"Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage." ― Lao Tzu
Sat slumped on the medical bed, Natasha's vacant eyes stared listlessly at the floor, in a manner completely estranged from the Widow of before; her verdant orbs lacked the strength and defiance they usually held. Instead they lingered heavily on the shadows of the room, devoid of their usual alertness, sparkle and agility, tormented and haunted by the visions they had seen, the well constructed facade of Natasha Romanoff fracturing painfully so. Cracks within her walls, revealed even within the confines of herself the past had no barriers to prevent its torture. Allowing the medic to tend to her wounds, her eyes continued its aimless stare, allowing her to drown in the suffering of her past, and in turn admonish her from the physical pain she was now consigned to. As the medic prodded her way along Natasha's injuries, the spy did not flinch her mind too far gone into the abyss of what once was to feel anything.
She hears his steady footsteps enter the room, however the weight tugging at her limbs prevents her from even looking up, from even reacting to his presence and she knows she must look out of sorts... but she really doesn't care right now.
His concerned eyes of crystal blue cast their gaze over the wilted figure of by far one of the strongest women he has ever known, her shoulders lax, her posture surrendering to the ordeal of the battle in a way he had never seen happen to her before. Even whilst they were dealing with the collapse of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the emergence of Hydra, she had never looked as broken as she did right now. And by God did it kill him. With a stern yet assuring glance and indicative nod at the medic, who had looked up upon his entrance, he wordlessly ushered her away, allowing her to exit and the door to shut before stepping towards his wounded comrade. Mustering all the energy and strength she possibly could from her fatigued muscles, she looked up at him from underneath her lush lashes, her features and posture screamed dejection, and despite knowing the answer Steve softly asked,
"You okay Nat?" Managing to pull her shoulders back, she forced herself to sit up straight, which also induced a slight grimace to form across her striking features as her muscles and wounds throbbed. In accordance with an exhale of release she muttered back,
"As okay as you can be in this shitty situation." Her response tickled the soldier, provoking a half hearted smile to curve his lips ever so slightly. It fascinated him that no matter her physical or mental condition, she always managed a witty quip or a humorous retort to ease the thick ambience that seemed to cling to them all. With a certain lightness in his voice he replied,
"True." Her gaze then fell back to the floor, her features becoming once more overcome by the shadows of bewilderment and suppressed distress. Crouching before her he tried to muster together the right words to say, but in the aftermath of recent events it had become blatantly clear that the words of Captain America no longer had much effect or much use to this world. A world ravaged by a construct of their own selfish doing, by the realms of technology and artificial intelligence run riot. However before he had found the right words to say, she spoke, her voice flat, disconnected and absent, as if the words she spoke were the echoes of another,
"My vision... I was back there Steve..." Her eyes now flickered to his, grabbing on to him, clinging to the virtue, strength and integrity that was always there, that was always him. Her hands clung desperately to the edge of the bed she occupied, her knuckles a vibrant white from the effort, and without a moment for thought Steve found his own placed on one of hers. His fingers curling around her petite hand, encapsulating it comfortingly in a bid to ease the distress that had consumed her entirely. As he did so he felt the tension in her hand recede slightly, calmed by his touch and grounded by his presence, she continued,
"... I was going through all the procedures again... I could feel ever cut, every slice." His muscles involuntarily tightened at the thought of what she had been through, and the fact she had been subjected to reliving it all over again... he couldn't bear thinking about it. Consumed by the weakness of her confession, of how so easily it had managed to defeat her, to destroy the mask she had constructed so well, her head fell forward. The action caused her wild and rich tresses to curtain around her face, hiding her away from the reality of what had befallen her so brutally. With his other hand Steve reached out towards her, his fingertips brushing the crimson tendrils that had fallen across her face and carefully tucking them behind her ear, before gently cupping her cheek and tilting her chin to encourage her to meet his gaze. His thumb stoked endearingly across her cheekbone, in a manner that exuded benevolence and tenderness, wanting to ease the torment she now felt. Her gaze remained averted from his, a staunch refusal to allow him to see any further the vulnerability and harm inflicted by her ordeal, but he all he saw was the woman he admired, the woman who held a strength that even she did not realise she possessed. He had to remind her, remind her that she possessed an innate and incredibly stubborn ability to fight back against those who belittled her; who misjudged her; who tried to condemn her for her past transgressions. She is so much more than that. Commanding her attention, his voice exhaled softy,
"Hey..." Coaxing her gaze to return to him, once their eyes met he spoke the words he so wanted her to hear, to believe,
"Don't let her get inside your head, you can fight it." Her features remained still, however her head nodded ever so slightly in agreement, it was hesitant but it was there. Her belief, her strength, her will. Relieved that he had managed to get through to her, a rare but ever so adorable lopsided grin etched itself across his lips, in turn inducing the edges of Natasha's lips to curl ever so slightly in response. His smile was an object of pure wonderment for Natasha, she had never before seen a smile that exuded such genuine and pure emotion as his and honestly it was one of the reasons why she frequently joked with the soldier, wishing to incite one of those breathtaking smiles. His hand remained on her cheek, his touch causing her skin to tingle and thrum and in turn induce her heart to pound increasingly so within her chest. With the hand free from his consoling hold, she gently placed it on the star that adorned his chest; her eyes followed her fingers as they traced the outline of the dirtied shape that he famously bore. She thought of all the people he inspired; the people who believed in him so much that they willingly put their lives on the line; the people who wanted to be deserving of him and his innate integrity. She was one of those people now, and she wandered if he would ever know that of her. Moving her gaze back up to his face, her hand remained on his chest, she saw how he too had been watching her fingers outline his illustrious star, before her voice broke through the quiet that had befallen them both, hushed and gentle,
"Steve..." His azure eyes found hers; swimming in the sincerity of her current expression and entranced by her unforgiving beauty he drank her in wholly, as she continued,
"... you have no idea the effect you have on people." Yet again an enchanting smile etched its way across his perfectly handsome features in response to her statement of honesty, one with which she drew forth the strength and righteousness it emanated. Utilising these virtues she reignited the fire within her, the fire that dispelled all her doubts and fears and brought with it the bravery, drive and drive that everyone always associated with her. Leaning forward she placed a soft kiss to his cheek, one with which expressed her appreciation for his presence, for his unwavering belief in her and his will to heal fellow broken souls, souls like hers. Moving off the bed, she stood tall despite the pain that throbbed violently from her wounds; her posture held the confidence and vigour that had forever been at the forefront of the Black Widow, of Natasha Romanoff. As she walked towards the door Steve brought himself to standing, he too felt the ill effects of their most recent battle; however it did not deter the expression of pure admiration that took over his features as he turned towards her. Just before she exited the room she looked towards him, the wicked gleam of wit and cunning had now returned to her captivating emerald eyes, as she quipped,
"Ready to sort this mess?" A smirk of eagerness captivated her, before he replied readily through a similar smile of endearment,
"I thought you'd never ask."