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mhalachaiAt AO3
Summary: Natasha Romanoff tries to reconnect with her son. This is understandably easier said than done.
Rating: PG-13
Setting: Starts in 2002 and goes through the end of Stargate Atlantis; before the Avengers and Iron Man 2.
Characters: Natasha Romanoff, John Sheppard. Guest appearances by Clint Barton, Phil Coulson, various Stargate characters in later chapters.
Relationships: Background Natasha/Clint.
Warnings: Family secrets. Truly epic levels of swearing.
Notes: This chapter is set in 2003, while John is in Afghanistan. Major beta thanks to
websandwhiskers, who saved this story more times than I can count.Follows Widow's Weeds, Widow's Flight, Widow's Son.
<< Part One
January 18, 2003
Natasha sat in front of the computer, waiting. Maybe this wouldn't work, maybe the satellite connection was down, maybe John had better things to do--
The monitor flickered to life, and John Sheppard appeared.
"Hey," he said, surprise audible in his voice from half a world away. "Someone said I had a video call from my cousin?"
"I hope you don't mind," Natasha said, all her carefully prepared words vanishing as she stared at her son. He looked... bad. Bone tired and rough around the edges.
"No, I guess cousin is less traumatizing than mother once removed," John said. He tried to flatten his hair, which only made things worse. "How are you?"
"Good," Natasha said. She shifted uneasily in her chair. "Things have been uneventful."
John raised his eyebrows. "Really? Because you look like I feel and that's not good. Coulson being a hardass?"
"On occasion," Natasha said. "How are you?"
That wasn't what she wanted to ask. She wanted to know everything, all the things he wasn't saying in his emails, all his hopes and dreams that she had no right to know.
And yet she held her tongue as John shrugged, the video pixelating slightly. "Afghanistan in January is, you know. Grey."
"Have you been doing anything interesting?" Natasha asked, frustration growing in her chest. This wasn't going at all like she had hoped.
Who was she trying to fool? She had no right to expect anything from John, not after all these years.
Half a world away, John smiled. "Been branching out. They keep throwing new vehicles at us but the old ones work the best in this weather. Getting my hours in."
"Good."
"What about you?" John asked, his expression quirking into a smirk. "Go on any fun work trips lately?"
"London," Natasha said.
"Sounds fun. Fish and chips?"
"London, Ontario," Natasha clarified.
John made a face. "My condolences."
"It wasn't that bad." Natasha thought about the midnight cross-town car chase, evading the police and the human smugglers, while Clint lay bleeding on the floor of the van. But he would recover, and they'd saved the lives of twenty trafficked young women, so that was a mark in the win column.
"That's good. I hear they have a pretty cool rollercoaster around there."
"We didn't have a chance to take in the sights." Natasha watched him grimace as he rolled his shoulder. An injury, she deduced, and her heart dropped. He had been hurt.
Below the view of the camera, she clenched one hand into a fist. He was a grown man and she had no right to ask him to tell her everything so she could make it better.
Something must have shown on her face, for John frowned. "It's okay, just an old football injury," he said.
Natasha swallowed against the lump in her throat. "You played football?"
"Well, no," John conceded. "But you know. Old 'football' injury."
Which was likely all he could say in an unsecured area.
"I have some of those myself," Natasha made herself say. "Well. Acrobatics injuries."
John smiled faintly. "You're still into that?"
Natasha thought for a moment. She supposed that doing a back-flip off one bad guy's face to roundhouse kick another in the groin would qualify as acrobatics. "Now and then."
"Cool. Hey, if you ever want to go back on the carnie circuit, let me know. We can reboot the Flying Soldatovas--"
The screen pixilated half a second before the sound of the explosion crashed through the speakers. The screen cleared, showing John with his arms over his head while debris fell around him.
"John!" Natasha exclaimed, jumping to her feet.
"I'm fine," John was saying. Behind him, people were shouting. "Coffee break's over. Bye!"
Another explosion in the background, and Natasha only had a moment to reach for the camera before the screen went dead.
Everything was silent.
Natasha's heart pounded in her chest. She was half a world away and couldn't do anything. John had been in a war zone for more than sixteen months, he knew what he was doing.
Her son was being shelled in a war zone and she couldn't do anything about it.
Her hands were shaking as she opened up her computer's email program.
John,
When you are able, please let me know you are okay.
N.
She hit send without re-reading. She pressed her hands against her thighs to stop the tremors. Taking deep breaths didn't help.
Other women lived like this all the time, Natasha told herself. Women had been sending sons off to war for all of history. Natasha had lived through several wars, had spent her entire life in danger.
Other women lived like this all the time, Natasha repeated to herself, sending their sons off to war. Forcing herself to stand, Natasha went out into the hall.
She found Clint on the range, testing out a new sniper rifle. She put on the hearing protection earmuffs and waited while Clint blew holes in the target. He turned around to give her a smile, but the expression vanished when he saw her face.
He didn't say anything, just offered her the rifle.
As Natasha settled on her stomach, finger pressed along the trigger guard, she could feel the tremors in her hands vibrating through the gun. She let out a breath, felt all her apprehension and fear settle in her stomach, anchoring her to the ground.
Body still, Natasha let off one round and hit the top left of the target. Adjusting the rifle's position, focusing the scope. She tried again. This time, she hit the centre of the target.
Again.
And again.
Natasha sat up, slipping the trigger safety in place. Clint pulled off his hearing protection and dropped it on the ground beside the rifle. He sat beside Natasha, close but not touching.
"This wasn't just a bad video conference," he said when she had removed her earmuffs.
It took her a moment to speak. "They started shelling his position while we were talking."
"Is he okay?"
"I..." Natasha had to breathe for a moment. Her stomach ached. "I think so. But he had to go."
Clint took her hand; twisted his fingers through hers and squeezed. "He'll be okay. You know he will be."
"How can I know that?" Natasha asked, not able to look at Clint.
"Because you've seen his file, you know what he can do. You know he's a survivor and he's going to come out of this fine, just like all the other stupid situations he's gotten himself into."
Natasha left her weight shift until she was leaning against Clint's arm. "How do you know so much?"
"I'm a genius, didn't anyone tell you?" Clint asked, giving her hand another squeeze. "A certifiable genius."
"A certifiable something," Natasha murmured, letting Clint help her stand. "Your rifle's sight is off."
"My rifle's sight is perfect, no touching," Clint said as he started to pack the gun away. "I have to go see Coulson, something about recent shelling activity in Afghanistan. Want to come?"
Natasha waited until they were in the elevator, far away from prying ears, before saying, "Thanks."
Clint shrugged. "Partners, remember? Come on, Coulson's got this really cool way of tracking American military actions without them knowing..."
As Clint detailed the in-no-way-legal monitoring methods Coulson could access. Natasha felt the nervousness in her stomach settle, something she would never be rid of. Maybe this was what all mothers felt, across time, when they sent their sons off to war.
Ten hours later, Natasha's computer beeped with an incoming email notification.
I'm fine - flying evac, waiting to refuel. TTYS mom.
Natasha stared at the email until the computer powered down from inactivity, and only then did she close her eyes.
It was the first time in over thirty years her son had called her 'mom'.
end part two