natasha romanoff oneshots

de aged nat last part

 Days passed since Natasha had returned to her adult self, but the memory of the small, innocent version of her lingered with the team. It was surreal—seeing their friend, who was usually so stoic and composed, transformed into a sweet, giggling child. Natasha, on the other hand, had taken the news of her temporary transformation in stride. She was quiet about it, but the team could tell that it had affected her deeply.

One evening, Natasha found herself alone in the common room, the soft hum of the city outside filling the silence. She sat on the couch, her legs tucked beneath her, a cup of tea cradled in her hands. She stared at the large screen in front of her, but her mind was elsewhere, replaying the snippets of memories from her time as a child.

She remembered the warmth, the laughter, the trust she had felt with the team. It was a stark contrast to the cold, disciplined environment of the Red Room. She had been vulnerable, yes, but also happy in a way she hadn't been since she was very young. A part of her longed for that simplicity, that pure joy she had experienced.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn't notice Wanda approaching until the other woman spoke.

"Hey, Nat," Wanda said softly, sitting down beside her. "You doing okay?"

Natasha glanced at her, offering a small smile. "Yeah, just... thinking."

Wanda studied her friend for a moment, sensing the turmoil beneath the calm exterior. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Natasha hesitated, then sighed, setting her cup down on the table. "It's strange," she admitted, her voice quiet. "I don't remember everything, but what I do remember... it's like I was a different person. A better person."

Wanda frowned slightly. "What do you mean, a better person?"

"I mean... that little girl was so pure, so untainted by everything that happened afterward," Natasha explained, her voice laced with a mixture of sadness and longing. "She was kind, trusting, and happy. I haven't felt like that in a long time."

Wanda reached out, placing a comforting hand on Natasha's arm. "Nat, that little girl is still a part of you. Just because you've been through a lot doesn't mean you're not still capable of kindness and happiness. You've just... learned to protect yourself, to survive."

Natasha looked down at her hands, her expression conflicted. "But what if... what if that version of me was the real me? The person I was supposed to be before the Red Room got to me?"

Wanda's heart ached at the vulnerability in Natasha's voice. She knew how much Natasha had suffered, how much of herself she had lost in the process of becoming the Black Widow.

"Nat," Wanda said gently, "you are who you are because of everything you've been through. Yes, the Red Room changed you, but you're still that little girl deep down. We all saw it. You haven't lost her; she's just been buried under everything else."

Natasha's eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she looked at Wanda. "Do you really think so?"

"I know so," Wanda replied firmly, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze. "And you're not alone. You have us—your family—to help you remember that, to help you heal."

Natasha took a deep breath, letting Wanda's words sink in. It was hard for her to accept that she could still be that innocent, loving child after everything she had done, everything she had been through. But she trusted Wanda, and if Wanda believed it, maybe there was some truth to it.

"Thank you, Wanda," Natasha said softly, her voice filled with gratitude. "For everything."

"Anytime," Wanda replied with a warm smile. "You don't have to go through this alone."