The Prisoner | Natasha x OC

Chapter Six

"It's hard to forget your past when it's written all over your body."
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Cold metal bit and pulled tight at her wrists. The scent of unwashed bodies and urine stuffed itself up her nose and all she could feel was that craving, that need-- for those drugs he'd be giving her in a few moments. To take everything away-- all of it. Her fear, her loss, her life-- all of it. She wanted all of it gone. She wanted her life over.

Natara Faez jerked awake, heart racing. She took deep breaths, trying to fill her lungs with fresh air to get rid of the scent that still overrode her senses-- the one of stale body sweat and feces and urine. Calming down slowly, Natara looked around. The jet. They were still on the jet. Everyone around her looked lost, in their own minds, eyes clouded.

It was then that she felt it, faint spasms in her hand. She looked down to see another hand in her own, slender and very faintly scarred from what was undoubtedly a lifetime of holding weapons. Following the arm, Natara's eyes landed on the redhead beside her. Mouth slightly parted and a crease between her brows, one that was slowly deepening.

A nightmare, she realized. Natasha was dreaming. Her eyes scanned the woman whose spasms grew more frequent. Coming to the conclusion that it'd be better to wake her up, Natara took a breath.

She didn't know why she was doing this, why she cared. Fuck that. Natara knew exactly why it was that with tender caution she lay a soft touch on Nat's arm. It was because she herself knew what it was like to be trapped in your own subconscious and surrounded by your own demons with no way out.

She also knew that when she was experiencing them, facing those demons, soft and loving touches were so alien in the place her mind had dragged her that she'd be able to get free of it and re-enter reality.

A soft caress down her arm, a gentle brush along her fingers, and a slow and careful push to move her red hair behind her ear. Natara continued with these feather light touches until Natasha's eyelids fluttered and she could see that beautiful green beneath them.

Natasha awoke with the softest gasp as she could see her surroundings once more. She looked to her right and found Natara, eyes empty, a husk of a person. One who'd been ravaged by the horrors of what she'd seen and endured. Nat didn't have time to do anything before the blonde looked away, staring into space.

Feeling as empty as Natara's eyes had looked, Nat, too, lost herself in her mind once more. Even the faint tingling across her arms and hand and cheek faded and became nothing more than a shadow as she relived everything over and over again.

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Natara startled awake for the hundredth time and could've cried from the frustration. She was going to kill her-- the Maximoff girl. And she was going to enjoy it.

She looked up blankly as the quinjet's doors opened and not wasting anytime, Natara scrambled out. Grass and flowers surrounded them, so many. The smell of it-- the grass and the openness-- was liberating. Maybe it was the difference in the smells due to her nostrils still being filled with a scent she'd long since forgotten. But the second Natara was outside she threw up. All the contents that had been in her stomach emptied and she could finally breath a little bit.

A hand landed on her back and she flinched, hard. Turning around quickly she saw Tony Stark with his hand still raised as if in the middle of an action. He was clearly surprised at her reaction. Sparing herself further embarrassment, Natara just straightened up and cleared her throat. She waked forward without another word, following behind Clint Barton who was supporting Natasha. Natara's green eyes narrowed for a few moments as she caught sight of Natasha or more specifically, the state that the redhead was in.