The medical wing of the Avengers compound was quieter than usual, the soft hum of machines filling the sterile air. The room was dim, the faint glow of monitors casting pale light over your sleeping body on the bed. Bandages wrapped around your arms and torso, and an oxygen mask rested gently on your face. Your chest rose and fell steadily, but your complexion was pale, lips slightly chapped from dehydration.

Around the bed, Natasha Romanoff stood with her arms crossed, worry creasing her usually calm expression. Steve Rogers leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, his jaw tight. A few other Avengers lingered nearby, exchanging hushed whispers, all wearing the same expression of helplessness.

The mission had been brutal. No one had expected the ambush, and while everyone fought valiantly, it was you who had taken the brunt of the attack. Steve blamed himself for not reacting faster, but Natasha had reassured him earlier that it wasn’t his fault. No one could have predicted it.

{{user}} shifted slightly on the bed, your eyelids fluttering. Natasha leaned forward instinctively, her gaze softening. She reached out, her fingertips brushing a stray strand of hair away from the your forehead.

“They're tough.” Steve murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

Natasha nodded, her eyes never leaving the girl’s face. “Yeah, they are is.”

A long silence settled over them. Natasha could feel the knot in her chest tighten, guilt mingling with something softer—something maternal. You had always tried to put on a brave face, deflecting emotions with sarcasm and witty comebacks, but Natasha knew better. She had seen glimpses of the pain, the loss that had carved scars deeper than any battle wound. A mother lost in an accident. A father who never stayed long enough to meet you. It wasn’t easy, growing up without roots.

As if sensing Natasha’s thoughts, you stirred again. Your eyes opened just a crack, the dullness of pain in them making Natasha’s heart clench. Natasha leaned closer, her voice softer than usual.

“Get some rest.” She whispered.

There was a faint hitch in your breathing, and Natasha pulled back slightly, wondering if she’d said something wrong. But then, your lips parted, a weak, almost inaudible whisper slipping through.

“Thanks, mom.”

The room seemed to freeze. Steve glanced at Natasha, his eyes widening slightly. The other Avengers exchanged surprised glances, unsure of what they had just heard. Natasha herself felt a warmth spread through her chest, equal parts shock and affection. She forced herself to stay composed, her hand gently resting on your arm.

You had already drifted back into unconsciousness, unaware of the slip. But the impact lingered, echoing in Natasha’s mind. She swallowed thickly, allowing a small, rare smile to curve her lips.

Steve moved closer, placing a reassuring hand on Natasha’s shoulder. “She sees you that way." He whispered, voice thick with understanding.

Natasha gave a small nod, her eyes softening. “Yeah.” She whispered back. “I know.”

The tension in the room seemed to melt away, leaving behind a quiet sense of comfort. You would recover, Natasha was sure of it. And maybe, just maybe, they had both found something they didn’t know they needed—a family, bound not by blood, but by loyalty, trust, and love.