he was the one • winterwidow

⊱ four ⊰

- sparks / coldplay -

As said he would, Clint made his way toward the bar for karaoke fifteen minutes before nine, when it started. Sharon stayed behind a while to make sure everything was unpacked and anything important was safely stored in the safe beneath the wardrobe at the far end of the hallway outside the bathroom door.

Through the other side of that door, Nat was looking directly at the mirror above the sink, wondering how she ended up in this position. Seeing even the slight glimpse of the Red Room that she did made her mind race, heart hammering against her rib cage anytime she even remotely let her thoughts drift away. It was like being back in that very room. The room where it all happened. Where she graduated.

It was all so blurry.

Her memories of the Red Room were a complete oblivion.

But, after seeing it again, it seemed to slowly come back feeling at a time. Ripping at her heart whenever it did, taking away what made her, her once again.

A hard, harsh knock brought her back to reality. She was safe. She wasn't there anymore: and never will be back there again.

"Tasha?" A familiarly soft voice drew her back to her reflection. She wasn't that little girl anymore. She wasn't just another black widow. She was Natalia Romanova. She had a name. "Can I come in?"

Slightly rasped voice almost making her jump when she heard it leave her lips, Nat responded. "'Course. It's open."

As the background behind Nat shifted in the reflection, a feminine silhouette was now visible in the threshold, leaning against the door.

"You know, we're missing Clint's performance," Sharon sent a sympathetic smile her best friends way as she spoke. "You okay?"

Pressing her palms into the white steal underneath her, Nat glanced down at the sink. She couldn't bear eye contact. Not now. Instead, she nodded, words suddenly failing her as they caught in her throat.

Sharon uncrossed her arms, slowly making her way behind Nat as she reached for a silver chain on the side of the surface next to them both.

Reaching her hands in front of her, Sharon brought both ends of the necklace back and clipped it behind Natasha's neck so the small arrow was visible at the base of her neck.

Gently collecting Nat's hair that was previously brushed over one shoulder, Sharon picked up the small, black brush and ran it through the red locks a few times.

"You look pretty tonight. I bet all eyes are going to be on you." Sharon spoke quietly, yet loud enough for Nat to hear.

Soft chuckle leaving her lips, Nat looked up once again. "That's the last thing I want."

Scoffing slightly, Sharon placed both hands on Nat's shoulders, reminding her carefully that she was there. "You could be wearing Clint's Sex and the City sweatshirt and everyone'd still look at you. You're gorgeous, Romanoff, you know that?"

"You're pure on the inside and out," Nat met her gaze through the mirror. "Steve's lucky to have you."

"I'm lucky to have him breathing," Sharon laughed. "And I'm lucky to see you here right now. You deserve this, Nat. What happened to you all those years ago it... it doesn't define you. Remember that."

Nat thought for a moment.

Sharon was right but so, so far off.

Natalia had never knew a version of herself that wasn't built in the Red Room. No one did, realistically. The way she is was all formed on that. No matter how many times she tried to escape it, her past was still there.

But so was her future.

Why dwell on the past when the rest of the road was right in front of you?

Nat nodded, eventually regaining her previous posture and standing tall once again.

What would she do without Sharon?

Or Clint, for that matter.

They were both her world. Everyone she'd ever known had left at some point but, them? They were always there.

And showed no signs of leaving.

"Let's go watch Barton embarrass the shit out of himself."

"That's the spirit."