A Sorta Fairytale

But I Didn't Know That We Could Break a Silver Lining

Her toes ached, but she stayed en pointe as she turned slowly, the girls around her doing the same. Even as skin tore and blood gushed from their wounded feet, still they danced.

No, that wasn't right. They weren't dancing – they were in combat training. They fought through cuts and bruises, leaving the floor red.

The fire caught on the sheets and began to spread across the ward. It was empty, but soon the licking flames would reach the innocent inhabitants. None were innocent, she reminded herself as she walked away.

Drakov's daughter stared up at her, a single tear falling from the girl's eye to mingle with the blood.

Clint Barton stopped her, arrow trained at her heart. This was the end, she knew, and felt only relief when the shaft pierced her chest.

But, no, that hadn't happened. The only time she'd been shot was by a ghost with a metal arm, who left her on that godforsaken road to bleed out.

"Where can I go that I'm not a threat?" Bruce wanted to know.

"You're not a threat to me," she promised. Was she lying? It didn't matter; he'd left anyway.

She stood on the precipice and watched the darkness getting closer, a tide of blood she'd never escape. No matter what she did, the people she'd wronged wouldn't forget. Nameless faces of her victims were closing in and they would never be replaced by those she'd saved.

Natasha woke herself up with a gasp, clutching her chest. It wasn't like that, she told herself. She was a hero, she was doing good things, saving people. She wasn't alone, there were friends and allies in this building right now. Asleep, but nearby if she needed them. This was a safe place, one of the few left to her.

Pulling her knees up against her chest, she leaned against the cold wall behind the bed and considered what Clint had said. Did she want to leave all of this? Would her demons give her peace if she was living a simple life? If she ran a shop, maybe, barely making ends meet, but never having to worry about how many lives were in the balance when she made a decision?

She'd given up all her covers. Being an Avenger had been an option and she'd taken it without considering whether that was because it was her only option. Was it? Was she only here because she was too much of a coward to seek happiness elsewhere? Because she was certainly here as penance. It was deserved – how could she live with herself if she wasn't trying to save people to make up for how many lives she'd destroyed?

Growing up in the Red Room was probably tragic, but she hadn't known anything different. The orphanage she had been taken from was a distant and hazy memory, and may not have even been real. She'd excelled in the program, better than even her eldest sisters, and that had been a pleasant experience. Killing people may have been part of her duties, but it wasn't as though she'd been allowed to question the morality of her actions.

The KGB had taken her in when the Red Room was willing to lend out her services. An operative for the Soviet Union, and, later, Russia, was not interested in the big picture. She was given a job, and rewarded if she did it well. More freedoms were given to her, and that was perhaps their mistake.

She'd always been curious, always going as far as her handlers would allow. And, the better her performance, the more she could do while her superiors turned a blind eye. She began to question her orders, first for efficiency and then more and more about why these people deserved to die or have their secrets stolen. What had they done? Who was it who decided their fates? What gave that person the right?

Her name became well-known in the intelligence community. People were terrified when they saw her for who she was. She'd used that, combining it easily with the fact that everyone was always willing to put too much trust in a pretty girl. It was enough for SHIELD to decide to deal with her.

Barton was one of their best, and he found her where all others had failed. She'd been surprised by him, by how unlike a world-class assassin he'd seemed. Perhaps surprised enough to let her guard down, just a little. And he'd seen something in her that no one else had before. He'd asked her to defect, to try being one of the good guys. Beats being dead, he'd reasoned. The thought of double crossing them had entered her mind, of returning to her Russian masters after she'd learned all she could.

But then she met Nick Fury, and he agreed with Clint – there was more to her than an assassin. Most of her early missions were heavily monitored, and she was rarely allowed out of her new handlers' sight. But Clint was one of them, so she hadn't minded so much. Because they'd given her something she had never had.

When she was cleared for it, she was allowed to leave the SHIELD facility and have her own apartment. She could eat what she wanted, go where she wanted, wear what she wanted, be whom she wanted whenever she wasn't on mission. That was the happiest time in her life, discovering that freedom. Working for the good guys and seeing how her work made things better.

She rose through the ranks as quickly as she had as a child, but now it was a delight to show her skills instead of grim perseverance. Not that persevering was no longer an important aspect of her job; it just wasn't her whole life anymore. The other agents in SHIELD were initially wary, but grew fond of her. She had formed desperate alliances in the Red Room and didn't know how to deal with people in less dire circumstances. But they accepted her nonetheless once she'd proven herself loyal.

Then Loki came down and ensnared her closest friend, leading her down the path to become an Avenger. She'd only been doing her job, and was relieved to get back to it when everything went more or less back to normal. Well, normal for her. The god left the planet with his brother, the genius scientists went to Stark Tower to tinker, and she and Clint went back to work. Sometimes, the super soldier joined them, but he was more like them than the others anyway.

It all came crashing down, and part of her was always expecting something like it to happen. She had never thought her happiness would endure, that she'd be allowed to do her job in peace until it was time to retire. But instead of the avenging ghost from her own past that she'd been waiting for, it was Steve's. And that was much worse.

HYDRA hadn't been destroyed – it had only slept in the shadows until it was strong enough to come forth. And she'd been serving it the whole time. Who knew how many of her missions were based on HYDRA's goals? Even if it had come from Fury himself, who's to say someone hadn't fed him information to accomplish their own ends? He and Maria had been right to trust no one with the fact that the infamous Winter Soldier had actually failed a mission. But that didn't make it hurt any less to find out that, as her world crumbled around her, even one of her most trusted friends hadn't felt the same way.

He'd apologized, in his way, but the damage was done. It merely reminded her of what Madame had told her, had made them repeat – she had no place in this world. She was a chameleon and could fit in anywhere, with anyone. But she'd never be part of anything. She was a tool, capable of things no one else could do, and she would have to content herself with that.

The Avengers closed ranks after what happened to SHIELD, trying to give the world something they could trust. She'd been grateful to be invited, to be part of something again, but she no longer believed it was real. Maybe that's why Bruce had left – he could see through her, see how betrayed and out of place she really felt. And didn't want her putting her hope in him.

He was probably right. After everything that had happened, she'd pushed too hard for some kind of connection. It would never have worked out between them anyway. And then after the turmoil with Barnes and Steve and Stark, and she was glad that she'd been around for it. That she hadn't run when she'd wanted to escape with him.

And now she was in this facility of broken people, all trying to do the right thing, to be ready to save the world. She was like them, but she wasn't going to fool herself into thinking she belonged here. A survivor, Clint had called her. She would survive here, like she always did, until she didn't feel like she owed anyone anymore.