The moment they had arrived at the brunette's apartment, Natasha had been adamant that she check everything out despite Maria assuring her that she had the best possible self-monitored security.

It was in the industrial sector, split level, open floored and furnished moderately. There was no way to be boxed in and there was nowhere for anyone to hide. The entrance was by the kitchen which flowed easily to the dining room, and on to the lounge. The master bedroom was upstairs along with a second bedroom and a bathroom.

Once it had been deemed safe, Maria had then tiredly followed on with, "I need a shower."

"Do you need-"

"Nope," she said, cutting off the end of the assassin's question. She assumed that it would be an inquiry as to whether or not she needed help. Even if she did, there was very little chance that she would admit it purely out of stubborn pride. Maria hated the idea that anyone might see her in a moment of weakness or view her as soft because she couldn't handle the pain.

"You know I am here to help too." Natasha almost failed to hide the exasperation.

"I thought we both agreed that neither of us wanted to be here," Maria said, as she kicked her shoes off and padded towards the stairs. Natasha watched as the other woman's fingers brushed across the top of an old piano that was occupying the wall below the stairs.

"We did," Natasha confirmed. There was a spot just above her brow that crunched in confusion and curiosity.

"Then why are you all of a sudden so willing to fulfil all standard babysitting duties?" Maria looked down on her.

"I'm supposed to protect you from everything," she paused, "and that includes yourself."

Maria scoffed. "You don't need to protect me from anything."

Fifteen minutes later she was scolding herself in the bathroom mirror for not accepting the help, as she surveyed her body more easily.

Bruises were various shades of yellows and greens, purples and blues. There were random patches of gauze covering the raw burns. Her left shoulder was aching. Her face was gaunt and pale, her eyes showed her weariness and fatigue, and she looked nothing like herself. Looking at her reflection, Maria saw a ghost of who she once was.

Through the door came Natasha's voice. She was standing there waiting, like she had been since she arrived at the hospital. "You can't reach the bandages on your back, can you?"

It wasn't a smug question, just a simple one. "I'm fine."

"With your shoulder being sore, I'm betting that you can't reach it as easily as you would like. If you need help, I am here."

It was almost an internal battle. On one hand, her body was now riddled with healing injuries, most of which would probably leave scars. She could not deny that a woman like Natasha Romanov was beautiful, intimidatingly so, and she didn't want herself seen like this. But on the other, there was no way she could actually reach the gauze sitting below her shoulder blade without feeling the burning sensation in her shoulder.

"Fine," Maria said. Her voice went quiet as the door opened and she refused to make eye contact. "Please be quick."

Natasha did as she was asked and left, shutting the door quickly behind her. "If you need me to cover them after your shower, I don't mind."

She had seen Maria's jaw clench the moment she had walked in the door and knew that she wasn't at all glad to accept the help. The embarrassment, anger and weary anxiousness were coming off the brunette in waves. Natasha was surprised and silently amazed that she didn't start crying.

When she let the door snap shut quietly, she wasn't quite sure but Natasha could have sworn she heard a muttered 'Thank you'.

Natasha left the brunette to her shower.

Even without a time frame on how long she was going to be on this protection detail, she could already tell that it was going to be a long one.

And it was only day one.