wrong number connection

Chapter 7: The Next Step

The conversation started like any other, but the weight of it felt different this time. Lyndon’s messages had become a constant in Natasha's life over the past few weeks—his pain, his hopes, and his quiet strength now interwoven with her own thoughts. She had listened as he poured out his worries, his frustrations, and the fear of never being able to control the one thing that set him apart from everyone else: his powers.

It had been a few days since the incident at school. He hadn't gone into much detail about the bullies after that, but the quiet in his messages spoke volumes. There were still some scattered updates—his guitar practice, a little about his mom, his attempts to escape into his music when the world felt too heavy. But today, Lyndon had sent something new.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to control it,” his message had said, a hesitant admission that had Natasha's heart aching. “I still don’t fully understand what’s happening when I use my power. The shadows... they’re like part of me, but sometimes it feels like I’m just... losing control of them.”

Natasha sat back in the chair of her small apartment, her fingers pausing over her phone as she read and reread the message. She had her own demons when it came to control. The life she’d lived before becoming Black Widow had taught her how to fight, how to survive, but she hadn’t always known how to harness her skills or manage the power within her—skills that were often used for destruction. She could relate more than she’d like to admit.

“The first step is understanding it,” she typed, her fingers moving quickly over the keys. “Control comes with time, but you need to know your power before you can manage it. Every gift—every ability—comes with its own set of rules. Your power with shadows is no different. It’s part of you, and it can work with you or against you. The trick is learning how it reacts to your emotions, your focus. Shadows don’t have a mind of their own; they follow your lead.”

She thought about her own skills—her own training. Every skill she had, from espionage to combat, was learned through discipline, patience, and practice. But she couldn’t tell Lyndon the whole truth—not yet. There was too much about her own history that she couldn’t share, too much that would make him look at her in a different light.

Instead, she focused on his power—the one thing she could help him with right now.

“Start small,” Natasha continued, “Find a space where you feel safe. Somewhere you can focus without distractions. Then practice controlling your shadows—bring them to your hand, shape them. Don’t try to force it. The more you push, the more you’ll lose control. Relax, focus, and let them bend to your will. It’s like learning any other skill. The key is practice and patience.”

Lyndon’s responses were never immediate, but when they did come, they were like small pieces of a puzzle slowly falling into place. He always had a question, or a doubt, or a moment of clarity in his thoughts. This time, he replied almost instantly:

“I don’t know if I can do it. What if they get worse? What if I lose control and hurt someone?”

Natasha paused, considering her words carefully. She knew the fear he was feeling—fear of losing control of something so powerful, something that could cause harm if not managed properly. She had felt it too, during her own training. She had nearly lost herself to that fear when she was first introduced to the Black Widow program. Fear was a powerful motivator, but it could also paralyze you if you let it.

“That’s why you practice in a safe space,” she typed back, her words deliberate and calm. “You won’t hurt anyone if you’re focused. And if you feel like you’re losing control, stop. Don’t push yourself too hard. But the key is to trust yourself. Your power doesn’t control you. You control it.”

For a long moment, there was no response. Natasha could feel the silence between them like a tangible thing, and her fingers hovered over the keys, wondering if she had said the right thing. She had never been the type to offer comforting words, but for some reason, with Lyndon, it felt natural. Maybe because she saw so much of herself in him—lost, searching, unsure of how to move forward.

Finally, the message popped up.

“I’ll try,” Lyndon said. “I guess... I just don’t want to hurt anyone. I don’t want to be a monster.”

Natasha’s heart tightened at his words. She understood that fear all too well. It was the fear that everyone who had power had to face—the fear of becoming what you hated, of turning the tools you had been given into weapons that destroyed rather than protected.

“You’re not a monster, Lyndon,” she typed back, her thumb hitting the keys with force, “You’re learning. And everyone has to learn how to control their abilities. It’s a process. And you don’t have to do it alone.”

She paused, watching the message send. It wasn’t just the words that mattered—it was the intent behind them. She meant every one of them. Lyndon wasn’t a monster. He was a kid trying to figure out who he was in a world that had a hard time accepting him. But if he could get control of his power, if he could learn to harness it, he could become someone strong—someone who didn’t have to live in fear of his own abilities.

Her phone buzzed again, pulling her out of her thoughts.

“Thanks, Natasha,” Lyndon replied. “You always know what to say. I’ll keep working at it. I’ll try to trust myself more.”

Natasha smiled faintly, her fingers lingering on her phone. It had taken Lyndon a while to trust her with this part of himself—the part of him that was different. But now, it seemed like he was starting to believe in himself, just a little bit more.

“I know you will,” Natasha typed back. “And when you do, you’ll be unstoppable.”

She put her phone down and looked out the window, the quiet night stretching out before her. The mission was still waiting, but for the first time in a while, Natasha found herself thinking about someone else—someone who was learning how to control his own shadows, just as she had learned to control hers. Only, his shadows were literal, and hers were the ones buried deep inside her.

And maybe, just maybe, she thought as she stood up to join the team, she could help him navigate them. She had learned how to live with her darkness. Now it was time to teach him how to embrace his own.