It's been years.
Everybody is trying to move on.
Some can't, some do.
But everybody tries anyway.
Except maybe her.
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For a year, the Avengers tried their best. Everyone tried their best. Everyone still had hope that the snap was somehow reversible.
nobody believes this now. Some hope, but they don't really believe. Natasha doesn't blame them. A year is a long time. They're starting to move on, rebuilding the old lives as much as they could. Things slowly start to get into orbit. Slow, but steady. People easily forget, after all.
The team is trying their best, they say. The best at what, she doesn't really know. It seems like she's the only one on this road. All around her there is healing, forgetting, the moving on-s. It's all about being able to and not being able to. Natasha searches for a way, keeps up the search as if the snap were only yesterday.
She shoots, she punches, and her skill is always perfect. Everything always hits the mark.
If there's even a small chance
Another perfect after another.
We owe it to everyone who's not in this room.
But it's no longer a we. There is no one else in the room. She's alone in the entire building.
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"Nat, everything is fine as can be. Recovery just takes a long time. "
She doesn't give up. She tells them if there is anything, report here. That...
"This line is always open."
The images disappear, and she is left alone again. She wonders why recovery is all everyone cares about. There must be a way. Something to reverse...all this. A small voice in her mind tells her that four years is a long time to hope for something impossible. She ignores it and heads for training. Train for what, she doesn't know. There seemed to be a lot she didn't know these days.
She had never found silence unnerving before. When the black widow worked alone, and the silence was her home turf. When she used to be breathing underwater.
She hadn't seen Tony since he had left, Natasha realized. She now understood why he needed A.I's that spoke. it wasn't only because of their usefulness.
They all used to be on the same road. Now they're all moving forward in the wrong direction. Perfect mark after perfect mark, Natasha dropped the gun.
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"So, anything new?"
She wasn't always alone. the monthly meetings, Steve dropping in from time to time.
"It's France this time. And Natasha, it's not a rival gang. "
That wasn't why Natasha had shot her head up so quickly. She had thought it was some kind of clue. But everyone was going the wrong way, as always.
"Barton. Anything else?"
There is nothing of interest. She reminds them before they go anyway.
"Remember! this line is always open!"
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Steve wonders how she can still keep staying anxious after all this time. Natasha wonders how he can't.
He can't move on.
He keeps saying that.
'Not us.'
He's right of course.
It doesn't make this any less annoying.
She's refusing to move on. Holding on so dearly so as not to be swept away by the current. Covering up so carefully so that the water around her would not numb her wounds.
She's the only one on this path now.
She can't afford to let go.
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She's doing paperwork. Printing things on paper is pointless, but what's the harm in pointless things? She keeps track of everything that's going on, finishing a never-ending puzzle, looking for the missing piece. But the picture is complete. She listens to past video conferences, reads notes, reports... but the picture is complete without a doubt.
The line is always open, but the doors are not. The large keep out signs were mostly her work. Not that anyone ventures here anymore.
Day after day after day after day after day.
There's nothing new.
But she doesn't think anybody gets that
She's not desperate in the way they think.
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This is how she used to live before she joined.
looking at a perfect picture, fixing the stray strings when told.
That was her life, and that was what she thought she would die doing.
There was no place for her in the world.
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She traveled long and far, had come a long way for Budapest.
She never admitted it, but she had been given much, learned much.
That she was not alone.
If they lost they would do that together too.
That she had a family, had found one here.
She wasn't desperate in the way they thought.
She was just giving back what was given.
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It was ironic, really- that it was her. It really should have been Steve or at least someone else.
But only she stood her ground.
Steve couldn't move on.
Natasha wouldn't move on.
There was a difference.
And so Natasha was alone.
Leaving the line always open.
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Scott was lucky she was there.
Because if she hadn't, she doubted the others would have listened.
Or even if they would have still been there to listen.
But maybe it was Natasha that was lucky. Her grip was starting to loosen, with the current growing stronger.
As the only one still on the path, she was ready to welcome anyone who came back.
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Far-fetched idea, yes.
But it was more than nothing.
Natasha had spent five years on the path with nothing.
she could work with far fetched.
She got in the car.
It was time to finally meet Morgan Stark.