Chapter 1: Natasha- Denial

This story is totally based on the video made by the Super Carlin Brothers about the original Avengers in Endgame representing the five stages of grief. If you haven't checked it out absolutely do because it's barely even a theory, it seems so obvious after watching that video! Each chapter will be some insight into the coping mechanisms of each Avenger in the five year period between the first 10-15 minutes and the rest of the movie. This movie and the fandom around it has really inspired me- even though right now is my exam period- and I'd love some positivity if you find it interesting! :D


Natasha rubbed at her eyes, staring at the faces flashing up on the screen and scribbling the names underneath. She'd type up them up later; maybe she should just be doing that now but she was too exhausted to sleep straight. Was that a peanut butter and jelly sandwich hovering in the air? If she was hallucinating maybe she really should take a break. But no, a few blinks revealed that there was a hand attached to the plate, and the hand was that of the one and only Captain America. With a grateful nod, she accepted the food. "Thought you might need some nosh. You've been in the same spot for days Tasha."

She took a bite from the sandwich but kept one eye on the screen. "Thanks Cap, but I don't need a babysitter."

He sat down backwards on the chair and paused the screen without any request from her. She raised an eyebrow. "No, but I think you could do with a friend."

With a chuckle, she rolled her tongue around her mouth for a moment before deciding upon what to say. "Just because you got that honorary doctorate of yours by flashing your name doesn't mean you're Dr Phil."

"Oh I've always been the most righteous Avenger. That's on you if you didn't notice," that made her laugh harder than she had in four years, and it hurt, as if she shouldn't be doing it. There was plenty of time for laughter once she'd saved the ones they'd lost.

Her friend studied her from across the table in that new way he had of his. He might say he hadn't changed, but she could see him psychoanalysing her from fifty feet away. To distract him before he could say anything, she suggested they go see a play since he was here. The theatre might not be the first thing you'd expect superheroes to do on their days off but the tone of the singers and the classic style brought him back to his Golden days, whilst it gave her a rush to push through a performance without breaking down and falling into the darkness of those strict ballet lessons. That was why still kept the shoes on her desk. To remind herself that she could push through anything and come out on the other side.


Settling into her seat, Natasha glanced around them. It wasn't half, but a lot of the seats were empty. Steve had pointed to the whales in the sea, saying something about less pollution. She had a feeling he'd said something similar before, and would probably do so again, knowing that she wasn't fully taking it in. Maybe it made her the villain, but she couldn't make herself care. She would take back all the pollution to regain the people that they'd lost. Today in particular, she'd been occupied with staring out the window in the other direction at the monument being constructed in the city centre. A gulp had caught in her throat like a ball, because she knew she had a huge list of names to send by the deadline to carve onto those monuments in every city around them. She was going to avoid walking this way if she ever could. Wasn't Thanos's whole point resources? Why should they waste resources on monuments when they were going to get everyone back? It might take a while but she knew it would all get back to normal.

Steve shook her arm lightly and she snapped her head to him. "I said what flavour ice cream do you want?"

She forced a grin. "Chocolate, of course."

Nodding, he kept his eyes on her for as long as he could as he walked away. She stared at the red curtain in front of her and had to blink back memories of the Red Room. So hard that when Steve returned with a chocolate for her and a vanilla for himself she jumped. "Is everything alright?" He asked, even though he must have known what he'd answer would be.

She set her face, turned to him and smiled. "Of course. I was just in my own world."


As the curtain came up Natasha's eyes flitted down to the orchestra without her volition. With each dramatic surge of the music she saw a musician self combust, splattering the pit with blood the colour of the curtain. She rubbed at her eyes in horror, vaguely aware that Steve was glancing at her and trying to appear as normal as possible. As if she were just tired. Look up to the stage. Focus on the performance. Alright, she could do that. She took a steadying breath and watched the dancers. For a moment she accumulated to what was going on onstage. She'd just caught up to what was happening when a violin scratched back and forwards and the prima ballerina leaped at another- except instead of seeing these two women she didn't know Natasha saw herself as a teenaged and her greatest rival in the Red Room sparring with her. Except she wasn't just playing, she meant to kill that girl who'd taken her spot as the favourite. Natasha scratched at her throat, shutting her eyes. "Nat?" Her breathing was heavy now, no matter how much she attempted to disguise it.

Open your eyes. You look crazy. Psycho killer. That voice spoke in her Soviet instructor's voice. Of course. She hadn't seen her for years, but it was as if she were hissing directly into her ears. She knew there was no-one there but she opened her eyes. It would scare the demon away. Yes, the voice was replaced by incredibly loud music, assaulting her eardrums. "Nat."

The prima ballerina collapsed dramatically to the floor in a leap and a flood of characters flew onto the stage, enveloping her. Natasha may have been separated from them by several rows of seating but she felt just as trapped as the performer must. The faces of the ensemble morphed into Wanda's, Sam's, Fury's and then the prima ballerina leapt up from the circle with a knife, except it was the face of the Black Widow killer that must have looked down upon countless victims. Her friends- no, family, turned to despair and fear as she assaulted them even from her position gripping the edges of her chair. "Natasha!"

She bit her lip hard to focus on something else, something easier; her own pain. But as the curtain fell all her senses flooded with blood and a memory screamed at her. I have red in my ledger. So much. All those people. Like Tony's kid. He'd been innocent. "Nat!" Steve gripped her hand and she turned to look at him. It was the interval and most of the audience was stood up, milling around stretching or buying snacks. "Do you want to go outside and talk?"

She licked the blood off her lip before he saw it. "If you have something you want to get off your chest. But I don't want to miss Act 2."

He frowned. "You didn't seem okay."

"I'm great!" She proclaimed. "I was just invested in the performance. It was captivating, right?"

With a reluctant shrug, he asked if she wanted anything to drink and she decided to go with him to the bar to decide. As they walked over she glanced down at the picture on her phone, Wanda's profile picture and her number. She could imagine it buzzing with her information at any moment. One day it would.