The Prisoner | Natasha x OC

Chapter Thirteen

"I am lonely in places I didn't even know existed inside me."
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Natasha

"I see Natara's back," Steve spoke, looking up from his newspaper as Nat entered the room.

"Uh, yeah. I saw her last night when she came in." Nat tried to push that entire meeting out of her mind as she took a seat in one of the chairs, placing her mug of coffee down.

"Ah," Steve nodded. He kept quiet for a few moments, hesitating. He then looked up at the redhead across from him, eyebrows furrowed. "How did she seem? Last night. Was there anything different?"

"Uh," Nat looked up, seeing this conversation was going to take place one way or another and so she gave him her full attention. Clearing her throat and giving an absent shake of her head, she replied, "No. Not really. Why?" She watched closely as Steve shook his head, the blonde seeming conflicted.

"I don't know." Steve took a breath, trying to figure out the answer himself. "Did she tell you where she was these past two weeks?"

"No." Nat shook her head and shrugged, trying to pretend she wasn't very interested or concerned. "Did she tell you?"

Steve shook his head, trying to make sense of everything. "Maybe it was nothing," He decided though he knew he didn't really believe that.

"What was?" Nat asked cautiously, trying to gauge what he was thinking. She watched Steve struggle with himself, letting out a slightly irritated sigh.

"She just seemed... not Natara."

"And that's not a good thing?" Nat asked dryly, a small smirk on her face. She watched Steve fight a smile in response.

"Interestingly enough, no."

"Well I'm sure she's fine," Nat reassured. Her shoulders rose and fell in a half-hearted shrug. "Maybe we just forgot who we were dealing with. The potential end of the world leads everyone to be a little nicer. Maybe this is the real her." Steve didn't looked convinced.

"I don't know," The supersoldier let out, leaning back. "Maybe she just needs someone to extend a hand."

Nat scoffed and her eyebrows rose in disagreement. "Let me know how that goes." She let out a sigh and watched her fingers run over the desk, the shiny  wood smooth beneath her fingertips. "Natara doesn't do friends," She informed with a tight-lipped smile.

"She tell you that?" Steve asked, his eyebrow raised. His eyes tracked Nat's fingers for a few seconds, trailing back and forth on the desk.

"More or less," Nat replied. Her fingers moved from the wood to instead wrap around the handle of her mug as she raised it to her lips. Her eyes flickered up to watch Steve.

"Well maybe we should extend a hand anyway," Steve argued with a soft smile.

"She may just bite it," Nat retorted and shot him a look. Steve's smile only grew, his look soft.

"I heal fast."

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Natara