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Do you need, do you need someone? Are you scared of what's to come?
. . .
She's staring out into space, her surroundings foggy, as her knee bounces nervously. They are almost there, almost at Melina's house. And they don't know what to expect when they get there. Yelena had said it was bad over the phone. And she sounded scared. Lost.
Did something happen with the Widows?
With Melina? Or Alexei?
Natasha swallows, shifting restlessly in her seat. When suddenly, she startles, a familiar hand brushing against her arm. Steve tilts his head, his sky-blue irises shining with worry, as he silently prays for her to raise her head and meet his gaze. Some type of acknowledgment. To do something. Anything.
Shakily, she releases a stuttering breath, before slowly raising her gaze off of the ground. She's barely holding off the tears threatening to leak from her emerald orbs, and he doesn't hesitate to thread his fingers within her own.
"It's gonna be okay," Steve comments.
"You don't know that," Natasha replies numbly.
Anything could be wrong. Someone could be hurt. And it would be all Natasha's fault. She should have made sure to keep in contact. Her phone calls and texts with Melina twice a month aren't enough, and neither is her weekly check-ins with Yelena. She should have known better, should have made sure they were alright.
"We're here," Clint comments from the pilot seat. He focuses on landing the jet as smoothly as possible, trying to give the couple in the back a little privacy. He will keep an eye on his best friend – always - but for the moment, she is getting all the support she needs from Steve. The Captain is good for her. And she's good for him. They complete each other.
The Captain and the Spy. Yin and Yang.
They would burn the world down for one another.
The archer shakes his thoughts away, noticing a crowd forming in front of the house. Almost like a shield. Most of their faces hold no emotion, as their hands rest over their weapons. But a few of the young ones allow their fear to slip across their faces. Their uncertainty.
Natasha releases a slow, even breath, taking the time to compose herself. She closes her eyes, shoving the emotions behind her marble walls, before crawling into the familiar Black Widow skin. And it takes every bit of Steve's training not to flinch at the unusual sight of her cold emerald orbs. She's distancing herself – protecting herself – from the situation ahead of them. It has been a long time since she's had to do that.
