"So did mine." Of course, he came back— but the man that returned to her, once, and then twice had not been the man she mourned. She still mourned that man, even though her memories of their time together were like fog or quicksilver, even if she had nothing left of him that she could touch.

It is too much to explain. Natasha is good at reports, but not always good at explanations.

"So did Nikolai."

But the Natasha in the memory is still talking. "It was good that we had each other, even for a short time."

The old woman tells Natasha to stay. "Your mother used to tell me that." The two embrace, and then the old woman is holding the baby again.

"She was afraid you would forget what's important."

"Never," says the Natasha in the memory, even as she walks away.