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"Momma?"
Standing behind Natasha was Wanda, clad in her Aladdin nightgown, rubbing her eyes sleepily.
Natasha went over to her daughter and bent down until their faces were level. "Hey, ladybug. What are you doing up?"
"I wanted a glass of water," came the soft reply.
"Okay, I'll get you a cup." The young woman took her daughter's hand in her own and they both walked into the kitchen. Wanda sat on the stool at the kitchen island and waited for her mother to get her a cup.
Natasha paused and looked back at Wanda curiously. "How about some warm milk? That'll help you fall back asleep."
"Okay." The little girl nodded her head and placed her hands on the countertop.
A few minutes later, Natasha handed the mug of heated milk with a bit of added sugar and vanilla in it to her daughter. Wanda drank it slowly and her mother ran a hand through her hair. "Did you have another nightmare, sweetie?"
Wanda took a few more sips of her beverage before replying, "Yes. It was about daddy." She looked at the ground and bit her lip.
I was afraid of that, Natasha thought to herself sadly. Three months had passed since Natasha's husband, and Wanda's father, Steve, died on a mission gone wrong in Belarus.
The entire world had mourned the loss of Captain America. He was an icon and paragon of everything good about America, but only his friends and family were the ones who truly knew him.
For Wanda, losing her father, her hero had been devastating. The two had been inseparable like two peas in a pod. Now that he was gone, she felt like a part of her heart would always be empty because her daddy was no longer there every day, filling her up with his presence.
And for Natasha, it was worse. She and Steve hadn't even been married for ten years when that fateful day arrived. He had been her perfect half, the one man who understood her better than anyone else. Natasha had lost so much in her life that she once believed she could never have something wonderful. She had that in Steve, but he'd been stolen from her and there was nothing she could do to get him back.
It was more painful for her to remember how happy they were during the days they found out Wanda was growing inside Natasha's belly. All the quiet talks she and Steve shared in bed together, talking about filling the house with four or five mini mini versions of themselves. None of them would ever come true now.
The only thing that Natasha had to keep her going was Wanda. She was all she had left of Steve now.
She really didn't want to ask, but Natasha felt that it was best for both she and Wanda to speak openly about their struggles when it came to Steve's absence from their lives. It sometimes helped make things easier. "Do you want to talk about it?"
An emphatic shake of the head was Wanda's answer.
"Alright, sweetie. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but you don't have to be afraid to tell me anything. I love you and we can always talk to each other, okay? I don't want you to feel like not talking about daddy makes me feel better. Any time that you want to talk about daddy or look at our family album, just tell me and we can do it together, alright?"
Wanda just nodded and sat silently for a moment, lying her head on her mother's arm and slipped her tiny hands around her waist. For a while, they just stood there, neither saying a word. "I just miss him, momma," she said quietly.
Those words tugged at Natasha's heartstrings and she placed her hand over her daughter's smaller one, squeezing it reassuringly. "I know, baby, I know. I miss him, too. It's hard to move on, knowing that he's not there when you need him." She began to rub Wanda's back soothingly.
"I miss hugging him every day and helping him cook when you're busy with work. And when he would give me advice on how to deal with bullies and read me stories before I went to bed." Wanda sniffled and wiped her eyes, but the tears kept falling regardless. "He was the best dad in the whole world."
Natasha closed her eyes and breathed out evenly for a few moments. It wouldn't do for her to have a complete breakdown in front of Wanda. The girl was already in enough pain. "Yes, he was. And he was the best husband, too. We were a great family."
Wanda nodded, but grabbed onto her mother's hand, her lip trembling as she said, "We still are, momma."
Oh, God.
A little gasp left Natasha's mouth and she fought the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes. Instead, she smiled sadly at her daughter and carefully changed the subject. "Do you remember the gift daddy gave you for your sixth birthday? It was a shield necklace, like the shield he fought with. He told you that any time you wanted to talk to him and he wasn't there, you could just hold that little shield in your hand and talk as if he were right there with you. Do you remember why he said that?"
Wanda's eyes were sleepy, but she mumbled, "Because he lives in my heart."
"That's right. He lives in your heart and my heart, too. As long as we remember the happy times with daddy, he'll never really leave us." Natasha saw her daughter's eyelids begin to flutter and she scooped the child into her arms and carried her to bed.
As she tucked Wanda in, she placed a loving kiss on the girl's brow. "Sweet dreams, honey," Natasha whispered, voice thick with emotion. Then she turned and exited her daughter's room and headed back to the kitchen. With the flick of her hand, the light switch was off and she went to her bedroom and changed for bed.
After she was dressed in her nightgown, she picked up the large picture frame on her bedside table and ran her finger along the glassy surface. It was an older picture, taken back when Natasha was six months pregnant with Wanda. Steve was holding on to her hips with both hands and pressing a tender kiss to her belly.
Tears fell down Natasha's face and her vision became cloudy due to the continuous flow of tears. Instead of putting it down, she held the picture close to her heart and curled up in a fetal position on her bed. The grip she had on the metal frame would leave angry red marks on her skin, but she didn't care.
The pain was still raw. Maybe it would always be like this. All Natasha knew was that her life was gone from colorful and vibrant to a dismal grey and if not for the little girl who lie asleep in her bedroom across the hall, Natasha would have no reason to live.
In time, she would pick up the pieces of her life. It would be a process, as everything was, working things out day by day. But her world would never be the same again.
And that's what made her cry herself to sleep every night.
