∆ {6⁹} {FOOLISHNESS IN HOPE} ∆

NATASHA'S VISION WAS spinning by the time Roxi had finished explaining. She could feel the way their hands were gripped together - she'd linked them while Roxi talked to try and anchor herself to the presence of the woman she'd found a home in. She had half a mind to rip herself away from Roxi, to hold her hand close to her chest as if she had been burned, and to scream through watering eyes at the information that she had kept to herself; how could she have not told her?

However, sterile air burned at her eyes that felt dry, scorched any words off of her tongue, her mouth dryer than anything that seemed humanly possible. Natasha found herself simply staring, Roxi's face creased into guilt and dread and fear and what looked like a thousand other things all at once. It seemed so out of place for emotions to be swimming behind those ice blue eyes that Natasha wondered if it had had a hand in rendering her so useless in this moment where she should surely say something. Anything. And yet, Roxi's words simply kept repeating in her head, and she could barely stomach hearing them one more time.

Natasha forced herself to focus on the droning of the white lights, on the distant chatter of Mara as she chatted with Steve in the next room, awe still lacing her gravelly voice and raising it a few tones as she talked about her cat.

How she could dare to go on about such trivial things sent Natasha into a steeper nosedive, falling and spiralling as a stone ground that seemed to be tinted purple by her swaying vision raced up to meet her. The part of her that wanted to yell, to shout, thrived in her utter shock and grew and grew until the only thing she could do to stop it was carefully remove her hand from Roxi's and cup the woman's face in her hands.

Roxi's icy blue eyes met her own forest green, both swirling with a desperation to escape this feeling of impending doom. Natasha's hands were shaking, and it was only then that she realised that it wasn't only her sustained shock, but that Roxi's whole body was trembling with the weight of what she'd forced herself to carry, to hide from Natasha.

Natasha forced herself to take a deep breath, the stinging air barely going into her lungs. She kept inhaling until she couldn't anymore, until her chest began to feel so full and heavy that she felt like she could burst.

She let the air go in a breathless gasp, a flurry of words accompanying it into the thrumming air.

"It's okay, Roxi. We'll be okay." The words were a promise to both of them, because if Natasha wasn't right, she wasn't sure what she'd do.

Roxi had never actually confirmed Natasha's suspicions, but her explanation had been drawn to a close with a pleading look and a whisper of "don't make me say it," and that finality was more than enough for her. Roxi pulled her closer, into a desperate hug that found them both clinging to each others' clothes and never wanting to let go. Natasha buried her face in Roxi's shoulder, praying that it would stifle the tears she was determined not to let fall, trying to use Roxi's body as a shield from the harsh realities of a world that had always been far too hard on her.

She felt Roxi do something similar, and that was enough for any semblance of her stability to evaporate as she collapsed into Roxi, those goddamned tears finally escaping from her eyes and trailing the curves of her face.

Roxi almost shuddered as she felt Natasha melt into her, her entire frame wracked with signs of nothing short of sheer dread, and found herself hating how unusual it was for her to be the one comforting Natasha. Natasha had easily been through more in her life, and yet she was always the ones picking up Roxi's pieces and putting them back together for her, and a sliver of self-loathing wormed its way into Roxi's mind at the thought.

How could she let this woman comfort her so often and never give anything back? Natasha had always been amazing to her, and yet this was the first time that Roxi could really remember that she'd helped her. At that moment, Roxi vowed that for as long as she could, she would help Natasha's life to be better. Comfort her more, help her, try to be more independent. Just do the little things for the love of her life rather than acting like a helpless child who wobbled around the floor and could barely walk.

So Roxi pushed the dizziness and the endless throbbing pain and the overwhelmed sensation to the back of her mind and straightened her back, curling Natasha into her body as much as possible in the small bed. She had to do this, she had to.

Otherwise she'd be abandoning Natasha to her grieving and her stress and her worries while greedily taking up as much of her time as possible so that Natasha didn't care for herself. Because she was sure that she would go that far. After all, when had Roxi ever been good at helping other people?

She never helped Natasha, barely comforted Wanda - her sister - and all those people had died over the years because she'd been too fucking weak to help them. In that moment, all Roxi wanted to do was etch pencil lines into her skin again, where the tattoo ink now lay, in hopes that the pain would act as a punishment for that part of her mind that was dedicated to help people, as a reminder that it was never enough, that she always could've done something more. Something else. Anything, really.

When Roxi closed her eyes, she carefully moved to a more uncomfortable position that would probably be more comfortable for Natasha, despite it sending an awful pain shooting hotly up her spine, praying her body not to jolt unnaturally as it had when she'd felt the spikes of pain in the past.

Behind her eyes, another thought approached her. She should probably be training harder as well. She knew, vaguely, that it'd been five years, but something always cropped up again, and she hated to think that she'd be as weak as she had before again. Roxi was sure that her training had helped a little, and that her reaction time was better, but of course it wouldn't be enough.

She had to do something more. She had to get herself used to being absolutely drained, because it always came to that and she was never prepared. It seemed to make perfect sense to Roxi in that moment that she should drain herself to the point of passing out, to practise for when it would really matter, to learn how to extend her skills and their balance further than she'd ever imagined.

After all, that dark, desperate part of her whispered, it couldn't hurt to drive herself to the very brink of everything, as long as she'd finally be enough, as long as she finally did something right.

THE NEXT MORNING, Natasha found her concern for Roxi sharply increasing. She'd slept in the hospital, because Steve had backed up Natasha on the fact that she shouldn't leave yet, and Natasha hadn't wanted to leave her alone after such a worrying occurrence. But when Natasha woke up, Roxi was sitting against the wall, a pillow propped up for her to lean against for comfort, and staring at her hands.

There were new blisters there, and Natasha found herself worrying that she'd gone to train in the middle of the night. Mara had confirmed it a few hours later as Natasha had got them breakfast, Roxi saying she was too tired to get up, and would rather stay in bed and save her energy for the trip to Tony's. Her voice had shaken slightly, and her eyes had slipped from Natasha's face back to her hands at the mention of the planned trip, or maybe even the man himself.

Natasha had brushed it off initially with a gentle nod, and had simply given Roxi her toast, but now, they were meant to be leaving, if they wanted to arrive on time, and Roxi looked even less inclined to leave the confines of the less-than-comfortable hospital bed. She'd even gone as far to whine that her head was still aching, that her legs still felt weak. Natasha knew Roxi well enough to know that she wasn't one to put something off in her own interest. She'd drive herself off a cliff for other people if it meant she could keep them safe, without a single complaint.

When Natasha had insisted that they leave, nearly half an hour later, Roxi had almost shrunk back from the idea, covering herself in the thin covers as if they would shield her from the existence of the trip, of the knowledge that she had to go and see Tony.

Roxi knew that he said he was helping her, but he'd already told her to stop training so intensely. If he saw the aftermath of her night's training, the bags under her eyes, and how thin she was, he'd surely tell her to do even less. That was what she didn't need, and there was no way that she had the energy to confront him about it.

Her body felt so heavy. It was something she'd never felt before. So drained, so empty of any emotion except dread or determination. She found herself determined that she should get used to this weak feeling. After all, this was vaguely similar to how she felt when she'd over-exerted herself. Dark, and like she'd plunged into the frigid oceans of her mind that boiled so far above her head that she could never hope to reach the surface.

Roxi, this time was content to let herself sink, to let the water pour into her lungs like a suffocating poison, if only it would help her get used to it, to build an immunity that would leave her undoubtedly stronger, able to help so many people that she'd never been able to.

But one glance at Natasha's concerned face had her flashing back to the previous evening. To how, once again, she felt like a stupid child, curled up on themself to hide from the dangers of the big bad world. Roxi wasn't a child anymore. She hadn't been a child for a long, long time, and yet, she found herself being reduced to the behaviours of one more and more often as she grew older.

It was purely to spite herself that she eventually got up, forcing herself to get changed and to get into the car as quickly as possible. For Natasha.

The car made her regret her decision. A car was one of the few places she really felt like she could be going backwards like in that moment where everything had gone to hell. As it happened, Natasha had driven far less to Tony's over the years than Roxi had, purely because she didn't know if she could stomach seeing her friend while she was already holding up the Avengers pretty much by herself.

Tony's cabin, being in the middle of nowhere, was very easy to take wrong turns on the way to. Natasha had managed to get them into one, glancing at Roxi every few seconds with pure attention, scared that Roxi's strong exterior would crumble into nothing if pressure was applied in just the right place - even the slightest touch.

Roxi's hands were gripping the leather seat so tightly the material was wrinkling, her eyes screwed shut as she muttered something to herself under her breath like a chant. By the time they were out of it, Roxi's hands had gone to her forearm, where her nails were etching themselves into the darkened skin, before going up to her temples and sinking in there. Her nails had grown long, she hadn't realised. So long that they bent against the side of her head as she applied the pressure, and she pressed so awfully that Natasha had to yank her arms down, away from her face.

Natasha's face was fixed in a worried frown for the rest of the drive, a harrowing anxiety clawing through her body, racking her frame with shivers made from pent-up stress. She knew it had gotten this bad, but somehow seeing it, having it all in front of her, evidenced so clearly, sent shockwaves of worry coursing through her like she'd not felt in a long, long time.

Their arrival had Natasha out of the car and into the house before Roxi could even register they'd arrived, her heart racing with worry as she stormed through the house, ready to find Tony and let herself scream at him, just so that anger didn't boil up within her for the next few days. How could neither of them have told her?

Roxi was still shut in the car, her mind still trapped in the backwards motion, going from feeling heavy to weightless as her head spun and gravity seemed to be fluctuating constantly.

All it did was remind Roxi of the moment she'd lost Wanda, of how one moment, she'd seen her sister's face, her eyes that she couldn't quite remember the shade or shape of, then the next, she'd simply been gone. Weightless, shattered into dust as if she'd never really existed.

TWO WEEKS LATER, and Roxi was looking worse than ever. She was sitting in the corner of the meeting room, slouched in a barely comfortable chair, eyes half closed as she tried to pay attention to the meeting. Natasha was leading it. She always had all these years, but Roxi had made herself sit there more recently in case Natasha needed her.

However, she wasn't sure how much help she'd be today. She'd trained herself to the point of near-collapse, and it'd taken a harsh word from Mara to get her to grudgingly give up for the morning. Now, she was slumped with Mara's black cat, Liho, lying elegantly on her knees, one hand lazily stroking him, her half-lidded eyes fixed on Natasha and where she sat a few paces in front of Roxi. Mara had got him recently, from a shelter or something like that, and had brought him to live in the Compound, claiming that Natasha and Roxi needed another living thing to help fill up the terrible emptiness of the place. Natasha had taken one glance at him as he'd attached himself to a set of curtains and had given him his name, something that Mara had also left up to the two of them.

Natasha's forearms were resting on the table, an untouched peanut butter sandwich sitting dejectedly on a plate to her side. Before the meeting, they'd both agreed to eat one half, but that notion seemed to have disappeared along with both of their appetites. Roxi finally let herself smile a little at the fact that Natasha still cut her sandwiches into triangles, something that she'd told Roxi she did purposefully to annoy Fury, who for some reason, didn't like it.

Liho sat up and brushed against her torso, Roxi scooping the small cat close to her chest and cradling it as though it was one of the most precious things she'd ever held. That statement wouldn't exactly be wrong. She was glad though, because she hated disturbing him once he got comfortable, and this way, she could stand up and move closer to Natasha, just as the meeting ended. Roxi walked over to Natasha's chair and stood just behind it, letting Natasha rest her head on her stomach, carefully arranging her arms so that she could sufficiently carry the cat with one hand, and comb through Natasha's hair gently with the other.

Natasha let out a weighted sigh, slumping back into her chair, glad to find Roxi's familiar warmth already so near her. Roxi noticed Rhodey first, and met the man's sad gaze before Natasha realised he was there. Her mood dropped even more as she realised he was probably here to give Natasha information about.

In fact, she barely listened to Rhodey as he began to relay the information he had, focused entirely on the woman pressed into her stomach. Liho was emitting his soft, rumbling purr that lulled Roxi into a placated calmness, her bitterness at the world and herself soothed by his gentleness. She would stay as attentive as possible though, because she had to be there for Natasha. She couldn't fail Natasha again.

As soon as Rhodey had finished speaking, Roxi gently set Liho down on the table and moved Natasha's chair so that she was in front of her, and pulled her into her arms. Roxi had seen the tears threatening to spill from Natasha's eyes, and was pretty certain that if Natasha started crying, she'd be quick to follow.

The two of them swayed gently as both of them tried to occupy their self-sabotaging minds, whispering empty promises to each other about how surely, everything would be alright.

"You know, I'd offer to cook you dinner, but you both seem pretty miserable already." Steve's soft voice coming from one side had Roxi's eyes snapping open in an instant, her body tensing in Natasha's eyes, though she refused to look at Steve, instead focusing on wiping off any tears that were running down Natasha's face. She couldn't look at Steve, because she was sure he would tell her he needed to eat more, to sleep more.

But she knew that. She simply had no appetite, and even when she forced herself to carry on eating, she carried on losing weight. She was barely skin and bones, though her proactive training had helped a little. It certainly helped her to look more filled out, and for her to feel better about herself.

Sleep was evading her too, even though she'd found medications to try to help her with it. In that time before the truly awake part of her and her mind admitting to sleep, thoughts didn't lead it alone.

Dormiveglia, she thought she'd heard someone call it. The space that stretched between being awake and asleep. Roxi hated it, because that was when all the feelings loved to rise, to flow out of the space below the trapdoor as she lay down, and to try and drown her in the darkness.

Natasha managed to gather herself, to pull back from the hug and to face Steve, though neither one of them dared to let go of the tether between them that was the other's hand.

"You here to do your laundry?" Natasha asked, without any real aggression behind it. Steve didn't come over often, but Mara had told her he'd mentioned visiting more often since her accident a few weeks ago.

"And to see some friends," Steve confirmed lightly, and Roxi couldn't bring herself to speak, because she knew her words would be filled with a spite that Steve didn't deserve to be the victim of. No, those harsh words were meant for herself only, that nasty, sharp tone that was oddly jaded, now that she was on the verge of collapsing nearly every waking hour of the day.

"Clearly, your friends are fine." Natasha knew that was a lie, about the both of them, but she wouldn't bring that up now, not when Roxi looked so permanently exhausted, a deathly sheen coating her skin.

"You know, I saw a pod of whales when I was coming over the bridge." Steve diverted the topic to something lighter, something nicer. It just reminded Roxi of fake smiles that people wore at funerals to try and comfort one another while they all rotted from the inside out.

"In the Hudson?" Roxi's eyes landed on the half of the peanut butter sandwich that Natasha had left explicitly for her, a vague sort of dread seeping into her as she realised that now, she had to eat it. That was their deal after all, even if Natasha had only eaten the first half to divert from the difficult matter of Clint that she'd been discussing not two minutes earlier. She didn't want to eat it; it would only make her stomach ache.

"There's fewer ships, cleaner water." Liho meowed at Natasha loudly, and she sat down, one hand still locked with Roxi's as she let the cat jump lightly onto her lap.

"You know, if you're about to tell me to look on the bright side, um, I'm about to hit you in the head with a peanut butter sandwich." Tears were still glimmering in Natasha's eyes, their forest green darting from Liho to Roxi to Steve and back every few moments. Roxi's stomach seemed lighter at the sound of the threat, praying for anything to happen so that she wouldn't have to suffer through eating it. Plus, she wouldn't be able to just have a snack in the situations that she was preparing herself for. She'd have to deal with the drained state, which some part of her was determined that she was actually getting better at functioning in.

"Hm. Sorry," Steve apologised, an empty smile stretching across his face, "force of habit." He sat down opposite Natasha, and Roxi was nervous now, because he could actually get a good look at the state she was in from this angle. She knew it didn't look good, but that was the point, and they'd stop her from practising if they realised what she was doing.

"You know, I keep telling everybody they should move on, and grow. Some do. But not us." Roxi finally sent an icy glance to Steve, edged with something spiteful and bitter. They couldn't just move on, and assume nothing was ever going to happen again. Their lives had never been that lucky.

"If I move on, who does this?" Natasha questioned, her speech lacking energy in such a way that Roxi felt a sudden pang of desperation to try and fix her hopelessness, to help her smile again like nothing had happened.

"Maybe it doesn't need to be done." Steve suggested, and Roxi finally spoke up, keeping as much bite out of her tired tone as she could.

"It does. Just in case, Steve. Something always goes wrong. It's been far too quiet for far too long. Just in case." She whispered the last words, repeating them like a promise to herself, as if that would justify her creeping paranoia, by saying the damned phrase again and again until she sounded like a broken record.

"I used to have nothing." Natasha started, finding her eyes snagging on Roxi as she looked around the room, not daring to stop looking at the woman in her peripheral vision as she carried on speaking, as though afraid she would vanish just as so many people had five years ago.

"Then I got this job. This.. family. And I was better because of it. And even though they're gone... I'm still trying to be better." Roxi found herself crying now, as she gripped Natasha's hand a little tighter, the last sentence causing her to lift the woman's hand to her lips in a gentle kiss. A reminder that Roxi was there for her whenever Natasha needed it.

"I think we all need to get a life," Steve stated, once again trying to lighten the mood in a way that made Roxi want to snap at him for not understanding, even though she knew he probably knew this better than the rest of them.

"You first." The bitterness dissipated as quickly as it came, simply glad to see a smile twisting onto Natasha's face. Next time she'd be the one to put it there, Roxi was sure.

A blue alert sparked into existence as it hovered in front of them, telling them about a disturbance at the front gate. Roxi quickly accepted the alert with her free hand, Natasha's other hand occupied with petting Liho calmly.

A video feed popped up, a man standing in front of a brown van, waving at the camera desperately.

"Oh, hi, hi!" It was a vaguely familiar voice that greeted Roxi's ears, and she found her attention snapping to it as she frowned at the projection in utter confusion.

"Uh, is anyone home?" Wasn't that-

"This is, uh, Scott Lang." All three of them straightened, any drowsiness shaken Roxi's form as they stared at the screen, Roxi half-inclined to let her jaw hang open in disbelief.

"We met a few years ago at the Airport, in Germany? I was the guy that got really big. I had a mask on, you wouldn't recognise me." Natasha slowly stood to her feet, one hand scooping Liho from her lap and placing him back on the table where he curled up in disgust at being disrupted from his rest. Steve did the same, and Roxi squeezed Natasha's hand so hard that it must've hurt, though Natasha said nothing.

"Is this an old message?" Steve asked, trying to process what they were all seeing with a tone of distrustful disbelief.

"It's the front gate."

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Hi guys, here for my random spontaneous update. Honestly, I have no idea how this is so long, but I hope it's good enough for you to enjoy it. Sorry for the somewhat triggering topics, Roxi's not in a great place. But yeah, enjoy this, I have no idea when the next update might be.

JABBERJAY_011

WORDS [4300]

WRITTEN [02.08.2022]

PUBLISHED [02.08.2022]