Natasha Romanoff (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
widows_kiss) wrote2012-11-12 09:54 pm
widows_kiss) wrote2012-11-12 09:54 pm
Entry tags:
Appointments Post
~ STANDING APPOINTMENTS ~
Daily:
Early morning run
CH5 Avengers Breakfast
Training Session at the Battle Dome
Other:
Friday: 8AM Coffee Date with Pepper
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[It's both true and not true, but his question doesn't have an easy answer, and she wouldn't know where to start, even if it did. The day's left her in a whirlwind of confusion, of complicated and conflicting emotions so tangled that she doesn't know where to begin in unraveling them.]
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[He takes a step towards her, moving slowly, giving her time to accept that he's there and not a threat. It takes a while sometimes, even after recognising a friend.]
Nothing like Barney was nothing.
[Because that had been nothing, nothing right up until it had been something.]
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[The words were quiet and wry, because they'd both known it, and at least falling back on sarcasm allowed her to show she wasn't feeling threatened. Not by him, at least. Her weapon vanished and she crossed her arms defensively over her chest, leaning back against the wall and diverting her gaze, because he's got that look on his face. The one that made her wish she'd entered with far more care, because she wasn't ready for this conversation yet. She wasn't even sure how to have this conversation.]
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No, it never was. If it was nothing, I'd never have heard you come in.
[He leans up on the wall next to her, head turned so that he can watch her, keep an eye on her reactions.]
Okay, so, is it the kind of nothing where we try to kill each other, or the kind of nothing where we get really drunk?
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I don't want to think about death tonight. Drunk sounds like a much better option.
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We can do that. Give me a few minutes. I have a bottle of vodka waiting just for you.
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Vodka would be good tonight. I think I will change out of... this, in the meantime.
[She motions down at the kimono she wears. Which she's coming to love, but tonight... she's already feeling strange enough and this is not her. So she'll curl up in something warm and familiar. Perhaps steal another of Clint's shirts, one that smells like him. And then promptly try to forget the rest of it for the night.]
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Sounds like a plan. Not sure how comfortable that is to lounge around in.
[Sure, it looks great on her, most things do, but it's a costume, a mask.
He brushes her shoulder lightly as he pulls away and heads back downstairs. The bottle of vodka is still in his wardrobe, mostly untouched since he got it. He's been avoiding drinking alone, or even around the apartment. Feels too much like... well.
He knocks lightly on the door when he returns.]
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I get a knock this time? You really must be worried.
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That such a bad thing? Besides, I'm not the one who sneaks into people's apartments and just waits for them to show up.
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[She's come home to find him passed out on her couch or on her bed and one time on the floor. The banter draws a wan smile to her lips as she nudges his shoulder, but she remains curled up, her legs wrapped protectively about her knees, as if she can't get warm.]
You worry too much.
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[Mainly because despite owning an apartment, he still mostly lived out of a bag and his apartment barely looked any different to when he'd started living there.
He just looks at her for a moment, the way she's sitting, and that tells him enough.]
It's nice to have people to worry about.
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[Her tone is slightly wry as she rests her chin atop her knees, all too still. One shoulder lifts, halfhearted, at his comment.]
Sometimes it is, yes. Although usually that is my job.
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[He tilted his head slightly and moves closer so that their shoulders are just touching.]
Which means that when the tables are turned, it means something's gone really wrong. What happened?
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[It's said matter-of-factly, but his question has her falling silent again, trying to decide how to explain. What to explain. If she even could, or should. Finally, choosing her words with care, she answers softly.]
I encountered a ghost today. Someone from my past.
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[He doesn't try to force the issue, or push her to speak before she feels ready. He's patient when it comes to important things.]
Your past. You mean...?
[He doesn't really need to elaborate. Before SHIELD, before being a mercenary and spy because he can't imagine a mere having causing such a reaction in her.]
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Yes. Before. [She nods in confirmation, knowing what he was asking without him needing to voice it. Then again, there is very little he doesn't know about her life after she came to SHIELD. They experienced it all together. She hesitates, then continues.]
Someone... important.
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[He'd survived on his own for a long time. He liked having someone to watch his back and be his partner.
He raises an eyebrow when she says that. There's something about the way she says it...]
Someone good. Otherwise you'd be angry. Or cold.
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[Her gaze drops, because again, 'good' is relative. And she's feeling too shaken to be angry or cold. Or the cold she feels is a much different sort than what she might normally show. An ache that made it hurt to breathe, if she let it. But it was still... something]
Possibly the only thing good to ever come out of Before.
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[This has him more worried than he cares to let on. She's so rarely shaken, so rarely lets anything touch her like this.]
It didn't go well, did it? They didn't recognise you, or their... feelings have changed.
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[She gives a dry laugh, humorless, her arms tightening faintly, just barely noticeable, and she shoots a sharp smile at the floor.]
Something like that. You did warn me that they messed with time here. Especially since you don't remember the invasion. Maybe I should have expected it, but I didn't expect quite that much of a gap.
[She falls silent a moment, still, but when she speaks again, her voice is soft, holding a faint note of wistful regret.]
He didn't recognize me, no. But that's because he's never met me. Not yet. Maybe not for a long time.
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[She looks fragile, even though he knows it's an illusion. Even on her worst day, she's a match for him.
He licks his lips, not sure how to respond to that. The whole situation is fucked up. He can't imagine how he'd feel if Natasha had been brought here from before ever meeting him.]
Christ, I'm sorry sweetheart. I... what do you need me to do?
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[She laughs and ducks her head before giving him a lopsided smile, her eyes shadows]
What's to be done? We'll just continue on as we have been. I can't... [She hesitates again, then shakes her head, fingers curling against her knees.]
I don't think I can tell him. I'm not sure I want to. No one should know what lies ahead for them, and in this case especially...
It just came as such a shock. He looked so different. So much... happier. Innocent. I can't... There's nothing I can do, Clint.
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[The stable life does not suit them one bit. They'd both go crazy.
He leans forward, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.]
Can you keep going knowing that he doesn't remember? Are you gonna be able to interact with him knowing it?
[Because honestly, if it would help her, he'd figure out some way of making it right.]
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[She can't help it, his touch makes her ache and her breath hitches, her eyes sliding closed. She knows what that question means, what lengths he'd go to for her, even without her asking him. he understands, even without her voicing anything.]
He's happy, Clint. I won't be the one that breaks that in him. Not without a very desperate reason.
[That makes it -him- all the more precious, somehow, no matter how painful or bittersweet the rest of it is.]
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