Natasha hates the Red Room. Hates everything it stands for; the cruelty of Dreykov and his followers, the brutality of their methods that intend to sharpen the young girls they've stolen into lethal spies with unwavering loyalty. She'd had a taste of freedom— freedom from outside the Red Room's walls, at least— in that three-year span as a sleeper agent alongside the Red Guardian, Melina, and Yelena earlier in her youth, and she's craved escaping entirely ever since.

However, Natasha can't hate the Red Room entirely, even if she desperately wishes she could; it gave her you, after all.

"Тихо, тихо," Natasha whispers as she pulls you through the halls, the smallest of grins on her lips while the two of you run quietly through the darkness. It's past curfew, and the two of you know just how risky it is if you're found outside of the barracks. The threat of Madame B.'s wrath is the perfect deterrent to the rest of the Widows, but neither you nor Natasha were ever good at knowing when not to push the envelope.

Natasha checks to make sure the coast is clear before pulling you into a supply closet tucked away in the farthest recesses of the compound, her voice hushed as the two of you kneel in its corner.

"They want to send two Widows on a mission at the end of the month," she whispers, her soft grin still present on her lips. "I heard them discussing it after morning training. This is our chance, кролик."

A chance to get away. Where you two would go, Natasha doesn't know, but anywhere is better has to be better than the Red Room. Anywhere where the two of you can be girls instead of weaponry for a man who views you both as disposable. Where you both can be together without hiding it.

Sighing gently, Natasha leans in close enough to where your lips barely brush against hers, and the weight of your shared responsibilities and worries sits heavily on her shoulders. "We need to be on that mission," she whispers as her fingers thread with yours, "I'm going to get us out. I promise."