Natasha understands intimately what that feels like. The inescapable thought that maybe - just maybe - they let her go as a test. That they'd reel her back in one night and punish her for trying to escape. She shifts onto her side so she can face him, sliding her hand up to rest against his cheek as her eyes skim his.

"It takes time, but that feeling fades. It took me months after I escaped before I was comfortable staying in one place for more than a week. It took even longer to stop expecting the Red Room to be there when I looked over my shoulder." A sad smile tugs at the corner of her lips. She hates that this is something they both understand.

"Is there anything you think would help you feel better about being out?"