[The muddled confusion and concern suddenly flowing through her, at direct odds with the eager twist of hope and sickening crunch of fear, makes her realize that the connection between them is still open.
If she's getting that from him, what must he be getting from her?
That undercurrent of emotion that runs beneath everything, rushes up to the surface and he'll catch a slam of panic that doesn't show for an instant on her face before she shifts her weight from one hip to the other and oh so incidentally breaks skin contact. Casual.
They told her about the empathy bond. Showed her how it works. But it's nothing she's exactly explored. It happened accidentally in the safehouse a couple of times, until Natasha got better at avoiding it. (Without seeming to avoid it. Her fingers just don't brush accidentally against anyone's while handing them something, she's never in someone's path to be accidentally bumped into. It's just circumstance. Nothing purposeful about it.) But it was all brief, hastily broken, touches. Flashes of feelings not her own.
Sustained contact. That's new.
Natasha doesn't love it.]
When did they take you? [Natasha clarifies.
Redirects.
He's real.
Displaced.
Like her.
That's what's important. The fall can wait. Behind her, she can feel the distance between the cliff and the ground tugging at her, impatient for her to end it. Bucky Barnes and Natasha Romanoff never knew each other. Their familiarity is nothing but peripheral, both caught in Steve's orbit. But he's the closest she's come to home since waking up in the future. So the abyss can go fuck itself.]
What's the last thing you remember before-- [Natasha gestures vaguely towards herself and for a moment she's bald, chest glowing a soft blue underneath a paper thin gown, before she returns to normal.]
no subject
If she's getting that from him, what must he be getting from her?
That undercurrent of emotion that runs beneath everything, rushes up to the surface and he'll catch a slam of panic that doesn't show for an instant on her face before she shifts her weight from one hip to the other and oh so incidentally breaks skin contact. Casual.
They told her about the empathy bond. Showed her how it works. But it's nothing she's exactly explored. It happened accidentally in the safehouse a couple of times, until Natasha got better at avoiding it. (Without seeming to avoid it. Her fingers just don't brush accidentally against anyone's while handing them something, she's never in someone's path to be accidentally bumped into. It's just circumstance. Nothing purposeful about it.) But it was all brief, hastily broken, touches. Flashes of feelings not her own.
Sustained contact. That's new.
Natasha doesn't love it.]
When did they take you? [Natasha clarifies.
Redirects.
He's real.
Displaced.
Like her.
That's what's important. The fall can wait. Behind her, she can feel the distance between the cliff and the ground tugging at her, impatient for her to end it. Bucky Barnes and Natasha Romanoff never knew each other. Their familiarity is nothing but peripheral, both caught in Steve's orbit. But he's the closest she's come to home since waking up in the future. So the abyss can go fuck itself.]
What's the last thing you remember before-- [Natasha gestures vaguely towards herself and for a moment she's bald, chest glowing a soft blue underneath a paper thin gown, before she returns to normal.]