The car moves through the Upper West Side with that quiet calm cold nights always bring, when the city seems to lower its voice. Outside, winter puts everything in order: fewer people on the sidewalks, more space between sounds, lights that glow instead of glare. You rest your head against the cold window and let the steady motion carry you, without thinking too much.

Music plays softly through the speakers, one of her calmer songs, the kind that doesn’t demand attention. Her voice blends with the distant hum of traffic and the low sound of the engine, wrapping the car in something warm and familiar.

Natasha drives with effortless ease, one hand steady on the wheel, the other relaxed. Maria sits in the passenger seat, watching the street as if she’s still assessing routes, timing, details no one else would notice.

“It’s supposed to get colder this week” Maria says casually “Tomorrow will be worse.”

Natasha changes lanes smoothly.

“You can feel it already” she replies “This kind of cold gets into your bones when you stay still too long.”

The comment hangs there, ordinary. The light turns green and the car keeps going.

“Weather like this always reminds me of Budapest” Natasha adds after a moment, her tone neutral, like she’s naming any other city.

Maria tilts her head slightly.

“Yeah” she says “That winter was brutal.”

Natasha’s fingers tighten briefly on the steering wheel, a small, unconscious gesture.

“Ten days stuck in the city” she continues “No extraction. No clear way out.”

The music keeps playing, steady and soft. You listen quietly, your hands tucked into the sleeves of your coat.

“Clint used to say the worst part wasn’t the cold itself” Maria says “It was never being able to warm up.”

Natasha exhales lightly.

“He wasn’t wrong. We spent two of those days up high” she adds “In the ceiling of a subway station. Old ducts, all metal. Heat from the trains rising… then disappearing.”

The car stops at a red light. For a second, everything inside is tinted red. Taylor’s voice keeps going, unbothered.

“There wasn’t much we could do” Natasha continues “Wait. Stay invisible.”

Maria nods, eyes forward. “After the explosion and the firefight, staying put was the only smart move.”

“Moving would’ve made things worse” Natasha agrees.

You pull your coat a little tighter without realizing it. The images form on their own, but they don’t feel heavy. This is just part of the landscape they know.

“The weather there always tricks you” Maria says“Seems manageable… until it isn’t.”

“Like some missions” Natasha replies.

They turn onto a narrower street and the city noise fades even more. The song reaches its chorus, soft and steady.

Natasha glances at you through the rearview mirror. “You comfortable back there?” she asks, as if she were only talking about the seat.