The Pasts

Chapter 29

Natasha hasn't stopped shaking.

You feel it with every breath she takes, with every unconscious flex of her fingers against your side. She's holding it together, but only barely. The weight of everything of you, of this situation, of the hell they're trapped in is pressing down on her, grinding her to dust.

She's not okay.

And you hate that you can't do anything about it.

The others are still catching their breath, their exhaustion so heavy it feels like it's sinking into the very foundation of the stronghold. No one is speaking now. They don't need to. The silence is full of unspoken things, doubt, fear, exhaustion.

You blink slowly, trying to focus. On her.

Natasha is curled around you like a shield, her arms still locked around your body as if she's afraid to let go. Her lips are pressed into your temple, her breath hot and uneven against your skin.

She's trying to calm herself. And, It's not working.

Her heartbeat is too fast. You swallow, your throat dry and raw, but you manage to rasp out, "Nat."

She stiffens instantly, reacting like a live wire. Her hold tightens, and then gentle hands. They move so softly, brushing sweaty hair from your face, tracing along your jaw like she's checking for more injuries even though she already knows the damage.

"I'm here, baby," she murmurs, but her voice is shaking.

You can hear the cracks in it, the fear she's barely keeping at bay.

You try to reach for her, try to touch her the way she's touching you, to give her something back but you don't even know if your arm moves.

Her breath hitches."Don't," she whispers. "Don't try to move."

You let out a breath. "You're shaking."

She stills. For a moment, nothing.

Then, a quiet, broken chuckle. "Yeah, detka." Her voice is strained, bitter with exhaustion. "I wonder why."

She doesn't look at you.

Instead, she presses another kiss to your temple, lingering, breathing you in like she's trying to memorize the way you feel in her arms. You swallow again, forcing your tongue to work past the dryness, the pain. "You're hurt," you rasp.

Natasha scoffs softly, shaking her head, still refusing to meet your eyes. "I'm fine."

She's lying. She's been lying for what feels like hours. Her body is falling apart, but she won't let herself acknowledge it.

"Nat."

That does it.

Her head finally dips, green eyes locking onto yours, and god. She looks terrible.

Blood smudged along her cheekbones, dark circles beneath her glassy eyes, her lips split and swollen from all the hits she's taken. This is the worst you've ever seen her. And still she tilts forward, resting her forehead against yours, holding you like you're the one keeping her tethered to the earth.

"I should've gotten there sooner," she whispers.

"Stop," you manage, barely above a breath.

"I should've—"

"Natasha."

She clenches her jaw, but she doesn't argue.

Her thumb brushes over your cheek, so careful, so deliberate.

"I'm losing you." There it is. The truth. The words spill out, barely there, fragile. And now that they're in the air, she can't take them back.

You close your eyes.