The Shadow [a marvel fanfiction]

Civil War: Chapter Five

Natasha brought Marie to another grey room, devoid of any color or personality, and kept her back to her as she changed. It was similar enough to Marie's old S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform that she paused, running her fingers over the cool fabric. She remembered how Maria Hill complained about the original uniform fabric and harassed Fury until he issued new uniforms. With a small frown, she pulled it up over her waist.

Marie crossed the room to the small sink. She ran the cold, biting water and scrubbed at the blood, dirt, and gravel on her hands before moving to her arms. In the mirror, she briefly examined the blood caked on her face. She splashed water on her face until the water went from brown to clear. When she looked up again, Natasha stood a few feet behind her.

She focused on washing herself and astutely avoided Nat's gaze and unreadable expression. Water dripped down her arms and the floor around her feet was slick. She kept the water running as long as possible, aimlessly allowing it to cover her skin until the air sent goosebumps crawling over her.

Marie turned off the faucet and the room lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. Nat held out a towel for her. She dried herself slowly and paid too much attention to detail. They both recognized the other's avoidance tactics. But it was inevitable; it was all inevitable.

"That's a nice widow you got there."

Marie met her gaze and the quirk of her lips and her own twitched. She twisted her arm to touch the black widow spider just below her elbow. "I think—I think the t-t-tattoo artist thought I was crazy."

Nat grinned and Marie did too and the two embraced. Marie winced as Nat pressed on a bruise but held onto her harder. She might have cried in any other instance. She missed her confidant; her mentor with her secret smiles and teasing quips and understanding nods. Marie used to need her, and part of her still did.

A thousand words burned on her tongue, wanting to rush out her mouth like a waterfall after the rain. There were a million things she wanted to say, but her lips pressed tighter together until they bruised.

"You grew your hair out," Nat said as she pulled back. She moved a section of curls over her shoulder. Dust and concrete pieces wound around her curls. In another version of this, Marie would have sat in front of Nat and allowed her to braid it or tie it up in a bun.

Marie stepped away and pulled the rest of her uniform on. She tied up her hair and crammed her feet into boots half a size too large. She fumbled with the laces and fiddled with her hair until her hands fell to her sides. She stared at Nat and the growing space between them. They had the same thought flash across their expressions: Now what?

A knock shattered their silence. Nat turned on her heel and opened the door. Sam poked his head in, eyebrows quirked and a relaxed grin on his face.

"Look at you, all spiffed up and bloodless." He closed the door behind him, his head cocked as he looked her over. "Though, I will say the tattoos and blood gave off some real metal vibes. Add a couple lip piercings and you'd look like a cover band I saw last month."

Marie smiled at Sam and rushed into his open arms. Sam was easy company who always had something to say or a funny story to tell. They once stayed up until five in the morning watching reruns of an old sitcom; Sam had the entire script memorized for every episode and took great pride in reciting each line in near-perfect imitation of the characters.

"I don't think m-m-metal is really my thing," Marie said, pulling back but staying by his side. She swatted his hand when he attempted to yank on her curls.

"No, I get indie-alternative vibes from you."

"And-And I don't get metal cover band vibes from you."