It was one of the dark ones again, one of those he hated most, when Natasha was involved, but this time he realized early enough he was dreaming. With some effort made it to turn away in time, before the screaming and bleeding could start.
He could still feel her press against his body, naked and warm, and part of his clouded mind realized, that was real. So he allowed his mind to dwell there, hands softly, slightly clumsily in his drowsy state caressing her back while she smiled at him.

They were talking, he couldn't quite make out the words. His hearing implants probably were off. He didn't need to hear. She had told him yesterday what he had longed for all the time, and he had already memorized these few syllables on her beautiful full lips.

It wasn't until the shot fell and she collapsed in his arms, lifelessly, that he realized his subconsciousness had played another evil trick on him.


At least he managed to tear himself awake immediately this time, breath racing through his chest in harsh, short gasps, his arms still closed tightly around her body. He was awake, no disorientation this time, no irrational fear. Just his eyes burning with the last remains of the dream as he buried his face against her neck just like so often last evening and tried to forget.