The place reeks of gloom and forebodes the worst in every aspect of it. Steve has just appeared on the dark dunes that have been haunting his dreams for the past weeks. The eclipsed sun peeks through the stifling clouds.
He warily looks up at the mountain towering over Vormir. The amber light of the last stone in his pocket glows through the fabric.
After a long and dreadful ascension, Steve comes face to face with the floating red creature that Clint had described to him many times. Except he is a familiar face from his past.
"Steven, son of Joseph," Red Skull says.
His somber specter floats down from the sky. Steve clenches his fist.
"Schmidt," he grits his teeth.
"That was in another lifetime. I am no longer that person — I have changed. And so have you."
Steve probes him coldly.
"But I never thought our paths would meet again," Red Skull continues. His eyes glance down at his pocket. "You have come to return the Stone."
Steve stands up square, both fists clenched.
"That is one reason. I'm here to get her back."
Red Skull knows who he is talking about. He guides him up the trail to the sacrificial altar. It looks just the way Clint described it, but his description doesn't come near as frightful as it is to his eye.
Staring down at the worn stone, it seems he can see the print of her boots as she ran over to the edge. His eyes begin to fill with water. He looks away and shakes his head.
He takes a deep breath in and turns to Red Skull again. "Where is Natasha?"
"The sacrifice required by the stone cannot be revoked."
"Bullshit."
"Her soul now belongs to the stone. It has been cleansed and made anew before departing."
Steve shakes his head as he comes to the realization that his worst nightmare is becoming true. "It can't. It can't. I am bringing the Stone back to have an exchange."
"The sacrifice made is permanent."
"We'll see about it," Steve mutters decisively.
He lifts Mjolnir, summons thunder and hits the specter with it. The thunderbolt jolts through him like through air and dies out.
"Your effort is vain. I cannot be fought just as I will not fight you. I am simply serving the Stone."
But Steve can't hear it. He stepped on the time machine with the strong determination to bring Natasha back with him. It was the only thought his mind could grasp onto not to fall into despair. The certainty that she could be brought back is what made the past few weeks more bearable.
He summons thunder again and hits the specter, again and again, but always unsuccessfully. Physical exhaustion, coupled with mental weariness, eventually get the best of him. And as he realizes that he has failed in his mission, he collapses to his knees. The heavy silence falls over his shoulders and he stares down at the floor. He sees Clint's broken arrow on the ground, only token of their visit and her sacrifice.
He clutches it in his fist and tears roll down his cheek.
Natasha is gone.
The sadness he feels and the bitter memory of his failure near self-loathing. Since he has returned to the present, he hasn't found sleep. The memories of Natasha haunt his nights. His brain goes over the same thoughts over and over again, the most obsessive one being he hasn't done enough to try and bring her back and that he should go back to fight Red Skull.
But Sam and Bucky are always there to talk him out of it. Both seem to genuinely believe has tried his best but, to him, it feels like it wasn't enough.
It is a bright, sunny day outside and he is sitting on the edge of his bed, staring blankly at the black blazer hanging on the backrest of the chair in the corner.
His eyes flicker to the mirror standing in front of him and he sees his pale, haggard face staring back at him in revulsion. The perfectly ironed white cotton shirt and black trousers can hardly conceal his disheveled look. The thin black tie is hanging loose around his neck. While dressing up, he had to take a break.
A knock on the door echoes across the dead room. Bucky steps through, fully attired, his hair neatly slicked back.
"It's nearly time," his best friend softly says, hands in the pockets.
Steve looks down at the floor again. "I'm not sure I can do it, Buck."
Bucky walks up to him, his body language and expression bear the solemnity of the day. Today is Natasha's funeral.
Steve had refused to have a funeral because there was no reason to believe she was gone. Tony's ceremony took a toll on him, but he stood up strong fueled by the hope he would bring her back.
After the ceremony, he had gone to Clint and shared his intention to go to Vormir for her. Clint had not been as enthusiastic as he had expected. His sorrow did not resemble his to the least as it already bore the first traces of mourning. But he could not mourn; mourning would have meant accepting she was forever gone. He forbid Clint to hold a funeral. Clint had reluctantly agreed.
But when he returned without her, Barton immediately set a date.
Nothing big or public — like she would have wanted— but something so her family could gather and say goodbye.
Although Steve can see why it is important to have it, he is not sure he is fine with the idea of it.
"I know it's hard," Bucky says. "But saying goodbye is what you need right now."
He lifts his fist up to his chin. "What I need right now is Natasha. If I go…," his voice breaks, "If I go it means I have given up."
He looks up at his friend with red eyes.
Bucky nods slowly. "I know. But she would want you there with the rest of her family."
One of their last conversations in the command room plays again in his head. "I had this family," she said with fond sadness.
Bucky gently presses his hand on the back of his shoulder to make him stand up. He holds the two ends of his tie and meticulously ties it. He adjusts the knot at the base of his throat and looks at him.
"You got this," he reassures him.
Steve and Bucky join the gathering by the lake and are immediately met by Sam bearing a sullen expression. He shares a rapid glance with Bucky then walks over to Steve and lays hand on his shoulder.
Hulk is sitting along with Rhodey on one the benches, his arm still in a splint. Clint is farther away with his family — the children are standing quietly with sad looks — glances in his direction then resumes conversing with Laura. Wanda, who is staring at the lake, turns around and comes up to Steve. She opens her arms and holds him in her arms. She seems relieved to see he has come.
The gathering is outrageously small — part of him hates that only a few people are attending when her sacrifice has helped to bring trillions of people back.
Clint is the first to speak with tearful eyes but with a peaceful and collected tone of voice. Then Wanda with the heavy and accepting voice of someone who has gone through too much loss. Banner speaks next then the audience turns silent.
All are quietly waiting for him to say a few words— he can feel some glances on him. Sam is sitting beside him, a little tense. He is about to stand up to divert the attention away but Steve stops him with a gentle pat on the arm. He gets up and walks to the front.
"Natasha is one of the first people I met when I arrived here. And she practically never left my side from then on…because she knew solitude well enough to know how dreadful it can be. So over the years, she successively became a teammate, then a friend, a confidante, an ally, family —sometimes all of these at once—, without I ever needed to ask her. That's who Natasha is," he says with a small shrug. "She selflessly soothes the people she cares about and never asks anything in return. And it's why the exchange for the Stone was so painfully successful. Nat is…was…the soul of this team. Pure and giving."
He looks away for a moment as he tries to hold back his tears. He has lost the woman he loves but it took him too long to realize. He made the same mistake of waiting too long again. "Natasha was all of these things for me the past 11 years because she didn't want me to be alone, and now that she is gone, the empty space next to me is excruciating. I see the absence of her everywhere. But I know what she would say to me. When I told her we should both get a life, she told me "you first". It seems like a Sisyphean task right now but after what she's done for us, the least I owe her is to honor her dare." He pauses with a sad smile and looks up. "So Natasha, wherever you are, I hope you have found peace and I promise I'll try my best to move on."
And so he tried to move on.
Weeks go by, and then months. Life goes back to some kind of routine. For him, it mostly consists of work and casual drinks with Sam and Bucky from time to time. He laughs at the jokes, but only at the surface. He tries to ignore the empty seat at their table. He tries to mute the ghost chuckles that echo through the compound. Sam and Wanda took care of packing her belongings and empty her bedroom, but he doesn't let anybody use it. And he has kept her pointe shoes. They're hung at the edge of his bedhead. They're worn out but he can't bring himself to wash them up — he is afraid it will spoil them, strip them of their history.
It has been four months since Thanos was defeated and the world has changed greatly. The Avengers aren't as needed as they used to be. The few disturbances are easily handled by authorities or with the intervention of a single Avenger.
He monitors things but only on paper. What it really means is him giving obvious instructions and waiting for the update.
A couple of months ago, he began taking on cooking classes. His skills have improved — Nat would probably be proud.
"Captain Rogers," the software calls. Something that has become rarer and rarer.
"Yes, Friday? Any issue somewhere that would need our intervention."
"No, Captain. But there have been a couple of similar reports by civilians that have caught my attention."
"What kind of reports?" Steve asks.
"It seems they have had an encounter with someone resembling agent Romanoff."
He frowns. "Probably erroneous reports. Why are you sharing this with me?"
"I had a look through the local data in search of more evidence and found something."
He freezes and gulps nervously. "Show me," he says.
The holographic screen opens and he falls in his seat as he clearly identifies the woman strolling down the street in the CCTV footage. She undeniably looks like Natasha. She is wearing a casual top with jeans and is smiling.
"Where and when?" he asks.
"Four days ago in a small town of Louisiana."
He has a thousand questions right now but he can hardly hear over the sound of his pounding heart.
"I have to go and clear this up."
"Shall I warn agent Barton and the others?" Friday asks.
"No. Not until I am sure it is her. I don't want to give anybody false hope."
He runs to his room and quickly packs up a bag. "Tell the team I'll be back in a few days."
"Yes, Captain."
He goes to the garage, gets in one of the cars.
He knows he shouldn't, but he can't help himself to hope it is Natasha. The engine roars as he drives off.
Steve enters the small county with apprehension. The place is so rural and remote that the cap and sunglasses he is wearing to remain anonymous are unnecessary.
He soon walks along the street where the woman looking like Natasha was caught on CCTV. He starts asking around about her with a photo of Natasha. But nobody seems to have seen her. She is like a mirage.
An elderly man eventually takes a second look at the picture Steve is holding.
"Oh yes, I have seen her before. But she doesn't live here. She works at the Millers guesthouse 30 miles from here."
"How long has she been working there for?"
"I don't know. More or less 3 months."
"Do you know her name?"
The man shakes his head no.
"Are you sure it was her?"
"Oh definitely, she isn't the type of woman you forget."
Steve jumps in the car and drives out the town. Nearing the destination, he enters an area filled with nothing but woods, lakes, and meadows. Nothing makes sense and he doesn't understand what Natasha could possibly be doing here.
He parks his car in front of an old, big house with worn white paint.
He gets out of the car and a Golden Retriever comes running to him, wagging its tails then barks as if to make the arrival of a visitor known.
The door of the front porch opens and a slender figure steps out. The woman is wearing a white floral dress with leather flat shoes. Her bright red hair, tied up in a ponytail, shines under the bright rays of sunshine.
He stands still, feeling his legs thaw under him.
Natasha — because he knows it is Natasha — gracefully walks down the stairs, across the lawn to him. She has a little smirk on as she looks him up and down with a mildly curious expression. The dog runs up and around, waiting for his reward. She pets its head softly and opens her palm to give it a candy.
She finally comes to stand in front of him.
"Hi," she says with a friendly smile. She patiently waits for him to voice his request.
"Natasha?" he murmurs.
She smirks. "Almost. Riley/Katherine," she corrects with an amused smirk.
Her aloofness surprises him. As amicable as she is, her interaction lacks companionship.
He thought he lost her but she is standing right here in front of him, looking well. He reaches over and holds her in his arms tightly.
Her arms do not hold him, instead, her palm gently push his waist away but he does not notice. He looks at her face again — because he needs to — and he leans in to close the unbearable distance between them.
He is suddenly flipped backward and falls harshly on his side. Natasha is hunched over him, her palm hardly pressed on his chest. She looks confused and downright annoyed.
"I don't know who you are and where you come from but this isn't how we greet strangers here."