Author's Note: Okay, you guys were too funny in your reviews with the last chapter. Including one very unflattering idea of something to put up Ross' rump. XD

For Kelly of the midnight dawn, and the spiky iron (that which shall not be named) that she wants shoved up Ross' arse.

Chapter 11:

Natasha wasn't entirely sure what to make of the following two weeks since herself and Tony started their work on what the billionaire had deemed 'The Great Pants Debacle'. Bruce had taken himself back to India about a month prior and though he and Tony frequently chatted back and forth on video calls, she never once made her presence known during the calls, and Tony never gave her away. This was another of those times and although she knew she wasn't quite out of the view of the video call, she didn't bother to hide herself or acknowledge their conversation, she simply continued to review Tony's latest notes.

She barely snuffed her chuckle when Bruce seemed to notice her presence in the background and Tony's immediate comment was, "Oh, about that—I'm cheating on you. I lost my science bro, so... I adopted a science sis. She's surprisingly functional and useful in the lab, even without knives and guns."

She rolled her eyes even though Tony's robot Dum-E was the only one in front of her to see it, then the little robot whirred it's clamp around and she shot it a bemused glare. It was weird to admit she actually enjoyed the strange little contraption wearing a 'dunce' cap, but it wasn't as dumb as Tony led everyone to believe, it was actually pretty brilliant. Her eyes shifted as she watched Dum-E pick up her pen and she tried to school her expression when the robot's clamp sent it careening through the air and it hit the back of Tony's head.

Natasha wasn't successful, because she snickered the moment Tony turned and both herself and Dum-E received berated looks. She was still chuckling, Dum-E's clamp was whirring in circles with what she took as amusement, and Bruce's face actually looked some mix between shocked and entertained on the video screen.

"You need to come back," Tony pleaded as he turned back to Bruce. "She's beginning a coup. My most loyal invention is joining the dark side!" It was probably a horrible moment to be taking a bite of a chocolate chip cookie and she knew it the moment the billionaire heard the soft crunch, "And the dark side has cookies!"

That had been a week ago and now she sat in the theater room and stared down at the ridiculous postcard in her hands. It didn't have anything written on the back besides her name, not even the sender, though she knew who it came from. She flipped it back to look at the front and smirked a little at the image of a more beautiful part of India, all it read going diagonally across was 'wish you were here'. It was hard to decide if that was supposed to be some form of an apology for before he left, or a dorky little joke, or if he actually wanted her to go there.

Natasha imagined it was more likely to be one of the first two rather than the latter but she didn't have a chance to put any further stock into the thought. She shifted her gaze behind her at the sound of footsteps and she watched for several moments until Thor appeared in the doorway. Not who she expected to see.

"Lady Natasha!" Thor boomed with a grin, "How wondrous to see you again!"

It was strange to see the demigod wearing a gray hooded sweatshirt and jeans that fit a little too snugly and she snickered a little before she spoke, "Hello, Thor. Did Jane help you do the shopping?"

"Indeed, she insists that Midguardian clothing is supposed to be this constricting, but I do not understand how you do combat so fluidly in it, Lady Natasha." Thor had his arms outstretched as he studied his own clothing and it was near impossible not to grin at him.

"Well—I typically try not to do my combat in skinny jeans," she informed him with a chuckle, "But you learn to adjust for it when the occasion calls for it."

He seemed to concede to that ideal before he spoke again, "Is that a postcard?" and at her nod he continued his thoughts, "Jane often gets me them when she travels to different places. I rather like the images portrayed on them." Natasha assumed this was his way of saying he wanted to see it and she stood up and handed it to him. It wasn't as though it would give away some vital personal information to him, so she didn't see the harm as he took it daintily in his hands and studied it. "Odd, Jane typically writes me a message on the back, how come yours does not have one?"

She honestly hadn't thought of that when she let Thor see the postcard and she shrugged, "Sometimes words aren't really needed to convey meaning."

"I could not agree more," Thor stated appreciatively before he asked, "So does this card hold a certain meaning?"

That was the question she had basically been asking herself, "I haven't figured it out yet."

There was a strange look over Thor's features and she watched in amusement as he flipped the postcard front to back several times. "How do you know who sent it?" came his perplexed voice. "The sender did not leave their name."

Natasha chuckled as she plucked the postcard from his grasp, "Because I only know one person in India," she answered with a small smile.

"Is that not where Doctor Banner is currently residing?" came Thor's curious question.

"Yes."

Thor's head tilted to the side as he seemed to let that roll through his mind, "I see, well—I have recently learned to make something called the benediction of eggs, are you hungry?"

It took her a beat to translate that in her head, but when she did, she actually released a small laugh at his words. "Eggs Benedict? This I may need to see to believe," she stated as she tucked the postcard into her pocket and followed Thor towards the kitchen. "Jane teach you to cook?"

"Perish the thought," Thor assured her. "Jane's cabinets are filled with potato chips and poptarts."

Natasha grinned at that as she poured herself a glass of water in the kitchen, "These science-y types have no skills in the kitchen, Thor..." she joked.

"I have come to the same conclusion," he agreed as he pulled out a frying pan. "I learned the benediction of eggs from a glorious master of the art of cooking, Martha Stewart, on one of your televisions," and she actually choked on her water for a moment, forced to clear her throat as Thor gave her a gentle pat on the back in an attempt to help, "You should drink that more slowly."

She made no comment as she managed to get the tickle to ease from her throat and she took another sip, though a little more warily this time. "So—you and Jane are managing this whole... intergalactic relationship thing?"

"Indeed, we each have our responsibilities and duties, however, and we are making sure not to shirk in them," he replied and she watched him get to work on cooking. He did seem to know what he was doing, but she supposed if he had any problems she could always help him. "What about you? Are you in a relationship?"

Natasha chuckled at that, "Never saw the point in one."

"Truly?" he questioned as he put two english muffins into the toaster. "I always thought that-"

"That I was with Barton?" It seemed to be the recent trend to bring up lately, after all.

"Not at all, you two have more of a sibling vibe to you."

She smirked at that, "Well, you're the first person to say that."

Thor grinned at her, "What I was going to say, was that I always thought that you were quite the independent warrior, but I had not imagined that meant you had sworn off relationships."

She arched an eyebrow up slightly at that. "I haven't 'sworn off' relationships," she told him with a small sigh. "I just-" and how was she supposed to explain this, or better yet, why did she even feel like she needed to explain it? "I guess I just haven't managed to find an interest for such a thing."

"I understand that," Thor assured her, "I felt much the same before I met Jane, but do not deny yourself the pleasure of another just to forsake a meaningful commitment."

Natasha figured somebody had some mercy, because she managed to stop herself from taking a sip of water just before he said that. It took a moment for her to shove aside her disbelief at his comment before she dared to voice her question, "Did you just tell me to get laid?"

Apparently Thor understood the term 'laid', because as she held out two plates to him, he boomed out a laugh as he put the english muffins onto them, "I suppose that I did, Lady Natasha."

She felt her lips twitching into a grin as he topped each english muffin with the canadian bacon, then the cheese, then the eggs, "Thor—if you tell a woman to get laid, you can pretty much stop putting the title of 'lady' in front of their name." She handed one of the plates to him after he turned off the burner of the oven and she opened the cabinet to pluck out paprika. When she sprinkled it over the top of the egg she could see Thor's strange look and scrunched up nose, so she held it up to him with a smirk, "Martha doesn't have all the secrets," she informed him, and when he nodded, she sprinkled it onto his as well.

"You would prefer I not bestow the title of 'Lady' when we speak?"

Natasha moved over to the table with her plate and water and took a seat. "Just Natasha," she insisted as he sat across from her.

He nodded to that as he took a bite of the food and then he looked up at her with widened eyes, "You were right, that dash of flavor you added to it has made it even more delectable."

She barely managed not to smirk at that as she took a bite of her own. She gave it a few polite seconds after she finished chewing before she bothered to reply, "Well, I just added the seasoning. You did all the work, and it's really good." Not to mention that the last time someone cooked her something it became a charred science experiment in the frying pan. Natasha crinkled her brow slightly when her thoughts returned to Bruce and it took her a moment to notice that Thor was giving her yet another odd look.

"Perhaps you should send a postcard back."

Her eyes blinked a few times in confusion before she realized she was sitting with the english muffin about a centimeter from her mouth, so she took another bite before she returned it to the plate. She ignored his suggestion as she changed the topic, "Are you heading back to Asgard?"

"Not yet," Thor informed her. And did he really eat all that already? His Eggs Benedict appeared to have pulled a Houdini act and she could see him eyeing the other half of hers. She picked up the partially eaten first half of her own and then pushed the plate towards him. "Thank you," he acknowledged as he pulled the plate closer. "I am to stay until the scepter is located, not that I am not enjoying myself on Midguard," he assured her before he took a heaving bite of the food. One bite for him was half the english muffin, and no wonder his had been gone so quickly. "I heard of your attempt to look into it," he brought up next and she kept her face neutral in response. "I am sorry for—"

Natasha ended that quickly, "The mission was a failure, there's nothing else to say."

"I see..."

She didn't bother to presume that she had enough of a relationship with the Asgardian to have offended him with her curt reply, but the air around them did take on and awkward and stuffy silence, so it seemed that she was good for something around the tower besides irradiating Bruce's pants. With her inability to chat about prior experiences that irked her, she had hit an all new expert level at burning bridges between herself and her teammates, present company now included. "I'll clean up," she offered as she took the empty plates and tossed the remnants of the food still in her hand into the trash. She could see Thor about to object to her insistence of cleaning up the mess he had made on the stove top and she shrugged it off, "Thanks for breakfast."

He seemed to take that as his cue to leave as he nodded his head, "Very well. You are welcome, La—Natasha."

She turned her head and gave him the barest of smiles at that before she returned her attention to the sink. She made her best attempts not to twitch when she could hear Jarvis reassure Thor in the hallway that she was like that with everyone and not just him. She released a breath of frustration before she scrubbed it away roughly along with the dishes.

Being gone for a month and a half at least gave Bruce time to put things further into perspective. It wasn't that he didn't want to be Natasha's friend or that he didn't want to trust her, though he had to admit to himself that he didn't, but he also didn't trust himself or the more enraged part of his personality. Her strange faith and connection with The Hulk just put him more at odds with whether or not it would be a good idea to let her work with him. Just because the Big Guy didn't seem prone to smash her to pieces, didn't exactly mean he wouldn't do it inadvertently, much like he already had.

Tedious thoughts like those always seemed to cross his mind when he walked the return trip back from a house call in Bahir, and even more annoying, was the thought of how ridiculous it had been to send the postcard. Bruce hadn't had the niggling voice in his head yet that told him to call, but it did tell him to do something, or anything really. It had been the only thing that seemed to catch his eye when he actually went to the city to restock supplies, so he had bought it, written her name and sent it without a second thought. It was only after that he realized how pathetic it was, and by then, it was far too late.

So when he opened the door to his little shack, he immediately noticed the change in his usual environment, not to mention the unusually pleasant scent that tended to linger with Natasha's presence. It seemed entirely unfair to not only himself, but to her as well, that just the realization she was here made his heart race a little bit faster. When you weren't friends and you didn't entirely trust each other, it seemed like such an absurd reaction to have to someone, though he supposed you didn't need either to feel attraction.

If Bruce had given any indication of the sudden onslaught of unruly thoughts, Natasha seemed keen to ignore them as she sat on the couch with her legs folded beneath her. He placed the bag with his gear down on the table with a tactless plop before he decided to acknowledge her any further, "Well—I guess I can tell Tony you didn't disappear after you hijacked his jet."

The edges of her lips curled into a signature smirk before she gave a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders, "I prefer the term 'liberated'," she corrected and he barely managed not to smile at that. "Besides, I only borrowed it, and Jarvis didn't try to stop me."

"You overrode Jarvis' system," he reminded her and that made her smile a little less impish and a little more real. Natasha actually seemed proud of the achievement. "Should I ask why you're here?" his thoughts finally uttered from his mouth. Her expression turned into a lack of one before she held up his postcard.

Now that was embarrassing.

"A little dorky," she informed him.

Bruce was more than a little certain his face had gained a little color, "I didn't actually mean that you should show up..."

The smile she gave him now bore a little more charm and she was unmercifully impossible to read and understand sometimes, "Oh, I know." Then why...? "But Tony keeps asking you to come back, and you keep telling him no," she answered the unfinished question of his mind.

"Given that I'm the one saying no... I'm pretty sure I'm aware of that," and that came out a little more rude than he meant it to.

"He misses you," she offered up lightly and when he frowned Natasha seemed to decide on a different tactic, "You know, typically when a friend asks you to do something, you step up and do it. You're part of his and Steve's whole 'Avengers are family thing'. You're his family."

Bruce scoffed a little at that, "I'm the part of the family they're embarrassed by."

She rolled her eyes a little in response to that before she released an irritable little laugh, "That's not true, you're only embarrassed by yourself. You ran away," she reminded him. It was annoying that she was right. "We had a bad situation, and you ran away," and he opened his mouth to redefine her term of 'bad situation', but she never gave him the chance, "Don't get me wrong, you had reason, and running is sort of your bread and butter... but hiding out here? Avoiding your problems? Not talking to the person who needs and wants you around?" she gave him a coy smile that annoyed him further, because she was being rather hypocritical.

"This is a little like the pot calling the kettle black," he quipped dryly.

If Natasha was offended, he couldn't find a trace of it on her, not even when she replied, "True, but if you do all that, then how are you ever going to get what you want?"

He shuffled his way to the opposite end of the couch before he sank into it, "So—besides the fact that you seem to think you know what I want," he stated, and this time his comment did seem to vex her a little, "You liberated Tony's jet, to lecture me?"

Her annoyance seemed to shift to mischievous again as she twirled the postcard in her fingertips, "Didn't fit on one of these." It broke the ice, at least, because he actually chuckled a little in response. Or at least it had, until she spoke again with a more neutral tone, "And I can leave the tower, if that would help," she offered. "I make you uncomfortable and...I get that. I'm used to it," she added with the smallest smile. "And at least then I don't have to deal with Stark and Thor," she quipped. "The other morning he made the benediction of eggs..."

He was momentarily too stunned to respond to her offer to leave the tower, "The what?"

Natasha's laugh was tiny but more real than the former ones as she shook her head, "Yeah...he also told me that I needed to get laid."

"Thor wouldn't say that..." he insisted, though to be honest, he wasn't actually sure.

Her eyes actually twinkled a little and it made him think she might not be kidding, "I believe his exact words were that I," she cleared her throat and then her voice took on a heavily accented Asgardian tone that left him in awe, "Should not forsake myself the pleasure of another to forsake a meaningful commitment."

Was she even around Thor long enough to pick up on the way he spoke? Because it did sound an awful lot like him. "Wow he—he really did tell you to get..."

"Well and truly screwed," Natasha finished with a hint of amusement. "Believe me, I was as surprised as you are. He calls me Lady and then tells me to get in a good romp in the sack."

Bruce couldn't help himself, he leaned forward and actually laughed in response to that. It was truly absurd that this woman could infuriate him, annoy him, charm him and humor him all in just one ten minute sitting. The scientist in him found it absolutely mind blowing and curious, something he needed to dissect further and experiment with, and likely to result in never finding an answer to the puzzle that was Natasha Romanoff. He considered her the independent variable, always changing, never staying the same. He would never know what to expect from Natasha and that was intriguing and frustrating.

"Suppose it's not the worst suggestion, probably couldn't hurt any."

As if her comment about his 'dorky' postcard hadn't put color on him before, that pretty much sealed the redness into his cheeks as they burned.

"Of course, some people prefer that it does," she gave no indication she was joking, "Rough can be fun, not my preference, but to each his own."

Hotter.

"Are you that type, Doc?"

"Uh..." and now he was pretty sure he had more color than her hair, so he immediately covered his face with his hands.

There was a sly smile now gracing him with it's presence on her lips and she really did know how to push his buttons, "So, want to come back to the tower? Or should I continue?"

"If you stop, I'll go back..." he agreed with as he shifted uncomfortably.

Then she grinned, "See? Now that's manipulation." Oh boy. He didn't doubt that for a second. "And like I said, I'll leave," her voice had lost it's teasing edge and returned back to it's usual neutrality.

All the embarrassment from just seconds before faded immediately and he relinquished his hands back to his lap before he settled his eyes on her. Natasha, however, now seemed compelled to look at the wall and he felt terrible all over again.

"As attractive as I find your rather morose disposition," came her next offhanded quip, "At least Tony makes you smile, and I prefer that, even if you are rather self-deprecating in your humor with him." Bruce had absolutely no idea how to take that. "So it's alright, because I know I still bother you."

It wasn't alright that she seemed to think that his coming back meant she needed to leave and he finally managed to find his voice again, "You do bother me." His admittance didn't seem to affect her any, but his follow-up seemed to surprise her at least a little, "I'm just beginning to think its in a good way." The surprise disappeared as quickly as it had arrived, though she did seem to be at a loss for words, if the parting and then resealing of her lips was any indication of the sort. "I don't want you to leave, or feel you have to," he finally replied. "You seem better when you're in the tower, too..." he tacked on for good measure. Natasha looked a little uncertain about his comment but coherent thoughts left him for a moment, "Did you say you find my morose disposition attractive?"

And there was that ridiculous little smile again, but she pointedly ignored the question. "Alright, so we'll both stay," she agreed, "But I could use a day or two away, is that alright?"

Bruce frowned a little before he understood, "You want to stay here?"

"If you don't mind, I'm afraid Thor won't stop with the benediction of eggs, and I'm sincerely frightened that he might take a Hush Puppy a bit too literal."

The laugh that escaped him now came out free and easy and he leaned back against the couch. "That's horrible..."

"You're laughing now, but it won't be so funny when Thor is boiling puppies on the stove top." It was impossible to take that seriously, even when her tone and humorless expression gave away nothing to say she was being insincere. Then she smiled softly, "See? This is much better than surly and sad." Then she tapped her index finger on her chin in a more playful manner, "Although... you might want to see a shrink, you're laughing about the murder of adorable and defenseless little puppies."

It was probably worse that her comment only served to induce him into another small fit of laughter, but the careless air shifted to something more uptight when the noises of peoples' yells and screams echoed into his shabby little home. Both of them stood and moved toward the window in reaction to it and watched as people ran to their own homes and away from the mercenaries ravaging through the small town. Natasha didn't seem the least bit perturbed by the scene in front of her and he assumed she had seen enough things like this that it was possible she truly wasn't.

That changed in an instant when one of the men grabbed the wrist of a familiar little girl and her expression changed to one that was almost pure hatred. She shoved the door open within seconds, and before he could even think of what to do with her change in demeanor, so all he could do was follow her outside as she strode purposefully and quickly in the direction of the man. The cry of the little girl and the snap of her wrist seemed to be the end all moment and Bruce watched in sheer disbelief as Natasha came up behind the girl's assailant and slid a knife to his jugular.

She whispered something Bruce couldn't understand, but her tone was laced and dripping with venomous intent and it left little to the imagination. The man released the child in an instant and Bruce moved closer and pulled her away as Natasha took the man's arm, wrenched it back and he heard yet another resounding snap, followed by another.

He understood the words of the other men almost instantly, "Black Widow! Run! Run!" And he knew now that these were the same men who had tried to kill him the first time she had come here. Apparently, Natasha had put the fear of God into them after her first visit, because all of them took off into the jeeps they had arrived in. For a moment he thought she might still slit the throat of the man she was holding, but instead she shoved him away with more hate-filled words that he didn't quite understand. He did, however, understand the man begging for forgiveness as he ran towards a jeep that hadn't yet left him behind.

Bruce turned his attention quickly to the wailing eight-year-old at his feet as he knelt down to take her wrist in his hand.

But she would have none of it, it seemed, and instead she only cried louder.

Natasha's intervention was sudden and unexpected as she came over and sat down in the dirt without hesitation, "Krishna..." came her soft voice, and it was an entirely new soft that he had never thought to associate with her before. He watched as her face contorted with discomfort as the little girl buried her face at her waist and wrapped her one good hand around Natasha. The redhead gave a feeble attempt at comfort as she drew a hesitant arm around the child, and if she hadn't already convinced him to go back to the tower earlier, this would have sealed the deal.

It was yet another unseen side of her and he grimaced as she gave solemn and hushed whispers to Krishna about fixing her broken wrist. He took that as a sign as the mother ran over to sit with them as well, so he left to retrieve a splint. Perfect doctoring with casts wasn't something he could do around these parts, but at least he could do something. By the time he returned with the splint and the tape, Natasha was already in the midst of setting the child's wrist and he winced as the little girl cried harder, but Natasha only seemed mildly disturbed.

Bruce chewed on his lower lip a little before he handed her the splint, because she seemed as privy to the setting of bones as he was. She didn't question it or comment as she went to work in a rather precise manner and that niggling voice in his head was telling him this was something they had both done for themselves as children. It was the only way someone could manage such a stoic expression after seeing what happened and dealing with the aftermath. It left yet another pit in his stomach.

When it was finished, Natasha didn't pry the emotional child off that clung to her, she just sat there awkwardly and allowed it. The sinking pit grew larger as her eyes vacantly searched for a wall. She seemed to have deemed it useless as she finally gave up and locked eyes with him and for once he could see beyond the emptiness she hid in them, buried in an ocean of green, was something that wreaked of torment.

He supposed it took one ruined childhood to recognize the tortured fragments that hid behind hollow eyes, but he could see it now. Tony had been right, they were alike, in more ways than he liked. Natasha had simply numbed herself to it in ways he couldn't fathom being able to, that was the point where they differed. Where he had escaped, she clearly never had.

He was eight, reeling and writhing from the pain that seared up his arm like a wild fire. Misshapen and bent at an awkward angle and he held it uselessly to his chest. Bruce was trying to stay hidden behind the cabinets as his mother and father screamed uselessly back and forth at each other.

Rebecca was in the midst of a rant, no longer making threats of leaving, but actually taking action to do so. His mother was moving towards him to take him with her, but Brian was having none of it. He grabbed her arm and threw her against the wall, hands mercilessly gripped around her throat.

"No!" Bruce tried to pry his father off her with one hand, but it was a failure of biblical proportions as he was sent careening into the counter. His head smacked into the corner and blood trickled pathetically down his forehead.

He was too dazed to move.

Too dazed to do anything more than watch as his father slammed his mother's head repeatedly against the wall.

It left cracks in the paint and the wall, changing the corrupted portion of the wall from blue to wet crimson.

When she fell to the ground her eyes were still open, never blinking, she never moved. His father disappeared out the front door and he crawled hopelessly to her.

"Mom..?"

Shaking her didn't help.

"Mom... wake up."

Asking her to wake up didn't help. The trail of red where she slid down the wall led down to the pool of sticky redness beneath her head.

Crying didn't help either, but he did it anyways as he clung to her.

When he woke, he was still clinging, but it was unsettling to realize it wasn't a pillow. It had the warmth of a body and Bruce realized horrifyingly quickly that it was Natasha, who was perched on the edge of his bed and who currently looked more than a little worried. It wasn't until his eyes met hers that he knew why; in her eyes, he saw the verdant and brilliant shade of glowing green from his own. It only served to make his heart race faster and the grumbling rage in the back of his head to grow louder.

"Bruce..." her voice was like silk as it laced through his mind. "It's alright... you're alright," came the next hushed words. And fingertips now tread softly over his back, "The nightmare is over..." she offered next, her tone still smooth but definitely erring on the side of caution.

His heart rate didn't slow down though, not for a moment, and the fury in the back of his mind was growing and discontent to remain buried. "Go..." and his voice was a mixture of pain and anger, a mix of himself and The Hulk who wanted to be released.

"No," she contested with ease, her voice still no louder than a whisper. And he hated her in this moment. It was more enraging to realize that while she had kicked him out when he tried to help her, she would refuse to do the same in the reverse situation. "Look at me, Bruce," she ordered. He hadn't even realized he had looked away, but when he finally met her eyes again they weren't vacant, or empty, or hollow; her eyes were wide, and understanding, and calming. "It's okay..." she reassured him once more.

There was also a brief flicker of something else that came over her expression, something he couldn't quite read. Not until he realized his hand had a vice grip on her forearm and it took effort to pry himself loose of it, horrified by the angry red marks left behind.

"Relax..." she hushed out next, and then the fingertips moved gently across his back again, leaving little trails that felt like cobwebs along his spine. It was disturbing to realize she was actually helping, that Natasha's soothing voice and comforting hands were enough to ease his racing heart, and his eyes remained locked onto hers as she spoke again, "I'll stay right here, I won't leave." He saw the green glow of his own eyes fade within her own.

He was shaking and reeling from the near loss of control, but Natasha did what she said, she stayed. She edged herself further onto the bed and she never broke contact as she rested herself more comfortably against the headboard.

"I promise," she added next. She had him tucked pathetically at her side with his head resting on her lap. One of her hands remained at his back while the other rested softly on his forehead.

"Keep talking..." he finally managed to tell her, though his voice came out dry and hoarse.

Natasha didn't acknowledge the pain in his voice, but she seemed to accept his request, her voice rang out with ease, talking about nothing important, but never stopping unless she was trying to debate what to say next.

He counted an hour had gone by before everything faded into nothingness again, but at least the nightmares never managed to break the barrier that her voice had left behind.

Well, there we go. About time the comfort went in the opposite direction, eh?