If anyone had told him a few months back that the thirst catching in his throat would someday be almost an afterthought, he would never have entertained the idea. Yet here he is, pulling her close, turning his head to rest his cheek against her hair. He reaches out very carefully to cradle her violent tangle of emotions. It would be easy to just suppress them all, send her to sleep, it's what he'd done to countless newborns for decades, but Natasha deserves more than that.

"I've done this with Alice," he murmurs, motionless as he focuses on the panic and the fear and the sorrow and eases them with a sensation like a cooling ointment on an angry burn. "The things she's seen...aren't always so easy to throw off. Fended off a whole attack once by sharing one of her visions with the Volturi, but it took its toll on her. One minute she was smiling and waving goodbye to some of our visitors, the next, on the floor sobbing." His voice stays quiet and steady, his touch still light on what she's feeling. "I did this for her then. She asked me to. You won't wake on your own again."