The morning after the healing dawned soft and slow, sunlight filtering through the blinds like a gentle promise.
Natasha Romanoff woke alone in the spare bedroom—her body heavy with exhaustion, but lighter in a way she hadn't felt since childhood. She lay there, staring at the ceiling, hand resting instinctively on her abdomen. The warmth from last night lingered—not just physical, but deeper, like a scar had been rewritten into smooth skin.
No pain. No emptiness. Just… possibility.
She sat up slowly, breath catching as memories flooded back: Alex's hand on her, steady and sure; Wanda's red energy weaving through the damage like threads of light; Gwen's quiet presence, grounding her through the tears. They'd held her afterward—four bodies tangled on the couch, whispers of love and acceptance until sleep claimed them.
Now, the apartment hummed with quiet life: faint clatter from the kitchen, low voices, the smell of coffee.
Natasha swung her legs over the bed—testing. No dizziness. No regret. Just a faint, glowing warmth in her core, like the healing had left an echo.
She padded out—barefoot, in borrowed sweats—finding them in the kitchen.
Alex at the stove, flipping pancakes. Gwen chopping fruit, hair messy from sleep. Wanda setting the table, red energy idly floating plates into place.
They turned as one—smiles soft, eyes full of unspoken questions.
"How do you feel?" Alex asked first—voice low, careful.
Natasha leaned against the doorframe, hand still on her abdomen.
"Whole," she said quietly. "For the first time in… forever."
Gwen set down the knife—crossed to her, pulled her into a gentle hug.
"You are," Gwen whispered. "And we're so happy for you."
Natasha hugged back—tighter than she meant to, breath shuddering.
"I didn't think it was possible," she admitted, pulling back to look at them all. "The Red Room… they took that from me to make me a weapon. No distractions. No weaknesses. I accepted it. Buried it. But last night… you gave it back. You gave me a choice I never had."
Wanda stepped closer—red energy brushing Natasha's arm like a caress.
"We didn't give it," Wanda said softly. "We just helped you reclaim it. You deserve choices, Nat. You deserve everything they tried to steal."
Natasha's eyes stung. "I've spent my life thinking I didn't. That I was too broken. Too used. But with you three… I feel like I could be more. Like I could… dream again."
Alex turned off the stove—crossed to her, cupped her face gently.
"What do you dream about?" he asked, voice thick with emotion.
Natasha leaned into his touch—eyes closing briefly.
"A life where I'm not always looking over my shoulder," she whispered. "Where I can wake up and… stay. With you. With all of you. Maybe even… a family. Not now. Not soon. But someday. Knowing it's possible… it changes everything."
Gwen's hand found Natasha's—squeezing. "It does. And whatever that looks like—whether it's us, or kids, or just quiet mornings—we're here for it. All of it."
Wanda wrapped her arms around Natasha from behind—chin on her shoulder.
"You're not alone in the dreaming," Wanda said quietly. "I lost my brother. My home. But here… I see a future I didn't think I could have. We can build it together."
Natasha turned—pulled Wanda into a deep embrace, then Gwen, then Alex—four hearts pressing close.
"I love you," she said, voice breaking. "All of you. I don't say it enough. But I do. You've given me back pieces of myself I thought were gone forever."
Alex kissed her forehead—soft, reverent. "We love you too. And we'll keep giving. Keep healing. Whatever you need."
They stood like that—wrapped in each other—until the moment stretched into something sacred.
Then—slowly—they moved to the table. Breakfast became more than food: shared bites, lingering touches, quiet stories of dreams they'd buried long ago.
Natasha opened up more—voice steadier now.
"The healing… it wasn't just physical," she said between sips of coffee. "I feel… lighter inside. Like the weight of what they did to me is lifting. But it scares me too. What if I'm not ready for what comes next?"
Gwen leaned forward—eyes earnest. "You don't have to be ready all at once. We take it slow. One day. One choice. And if it overwhelms you… we're here to catch you."
Wanda nodded—red energy coiling gently around Natasha's wrist again. "I know that fear. The chaos inside me used to feel like a curse. But with Alex's resonance… with all of you… it feels like a gift. We'll help you feel that too."
Natasha smiled—small, real. "I already do."
After breakfast, they migrated to the living room—couch becoming their sanctuary again. Natasha lay with her head in Alex's lap, Gwen's hand in hers, Wanda's arm draped over her waist.
Alex stroked her hair—slow, soothing.
"The healing might have side effects," he said quietly. "Emotional surges. Vivid dreams. Your body adjusting. If it gets too much—"
Natasha turned her face into his hand. "I'll tell you. I promise. No more hiding."
Gwen kissed her knuckles. "Good. Because we're done letting you carry it alone."
Wanda's red energy pulsed softly—warmth spreading through them all. "We're family now. Scars and all."
Natasha closed her eyes—tears slipping free again, but peaceful this time.
"For the first time," she whispered, "I believe that."
They stayed like that—four people, one quiet morning—rain long gone, sunlight warming the room.
Healing wasn't instant.
It was this: slow mornings, shared dreams, hands that held without letting go.
And in that, Natasha found something she'd never dared hope for.
Peace.
Whole, unbroken peace.
(Word count: 1005)