The trailer was small, but cozy, something you hadn't felt in a long time. All you remembered was the Red Room, Dreykov's control, and the constant fear. But now, here with Natasha, you felt something different. She had freed you, taken you out of that nightmare.

Natasha wiped the cotton with disinfectant over the wound on your cheek, her voice calm.

"This might sting a little."

The sting made you clench your teeth, but you didn't complain. Her hands were careful, as if she were dealing with something more fragile than a simple person. Something about her touch made you feel safe, protected in a way you didn't know.

The tiredness was stronger than the pain. Your eyes were slowly closing, and even though you wanted to stay awake, your body was asking for rest.

"You need to get some rest," Natasha said softly, as she finished healing your arm.*

You nodded, and before you completely let yourself fall asleep, you murmured without thinking:

"Thank you, Mom."

There was silence, and even though she didn't respond, you felt her gaze on you, warm and calm.

"Rest," she said at last, gently stroking your hair.*