I don't love

Part 8

Natasha's POV

I went through the rest of the house with Steve following my every step. I was looking for some papers I left here last time. It wasn't that important at the moment. It was papers of my life, things that actually isn't in my file. Not all good things. Mostly bad. Notes about my training and how well I did. When I failed and when I succeeded. Which means killed. I haven't looked through all the papers but I certainly don't want anyone else getting their hands on them. Especially now that I'm an avenger. I didn't care before. I never expected this future for myself. But now, I want to keep my past hidden, even if that seems impossible at this moment. I was worried I wouldn't find the papers. It looked like someone had been here. The house may be abounded but it's not unvisited.
"What are you searching for?" Steve asked after a while of following me around. He was really trying not to ask so many questions.
"Just, some papers." I said, knowing what his next question would be so I answered it before he could ask. "About my past. Things that isn't in my file."
He nodded. Understanding my worry.
I stepped into the old library, realising it had been a while since I was here the last time. All books were covered in dust and the shelves reached up to the roof. They were full of books that leaved a dusty smell.
"Well," Steve said. "You sure know how to decorate a house." He took out one of the book from a shelf and started look through the pages.
"Yeah I didn't decorate this. It was like this when I came here, but it sure is nice." I said, looking at the book in his hand. He put it back in the shelves and went around the room. I started to look in the drawers and under them. If they were hidden there. My mind wasn't all clear when I hid them, that's the cause of my memory loss. I shouldn't be allow to hide things, since I forget about them myself.
"Nat, is this you?"
I looked over at Steve who was holding a book with photographs. I went over to him. There was pictures of me in ballet clothes and of my little room I had as a kid. I was little, maybe five years old.
"I.. I haven't seen this before." I said taking the album out of his hands. I sat down in one of the sofas and he stood behind me looking through the pictures. I changed page. In one picture I looked like I was seven. Ivan was standing beside me, his hand on my shoulder. I kept changing page. I got older and older. There was only pictures of me and sometimes Ivan. I looked happy. But when I changed page again, it all changed. I was around 17 years old. In one picture I was laying on a table. My face was red and blue. I was really skinny, like I hadn't eaten for a month. I was tied to the table, my hair in my face. Looked like the memory in my dream a little. Steve didn't take his eyes of the pictures and I was stuck. Wanting to see how it actually looked like since I only knew how it felt. I changed page. 18. It was me in the ballet room. Ivan stood next to me. His hands were on my body while he was kissing my face. I stood still, with a dead expression. Next picture I was laying on the floor. Blood was dripping from my head onto the floor. I was only wearing underwear, revealing all the wounds that now only is scars. I had scratch marks all over my body and it was hard to find a place where I wasn't blue, red or yellow. I felt Steve look away behind me but I couldn't. I never thought I'd see something like this. I never thought I'd see my childhood in pictures. I didn't enjoy it, but it made me feel more human. A proof that I was a child once, even if I wasn't the most lovely one.

Steve's POV

I had to look away. The pictures of Natasha was like nothing I had ever seen. I thought I'd seen pain, real pain. Even experienced it. But when Natasha looked through pictures of her younger self, when she was happy, pictures of when she was tortured and raped. It wasn't until then, when I saw the little smile on her face that I knew I had seen real pain for the first time. The awful things didn't matter to her in this moment, what mattered was that it was saved. That her childhood meant something and was worth saving. She didn't care why it meant something and who wanted it. All she cares about was that she was something. She was a person. With memories and a childhood. When you've been through more awful things then you can describe, and you smile looking over them because you at least know you made it through, that's real pain.

"I found them. They were in here. Odd." Natasha said as she took a folded file of papers in her hand. She put them back into the book and stood up. She held the book close to her body, like she didn't want to lose it. She looked at my pale expression, realising I wasn't used to see these sort of things like they were normal. She smiled and took my hand.
"We got to go." She said kindly, looking around the room one last time. "I just gotta do one thing first." She started searching through a drawer and found some matches.
"Natasha? What are you doing?" I asked nervously, feeling I already knew the answer.
"It can't be here, it needs to go away."
"But all the stuff?" I asked referring mostly to the picture of her and Bucky upstairs.
"This house only brings me memories that I don't want to remember." She said as she lit a book on fire. It spread quickly over the beautiful old library. I went out of the room and watched her stand by the door, looking over the room. The photo album and file was still in her hand. She couldn't let them go. She turned around, smiling a little at me. Though I could see the tears in her eyes.
We went back to the car. Nat took the wheel again even thought I tried o convince her not to.
"Don't worry, I don't have another house in this country." She said smirking. I chuckled.

Natasha was laying right beside me. Our bodies were close. Her green eyes sparkled and her face was calm. She smiled. Her beautiful face showed me love and her eyes was pierced into mine. I slowly fell asleep without a worry in the world. Then suddenly, I woke up. Alone. Natasha was gone. Like she hadn't been been there. I was scared. I stepped out of my bed and went to my window. Something fast flew by it. At first I thought it was a bird, until I realised it was a flying car. Like one on Stark's expo but a more modern model. I freaked. I looked over the streets, it was around New Years. People were out on the streets partying. Then I saw a sign that read, "Happy New year, 2080". My heart broke. I was alone. Again.

"Steve!?" I felt a hand squeezing my arm. I woke up, scared and confused.
"Steve? Are you okey?" Natasha said, looking worryingly over at me at as she tried to drive at the same time. I looked at her face. Her green eyes met mine again and it made me calm. I hadn't lost everything. Something was still there.
"Just another dream." I said, still looking at her. She nodded, not judging my fear at all, since she had experience. I was so thankful it was a dream that I couldn't take my eyes of the things I actually still had. That thing being Natasha. She, a well known spy, noticed my looks and smirked.
"Sure it was the same old dream Cap? Or was is about someone?" She said smirking. I gave her a confused look. She smiled.
"If you don't stop looking at me like that, I'll kick you out of the car and you'll have to walk." She said.
I laughed.
"Yeah, well, at least I would be in a better company." I said and she hit me in the arm.
"Oh stop it. I'm the best company you could ask for." She said, trying to be serious but her face smiled.
"Of course you are miss." I said, smirking. "But really, how long is it left? I could take a run.." I began.
She hit my arm again and smiled.
"If you take a run, I'll run you over with this car." She said.
"Oh, then I better not." I chuckled.
"You better not." She said, keeping her eyes at the road as I kept mine on her.