Chapter Text
Natasha Trace was never the sentimental type. Not openly at least. Her heart never lingered on things that weren’t worth her time. Things that couldn’t change. Things that had past. She wasn’t very nostalgic. Occasionally she’d smile when a song from her childhood would come on the radio; like when Selena would pop up on one of her playlists. And even then, those memories were filled with mixed feelings. Her childhood wasn’t this beautiful memory filled with ignorant bliss. Natasha always saw through the haze that others just couldn’t seem to get past.
And longing? Natasha Trace had never “longed” for anything. She worked to get what she wanted. Worked hard for every little thing she had. Nothing was free. And longing for something always seemed to just be a waste of time.
But then, of course fate would have it, she’d meet the one and only Bradley Bradshaw: the definition of sentiment, nostalgia, and longing tied up into one messy bow of a man. Natasha Trace had a plan going into the Navy, adorned with benchmarks and milestone to be met at a specific time and date. Bradley didn’t fit within this plan, yet she surprised herself when finding out she didn’t mind.
He rubbed off on her, though she wouldn’t dare admit it. Now, she didn’t become soft, but… well…
There was a reason why she was sitting on a ledge overlooking the aircraft carrier rather than sitting in her bunk prepping for this suicide mission. There was a reason why she was sitting next to him as they watched the sun set.
It had become their tradition. No words. Just comfortable silence as the sun would set. No matter how many times they did this—found the highest point they could reach on the naval ship and sit next to each other while looking out on the horizon— it was never the same experience twice. Everything from the smell of the wind to the color of the light to the way his hand would sometimes settle upon her own, or his arm would press against her’s, or their legs would touch, or sometimes (if Natasha felt bold) she’d rest her head on his shoulder, it was different. Completely, utterly, unique.
And this time.
For the first time.
It felt like goodbye.
Like she might not experience this again.
Like it could be their last sunset.
So Natasha decided to be bold, and rest her entire body against his. Somehow she ended up with her head in the crook of his arm, practically in his lap, feeling the rise and fall of his chest. Alive. Well. Safe. She could hear his heartbeat.
She had never laid against him like this before. She liked it. It felt right.
And he didn’t do anything to stop it. Or move it. Or change it.
She even caught this fond glimpse in his eye. A soft look she had never seen before. But she didn’t say anything. It would ruin the moment.
But even Natasha knew. Natasha Trace, who wasn’t sentimental or nostalgic, knew that she’d long to experience this moment again if she had the power to do so.
***
“What’s the story with you and him?” Bob asked, practically out of the blue, however he had this thoughtful gleam in his eyes that made Natasha think differently.
She stood outside on the deck, holding a drink in her hand. A “celebratory” drink that Penny said was on the house, because, by a miracle from God, they all survived the suicide mission. Even Bradley, who nearly got himself killed because of sentiment.
It’s not that Natasha wasn’t heartbroken at the thought of Maverick dying. She had grown to care for him, see him almost as a father figure in more ways that one. Yet when Bradley decided to go back for him, nothing had made her heart drop into her gut faster. With every ounce of her being she was begging him not to leave her in her head: a continuous mantra of “don’t go, don’t leave me, don’t leave me alone to mourn you, don’t go” on repeat. And supposedly they didn’t read each other’s minds as well as everyone joked, because without a second thought he was gone.
And when she saw the smoke coming from his plane, crashing into the snow covered wilderness below, she had to swallow in a scream. The tears, however, still made its way past her desperate defenses.
“We’re not dating,” she explained, almost annoyed as she took a sip.
Everyone always assumed they were together. So much so it had become a default phrase in her vocabulary, especially in a bar setting, “We’re just friends. Lifelong it feels like.”
Bob nodded, “I know. But that’s not what I asked.”
Natasha rolled her eyes at him, taking another sip. But she couldn’t help but smile at her WSO. Plus, he was right (as he was most times all the time).
“Most people think we are, even back when we were first becoming friends,” she added.
“And I’m not surprised, but I can tell you aren’t,” he shrugged.
At that, Natasha’s interest was piqued. She knew her WSO was observant. One of the most observant people she’s ever met, and incredibly intelligent as well. But her and Bradley, as Hangman would say, were an enigma. She was curious to see what her wizzo thought.
“How?”
“You hold back around him, just enough that it’s noticeable,” he shrugged taking a sip from an iced-tea Penny had poured him a few minutes ago.
“Only if you’re paying attention,” he added quickly.
“And you always are,” Natasha sighed, but she said it with a genuine smile.
Very little people truly noticed her for who she really was. Being a woman in uniform seemed to always become a smokescreen to most people, clouding their judgements, bringing stereotypes and sexism to the forefront. But Bob, sweet Bob, saw through to her.
“So are you gonna tell me, or am I gonna have to stick to my guesses?” he brought her right back to where they started.
If she was going to be honest, truly 100% honest, with anyone it would be Bob. There were some blessings that came with this mission, and meeting Bob, becoming his friend and discovering a person she could truly rely on fully was one of them.
“We met first year of Naval Academy, both of us there for different reasons but with the same goal, and we kind of clung to each other when we realized we did need support and couldn’t just push through on our own. And I guess this created some dependency, I don’t know,” she started, trying not to ramble about Bradley. Something that Halo said she did far too often. “I mean, there were moments, a lot of them especially in the beginning of our friendship, that I saw him in a different light, but… I mean I didn’t allow myself to consider it. Or I tried not to.”
“Have you ever thought about, well, telling him?” Bob asked carefully.
“I have. I did. Right at the end of Naval Academy,” she nodded.
At that Natasha can detect an ounce of surprise on Bob’s features. She found it a bit amusing if she’s being honest.
“He essentially gave me a whole, ‘It’s not you it’s me,’ and the ‘I’m not even thinking about a relationship because I’m mentally fucked,’ spiel and though it broke me in the moment, I figured out how to move on and our friendship didn’t skip a beat,” she finished, almost too easily, as if everything was rehearsed.
She could tell, it made him skeptical.
“I don’t believe it,” he muttered.
“What part?”
“That he isn’t in love with you and that you actually moved on.”
“I don’t know what to tell you Bob, it’s the truth,” Natasha shrugs.
“So you’re telling me that if he asked you out right now, you wouldn’t say ‘yes’? Or, hell, if he asked you to marry him you wouldn’t say ‘yes’?” he asked.
“Woah, woah, those are completely different circumstances, and… and marriage?!”
“You’ve known each other over a decade! You’re way past a talking stage!” Bob argued.
Natasha took another sip of her drink, hoping for an ounce of liquid courage to just get the words out that have been stuck in her mind for that longer half of a decade.
“Honestly? I guess I’m getting tired of waiting. I’m getting tired of hoping there might just be something, only for me to be let down over and over and over again,” she began, pushing her loose hair away from her face as it blew in the oceanside wind.
For once they gathered in their civies, making this conversation feel all that more real. Civies meant choice. They weren’t required to hang out as a group, yet their detachment team was a textbook case for trauma bonding. Can’t even go out for a casual drink away from each other.
“I guess I just… it’s stupid, really stupid, but I guess I thought… I figured,” Natasha let out another breath, “someday he might just love me. I figured he’d love me.”
And just like that the words were stolen from her mouth and dispersed into the ocean breeze. The admittance feeling both freeing and heavy at the same time.
“You figured he’d love you like you love him,” Bob added.
“What?” she looked up at him, eyes in alarm.
“C’mon Phe, just… look. I see how much you care about him—“
“It doesn’t mean—“
“I saw you that evening, before the mission,” he interrupts, silencing whatever Natasha was about to say. “At one of the balconies close to the top of the ship. I was trying to find you to discuss last minute details, and Hangman of all people pointed me in the right direction. Said you both watch the sunset together on every detachment.”
“See, and—“
He held his hand up, silencing her again for a moment.
“I saw the way you looked up at him. Like you were trying to memorize every part of him and your gaze was so soft, I’ve… I guess I’ve never seen you look so at peace and calm and just content. But you also had a hint of this look in your eye, this determined look, like you’d sacrifice everything for him. And then when he went down…”
Natasha looked down at her drink, almost ashamed.
“I’m not blind Phe. You did your best to try to hold it all together, but if I had just witnessed somebody I loved getting hit by a SAM and crashing below me… I would’ve cried too, sobbed even.”
“Then you know I wanted to.”
She felt Bob’s hand on her back, his arm over her shoulder, slowly turning her until she was hugging him. And with any other person she would feel ashamed for admitting this, but it felt good to get this off her chest.
“Why do you think he’s in love with me?” she eventually asked, almost timidly, like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to know.
“Aside from so many other signs, like constantly trying to get your approval, or following you around like a lost puppy, even now.”
Natasha watched through the window as Bradley moved through the crowded bar, clearly searching.
“I saw how he held you and looked at you that evening. Nobody looks at their best friend’s lips like that,” Bob shrugged, like the answer was clear as day.
“But we’ve been friends, just friends, for so long. What if I’m wrong about this? What if you’re wrong?” Natasha can’t help but overthink.
“What if we’re right?”
“Did you start this conversation knowing your end goal was gonna be trying to convince me to talk to him?” she questioned, her eyebrow arched.
“And if I did…?”
“Bob!”
“What? I’ve watch you pine over him for far too long!” he defended.
At that Natasha shook her head, “I do not pine.”
“Whatever you tell yourself—“
“Hey, Nat?” Bradley had opened the door, now also stepping onto the deck, “Um. Bob is it okay if I talk with Phoenix for a sec?”
“Yeah, of course,” but before he could leave Bob turned her to, and whispered into her ear, “Maybe this whole near death experience, as horrible as it was, made him realize who’s really important in his life, and why you shouldn’t be taken for granted.”
The words themselves nearly brought her to tears as she hugged him for only a few seconds, yet as tightly as she could.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
And then, just like that he was gone, and it was time for her to face the music.