𝑻𝒓𝒂𝒑𝒅𝒐𝒐𝒓 ✘ 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐀 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐅𝐅

{3²⁵} {WHITEWASHED WALLS}

∆ {3²⁵} {WHITEWASHED WALLS} ∆

NATASHA WAS WORRIED about Roxi. Ever since the battle against Ultron a few weeks ago, the woman had been different. Tony had given them rooms next to each other, on the basis that they had a good relationship, and pretending she couldn't hear Roxi through the walls when she had nightmares was proving difficult. It was rare that she wouldn't hear anything from the room next to hers, and as much as Natasha wanted to help her, she knew that she needed to give Roxi time. She was still blaming herself for not being able to hold on for just a few seconds later, and for Pietro's death.

It had been surprising for all of them. He's only just joined the team, and he'd fought for so long. Now, he was gone. There was no question that Wanda and Roxi dealt with it the worst. While Roxi hadn't known Pietro especially well, he was a life she had been moments away from saving, and if she'd simply used her power more efficiently, he wouldn't be dead. That was what she seemed to believe, anyway. Wanda had clearly been the closest to Pietro, and the only one who might've been able to relate to her situation was Thor; he'd believed that Loki had died a few times over, and the grief that came with it had always changed him.

Natasha stood quietly outside Roxi's room, watching her worriedly through the glass wall that Tony had insisted almost every room in the compound had because he liked the modern style. The dark-haired woman was moving around in the dark in her small kitchen area, making a hot drink that Natasha reflected was likely to be tea. It seemed that her nightmares had been unusually bad that night, because Natasha had heard Roxi let out a whimper - something entirely new. She hadn't been able to tell of it was from fear, pain for something else, but Natasha knew that it wasn't good, and it certainly wasn't healthy. She had managed to convince herself tonight that Roxi needed someone, and that she'd had some time to process what had happened.

The dull kitchen lights that Roxi had put up, possibly for this purpose, illuminated her figure softly, silhouetting her gently against the dark in the rest of the room.  She moved over to the seating area slowly, where Natasha could only just make out her figure, and the redhead waited for her to do something, possibly to bring out the black book she had written in on the Helicarrier years ago. She still wasn't sure what it's purpose was, but she did know that it was important to Roxi. She had wandered in on the woman writing in it a few times over the years, and Roxi had always looked so unordinarily sombre while she wrote that Natasha had thought that it was better to leave the matter alone. Instead of Roxi pulling out the book, however, she didn't make any move to shift from her position, and remained unnervingly still in her seat. It was that, in the end, that inspired Natasha to go in. She had knocked on the glass gently before opening the door and walking in. She deliberately shut it behind her, ignoring the fact that it was two in the morning and no-one else was likely to be up around the compound. The room felt more private this way, a more secure place that would allow the two women to talk.

Roxi didn't seem to have registered Natasha entering, even as the redhead sat down next to her on the fabric couch in the middle of the room. Natasha could just make out the fact that the other woman's hands were shaking, and she was almost certain that if she could see better, she'd be able to make out the way that Roxi clenched her jaw when she was trying to deal with her emotions, or how she had fixed her icy eyes on one spot in the clean, white walls that Tony seemed so fond of while she simultaneously tried to forget whatever she had seen in her nightmares. They were things that had become familiar to Natasha over time, that she'd slowly picked up on as she grew to know the woman next to her. They were also part of the small things that Natasha had grown so fond of while she was with Roxi. The way she would curse in Spanish whenever she got particularly pissed off, her love for tea, her unusual eyes, the small wolf keyring that she fiddled with when she was caught up in her thoughts, the way she wore Natasha's jackets so much. All of it contributed a little to why she felt so strongly for Roxi.