Work Text:
Sara had grown to like it here.
She still felt out of place, cautious of those around her.
A month had passed since she’d left on her unsanctioned mission, or as Tony like to call it “Typical Rogers Act of 2013”. Since her return, she’d found her ground, interacting with the Avengers to see where she could fit in with them.
Steve… Her father… had taken over command as the trainer. Sara had made the mistake of referring to Steve, and the Avengers as Handler’s and the paled, blanked expression that fell over her Bucky’s face soured her, and the word “Handler” never passed her lips again.
She’d been allowed to sit in on Steve’s first lesson, listening as he debrief Sam, Wanda, Vision and Pietro on what to expect, on what they will need to know and achieve to be accepted into The Avengers. She found the entire interaction baffling, recalling how her Handlers had trained her.
They offered no words. They simply attacked. It was for her to learn from her mistakes. It was brutal to know realised, but, she knew it was necessary.
There had been one man, however, who had been kind to her during his short stay in the ICE – Program. He’d been as gentle with her as he could be, muttering under his breath when he was sure no one was listening on how she could better herself, instead of attacking her and waiting for her to learn through experience.
She never knew him, and his face was formless, but she recalled his deep voice and his calming dark eyes. Sara had tried to find him when she had left Hydra, but she had been unsuccessful. So, she left him in her past, knowing their paths were never meant to cross again.
During her time with the Avengers, she’d bonded with Bucky and Steve, wanting to establish a relationship with the men who she called her fathers’ and who considered her their daughter.
When she wasn’t with them, she spent her days with Wanda and Pietro. She loved their banter and found that when she was having a dark day, she would always return to bed feel better after a day with them.
Today was one of those days, but Wanda and Pietro were not in the Tower. No, instead they were off on a mission with Steve and Sam.
At the reminder, Sara bit into her sandwich with anger, the loud scrunch of the lettuce vocalizing her emotions.
She should be on that mission, too.
But instead, Steve had refused to authorize it. They claimed she still had more training to do but she knew her being their daughter was the real reason they were leaving her on the side lines. She’d argued her experience, vehemently listing her credentials but that only seemed to make things worse.
“I can do this! I have more training than you,” She had spat at Steve. “I have done covert ops since I was ten. I have a higher kill count than Wanda and she isn’t even in control of her powers! Why am I a liability, yet, you allow a man who’s been retired for a few years, a child who’s only strength is he can run extremely fast and—”
“Enough!” Steve had snapped. “This isn’t up for a discussion. You gonna remain here and that’s it.”
She glared at him, angered when Steve didn’t falter. Wanda had an apologetic expression in her eyes, and Pietro looked to be considering standing up for her, but Sam’s pointed look silenced him. So, Pietro muttered under his breath in his native tongue, and Sara caught the clear “she has a point”.
Steve heard him as well but he didn’t back down.
“Fine.” She seethed.
She turned and walked away, ignoring Steve as he called out, “And don’t even think of leaving this tower!”
For that, she had slammed the door behind her, drowning out his reproaching words.
Unable to contain her anger and fighting against the burning rage that threatened to consume her, Sara had taken the elevator down to the training room and lost herself in the training obstacle Tony had designed for Natasha, Steve and Bucky, specifically.
When she’d burned off the pain, the shame and the anger, Sara had limped back to her floor, knowing Steve nor Bucky would be there. Bucky had been sent on a mission with Clint yesterday and they were expected to return the following day.
Alone, with silence mocking her emotions, Sara took another bite of her flavorless sandwich. Bucky always made their sandwiches, and since flavor had never been an important factor when eating, Sara was left to create a poor imitation of what Bucky would have prepared for her.
She heard the elevator to the floor ping. The doors slid open smoothly and silence greeted her, but she could sense the secondary presence that moved around her space.
“Hey, kid.” A gentle voice greeted her, and the chair next to her shifted.
She peaked out from the corner of her eye, over the curtain of blonde curls that currently acted as a blocker, the sight of the vibrant red hair settling the anxious ball that had been burning in her core. “Hi.” She muttered.
Natasha leaned forward and snatched an apple off the fruit bowl, rubbing it against her black shirt before taking a crunchy bite. Sara took another bite from her sandwich, staring down at the small remaining piece. She chewed slowly, buying herself some time.
“I heard you got into it with your dad, today.”
Her dad…
Sara swallowed, stubbornly staring down at her plate.
Natasha took another bite of her apple. “Have you trained?”
Sara paused, considering if it would be worth engaging with Natasha. Ultimately. She gave in and nodded.
“Did it help?” She hesitated, before nodding.
“Good.” Natasha turned in the chair, resting her elbows on the counter. She took another bite from her apple, and Sara finally swallowed her sandwich, shoving another piece into her mouth before the opportunity was missed.
“I’m not here to defend his actions.” Natasha continued.
Sara froze, her head snapping over to stare at the Black Widow, who’s green eyes were softened with understanding. The corner of Natasha’s lips curled into a grin, crooked but not mocking. Sara narrowed her eyes, cataloguing the older woman’s body language, searching for any signs of deception, however, faint it may be.
“Yeah, I know, shocking.” Natasha joked. Sara’s felt the heaviness in her heart lift. “Steve has a tendency to always assume he is right. Now that doesn’t mean he isn’t wrong.” She gave Sara’s a pointed look. “But it does mean his way is not the only way.”
Sara swallowed her food then, turning to face Natasha. Emboldened by Natasha’s support, she said, “He had no right to leave me behind. I have passed all my classes. I am better trained than everyone on that team.”
“I know.” Natasha nodded. “But skill isn’t the only thing that counts when you are on a team.”
Laughter escaped Natasha at the bewildered expression that struck Sara’s features.
“Look,” Natasha leaned closer with an amused smile. “I am very well trained, as we both know, but, I’m only allowed on certain missions. It took me months, before SHIELD allowed me on the field. Do you know why?” Natasha quirked her eyebrows in question.
Of course, Sara knew.
“Yes. The Red Room trained you to be an assassin, to be covert and invisible. You were efficient but didn’t require a team. A system SHIELD seems intent on keeping.” Sara barely held back her eyeroll.
Natasha looked at her and Sara watched as a knowing mask smooth out Natasha’s features. In that moment, Sara knew Natasha finally saw past the youth face, through the eyes that tricked anyone, and inspired unwarranted faith and inaccurate interpretations. They had been Sara’s key features when she had first started going on missions for Hydra. Her American traits played on the hearts and minds of everyone ultimately who fell at her hand. “I know who I am.” Sara continued; her voice stronger than before.
“I know what I can do, and I know what needs to be done to do it.”
“Maybe.” Natasha’s lips quirked. “But, sometimes, you have to give others the time to get to know you. James and Steve are very protective, and right now, they have to think with a whole new mindset. Which often conflicts with the minds of a soldier and team leader. You are their daughter, something they are still getting used to, and that alone gives them reason enough to lock you up somewhere where this world can never touch you—”
A spark of annoyance cut through Sara. She opened her mouth, ready to speak up when a warm hand touching hers cut her off.
“But,” Natasha stressed. “They also look at you as they would Wanda and Pietro. They understand people like us aren’t children, because we never had a chance to be a child.”
Sara looked at Natasha and saw the understanding in her eyes and the tortured knowledge that resided in the depths of her green orbs. She felt a tug within her, a door creaking open and warmth flooded her. She looked away, down at the crumbs of her sandwich, swallowing thickly.
Natasha’s thumb stroked back and forth over her hand. It was so tender, and Sara’s eyes dropped on to their hands. Sara realised that this was the first time Natasha had touched her without it being a prompt for something. Normally, Natasha would touch her shoulder, or her elbow, but never with the intent such as this. Bucky and Steve, and often Clint, were the only people who seemed eager to hold her for the simple purpose of holding her.
But, as Sara felt the warmth of Natasha’s hands on hers, blanketed by knowing and understanding eyes, the hollow feeling that plagued her and refused to relinquish it’s grip gave way and shrunk.
“What do you suggest I do?” Sara dared to asked, looking at Natasha with pleading eyes.
Natasha thought for a moment, her pink lips tugged up into a small smile. “Give them time. And keep being exactly who you are.” She smiled at Sara, a small cocky edge to it that had the blonde girl smiling back, her smiling growing with each passing second until a small laugh escaped her.
“The Avengers are a family. They are my family.” Natasha ducked her head to catch Sara’s eyes. “And they will love you for exactly who you are, just have a little faith and trust in them.”
Sara thought back to Steve and Bucky, who sat with her and talked with her. Some days when she didn’t feel like socialising, Steve would sit beside her and draw while she read a book. Sometimes, Bucky would watch a film with her, something silly and Disney, just to forget about the outside world.
When her bad days reared its ugly head, Bucky would knock on her door, asking her if she wanted to train and then, together, they would spar with her. She would watch as the mask of ‘Father’ fell away, and they were treating her like she needed them to treat her. Not with kid gloves, or with caution touches. They fought back and when exhaustion turned their bones and muscles into liquid, they would return to their floor, clean up and then watched something and eat together.
They would just be.
“Now.” Natasha patted her hand. “I hear you are a fan of Mulan. Want to watch it with me?”
When Steve and Bucky returned from their respective missions, it was to Natasha and Sara curled up on the couch, their feet tangled together, with Shrek, their fourth movie, playing in the background.