Chasing Ghosts | Natasha Romanoff

Chapter 86: Mother's Daughter

Patiently, Natasha worked her through her episode and stayed on the phone the entire drive over, only disconnecting when she got out of the car. Katya heard her kick off her shoes by the front door and take the stairs two at a time, pushing through the bedroom door not a second later. The brunette was doing a lot better by now, her anxiety down to a manageable level, but Natasha still crawled into bed and hugged her close.

Her whole body deflated into safety, digging her face into Natasha's chest as her hands fisted her shirt tightly. Hands slipped into her hair - lightly scratching at her scalp - and underneath her shirt, caressing her back. Everything smelled like Natasha, the scent infiltrating her senses until she was the only thing Katya was aware of. She was caught in a cage of limbs, a prison that allowed her to breathe instead of suffocated her.

''Thank you,'' she whispered, pushing her tears back. They weren't from panic, but thankfulness. 'Thanks' would never cover what she felt, but she had given up on trying to find other words for it.

Natasha knew better than to continue on the topic, pulling back to give Katya the kindest of smiles. ''Breakfast?'' The thought of food made her want to throw up, but still she nodded and let Natasha make her toast with jam, the only thing she could eat when her stomach was all knotted up with anxiety.

Afterwards, she pulled her most comforting sweater on - the one with the long sleeves she could play with - and let Natasha drive her to the lunch café in the middle of the city. It was noon now, the sun high, but Katya kept shivering. Classical anxiety jitters.

Natasha started to ramble about random stuff as a distraction and Katya didn't stop her, so she kept going until she parked the car down the street from the café. That's when they both fell silent. She had to admit to being nervous herself. But not for her, for Katya. Today's meetup could either mend wounds or rip the scab off and leave it bleeding again.

Through the window, Katya watched the grand terrace of the café. It wasn't too full yet. Maybe a third of the tables had people around them. But the weather was gorgeous, so she had picked outside to sit. It would make her feel less imprisoned, help with the pressure on her chest. Easier to run away when already outside.

Besides, she wanted to do this on neutral grounds, and this cafe had some of the best sandwiches in town.

Her knee bounced up and down, fingers fiddling with each other restlessly. And Natasha let her have her moment, sitting in the driver's seat patiently and unmoving. She was long proud they made it this far, that Katya dared to take this next step. Her wife was never one to sit in a corner and accept the situation, always wanting to push forward and improve.

"I think I'm gonna throw up."

Instantly, Natasha reached over and slipped her hand between those two restless ones. They felt cold, as usual, and didn't move as she squeezed one of them. "Breathe. In through your nose, out your mouth."

Katya finally peeled her eyes away and redirected them to the woman next to her, a bolt of realization shooting through her when she realized Natasha was seeing Antonia too. Sure, from a distance, but her wife possibly had more trouble facing the young girl she almost blew up for selfish reasons. If she was anxious too, she didn't show it.

"Can you just come with me?" she pleaded, although she was the one to say that she needed to do this alone. And those were the words Natasha echoed back to her. Sometimes, it was annoying how perfect she was.

"You need to do this on your own, baby,'' she apologized with a shake of her head. It wasn't always possible to hold Katya's hand, literally and figuratively, no matter how badly she wanted to. Because trust her, those sad and desperate puppy eyes almost pushed her over the edge.