Maria had fallen asleep on the couch after reluctantly letting Natasha re-cover the wounds she couldn't reach, eaten half a grilled cheese sandwich and taken her pills. She had muttered something about the couch being more comfortable than her bed upstairs as she fell asleep.

Half an hour later, Natasha had been familiarising herself with the interior of the apartment when she had heard whimpering from the couch. She had woken Maria up when she started tossing and turning, concerned that she might hurt herself. The brunette had pushed herself into the furthest corner of the couch before realising that it was Natasha who was holding her hands out in a surrendering manner.

"You're okay. You're at home, Hill," she said. It had taken her a few minutes before she had calmed down. "You alright?"

Maria's chest was heaving and she was hugging her left arm to her body. "I'm fine."

Natasha didn't want to push her so she simply retrieved a glass of water and sat it on the side table before returning to her place by the apartment length windows to eye off the street below.

"I can tell what you're thinking," Maria said. Natasha looked at her to see that her eyes were closed and she was focussing on her calming her breathing.

"Oh yeah?" Natasha asked. "And what's that?"

"That I'm weak, or being stupidly pathetic over this." Maria scoffed at herself.

"That's not what I think."

"Yeah right."

"It's not," said Natasha as he sat down on the piano's bench. "I think you're a survivor. You're tough and this is fresh. Survivors have scars too."

There was a moment of silence between them.

"Do you have scars?" Maria asked.

Natasha looked at the broken woman. "Too many to count," she replied honestly. "You just can't see most of mine."

Natasha wasn't used to revealing much of herself; it went against the training she had gone through over the years. But she wasn't KGB anymore so she didn't have to keep absolutely everything to herself.

"You're not alone here, you know that right?" Natasha asked. "You don't have to fear judgment by me if you ask for help."

Maria didn't meet the assassin's eyes but simply nodded instead. "I should get some more sleep."

"Yeah, you should," Natasha agreed. "I'll walk you up."

Short of tucking her in, Natasha simply helped her get settled. She had been listening when Maria had muttered that the bed was too soft. She left the glass of water and the next round of medications. "If you need me, just call out."

"Leave it open!" Maria called.

As much as she tried to hide it, the flash of momentary fear couldn't be stopped from making an appearance as Natasha moved to close the bedroom door on her way out. Most of her time had been spent in isolation, with only her thoughts and growing fears to keep her company. She needed to know that she could escape if she had too.

"Please?"

To Natasha, she almost sounded desperate. "Sure."

"Can you, um," Maria paused, "Can you leave the TV on downstairs? Just for some background noise?"

Natasha nodded, and offered a smile. "Of course."

Maria settled into the pillows and left on the light on the bedside table. It was going to be a long night.