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The air in the jet is heavy, and Natasha almost considers drawing her knife through it to see if the tension might be cut physically. As it is, her blade stays secure against her thigh and Maria continues to stare holes into her. She’s not certain why Maria is even on this ship instead of her own, heading back to SHIELD for any number of things that are infinitely more important than sitting here in silence. But she’d told them she was coming back with them, and no one was anyone to say otherwise to her. Of course, she could guess. She could hope with every memory between them that Maria has chosen this to be closer to her specifically, but something in her expression doesn’t exactly scream happy reunion.
Once they’re in the air, and once she’s asked about it, Maria comes up with the rather convincing excuse that she’d like to see everyone else on the chimaera after so long. Natasha supposes she’s probably not lying, but she also knows that Maria is much fonder of phone calls than placing herself in front of people directly. She’d done practically everything she could to avoid people paying her a real visit to her office back in the day – or, that was the case, five years ago. Natasha had sort of gotten used to the idea of being the only person Maria liked to see darkening her doorway and she pretends that the notion of that not being so true now doesn’t make her feel a little sick.
Truthfully, Natasha can’t say she hasn’t missed her every day since she left. She can’t honestly sit there and admit that Maria just being here isn’t filling her chest with words she doesn’t dare speak. There is such a sense of relief within her to see Maria’s face for herself, to find the details of it just the same as the last time as if her memory might betray her, and it’s soured by the hard lines of her face in comparison. She stares at her like she’s working through something particularly troubling, her teeth grinding ever so slightly in a habit she’d never been able to shake, and Natasha tries valiantly to ignore the way it curdles the endearment in her stomach.
Maria worries that Natasha can hear the gears turning in her head. She’s always been far too good at reading her, and Maria has never been as scared by the concept as she should be, even now. She wonders if Natasha can hear the words that she isn’t brave enough to voice as she avoids her gaze, and she can’t decide whether it’s worse to be ignored or to know that Natasha has forgotten her so thoroughly that her thoughts have become solely her own once again.
She knows she isn’t being subtle, but it’s so hard to look anywhere else when Natasha is there. For the first time in five years, Maria has definitive proof that she’s alive, and Natasha is tapping her foot as if she’s trying to avoid small talk in a doctor’s waiting room. She can’t find the words to express the relief she feels, nor the anger that comes tangled with it. The indignity that comes with being ignored for five years and six further hours.
She doesn’t want to talk. So desperately as she wants Natasha to explain everything to her, she just wants to hold her in her hands. For every atom of her that wants to know each individual decision on just why Natasha thought this sort of parting would be appropriate, she just wants to feel that she is alive under her own palms. She still wants the familiarity of her after all this time. After all this time she still finds her familiar, even in her coldness.
She watches Natasha lean backwards in her seat, folding her arms, and it only catches her words like wire in her throat. She chokes on all of the feelings she can’t seem to find mirrored back at her, all of the softness and concern that never used to be so absent even for all they tried to hide it. And then Natasha is looking at her, and Maria finds her words rising instead, bitten back with sudden effort.
“Go on,” Natasha says, gesturing with a hand without unfolding her arms. She doesn’t think she actually wants to hear it, but she can’t stand the disappointment in Maria’s eyes. “I think Bruce is going to cry if someone doesn’t talk soon, and you clearly have something to say.”
“Five years?” Maria asks, her tone escaping Natasha in ways she isn’t used to.
She barely refrains from raising an eyebrow. “What about them?”
Maria still can’t find the words to put in the right order for the first time in her life. “Was it really necessary to go silent for five years?”
“It was deep cover. I needed them to trust me.”
“We have encrypted channels for a reason, Romanoff. Hell, we had agents in there with you!”
“At lower levels, because AIM kept track of that sort of thing. There were human rights violations all over the place. They’re not idiots, Hill. They know what encrypted channels are.”
Maria’s jaw flexes again, and Natasha watches her take a deliberate breath. “You were doing lackey work last week.”
“Believe it or not, I still need money to live, Maria.” She almost thinks Maria flinches at her name, and she tries not to let it show on her face in turn.
Somehow, Maria’s voice is unbearably soft when she speaks, hidden somewhere deep underneath the sharp edges of it, gritted through her teeth. “We would’ve paid you. You could’ve had backup, N–”
“I couldn’t.” She tries to ignore her own name on the edge of Maria’s lips. She doesn’t think she could handle it like this. She doesn’t want the first time she hears it to be marred by animosity. “I don’t want to fight about this here.”
Maria’s face is frighteningly unamused. “Where else do you want to fight about it? Because you avoided SHIELD like the plague when I mentioned it last week.”
“Back on the chimaera. I’m not getting chewed out in front of Tony.”
“Oh no,” Tony laughs from his place near the cockpit, “please continue. I’d love to hear this.”
Maria watches Natasha glare at him and tries not to think about how everyone else here has been listening to them. She knows that they have, she isn’t stupid, but somehow bringing them into the conversation makes her feel very transparent. She wonders what Natasha might have told them since their reunions. She crosses her arms tighter over her chest as if that might help. “We’re only going to have an audience on the chimaera too.”
Natasha almost smiles, still leaning back against the wall as if this isn’t affecting her, as if five years apart has meant absolutely nothing to her. Maria had thought, maybe naively, that Natasha wouldn’t play with her. She’d thought they were open with each other. She just can’t figure out what Natasha would have to lie about in this situation, and it tugs at her to think maybe she simply has moved on.
“I was thinking that we could use the HARM room, seeing as you insist on interrogating me.”
“I’m not inter–” She sighs, barely refraining from dragging a hand over her face. She gestures vaguely instead. “Fine.”
The rest of the journey is just as awkward as the start, and Bruce continues to look like he’d rather be anywhere else. Maria still can’t bring herself to look anywhere else, trying to find any sort of clue in the hard exterior of Natasha. Five years is a long time. She wonders if it’s too far of a distance to bridge again. She wonders if there was a reason that Natasha left in the first place.
Once they land, Natasha continues her silence. She gives Maria a fleeting sort of look that she can’t place at all before she steps down from the jet, and Maria follows her like some sort of lost puppy. A scowling, scary, lost puppy, but devoted nonetheless.
She follows Natasha out of the hangar and along the hallway, and she doesn’t talk to a single person. Many of them greet her, and Maria herself receives the odd few surprised salutes, but Natasha marches onward like she wants this out of the way as soon as possible. Maria had expected her to stall, and she doesn’t know whether to be pleased by Natasha’s newfound enthusiasm or not. That is, until Natasha turns a distinct right at the bottom of the stairs.
“This isn’t the HARM room,” Maria states needlessly as they pass through the door to Natasha’s room. She tries not to hesitate in the doorway.
“I was joking,” Natasha replies without turning around. She tidies up a few things scattered around her desk before leaning back against it. “Am I allowed to wash the blood out of my hair before we do this?”
Suddenly, as Natasha looks at her standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, her arms still crossed, she thinks that she looks overwhelmingly tired. She thinks that the lines under her eyes have gotten much deeper since the last time that she saw her. Her posture is ever so slightly sagged, like she can’t find the strings that usually pull her so tight around everyone else. Natasha can’t tell if that soothes her or not right now. She wishes she would stop glaring so that she could hug her, and it aches behind her ribs that Natasha used to hug her precisely to soothe her, it aches that she doesn’t know whether that would help anymore.
Maria sighs, bone deep. “Of course you can. I’m not your boss.”
Natasha almost smiles. “You used to be. You used to glare at me for skipping medical to shower.”
“The showers weren’t the issue.” She glares at her, softer than anyone else would get, but not quite Natasha soft. Natasha regrets meeting her eyes. “And that was before you disappeared.”
“No one seems to want to let me forget it, as if everyone else didn’t disappear too.” She pushes herself from the desk, crossing in front of her towards her bathroom.
“We still had tabs on everyone else. They didn’t erase all evidence that they even existed beyond the media in less than a week.”
Maria’s jaw ticks again and Natasha has never been able to stand it when she looks at her like this. “Isn’t that why you hired me in the first place?” She turns away, stepping fully into the washroom. “Make yourself at home. Stop standing in the middle of the room.”
The door closes behind her, and Maria continues to stand in the middle of the room. The shower runs on the other side and she tries not to feel like she’s intruding. It’s painful to stand somewhere so wholly Natasha after all this time, little things sprinkled around to remind Maria that maybe she hasn’t changed all that much. Maybe she just wanted to leave.
Still, she was told not to stand in the middle of the room, and she wanders closer to the desk. A music box sits on the edge and Maria reaches a hand out before she can think not to touch it, her fingers stalled an inch away. She folds her arms again and wonders if it’s been here since the incident or whether Natasha took it with her. She wonders whether she missed this music box more than she did her, and suddenly she doesn’t really want to be looking at it. She can still hear the tune in her head, even if she doesn’t open it.
Her bed is around the corner, stacked with soft blankets and pillows, and it’s just a step too far to look at. She still has the blanket in her own quarters at SHIELD, placed there by Natasha in their earlier days. She’d complained that Maria didn’t have anything cosy, and Maria had reminded her that they were in her space and Natasha could have all of the blankets she wanted in her own quarters. Natasha had only laughed, and the next day she’d brought that damned thing with her, and Maria had only ever found it horribly comfortable. It has sat neatly folded over the end of her bed for the last four years and six months.
She makes her way over to the window instead and eyes the beanbag next to her in the corner. It’s surrounded by comics and drawings, and Maria doesn’t have to strain to guess whose they are. For a moment, she’s lost in memories of Natasha and much younger children, of how delicately she’d removed them from active war zones.She’d taken so much care to show them comfort in the short time she knew each of them, all those tiny little strangers given a moment of solace in the gunfire and pain. She’d been so adamant that she didn’t like kids, that they were messy and unruly, and time after time, Maria had seen the softness in her expression in the most disgusting of situations. Every time, she had seen the fury in her eyes once the kids were safe, and she’d seen her swift revenge. Even now, even after five years trying to take down AIM, it had only taken one child in danger for her to tear everything down.
She almost catches herself smiling before the door opens again. Natasha’s hair is still damp around her face, a towel draped over her shoulders, and Maria’s chest aches for the domesticity that she’s missed so vividly. She’s certain that it must show on her face.
Natasha almost wants to laugh for the way that Maria seems to have taken her request so literally. She supposes she never told her to sit, and she is at the edge of the room now. She makes her way over to her bed to find something more presentable to wear than just her underclothes.
“That’s Kamala’s,” she feels the strange urge to explain as Maria’s eyes tear away from the corner. She stares out of the window as if she hasn’t seen Natasha half dressed more times than either of them can count.
“I guessed as much.”
“What? I’m not allowed to read my own comics?”
“You hate being famous.”
She smiles, possibly for the first time today. “Being someone else for five years definitely has its perks.”
Natasha regrets the remark instantly, watching Maria’s eyebrows crease again. Her whole posture seems to tense, a dog in a fight. Somehow, her voice sounds pained. “I looked for you, you know.”
Natasha turns to her properly, bewilderment clear in her own face, and she’s sure there are words she wants to say, her lips parted ready, but nothing rises and it’s all she can do to close her mouth again as Maria laughs bitterly.
“Don’t look so confused, Natasha. Obviously I was going to find you after that. You hate being famous, but you know why they love you so much – you know what they see. All those kids? And then everything with the courts and Bruce. I wanted to make sure you were okay. SHIELD would have offered sanctuary.”
Natasha’s face doesn’t soften any, something defensive rising in her shoulders. “You would’ve been harbouring a criminal.”
Maria almost scoffs, an odd sound in her throat instead. “What else would’ve been new? Natasha–”
“I couldn’t. The press was everywhere, Maria. It was bad enough that they knew I’d been associated with you in the past, you know that. If you’d taken me in, you would’ve been branded an accessory and they would’ve turned on you too. You know better than anyone else how thin the line you walk is. They’re looking for reasons to tear you down, and I wasn’t going to endanger that because I wanted to feel safe.”
“You know as well as I do that they don’t see everything. You went off grid in under a day, you could’ve come to us.”
Natasha grinds her teeth until she reminds herself directly of the woman in front of her. “Look, what I did worked, okay? I was climbing faster than any of your agents. They were trusting me–”
Maria blinks like she’s fighting back tears, something stubborn in the set of her jaw. Her arms remain crossed like some sort of armour. “Did you know there was rumours?”
Natasha pauses, taking her in. “What rumours?”
“That Steve wasn’t the only avenger not to make it out.”
“That’s stupid. I attended every one of those god forsaken hearings.”
“They weren’t released to the public outside of transcripts. You never said anything in them.”
“My attendance would’ve been marked.”
“It’s easy to lie on paper.”
Natasha doesn’t bother to cover the annoyance in her voice. “Why would they try to cover that up?”
“Steve was their golden boy. In a way, him being the only one to sacrifice himself made antagonising you easier.”
“He wasn’t– Any one of us would’ve done the same if we were in the right place–”
“I know that, but that isn’t how they phrased it.”
Natasha scowls. “You still knew that I was there.”
“Of course we did. But we still couldn’t get a hold of you, and then you went up in smoke.” Natasha watches her throat bob ever so slightly. “I can’t say the thought didn’t cross my mind, even if A-day wasn’t the cause.”
“Hill–”
“Why did you leave?”
“What? I just explained why.”
“No. Why did you leave like that.”
Natasha blinks at her, at the tension in her throat. Her eyebrows furrow. “For you. For SHIELD’s integrity. So that you didn’t have to go through the ringer too. I know you put up with it but you hate the press as much as I do, Maria.”
“One call, Natasha. I know what our lives are like. I know you have your reasonings.” She closes her eyes, and Natasha thinks it could almost be five years ago. She thinks they could almost be lying in Maria’s bed again, the evening warm around them and Maria vulnerable in her arms. “One call would’ve been enough.”
“I couldn’t, Maria. I’ve explained it to you as best as I can. I wasn’t going to endanger you for pity money!”
“That isn’t the point,” Maria almost breaks, her face tense and her eyes glossy, and it shatters Natasha’s heart in her chest. Her lip almost trembles before she chews at the inside of her lip, and it suddenly all makes sense.
This was never about SHIELD.
Natasha takes a step closer. “Do you think I didn’t miss you every day? Every time I saw one of your agents I wanted to break my cover.”
“You never called.” She gestures vaguely with one hand, blinking like she’s still trying not to cry. “What was I supposed to think? Hell, a newspaper clipping letter would’ve been enough, Natasha. Anything. Anything to tell me that I didn’t fuck up too. Anything to tell me that you were okay.”
Natasha closes the gap between them. “I am. Look at me, I’m fine. I’m here now.” Maria’s eyes are hard where they meet hers, hurt still caught in the creases of her face, and Natasha brings her hands up to cradle her jaw as softly as all those years ago. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t. You know I couldn’t.”
“I know,” Maria says, so gently that her voice almost breaks. She closes her eyes and Natasha thumbs away the single tear that falls. “It doesn’t make it any better.”
“I know,” Natasha repeats, and then she’s kissing her like she can make up for every single day of these last years.
Maria’s hands rise to grip at her jaw, to pull her in like she might disappear again otherwise, and Natasha lets her own hands slide around to the nape of her neck. She links her arms over her shoulders like she always used to and Maria’s hands almost tremble at her face.
“I’m sorry,” Natasha says to her lips. “Forgive me.”
“Don’t ever do that again,” Maria whispers back.
“You know I can’t promise anything.”
“I know.”
And Maria kisses her again, a hand dropping to Natasha’s back to press her closer. She stumbles backwards to her desk, the edge of it hard against the back of her thighs, and Natasha stands between her legs to kiss her thoroughly. Maria still tastes of gunpowder and rubble, and Natasha grips at her uniform over her back like she might never have to leave again. She holds her close like she can make up for the distance they’ve had to live, and she finds her own chest tight for having her back again.
She presses her face into Maria’s neck as if she might be able to hide from it all, as if the tears in her throat might not find their way to her eyes. “It wasn’t easy, y’know.”
Maria’s hand strokes gently at her back, her other soft at the base of her skull as she holds her to her. “This work never is.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologise anymore.”
Natasha almost laughs, her breath warm over Maria’s skin. “You were the one yelling a minute ago.”
Maria huffs back, and she pokes Natasha gently in the side. “You made me think you were quite possibly dead for five years and then you tried to ignore me.”
“You scowled at me first. I thought you wanted me dead.”
“I thought you’d chosen a great excuse to break up with me in the worst way possible. This is a whole new level of ghosting, Natasha.”
Natasha slaps her shoulder, laughing despite the nerves in her bones. “Shut up. Just be happy I’m back.”
“I am,” Maria admits, whole hearted and terribly soft. Natasha tilts her face back up to kiss her again and Maria hums happily like she always used to. “But I’m microchipping you like a cat.”
Natasha laughs again, more than she thinks she has since A-day itself. “Absolutely not.”
Maria grins back, her eyes dancing around Natasha’s face as if she still can’t believe she’s in front of her. Natasha is sure her own expression is much the same, and she thinks that she has a pretty good excuse to kiss her again. She thinks it’s a darned good excuse if she never stops kissing Maria for the next five years. They’ve got a lot to catch up on, and frankly Natasha still isn’t sure Maria being here isn’t something she’s made up out of sheer longing, but her skin is warm and soft under her hands, and her pleased sounds are almost fuzzy against her lips.
Maria holds her back with just as much urgency, and she barely leaves space for her words when she talks. “Is anyone expecting you?”
Natasha tries not to smirk too widely. “I don’t think anyone is expecting either of us for a while yet.”
It drags a laugh from Maria, breathy against Natasha’s cheek. “I had very innocent intentions.”
“Had?”
“Jarvis?” She almost squints at Natasha, even with her hands still at her jaw.
“Yes, sir?”
“Can you lock the door?”
“Of course, sir.”
Natasha’s eyes are brighter than they’ve been since Maria has laid eyes on her, and it all feels a little more like before, like maybe five years isn’t so much to catch up on.
“So–”
“I’m still getting that information out of you,” Maria insists, even as she lets herself be tugged towards Natasha’s bed.
Natasha threads her fingers into Maria’s hair, the soft crop of it infinitely welcome after so long. “Of course you are.”