Widow's Letters (Stargate Atlantis/Avengers) 4/8
Putting up this part today because part 8 is nearly done and besides, the one I put up this morning was tiny. Happy Saturday.
At AO3
Summary: Natasha Romanoff tries to reconnect with her son. This is understandably easier said than done.
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Natasha Romanoff, John Sheppard. Guest appearances by Phil Coulson.
Warnings: Family secrets.
Notes: Beta thanks to![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
websandwhiskers. This chapter is set in 2004, while John is posted at McMurdo, and also during SG-1's season 7 finale, Lost City (aka the one in which Anubis tries to bitchslap Earth and there's a big fight at the South Pole). I decided that John was at McMurdo during this timeframe because fanfic that's why.
Follows Widow's Weeds, Widow's Flight, Widow's Son.
<< Part Three
March 26, 2004
Natasha stood in the overflowing McMurdo infirmary and wondered if this what a heart attack felt like.
John lay motionless in a tangle of cables and tubes, covered in white bandages tinted with blood. He had been unconscious since the twenty-second, when the event on the Antarctic plains had sent every agency in the world into a panic, secrets behind secrets, deception barely covering up whatever disaster had occurred.
Not even HYDRA was trying to claim responsibility for this one.
John hadn't been on the battlefield; he had been evacuating civilian scientists from around the continent back to McMurdo, when a stray something hit his chopper. He'd been in a coma for four days.
A presence behind her made Natasha shift her attention off her son. "The doctors won't know anything until he wakes up," Coulson said.
Natasha took a steadying breath, then another. "What do we do in the meantime?"
Coulson stepped beside Natasha, his sleeve brushing her arm. "I go figure out what exactly happened. You stay here."
Natasha frowned. "You told Director Fury you needed me on this."
"I told Director Fury you needed to be in McMurdo," Coulson corrected. "I'll see you later."
He wove his way through the battlefield hospital chaos, disappearing into the crowd with his customary skill. Natasha turned back to the bed where her only son lay comatose.
She sat on the side of the bed. For all that he had inherited his father's height, John was too slender for a mother's liking. He'd lost some of the muscle bulk he'd had in Afghanistan, more skin and bones and wiry muscle.
Carefully, to avoid disturbing the IV, Natasha picked up John's hand. They'd managed to get most of the blood off his skin.
He was so cold.
Natasha ran her thumb over the back of John's hand, remembering the times she'd snuck into his childhood bedroom to watch him sleep, remembering the only time he woke up. "The passengers in your helicopter are all fine," she told him. "You took the worst of it. It's a good thing you were out there - the site you'd previously evacuated took a direct hit."
Was it her imagination, or did his eyelids flicker?
"I don't know what happened out there, but it was good that you were here, John. You saved a lot of lives."
Across the infirmary, something beeped loudly, and a great deal of activity centered around one bed. Natasha held John's hand while she watched the doctors and nurses frantically try to resuscitate a dying man.
Twenty minutes later, they stopped trying.
Natasha turned her attention back to John. She wondered what lies they would tell the soldier's mother when she asked how her son died.
But Natasha still had her son, and he wasn't dead yet.
Natasha cleared her throat. "I'm going to tell you a story I used to tell you a very long time ago," she told John. "It's about a young man named Steve Rogers, who wasn't very tall and wasn't very strong, but he never stood down from a fight or walked away from a bully."
Quietly, in the chaos, Natasha recited the story of Captain America she'd told John every night, from the day he was first able to beg for a 'Capn 'Merka!' shield. Only this time, Natasha wove in pieces she knew from her days as the Black Widow, about what Captain Rogers had done to destroy HYDRA, to save the lives of men he'd never known.
Natasha supposed it was a nice fairy tale - a man with a good heart able to stand up for what he believed in.
Nothing like that had existed in her world for a long time.
As she ended the story with Captain America crashing the HYDRA plane into Arctic waters, Natasha became aware of Coulson standing on the other side of the bed. He waited until she had finished before saying, "We have to leave."
Natasha knew this was coming, but still, the thought of leaving her son alone in this place made her stomach ache. "Now?"
The look Coulson gave her was all business. She wasn't sure if she'd have been able to deal with understanding. Or worse, pity. "I need to be back in the States for a debriefing as soon as possible."
Natasha looked at John, feeling helpless, and hating it.
"Tasha," Coulson said. "You can't stay."
Natasha squeezed John's hand again.
"General Mikhailov is here."
With a flood of adrenaline, Natasha went instantly into fight mode. Carefully, she laid John's hand on his stomach, and stood.
"Where is he?" she asked Coulson flatly.
Coulson appeared bored, which told Natasha all she needed to know - he was as alert to the situation as she. "In a briefing with the Americans. He'll be there for another half hour. I think it would be best if he didn't know about this."
"That I was here?"
"That Natalie Sheppard's son is here," Coulson corrected, and Natasha fervently agreed. "Let's go."
Natasha nodded, but she couldn't leave, not yet. She covered John's hand with hers, and leaned down to kiss him on the forehead. "Get better," she whispered in his ear. "You're strong and I need you to get better."
She kissed his forehead again and made herself back away. It took every ounce of self control to turn her back on her son, to walk away from his hospital bed, to stand tall like this wasn't killing her.
Natasha didn't break down until they were in the plane and heading for New Zealand. Then she bent over, resting her head against her knees and breathing steadily so she would not cry.
Coulson put his hand on her shoulder and said nothing.
John Sheppard woke from his coma two days later.
end part four
At AO3
Summary: Natasha Romanoff tries to reconnect with her son. This is understandably easier said than done.
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Natasha Romanoff, John Sheppard. Guest appearances by Phil Coulson.
Warnings: Family secrets.
Notes: Beta thanks to
websandwhiskers. This chapter is set in 2004, while John is posted at McMurdo, and also during SG-1's season 7 finale, Lost City (aka the one in which Anubis tries to bitchslap Earth and there's a big fight at the South Pole). I decided that John was at McMurdo during this timeframe because fanfic that's why.Follows Widow's Weeds, Widow's Flight, Widow's Son.
<< Part Three
March 26, 2004
Natasha stood in the overflowing McMurdo infirmary and wondered if this what a heart attack felt like.
John lay motionless in a tangle of cables and tubes, covered in white bandages tinted with blood. He had been unconscious since the twenty-second, when the event on the Antarctic plains had sent every agency in the world into a panic, secrets behind secrets, deception barely covering up whatever disaster had occurred.
Not even HYDRA was trying to claim responsibility for this one.
John hadn't been on the battlefield; he had been evacuating civilian scientists from around the continent back to McMurdo, when a stray something hit his chopper. He'd been in a coma for four days.
A presence behind her made Natasha shift her attention off her son. "The doctors won't know anything until he wakes up," Coulson said.
Natasha took a steadying breath, then another. "What do we do in the meantime?"
Coulson stepped beside Natasha, his sleeve brushing her arm. "I go figure out what exactly happened. You stay here."
Natasha frowned. "You told Director Fury you needed me on this."
"I told Director Fury you needed to be in McMurdo," Coulson corrected. "I'll see you later."
He wove his way through the battlefield hospital chaos, disappearing into the crowd with his customary skill. Natasha turned back to the bed where her only son lay comatose.
She sat on the side of the bed. For all that he had inherited his father's height, John was too slender for a mother's liking. He'd lost some of the muscle bulk he'd had in Afghanistan, more skin and bones and wiry muscle.
Carefully, to avoid disturbing the IV, Natasha picked up John's hand. They'd managed to get most of the blood off his skin.
He was so cold.
Natasha ran her thumb over the back of John's hand, remembering the times she'd snuck into his childhood bedroom to watch him sleep, remembering the only time he woke up. "The passengers in your helicopter are all fine," she told him. "You took the worst of it. It's a good thing you were out there - the site you'd previously evacuated took a direct hit."
Was it her imagination, or did his eyelids flicker?
"I don't know what happened out there, but it was good that you were here, John. You saved a lot of lives."
Across the infirmary, something beeped loudly, and a great deal of activity centered around one bed. Natasha held John's hand while she watched the doctors and nurses frantically try to resuscitate a dying man.
Twenty minutes later, they stopped trying.
Natasha turned her attention back to John. She wondered what lies they would tell the soldier's mother when she asked how her son died.
But Natasha still had her son, and he wasn't dead yet.
Natasha cleared her throat. "I'm going to tell you a story I used to tell you a very long time ago," she told John. "It's about a young man named Steve Rogers, who wasn't very tall and wasn't very strong, but he never stood down from a fight or walked away from a bully."
Quietly, in the chaos, Natasha recited the story of Captain America she'd told John every night, from the day he was first able to beg for a 'Capn 'Merka!' shield. Only this time, Natasha wove in pieces she knew from her days as the Black Widow, about what Captain Rogers had done to destroy HYDRA, to save the lives of men he'd never known.
Natasha supposed it was a nice fairy tale - a man with a good heart able to stand up for what he believed in.
Nothing like that had existed in her world for a long time.
As she ended the story with Captain America crashing the HYDRA plane into Arctic waters, Natasha became aware of Coulson standing on the other side of the bed. He waited until she had finished before saying, "We have to leave."
Natasha knew this was coming, but still, the thought of leaving her son alone in this place made her stomach ache. "Now?"
The look Coulson gave her was all business. She wasn't sure if she'd have been able to deal with understanding. Or worse, pity. "I need to be back in the States for a debriefing as soon as possible."
Natasha looked at John, feeling helpless, and hating it.
"Tasha," Coulson said. "You can't stay."
Natasha squeezed John's hand again.
"General Mikhailov is here."
With a flood of adrenaline, Natasha went instantly into fight mode. Carefully, she laid John's hand on his stomach, and stood.
"Where is he?" she asked Coulson flatly.
Coulson appeared bored, which told Natasha all she needed to know - he was as alert to the situation as she. "In a briefing with the Americans. He'll be there for another half hour. I think it would be best if he didn't know about this."
"That I was here?"
"That Natalie Sheppard's son is here," Coulson corrected, and Natasha fervently agreed. "Let's go."
Natasha nodded, but she couldn't leave, not yet. She covered John's hand with hers, and leaned down to kiss him on the forehead. "Get better," she whispered in his ear. "You're strong and I need you to get better."
She kissed his forehead again and made herself back away. It took every ounce of self control to turn her back on her son, to walk away from his hospital bed, to stand tall like this wasn't killing her.
Natasha didn't break down until they were in the plane and heading for New Zealand. Then she bent over, resting her head against her knees and breathing steadily so she would not cry.
Coulson put his hand on her shoulder and said nothing.
John Sheppard woke from his coma two days later.
end part four