The Best of Us

3: Inhuman

The base is a hive of activity, even within the confines of shadows. Upon their arrival, an agent attempts to take the young girl from Natasha but she squirms, not wanting to let go. "Come on sweetheart it's okay, we need to get you looked at." It takes several more attempts but eventually, the agent is able to successfully take hold of the girl and quickly ushers her away.

Feeling something she can't quite explain, Natasha takes a step forward to follow them but Maria's firm grip on her arm brings her back. "Nat, let them do their job. They know what they're doing," Maria urges.

Natasha's gaze remains fixed on the agents taking the young girl away, her thoughts racing. "She's just so young. I didn't think Inhumans went through the transformation this early," she murmurs.

"Usually, no. But there can always be exceptions. I'm sure we will find out soon." Natasha nods, finally tearing her eyes away from the agents now prepping to put the girl through her tests. Maria puts a hand on her arm. "You okay?" Natasha nods.

"She looks as young as Yelena was when we were separated."

"Nat," Maria's grip tightens on her arm.

"I just can't help but wonder whether she was separated from someone. She shouldn't have been there on her own."

"No matter what this is, it's not the red room, okay? We can be sure of that now." Natasha nods but doesn't look overly convinced. With one last squeeze, Maria releases Natasha's arm and leaves the room, presumably to find Nick. Natasha knows she should go with her, have a proper debrief, but instead, she looks back as the girl begins her tests.

Hours later, the evening casts long shadows throughout the base, bathing the room in a cold, unwelcoming light. Natasha finds herself back in the same room, her gaze fixed on the young girl as she endures yet another round of tests. It pains Natasha to see the fear etched across her face. As much as she knows the tests are necessary, they shouldn't be.

It's not long before Maria quietly approaches. "Fancy seeing you back here. What's got you so invested?"

"Honestly? I'm not entirely sure. There's just something about her," she admits, an unusual vulnerability in her voice.

"You sure it's not just because she reminds you of your sister?" Natasha shakes her head. A soft chuckle escapes Maria's lips. "You're a lot like Clint, you know. Always ready to step in when someone's in need. It's one of the things that makes you an exceptional Avenger," she remarks, genuine admiration in her eyes.

Natasha brushes off the compliment. "It's not just a quality of an Avenger, Maria. It's a necessary part of being human," she counters, her voice suddenly harsh.

The testing room suddenly erupts into chaos as sudden sparks flare, casting erratic blasts of energy all around the room. Agents scramble in panic, shouting and frantically searching for a way to control the situation. In the midst of it all, the young girl pulls out all the wires stuck to her skin and curls into a protective ball on the bed, her wide eyes brimming with terror. She's not in control of this.

Natasha doesn't hesitate. She swiftly navigates through the frantic crowd, her focus locked on the little girl at the centre of it all. She crouches down beside her, her voice low and steady.

"It's alright," she murmurs, her words attempting to be soothing. "Just take a deep breath. You're safe here, I promise. No one will hurt you."

"They were hurting me." The girl whispers, her trembling subsiding a little. It's a fragile moment of trust, and Natasha doesn't take it lightly.

In one fluid motion, Natasha scoops the girl into her arms, cradling her protectively. She shoots a brief glance towards Maria and then she strides away from the chaotic scene, navigating through the maze of sterile corridors until she finds a quiet corner, tucked away from the commotion. Here, she sets the girl down gently, having nowhere to put her but the floor.

They sit in silence for a moment, the tension slowly ebbing away. The corridor they sit within echoes the young girl's sobs, mirroring the pain and fear that have become all too familiar to Natasha. The girl curls in on herself once more, a small, fragile figure on the cold, floor. Feeling powerless, Natasha just sits beside her, giving her some space to breathe.

After a few minutes, Natasha cautiously extends a hand towards the girl who flinches away, her body still poised to flight. Natasha doesn't push, instead, waits for the girl to speak first.

"I'm sorry." The girl eventually says, her voice barely a whisper, as if fearing the weight of her own words. Natasha leans in a little closer, understanding how she must be feeling.

"Sorry?" Natasha says, gently moving some matted pieces of hair from the girl's eyes, thankful she doesn't move away. "Sorry for what?"

The girl shifts uncomfortably, her gaze fixated on the floor. It takes a moment, but then the words tumble out, a fragile confession of her power. "When I feel things, I make stuff happen," she admits, her vulnerability stark. "I didn't mean to... but they just... happen." Natasha's heart swells. While she may not know this power, she knows this pain, this fear - even when it's not her own.

"It's okay," she murmurs. "I know someone a lot like you. There was a time she had a problem controlling her powers." The girl looks up, her eyes wide and teary.

"Really?" The Widow nods. "How did she learn to control them?" Natasha reaches out, her touch feather-light, a silent offer of comfort. She wants the girl to know she's safe, and that she's not alone anymore.

"She got the right training and she was with people who cared about her. Who cares about you?" The girl shrugs. "Who looked after you before we found you?"

"I was with people, they made me do things.""Do things?" The girl nods, bowing her head in shame. "Did they make you crash buildings?" The girl nods again, more tears starting to pour from her eyes.

"Hey, now you listen to me." Natasha carefully lifts the girl's chin until their eyes meet. "None of that was your fault okay? They should never have used you like that, you're not the bad one, they are."

As Natasha's arms wrap around her, the girl hesitates for a moment, then slowly leans into the embrace. It's a fragile, delicate moment, but one the girl has longed for. She clings to Natasha, seeming to trust her.

In the quiet of the room, cradled in Natasha's arms, the girl's sobs gradually subside. The weight of her confession lifts, replaced by a sense of security she's never known. Slowly, the girl drifts into a peaceful sleep, exhaustion finally claiming her.

As Natasha holds her, a swell of protectiveness washes over her. While they're not the same, she understands, better than anyone ever could.

"I got you Sparky, I got you."