Chapter Text
Refusing to meet anyone’s gaze, you made your way to the Quinjet, eyes holding a sense of emptiness to them as you trudged all the way to the back of the jet, away from everyone else, a sudden wave of nausea flowing through you at what you expected to happen.
You did nothing wrong. If they try to punish us, show them who you really are. Show them me. You know you want to.
You shook your head a little violently, not wanting to attract anymore attention to yourself by arguing with the darkness gnawing inside you, your fingers trembling as you swiftly grabbed a bandage to stop the bleeding from the cut at your stomach, your gaze noticing how the every time you blinked your hands were stained with more crimson, mind racing with memories you longed to forget.
A deafening scream was cut short as your boot snapped down against their skull, a disgusting crack followed by a squelch filling the room as you staggered back, taking in the sight of the slaughtered bodies littered around the ground, your mind refusing to process the sheer amount of blood splattered across your suit, the warm liquid that drenched your entire forearms as you stared ahead at the mirror at your psychotic state.
To unnerve the guards hidden behind the glass, you let a cruel smile take over your face, your hands coming up and attempting to wipe the red off your face, ultimately smearing it instead as a laugh left you. A hysterical laugh that even made you sick to the core, your hands hitting at your temples.
“They thought they could kill you,” the words leave you in a manic way, your laughter only growing as you fall to the floor, pulling your legs up towards your body as your head turns away from the corpses that laid next to you, your own erratic heartbeat drowning out the sound of guards entering the room with guns pointed at you. When would they ever learn? They can’t kill it.
You’ve tried.
You blink back the tears building in your eyes at the continuation from the memory earlier, the events of what happened in that room flooding back to you, your eyes squeezing shut almost painfully to try and block them out, panic rising within you as you patch over the wound, not caring how well it was done. You deserve the pain.
Did you really think you could be a hero?
The voice mocked sinisterly inside your mind, your eyes glossing over with emptiness as you stared ahead, the words that Steve said to you consuming your thoughts instead, the blonde currently being approached by Natasha as you zoned out, drowning in a spiral of thoughts filled with nothing but agony.
You’ll never be more than a monster.
Annoyance and anger was clearly visible in the usually composed emerald as Natasha stood before Steve, her arms crossing over chest as she wasted no time in confronting the Captain.
“Why do you hate her?” She asks, a few others from the team turning their heads at what was about to happen, Clint looking between the redhead and Steve, observing closely to see if there needed to be an intervention. The archer also shared a look between you and Wanda, noticing how her eyes glowed a faint red, a pained expression creeping up onto her face you looked distant, a hint of worry stirring within him.
“I don’t hate her-” Steve tries in an exasperated sigh, exhausted after the mission and wanting to rest on the long journey back to the compound, the Russian not in the mood for the Captain and his attempt at keeping the peace between them.
“Cut the bullshit Rogers,” she snaps, his eyes widening a little at her tone, nervously swallowing as he knew it was a dangerous game to argue with the Black Widow. “What is your problem with her?
“I…” He trails off, an uncomfortable feeling flooding throughout his body, the Captain deciding to just tell the truth. “I spoke to Bucky. He knows her,” he says shortly, meeting her eyes and pleading with her to not do this now but the assassin wasn’t having any of it. There was no need to speak to you like that, to humiliate you after you just saved his life, even if it wasn’t in the most appropriate way.
“How do they know each other?” She asks, her tone containing less anger in it, the vehement emotion being replaced with curiosity, her mind trying to piece all the information together.
“They were paired together by Hydra for over a decade Bucky said,” Steve explains, his discomfort only growing as he continues to remember what his best friend had told him, the gruesome and immoral things the two of you did, the sinister things you did. “Until she snapped,” he directed his gaze over to you, your eyes distant still as Wanda shared a look with Clint, not sure whether she should approach you as your thoughts continued to fracture and blur, your mind clearly unstable. “He’s terrified of her, Natasha,” his tone soft as to try and get her to sympathise with him. “The Winter Soldier is terrified of her,” he emphasises, Natasha thinking carefully about her next words, analysing the situation, “We don’t know what she’s capable of.”
“We didn’t know what Bucky was capable of,” she counters back, “We only let him on this team because he was your friend. We gave him the chance because of you, why can’t we give her a chance? We’re meant to save people Steve, that’s what you tell us all the time, we’re meant to be heroes.” Her green eyes soften at the blonde, using his tactic against him and trying to get him to empathise with you and your situation.
“It was different with Bucky, I knew him,” he still argues and Natasha sighs out, not wanting to use this argument against the Captain.
“Just because you knew him didn’t mean other’s weren’t scared of him,” she states and his eyes widened, a glint of hurt in his eyes, “I think you’re forgetting he’s shot me twice and almost killed me twice.” Steve’s eyes drift down to where the scar is on her hip, remembering their encounter at the hospital where Steve hid the drive in the vending machine, his gaze then going to her shoulder, remembering how she almost bled out in the car with Sam and himself. When Steve opens his mouth, Natasha interrupts him, his words dying on the tip of his tongue, “You’re going to say ‘that wasn’t him’, but that’s not a fair excuse. We still welcomed him to this team when he had those words in his head, we gave him the chance to be free from Hydra, so I don’t get why you refuse to let her have the same chance. She needs our help,” Natasha’s tone progressively gets softer and calmer, needing Steve to open his eyes and see the situation from another’s perspective.
“We can help her,” Steve sighs out, exhausted with this argument, his gaze observing your form, eyes unable to tear away from the Hydra logo on your old suit, disgust inevitably filling him with the knowledge of what you have done, “But I can’t agree to having her on the team.” Natasha’s eyes close in a defeated way as she sighs in disappointment, just wishing the Captain could see everything from a wider perspective. “I can’t live in fear of her snapping, if you can, then fine, but the blood won’t be on my hands,” his tone serious but still holding a gentle tone to it, the emerald green of the redhead’s meeting his icy blue as her eyes flutter open, “It’ll be on yours if you let her join this team.”
At the end of his words, Steve pushes himself off his seat on the jet, his gaze locked with Natasha’s, conveying his emotions clearly to her before brushing his shoulder past her, leaving to sit elsewhere in the jet, somewhere where he wouldn’t be able to see the logo branded on your shoulder.
***
Dragging one foot in front of the other, you gradually made your way off the jet after everyone else, ignoring the cautious stares from Wanda and Natasha as you brushed past them to enter the compound, simply wanting to be left alone for the time being.
You missed how Natasha went to follow after you, Wanda’s hand wrapping around the older woman’s arm to stop her, knowing how unstable your mind was at the moment, signalling to the redhead to give you some space as you walked off, your figure disappearing down the corridor, tense and agitated.
Your thoughts drifted down a dark path whilst you wandered through the corridors of the tower, the world around you a mere blur as you berated yourself, unable to comprehend how you managed to screw your once chance of redemption up, nausea taking over your body.
The painted walls of the compound faded to concrete, the ceiling light blurring into a dangling lightbulb as you staggered towards your room, shaking your head to get rid of the new memory trying to surface, the vivid portrayal of your punishment desperately seeking to ruin your mind, to ruin you.
Your hand abruptly met your door, the steel door fading back to reality as you pushed it open hastily before slamming it shut, fear, anger and disgust consuming your entire body as you stood in the middle of your room, hands braced against the back of the sofa to keep you from collapsing to the floor, the world around you almost spinning. You raised your head, mouth parted to help regulate your breathing whilst your eyes squeezed shut, trying to stop the room morphing into the punishment for your slaughtering, eyes snapping open when you hear a chuckle, a cocky smirk plastered on your reflection.
You’re pathetic.
The darkness mocks, standing upright and looking your panicked form up and down, shaking their head in disgust at you before pausing, a cruel smile tugging at their lips as they tilt their head at you, a menacing glint swirling in their eyes.
You didn’t even show them me and you’re disgusted. They’re disgusted. They’re scared of you.
“Stop,” you grit out, a lump forming in your throat as they refuse to listen to you, continuing to torment you, taking advantage of your vulnerable state. You can feel your heart pounding relentlessly in your chest, ears being deafened by the sound of distant boots, the memory still clawing away at you.
Stop what? Telling you the truth? You murdered that man. You, not me. You can’t even handle that.
“That wasn’t me,” you rush out, eyes wide as you watch as their smirk grows, the idea of you throwing that knife intentionally to kill him making your stomach churn, your mind in disbelief that you would want to do such a thing when you wanted to become a better person, you wanted to help people, not kill them.
You can’t even see it.
They laughed out, your reflection moving around the sofa to stand in front of the glass window, wanting to show off how much this humoured them, how much your suffering amused them.
You wanted it. You wanted to kill him. I didn't even have to take control.
“No,” You snap back, venom lacing your voice at their words, the nauseous feeling bubbling inside you at their insinuation, your reaction only fuelling their entertainment. “That was you, I- I wouldn’t do that. I’m not like you,” your tone lacks conviction as you try to justify what happened, neither of you truly believing your words, “I wanted to save Steve, I did what I had to.”
You did what you wanted to do. You threw that knife so it lodged in his heart because you crave to kill. You didn’t have to kill him.
“Shut up,” you grit out, your grip on the back of the sofa increasing in anger, a snap audible in the room as you break the frame of the furniture, your reflection banging their fist against the window causing you to cower, your voice lowering in fear.
Shut up? Admit it was you in control when you murdered that agent and I’ll leave.
Their tone was filled with authority as you lowered your gaze from their intimidating stare, your eyes flickering across the room as you tried to get a grip of yourself, needing to have something to ground you. They banged their fist again when you don’t respond, the noise blurring into the sound of a metal poll smashing against your cell door, hands going to your head to try and snap you out of your thoughts.
“That wasn’t me,” you whispered out, wanting it to be true, needing it to be true. You weren’t the monster here, you couldn't be.
But it was! If it was me, I’d have gutted him in front of everyone. That was all you.
Realisation flickers across your face as their taunting words sink in, their teeth on show as they grin at your repulsed expression, disbelieving murmurs falling from your lips to help you convince yourself they were lying.
“No… No, no, that’s not true,” your voice trembles as you fall to the ground, turning around so you wouldn’t see your reflection as you pull your knees to your chest, body rocking a little whilst your chest rises and falls, your form a mere replica of the memory as you curled up into ball in your cell, desperately trying to convince yourself you weren’t the monster here.
Maybe they were right about you. Maybe you are out of control.
“Stop, please,” you beg, fingers pressing against your temples, the pads of your index fingers running over the scars from your past that were littered there, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.
Maybe you should be punished. You deserve it.
Their voice sounds closer which forces you to reluctantly open your eyes, part of the mirror in your room not covered by the sheet you placed over it in your sight, your reflection crouching down in a condescending way, looking at you with nothing but disappointment.
Maybe I should punish you.
A sadistic smirk grows on their lips as they continue, enjoying your form shrinking in fear, not wanting to be abused by them.
And when I’m done with you, you’re never going to want to be in control again. Give it to me and you’ll never be weak again.
Give me control.
A breathless laugh leaves you, your head dropping and shaking in disbelief as you truly realise what this has all been about, the darkness trying to claw away at your sanity to make you give into them, your hands wiping your eyes harshly, stopping any of the tears from spilling.
“I’m not giving in,” you mutter out, calming your body down and regulating your breathing, inhaling and exhaling slowly to relax, finding some sort of way to ground yourself so you wouldn’t cave into the darkness. You were better than this, you were better than them. You had to stay strong. You had to. You push yourself to your feet once your breathing returns to normal, still a little unstable as you tremble, your eyes finding the mirror once more, the smirk still present on their face.
Then I guess I’ll just have to torture you until you break-
Instead of smashing your boot into the mirror like you wanted to, you moved the sheet to cover the mirror, your hands going to your ears to muffle their voice as they continued to shout at you, to eat away at you like a vulture, your body dropping back to the floor, finding comfort in the hard surface as you laid down, eyes squeezed shut.
You pushed away the dark spiral of thoughts, focussing hard on trying to not believe their deceptive lies and cruel words in order to convince yourself that you weren’t like them. You didn’t crave to kill. You didn’t want to hurt people. You did what you had to do to save Steve. It was an accident…You didn’t mean it.
Did you?
***
With an empty stare, your gaze was firmly locked ahead of you on the leg of your desk chair, head resting against the floor as you had curled into a ball in the middle of your bedroom floor, intent on doing anything other than listening to your own thoughts drift down the wrong path. Your fingers traced over the fabric of the blanket you grabbed earlier, the soft material draped over your small figure on the floor as you continued to stare ahead absentmindedly, letting your ears pick up on any distant noise in the normally busy building.
You could hear the hum of the electricity flowing through the entire compound, the sound of people walking slowly down the corridor, steps light and tired as they headed to bed, took over your mind as you imagined the scenes in front of you. It was comforting to hear such casual noises fill your ears, the gentle mutter of the agents giving you a peaceful image to picture, their smiles small and drowsy as they'd whisper goodnight to each other before retreating to their respective rooms after their long day of training, desperate to crash in their beds. The thought was almost enough to bring a smile to your face but you kept it stoic, unable to stop yourself comparing the tranquil atmosphere to the constant torture that would happen back at Hydra, the screams of others the ringing throughout the hallways all night long, fear creeping down your spine at the mere memory of the agonising cries of pain before you pushed it all down, your mind attempting to just switch everything off.
Deciding you had spent enough time on the floor, you stretched your body and heard the satisfying cracks of your back as you gradually pushed yourself to your feet, body stiff from being so still for ages. Your hands dragged over your face tiredly, wiping your eyes briefly before you let your hands drop to your sides, mannerisms slightly robotic as you move on autopilot around your room to wake your limbs up.
Rolling your shoulders and hearing the rough fabric of your suit move made you realise that you were still wearing your mission gear, a defeated sigh leaving you as you lacked the energy to change clothes, the reminder of the logo on your shoulder motivating you to change.
Pushing through the exhaustion, your body fell back onto the edge of the sofa as you fought carelessly with the various zippers, your fingers dragging the coarse fabric off of your body before checking on the bandage that was haphazardly tied around your abdomen, the white tainted red. With little care, you simply ripped it off your body knowing that the wound would have healed by now and inspected the area where the slash once was, the skin unmarked as though it had never happened. Your heart clenched a little at the reasoning behind your healing abilities, eyes instantly flickering away from your body as you grabbed a plain grey shirt, slipping it on swiftly to stop yourself from staring at the scars on your body and remembering any more traumatic memories.
As you pulled on some light joggers, your ears listening out for various noises across the compound to distract you, your attention was drawn to the room next to you, brows furrowing at the quiet sounds. A muffled cry could be heard, small murmurs of pleas leaving Natasha’s lips causing your body to instantly wake up, a strange pit building in your stomach at the scared tone of her voice, her heart rate increasing.
Without even thinking, you left your room to knock on her door, trying to figure out what could be happening to her, your mind coming to the conclusion that she was having a bad nightmare as she continued to talk in her sleep, begging someone to stop whilst you knocked on the door, hoping it would wake her up.
“Natasha,” you called from behind the door, the sound of her heavy breathing and pounding heart increasing your own anxiety as you knew personally how horrible nightmares could be, your past never failing to haunt you. You waited a minute to see if she’d snap out of it before deciding to go in, knowing that if you were having a bad dream you’d want to be woken up from it, hoping you weren’t crossing any boundaries as you slipped into her room to wake her up.
“Stop,” she muttered, the sight of her small form curled up on her bed, discomfort etched on her face, made you feel uneasy, the image of her distress causing your stomach to twist.
“Natasha,” you tried again softly, her body shuffling slightly at the noise but still not waking up. You could see the sweat building on her forehead from the way fear tormented her body, your mind searching for a way to wake her up without startling her but failing to do so. “Wake up, it’s just a dream,” your voice was still gentle and soft, eyes landing on her bedside table and deciding to knock on that to see if the noise would wake her, her body flinching at the noise causing dread to engulf you.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper when you make her flinch, your mind coming up with no other ideas than to try and shake her to see if it would snap her out of the dream, reluctance clear on your face as you didn’t want to make things worse for her.
As soon as your hand made contact with her shoulder, her body reacted immediately in defence, her hand gripping your forearm and throwing your body over hers, landing on the other side of the bed as you didn’t expect the force of her pull, her swift body soon towering over yours as her legs straddled your middle, pinning you down.
Your eyes were almost as wide as hers as her emerald flickered around the room to figure out what was going on, grip still strong on you as she assessed the situation, trying to comprehend if there was a threat or not. Her eyes met yours, your heart almost physically cracking at the sheer amount of fear in them, the way it was directed at you as her mind slowly pieced things together. You watched nervously as one of her hands grasped at her shirt, the sweaty fabric uncomfortably clinging to her body whilst her heart was still pounding in her chest, the pounding so hard that you thought it was going to break through her chest as she convinced herself she wasn’t back there. She was still in her room, her anxiety slowly subsiding and confusion taking its place as her brows furrowed at the sight of you under her, the action quickly causing you to speak up.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” your words spill from your lips quickly, containing a hint of nervousness as you hoped you hadn’t done something that would drive her away, regret filling you when she doesn’t respond. “You were having a nightmare, I tried to wake you up with noises but-”
“It’s ok,” she sighs out after a minute, letting things process in her mind, guilt evident on your face as you peer up at her, the sight of you underneath her prompting her to move off your body, falling back onto her side of the bed and covering her face with her hands, her heart rate still elevated as her eyes fluttered shut.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” you repeat again, your voice cracking a little bit as the fear in her eyes struck a chord in you, the thought of her being terrified of you playing around in your mind, the words from the darkness creating a swarm of doubt about your place here.
They’re scared of you.
“I know,” she whispers back, forcing the images out of her head as she tilts her head to look at you, “I just thought you were one of…them.” Her words are apologetic due the tone of your voice before, a small glimmer of gratitude appearing in her eyes as you stopped her reaching the part of her dream she dreaded the most.
Feeling her gaze on you, you tore your empty stare away from the ceiling to meet her emerald green, noticing the small appreciative look before looking away again, feeling uneasy as you didn’t know what to do now, your mind filled with nothing but insecurities and negative thoughts. You pushed away your own doubts and worries about your actions to the side to focus on her, wanting to make sure she was alright but that proved much harder than you expected, never having to comfort someone before so you tried to think of what to do, only one thing coming to mind.
“Do…Do you want to talk about it?” Your tone is tentative as you ask, recalling the many times she had asked you the same question after hearing you’d had a nightmare. Slowly, you turned your head back to meet her gaze, searching her face for a reaction as her mouth parted, words on the tip of her tongue before she hesitated, a sigh leaving her as she moved her gaze to the ceiling, your eyes lingering on her side profile.
Weirdly, your fingers itched to push back the stray strand of hair that was framing the side of her face but you stopped yourself from the strange desire, directing your gaze to her mouth as she whispered what was bothering her.
“I …” her voice trailed off as she debated opening up to someone, her past something that would forever haunt her, her mind and her heart telling her different things as she gradually continued. “Do you ever think you’re going to wake up one day and be back there?” Her voice was small as the words fell from her lips, your brows furrowing as you’d never seen her appear so vulnerable, your gaze softening as you related to her words, the dread and apprehension always gnawing away at you.
“Every day,” you reply honestly, keeping your eyes on the small movement of her lips as they part again, her eyes flickering across the ceiling as she tries to phrase her words.
“I just feel like none of this is actually real,” she confesses, tilting her head to look at you, a slight glossiness in her eyes as your gazes meet tenderly, “And one day I’ll wake up with my hands cuffed to the headboard again, wishing it was all over.” At her words, your thoughts naturally piece together that she was referring to the red room, the stories of girls cuffed to beds, forced to train and become the fearless widows filtering through your mind, a small wave of rage washing over you at the idea of people hurting her, breaking her, crafting her into an emotionless killer.
A brief silence takes over the room as you try to figure out what to say, her eyes nervously gauging your reaction, regret filling her as she knew she shouldn’t have opened up to someone, her eyes squeezing shut and head dropping back against the pillow, defeat slowly consuming her.
“I’m scared too,” you confess, hoping that your words would be able to comfort her in some way by showing her she wasn’t alone. “Everyday I see things from my past, the…” you pause, voice cracking a little at the emotion behind your words, “The brutal things I’ve done and I don’t know if they're really there or if it’s my mind punishing me for being so cruel. I don’t know what’s real but I know this,” your gaze is locked on hers as she listens to you, your hand motioning between the two of you whilst an intimate atmosphere builds in the room, “Being here with you feels real. You feel real.”
A small smile toys at the corner of her lips at your words, her gaze lowering as she admires your features momentarily, a small glint of something appearing in her eyes as her gaze lands on your lips, the look disappearing just as quickly as it came.
“I’m real,” she murmurs in a soft voice, raising her hand up and offering it to you, letting you place yours against hers to feel her; to feel the softness of her skin, the pads of her fingers, the gentle pressure of her hand against yours. It was real. She was here with you, and you were here with her.
Your own lips tug up into a soft, caring smile, her response just as you had hoped as you let your fingers brush down her hand as the tender touch ends, her calmer expression causing a warmth to bubble in your chest.
“Well if you’re real, and you’re here with me, you can’t be back there,” your tone is laced with care as you whisper the comforting words, hoping they would help her. “I’ll make sure you never end up back there,” your words are quiet but promising, a hint of seriousness to them as her expression drops slightly.
“You can’t promise me that,” she sighs out but the determination etched on your face causes her mind to want to believe you.
“I can,” you counter, “I’ll do anything to make sure that it doesn’t happen. Anything.”
“Thank you,” she whispers before a small silence wraps around the two of you, the sounds of gentle breaths filling the room as you let your gaze drift across her features once more, seemingly unable to stop admiring her. The swirl of different shades of green were hypnotising and mesmerising, the gentle slope of her nose almost angelic, the gentle blush on her cheeks delicate and beautiful, the woman never failing to amaze you with her beauty, your mind constantly in awe of her.
When your gaze landed on her lips, you noticed them part, a hint of hesitation washing over her features once more making you furrow your brows, looking at her expectantly as she contemplated asking another question.
“Can we talk about earlier?” Her tone is cautious as she observes your reaction, the sight of your jaw clenching, eyes flickering away from her as you move your head to stare at anything other than her, expecting disappointment and disgust to take over her, makes her regret letting the words leave her lips.
“I’m sorry about earlier, it was an accident,” you respond, your voice lacking any sort of composure to it as the thoughts you had spent all afternoon and evening trying to avoid flooded your mind, the guilt and shame swallowing you up. “I was just trying to save Steve, I promise, I-”
“Hey, it's ok,” she interrupted with a soothing voice, almost cooing the comforting phrase, “I’m not angry with you.”
“You’re not?” you ask almost in shock, expecting her to demand an explanation for messing up the mission, to trick you into making a punishment worse for yourself.
“No,” she softly says, smiling at you in a gentle manner to try and ease your nerves, your body clearly tense and uncomfortable next to her as if you were waiting for something to happen to you. “You saved Steve, that’s all that matters,” her tone is laced with honesty as you tentatively let your gaze meet hers, the softness of her features almost overwhelming. “I just wanted to ask about what happened in that room I found you in,” her words have no pressure behind them, not forcing you to answer her but they still make you freeze, the idea of telling her what truly happened in that room making you feel nauseous and uneasy, a lump forming in your throat as you try to not remember what you did.
A deafening scream reverberated around your skull as you held the other experiment down, the feeling of blood coating your entire arm earning a sadistic and cruel smile from you whilst your fingers rummaged through flesh. Agonising cries spilt from their lips in a desperate plea for their life, their begging only encouraging you to wrap your fingers around one of their ribs, snapping the bone and ripping it out of her body, another animalistic screech filling your ears. The weeping only stopped when you used your strength to stab their own rib into their chest, listening intently for the disgusting squelch as the bone sliced through their heart, the erratic pounding subsiding as the life drained from their eyes, your gaze admiring what you had done.
“I lost control,” you manage out in a pained voice whilst pushing yourself up from the mattress, moving to the edge of her bed whilst your hands move to your head in a stressed manner, needing to get rid of the memory as you feeling the bile rise up your throat, Natasha’s face morphing into worry at your switch in demeanour. “I’m sorry,” you mutter out, squeezing your eyes shut and blocking out the next brutal attack, “I’ll um, I’ll let you get back to sleeping,” you say to change the topic of conversation, not wanting to talk about this anymore, hands pushing your body up off her bed.
“Wait,” she softly calls out, her hand wrapping around your forearm gently, your body stopping at her gentle touch, head snapping down to where she held you tenderly, conflicting emotions coursing through you. “Stay, please,” she whispers as your head eventually meets her nervous gaze, the redhead not wanting to be left alone to struggle with the rest of the night. “We don’t have to talk, just… stay, please?” She asks and your mind begs you to leave her, to isolate yourself and curl back up into that ball on the floor, to punish yourself for what you had done whilst your heart tells you the opposite, to stay. She was safe. She wouldn’t hurt you like them.
The conflict is clear on your face as she waits patiently for you to settle your inner turmoil, your mouth parting, the words ‘I’m sorry’ on the tip of your tongue but fading away as you decide on what to do, choosing what you want to do for once rather than what would be best.
You nod your head at her subtly, offering her a timid smile as she moves over for you, welcoming you to lay next to her, your back resting against her firm mattress, the more solid material comforting to you compared to your soft one, your body not feeling as though it was sinking.
“Thank you,” Natasha whispers in a tone that was so incredibly soft and quiet, the spy unable to explain why your presence was so comforting to her, the way she felt like she could relax with you something she loved but couldn’t quite figure out.
At her words, you offer her a small smile, tilting your head to look at her for a final time as you meet her enticing eyes, getting lost in the pools of green until she lets them flutter close, exhaustion creeping up on her from the eventful day. You turn your gaze back to the ceiling as she drifts to sleep, the sound of her steady breaths and calm heartbeat allowing you to relax next to her, your own eyes gradually closing as safety eventually envelopes you.
“Goodnight Natasha,” you murmur before you let sleep consume you, the horrifying thoughts from earlier dissipating from your mind, a certain shade of green taking their place and letting you drift off, tranquillity taking over the room.