You are stood alone in the streets, watching the news playing on the billboards broadcasting the damage from your fight and the casualties, rain pouring down on you until your attention is distracted as you hear footsteps approaching you from behind. You don't turn around, recognising the footsteps, near silent but with the effort for you to hear, until you feel a familiar pair of arms wrap around you and pull you into a warm and comforting embrace Natasha: It's okay, sweetheart... it's okay.
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