marvel oneshots

romanoff | when the wind blows in october ( a )

summary - she had been everything to you. in one night she became nothing. nobody. no amount of time could erase the three years you spent loving her as a kid in ohio.

word count - 0.9k

Your life was in Ohio. Your home was in Ohio. Your job, however, was on the Northern East Coast. Life in Ohio had been everything you needed it to be. It was slow. It was tasteless. It was everything that happened in old black and white movies. What Ohio wasn't, was her. Her. Twenty one years later and you can still see her shadow dancing in your dreams. Her green eyes. Her blue hair. You'd gotten in so much trouble for that. There are some days where you forget her name. Where you forget her memory. But she's always inside of you. She makes up the best parts of yourself even if you don't realize it anymore.

New York City has its perks. It also has its downfalls. Albeit the salary, your job was pretty boring, and pretty lonely. Being employed by the world's most top-secret (not at all) hidden spy organization was as exciting as it sounds, however being Maria Hills personal assistant wasn't. You adored the woman; the work being done around you. You didn't enjoy the integrated sexism. The lack of a challenge. The confidentiality. For Asgards sake, you majored in computer science, so despite technically having a desk job and emails to sort, you felt less then. Your shifts consisted of being fed classified information and being told to sit on your ass and get her a coffee. Not exactly a lifestyle that opened the door to having many friends.

When Nick Fury recruited you- yes Nicholas J. Fury, active director of SHIELD, himself- it was safe to assume that you'd expected at least a little more than this quaint isolating life. This life reminded you of her. She would've liked it. She. Natasha. The hard to amuse little girl from your childhood. Your first crush. The reason you've become so passionate about this job. The reason you haven't been able to trust since you were seven. She'd just up and left. No goodbye. Not even a brief look back at your fading blue hair.

Into your adult years, you exhausted the resources you had to find her. Nothing. She'd become a ghost. A shadow dancing on street corners. Even now, when the wind blows in October, there are some nights that you can still hear her whistling. You just wanted to know what happened to her. What happened to little Yelena. Why the night a piece of your heart became a ghost your little town flooded. Russian spies, your mother had scoffed.

For years it hadn't mattered the extent of your research. Nothing would make sense if it didn't come from her. You wanted her back. Her dry jokes. Her scratchy laugh; deep voice. Her butterflies. You hadn't felt butterflies like that since she'd disappeared. Natasha was your everything. But your life did go on without her. That's probably what broke you the most. You could miss her with a deep unbearable ache, but still you succeeded and accomplished and loved and lost. Still you grew.

"Agent." You didn't hear Maria approach. You didn't hear her tap the thick manilla folder on your desk. You didn't hear her call for you. You felt her stare. The older woman's features were amused. Your cheeks were hot. "It's your big day, Agent. Fury wants you in 37E. Approximately five minutes ago."

37E. Your heart stopped. Your thoughts clouded. Interrogation. Big Room. Fury. Nicholas J. Fury wanted you in the largest interrogation room on site. He'd used the words 'big day'. Your eyes mimicked Ohio forest stars. Forest stars. That name had never left your heart. Maria laughed. She'd grown fond of you quickly, but you were a hard to read book. Innocent. Entirely too good at being alone. She found herself mesmerized by you more times than she understood you.

"Yes ma'am." And then you were gone. Just like her.

37E was approximately seven minutes from your station if you took the stairs; nine if you took the elevator. You'd made it in four. Your hair was disheveled: from leaning into your palm at your desk or walking so purposefully to the interrogation room, you weren't sure. Your heart skipped. Your hands clenched. You were so ready for this opportunity.

The manilla folder beneath your arm felt heavy. Hot. It burned your skin the longer you left it tucked away. You'd never gotten the chance to look at that manilla folder. If you did, maybe you would've been prepared for what you saw. For who you saw.

Red hair. Red hair that used to be blue. Green eyes. Blonde hair that used to be shorter. Her. America's greatest heroes. Yelena. Yellow shirt. Red converse. Eyes that used to be softer. Natasha. Your heart sank to your stomach. The folder fell to your feet. You'd seen her before. The black widow. The Avengers. After the battle of New York their faces were everything. She had been everywhere. She had never been right in front of you. She had never been with her. She had never dressed like this. How had you not seen it. How did you miss it. All these years she'd been beneath your pinky. All these years she'd been more than just a shadow in your nightmares.

"Natasha." Her name left your lips like razor blades. You wanted to slap her. You wanted to kiss her. You wanted to hit her until she felt even a morsel of the anguish you've lived with for two decades. You were frozen in the doorway. Natasha was frozen. Yelena was smirking, though notably pale faced.

"D-Do you know each other?" That was the question that pulled you back. That grabbed your heart and squeezed. That burned your eyes with tears. Did you know her? Maybe once upon a time. Maybe twenty-one years ago in Ohio. Maybe- Natasha answered before you.

"We used to."