riverviewlogs | [closed]

who: Ava & Natasha
what: Natasha has suspicions about the fire
where: Around town
warnings: None? Will update if needed, yadda ya.

[Ava's been pretty scarce since the fire. Not that she was ever particularly a public fixture, but she spends less time people watching, less time drawing. Instead she helps with the rebuilding for those first few days, and then she spends a lot of time in the abandoned city. She hangs around Tony's workshop sometimes, stays with Bucky instead of moving back into the communal housing because she just doesn't trust herself. She still goes to the gym, usually very early or very late, trying to avoid other people until she can see something other than the damage she caused. But her routine is different.

To someone with suspicions, it likely wouldn't do anything to dissuade them.

It's one of those early mornings, still dark and grey and empty when she sees Natasha. Hair as red as her own, and Ava can't help the fact that the woman always draws her attention. Ava has two paper coffee cups and a bag tossed over her shoulder, and she walks over a little uncertainly. She always is when it comes to Natasha, but she's not about to pretend she didn't see her. If Natasha doesn't want to talk to her, that's fine, if she does... well, she'll try not to shoot herself in the foot.]

Morning. [She waves vaguely in her direction despite having a hand full of coffee cup.]

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[Natasha's answer tells her the response to the question she hadn't asked -- if she wanted to talk, or this was casual coincidence. But she nods, a slight gesture of her fingers as she leads the way to the gym that's hardly halfway down the block.

Ava raps her knuckles on the door, and a dark-haired young woman unlocks the door. Ava hands over one of the two coffee cups as the girl lets them in, smiling and warm for the thirty seconds it takes to exchange hello how are yous. It's a tiny bit of a manipulation, in that Ava isn't really the girl that Lydia has a fondness for, but that's neither here nor there, really. She's never really had the temperament for large-scale deceptions, but she could pretend to be normal, here and there.

It always feels strange, walking next to Natasha, like seeing her own reflection. She sips at her cappuccino as she walks toward the alcove with the drip machine and the very basic array of additions. ]

You wanted to talk. Right?

I did. Do you know what I wanted to talk about?

[ The girl was sharp— Natasha didn't know how to feel about that. On the one hand, it would make it harder to catch her off guard. On the other hand, it was good, good for girls to be clever. Even if Natasha did not always appreciate a challenge. Before Ava can answer, though, she waves her off: ]

But first, coffee.

[ She was awake enough without it. But going through the motions, of waking up, of being tired— it was comforting. Natasha's favorite kind of vulnerability was the kind she feigned.

But she really wasn't a morning person. ]

[Natasha waves it off before she can answer, but Ava's still considering. The obvious answer would be something about the things that Ava's been almost-hiding, the things hinted at but never really said. But it seems too obvious, the tone of her approach a little off. Which didn't leave many options. Something about James? No. It's the fire.

But she doesn't comment, instead just sips at her cappuccino as Natasha gets her coffee. It's a dangerous thing to admit she understands, however. The only reason the fire is on her list is because she knows she's responsible. And she's not quite sure she wants to admit to it.

Once they both have their cups of coffee, she finally asks:] So what do you want to talk about? There are things I haven't told you, but I don't think my story really interests you.

[ Was that true? Everything interests Natasha, in so much as everything is information she can use. There are just… things she doesn't want to hear. ]

Hmmm.

[ She takes a sip of her coffee. It's stale, but hot enough that it's hard to taste. ]

Is there anything you want me to know?

[At the question she quiets for a moment, shrugs her shoulders.]

I don't want to force anything on you. That's not-- If it's easier for you, just seeing what happens? I'm okay with that. Everything that happened back home was kind of a mess, anyway.

[She cares about her, even if she's not the same. She's always been a little helpless when it came to caring.]

You want a fresh start?

[ Natasha didn't believe in those, but she could understand the impulse. And maybe it would work for Ava, even if it hadn't for her. She was still very young. ]

I'm not sure I really get one. There's too much--

[History. Too much hurt, too much tragedy.]

But, none of that was with yours. You weren't the one that hurt me. So I'm not sure my story really matters.

[She wasn't sure. For James she was a piece of his guilt and someone to protect. She wasn't sure Natasha wanted any of that.]

[ She takes another sip of the coffee. It's bitter and dark. Maybe she can swallow those things, just for a minute. ]

Do you think the people you've hurt are the only ones that matter?

[ It's a real question— there's a hint of something in her voice, something besides marble. Not soft, exactly, but yielding. She came to find out more about Ava, what she had to do with the fire, but she didn't want to extract the confession like a pulled tooth. Well, not if she didn't have to. ]

[She quiets for a moment sips at her coffee more for the gesture than anything. A moment to process the question as she looks at the other woman.]

They're not the only ones.

[She doesn't deny that implication that Natasha wasn't the only one that hurt people, or that Ava has a list of her own. Some causes more direct than others.]

I know you're staying with Barnes. [ Because she's sort of stalking him, no big. ] He's not good to talk to about guilt.

Yes.

[Ava nods; she hasn't been trying to hide that fact so it doesn't particularly bother her that Natasha knows. And while she might consider arguing that point, that's giving a little too much away. That he was the reason she stayed after the fire instead of finding somewhere to hide, no matter how dangerous and guilty she felt.] James has more of it than most.

[ She takes another sip of the coffee, then says in a matter-of-fact tone. ]

No one ever calls him that.

[ James, she means. This is getting curiouser and curiouser. ]

[She knows that, but it's become so habitual over the past few months she didn't think about it until Natasha called her on it. She pauses, eyes flickering up to the other woman. You do but she doesn't say that, of course.]

It doesn't seem to bother him.

[Which maybe says something in its own way, but says less than the explanation of why.]

[ Well, Natasha doesn't, not anymore. ]

Of course he doesn't. It doesn't matter what you're called. [ Romanov, Romanoff, Nadine Roman, Nancy Rushman, the Red Death, that bitch. She'd have a new name tomorrow, probably. Natasha had given up her secret identity a long time ago, but it hadn't made her any more transparent. ] What matters is what you do.

Edited 2017-09-26 23:11 (UTC)

[ Ava has her own litany of names, some she likely doesn't even know. So she understands the sentiment, even if it's not always a positive one. Not all of the things she does are good as much as she wants to be the hero. Someone that wouldn't disappoint anyone. Someone that didn't leave things around her burning. ]

That's true.

[ A touch of a smile, a nod of quiet agreement. ]

He's good.

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