surprise! a quick update! ;)

this one's done in a little bit of a different style - just how it turned out. enjoy!

Sam hugs his coat a little tighter as the wind picks up. He's used to shitty weather. After all, he's spent time in a wide variety of weather extremes, from the blistering heat of the desert overseas to the blustery cold of a blizzard in DC. But there's just something about walking down a street of downtown NYC in what he can only assume is a freaking wind tunnel that has his mood worsening by the minute. He'd never spent much time in the city before meeting Steve, but since then he's been there more and more often, much to his chagrin.

He's surprised there are as many people as there are out and about on the streets, given the crappy weather. But then again, things are still a bit chaotic as the world struggles to return to some form of normalcy in the wake of half its population returning suddenly. People are still trying to get into routines and find the pieces of their old lives again.

Even he's still trying to come to terms with the fact that he was gone for five years. Steve and Rhodey had caught him up on the major stuff that had happened, but the more time he spends out and about, the more he realizes that he'd missed a hell of a lot more than they'd let on.

And then there's the grieving. He hadn't known Stark well, though he felt for the world's loss of one of its brightest minds, and more importantly he felt for the man's family. But he'd known Natasha, and that loss stings. They hadn't been close at first, but slowly she'd warmed up to him and soon after they'd become friends. And to come back and find that she was gone? It left him all kinds of out of sorts and trying to manage a sea of emotions he hadn't seen coming.

Mostly he was angry though.

Angry that he missed five years. That he came back to a world that had one less of his friends in it. That the people who'd been left behind had aged well beyond just those five years, and all looked just a little more weighted down than when he left him.

Angry at the purple asshole for thinking he had the right to rid the world of half its population. For separating families and friends for half a decade. For ripping apart the seams of people's lives and expecting them to just go on and be thankful for what he'd done. For causing the world to end up losing good people so they could fix what the asshole had broken. For taking a damn good friend away from him.

Angry at...fate? ...the universe? ...cosmic powers? ...God? for taking away Nat's chance at finding peace, because she deserved to have gotten some time without the responsibility of protecting the world on her shoulders. For making Nat, who'd already sacrificed so much, be the one to jump on the grenade for the goddamn universe. For allowing these events to have even happened in the first place.

Some days he's even angry at Nat.

For being a goddamn hero.
(But that one fades as quickly as it comes, because he's damn proud of her.)

For being selfless and believing it had to be her to sacrifice herself.
(He hates himself for that thought because he knows Clint Barton being dead is not a good alternative, and he knows she'd be miserable knowing he'd died so she could live.)

And for being so goddamn stubborn, but not stubborn enough to not to die.
(He hates himself for that fleeting thought too.)

But today? Today he's angry that he's staring at a massive mural of Iron Man.

It's huge, spanning most of the side of a building that's at least a few stories high. There are scrawls of gratitude, disbelief, and pleas for remembrance along the bottom where people have stopped to leave their mark. The colours are vibrant and bright, and Sam wonders if the artist comes back now and then to touch it up, because there's no way with the shit weather they've been having that it would remain so pristine.

He walks another block and he spots two more tributes for Iron Man. Another block after that, and yet another mural, this one tastefully done in a more urban style depicting Tony Stark rather than the suit.

But no matter how far he walks, he doesn't find one for Natasha Romanoff. No matter how many sides of buildings he searches, back alleys he peeks down, and signs he scans, he doesn't find one for the Black Widow.

She'd given her life, casting aside her own future for everyone else's, but no one seemed to be respecting that. Sure, the Avengers had kept a tight lid on the time travel aspect, and a lot of the details from the battle, but they'd disclosed that she had been integral to their victory. But the fact that Stark had wielded the stones had leaked out. He'd already been a hero, and now he was set to be a legend.

But the woman who'd, according to Steve and Rhodey, spent five years doing anything and everything she could to hold onto hope and find a way to fix what they couldn't prevent in Wakanda, was forgotten. She'd kept it together the best she could and had never given up. She had worked tirelessly to give the kids who'd been ripped from everything they knew something so they'd be ready when they figured out how to bring everyone back. She had given her life so that everyone else could go on living, without any hesitation.

And it seemed like no one was recognizing her contribution.

He knows there are probably people who are thankful, and that he just hasn't seen it. And he knows that she wouldn't have cared that people weren't memorializing her. She would have laughed and reminded him that she was a spy and liked the shadows, thank you very much.

But he's so angry that no one seems to care, because she deserves to be held up as a hero and as someone who people mourned the loss of.

If you asked Sam Wilson, people should be screaming her name from the rooftops in thanks because she'd saved them all in the end. And she'd been saving them long before that too.

But all the world seems to remember is Tony Stark. Iron Man. Snapped his fingers and saved the universe.

He wonders if there's a way he can make people realize who else they should be thanking. He wonders if anyone will listen to a replacement Captain America about a woman they'd all once hated.

Still, he does little things to honour her. He stops by the tree they'd planted on the grounds of the Compound, and leaves flowers. He has no idea which ones she'd liked, so he mixes it up and brings something new each time. He remembers her training and hears her voice in his head reminding him to not favour his left so much and to keep up with his hand-to-hand combat. He checks in with Steve and Wanda to make sure they're coping...like she used to after rough missions. He talks about her with the people she'd trusted as her family and her friends, and they spend time remembering Natasha Romanoff, the friend, and the sister. They talk about the good old days, and remember her strength, her wit, her sheer goddamn determination, her kind soul, and her quiet love for her family.

And they talk about the hole that's in their lives because she's not there anymore.

He wonders if there's anything he can do to make more people realize there is a hole in their lives too.

Weeks later he stumbles, completely by chance, on a tribute to Natasha on his way to grab some takeout for lunch. It pales in comparison to the size and in-your-face obviousness of the Stark and Iron Man ones, but it's something . Someone's put up some graffiti of a roughly drawn hourglass and a silhouette of her. It lacks the refinement of most of the Stark ones he's seen, but there's something endearing about how this one is a little rough around the edges and off the beaten path. There's a bunch of cards, candles, flowers, and pictures drawn by kids on the ground at the base of the hourglass shape.

He takes a step back and takes it in. Not half bad , he thinks to himself with a smile.

"Hey, you're that Falcon guy, right?"

So that's what it's come to. I'm "that Falcon guy" he thinks as he holds in a snort of amusement and turns toward the voice. He spots a teenage girl staring at him with a mixed expression of awe and doubt on her face.

"Yeah," he replies with a nod, hands shoved in his pockets as he shoots her a reassuring smile.

The girl nods back in recognition. "You knew the Black Widow, right?" she asks, gesturing to the tribute. He nods again. "You and her were part of the Secret Avengers with Captain America and Wanda Maximoff, right?"

He grimaces at the mention of his time as a fugitive. He'd really like to be recognized for the non-fugitive things for once... "Yeah, that's right."

"I'm glad they dropped the charges against you guys. They were bullshit."

Sam grins. He's starting to like this kid. "Thanks."

They're quiet for a minute as the kid's attention turns back to the tribute. Then, quietly she asks, "Did she really save everyone?"

He lets out a heavy sigh. "Yeah, she did," he confirms. "She was a hero. She was braver than anyone I've ever known."

His answer seems to give the kid confidence. "It's bullshit that there aren't more of these," she says brusquely.

Sam's spirits are buoyed by her anger. Maybe some people did care.

"You can't go five feet without seeing Iron Man or Tony Stark," she continues in the same bitter tone, "but this is the only one for Black Widow that I've seen. She did just as much to save us."

Sam is quiet for a moment as he considers how to respond. He shares her anger, perhaps more than the girl realizes, but he also knows Nat would never have wanted this much fuss over her. "Yeah, but I think she'd be happy knowing people like you appreciate what she did," he answers finally.

Her answer is immediate. "I guess. It's still bullshit though. The men always get glorified and the women forgotten."

Sam nods in understanding because he knows a thing or two about being forgotten and dismissed.

"Hey, I know people are being assholes about you being the new Captain America or getting the shield or whatever, but I think it's good. You're a good guy. We need that now, I think."

"Thanks." Oddly, the girl's words carry some weight in his mind. Public opinion hasn't been great since the news leaked out, and he's been struggling with the weight of finding a way to uphold Steve's legacy.

"I gotta go," the girl says, holding out a hand, "but it was nice meeting you."

"Yeah, you too," he says, reaching out and shaking her hand. He glances at the graffiti and then back at the girl. "And thanks," he adds.

She frowns. "For what?"

He nods toward the tribute. "For caring about my friend and what she did."

"It's my honour. The world could use a few more people like you and her."

Yeah, he thinks to himself, the world could definitely use a few more people like Nat.

But that was the problem. There just weren't any other people like Nat.

It's a few weeks later that Sam finds himself in the city again and he can't help but check on Natasha's tribute. He'd thought it might be faded and the collection of drawings and flowers be dirty and torn, but it's actually grown in size. There's more graffiti, and more tokens of gratitude, and it doesn't look any worse for wear. He's touched by the fact that clearly people are taking care of this tribute to his friend.

Like the last time he'd been there, he finds he isn't alone. This time there's a kid with bright red hair along with two people who he assumes are her parents.

"Sorry," the woman says, "we didn't mean to intrude. My daughter just wanted to leave something."

"No problem," Sam says, stepping aside. He watches out of the corner of his eye as the girl, who can't be more than 6, maybe 7 years old, steps forward and squats down to put what looks like a comic book next to some flowers.

"You're the Falcon," the man says in awe, drawing Sam's gaze away from the young girl.

Well, it's better than 'that Falcon guy,' he thinks to himself. "Yeah," he says, holding out a hand. "Nice to meet you."

"It's an honour," the man says, eyes widening as he clasps his other hand overtop of their joined hands and squeezes them in emphasis. "Thank you. Thank you for saving us all."

Sam smiles. "I just helped at the end. She's the one who did the heavy lifting," he says nodding toward the tribute.

The man and woman's eyes follow his gaze and they both nod. "Our daughter, Melissa, she was in an orphanage those five years," the woman explains as she looks back at Sam. "We were both a part of the Blip, but she wasn't. She's finally been telling us some of how it was for her, and she mentioned that a woman named Nat who had red hair had visited her there a few times, and that she'd given her a gift for Christmas one year. It took a little digging, but eventually we discovered Ms. Romanoff had been helping to run the orphanages and was the one who had been so kind to her when she visited." The woman looks down at her daughter who is carefully arranging some flowers next to the book she'd laid down. "It broke Melissa's heart when we had to tell her she'd died. Since then, she's been insistent about leaving something for her. We found some stuff online about this tribute and figured we may as well take a look. She's been working on a new comic book for months. Apparently the first time they met she gave Melissa one for Christmas. She's been obsessed ever since. She's always drawing now."

Sam smiles at the gesture because it sounds just like Nat to have made time to connect with the kid. He makes a mental note to ask Steve and Rhodey about those visits. "That's very kind of her, and you both for supporting her."

"Did you know Nat?" Melissa asks suddenly, looking up at Sam.

"Yeah," he answers as he squats down to her height, swallowing the lump of emotion at his friend's nickname. "She was a good friend of mine."

She looks down at the comic book she'd just put down and then back up at him. "Do you miss her?"

He breathes in a rough breath and exhales heavily. "Every single day." And God did he miss her. He'd come back to a world with no Natasha Romanoff in it, and when Steve had told him...he'd been in shock. Her loss stung, not least because there was so much he wished he'd had the chance to tell her. But he had sworn to Steve then that he'd make the world appreciate her, and he intended to keep that promise.

Melissa surprises him by stepping forward and wrapping her arms around him in a hug. "I'm sorry you have to miss her too," she whispers.

Sam pats her on the back gently and nods. "Me too, Melissa. Me too."

They break apart after a moment and then Melissa shuffles forward to smooth back the cover of the comic book that had blown open in the wind before she gets back up and wraps her arms around her mother's legs, burying her face into her jeans, apparently overcome with emotion.

"It was nice meeting you," the man says with a smile and a nod. "And for what it's worth, we appreciate everything you, Ms. Romanoff and the rest of the Avengers did for us."

"Thanks. Nice meeting you too."

They turn to leave and Sam hears the fading sounds of sniffles and a mother's soothing words as they head back out to the main street. He turns back down to the comic book and squats down again to turn a few pages, seeing the story of a red-haired superhero who saves the day. On the last page there's a separate drawing of what he assumes is Nat and Melissa, curled up together on a couch and a "thank you" underneath that was clearly very painstakingly printed by a child's hand. He feels his heart swell as he realizes that Nat hadn't been as forgotten as he'd thought. People cared what she'd done for them. Maybe not in the same over the top way that they did for Stark, but in a way that perhaps fit with who Natasha had been.

It occurs to him then that there very well may be pictures from that Christmas and he immediately pulls out his phone as he stands back up.

"Hey, Sam," Rhodey greets.

"Hey, Rhodey. How's things?"

"Oh, you know. Same shit, different day. How's the Captain America gig?"

Sam groans. "Chugging along. Got a second? I've got a quick favour to ask."

"Shoot."

"You have access to Natasha's files from those five years I was gone?"

"Some," Rhodey answers slowly, clearly confused by the question. "Why?"

"Nat visited an orphanage for Christmas one year and had a nice interaction with a kid I just ran into at a tribute for her here in the city. I wondered if there were any pictures...I thought the kid might appreciate it. She's taking Nat's death pretty hard."

Rhodey's quiet for a second. "I don't know if Nat's files will have anything on it, but if not, Pepper probably has something from the Foundation."

"Anything you can send my way is appreciated. I'll do the digging."

"Yeah, no problem, man." He pauses and Sam can hear his muffled voice speaking to someone else. "Hey, I gotta go, Sam."

"No problem. Thanks again."

"Yeah, of course. Talk to ya."

"Bye."

Rhodey hadn't managed to find anything in Nat's files, but he'd called in a favour with Pepper and she had sent over a ton of stuff related to the orphanages, which he learned Pepper had renamed after Natasha. Sam spent a day combing through the files, learning more and more about what Nat had done in those five years. Steve had told him some of what she'd done, but he suspects that Nat hadn't even told him half of what she'd been up to. Pepper's and her staff's notes outlined the sheer volume of paperwork Nat had been handling, as well as the care and thought she'd put into every aspect of the kids' care. Eventually he unearths a file folder filled with photos from various events they'd had for the kids. He leans back in his chair when he finds exactly what he'd been looking for. There's a photo of Nat on a couch with a young redheaded girl curled up next to her, a book held in front of them. The girl - Melissa, he corrects himself, because it's absolutely the same kid he met - is clearly comfortable as she leans against Nat tiredly. Nat's hair is a weird combination of red roots and the blonde he remembers from their time as fugitives, and she looks...tired. Knowing how much she'd been handling and the fact that she'd been shouldering a lot of emotional weight too, he isn't surprised. Still, there's a certain peace that's easily seen in both of them in the photo. He doesn't know the whole story, but it's clear from the drawing he'd seen in Melissa's comic book that this moment had been significant for the girl. He attaches the photo to an email that he sends to Pepper, asking if it would be possible to pass along the photo to Melissa, explaining the situation briefly.

To his surprise, Pepper writes back just a few minutes later and asks if he wants to deliver it himself. He contemplates it and then agrees, because he'd really like to see what it means to the kid. She writes back again a few minutes after he accepts and says she's going to call them personally to ask if it would be alright that she give him their address to drop by with a photo for Melissa.

It's an hour later when his phone chimes with another email, telling him they'd enthusiastically agreed and said he could drop by any time the next day.

He knocks on the door and then smooths out the corners of the envelope in his hand. He doesn't have to wait long before the door swings open to reveal Melissa's father.

"Mr. Wilson, please, come in."

"Please, call me Sam," he says as he steps over the threshold and into the house.

"Sam," he repeats warmly with a nod. "I've gotta say, I never expected to have an Avenger in my home."

Sam grins. "Believe me, I know the feeling," he quips, remembering back to when Steve and Nat had shown up on his doorstep unexpectedly.

"Ms. Potts mentioned you had something for Melissa, but didn't mention exactly what."

"Oh," he says in surprise, having expected that Pepper would have explained everything to them. "After your wife told me about Natasha visiting your daughter, I thought maybe there might be some pictures, and that Melissa might like to have one of the two of them," Sam explains.

The man's eyes widen as his gaze darts to the envelope and then back to Sam. "There's pictures?"

Sam nods. "I just found the one, but I have a bunch more folders to go through, so it's possible there are more."

"That- That's really very kind of you. It's going to mean so much to her." Sam holds up the envelope to give to him, but the man doesn't take it. "Do you want to give it to her?" he offers instead.

"I, uh- Yeah, sure. If you don't mind, that is."

"Not at all. Please, have a seat," he says while gesturing to some couches in a room just off the foyer. "I'll go get my wife and Melissa."

Sam nods as he takes a seat. He glances around the room at pictures of the family, which appear to be mostly recent, except for some of Melissa as a toddler. Guess they missed out on some stuff, he muses. He begins to spin the envelope absently and only stops when he hears footsteps.

"Melissa, you remember Mr. Wilson from the other day?" the woman prompts as she guides her daughter into the room and shoots her a warm, reassuring smile.

"Please," he replies, holding up a hand, "call me Sam."

Melissa eyes him cautiously. He can see the familiarity in her gaze, but there's a healthy amount of trepidation too, which isn't surprising. He gets off the couch and squats down to be a little closer to her height, and hopefully less threatening. "Your mom told me about how my friend, Nat, had visited you while you were at the orphanage, and how you two got along pretty well." Melissa nods slowly. "Well, I know that the staff at those places had taken some pictures at some of the events, so I dug through the files and found this one, which I thought you might want to have," he says gently as he hands her the envelope.

She steps forward to take it and then very carefully opens it up and grabs the photo from inside. He watches her face as she pulls it out and sees the tears fill her eyes when she sees what it is.

"It's her," she whispers.

He nods. "Yeah, that's Nat."

"That was when she gave me my own comic book," she explains, voice still a whisper, "and she read to me and put me to bed." Sam smiles encouragingly, feeling his heart clench just a little at the sheer amount of reverence in the girl's tone. "This is for me?"

Sam nods. "I thought you might like to have something to help you remember her," he says, realizing that he should really find and print some photos of him and Nat together and put them up in his place.

"Thank you," she whispers as she hugs the picture to her chest tightly.

He smiles. "You're very welcome," he says as he stands up. "I won't take up any more of your day, I just wanted to pass that along."

"Thank you," Melissa's mother says, holding out a hand which he grips and shakes with a smile. "This is...really, thank you."

"We're still getting back on our feet, but we're going to be doing what we can to help out the organization that took care of her," her father adds, reaching a hand out to shake Sam's.

Sam smiles. "That's kind of you," he says, realizing that maybe this is part of Natasha's legacy too. She'd grown up in a place without love or comfort. But these kids had been cared for, and loved, thanks to Nat.

"It's not much, but we owe them and Ms. Romanoff a debt of gratitude for taking care of our little girl. I only wish I could thank her in person," the woman adds, eyes a bit misty.

Sam nods. "Me too," he says, wishing that Nat were here to accept their thanks, because she deserved to know that people had been appreciative of her efforts.

He leaves shortly after and opts to walk through the city a bit before he heads back out to the Compound.

He finds another tribute to Natasha and smiles widely. You see that, Romanoff? The people love you.

He chuckles as he imagines her response. Of course they love me, Sam. I'm me.

this one's been in the works since I wrote the Steve chapter where we first meet Melissa. originally that chapter was going to end with a jump forward a bunch of years and have Melissa as an established comic-book artist. ultimately I ended up adapting the idea for this one, and I enjoyed diving into Sam's thoughts here.

how'd you like Sam's anger? his meeting with Melissa? as always, please let me know your thoughts, comments, and/or feedback. it's always great to see what you think.

more to come...