After Thanos' snap and the unspeakable consequences that ensued, time shrank and slipped off between their fingers. None had the luxury of processing. Understanding. Morning.
Natasha had merely reached the rest of the survivors' group, standing flimsily over Vision's lifeless body, that she was caught up by urgency again.
Okoye ran up requesting aid in order to find Shuri, pleading to her with eyes aghast.
The truth was she did not want to leave this place —and it felt like her feet were cemented in the ground — as long as he was there too since it was the only the corner on this planet where her agitated soul found rest from the sight of him. However, perhaps because of the effect of his companionship, or perhaps because she had truly changed like he believed, she found herself putting her needs second in favor of another's.
She nodded back to volunteer and her eyes swiftly swept across to Steve, comforting herself at the sight of his heavy breathing as proof he was still amongst them; praying inside (not that she was the religious kind of person) he wouldn't disappear while she would be gone.
Hours that stretched for an eternity went by during which urgent matters came one after the other. People were still disappearing, and more than one fell into dust in her arms. They were gone, but she felt the heaviness of their souls on every fiber of her suit.
Eventually, all those who had not perished gathered in the city. When the time for processing was finally bestowed upon them, Natasha allowed herself to withdraw from the crowd.
She walked through many rooms of the Wakanda palace, going past the groups gathered with a blind eye. She caught sight of Bruce, hunched on a chair in listless exhaustion staring blankly out of the window pane, but barely cared to notice. Maybe she would have in other circumstance if her mind hadn't been saturated with the towering need to be with the only person who mattered at this very moment.
She had been told where to find him, in a private room where he could rest for the night. Her pace sped up when her eyes saw the door. Her heart raced suddenly as she was being consumed by the fear she would not find him there, or only his ashes. She heard the sound of the snap echo loudly in her head.
Snap.
Snap.
Snap.
She hastily turned the knob with a shaky hand and walked through the door. The noise in her head went mute, the fear quieted down and her heartbeat resumed normally as she found Steve sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at the floor.
He had never looked so worn out. The kind of exhaustion his super serum had no cure for.
His eyes flickered up and the tense features on his face loosened a little. He let out a heavy sigh. She whisked to him and collided into his chest while he held her close in his arms, breathing in her scent.
"Nat," he whispered quietly as he planted urgent kisses in the crook of her neck in insatiable relief.
Then they pulled away to look at each other. She stroked his face with the back of her fingers. Both were at a loss for words but neither needed to hear even one to find comfort.
She ran her hand along his body, patting it softly in self-reassurance he was physically there. Steve groaned slightly when she touched his side. She helped him sit back while he rested one hand on the mattress for support.
She reached for the zipper of his suit.
"I'm okay," he said with a strained face. "You should get some rest."
She pursed her lips and opened the zipper down his back. Next, she gently slipped his arms out of the sleeves and pulled the suit down under his waist. Her eyes immediately fell on the large purple bruise on his side. She bent over to take a closer look. She carefully touched the swollen area with the tips of her fingers. She bit her lip when he flinched away.
"Looks like you have a broken rib. Maybe even two," she said.
"I'll heal quickly," he protested dully.
"Doesn't mean the serum doesn't need a hand to fix it."
She stood back up, unzipped her vest and dropped it on the armchair nearby. She then headed into the bathroom and came out with a first aid kit.
She knelt down in front of him and opened the box, taking the bandage roll out.
Steve was looking down at the floor again, completely stoic.
"You shouldn't be spending time on me. Others are still out there —"
"And we've done everything we could," she cut him in. "And unfortunately there's nothing more we can do for now. We needed a break. We all did."
She looked him deep in the eye with a sad expression. She began to recall the faces of all the people she had helplessly watched fade into dust. With a trembling voice, she added:
"Let me help you. Please." It was the only thing she could do right tonight.
He watched her closely then slowly stretched himself up to give her easier access.
She took the cloth bandage up to his ribcage and began folding it around his waist as delicately as possible.
"I lost him, Nat." Steve spoke while her palms were gently gliding over his skin. "For good, this time. He called my name and there was nothing I could do to save him."
She finished patching it up then knelt back down in front of him. She raised her hand and cupped his cheek; he gently rested his face against her palm.
"And Sam," he continued. It had become evident he too was among those who had vanished. "Wanda. Vision." Her heart ached at the thought of their lost friends.
"You need some rest," she instructed without much faith. She already knew neither of them would find sleep tonight.
She looked down at her suit and felt sullied by her inability to save those she cared for and those she had vowed to protect.
"I need a shower," she whispered to herself before going to the bathroom.
She slipped the catsuit off of her and stepped into the shower. The water and soap streamed down her skin but her flesh remained soiled. She felt dull. Empty. She pressed a hand on the cold tiling, head down, and shut her eyelids as her chest tightened. The water and her tears blended together.
When she came out, with a towel wrapped around her, she found Steve in the same position she had left him.
"You took long," he mumbled.
"I'm sorry."
They both knew time was a luxury in those dark hours.
She came to stand by the bed. He grasped her fingers, twining them around his, and pulled her down.
"Come here," he spoke softly. "I need to feel you."
She put her knees on the mattress and gently lay down next to him. He wrapped an arm around her and brought her closer against his bare chest.
The night was quiet but it was the kind of silence that translated a nameless heaviness. Yet, it seemed more bearably light now that they were in each other's arms.
Gazing into his bright blue eyes, she traced soft circles on his face with her fingers, then brushed his hair. But the sadness caught her again.
Her voice trembled. She knew his heart enough not to have the pretention to gauge the immensity of his sadness. "I'm sorry that you lost so many people today."
His pupils clouded over. He turned to stare at the ceiling for a few seconds then back to her.
He stroked her face with his thumb. "I haven't lost everything. I still have you."
He then shifted his upper body over to her and rested his head on her damp breast, one hand laid on her stomach, soothing himself to the sound of her peaceful heartbeat for the rest of the night.