Sorry this took me so long to get up! It isn't my favorite chapter or the longest, but it moves things along. Next chapter will be very short (only around a thousand words) and will be updated in 2-3 days. After that, there is a flashback that will show everything that happened, which will be much better and longer, promise. So yeah, gameplan! Hope that you guys enjoy and feel free to provide some feedback! Big thanks to all of the reviewers!

I still don't own Marvel. Dang it.


Her words hit him like an ice pick to the heart. He stumbled a little and grabbed onto the couch for support. "That can't be true," he whispered.

"You shielded me from the impact of us hitting the ground even though you were injured. I held your hand in mine and watched the light leave your eyes. I saw you die!"

Steve put a hand to his head as his breaths came in short gasps. Natasha crossed the room in a few steps and put her hand to the back of his head, which was covered in soft blonde hair, very unlike the bloody mess she had last seen. "Right here. I saw your split skull and there was nothing I could do."

"No. This is all some sort of…nightmare," he responded, trying to convince himself of the same thing. None of it was real. It had to be Wanda's magic...it had to be. He couldn't be dead...

"You bled out and died, Steve," she said sternly.

The nightmares, the bloody and smoking Quinjet, the lack of people. It all made sense.

"Damn you and your stupid self-sacrificing attitude," she muttered, looking him in the eyes. "I was completely helpless, Rogers."

"What about you?" he asked, his eyes still trained on the floor.

"They had to pull me away from you. You wouldn't let me go," she said it softly. He could almost picture men having to tear her away from his dead body. As soon as the image came to mind, he wanted it erased. "I remember… fading in and out. Then Clint was there. It's all very choppy. They wheeled me into surgery for broken ribs, a torn lung, and a nasty leg wound…" Natasha's voice trailed off. Steve put the pieces together about when she did. "I died on that operating table," she whispered. Steve looked at her vulnerable expression and pulled her into his arms. It may have been against her will, but frankly he didn't care. "I was fine a few hours ago and-"

"Time must be different here," Steve breathed into her hair. "I wanted you here with me. I longed for your touch every single day. But not like this. I never wanted these circumstances."

She was shaking in his arms as he rubbed his hands up and down her back in a calming fashion. He couldn't even imagine what she was going through.

The head wound also explained his lack of memories. Perhaps, if he had bled out from some other wound, he would have been able to recall what had happened. He wouldn't have to simply stand by and watch as she fell apart.

After holding her for a moment, Natasha began to shudder. The lights began to flicker as well. Natasha stepped back a little in surprise as she brought her hand up to her face. It was almost see through, just the ghost of the appendage that has been present mere seconds ago.

"What the hell?" she whispered. As if the day could not get more complicated. Her breath began hitching in her throat as she looked to Steve. What he saw in her eyes was fear.

The gears in his mind began to turn. The lights, her shimmering form, how she had been on an operating table. "They must be trying to bring you back. Natasha, you have to go."

"No! I can't leave you here alone," Natasha retaliated as her skin began to turn more peachy and the lights returned to their normal on state. "I already left you once. I sure as hell am not leaving you again. Not here, by yourself."

Steve took her gently by the shoulders, his steely blue eyes looking into her vivid green ones. So much of their relationship relied on eye contact, as if they could see each others thoughts through gazes and flashes across the room. "I got to see you again. I will be fine. At least now I don't have to wonder about where I am. Go live your life, Natasha, they need you." Each word he said seemed to pierce his soul. Of course he wanted to be with her, but not under these circumstances. He didn't want to be the singular reason why she stayed dead.

Clint and the rest of the team needed her. He could not be responsible for her never making it back to them. Lila and Cooper and Nathaniel would lose their Auntie Nat because of him, and he was not about to let that happen.

"Natasha, you will survive. I'll see you again, but in a long time. Promise me that."

"You know I can't make that kind of a promise, Steve," she whispered.

He took her hands in his and responded, "then try your best."

Something like tears began to glaze over her eyes again, but Steve told himself it was just because she was beginning to disappear again. "Damn it Rogers. Who knew the man out of time could turn me into a child?" Her smirk, although only half genuine, made Steve smile.

"Who knew that you would ever take orders from an old man," he laughed breathlessly. "Go, Natasha," Steve insisted again.

Natasha nodded, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. "Don't get too bored, Steve."

Steve's hands fell slack at his sides. She was gone.


The light was blinding. She blinked her eyes slowly as the world came into focus. Yelling flooded her ears and a dull pain began to reside in her left leg. Ever single breath she took as if she had been stabbed. She moved her head slightly to make sure that there was in fact no knife sticking grotesquely out of her ribs.

"Natasha, stay with us," a voice ordered.

She turned slowly, her blood-crusted hair getting caught on the torn leather of her black catsuit that had become sticky and dark red with her blood. A steady flow of cool air was going into her mouth from an oxygen mask that was affixed over her head. As she breathed in and out, small spots of fog showed up on the mask. Clint was holding her hand with a light grasp. A pained expression was set upon his face.

"Steve," Natasha whispered, voice muffled through the mask. She could see him, right in front of her. Staring at her with his ice blue eyes, as if she were the only person in the world.

But he was dead, she knew that. Then why did she feel as if she had just seen him? Spoken to him? "Where's Steve?"

"Sh, don't talk. Nat, he's gone, you know that."

"Scalpel," one of the doctors ordered, followed by a chink of metal. They looked to Clint as he talked to Natasha. "Are you sure that you should be in here? The waiting room is right outside-"

"Let me stop you there. If you want me out, you will have to man handle me out of this room and then you can have more operations to perform," Clint threatened. The doctors quickly looked the other way and continued their work.

"I thought I saw him," she stated, trying to make her earlier point clear.

"You've lost a lot of blood, Natasha. You scared me. A minute ago, you flatlined."

Natasha bit back a wince as she felt the bones in her leg move. Spots danced in front of her eyes even through the heavy anesthetic as the doctor pulled out what appeared to be a large piece of shrapnel. Or bone. At this point, she really had no idea. The serum did a good job of keeping her alive, but that fact worked two ways. Sure, she was alive, but anesthetic only worked in large quantities for so long. "We need an X-ray table," one of the doctor mentioned and a nurse practically flew out the door.

"We need another transfusion bag!" a different nurse yelled, sending the room into a higher state of chaos. Clint's grip on her hand tightened.