently this time. She frowns desperately while more silent tears escape as she turns her head slightly to bury her head into the pillow underneath her. The black dog has bitten her, and she feels sick.
“Okay… it’s alright.” Wanda soothes, brushing some of the stray baby hairs out of her girlfriend’s face with a soft tisk. “Can I hold you, honey?”
Natasha nods and sniffles before Wanda walks over to her side of the bed. It’s not so often that Natasha is the little spoon, but Wanda knows that the woman just doesn’t know how to ask for it on some nights.
She encircles Natasha’s body with her arms and presses a few loving kisses to her shoulders before she feels the woman turning around in front of her. She feels warm breath on her neck and a soft exhale under her. Natasha’s legs have nuzzled their way between Wanda’s, and she’s pressed close against the witch.
“Would you like to talk about it now?” Wanda asks, her one hand stroking and running through the woman’s unruly hair.
“It was the same dream I had yesterday,” Natasha starts, barely whispering into Wanda’s skin.
“It’s like a loop. I am in an alley, and I have blood all over me, and then I’m in the Red Room…” Wanda’s grip tightens slightly at that, “Then I’m here with you and everyone else. And then I am back in the alley, and I have to kill him… I have to kill because he touched me…”
Wanda knows Natasha is crying again from the warm liquid she feels rolling from her neck to her collarbone.
“I kill him, and then it all starts again.” Natasha breaks apart in Wanda’s arms, her breath hitching as she tries to quietly sob. She silences her cries by pressing her mouth against Wanda’s shoulder, attempting to suffocate her emotions.
Wanda holds her tight through it all. She rubs her hand on Nat’s back and keeps her other hand stroking her hair.
“It’s okay. You can cry, Nat. You can do that with me and let it all out. It must be so scary to carry this all inside of you, right?”
Wanda learnt a while ago that Natasha never received any love as a child. After this revelation, she understands why the woman’s first instinct is to run and hide when her mind becomes hostile. She understands why there are times when Natasha just wants to tear herself apart and why it is so important for Wanda to be patient with her when that time comes.
She learnt that Natasha likes to feel pressure on her chest when she has a breakdown. She learnt that she likes to feel consumed by her touch. She learnt that sometimes the little girl inside of Natasha, who was beaten and shattered beyond recognition, just needs someone to hold her, to chase the black dogs away and treat her like she is fragile instead of marble.
They lie like that for some time, Wanda stroking Natasha’s hair while pressing warm kisses to the crown of her head. It’s only when Natasha moves one of her legs out from between Wanda’s that she bumps the bear at the foot of the bed.
She peers down, her brows furrowed. Wanda chuckles softly.
“It was meant to be a surprise,” Wanda uses her magic to make the small brown bear float from the foot of the bed over to Natasha, who takes it carefully.
Natasha strokes its fur for a few seconds and inspects its injured eyes before turning to Wanda, her eyes puffy and her cheeks completely tear-stained.
“Why?”
“I felt like it,” Wanda shrugs, leaving no room for Natasha to reject it. She knows that the redhead appreciates it and that she is already planning to fix its eye carefully without having to read her mind.
Natasha looks back at the bear again and moves closer to Wanda again, laying her head on the woman’s chest.
“I’m sorry for running away.”
“It’s okay. You came back. You always do.” Wanda, too, reaches out and strokes the bear’s fur. “At least I know that you’re trying,” she adds.
“I am.” Natasha turns to face her and leaves the bear sitting on Wanda’s stomach.
She presses a small kiss on Wanda’s lips, pouring all her appreciation and love she’s come to accept over the years into it. Wanda reciprocates by holding her cheek tenderly. The kiss is all smiles and understanding, something so pure that it feels like if they stop, it would all burst.
They pull away eventually, and Natasha’s eyes start to regain some of the iridescent glow.
“I’d love those strawberries and cake right about now.”