The Mimic

174

"Sorry if it's a bit cold. I didn't want to burn you." Natasha murmured with a slight smile.

Y/n was sat on the bathroom counter in just a pair of shorts and a bra. She was completely detached, simply staring at the wall in front of her. From the red build up in her hair to the heavy grass stains on her ankles, she was completely caked in blood and muck. Despite her straight he face, her eyes depicted ones of pure shock and torture. Those code words had really messed her up.

The sound of running water from the sink beside her filled her ears, creating a nice contrast to the pained noises and the crying that she'd been hearing on the quinjet just moments before. The smell of a nice vanilla soap begun to creep into her nose, trying its hardest to fight against the metallic smell of blood that dominated her senses.

Natasha had decided to clean y/n up. A bath or a shower would've been far easier, but she knew that the poor girl wasn't in a good enough mental state to be near any body of water by herself. So, she had opted for a sink filled with soapy water and a sponge.

Nat was pretty messed up herself, especially with the big gash on her forehead from being hit on the head with Steve's shield so hard, but she didn't care. Y/n was her priority. Every other person on the team didn't even care to check on y/n when they stumbled off of the quinjet to tend to their wounds, and Natasha was so, so angry about that. After Bucky, y/n was the most affected person. It didn't matter if she didn't look injured, the mental damage of almost killing her own lover was scarring enough.

Natasha let out a quiet sigh as she dipped the sponge into the lukewarm water, carefully wringing out the excess before she begun to clean y/n up. She started with the face, making sure to be as gentle as possible. She wasn't sure if there were any cuts or bruises underneath all of the mess, so it was better to go soft.

The feeling of the sponge against her skin was actually quite grounding and calming for y/n. It hurt to watch the sponge wash away Bucky's blood from her hands, but she knew it had to be done. It would just torture her more if it stayed. So, she let Natasha continue to dab the sponge at her skin in a soft manner, trying to ignore the fact that the once-yellow sponge was now a murky-reddish colour.

"Let me know if it hurts, okay?" Natasha cooed, not expecting any response from y/n. She was simply narrating everything that she did, trying her hardest to keep y/n out of her head. "I even picked out my 'nice soap' for you y'know.. It's the one that you always try to steal from me."

It wasn't the same without Natasha there.

Y/n remembered that night so clearly. Of course there were many reasons why that night stuck in her mind - like the fact that she almost murdered the whole team whilst under Zemo's control - but that was also the night when y/n and Natasha were really able to bond.

Nat took care of her. She took care of her even when the rest of the team didn't. She made sure that she sat at the front of the quinjet so she didn't have to see how hurt everyone else was. She took her shoes off and wrapped a warm jacket around her. She cleaned all the blood off of her. She dressed her wounds. She told stories until she fell asleep. She made sure that she ate even if she didn't want to. Natasha was always there for her, and now she was gone.

Y/n was stood in the same bathroom. The sink was filled up with soapy water, and a similar-looking yellow sponge was floating in the centre of it. She had stripped down to just a bra and a pair of shorts, and the same vanilla scent fought for dominance with the metallic smell of blood in her nose. Everything felt so similar, except this time she was alone.

She wasn't sat up on the bathroom counter, and Natasha wasn't there to quietly talk to her and clear her up. The water was cold. Cold enough to cause y/n to flinch every time it came in contact with her skin. The last of the vanilla soap had been used to mix with the water, and even then it had been a struggle to get any out.

It wasn't the same.

Y/n stared at herself in the mirror as she slowly begun to dab at her skin with the sponge. She started with her face, just like Natasha did. She was desperately trying to replicate the memory, her mind practically begging for any sort of interaction with Natasha again. But it was impossible. She couldn't process it. She couldn't process the fact that she was gone for good. It wasn't fair. Y/n could still imagine the look on Nat's face when she discovered that she'd used the last of the vanilla soap.

God, she would've stood there with her hands on her hips, and her eyebrows would've been raised that typical big sister way. She probably would've challenged y/n to a sparring session to decide who was going to pay for a new bottle.

Y/n quickly stopped herself from imagining anything else, looking up at herself in the mirror to notice the tears in her eyes. They were red, puffy, and raw. She'd tried her hardest to put on a brave face after she snapped with Tony, but she couldn't hold it any longer. Losing Natasha was soul crushing, and the fact that she was stood alone just made everything even worse. The only person that she wanted right now (except for Bucky) was Natasha. She wanted to hug her and never let go.

Hell, if they were even able to say goodbye, it would've felt a little better. But everything had ended on a broken promise. She'd promised that they'd have a full-out training session, and now y/n would have to wait until she could join her to fulfil that promise.

It hurt too much.