Natasha has panic attacks.
And as everyone knows, the nights are always the worst.
Uncommon as they are, they still linger in the back of her mind no matter where she goes, what she does. She remembers Tony making a sarcastic remark that it was bound to happen; considering their poor choice of job occupations.
She never expected him to be right.
Natasha is much too strong to ask for assistance. But on some days, she still wishes Bucky remembered the times when they would confide in each other, sharing the single bed in his assigned cell.
Now she has no one.
It's dark in her room. Cold air blasts from the air conditioning vents, but still she feels the sweat across her skin.
Eager to escape from the suffocating heat of her sheets, Natasha pulls a thin sweater over her nightshirt, and fills a cup with water in the kitchen. It's cold, and makes her throat numb.
"JARVIS?"
"Yes, Ms. Romanoff, what do you require?"
She doesn't know.
"Would you like me to alert Mr. Barnes?"
No.
"No."
Natasha abandons the mug, wrapping the bathrobe around her waist. Her feet find their way into the designer slippers Tony insisted that she keep, and she shuffles her way to the balcony.
Faint sirens and cars screeching sound in the distance, but are all overpowered by the wind. She still believes it's pointless to put a balcony this high up.
She begins mumbling under her breath, words and syllables forming a lullaby taught to all in the Red Room, speaking of a young ballerina who ventured out into a snowstorm. Frozen for days, it was a miracle she was found. When revived, it was discovered she had power over the winter.
"I remember that song."
Natasha turns, seeing Bucky leaning against the rail.
"No, I didn't mean to make you stop. Y-you have a nice voice."
He looks alarmed; like he said the wrong thing, and she has to tell herself to look reassuring.
Natasha begins again.
The song restarts twice before he joins in. Between the gusts of wind, she can faintly hear the song change pitch under the influence of his lips.
His voice still gives her goosebumps.
She sleeps well that night, the story of the snow princess still whispered in her ear.
Maybe she is not alone.
