You laid on your back in front of her while she sat on the other side of the glass, reading your book with a few sniffles heard now and then. You hated when she cried.
"It helps, I promise," You told her, "Please don't be sad."
"It's not that, not entirely, anyway," She chuckled wetly, "It's that...you kept this too," Your lips twitched with a near smile as she paused before, "And in a way, it worked."
You furrowed your eyebrows, "What worked?"
"I wrote on the inside cover, hoping if you were lost, you'd come back to me. And you did."
You had a confused frown on your face, thinking back on the inscription, "You meant the book."
"No, I meant you, silly." She insisted and you felt something flutter in your chest.
You fiddled with your fingers in front of you on your middle, looking down at your hands when you mumbled, "I want to hug you again. I miss you."
"I miss you too," She immediately whispered back, "And soon. I promise."
You took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, "Okay. You promise."
Your heavy eyes got the better of you as she started the book again after a long moment and you let yourself drift off to sleep, knowing she was watching you. She was on the other side, but if something went wrong, she'd take care of you – protect you in your vulnerable moment where you can't control your own actions.
In all your life, you've never had someone to lean on and most of the time that was exhausting and lonely beyond belief, only having yourself to count on, but whenever something happened like when you lost Sam or even the two little girls who were your friends, you remembered why you didn't like to keep people close. Because when they're ripped away from you, it hurts of a pain so unbelievable you have trouble describing it. Like this gaping hole in your heart would never be filled again and you'd just walk around feeling like an empty shell without them. Once you stopped hyperventilating and sobbing in ways that physically hurt all over.
And like you've mentioned a thousand times before, hope isn't something you like to hold close to your chest. It's another thing you like to stay far away from as much as you can because if it's false hope or it comes crumbling down, you can't breathe. It suffocates you.
But everyone has their weak moments. Especially those who've been lost all their lives, floating by without a true purpose, and have only truly known pain. You can beat a person down, but as long as they're breathing, they're capable of getting back up. You were taught that twice. In very, very different ways.
You weren't sure if you deserved it, but you were having a weak moment when you saw Natasha for the first time in decades in that kitchen. And you're having one now as you put all your faith into the redhead who you always wanted to take care of when you were a kid, even if she was older and stronger than you. Faith in the one person you had wished you could've run away with when she fled. Even if it meant you'd eventually take a bullet.
The hole in your heart was slowly being filled by Natasha's presence.
"Alright everybody, show's over."
You didn't know how long you were out, and you instantly noticed Natasha wasn't sitting behind the glass anymore, but you could only be upset about that for a moment when your eyes trailed up to where the voice came from, finding the redhead standing next to the man with the sharp beard who had spoken.
The techs filed out of the room when Natasha gave them a stiff nod with narrowed eyes, silently telling them to obey and warning them of what would happen if they didn't. You sat up, criss cross like she had been doing before, and you tilted your head with a deeper frown when you noticed she had changed her clothes.
