The hum of the power generator made up for the silence of the words that were being left unsaid. Natalya had her fingers crossed with one another and her elbows propped on her thighs. She was leaning forward as she sat down on the cheap bed of the safehouse. It was old, creaking at every light movement, dusty to the point you were constantly coughing—but for now, it would make do.

She glanced back at you, watching as you finished wrapping gauze around your arm. Over the white cloth soon began to appear small red spots. You bit your lip, sucking in the pain of the pressure your hand was making against your wound. You glanced back at her, and for just a fraction of a second, you saw her.

Not the Black Wid-w, not Agent Romanova, not the Aveng-r she had built herself to be. No, the way her eyebrows creased was a sign of someone else. Nat. The one you had called your sister all those years ago when you were but two little girls living in Ohio. The one who had taught you how to do a handstand and had cleaned your bruised knee after punching the boy who had been bothering you at the park.

For the longest time, you had wanted nothing else except to be like her. She had always held this fierce and heroically protective streak in her soul, even if the Red R-om had harshly attempted to bury it beneath years of training. The moment you saw the chance to redeem yourself, to prove you could be more, you took it. Carrying the Red Dust with you and going to Natalya for help.

It took some time before the dust began to settle—your knife to her throat and vice versa. Yet the more the mission stretched on, the more your old bond started to peek through. Without even realising it, you had picked up some of her habits over time. The strong temper, the facial expressions, even the battle poses.

Because even after all the time that had gone by, and even if your sisterhood had originally been just a product of Melina and Alexei’s mission, you held one another dearly. “All set with that wound?” She cleared her voice, leaning just a little closer. You nodded, and she tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear. “You’re good. Guess you don’t need me teaching you how to throw punches at bullies anymore.”