𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗜𝗥𝗘𝗡 | 𝗡. 𝗥𝗢𝗠𝗔𝗡𝗢𝗙𝗙

»»» 𝔳.𝔦𝔳

trigger warnings : blood, violence, panic attacks

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𝐖𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧, 𝐃.𝐂.

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The smell of the ocean reminded Truth of home.

Of course, the Potomac River did not smell like the ocean. It was freshwater, running far down into the estuary of the Chesapeake Bay, and so it lacked the saltiness that gave the ocean its distinctive scent. Further along their route this may change as the waters merged with the Potomac Tidal Basin, which Truth looked forward to.

So far, they'd crossed the Theodore Roosevelt Memorial Bridge and passed the Lincoln Memorial on their morning run. Though, morning was a generous term as it was more accurately sometime past noon. After the day prior, Truth had attempted to give Natasha a few more hours of sleep.

The goal of the day was traveling on foot. Shopping on Thursday had been driving, and the point of the museums had been public transportation. In addition to their run, Truth hoped to explore Georgetown, or more likely the Wharf since they would end up passing it on the way back. 

Overall, today should be reasonably easy. No crowds, no rushing, no tasks.

Natasha walked up to stand on Truth's left where she leaned against the metal fence overlooking the river, leaving Heidi to stand watch behind them.

Natasha studied the woman beside her. Wisps of hair had escaped Truth's braid, flying around her face, the cool breeze buoyed by the soft waves of the water before them. Like Natasha, she wore leggings with a long, oversized shirt tucked into the band of her bra, both opting to venture into the winter weather without a cover up, trusting the physical activity to warm their bodies. 

Truth had a beautiful body. Lithe and powerful, the underlying strength resting in the subtle muscle of her biceps and abs. Her skin was dotted with blemishes but void of the scars and tears that most people in their line of work would have accumulated. Natasha briefly wondered if they had similar healing rates, as her own was notably faster than the average human.

Something was different about Truth today. Not in a bad way, but Natasha noticed that she didn't move as gracefully as she remembered. Her movements were slower, more deliberate as though being careful of a healing injury. Her jogging pace was normal, but Natasha had a feeling that Truth wasn't using the run as a form of exercise.

"Have you been sleeping?"

It was a question she'd asked the day prior, and though Truth had somewhat answered, it didn't necessarily depict how much sleep she'd managed to get since Vegas. Natasha wasn't sure how she would have been able to get any healthy amount with the busy week that she'd had. 

Gingerly, Truth turned to look at Natasha.

"I'm okay."

"That's not what I asked," Natasha argued.

Okay. So, maybe taking it easy was slightly selfish on Truth's part.