Teeth (READ DISCLAIMER)

Chapter 1: Teeth

Losing her brother did nothing to endear Wanda Maximoff to Natasha Romanoff.

Sure, she felt something akin to a twinge of sympathy when she saw Wanda's haunted, puffy eyes each morning in the kitchen, but that was about the extent of it. When these feelings did prickle at her conscience, she shut them out forcefully and willed herself to remember what pain Wanda was capable of inflicting. Natasha relived the horrors of her past much more frequently now due to the manipulation of her mind at the hands of the little witch and that was not something she could forgive or forget.

So no, Natasha was never going to drop her barriers around Wanda or even comfort her, but being civil was something she could manage.

Her training ensured that any emotion, even those she couldn't name anymore, could be locked away and forced into tidy compartments in her head. Natasha's mind was an organised, complex database that allowed her to carry out her work with maximum efficiency and minimum complications.

Her relationships with the team were neat and one-sided. She cared for them all and would die for them if necessary; she offered advice and support and protected them fiercely but would still never unleash her own inner turmoil on them. Natasha would never allow herself to become that vulnerable again, would never allow herself to be pitied or for anyone to see the monster she really is.

Bruce Banner was another matter altogether.

They had all unexpectedly turned up at the Barton's farm, taking refuge after being mentally tortured by Ultron's circus twins and Natasha couldn't keep her stony facade in check. She felt a rush of gratitude and warmth when she saw Laura and the kids which quickly disintegrated as soon as she was alone. Sitting in her allocated room she collapsed to the floor, rocking herself back and forth as her tears fell to the ground. Images conjured by Wanda's red tendrils flashed through her mind at an alarming rate. Snow. Blood. Handcuffs. A gun pointed at a man, a woman, a child. An operating table. Ballet shoes. Blood. Madame B. You are made of marble. She heard gunshots and screaming, felt her finger squeeze the trigger and watched the bullet tear through her first victim. Natasha was 10 at the time, her victim 8.

She choked out a muffled sob and wrapped her arms around herself, drawing blood on her arms where her manicured nails had dug in.

10 minutes was all she allowed herself to grieve for those she killed, for herself, for the life she never had and the harrowing choices she had made. Even with her mind clouded in anguish and pain she had the mental presence to pull herself back, to lock it all away and throw away the key. She could not be broken, she could not be fazed and she could not be affected. "Natalia" she chanted over and over in her mind like a prayer. I am made of marble.

She saw Bruce coming out of the shower and smiled softly at him. He was everything she was and everything she was not. He was a monster too. He had killed and maimed indiscriminately. But he was kind and caring and capable of true human emotion. He was capable of love. Bruce and The Hulk were easily distinguishable; Natasha and Natalia were blurred together as one.

Natasha could feel the shame and remorse radiate off him in waves and she was struck with a desire to connect with this monster; this man that may be able to see past her facade and help her confess her sins.

In hindsight, Natasha was never particularly attracted to Bruce.

She saw her own regret and disgust at herself reflecting in him and naively thought they could run away together and atone for their wrongdoing. She gravitated towards Bruce because she instinctively knew he wanted to run and she knew herself well enough to know she couldn't do that alone. Bruce was her friend and colleague and she cared for him, but she didn't love him or have romantic feelings for him. Natasha saw her salvation in Bruce. Two monsters, unable to have children, unnatural killers, alone in the world together. It was almost poetic for a minute.

Natasha wasn't sure she'd genuinely had feelings for another human being before. From a tender age she had been taught to seduce and use sex as a means to an end; for information, for power, even for pleasure but never for love. Natasha knew she wasn't capable of love; she often pondered in the darkness whether she was born that way or whether the red room moulded her like that. Nature or Nurture? She was content with never knowing the answer to that particular question.

The closest she could ever get to love were the Avengers. She realised after Sokovia that the Avengers were her salvation. Perhaps they would be Wanda's too.

It had been two weeks since the events of Sokovia and the team had mostly welcomed Wanda with open arms. Steve and Clint pestered her about eating and tried to encourage her to spend time with the group. Sam was always around with a one liner and a wink to try and raise a smile from the grieving girl. Tony, understandably, gave her a wide berth due to him being indirectly responsible for her parent's untimely death. Vision seemed to bring Wanda the most comfort, quietly conversing with her and murmuring profound words of wisdom into her ear.

For the most part, Wanda stayed in her room which suited Nat down to the ground. She very rarely ate in the communal area and when she did she would hover on the outskirts of the group, eyes cast down and hands wringing together, waves off anxiety and sadness rolling off her. Her grief was palpable and the girl seemed lost, empty.

Wanda's anxiety seemed to increase whenever Natasha was in range. She could feel the girl's eyes follow her around the room, a desperate apology always on the tip of her tongue. Natasha had no desire for apologies; the damage had been done. She would accept Wanda and her powers as part of the team, part of the Avengers even but nothing more. They would work together, fight together and live together, Natasha knew she had no power to change this. She trusted Steve's judgement and had to admit that the little witch had been invaluable in Sokovia, despite the fact the twins were inadvertently responsible for the destruction caused there, and if she could be trusted then Wanda would be an asset to them. As long as she kept her distance from Natasha then the fragile civility would remain.