SANCTUM | Avengers

13

"I'm no superhero, but even I can figure that one out. Butcwhy?" she asks, tilting her head to the side curiously.

"I can't stay here," I answer as simply as possible.

I expect her to ask where, or maybe even how I plan to escape, but she just walks up to me and hands me the glass of lemonade. I take it slowly.

"Follow me," she says. Without waiting, she walks back towards the front porch. I follow, if only to get this over with so I could finally get out of here. She sits down on one of the chairs, sighing as she reclines slightly. I follow suit in the chair next to hers.

"What's your name?" she asks, taking a sip from her cup.

"Agent Blaho-"

"No, I already know that one. What's your real name?" she insists.

"Nina," I reply, much quieter than I mean to be.

"Nina," she repeats, smiling. "That's a beautiful name."

I don't know how to respond. She just takes another sip of her drink and continues to look out at the farm. I begin to stand, but she interjects again.

"Why are you here?" she asks, finally turning to look at me. The question isn't a snide comment but one of genuine curiosity. Something in her face pushes me to do something out of the blue and foreign to me.

I tell her the truth.

"I'm running away." I state simply.

"From what?"

"Everything," I mutter quietly.

"And how did that land you on my farm?" she chuckles, her smile still warm.

"The Avengers captured me in Wakanda. Next thing I know...here I am."

"I have a feeling you're not telling me the full story," she chides- the voice of a mother speaking to her child. It should feel demeaning, but instead I continue to answer.

"I have a feeling you don't want to know."

She just nods her head.

"They can help you, you know," she says softly.

It's my turn to laugh now.

"They can't do anything for me," I reply. "Nobody can."

"Something about there being too much red in your ledger, right?" she asks. "Or maybe you're too dangerous? Or what? You were never meant to live a normal life?"

My breath catches in my throat. She lays my thoughts out on the table.

"I've heard that before, with Natasha," she says, noticing my apparent shock.

"This is different," I insist, unsure of how it really is.

"Is it?. You know, they've all done things they're not proud of," she says, nodding in the direction of her husband who is fixing a fence in the distance.

"Every time Clint comes back from a mission or an assignment, he's a different man. They all are."

"I'm not one of them," I reply. I am not a hero and I never will be.

"You're right, you're not," she says, "but you're better than you think you are."

"You have no idea who I am" I hiss, perching on the edge of the chair.

"Well then, if you're such a terrible person, why didn't you just shoot me so I couldn't stop you from escaping?" she asks. "You could be on the plane by now if you wanted to be."