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Nora exhaled, the crackle of blue from Institute teleportation making the air on her arms stand on end. She spoke softly, “Oh, Natasha,” Her voice caught in her throat, and she barely stopped herself from falling over, instead forcing her way towards the sanctity of the Castle, and her bed within there. She needed to debrief with Preston, but- after. He would understand.
Eventually, after what felt like several hours, Nora made her way into bed, thankful that she let Preston convince her to sleep in the General’s office, and curled up into a small ball, missing the way her and Natasha would share the space. She pulled the picture of her wife out from under the pillow, crumpled and faded, but it survived in her vault suit, 210 years tucked close to her chest.
Gently, she held it up to her face, and whispered, a barely audible sound, “Shaun- oh- he’s. I can’t.”
She tucked the page away, and fell into a fitful sleep.
The choices before her were stark. Betray her son, or betray humanity? She wasn’t sure she had it in her to do either.