Somewhere over the Atlantic

Spring 2015

For the first time in what felt like an age, Nadine felt like she could breathe freely, easily. Like the weight of her fear and guilt and worry weren't trying to crush her into the ground.

And it was all because Nina lay, safe and alive, on the infirmary bed next to her, her daughter's hand clutched tightly in hers.

Sure, there were still moments where her chest would clench and she'd fear it was all a cruel dream, but then Nina would make a sound in her sleep or her fingers would flex beneath Nadine's and the feeling would ease. A measure of fear still twisted deep in her stomach—Nina was still hurt for all that she was safe, after all, and she hadn't woken up yet—but it was manageable thanks to the knowledge that her daughter was recovering.

Barely a few feet away, the Maximoff girl still lay curled against her twin, virtually lost to the world. She hadn't moved since she'd lain down next to him. Nadine had actually feared for the girl, that something had been irrevocably broken inside her, when the medic had first led her into the infirmary; she'd been virtually comatose. Save for the faintest of perplexed creases between her brows, the vague blankness of her expression had reminded Nadine eerily of what the girl had done to the Avengers in Johannesburg. She'd worn virtually the same lost, even anguished, vacant look as they'd had.

At least, until she'd seen her brother.

The instant the girl had laid eyes on Pietro it was as though something had snapped back into place. Colour had begun seeping back into her dirt-streaked cheeks and her eyes seemed to come back to life. She'd inched tentatively to his side, as though unable or even reluctant to believe what she was seeing. Her features had been so wary, as though she'd feared it was some sort of cruel delusion.

But then, with shaking hands, she'd reached out to touch his cheek...tears had genuinely sprung to Nadine's eyes at the indescribable relief in the small, hiccupping sigh that had escaped from the girl.

Then, without so much as another sound, she'd laid down next to him, silent sobs shuddering through her as she cuddled against her twin as though the proximity was a crucial to her as oxygen. And perhaps on some level it was.

The bond between twins was a mysterious and sacred thing, after all, and at times beyond rational explanation.

The infirmary around them was quiet beyond the gentle hum and steady beeps from the monitors, the efficient S.H.I.E.L.D. medics having finished setting the infirmary to rights and retreated into offices or out elsewhere on the ship. Without the medics, the only occupants were the Maximoff Twins, Nadine, Natasha and Nina. Initially, the worst of the injured from Novi Grad had been brought to the ship's designated infirmary, everyone else funnelling through the mess hall-turned-overflow-infirmary to get a brief once-over by the Helicarrier's medics and the odd doctor from the city.

But once the city had fallen and had been vaporized by Stark and Thor, the worst off had been collected and airlifted away. Not long after, the civilians had been similarly ferried away as well, the lifeboats returning them to solid ground.

Leaving only the Avengers and their allies to occupy the Helicarrier and its glass-enclosed infirmary. Nadine was perfectly content with that. The urgency and noise that came with a bustling rescue operation had only grated on her already frayed nerves. The quiet was a godsend.

For as long as it lasted, at least.

Not long after the Novi Grad refugees had disembarked, Barton had dropped in to check on Nina, Nadine and the Twins, relating what had happened to Nina and Pietro as best he knew; he hadn't seen much, having been ducking away from the Quinjet's bullets right as the two of them had rushed forward to shield them. Once she'd exhausted her questions for him about the incident, after he'd updated her on what else had been going on since the city had been destroyed, he'd informed Nadine that Fury was giving them a lift back Stateside. Apparently Stark had been working on outfitting a secondary facility for the Avengers for the last several months already; Fury was going to drop them off there even though it wasn't quite done yet. Briefly she contemplated asking to be dropped off in Vienna with Nina, but Nadine couldn't quite summon the will to do so. She didn't have the energy or the heart to disappear just now. She was tired of running, of fighting. She was tired of being everything but Nina's mother. She was tired of being the Ghost. Just now, all she wanted to do was reassure herself that her daughter and her sister were alright.

She glanced up. Next to her, Natasha had dozed off where she'd settled on the cot next to Nina's once the infirmary had finally emptied, abandoning her sentry position near the main entrance to sit near Nadine. Not long after that she'd finally consented to allow the medics to check her over too; they had declared she'd gotten a nasty bump on the head just short of a concussion when Ultron had attacked her and Hulk before he'd moved on to Barton, Nina and Pietro. But, of course, Natasha had waved off the following order to rest, settling in to join Nadine's vigil. Something Nadine appreciated to no end. Nina still hadn't woken up, and though the medics had assured Nadine that she was out of danger and would wake up when she was ready, Nadine couldn't help but worry anyway. Having Natasha next to her lending her silent support helped immensely.

But the redhead had been visibly distracted...not to mention physically and emotionally drained. Distracted as she had been herself, it had taken Nadine far more time than it should have to discern why.

And it was more than just worry for Nina and a poorly hidden fear that Nadine was about to disappear again.

Everyone had popped their head in to see for themselves who Nina and the Twins were doing. Even Fury and Stark had made silent appearances—the billionaire had unsurprisingly been not quite able to meet Nadine's gaze. Barton had later told her that he'd subsequently jetted off ahead, supposedly to make sure everything was on track at the new facility before the rest of the team arrived.

But there was one face that hadn't appeared. One that Nadine knew would've been quick to check in and see that Nina and especially Natasha were okay.

Doctor Banner.

It only took a few moments of careful study of her little sister's reserved features once she'd realized as much to figure out what had happened.

He'd left...and he'd left Natasha behind.

Part of her couldn't say she'd been surprised when Barton had confirmed as much, his voice low to keep from waking Natasha. There had been little question even before Sokovia and Johannesburg that the mild-mannered doctor had been struggling to keep his demons in check. Unlike Natasha, he hadn't been second-guessing his need to run; that had been perfectly obvious already back in Ultron's base before he'd gone green. It made her sad to think on it, but it was what it was. She couldn't blame him, honestly. Not knowing him even for the short time she had. He'd thought he'd come to terms with what he was after the Battle of New York, but he'd realized with Ultron's creation that he wasn't so easy with his conscience as he'd wanted to believe. That there was a great deal he needed to come to terms with. And she knew from experience that it was hard to do that around other people. Even the well-meaning ones.

But her heart ached for Natasha. It went unsaid that Banner's flight had hit her hard. And naturally she was doing her best to hide it away; force of long habit. But she couldn't quite hide of from Nadine or Barton.

When he'd been updating Nadine, the archer had been unable to keep from glancing to his best friend, concern clear in his eyes. The redhead had finally fallen asleep not long before he'd appeared. Natasha had been unwilling and likely unable to let herself rest, having only settled on the cot by Nadine to indulge her older sister. Though she'd tried, Natasha hadn't quite been able to hide just how preoccupied she'd been, her expression before drifting off when she thought Nadine wasn't looking betraying that she'd been far too lost to her troubled thoughts to sleep. But she had eventually succumbed, falling into a fitful doze.

As Nadine glanced to her sister again, Natasha stirred. Only this time she didn't settle again, her sleep and exhaustion-clouded eyes opening to habitually and subtly scan her surroundings before fixing on Nadine. Only once her instincts for caution were appeased was she stifling a groan, stretching out her stiff muscles as she straightened.

"How long was I out," she asked somewhat blearily, sleep still evident in her voice as she glanced between Nina and the Twins, her keen eyes flicking over the monitors. Nadine couldn't help but smile fondly.

"Not long. You missed Barton, though." Natasha nodded along as Nadine quietly filled her in on everything Barton had passed on while she'd been asleep. Only the faintest hint of hurt flickered across her features at mention of Banner, but it was more than enough to confirm Nadine's suspicions. She debated letting the matter lie, but the concern her sister's reserved, even veiled expression brought out in Nadine wouldn't let her. Not even temporarily.

"You okay, lisichka?" Nadine asked softly, "I know you and Banner were close—"

"It's okay, Nadya," Natasha answered back just as softly, a trace of hurt still in her eyes. But her tone was genuinely, well...not okay, but getting there; resigned was probably the best word. "I've come to terms with my demons, my ghosts. But he's still working on living with his." She smiled sadly as she looked up at Nadine. "It wasn't the right time." A sympathetic smile rising to her lips, Nadine reached out to take her sister's hand in hers, squeezing silently in a gesture of solidarity. But she had nothing to say. Natasha had said it all. And Natasha didn't need words right now, anyway. Just someone to understand. Well, Nadine could provide that gladly. Gratefully, the redhead squeezed back before sighing softly, her gaze dipping to her lap for a moment before looking back up to the blonde.

But before she could say what she was obviously preparing to say, the soft hiss of the infirmary door sliding open cut her off.

Simultaneously the two spies turned to see who had interrupted their quiet conversation.

Captain Rogers had come to a halt just inside the door, glancing to Nadine before looking with distinct concern to Nina. Next to her, Natasha frowned thoughtfully, a thread of wariness appearing in her expression as she watched the Captain that quickly had Nadine frowning too. It was decidedly odd. Slowly Natasha stood, slipping around Nadine to stand between her and Steve. Rogers glanced to his teammate before his attention returned to Nadine. She had already returned her gaze to her daughter, her heart beginning to thrum anxiously.

"We need to talk," he said quietly, his voice impassive and his tone final. Natasha made a small, unhappy sound.

"Does it have to be now," she murmured, a trace of exasperation in her tone, "we already talked about this, Steve." Nadine saw him straighten subtly out of the corner of her eye. She already knew why he was there. She had the minute he'd walked in the door; it had been clear on his face. Just as it had been clear there would be no dissuading him until he got his answers. And she suspected Natasha was well aware of it too. Her stomach churned uneasily. She'd known there'd be no getting out of this conversation if she stuck around, but she'd been hoping for a little more time, at least. Obviously of similar mind, her little sister was doing her best to at least get him to hold off a little while longer. "We can do this once we get to Tony's new base." It was an attempt she appreciated, to be sure, but part of Nadine also just wanted it over with. Slowly he shook his head.

"I need to hear her side of it, Romanoff," he said firmly.

"Steve—"

"This is not up for debate. It's a conversation that needs to happen before we reach the base." He sounded almost apologetic, but that couldn't be right.

"Her daughter was injured, Steve," Natasha argued, her disbelief thick in her low voice. Nadine flinched, the lingering fear lurking in her gut twisting with sick anticipation about the looming conversation. "She could have died! Surely this can wait until Nina at least wakes up." Steve hesitated, visibly conflicted, before he sighed heavily, looking intently down at his friend.

"I need to know, Nat," he murmured, sounding nearly plaintive despite the frustration beginning to thread his tone. He looked back to Nadine. "I need to know what happened between you and hi—"

"Not here," Nadine interrupted, finally looking up to him. Her voice was hard but still somehow pleading. Steve hesitated, his eyes hardening as traces of his earlier hurt and anger returned.

"I don't think you get to decide that, Ryker," he countered almost defensively. It was then that Natasha stepped closer to him, a restraining hand gripping his arm.

"She's right, Steve. Not here." Steve's jaw clenched, barely sparing Natasha a hard glance from his critical focus on Nadine.

"Why not here, Natasha. It's private, secure. Beyond that it hardly matters where this conversation happens," he ground out. Nadine's own jaw clenched and she stood slowly, sparing Nina's sleeping form a last glance before turning toward Steve. With each controlled step, her expression shifted seamlessly from resigned unease to all but emotionless, hiding her reactions away.

"Because of her," she said coolly. "I don't care what you have to say to me, Rogers. It can hardly be worse than many of the things I've thought about myself over the years." She paused, gesturing back toward her unconscious daughter, and though she didn't allow herself to look, her meticulous mask wavered anyway. "But I won't burden her with it. They're my secrets, my mistakes. Not hers. She's been through enough." Steve's eyes narrowed but after a moment his gaze flicked to Nina, his expression softening. Finally, with a sigh, he nodded.

"Alright." At once he was scanning the infirmary before settling on the abandoned chief medical officer's office. Without a word he fixed the two women with an unmistakable look and strode to the office. She only hesitated for a split second, but Nadine followed without argument despite part of her recoiling violently at the idea of the Captain interrogating her over some of her greatest regrets. She pointedly ignored the concerned and even alarmed look Natasha shot at her. It was going to be hard enough to keep her emotions in check and seeing her sister's concern was not likely to help there. Mercifully, as Natasha followed Steve and Nadine into the office, she seemed to realize as much, schooling her features just as Nadine had. At first Steve seemed nearly uncertain about Natasha joining them, but one impassive look from the redhead as she closed the door had him falling silent. Just as she knew when it was pointless to argue with him, Steve evidently knew when there was no chance of getting Natasha to back down. Nadine nearly smiled at the silent exchange.

For a long, tense moment no one spoke, no one quite sure who should start and no one quite wanting to be the one to break the silence now that the conversation was about to happen. It was evident from the atmosphere alone that it was a conversation everyone had been dreading, which did nothing to ease the sense of anxious reluctance lingering in the air. Steve leaned against the desk, his arms crossed tightly across his broad chest, his gaze lowered and sightless. Nadine stood motionless off to the side, unable to look at the Captain, carefully keeping her expression emotionless as her own arms wrapped tight around her torso. Natasha was the only one who seemed to be able to look at either of them, her eyes alternating between cautiously studying first Rogers then Nadine and then Rogers again.

But finally Steve was the one to break the silence.

"Why didn't you tell us," he asked softly. There was very little inflection in his voice, making it hard for Nadine to read him. She had suspected he might open with that question, and part of her was relieved he had. Of all the questions she suspected he had lined up to ask her, it was theoretically the easiest to answer.

But in place of words, it was a small, defeated sigh that made its way unbidden from her throat, her words abandoning her.

Apparently it wasn't so easy.

Her heart sinking, she knew then that she simply couldn't hold onto the secret on her own anymore. She didn't want to. Just like she didn't want to run anymore. Her stomach churned again at the realization, a baffling mixture of dread and relief accompanying it. And even if she had wanted to keep the whole of the truth to herself, she also knew she couldn't. Not anymore. She was going to have to admit the truth about Nina. It was the only way to fix this. The only way to salvage what was left of the relationships she had already begun to treasure.

Taking a deep breath, she forced her reluctance and her long-ingrained instincts to stay silent away.

And she started talking.

A/N: Thanks for Reading!

Don't forget to Vote and Comment