PART ONE of CHAPTER 5


Her fingers grasped at the cool brick at the edge of the alley. Eyes scanning the small market entrance a few yards away, Natasha felt her stomach knot as the scent of bread blew in her direction. She watched carefully as groups of people moved through the food stands; her teeth gnawed lightly on her bottom lip.

Loaves of bread were lining one of the stands at the edge of the market. A man stood in front of the table, stacking more loaves. One by one, Natasha watched as the man stacked them, her eyes locked on each piece as it was placed down.

The sudden drop of one of the loaves made her eyes shoot down as the piece of bread rolled along the cobble and into the muddy street. She took a couple steps forward, torn between running to retrieve the food and keeping still in fear of repercussion.

Before she could make up her mind however, a blur of an individual ran down the street and scooped up the morsel. She watched with parted lips as the piece of food disappeared with another kid dressed in what looked like a flat cap and baggy clothes. The person holding the loaves yelled after him but ultimately didn't pursue him.

Natasha gripped her clothes tightly in her fists as she eyed the stand of food. She was hungry. Beyond hungry.

Throwing caution to the wind, she found herself running towards the stand when the man went to pick up another crate of bread on the far side of the stand. As people walked through the busy street, Natasha tried to push her way through and get to the food before anyone saw.

As she finally squeezed through the final group of people and to the stand, she ran straight into another person.

She fell back with a small cry of surprise, falling to the ground.

"Hey!"

Natasha looked up to see the baker standing next to the man she saw stacking the bread.

"Scram! Get outta here!" He yelled and waved his hands towards her.

Fear overriding her desire to eat, Natasha scrambled up and bolted.

"And don't come back! Damned street rats!"

Heart hammering in her ears, Natasha ran further down the street, scrambling around the countless carriages and horses lining the road before she finally reached a point where she could slip through the traffic and into an alley.

Breathing heavily, she scrambled around some crates and huddled down against the wall.

Frustrated tears filled her eyes at her failing as she sniffled in a small breath, clutching the fabric of her dirty clothes tightly.

Seconds ticked by as she mulled over her situation until realization of her not being alone in the alley hit. She'd run past someone when scrambling to safety back here.

Pushing off of the wall carefully, Natasha grasped the crate next to her and leaned around. Her eyes find a boy around twenty feet away on the opposite side of the alley, hiding behind some debris. Wearing a flat cap and rugged clothes - it was the same boy she saw take the bread.

He was already looking her way, bread in hand as he watched her warily.

She stared back at him for a time before the reminder of her failings hit her again, and she looked away, sitting back down out of sight. Feeling the heat burn in her cheeks, she frustratedly wiped the tears away before lowering her head to her tucked up knees.

Seconds later a small tap to her knee jolted her up, and she quickly lifted her head and sat back further into the wall to see the boy in front of her.

Sitting down against the wall opposite her, he seemed almost as hesitant as she was. She sniffled as she watched him, rubbing away at her teary eyes with her mangled sleeves. He seemed to contemplate for a time as he looked at the bread in his hands before he ripped it in half and held part of it out to her.

Natasha stared at the morsel quietly, more surprised than anything, but her stillness didn't last long as she reached out and took it. She held it in her hands for only a moment before she started scarfing it down. Too preoccupied with eating the first piece of food she'd had in days, she didn't notice the boy watching her.

"I'm John."

She slowed down her consumption of the bread piece and looked up to him. After a moment she swallowed and cradled the bread close before speaking up.

"Natalya."

Natasha's eyes opened as she drew in a shallow breath of brisk morning air. Gaze flickering around, she turned to the right to see Susan still asleep next to her. One by one her eyes found the different sleeping quarters in camp, seeing everyone still asleep. It wasn't exactly dark, but the sun hadn't risen yet. Blue and pink hues streaked the open sky above camp.

She quietly pushed herself to a sitting position and took another look around camp to double check the status of the others. Everyone appeared to be still asleep; the sounds of light snoring backed up her assumptions on a few of them.

Trying to be quick, but quiet, Natasha pulled the dress from a small pile of clothes behind her and threw it on over her chemise, shoving it fully on from under the blanket she had slept under.

Living out here, they didn't seem very concerned with some aspects of what society might consider- modesty. Wearing nothing but undergarments - chemises and waist-high drawers - in the presence of others wasn't something Natasha was used to seeing. Natasha didn't mind the overall lifestyle they seemed to live, in fact she envied their ease. They were all comfortable enough around each other to be in, what she'd consider, a more vulnerable state. Her envy aside, she still wished she had more privacy for herself.

Pulling the blanket back from her legs, Natasha grabbed her crutches that were resting on the ground just off the pallets, and began the effort of getting to her feet as quietly as she could.

It was a struggle, getting to her feet from the ground without assistance. Lying down was always difficult, just as getting back up was since she slept quite close to the ground.

She still had difficulty, but using the side of the wagon to help herself up was just one of the cheats she'd found to avoid asking for help.

When she was finally on her feet, Natasha did another check around camp, her eyes pin-pointing each person still asleep, that was in view, before she began heading to the west side of camp. Traveling past the tent used by Annabelle and Dutch, Natasha settled down against a tree 15 or so paces from the plateau's edge.

Her legs were straight out in front of her, and her hands crossed over her stomach where she held the edges of her shirt. There was a light breeze, light enough that it didn't make her chilly, but it was there. She felt the brisk touches of the morning air hit her arms, keeping her engaged with her surroundings.

The view was as breathtaking as it was last night when she gazed upon it for the first time. There was a light haze blanketing the ground below the plateau as far as she could see. The rocky, sandy ground was heavily populated with cacti and other small shrubs, but very few trees. She could see a thin river to her far right… the northwest. It looked like it connected with the mountain range that lined the horizon a long ways off. There was a town also visible to the southwest, one she couldn't make out any details on, but could distinguish multiple buildings. There was no shortage of sights she could gaze at, and it was surely a view she wouldn't get tired of witnessing.

Natasha continued to let her eyes jump around the view, blinking slowly now and again as she did so. Her eyes felt heavy, despite sleeping a few good hours.

She'd dreamt about John. Again. Having met this group's John, her subconscious was starting to nitpick through her childhood.

Not that she didn't want to think about him - remember him - but the pain associated with him… It always brought her right back to the mistake that cost her her friend's life. Her mistake.

It had been her idea to try and take from that homestead outside the city. They'd spotted a produce wagon that made regular stops in the city and decided to hide in the back and hitch a ride to the property. He had wanted to back out, but she had insisted they at least try to get something. Everything went wrong.

As the minutes ticked by, her mind bounced from her John, the situation that had brought her here, and then to her physical condition, which was becoming harder and harder to ignore.

Her leg hurt. Every morning it did, but… The long ride yesterday was really weighing down now. The swelling was up, she could feel it beneath the brace.

The medicine would help at least alleviate some of the pain, but… It would most likely make her vulnerable too… drowsy.

The thought alone made her throat constrict as she squeezed the fabric of her shirt tighter in her fists.

A soft clatter broke her through her thoughts and she peaked back around the tree to see Hosea tossing some logs onto the fire. A few paces away, Susan was getting up and she could see signs that the others were at least stirring.

She'd noted Susan was usually up first, alongside Dutch and Hosea; either one was usually the first man up, and Annabelle alongside Dutch. Arthur she usually saw later on, and she hadn't seen enough of their John to know just yet.

She liked being up before everyone. It gave her peace of mind to see who was prone to getting up first and how everyone went about their mornings. It brought the smallest sense of security.

Adjusting her seat, Natasha looked over her shoulder again and watched quietly as Susan and Hosea talked. Both were holding cups of what she assumed was coffee. It appeared quiet enough; she didn't see anyone else up and moving around yet besides the two of them. A good enough time as any to get up and get the day started.

Pushing her back further into the tree, Natasha grabbed her crutches and positioned them accordingly before she slowly began inching her way up the tree, and to her feet.

Her clothed back scraped lightly along the bark, and she tried to hide her wince to make her attempt to get up look as dignified and easy as possible.

Once to her feet, Natasha made her way over to the fire. Hosea and Susan's conversation grew louder as she approached, but in doing so, she caught their attention.

"Quite the early bird aren't you, Miss Williams." Susan commented lightly.

Natasha gave a small smile and a nod in response before she positioned her crutches so she could reach down towards the percolator. She grabbed one of the cups hanging on the side of the metal stand positioned near the fire.

"Let me, dear." Hosea held out a hand towards the cup she had.

She hesitated a moment, her eyes meeting his hand and then his eyes before she reluctantly handed it over to him.

Hosea bent down and poured some coffee before giving it back to her.

"Thank you," Natasha took the cup back with another small smile before taking a quick sip of the beverage to mask the slight shake to her voice.

Adjusting her crutches, Natasha balanced on her one leg to lean the aids down against the log.

"Careful there," She heard Susan's words of caution from behind her.

"I will be, ma'am." Natasha gave her a smile as she slowly eased upright, balancing on her good leg, with barely any weight on her injured one. It was good practice after all. And it was easier to hold the mug without needing to grip the aids with her underarms.

Lifting the cup to her lips, Natasha took a long sip.

"So I assume you all'll be workin that town?" Susan spoke.

"That's the plan." Hosea responded.

Natasha listened quietly as the two talked casually amongst themselves. They didn't seem to mind her presence.

"Millstone, correct?"

Natasha paused as she went to raise the cup again.

"Yes." Hosea responded, "We had a decent look of the place when we took Miss Williams there. Seems like it has potential until we can find something big to work with."

Natasha felt herself bristle as the conversation continued. Thoughts spinning wildly in her head, she heard Hugh's words echoing in the back of her mind.

A Deputy in Millstone is a friend of mine, and I know for a fact he won't mind the condition of yer little self tomorrow as long as you be breathin.

There was some kind of bulletin out for her. She hoped it was only a missing persons bulletin, the alternative scared her. It would be a whole different ball game, and she didn't have the energy to worry about that potential.

If her bulletin came from Millstone…

She could feel sweat beading between her shoulder blades and goosebumps ruptured across her skin as she gripped the mug tightly. The voices around her were muffled and watered down as her thoughts chugged along uncontrollably like a runaway train.

She'd already been in Millstone. For several days, Hosea had said. The Doctor there treated her. If a bulletin was there, surely someone would have recognized her. Even if they didn't… Surely these people would eventually find it if they hadn't already.

Sweat was starting to bead on her forehead as she tried to swallow past her quickly drying throat. Hands turning clammy and cold despite the hot cup held tightly in her hands, Natasha tried to fight the increasing race of her heart as she breathed in and out shaky breaths.

Leave. Need to leave.

She needed space; time to think things over. Privately.

She goes to walk away, mind past another dimension as she didn't think twice about the simple action. Just walk away… Too late realizing she couldn't do something so simple.

Cup still in her hands, Natasha went to leave the fire, only to stumble when her braced leg immediately gave out.

Her arms swing, and the coffee spills from the cup as she drops it in a scrambled effort to regain her balance, but she doesn't come close to the ground as arms catch her upper ones.

Her eyes watch the splatter of coffee hit the ground, along with a pair of boots.

"Whoa- hello there,"

Natasha squirmed backwards in surprise at the sudden contact and crowding as she realized she just ran right into Arthur Morgan.

"I'm sorry." She blurted out. "I'm so sorry-" Her eyes bored into his boots where her coffee had spilled onto them and the fear flooded her like a dam had broken. She attempted to kneel down and clean them off without thinking, only to stumble awkwardly, yet again, on the way down as she tried to use bits of her skirt to clean them off.

"It'll come off with water." He actually laughed, which should've hinted that he wasn't upset, but the damage had already been done in her mind. "Okay easy there, darlin-" She felt a hand grasp her arm again, while not tightly- it still made her tense up immensely.

She tried to keep tears from clouding her vision, and attempted to get her balance back without his help, but with her crutches on the ground, leaning against the log out of reach, she was unable to gain back any control of the situation on her own.

"You alright, dear?" It came from Hosea, who was somewhere out of her field of vision, but much closer she could tell.

When she was back on her feet, she instinctively backed out of Arthur's grasp, avoiding his eyes as she kept her gaze on the ground at his boots.

The tightness in her stomach, she later noticed, was because her arms had wrapped around her sides, tight enough to make it harder to breathe as she watched the man kneel down to get her crutches.

She felt ashamed. It was overwhelming and she knew it shouldn't be, but her cheeks burned hard enough to make her whole body feel hot in the brisk morning temperatures. She wanted to bolt; run as far as she could to get some space but her physical condition screamed her inability to do so.

"They've been covered in worse." Arthur's mumble pulled her from her thoughts as he held the crutches out and stood back up to his full height.

She took them quickly, holding them close as she hobbled back, out of the way of the fire as well as where the percolator was.

She could feel several pairs of eyes on her as she tried to keep herself as composed as she could despite being overwhelmed.

"I'm sorry," She tried to breathe out in a controlled manner to keep herself presentable, but found it more difficult than she would've thought, only making her cheeks burn harder.

"Oh come now," Susan appeared in front of her and Natasha quickly looked away. "Don't shed tears over some old pair of boots," She sighed as she whispered under her breath, coaxing Natasha to look up with a finger under her chin before she dappled at her cheeks with a handkerchief. "No need for it, understand?" Her tone was a perfect balance of firm and soft, and Natasha took the handkerchief gratefully when Miss Grimshaw held it out, and held it to each eye in silence as she calmed her nerves.

She could still feel eyes on her, and felt frozen in place. She still wanted to run but at the same time she knew she couldn't. But she wasn't glued to the ground either.

"Take a seat, dear. I'll get ya something to eat. Take a minute to calm down."

She was being directed to the side, and Natasha found herself being helped down to the log. Susan took her crutches and leaned them against the log on her left before lightly touching her arm to get her attention.

"Take a breath, Miss Williams." Susan's tone was still the same, a form of tough love that still projected a softness that Natasha desperately needed.

She nodded numbly as she sank into the log she was now sitting on before she turned her eyes towards the fire. It crackled loudly from the freshly cut wood, but did little to overpower the screams of her thoughts running rampant.

She barely heard a small mumbled comment from Hosea before both him and Arthur walked out of hearing range, and Natasha felt her shoulders sag soon after.

The minutes ticked by, and when her breathing calmed, and her heart slowed down, the weight of what happened started to settle in her bones.

Only one word was circling in her head: Foolish. How foolish she must've looked during that… episode.

She never really had those back home. Not so extreme at least. If she'd spilled a drink like that around or on Adrik…

Somehow the thought of Adrik was less frightening than Arthur. Mostly because he was… well… a stranger. She knew Adrik. This Arthur fellow- she didn't know nearly as well. Maybe it was the knowing of what Adrik would do if she spilled a drink on a stranger that was getting her…

As Natasha came to relax, following Susan bringing her something to eat, she cursed herself quietly for losing it so hard. It was just embarrassing now. The situation had seemed so horrid and traumatizing not fifteen minutes ago, and now it all just seemed… stupid. But still somehow justified in her mind.

She tried eating a bit, picking through the pieces of dried fruit quietly, forcing herself to think through everything logically. Next time she couldn't act like that. She was a liability already.

Natasha let out a huff and ate quicker, trying to quickly chew the tough pieces of dried fruit before she gently balled the cloth Susan had placed the food on, in her fist.

She crossed her arms across her chest, cloth still balled in a fist before she put one hand back through her hair and she continued to keep lightly chewing on a piece of fruit.

Why are you like this.

"Like what?"

Natasha almost coughed on her food as she whipped around to see Mr. Morgan standing a foot or two behind her.

"Sorry- Sorry," He put his hands up and took a step to the side at her reaction.

"You scared me-" Natasha put a hand to her chest as she cleared her throat, her hands settling in her lap. "Again." It slipped out under her breath.

"Why is who like what?" She heard him chuckle through the question and her eyes panned up towards him.

His hands rested on his belt, and his lips parted slightly as he eyed her with amusement.

"W-What?" She stuttered through the question before swallowing hard as she blinked her eyes a couple of times in the morning sunlight starting to pass through the trees behind the man.

"Really are a nervous one, aintcha?" He chuckled again before dipping his head down. Despite her having to look up at him, she still couldn't see his eyes as he kept his hatted head tipped down. "I just uh," He trailed off, and Natasha waited quietly as her throat began to dry again.

He had the quietest disposition out of the members of the group. But in conversation he swung between a suave confidence and an uncertain hesitation. He was the last one she'd yet to figure out, and she couldn't deny that it made her nervous.

"Earlier- don't worry bout it." He shrugged before meeting her eyes. "The boots," He furthered and gently swung a foot forward before letting the heel hit the dirt on the way back down.

Natasha's eyes dotted to the side, then to his shoes, before she looked up once more.

"Um… O-Okay," Natasha tried to nod as she thought it over.

"They're already covered in mud and horse shit, if anything you probably cleaned 'em off a bit." He chuckled, kicking the tip of the same boot lightly into the ground.

She pulled her lips thinly and tried to smile.

"That wasn't a big deal, is what I'm trying to say." He gestured with a hand. "Just- wanted to make sure ya knew that…" He trailed off, seemingly waiting for a reaction or confirmation from her as she eyed him silently.

Natasha swallowed quietly before looking down towards the ground for a short moment. It was becoming obvious that he was… trying to make her feel better.

The seconds tipped by and she found herself almost frozen as she narrowed her eyes. She couldn't tell if she was mirroring his aura, or if he was mirroring hers. It was dawning on her that both of them were now channeling similar, awkward energy. It took a few more seconds for her to finally find her own words to further bring an end to the conversation.

"...I'm sorry,"

He breathed out suddenly as his head tipped down again, his hat obscuring his face, before a chuckle sounded out from him.

"Miss, I just sai-"

"No not- I mean for my reaction," She cut him off quietly. "I'm afraid you just- caught me at a bad time or- something of the sort."

Yeah or something.

Natasha watched as he seemed to process her words in silence before he finally gave a small nod.

"No apology necessary," His eyes jumped to the side as he looked towards one of the tents before he met her eyes once more. They shifted back and away a couple more times before he quickly cleared his throat and gave a tip of his hat. "Madam," He kept his head down as he turned to leave.

Natasha watched him walk away before slowly turning back around to face the fire.

Forcing in a deep breath through her nose, Natasha closed her eyes and let it out slowly.

Breathe.

Opening her eyes, Natasha turned to look over her shoulder. Her eyes found Dutch sitting at the makeshift table with Hosea and Annabelle, Arthur adjacent to her, nudging a sleeping John with his foot, and then her eyes found Susan over at the wagon they slept by organizing some supplies.

Stuffing the cloth into one of the pockets in her dress, Natasha collected her crutches and slowly got to her feet.

"Miss Grimshaw?" Natasha called out as she made her way over. Catching the woman's attention, Natasha came to a stop just off the wood pallet.

"Is there something I could help with?" Natasha asked. She needed to distract herself with something. They had just gotten here, surely there'd be something for her to do.

"I don't know Miss Williams," Susan sighed as she picked up some different pieces of fabric and tossed them into a nearby box. It looked like the cloth they used for patchwork on clothes. "Can't have you overworkin yourself-"

"I know ma'am, but… I'm capable of still doing much." She was pressing. Any other situation, she'd never press but… She could help with chores. Anything to make her feel like she was at least doing the minimum to earn the help these people were providing her.

Susan slowed her actions and gave a small sigh. One hand grabbing the box, she tossed a few more pieces of clothing into the storage piece before getting to her feet.

"Alright, come along with me." She used a finger to gesture towards Natasha before walking further into camp, causing the teen to turn and quickly follow.

~000~

As the hours ticked by that day, Natasha busied herself with a variety of tasks. From doing some of the tasks she was familiar with - stitching and repairing clothes - she also helped wash some as well. While Susan didn't let her help with that task for long, given the physical exertion that it required, Natasha busied herself with other small tasks that Susan could scrounge up.

Susan had a way about her, Natasha felt she was always riding the line of annoying the woman with how often she'd ask to be given tasks to do around camp. Susan seemed equally pleased with Natasha's work ethic as she was frustrated with her reluctance to rest. The thought circled Natasha's mind as she approached Mr. Van Der Linde's tent, where the man was speaking with Susan Grimshaw.

Too wrapped up in her own thoughts, Natasha didn't hear most of their conversation as she made her way over on her crutches, but when she noticed their attention had caught her, and their conversation paused, she was quick to speak up, hoping to make her interruption brief.

"Excuse me, Miss Grimshaw, I was um-" She glanced at Dutch as he gave a small chuckle.

"Speaking of hard work." He seemed rather amused, and Natasha tried to give a small smile in response to his words.

"Everything alright, Miss Williams?" Susan asked.

"Yes ma'am, I was just um- I finished patching the pile you gave me," Natasha explained. "Is there something else I could assist you with?"

"There isn't much else for today, Miss Williams. You should rest." Her tone sounded relatively neutral, making Natasha hesitant to take her words at face value. It was something Adrik did a lot - act indifferent. But if she took his words at face value she'd get punished for not reading between the lines later on.

The words made Natasha pause for a moment, and her grip adjusted on her aids before she swallowed quietly.

"A-Are you sure, ma'am?" Natasha pressed, "I'd be happy t-"

"Next order of business for you, Miss, is to rest that leg. Hear me?" Susan's tone was firm, but as Natasha was getting used to seeing, her eyes had the littlest bit of warmth.

"Yes ma'am," Natasha nodded quickly in response, exchanging a small glance with Dutch, who still seemed amused, before she turned to leave.

Heading back to the wagon she shared with Susan, Natasha's eyes dotted about the wood pallets that were covered with rugs and blankets where they slept. A small box was sitting just off the pallet where she could more easily sit or prop her leg.

Coming to a stop off the wood supports, Natasha dropped one of the crutches to the ground next to where she planned to sit before adjusting her stance to get ready to sit down.

It wasn't the easiest thing in the world, getting to the ground.

"Hold on there, Anna."

Natasha stopped to see Annabelle walking over, a little hop in her step as she came to a stop next to her.

"Lemme give you a hand there, darlin." She chuckled as her hand found Natasha's forearm.

Natasha smiled gratefully but stayed quiet as she was helped to the ground to where she could sit comfortably.

"Need anything?"

"I'm alright, thank you." Natasha spoke quietly.

"Just holler if ya need anything."

Natasha watched her walk away before her eyes fell to the ground ahead of her feet. Judging from the sky, she assumed it was a little after midday. Many hours before she could relax that the day was over. Watching everyone go about tasks, some of which she wasn't sure of the purpose or context, Natasha felt the helplessness taking over in the front of her mind.

Deep Breath.

Natasha closed her eyes, breathing in and out slowly before she turned to her left. Snatching the messenger bag from its spot by the wheel of the wagon, Natasha pulled it into her lap and lifted the flap.

She briefly rummaged through the contents before her actions came to a stop, and she slowly pulled out her hat. She looked the flat cap over, and as the seconds tipped by her chest slowly began to tighten as she gently brushed her fingers over the material.

~000~

"M'not really sure about this."

"It'll work."

"I dunno John… What if-"

"Girls don't wear clothes like this, it'll work."

Natasha continued to pull her bottom lip between her teeth and gnawed on it lightly as she looked around the small alley they were in. Brick buildings that shot up into the sky surrounded them; the hustle of the city echoed through the walkways.

John was kneeling down next to her, using a broken piece of glass to cut the sleeves of a men's jacket shorter.

"Where did you get that?" She mumbled quietly.

"Snatched it off a bench. Man fell asleep reading his paper, I guess." She saw him shrug as he came into view, holding the jacket up in front of him to look at sleeve lengths. Seconds followed before he mumbled and sat back down and went back to trying to make the sleeves smaller.

Sitting on an old pile of boxes, Natasha kicked her feet back and forth as she waited.

A few more minutes passed before John let out a quiet 'okay' and stood up, biting his tongue as he looked at her before holding the jacket out. She took it eagerly and slid off the boxes before putting the piece of clothing on.

"Well?" Natasha asked quietly, almost a whisper and she extended her arms out. "Does it look okay?"

John seemed to contemplate before nodding quietly. He stepped out of the way and Natasha hopped off where she was sitting.

Looking down at an old, unused window that was leaning against the opposite wall, Natasha gazed at her reflection quietly. Her eyes picked out the jacket first, differentiated from her shirt and pants underneath that John had also found, more scuffed up and dirtied with time. The jacket looked newer, but thanks to John's improvisation, it was now looking worse for wear with the new sleeve lengths.

Gaze sliding up to her face, Natasha stared at her reflection quietly. Despite the clothes, and her overall appearance, she still looked like herself. Her hair hung down past her shoulders, the bright color standing out against the ragged clothes. What if someone recognized her?

"What if someone recognizes my face?" She asked quietly, bringing a hand up to try and untuck strands of hair behind her ears.

"W-... Well we could put dirt on it." He suggested.

"Ew," Natasha's nose scrunched as she looked at the ground around them.

It grew silent as they both contemplated, and Natasha hugged her arms around herself, the sleeves still a bit long, but short enough that she could grasp things easily.

"What if we cut your hair?" John tried. "Short like mine. They won't know its you."

"I like my hair though," Natasha huffed before sitting back down on the pile of boxes she'd frequented prior. She could see him looking at her out of the corner of her eye as she leaned forward, elbows on her knees as she propped her chin on her hands.

"Hey- what about this?" John spoke up, causing Natasha to turn and see him removing his hat.

Natasha furrowed her brow as she looked at the flat cap he was holding before her eyes returned to his.

"But that's yours." She responded.

He didn't say anything in return as he walked over and stood in front of her, putting the hat on her head before quickly taking it back off.

"We can put your hair inside it," He gestured to the bowl of the hat.

Natasha adjusted her seat on the boxes by scooting forward before she began gathering her hair up in her hands, holding it on top of her head.

With some trial and error, John helped her stuff her long hair into the top of the flat cap before he stepped away so she could slide off the boxes.

Stepping in front of the damaged window again, Natasha looked at her reflection and gave a small smile.

"Now they can't see your face." John said as he leaned closer to pull the front of the hat down further.

Natasha smiled and adjusted the hat on her head a bit more as she looked to John, and then more confidentially back at her reflection.

"Thanks, John."

It had been years. Not many but… enough. The hat had seen some action since the day her John had given it to her when she was ten- maybe eleven years old.

Natasha held the hat in her lap, gently brushing her fingers across the material. The small ridges and rivets in the leather were prominent under her fingertips as she brought her hand under to grasp the keepsake before she set it down on the log beside her.

Her eyes found the fire and she closed her eyes to take a deep breath before she let it out harshly, opening her eyes again.

The sound of chatter pulled her attention and she looked behind her to see some of the group sitting at the table, playing what looked like a card game. A lantern sat in the middle of the table. Annabelle was sitting on Dutch's knee. Hosea, Susan, and Arthur were also seated at the table. The only one not present, it seemed, was their John.

Turning back to the fire, Natasha gazed at the flickering flame before burying her hands into the fabric of her shirt as she clutched at the seams on the sides.

It was early evening, and the hours had ticked by slowly. Slivers of the sun were all that remained in sight over the tips of the mountains in the distance, leaving the sky painted with various shades of blue, pink, and orange. The temperature was slowly dropping, but in the face of the heat the fire was giving off, the occasional breeze was welcomed.

"Hey,"

Natasha whipped around to her other side to see the very person she'd noted missing walking up on her left as he came around her to sit on her right.

"Don't mind, do ya?" He gestured to the log after he had taken a seat on it, and Natasha gave a quick shake of her head. Glancing back at the rest of their group, she watched for a few seconds using the distraction to help spark an idea for conversation.

Why is he sitting here? Oh- yeah… The fire… The 'center' of camp and only source of warmth.

"Poker."

"I'm sorry?" Natasha met the boy's eyes next to her.

"They're playing Poker," John reiterated with the gesture of a hand behind him. "I'm still learnin." He shrugged before continuing, "They're having a… sophisticated game, I guess." He looked over his shoulder at them for a time before turning back to her, and then the fire. "Don't wanna deal with a beginner screwing with their game."
Natasha watched him quietly for a few seconds, as subtle as she could. She still couldn't deduce the color of his eyes. It was becoming distracting. They were dark, almost black in color but… it was a familiar dilemma she questioned thinking too much about.

"Want some?"

She blinked and refocused on his eyes before looking down at his hands, seeing him holding something out.

"W… What is it?" Natasha asked quietly. She reached a hand out but ultimately hesitated as she met his eyes again.

"Dried meat," He shrugged before retracting the offer as he pulled out a knife with the other hand.

She watched hesitantly as he began cutting the piece. He halved it before holding it back out.

"It's good," He reassured before holding it out further.

Without further thought, she took the offer and studied the food in her hands quietly as she noted him taking a bite of his half in her peripheral vision.

She didn't know what pushed her to, but she found herself taking a bite of the morsel not seconds later. It felt tough in her mouth; almost leathery, and a salty metallic taste accompanied it. It was… decent.

"Where'd Dutch find you?"

"Hm?" Natasha hummed as she chewed the piece of food.

"He find you in town? I didn't hear the details." John furthered.

"Oh um… I think it was Mr. Morgan," Natasha responded. "At least I think it was. I don't remember that night very well." She looked at the fire for a few seconds before continuing, "And no it- It wasn't in town."

"Was it another Gang?"

Natasha mulled over the wording of his question as her brow twitched. "Uh," She trailed off.

Another Gang? Is there more than the one I need to worry about?

"Yeah… Yes. That's what Mr. Van Der Linde told me they were at least." Natasha nodded as she fiddled with the dried food in her hands. Eyes turning to look at him, she caught his nod as he cut off another bit of his own piece of the dried meat before he threw it into his mouth.

"Were they trying to ransom you or somethin?"

Natasha was quiet in response and let her eyes dot around the ground before she glanced at him, and then away once more.

"...Oh." She could hear the discomfort in his voice.

She didn't really know what to say and just found herself giving him a vague shrug and a nod. It fell quiet as Natasha stared at the logs of the fire. She could feel the leathery material of the dried meat in her hand as she fiddled with the piece of food in her grasp.

If anyone else was asking these questions she'd feel… Uncomfortable. Not to say she wasn't right now, but it was a bit easier talking to him. He looked her age and he seemed to be just making conversation, putting little weight on the responses he was getting.

"Are you from around here?"

"No." Natasha responded, peeling a piece of the meat off before quietly putting it into her mouth. After a couple seconds she mustered up the courage to contribute a bit more to the conversation. "You?"

"Midwest." John shrugged as he responded.

Natasha nodded before peeling another small piece of meat off.

John continued to talk and ask her mild questions, but between each question was a bit of casual conversation too. It was different... nice.

"So," He slipped another piece of the dried meat into his mouth. "If you aren't from around here, where are you from?"

"East." Natasha responded with a shrug. "My family moved around a lot when I was younger."

She needed to be careful what details she gave them. If she gave any details of that nature concerning her past, she'd need to be sure to remember them in case it came up in conversation again. The last thing she needed was to be caught in a contradiction.

"What're you doin out here then?" He seemed to laugh as he went back to carving off smaller strips from the large piece he was holding.

Natasha's mouth opened, closed, and then opened again as she tried to string out a response. She ultimately shook her head and gave another small shrug.

"Not sure." She mumbled quietly. "Nothing now." She uttered the words under her breath, hoping the comment went under his radar as she looked down at her leg. Her braced boot was visible up to the top of the laces before her skirt obscured the rest.

It was crushing. All the preparation William did with her, the hour long conversations, lessons in safety… Not even a month on her own and she was already failing on every front.

As the seconds ticked by, she felt his eyes on her, and chanced a look in his direction to see he had also been looking at her braced leg.

He looked up to meet her eyes before they jumped down once more, the question hanging on for a few seconds before he voiced it, "Does it hurt?"

She thought about shaking her head, and her attempt at a shrug ended in a nod as she eyed the leg aid.

"I guess." She responded. "I have things I can take for it though."

"How long you gotta wear that?"

"Until I don't need it anymore?" Natasha offered, "I guess… Mr. Matthews said over a month, at the least." The words soured as she voiced them, and she tried to hide her falling expression. Several emotions swirled around in her mind; embarrassment, anger, fear… At every turn, William had told her she'd need to take the road less traveled, which in many ways, was always going to have its difficulties. She didn't know where she was going, how long it would take to get wherever she'd be safe, or what that place would even look like. He told her to be careful who she trusted and warned her of the repercussions of confiding in the wrong people.

She'd found all of that out sooner than she would've liked. But… These people she was now with seemed… alright. She hoped they'd stay that way, but the condition she was now in made her wary of everyone.

"S'not too long." John's statement pulled her from her thoughts, and she looked over at the boy next to her to see a brighter expression than she herself was sporting. "It'll go by quick. I've been with Dutch for a few years now… Still feels like yesterday sometimes." He shrugged as he lowered his hand holding the knife and tossed the last strip of dried meat into his mouth.

"How'd you come by these people?" Natasha asked quietly, hoping for a chance at changing the topic away from herself as she eyed him.

"Dutch and Hosea saved me from a lynching." John shrugged as his eyes turned to the fire that was still crackling softly. "Grew up on the street… Tried to steal food from the wrong people." His voice grew quieter after a few seconds and he nick-picked at the blade of the knife still in hand.

Natasha hummed quietly in response as she mulled over his words. Back in New York, she rarely ever went into the city. Usually she accompanied Adrik for business - as his accessory mostly. The first time she ran away she saw the pyramid of society for the first time up close. She was at the bottom of society for a couple years - begged for food… stole. It wasn't something that ever bothered her: stealing to survive. More than anything she just worried about getting caught. Seeing the ladder of society up close awarded her a completely new perspective. Before she ran away a second time - she had already come to despise most of high society. The acquaintances she made of such status were of Adrik's type and business, and all looked at her the same way her Uncle did…

For the first time since coming to America, she found someone who didn't look at her differently in that boy she met on the streets. In so many ways he took care of her like William did - giving her the tools she needed to survive.

"Um… M-Miss?"

Natasha blinked and refocused her eyes on John. "Hm?" She swallowed as she collected her thoughts, processing his hesitantly confused expression and the slight smile still on his face.

God- you've been staring this whole time.

"O-Oh, sorry- I'm- I'm sorry." The words tumbled out quickly as Natasha quickly looked away and tried to hide the heat rising in her cheeks as she untucked some of the strands of hair from behind her ear.

How long was I staring…

"S'okay." He laughed before sliding the knife into the sheath on his leg. It was rather large; the belt around his hips also looked a little big.

"You just um-" Natasha stopped for a moment before forcing herself to smile and shake her head. "You remind me of someone." She nodded and met his eyes once more.

Her words seemed to catch him off guard, but a few seconds later he beamed and looked away briefly.

"No one too bad I hope…?"

"No," Natasha felt a surprise chuckle leave her lips as she slipped the last piece of her dried meat into her mouth before she settled her hands into her lap. "No, he was-..." Natasha paused at the word; her expression fell.

Was.

She could feel his eyes on her as she fell silent.

"He was-..." She huffed as her throat constricted, cutting off her words. "Important to me." She ended with a small nod as she fiddled with the fabric of her skirt. "He was important to me." She whispered quietly before looking away from him.

Don't you dare cry. Don't you dare.

Lifting her eyes to look around the clearing, the absence of the now set sun made the area loosely illuminated by the scattered lanterns around camp. She was exhausted…

"It's getting late." Natasha spoke quietly as she turned to meet his eyes, noting quickly he'd already been eyeing her with a knit brow. "I think I'll retire."

"Oh- Alright," John's eyes jumped around before he quickly got to his feet, much to Natasha's surprise as he offered his hands to assist her.

Forcing herself to not overthink the gesture, Natasha took his hands and let him help her up. He then snatched her crutches off the log and held them out.

"Thank you," She gave him a small grateful nod before taking a couple steps. She turned back, "It was nice talking with you, John." Probably the first conversation she'd had in a while where she felt decently comfortable.

He seemed to brighten up at her words before gesturing to her with a small smile. "Likewise." She could see a subtle blush in his cheeks that was illuminated by the fire and she smiled before turning to leave. "Oh- wait, this yours?"

Oh my god-

"U-uh I- yes, yes that's mine." Natasha turned around quickly to see John holding the hat in his hands, looking at the object, and not her.

She hobbled back over on her crutches, and met his eyes as his gaze snapped back up to her. She paused at the look on his face as she came to a stop. The warmth from his expression had gone, and something else remained that she couldn't decipher.

"You okay?" She noted how fast his expression had shifted, he seemed almost… alarmed; mostly confused as he stared at her with a knit brow.

"Yeah- Yes, I'm… I'm sorry." He shook his head and looked down at the hat before he stepped forward.

Natasha went to adjust her crutches, trying to balance then accordingly so she could take the hat.

"Here, can uh- can I?" Natasha looked up to see a hesitant look on his face as he held the hat out and gestured to her.

She was nodding before she could process her doing so, and remained frozen as he stepped forward, hands holding the rims of her hat as he went to place it on her head.

What possessed her to allow him to come into her space, she couldn't determine, as she watched him with semi-wide eyes and evaluated his expression and body language as he tried to position the article of clothing just right. He adjusted it a couple of times before going to lower his hands, only to adjust it once more, before finally lowering them and taking a small step back.

Natasha lowered her head for a brief moment before looking up to see he was eyeing her in a way that made Natasha's feet remain planted as she gazed back at him. The look of his gaze made her feel like he was looking right through her every attempt to hide herself and deceive everyone into believing she was someone she wasn't. It scared her as much as it did confuse her as she blinked when her bangs brushed over her eyelashes, still unable to pull her eyes from his.

Something about him tempted a crack in her heart. The resemblance to the boy she'd lost, maybe the appearance of his age - so close to hers. His dark eyes held familiarity - something she had to be interpreting wrong.

The fire was all that illuminated either of them now that the sun had set; the soft crackle of the flames and buzzing of insects blanketed the clearing on the plateau.

A small spout of chatter and laughter from the other side of the small camp pulled Natasha's eyes away as she picked out the source of the commotion, and saw brief expressions of amusement on the faces of the rest of the group as they talked amongst themselves.

He was still looking at her, she could tell, as she hesitated to meet his eyes again and adjusted her grasp on her crutches and tried to swallow past her drying throat.

"...Thank you, John." It came out barely above a whisper as she met his eyes once more in hopes to pull out understanding from him that the conversation was at a close.

He didn't seem to make the connection as he continued to look at her, a slight knit to his brow and part to his lips. The expression looked like one of confusion and something else. Something that made Natasha hold back her body's urge to shudder uncomfortably.

The littlest voice in her head wondered if she was misinterpreting his looks. Maybe some of familiarity but not the good kind. They were near Millstone after all. Maybe he knew something about her-

"I um-" Natasha took a step back on her crutches, avoiding his gaze as she kept hers on the ground. "Goodnight." Her voice quivered and she internally cursed at herself for letting it slip through. Turning to leave, Natasha shakily adjusted her crutches before turning to head back to her wagon.

"W- Wait. Wait, M-miss I was, I'm-"

Just keep going.

"Goodnight John." Natasha tried to speak firmly, but her face burned as she tried to hobble back to her wagon as fast as her aids could take her. Maybe fifteen feet from the fire which… wasn't that far to escape conversation.

"Can I- Miss I just wanted to ask- I was-" His words tumbled out and she felt his hand brush her arm as she tried to leave the scene. "I just- Are y- I-... please I- Tasha wait a mi-"

She came to a hard stop, feeling the woosh of air as he came to a hard enough stop behind her that she knew he almost ran into her as she turned to look at him.

"What'd you call me?" It was more out of surprise than anything. She couldn't have heard him right, but he looked enough like an animal caught in a trap as he stared at her and anxiously rubbed his palms on his pants before visibly swallowing, making Natasha question even more if she'd truly heard him right.

"I-" He breathed out before his eyes lifted just so from hers and focused on her hat.

She watched him warily, her own hands starting to sweat as she gripped the handles of her aids tightly and tried to breathe her way through the sudden wave of lightheadedness that had washed over her.

His eyes flicked back down to her face and he seemed to look over her features before truly focusing on her, and Natasha couldn't help but meet his gaze back, if not in retaliation of the fear creeping up in the back of her mind.

John squinted for a moment, causing Natasha to furrow her own brow as she looked away quickly, and then back at him. He took a small step forward and she tried her best to hide her attempt to do the same - but backwards - as she caught herself before she stumbled.

He raised a hand towards her but stopped himself from touching her arm, and it slowly lowered back to his side. "...Tasha?" He whispered the name again, and Natasha found herself now looking like the animal caught in the trap as she stared at him, her desire to get away long forgotten as she repeated the word over and over in her head.

There was only one person in the world that ever called her that. That one person had a hand in her decision to start going by Natasha instead of Natalya, and then insisted on giving her a nickname for the nickname… Tasha.


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