Untangling a Memory

Coping with longing

Natasha woke up and looked around the darkness. She was still only a couple of days out from surgery and sleeping on the couch, so it took a couple of seconds for her to orient herself. This was a required first action when she woke from one of these dreams, these memories- become aware of your surroundings, make sure you are safe, then everything else.

Now that she had her bearings, she sank back into her body. Her breathing was shallow and labored. Her fists had been clamped down, balling the blanket on top of her in tight clump in her palms. Her cheeks were lightly stained with tears.

Natasha pushed her head back into the pillow, staring at the ceiling as she went to take a deep sigh, but was given a shockwave from her still-healing ribs. Deep breaths, which were necessary after such dreams, just couldn't be had right now. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips together in frustration.

Dreams like these felt so tangible, as if she'd never left them, as if they had been earlier that day. And they weren't really dreams, they were memories, revisiting them in their smallest detail. Where in a dream things feel fuzzy and your brain makes sense of things that are haphazardly discovered in real time. These memories were so tactile, their visuals so vivid. Natasha had no idea that her brain had collected so much detailed information at the time to store away.

The most difficult part about the dreams was how they made her heart hurt. Even with the sweet memories in them, there was always a longing for what was, what could have been. And it was all surrounded by such terrible circumstances that would never let it be. The dreams showed her glimpses for a former self that was less badly bruised, not physically, but emotionally and psychologically. She wished she could rescue the girl in the untenable circumstances. But these were memories, not dreams, and she had no ability to effect what happened during them, no opportunity for catharsis.

Natasha opened her eyes again, finally releasing her grip on the blanket and allowing blood to return to her joints. She looked down at the fingers that used to so frequently dislocate and the two in particular that James had reset during the dream. She balled her fist again and then stretched it. She could almost feel his hand still on her skin.

Natasha looked around the room again. Normally, she would get up and distract herself until morning came- go for a run, sit in the garden or with her feet in the pool, stand on the terrace. But these were all things that required working limbs and ribs that didn't cause crushing pain every time she tried to use the muscles around them.

She briefly considered waking Bucky. Revisiting those dreams always left her with longing for him. But after the other day and what he'd said about being her 'friend,' she didn't think she could handle seeing or speaking to him in such a vulnerable state of mind. So, Natasha did the only other thing she could think of.

"Hi. Hold on..." The voice on the other end of the phone was quiet and sleepy. The person rustled as they got out of bed. "Hey. How are you?"

Natasha had the phone set on speaker with low volume and placed it on her chest, so she didn't have to stretch to keep holding it. "Can't sleep."

Steve let out a light chuckle through a yawn. "Yea, I got that. What's goin' on? Bad dreams?"

Natasha nodded as she looked up towards the ceiling.

"Nat, I can't see if you are nodding or have any facial expressions. You've gotta talk to me."

Natasha sighed, silently wincing as she did. "Yea, bad dreams."

"Memories?"

"Yea."

"Want to talk about it?" Steve offered, but he knew the answer.