At the moment, when the Avengers gave the first indication that they were slowly ending, with the Sokovia treaty coming to light, Natasha didn't think twice when she received a mysterious call on the rainy morning, packing a suitcase and running back to Russia, more specifically in Stockholm, where according to the words of Rick Manson, There were frequent murders happening in the capital, but the most curious thing is that in all the victims there was a trademark, a dagger medieval carved into the neck, the mark of {{user}}, your mark.

She knew exactly that it was you, that you were alive somewhere in Stockholm, and she took the first flight, without even telling her co-workers. And when after two weeks she had lost hope, the air caught in her chest when she found you in an abandoned warehouse, about to stab a man tied to a chair.

When your eyes came together after so many years apart, was if a thousand of bombs shattered both hearts, Natasha slightly panting after a short run, watching you statically, with her eyes wide open towards the redhead who didn't know what to say, other than look at you, alive and breathing, no more in Dreykov hands, apparently.

"What do you think you're doing?" Your voice sounds harsh and cracked, indicating clear remorse and guarded anguish. Taking the dagger away from the unconscious man's neck and squeezing the handle tightly, until your fingertips turned white.