"You need to wait for me here. It's going to take me a minute to convince Liam to switch stations, and if you show up before he's gone he'll sound the alarm that you're here, and it won't just be four Guards who show up to kill you." Natasha nodded at Penelope and watched as she walked away from her and John, leaving them hiding a few houses away from Natasha's home. The moment she began to walk away, John turned back to her.
"Natasha-"
"I know what you're going to stay," Natasha stopped him, turning to face him. "We can trust her, trust me." She watched him closely, noting the skepticism and irritation that remained etched into his expression.
"How can you say that? Your own father tried to kill you, your own family. How can you know that you can trust her?" He asked, motioning in the direction that Penelope had gone, the path now empty as she had turned the corner to Natasha's home.
"You didn't see her face when she asked me to help her, John," she exhaled, shaking her head, "And you didn't see Ky's face when he saved me that night. He wanted to escape, I could see it in his eyes when he took that hood off and I could hear it in his voice when I told him that he should come with me. He was filled with pain and desperation and, and sadness." Natasha looked away from John for a moment, running her hands through her hair as she sighed heavily, trying to fight off her own pain at the memory of Ky giving up his life for her.
"It's the same look that I saw in Penelope's face, the same look that I didn't see in my father's. My father didn't want to be saved, he made that very clear in what he did that night. Ky wanted to be saved and it's my fault he died. Penelope wants to be saved, and I won't let her die." Natasha looked back at John, waiting for his reaction. His expression did not changed, he only looked more unconvinced as he stared down the alley Penelope had traveled down.
"Your stubbornness is going to be your downfall. And so it seems mine."
At that moment, Penelope appeared in the mouth of the alley, holding her sword out in her hand to signal to them that it was safe to approach her home. Natasha looked back at John who simply shrugged and motioned for Natasha to go first, and she noted that he still hadn't put his dagger away, or removed his free hand from the hilt of one of the swords that hung by his side. She had put her own dagger away when they neared her home, but she felt her hand move towards the handle as she walked, her fingers brushing against it.
"We don't have a lot of time," Penelope whispered as they neared her. "I think Liam was suspicious of why I wanted to change stations ahead of schedule, so whatever you're hoping to find, find it fast.
"Can I have a minute?" Natasha looked between Penelope and John, who both nodded at her. Penelope turned away, her eyes scanning the street, but John continued to watch her. Natasha let her eyes linger on him for a moment, before she turned away and faced her home, the only building left fully standing among the wreckage, and Natasha knew it was intentional, a reminder for her if she ever returned home of the destruction she caused.
Taking a deep breath, she reached slowly for the handle and pushed the door open, stepping inside the dark space. The interior of her home was a stark contrast to the outside, still standing tall and put together. On the inside, the remnants of her life were in shambles. The kitchen table and chairs were knocked over, dishes shattered on the floor around it. Remnants of a meal spoiled on the counter where her mother prepared dinner, telling Natasha that her family had been preparing to eat together when the Guards stormed in. The small cabinets on either side of the fireplace had been ransacked, her family's belongings taken from the shelves and strewn across the floor, some pieces ripped and broken. The legs on the bench in front of the fireplace were broken off, and Natasha wondered if Tomas had smashed the furniture in an attempt to use the wood as a means of defense.
The door to her left, which led to the room where her parent's slept, had been forced open by something considerably strong, as it hung off one of its and the wood in the middle was splintered. Natasha didn't need to go inside to know that the room had been destroyed with the rest of the first floor. To her right, the narrow staircase led to the second floor that her father had built when they found out her mother was pregnant and realized they would need more space. Natasha slowly climbed the stairs, coming to the room that she had shared with her four younger siblings.
The scene upstairs was no different. The two beds had been slashed clearly with swords, blades cutting through the blankets her mother had spent so long making so they would be warm upstairs in the colder months. Her sister's old dolls and her brother's toys had been strewn around the floor, the chest of clothes they shared was opened and the garments lay across the floor in all directions, as if somebody had frantically dug through the chest in search of something. Above their beds, Natasha had pinned some of her drawings; portraits of her siblings, sketches of things their wild imaginations had come up with that they had then begged Natasha to draw for them. The papers still hung mostly where she had left them, only now they were torn and frayed, some of them even scribbled heavily over with dark, angry marks.
Natasha walked slowly towards the collage of images, plucking one from its pin and holding it close in her hands. She had sketched the faces of her whole family, including herself, onto one piece of paper. Her mother, Tomas, her four siblings, and herself all stared back at her in black and white images, the only picture that hadn't been tarnished, and Natasha couldn't help but feel as if it was another cruel reminder from the people who had taken her family and destroyed her home.
"Natasha." She jumped at the sound of the voice, not having heard anybody else enter the home or scale the steps to the second floor, but turned around to find John watching her in the dark.
"Your friend is getting anxious. She believes the others will have figured out that you're here and will be coming back any moment. We should go." She watched his eyes slowly travel around the destruction in the room, lingering on the drawings, before they found her face again. Even in the dark, Natasha could see the remorse behind his eyes.
"Did you find anything?"
"No," Natasha said quietly, folding the piece of paper in her hands. "But there's something in my mother's room I want to look for." Looking at the sketch of her mother, seeing the chain she had drawn around her mother's neck, reminded her of a locket her mother had once worn when she was a child. It had been given to her by her father, and she had worn it every day, clutching it tightly in her hand for weeks after her father disappeared as she watched and waited for him to come back. After Tomas, her mother had started wearing it less and less, and Natasha couldn't remember if she had it on the day Natasha escaped, but she had to look for it.
"It's a silver locket," she said to John as she moved past him for the stairs. "The pendant is about this big," she loosely bent her middle finger and thumb together to form a circle, "and my mother's initials are engraved on the front. I don't remember if she was wearing it that day, but if she wasn't I need to find it." Natasha crossed the main room of the house towards her mother's room, trying to ignore the destruction inside.
"Is it important?" John asked as he followed her inside. She paused by her mother's chest of clothing, open just like the one upstairs, and looked at John.
"It's important to me." She knelt in front of the chest, digging through the clothes that hadn't been pulled out, knowing that her mother kept a small jewelry box at the very bottom, hidden beneath a piece of wood at the bottom of the trunk that could be removed to reveal a hole dug into the dirt where she had kept more valuable items. When her fingers finally scraped the wooden bottom, she hastily pulled up the piece of wood and reached for the box, pulling it out.
"It's not here," she exhaled slowly, her fingers combing through the few pieces of jewelry her mother had kept over the years. "It's not here." Her heart dropped in her chest as she looked around, hoping for any sign of the pendant.
"Natasha, we have to go." Natasha heard it too this time, the unmistakable sound of voices and boots approaching, echoing in the quiet night.
"We have to look around for it, please," she begged, standing up to face John, the jewelry box still in her hand. "If she wasn't wearing it, it has to be here, and I have to find it." John's face clenched as he looked as if he wanted to argue, but then turned and began searching through the clothes and bedding thrown all over the floor. Natasha followed suit, clutching the box in one hand, using the other to finger through the nicer clothes that her mother and Tomas had hanging in a small wardrobe, including her mother's wedding dress.
"Natasha." She turned to John, her fingers still clutching the soft fabric of the wedding dress, her heart wrenching in her chest, to see him holding a dangling piece of jewelry between his fingers, a large silver pendant swinging at the bottom. Natasha felt her shoulders drop in relief as she took the locket in her free hand and dropped it into the jewelry box, along with the drawing, and clasped the lid shut.
"Can we go now? Before the entirety of our enemies descends upon us?" Natasha rolled her eyes at him as she followed him out of the bedroom towards the door.
"Finally!" Penelope hissed as they exited her house. "What took you so long? Never mind, we have to go, now. That way." Penelope's sword was still drawn in her hand, and she used it to point down the main street to their left. John started in that direction, withdrawing his sword as well. With one hand still tightly clutching the small chest, Natasha used her other to draw one of her daggers, the easier weapon to maneuver with only one free hand, and followed. Penelope turned her back to them as Natasha passed her, looking around the multiple alleys and narrow streets around them as she stepped backwards. Natasha looked back at her for a moment before looking ahead, moving quickly to keep up with John as he walked quickly down the road.
She had been following him for only a few paces when she turned back over her shoulder to ensure that Penelope was keeping up with them, only to find a hooded figure step quickly out of an alley way that Penelope had just passed.
"Penelope!" She screamed,not caring if her voice gave away their location she whipped around to face thegirl. She watched Penelope's eyes widen with alert as she turned, sword raisedto her attacker, but was too late.
A/N: Things are going to be really crazy for me in the next few weeks (the next few months, really) as I'm moving and starting a new job, but I'm going to keep trying to update at least every 7-10 days! It's not as often as I'd like to post, but I just know things are going to be so hectic I won't have as much time to dedicate to writing as I'd like. But hopefully once the move is over and I've settled into the new job, things will calm down a bit!
Let me know what you think of the story so far! I love hearing your feedback! :)