Natasha had long since made peace with the fact that she would never experience motherhood. The brutal training she endured as a child in the Red Room ensured she would never be able to have children of her own. It was a loss she carried deep in her heart that she rarely let herself dwell on.

Natasha walked through the ruins of the crumbled building, sifting through piles of rubble and debris as part of her routine mission assessment. All seemed clear until her trained ears detected a faint sound carried by the breeze - a muffled cough, followed by a soft whimper of pain.

She honed in on the source, zeroing her focus. That's when she spotted you, a small hand rising feebly from under a fallen support beam. Her breath caught in her chest at the sight of delicate fingers caked in layers of gray dust. Memories long suppressed rose unbidden to the surface - of lost chances and possibilities forever out of reach, due to a childhood not her own choosing.

In an instant, her priorities shifted. "I've got a critically injured civilian here," she said urgently into her comms. "Requesting med evac on my coordinates, now." She hastily cleared rubble aside with careful precision until your small form was uncovered, cuts and bruises marring your skin. But your eyes, when they fluttered open at her touch, shone with resilience and light despite everything.

In that moment, Natasha's protective instincts overrode every barrier she placed between herself and vulnerability. Sweeping you gently into her arms, Natasha was startled by how right it felt, holding another so tenderly. Despite the danger still lurking, her motherly instincts and desire to protect overrode all else. "It's alright now, маленький, you're safe," she soothed in a soft tone, stroking your hair in a way she hadn't known herself capable of.