The Prisoner | Natasha x OC

Chapter Twenty-Three

"We are made of all those who have built and broken us."
~
"Why is it that when the story ends we begin to feel all of it."
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Natasha didn't move from the couch where she was fixated on a wall. The action would use too much effort. The fabric comforted her, moulding against her body, her one leg crossed in her lab. She'd unconsciously sunken into the seat, the softness of it cushioning and cradling her.

She was aware of her increased heart rate, could feel the shakiness in her hands. She noticed her faster-than-usual breathing. And that anxiety in her stomach- it was building. She was no stranger to anxiety and panic attacks and knew that it was more than likely one was approaching.

Her thumb and finger gently moved along the rough fabric of the armrest, twisting the stray pieces of string from where it had been sown together.

Solomon occupied a couch across from her and hadn't said a word. She noted the way he looked at his phone every few seconds, each of his glances making that anxious feeling grow. Because she knew he was scared, scared for Natara. And if he was scared, then there was good reason to be.

"Should I be worried?" Natasha's voice had a slight rasp from disuse. Her eyes remained on the wall, words sounding as distant as she felt. Each blink was an effort, her eyelids heavy and eyes burning. She had to fight herself to keep from closing them.

"I don't know."

She took a single breath at his answer, breathing in until her lungs hurt. Everything felt cold as confirmation was poured over her like a bucket of ice. "Who is he?" Still she didn't look away from the wall. She hardly felt she was even there, in that room. Instead being far far away-- where no thought or feelings occupied her mind and body.

"Jay. He does not have a surname, at least not one that I am aware of."

"What else?" Her words were still distant, any unknowing person would label her tone as bored. But the other person in the room was aware of her inner struggle. Because he was feeling it too.

"It is not my place," Solomon answered, wishing that were not the case.

Natasha took another breath in, this time to calm herself down. "If something happens to her... it'll be on you. Both of you." She didn't receive a reply.

Seconds seemed to last hours and minutes seemed to be fleeting. Natasha had disassociated, eyes never leaving that wall. If she had to think about it, she'd realize that no thought truly took space in her mind. But then she'd have to think about it, something that would destroy the blissful state of silence inside her head.

"She didn't want you here, you know."

A blink.

Slowly, she turned, eyes following a few seconds after her head. The large man seemed smaller in this moment, more human, reduced to the product of his emotions. "What?"

Solomon stared at the redhead steadily. "Nok did not want you here. When we first realized that plus ones were compulsory, she wanted to take me. But she was... lonely, I think. In a way she did not realize." He sighed, clearly preparing to talk. "And she'd spoken of you to me, many times. I suggested she bring you." His dark eyes turned distant as he recalled the memory. "She didn't speak to me for two days after I told her that."