Chapter Text
You decide you'll stick to the barn instead of the guest room tonight. The nightmares are still too unpredictable, and you couldn't live with yourself if you did something by accident because of them.
And it's not too bad in the loft. You find the pack Clint was talking about with the bedroll, and a few feet away tucked in the corner is a box labeled 'Nat's Stuff'.
After rolling out the sleeping bag, you open the box and start to snoop. It's both what you expected, and didn't. To outsiders, Natasha may seem standoffish, or cold, but you know the truth. She's guarded, sure, definitely not cold though. The contents remind you of her apartment a bit. There's unsheathed knives, gun grease, nicknacks, as well as sentimental things like pictures. Carefully, you pull out one that looks old. Old enough that you worry the oil from your hands might damage it in some way.
It's a picture of two girls, a smaller one with blonde hair and a slightly older and taller one with darker reddish hair. You recognize the elder of the two as Nat. Her features are different now, rougher and slightly misshapen from being broken so many times, but the similarities are there.
The younger, you realize, must be the sister she told you about.
It takes you back to the conversation the two of you had been having maybe a week and a half before. And the events that followed, with you accepting Wanda's help to try and look into your past. Now that you're allowing yourself to process everything, you're able to identify why you've been so upset these last few days.
You were still recovering from having relived and being re-exposed to the traumas of your time with Hydra, and your anchor, your zhizn moya, was called away.
It's the nature of your reality, though. You can't have expected her to always be able to stay with you, despite that being what you want. But now you feel a little embarrassed that you had regressed so quickly in her absence. Not wanting to beat yourself too much about it though, you pull yourself back to the contents of the box.
The photo, still held gently in your hands, is set off to the side for later. It didn't quite seem like Natasha had been fully over how things were left after she and this girl had been taken back to the Red Room. Maybe this could be a nice memoriam or help with closure? You hope. The next thing you pull out is an old utility belt. Judging by the slightly aged gadgets and black widow symbol on the front, you gather this must be one of, if not the first one, she had worn.
There were still circuits and leftover mags on it, but the fine layer of dust told you it hadn't been touched in a while. It's smaller than what you think her waist is now, and you smile a little at that. She's grown since, still as fierce you imagine, but stronger.
You mess with a couple of other things before settling on one last item.
It takes you a moment, but eventually you realize it's an old iPod. There's a rolled up pair of wired earbuds still wrapped around it too.
Pushing the box away and settling down further into the sleeping bag, you play around with it.
Very quickly you learn that it's dead, but you pull her belt over to you and after messing around with the wiring and zapping yourself a couple of times, you find a way to give the mp3 enough charge that you can look at the music saved on it. The headphones don't play it the best, but you can hear it at least. The beats that come through make you smile, imagining Nat listening to them as she works.
It's not her bed, and she's not with you, but having that piece of her helps you fall asleep just a little bit easier.
It doesn't save you from abruptly waking up a short time later, though it was still longer than you had been getting when you were tucking your knees up to your chest in utility closets at the compound.
Your mind reaches out as you sit up, feeling the family still resting in the house a few yards away. Pointlessly, you try feeling for Natasha. You already know she's too far out of your range, but you hope that maybe she can still feel it. And that maybe you'll feel the way hers sings back, like she had told you it does. It's something you've been trying to do early in the morning and late at night, holding back in between so that you aren't distracting her from the mission just in case she can.
Closing your eyes you try to reach farther, pushing and pushing the limits until you can feel the closest town and all the people there. Ignoring them you feel the tension in your head as you keep feeling for her. Ignoring the immense pressure building in your head, you continue until you no longer can, gasping for air and lifting a hand to your nose when you feel something wet running over your lips.
Blood.
Sighing, you wipe it away with the back of your hand.
You can't read or talk via telepathy like Wanda, but reaching out one last time with Natasha in mind, you call out-
I can't feel you.
You wait as long as you can before picking at some of the chores Clint told you about.
The woodpile he had gestured at yesterday was mostly uncut wood and you're quick to breeze through what was there, stacking the cut pieces up against the barn. By the time he's awake you're already halfway through all the things that could be done.
It takes a few days, but eventually Clint and Laura wear you down enough that you move to the guest room. And they challenge you to do something other than labor or working out when nightmares wake you.
You're pretty sure it's a lie, but Laura tells you you're waking the kids when you go down the stairs at night and sneak outside. Sure, maybe the first night when you had to learn where the floor creaks and whines, except after that you'd learned the ways to step to avoid making any noises. As an alternative, she gives you puzzle boxes and brain teaser toys. It feels a bit childish, but even you have to admit it helps at least a little.
You find yourself getting comfortable again. Being 'forced' to stay in your room overnight now, you take apart the puzzles and toys, rebuilding them over and over until your mind quiets. Each meal you're in the kitchen with Laura, or sometimes Clint, watching and learning how to make different things. You still do your morning and night call outs to Nat, but you're not as miserable as you had been.
It's one evening right after dinner when you let the energy reach out, doing your usual routine of letting it flow out in all directions. Only now, you go ramrod straight. It's in the middle of a board game you had joined everyone to play, drawing the attention of the family. It takes you a moment to react beyond that, your eyes wide as you check again to make sure you had felt that right.
The archer watches the blue light swirl in your eyes as you use your ability.
Clint calls your name but you're racing outside before he can ask what's wrong.
You hardly even give her enough time to land the quinjet. As soon as the bay door opens you run in, nearly tackling her from where she's walking towards you.
She laughs, the vibration has you squeezing a little tighter. You can't control your ability either, only feeling how it wraps around the shape of her soul, twisting with it as it responds and dances along yours.
"I missed you," the foreign words leave you and press into the skin of her neck as you hold her and she holds you.
"I missed you too, lyubov," Natasha whispers back, pulling away enough to press the petals of her lips to the left edge of your own.
And you don't think you've ever felt your face as hot as it gets when you feel them turn up in a smile at your stunned silence.