This chapter takes place about 7-8 months after Clint's death. Longest chapter yet, and I apologize for any OOCness that may arise. This one hurt more than Clint's chapter to write. But once I say I will finish a story, I try to, even though killing off half of my OTP this way was painful. Having a little trouble with Thor's chapter though, so it may be a day late fyi. So a Sunday update is looking to be the most plausible. Thanks for all of the support! At the end of the chapter I will be handing out complementary tissues for anyone that wants them. It is the best thing ever to hear that even though I am making you guys feel sad, at least I am making you feel something. Better than saying it would be sad and then failing I guess. Anyways, thanks for reading and I hope that you guys like it!

I don't own Marvel. Seriously. If I did, how could I kill off all of these amazingly amazing characters without millions of people getting angry?


After Clint was lost, the nightmares came for Natasha again. She had so long kept them at bay, and being in the same room with Steve helped. But the night after Clint had been buried in the ground, she woke up screaming and slashing the air with a knife for the first time in months. It only got worse from there. Over the course of six months, they got worse and worse, eating up more of what little sleep she managed to get. The nightmares progressed to every single night, and would even play in her mind during the day. Steve helped with soothing words, but Clint had been her rock for decades. It wasn't the same.

They still went on missions, however. The new Avengers team stuck together in order to keep the world safe, as their fallen comrades would have wanted. However, the fatigue had been getting to Natasha more than she liked to admit.

A sense of weight settled over her bones as she completed mission after mission, lived day after day, the bags under her eyes growing darker and darker. Steve didn't bring it up, as it would cause her to retreat further within herself. Natasha was often found playing with the simple silver wedding band on her finger, as if it kept her anchored to the ground, to life itself.

One night, after a movie, she fell asleep on top of Steve, both of them on the couch. Not having the heart to move her, Steve turned off the television and closed his eyes, his wife's steady heartbeat lulling him to sleep. They slept arm in arm, wrapped up in each other. For the first time in almost two months, Natasha slept soundly through the night.


The next day they were called into another mission. A group of heavily armed rebels had pinned down a convoy delivering medical aid, ammunitions, and food to an operating base in Northern Washington. The first part, which was getting the rebels away from the convoy, was easy enough. They were lured into the snowy forest, allowing for the vehicles to make their escapes to the base. Wanda, Sam, Steve, and Natasha stalked through the trees, taking out the rebels whenever they showed up.

What they hadn't planned for was the rebels to have set up a trap. All of a sudden, heavy boots began echoing through the trees as reinforcement troops came in. "It's a trap!" Steve yelled over the comms.

"Roger, got incoming from all sides. At least a hundred new rebels," Sam relayed as he dropped down from the sky through a hole in the foliage, wings folding back into his pack. Wanda followed, Natasha at her heels. In a minute, they were all back to back, staring down the enemy.

"The Avengers. How big you are in the world, but how small and insignificant you are now," one of the rebels sneered, taking out his gun and aiming it at Steve. "End of the line for you heroes. Time for you to join your fallen comrades," he spat.

"Everyone, take the section in front of you," Steve whispered. All of their eyes were dead set and matched to those of their targets.

Natasha's gun was the first to go off, hitting the talking rebel in the chest and sending him flying backwards. From that moment on, chaos ensued.

Sam was grounded due to the trees and the snow in their area, but pulled out his guns and began firing at the rebels, who responded with their own weapons. The sounds of gunfire rang through the once silent forest. Bolts of red magic flew and struck various rebels, sending them into trees or into the air. Wanda's eyes glowed red as her fingers produced crimson balls and sent them flying into the enemy's ranks.

Natasha leapt from person to person, either firing off her pistol or sliding between men on the slick ground before swiping their legs out from under them. Her widow bites crackled with energy as they met her targets and she moved onto the next ones, dodging guns and bullets as she went.

Gradually, the team began to tire. But the rebels' numbers were diminishing faster. Steve's shield let out metallic clangs as he threw it between men, bouncing it off of them before catching at and blocking gunfire. The snow and wind began to pick up, diminishing their view of each other as the fight continued. He blocked out the cold and focused on the mission at hand. He was not on the valkyrie, he was safe. Instead, he searched for forest for his wife. Natasha's red curls were bouncing off to his right, and occasionally a flash of blue would come out of the snow.

Gunfire from Sam was to his left, as the white landscape seemed to be set on fire from Wanda's magic behind him. He crept forward, leaping in front of another rebel and bringing his shield up to the man's face. He fell down in a crumpled heap onto the snow. Steve surveyed his area and the dying sounds of gunfire lighting up the white blizzard that had set over the team.

In the snow and the wind, they had all lost sight of each other. Visibility was down to about five feet.

"Clear North," he said over the comms.

"South and West secure," Sam and Wanda said at the same time as they checked over their areas. The pangs of bullets had ceased, leaving only the sound of wind in the trees.

"Natasha, is the East secure?" Steve asked. There was only static on the line. "Natasha?" A ball of worry formed in his throat as he left his position, running to his right as fast as his feet would carry him. "Nat?" his tone was more urgent now as the snow came down harder, obscuring his view even more. "Sam, Wanda, keep an eye out for stragglers. I'm going to find Natasha."

His boots crunched in the fresh snow as he dodged trees, running through them to where Natasha would have, should have been. Stopping for a moment to catch his breath, which made white clouds in front of his face, he looked around. Trees, snow, bodies of rebels. Nothing out of the ordinary. He took a few steps forward and his foot hit something metal. Steve picked up the object, intaking an icy breath as he brought it closer to his face.

It was one of Natasha's electric batons, as Tony used to call them. She never let them off her holster or out of her hand. His heart began pounding faster in worry. "Natasha!" he screamed. He was met only with the sound of wind and snow rustling through the trees. He thought back to how tired she had looked on the Quinjet to the drop off location, shrugging it off like it was nothing. But they both knew that her reflexes were dulled when she was extremely tired. Getting two hours of sleep maximum a night would do that to a person.

In the snow to his left, something red caught his eye. A bright red streak in the snow, leading off to what appeared to be a small rock outcropping. Following his instincts, Steve let the trail of blood lead him a few feet. In the snow, a small, silver earpiece glinted back at him.

"Natasha," he whispered. His feet moved forward faster, carrying him to where the rocks were. The snow was lighter there, and the wind was not as fierce. Taking a second to brush snow out of his eyes and follow the trail, he found that it abruptly stopped where a figure lay huddled against the gray rocks.

"Oh God, Nat," he murmured, running forward and collapsing next to her shivering form in the snow.

"T-took you long enough, Steve," she whispered, voice shaking from the cold. Snow clung to her red hair and her hands were pressed to her stomach. Blood leaked between her fingers.

"Sam, Wanda, I found her."

"We can't get to you in this weather. Sorry, Cap. We're headed back to the Quinjet to get a reading on your tracker and then we'll come as quick as we can," Sam replied.

Steve shook his head and sighed. It wouldn't be fast enough. He moved himself so that he was sitting next to Natasha, feet stretched out in front of him. He could already tell that picking her up and carrying her to the Quinjet himself would only end her life sooner. With careful hands, he removed Natasha's from her wound. Three angry, bleeding holes stared back at him as Natasha hissed, her face turning a pale shade of gray. He ripped off the sleeve of his uniform without a second thought and balled it up, putting it on her wound. Almost instantly, the fabric began to turn crimson.

Thinking quickly, he grabbed a handful of snow and packed it tight. "This is gonna hurt," he said. Natasha nodded and Steve pressed the snow to her wound. She let out a small cry as he then put his hand over the snow, keeping it in place. "You're okay, you're okay," was what he murmured.

Natasha shook her head in response, tears streaking down her face. There was pain written all over as she took shaky, shallow breaths in and out. "I love you, Steve."

"Don't talk like that, Natasha. Don't you dare. You aren't dying on me. I won't allow it," he said forcefully, bringing her closer to him in order to try and warm her up.

The hand that was not on her wound went around her shoulders and her head was brought into the crook of his neck. He refused to look at the ground, where the snow was more red than white. The snow in his hand was doing little to stop the bleeding, so he simply let it fall away, ripping off the other sleeve of his uniform to put over the blood soaked-one. He cursed himself for not bringing bandages.

"Cap, we have a lock on your location. Jet can't fly in this weather, and you're almost half a mile out. ETA is ten minutes for us to get there. Hang tight," Sam said over the comms, relaying the information that Wanda had provided him.

"Just hurry, Sam." Natasha had begun to shake both from blood loss and from the frigid air. He wrapped his arms around her tighter, rubbing her arms with his hand to create friction and warm her up.

Amid the silence, Steve could hear the quiet sounds of bootprints around the rocks. Natasha heard it too, and passed him one of her guns. The action made her grit her teeth, but the weapon was passed seamlessly from one bloodstained hand to another. In a swift motion, Steve shot up from behind the outcropping and buried a bullet in the rebel's head. He went down and Steve crouched back next to Natasha.

"Got him?" she asked, voice shaking.

"Yeah, thanks," was his reply as he got back into position next to her.

"Looks like that training was good for something."

"I could shoot fine in the days before you knew me, Nat," Steve replied, smirking a little.

"Fine. Then you met me and you began to shoot well," Natasha fired back. She shifted slightly to get her leg out from under her and ground her teeth in pain. The wounds reopened and the fabric got a fresh wave of red. "Shit," she whispered under her breath, which had become ragged and choked. Her head leaned against Steve's shoulder as his hand squeezed hers for support.

He had never felt so helpless. Natasha was bleeding out and freezing beside him, and there was nothing he could do. "You-take care of them, alright," she whispered against the thin fabric of his suit.

"No, no Natasha. They pick us up, you heal, we go back to the Tower and train them as always."

She shook her head again, rolling it side to side against him. A few more gunshots disturbed the silence, before it returned and there were no more signs of struggle. Chances were that Wanda and Sam were getting close and had encountered a rebel.

"Don't do anything stupid. I won't be here to do anything to stop you next time."

Steve could see it in her green eyes that she had all but given up. Sharp flashes of pain were so evident in them and her pale face stood against the bright red of her hair. "I'll try," was his quiet reply.

"Clint and I can help keep you safe. But I can't cover your ass forever, Rogers."

"Natasha, please stay. Just a few more minutes." Her heartbeat fluttered weakly against his shoulder as her breathing steadied and her eyes closed.

"I love you. So much, Steve. Don't you ever forget that."

Tears clouded his eyes as his fingers lifted her chin and he bent down to press a soft kiss to her lips. "And I love you, Natasha. Always and forever."

"I'll wait for you," she murmured. He held her closer, sheltering her from the storm outside, feeling her heartbeat thrum beneath his fingertips, the warm blood seeping out of her wounds.

In under a minute, the pulsing of her heartbeat stopped and she slumped like a rag doll against him, her hand still tightly clutching his.

"Natasha," he said, shaking her slightly. "Natasha." She did not stir, as he knew she wouldn't. His trembling hand moved to stroke her hair as tears made streaks down his face. "Please, God, no. Don't take her from me," Steve whispered. Sobs escaped his mouth as he clutched her limp body closer, taking it completely into his arms. His hand moved from her wound to moving hair away from her face, creating a blood red streak as he did so. "Please."

"Steve!" yelling came from a few hundred feet in front of him. Steve tried to shout back, but found that his throat was closed up with tears.

"I see him!" Wanda's voice pierced the air. In a few seconds, they both appeared through the snow, eyes worried.

"My gosh, Steve," Sam said, coming in front of him. He could tell just by looking at his friend what had happened. The redness in his eyes, the way he clutched her as if he would never let go. "Damn it, man. If we had only been a minute sooner." He ran a hand through his short hair. Wanda was holding a medical kit and set it down on one of the rocks, as it was of no use now.

She came to sit by Steve, who was struggling to hold himself together, still brushing Natasha's hair with his fingers.

"I am so sorry, Steve," she said in her sweet accent. He nodded in reply, lip trembling as his shoulders shook from held back sobs. Wanda sat on one side of him while Sam took the other. Together they watched and tried to support the soldier as he fell apart, the bloody body of the assassin wrapped in his arms.

It was Steve that carried her broken body back to the Quinjet and lay her down on the medical table. It was Wanda that put a blanket over his shoulders and handed him a warm mug of tea from the small beverage maker. It was Sam that offered kind words and piloted the jet back to the Tower. It was Natasha that lay motionless on the table.


Once they got back to the Tower, Fury was waiting with a truck to take Natasha to be cremated. Like Banner, the serum was too important to risk anyone getting their hands on it. He looked to his best agent with sorrow in his eyes, taking Wanda and Sam inside to debrief the mission and leave Steve alone with his thoughts.

He sat down on the Quinjet in a chair next to the table, taking her frigid hand in his. The blood had long since dried on her side and on his hand. Her wedding ring was smeared with the crimson substance. Steve pushed hair away from her face, vision becoming foggy once more.

He opened his mouth to speak, only to find that he had no words. Everything he could have told her, she already knew. He could just imagine her watching him, annoyed that he was repeating everything over and over. Just the simple thought of her sitting on one of the bunks in the jet, legs dangling over the side, watching as he made his peace with her corpse, tore him apart on the inside. So instead of talking on and on about how much he would miss her and how much she meant, he said six little words, the six that had meant the most to him since the day they were married.

"I will always love you, Natasha." Those words encompassed everything he meant to say but couldn't. And she would know that. He pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek, trying to push back the thought that this was the last time he would ever see her.

Steve set her hand back by her body and stood up, half expecting her to sit up and ask why he was leaving so soon. But that didn't happen. He instead walked out of the Quinjet, a broken man, leaving behind the one thing that meant absolutely everything to him.

By the time morning came, he was left staring at a single thing. And she was staring back. A sketch of Natasha looked back at him from the page, smirking slightly, green eyes alight. Her red curls blew softly in the wind as she sipped a cup of hot chocolate at the bench overlooking Central Park. The simple ring glistened on her finger, which was painted a deeper red than her hair.

Steve found himself smiling. It was a sad smile, but a smile nonetheless. "Always and forever," he whispered to the drawing, placing it carefully in a frame and hooking it onto the wall above their bed. "Always and forever."


*hands out tissues to those who need them* Sorry please don't hate me for this chapter! As a writer it hurt me too!