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𝐀𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧, 𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐚
━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━
Truth let Natasha take the shower first.
The fact that she didn't even try to argue with her was a cause of concern.
They hadn't spoken much since the phone call. Once S.H.I.E.L.D. had arrived and collected Borba, who had been confirmed to make a fine recovery, Truth had laid claim to one of the extra SUVs parked on the street, courtesy of Michael, and started the drive from D.C. to Arlington, Virginia.
Natasha hadn't complained then, either. She had followed Truth's lead without comment, eyes glued to the passenger side window with little appreciation for the sights.
It had been better with the silence, however. Because, just as Natasha still fought to keep the memories out, Truth had also been reeling from the recent events.
The murder attempt wasn't anything but a nuisance—Truth had had a number of people try to assassinate her, people far more experienced than a lowly mafia member burning with revenge.
She had done well enough with her powers that she hadn't been too upset with the turn of events. Perhaps she could've found an alternative to binding and relocating Borba without using her telekinesis, as the migraine was quite the downside, but she'd managed. It also meant that a burnout was dangerously imminent, but she had enough adrenaline running through her for her to shoulder through it for just a bit longer.
She had even managed to reign in her inducement in time to help Natasha. With the urgency to get as much information out of Borba before he passed out from the pain and blood loss, she had increased it's intensity to make things move faster despite the risk. There had been a moment of her own panic when she had noticed Natasha's state, but the refusal to just sit and watch in fear of making the situation worse had been too strong to ignore.
Strong enough to make her snap out of it and withdraw the inducement bubbling across her skin.
It had to have been the fastest she'd ever managed to do that.
What really had her anxious, though, were the looming circumstances surrounding the events of that day. It was the combined knowledge of knowing there was something big Michael wasn't telling her, big enough that he wanted her to retreat to a safe house while she recovered.
It had made her speculate about this Russian woman Borba spoke about.
And she'd wondered if, maybe, Natasha knew anything about her.
Because, something about the situation had reminded the redhead of something—something bad enough to give her a panic attack.
And, despite Truth being the obvious target, she just couldn't get the thought of whether or not either of them were truly safe out of her head.
"Is this yours?" Natasha had asked, breaking the silence as she stared up at the two-story, very seemingly normal residence they'd parked in front of.
"Not necessarily," Truth had answered. She fought to make sure her anxiety didn't creep into her voice. "This is where Michael and I stayed during our probation period."
Natasha had looked at her.
"You didn't live at the Triskelion?"
Truth had taken a deep breath and shook her head.
"We didn't start working for S.H.I.E.L.D. until we were eighteen. In a way, it was more of a temporary situation—just another way for Fury to keep an eye on us."
While Natasha showered, Truth quickly prepared several sandwiches, throwing them in a plastic Ziploc bag for them to snack on later. Heidi sat nearby, eagerly lapping up whatever scraps Truth threw at her.
"What's this for?"
Truth glanced up and couldn't help the small smile that fought its way onto her lips.
Natasha was dressed in her clothes. She'd picked a loose, gray, long-sleeved shirt that had been one of Truth's favorites when she'd lived here, and the sweats she wore were slightly too long, resting past her ankles. As she came closer, she patted her wet curls dry with a towel.
She looked, overall, better than she had a few minutes ago. Her skin was flushed, no longer suffering from the effects of the cold rain, though shadows still lingered in her eyes. Food and sleep would probably make her feel better, hence the sandwiches, but Truth's main priority at the moment was getting off the grid.
"This," Truth said, sliding the sandwiches away from Natasha as she reached for them, "is for the road. Give me ten minutes, and they're all yours."
"...We're not staying here?"
"Nope." Truth gestured for Heidi to follow her into the hall, and the cat flew past her into the bathroom, excited at the prospects of a bath. "Ten minutes. I'll answer your questions once we're in the car."
But, Natasha spun to block Truth's path, and Truth stopped in front of Natasha's outstretched hand.
"Truth. You need to sleep."
"Natasha—"
"No, I'm serious. At least a few hours, then we can go wherever else—"
"I can't sleep here," Truth admitted, and Natasha went quiet. "I love it here—it holds some of my favorite memories—but I can't sleep here."
For the first time, Natasha fully took in the other woman. Truth looked almost nervous. Her hands fiddled, picking at the material of her leggings, and now that she was forcing her to slow down, it became more apparent that Truth couldn't seem to sit still.
Because, as much as the house was like a second childhood home, it didn't make Truth feel safe.
For her, safe was a very particular term. It meant that she didn't have to look over her shoulder, that she could sleep and cut off her awareness of the world and not have to worry about something happening without her being able to protect herself.
And, she really needed to sleep. Natasha was right about that because, despite her earlier displays of self control, Truth still didn't trust herself with Natasha. Because, now her inducement was feeding off of her anxiety, and she felt it slowly rising back to the surface.
It took a lot of restraint to not flinch away from Natasha's hand.
As though recognizing that, Natasha lowered it.
"Okay," she said. "What can I do?"
Truth released a breath, the tension draining from her body. Knowing that Natasha was on her side meant a lot.
At least she didn't have to do this alone.
"Maybe...more sandwiches?"
Natasha gave her a reassuring smile and stepped aside.
"Okay. More sandwiches."
Truth nodded, but didn't move, too lost in the emotions emanating from the woman in front of her. There were still the lingering feelings of fear and displacement, but overtaking those were compassion, an undercurrent of worry, and a lot of determination. In her own emotional distress, Truth was overwhelmed, unable to look away.
Down the hall, Heidi popped her head out and meowed. Truth took a small step toward the bathroom, her eyes still on Natasha.
"Ten minutes?"
For some reason, it took Natasha a moment to find her voice.
"Ten minutes," Natasha agreed.
Ten minutes later, they all piled into a grey Ford C-Max that laid unused in the garage. It belonged to Truth's uncle, but since he was hardly ever in the States, the twins liked to use it for their own purposes when they were off duty.
"Are you sure you don't want me to drive?" Natasha asked as Truth settled into the driver's seat.
"I'll be okay. I've still got a bit of adrenaline, and it's really only a twenty minute commute. Our worst enemy is traffic."
The drive truly could've been worse. They made it to the Southwest Quadrant of D.C. in twenty minutes, with an extra five minutes spent maneuvering through the crowded streets to get to their destination.
"Is this S.H.I.E.L.D. too?" Natasha asked as they pulled up in front of an apartment complex, handing one of the last of the sandwiches back to Heidi, who was steadily growing to like the other assassin more and more.
"No," Truth answered. "This was Michael's first ever safe house, though we probably use it too often for it to be fully secure. It's more of a second home while we're in D.C."
"Like, when you want to take a break from S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Natasha guessed.
Truth sighed as she pulled the key out of the ignition.
"We like S.H.I.E.L.D., don't get me wrong, but...we wanted to be sure that we had things that weren't dependent on them. We wanted to have an out just in case, and this is one of those outs."
"So...Fury doesn't know?"
"He is definitely, at least, aware. So long as we do our jobs and don't make a mess while doing it, he doesn't make a fuss about it."
Natasha thought about this as they rode the elevator to the third floor. Disobeying a superior was an extremely foreign idea to her. And, while Truth technically wasn't outright disobedient, she was working around Fury's authority.
Natasha had been taught at a young age about the importance of loyalty. She'd been loyal to her country, the Red Room, the KGB.... Even the thought of directly going against an order sent a spike of panic through her, and she was quick to steady her breathing before a repeat of earlier events occurred.
Maybe that was her problem, though. She didn't know how to make her own decisions because she'd never been allowed to. It was easier to follow someone else's order, to let them take blame for making a wrong move.
But, following orders had only led to bloodshed and suffering. And, the truth was that, despite working under someone else's authority, Natasha was still fully responsible for the consequences of her actions.
Because, at the end of the day, orders or not, the people who had died had been killed by her hands.
Accepting that had been...excruciating. To know that she had so much to atone for, and no idea where to start.
She was hoping S.H.I.E.L.D. would help her find out how.
Truth didn't use a key to open the door—instead, she placed her hand on the doorknob and it unlocked with a noticeable click. Stepping aside, she let Natasha and Heidi through first.
Truth seemed to be a person who collected a lot of things, as evident by her affinity for knives and the little knickknacks that personalized her apartment at the Triskelion. She liked memorabilia—her things meant something to her, unlike Natasha who saw her belongings only as temporary items. Natasha had never seen Michael's living situation, but she had the feeling that he also wasn't the kind of person who was obsessed with tidiness and order.
With this in mind, Natasha felt as though she had just stepped into the embodiment of a true Castello household.
It wasn't like the house in Arlington, which, while warm and familial, felt like a false pretense. That place was meant to portray the image of an overtly normal, pitch perfect life, which Natasha supposed was the goal when relocating two enhanced teenagers to the suburbs of America. She could understand why Truth didn't particularly like staying there, especially since the other assassin seemed to value staying true to the self and living in the present rather than the morbid past.
It wasn't like Natasha was anymore eager to step foot in Ohio any time soon.
The easiest way to describe the difference between this safe house and Truth's apartment at S.H.I.E.L.D. was that they showcased different aspects of Truth. Now that Natasha had seen both, she better understood how Truth organized her life as an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. and an assassin.
The apartment at the Triskelion was the home of the Siren.
This, the place Natasha stood in now, was the home of Truth Castello.
The apartment was open plan. The entryway gave a singular view of the dining table, and, as she stepped further inside, Natasha noticed the kitchen and living area flanking opposite ends of the long room. Bookshelves lined walls in both the kitchen and the left side of the living area, filled with both aging volumes and modern literature. An upright piano was tucked into the corner, overlooking the streets of D.C.. More instruments—an acoustic and electric guitar and a violin—were also scattered around the space, providing an explanation for the music sheets left lying around in some places. Paintings decorated the walls, and Natasha was particularly intrigued with a charcoal piece of a woman dancing in ballet shoes.
"There's a small, five-inch blade hidden behind every frame," Truth informed as she gestured to the artwork. "There's also a handgun on the underside of both the couch and the coffee table, the empty Captain Crunch box in the top right-most cabinet, the closets, and under the beds."
Natasha gave her a questionable look, to which Truth shrugged.
"The Captain Crunch was Michael's idea. There are two bedrooms on the right of the hallway, bathroom and laundry on the left. Emergency exits include the furthermost bedroom by the fire escape and the bathroom if you were determined enough to scale the building."
"Thank you," Natasha said, keeping the information in mind.
"Yup. And, you're free to use any clothes in the drawers—Michael and I share the closets but most of my stuff is in my room—and you can find the towels—"
"Truth."
The dark-haired assassin raised her hands in surrender.
"Fine! But, if you're stuck trying to turn on the shower in the middle of the night, don't point any fingers at me."
However, the prospects of making it to that point were very slim because, less than fifteen minutes later, Truth had fallen asleep.
It was almost funny how it'd happened. At one point, she'd disappeared, Heidi at her heels, then returned with several blankets and pillows.
"Are there any sandwiches left?" she'd asked as she put a couple pillows and blankets across the back of the two-seater couch Natasha sat on.
"No, but I can make some more," she'd offered, watching with a raised eyebrow as Truth kept giving her more things she'd never asked for. A few books, pen and paper, her thermos, which she must've refilled sometime while they were in Arlington.
"Okay," was Truth's distracted answer as she finally settled onto the long couch adjacent to the one Natasha had claimed and picked up the TV remote. Heidi was quick to jump on top of her as though using her body to keep her from getting up again.
Natasha shook her head at her antics as she walked into the kitchen.
By the time she came back, Frodo and Gandalf were discussing Bilbo's eleventy-first birthday party and Truth's eyes were closed, her breathing steady.
Natasha had never seen Truth sleep before. It was weird to see her so vulnerable, yet Natasha was sure with the pointed look Heidi gave her as she edged closer to put the plate on the coffee table that she wasn't truly defenseless.
And, Natasha didn't mind keeping watch, so long as Truth finally got the rest she needed. Sleep was far from what the redhead wanted for herself at the moment anyway, afraid of the shadows lingering in her head creeping closer the moment she lowered her guard.
Reclaiming her original spot on the couch with a sigh, she turned her attention to the television.
She had a feeling it was going to be a very long night.
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