𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗜𝗥𝗘𝗡 | 𝗡. 𝗥𝗢𝗠𝗔𝗡𝗢𝗙𝗙

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"Not necessarily," Truth had answered. She fought to make sure her anxiety didn't creep into her voice. "This is where Michael and I stayed during our probation period."

Natasha had looked at her.

"You didn't live at the Triskelion?"

Truth had taken a deep breath and shook her head.

"We didn't start working for S.H.I.E.L.D. until we were eighteen. In a way, it was more of a temporary situation—just another way for Fury to keep an eye on us."

While Natasha showered, Truth quickly prepared several sandwiches, throwing them in a plastic Ziploc bag for them to snack on later. Heidi sat nearby, eagerly lapping up whatever scraps Truth threw at her.

"What's this for?"

Truth glanced up and couldn't help the small smile that fought its way onto her lips.

Natasha was dressed in her clothes. She'd picked a loose, gray, long-sleeved shirt that had been one of Truth's favorites when she'd lived here, and the sweats she wore were slightly too long, resting past her ankles. As she came closer, she patted her wet curls dry with a towel.

She looked, overall, better than she had a few minutes ago. Her skin was flushed, no longer suffering from the effects of the cold rain, though shadows still lingered in her eyes. Food and sleep would probably make her feel better, hence the sandwiches, but Truth's main priority at the moment was getting off the grid.

"This," Truth said, sliding the sandwiches away from Natasha as she reached for them, "is for the road. Give me ten minutes, and they're all yours."

"...We're not staying here?"

"Nope." Truth gestured for Heidi to follow her into the hall, and the cat flew past her into the bathroom, excited at the prospects of a bath. "Ten minutes. I'll answer your questions once we're in the car."

But, Natasha spun to block Truth's path, and Truth stopped in front of Natasha's outstretched hand.

"Truth. You need to sleep."

"Natasha—"

"No, I'm serious. At least a few hours, then we can go wherever else—"

"I can't sleep here," Truth admitted, and Natasha went quiet. "I love it here—it holds some of my favorite memories—but I can't sleep here."

For the first time, Natasha fully took in the other woman. Truth looked almost nervous. Her hands fiddled, picking at the material of her leggings, and now that she was forcing her to slow down, it became more apparent that Truth couldn't seem to sit still.

Because, as much as the house was like a second childhood home, it didn't make Truth feel safe.

For her, safe was a very particular term. It meant that she didn't have to look over her shoulder, that she could sleep and cut off her awareness of the world and not have to worry about something happening without her being able to protect herself.