MCU (c) Marvel Studios

Goodnight to an old soul. Goodbye to life once lived. This is my island now, to live it once more. Not long now;this time, this weightless fall, the calming mothers call.Back in time; I'm cleansed and bare and I see the light. Now I know… — Auri

Steve took his time in reaching the Barton house. The sun had set, the final rays bleeding at the edge of the western horizon, magenta and gold fading into lilac and indigo until it turned into an inky black, stars peeking out like a bucket of diamonds God had tipped over onto black velvet. The last time he saw such a sight was in the wilds of Europe, shivering around a fire with Bucky and the Commandos as they swapped childhood stories. He found the familiar constellations, remembering his mother telling him their stories.

A mournful howl of a wolf echoed across the landscape, a pack of coyotes cackled, and the wind whispered through the dry grass, ruffling his hair and pricking its way to his skin; tinged with an Artic chill, scented with pine and icy mountain peaks and the fading warmth of summer. The crickets chirped, filling the night with their melody accompany by the harmony of croaking frogs. The wolf howled again, it's called answered by others of its pack. He never heard a more lonesome cry. It was how he felt. Even after all these years in this new time, with Natasha (and the Avengers) by his side. He still felt alone, adrift… lost in time. The stars twinkled. Bruce told him that the light seen from Earth have been traveling lightyears to get here, it was an old light and the star it originated from could already be dead. It was strange, feeling a kinship with the stars, who in a sense, were just as lost in time as he was.

"What are you doing out here?" Natasha asked. He gave a little jerk, snorting at the amused smile on her lips. "Must be really lost in thought if I could sneak up on you of all people."

"Don't get used to it," he quipped, mustering a smile for her sake. He felt as if the paradigm of their relationship had shifted ever since he confessed he still loved Peggy. He saw… sorrow, in her eyes. It made his heart ache and his hand tightened further around the compass in his pocket.

"C'mon, Laura has dinner ready. Everyone is waiting for you." She looped her arm through his and gave a little tug. He looked back up at the stars. "Steve."

"Last time I saw stars like this I was huddled around a campfire in the Alps. It was a few days before I…" he blinked back the tears, his throat tightening. He hated his memory at times. All his mistakes would replay in slow motion. He remembered the sound of the train over tracks, the bite of icy wind against his cheeks, hearing the handlebar creaking and giving way, reaching for Bucky's hands and the desperate look in his friend's eyes — a mix of fear and faith — Bucky's scream as he fell into the icy chasm below. He closed his eyes at that, pulling away from Natasha as a shudder passed through his body. He had to remind himself Bucky was alive, he had survived only to be twisted into a killing machine by Hydra. "I'm sorry," he finally croaked out.

"If you want to go back to the barn, I'll just tell Clint you need a moment. He'll understand."

"I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm—"

"It's alright," she said. "It catches up to you sooner or later." She gave a little shrug. "Sometimes it just takes longer for others than for some."

"It's not like I haven't" — he swallowed and ran a hand through his hair — "just with… everything."

"I get it, Steve. I've been there. So, has Clint. We aren't going to judge you. Both of us have done and seen more than anyone has. Been through hell more times than we care to admit. I get it. If you need a moment, take it. I'll bring you some leftovers later if you want."

"It's just that I… I can't — I need—" he took several calming breaths. In the early days after the Battle of New York, Fury had latched an army of psychiatrists onto him. To assist and assesses how he was dealing with suddenly waking up almost seventy years in the future and understanding that everything he knew (and everyone he loved) is no more. He took everything in stride, though he found it difficult to just fall back into formation, take orders and march along like a good little soldier. In the seventy years since his freezing, the world had shifted from war between armies to war between spies. For a soldier it was a difficult adjustment.

The fall of Shield, learning Bucky was alive yet twisted into a monster, Sokovia, the Accords and fighting Tony and then going on the run.

Falling in love with Natasha…

All served to wear down the barriers his mind had built to protect his fragile psyche from the literal shock and awe of the entire experience. Now it was cracking. He had taken refuge in the blissful lie that once he did whatever mission he had to do in this time he could go back. He could go back and stop the Red Skull before he got onto the Valkyrie and live the life he was supposed to have, with Peggy, with the family he was supposed to have with her.

Natasha was somehow taller than him and it took him a moment to realize that he was sitting on the ground, shaking. He couldn't stop shaking. "Steve?" Natasha knelt before him, hands on his face, fingers threading through his beard. "Steve, are you alright? Deep breaths Steve. Deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth." She demonstrated. He followed her lead, listening to her voice and concentrated on the rhythmic breathing. "That's it. That's it. Focus on me."

"Nat—"

"Shh, no talking, just breathe." She smiled at him, and the look she gave him broke his heart. She shouldn't be here with him. They were too different, from two different worlds. She was a spy, and he was a soldier. He pulled away, getting up on shaky legs. "Steve, you should sit down, get yourself—"

"No. I'm fine," he said. "I'm sorry, Nat, but I can't… I can't be what you want, what you need." He stared at the dead grass, shivering a bit, though if it was form the cold or his fear he wasn't sure. "You deserve someone better than me." I'm nothing more than a broken old man out of time.

She gave a weak laugh. "I'm supposed to say that," she said, trying to make light of the situation. He gave her a leveled look and watched her swallow. Peggy would want him to live his life, he knew that, hell he even dreamt it. But he couldn't let her go. Letting her go would mean he'd never get a chance to go back and that thought terrified him. And if the only way he could protect himself was by breaking his heart and Natasha's… well, Bucky told him he was an idiot for even agreeing to Project: Rebirth in the first place. "Steve."

Her pleading tone broke his heart; his jaw tightened. "I'm sorry," he repeated, and he took a step back, turning around and heading towards the barn, to the jet and the darkness, where his memories and nightmares dwelled along with the ghost of a dead woman whom he loved, the dead dream he refused to relinquished. Please Nat… call my name, say something, come after me. He kept walking.

His named died in her throat as reality sunk in; her hesitant hand going up to reach for him only to fall back to her side as his form go smaller and darker the further he went from her. She thought she had a broken heart when Alexei died, when Bruce left her, when she had to leave Bucky snuggled in their bed.

It was only now, upon realizing what Steve had meant did she realize she never had a broken heart before. It was raw agony. She felt like screaming and crying and destroying everything, but most of all, she felt like destroying herself, for if she hurt herself enough maybe the pain in her heart would stop. "He just needs some time," she told herself. "He told me he loved me… and this… this is a little much for him. Yes. A little much. Just give him some space." She nodded; and bit her lip and allowed a few tears to fall before she wiped them away. She put her mask back on as she went back towards the house.

Inside the Barton household, it was warm and filled with love. Clint was halfway to the door, with the intent of finding them. "Where's Steve?"

"He's having a moment," she said, and shared a knowing look with him. He nodded. "I told him we'll save him some dinner."

"Of course," he agreed and lead her to the table, where she sat between Lila and Cooper. Nathaniel was in his highchair between his parents, yammering away as he tried to feed himself. He couldn't be more than two or three. She couldn't remember. Clint got her a glass of water before sitting down. "Dig in everyone," he said, and everyone began passing plates around: Laura dishing out the pot pie, Clint plopping garlic mash potatoes on plates, and she put green beans on the plates. Everyone soon had food and were eating.

She smiled, laughing at all the right moments for the stories Cooper and Lila told. Teasing Clint and siding with Laura when she regaled her with some tale about how he was a terrible husband. Putting on a mask of mock offense when he took a jab at her. She felt loved, accepted, a part of the family. It was so easy to imagine the scenario different: her home she built with Steve, their own family, Clint's family over for the holidays or just to visit, more laughter and more stories shared, warm smiles and full bellies. Paradise. She never thought such a life was for her, but when Clint had taken her to see his family for the first time, and how his children accepted her to readily and so easily, it broke down some walls she built. Loving Steve broke even more walls.

"Auntie Nat, are you okay?" Lila asked. She smiled at the little girl, ruffling her hair.

"Of course, it's just been a long day," she said, and tried not to imagine a daughter of her own, with Steve's expressive blue eyes and blond hair coupled with her curls; giggling as Steve played airplane with her, holding in his strong protective arms.

"Are you sure?" Lila pressed again. She nodded and looked at her half eaten dinner, she could feel everyone eyes on her. "You didn't finish your pot pie, Mommy tells us we have to finish our plates otherwise no dessert."

"Well, I'm a bad girl. I don't get dessert," she said and tweaked Lila's nose. "But you better, I heard dessert involves chocolate."

"Don't you love chocolate?"

"Not as much as you do," she said and for show she ate a few more bites, even though the food tasted like ash in her mouth. The meal's joy evaporated after that as everyone quietly ate, until Laura declared that Cooper and Lila were to watch their little brother and Clint was to take a plate out to Steve.

"Help me with the dishes?" Laura asked. She nodded, gathering the dishes and scrapping the uneaten food onto a plate before taking the stack to the kitchen sink. They cleared the table in silence; she scrapped the plates into the chicken slop beneath the skin, rinsed them and put them into the dishwasher. Laura started to pack away the food. "What's up."

"The stars."

"Ha. Ha. My son and husband tell the same joke," Laura said, snapping lids into place and stacking food filled tupperwear. "When they are trying to not tell me something."

"Nothing's wrong Laura," she insisted as she began washing the pots and pans. "It's just been a long day."

"That may work on Lila and Clint, but it's not gonna work on me," the other woman declared and began putting the food in the fridge. She rolled her eyes, washing the dishes. Her mind wandered, the task was mindless, and she began to build the little fictional family in her head that she would have liked to have with Steve if she could (and things between them hadn't taken such a weird turn). Two children, a boy and a girl. One would have her red hair, and the other his blond. One with her green eyes and the other with his blue. They'd laugh and do family things and Steve would take to fatherhood like a fish took to water. Their pasts wouldn't haunt them, and their dreams would be filled with the sound of their children's laughter. She could even see her fictional daughter's wedding, Steve in his military uniform, walking their beautiful daughter down the aisle; the image made her heart swell with pride and joy. "Natasha you've been scrubbing the same spot on that pan for fifteen minutes."

"Oh, uh…" she made a few quick passes with the scrub-sponge and then rinsed the pan and set in the drainboard, going to the next one. "Sorry," she mumbled.

"What's wrong? Nothing's ever gotten you this rattled."

"It's… personal, I don't—"

"Is it your past?" She shook her head. "Bruce leaving?" Again, she shook her head. "The Accords? Clint getting involved? The Avengers?"

"No. No, nothing like that."

"I can't tell what is if you don't talk to me." She put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Natasha. We've been friends for how many years? You've been Clint's partner for how long? You can trust me."

"I know, and it's not that I don't—" she stopped, unsure how to explain it to Laura. Laura didn't exactly have experience in dealing with loving a man out of time. "It's Steve." The fact that Laura was her friend and Clint's wife spared her, but only just. "Don't grin like that."

"I always felt that you and Bruce were kinda toxic. Like two rapid dogs trying to be friends but kept biting at each other."

"Yeah, yeah. Self-loathing coupled with self-loathing isn't a foundation for a healthy relationship, I got it." She began tackling the pot pie pan, taking her frustration out on stubborn stuck on crust. It helped if she imagined it was Steve's face. "Don't need the lecture, Mom."

"Funny"— Laura shot her a grin — "considering I am one." They laughed at that, the tension easing. "You know, when you guys came to visit that one time, the way Steve kept looking at you… I dare say he was pining."

"Pining? Please." She buzzed her lips like a horse.

"He looked at you the way Clint looked at me when we were dating. Something pure and untouchable and if he were to reach out and touch it, the purity would be soiled." Laura smirked. "Also, you two were flirting so causally with each other."

She flushed. "Idiot, he knows I'm not exactly an angel of purity." She worked harder at the stubborn stuck on stuff. "I made that very clear when we had to deal with Hydra."

"Oh he knows, trust me, he knows," Laura said drying the cleaned dishes. "That doesn't change the fact about how he sees you."

"Well he's stopped now."

"Is that why he wasn't at dinner?"

"What does it matter? He still got food," she grumbled. "We'll be outta your hair in a few days."

"Nat."

"It's better like this, Laura," she whispered, abandoning the sponge for the steel wool. It had a greasy funky feel in her hand, and a strange metallic rotting smell as well. Laura needed to replace it. She attacked the stubborn spots on the pot pie pan with it all the same. "Trust me."

"Is it really?"

"Why wouldn't it be? We have a good friendship, don't need to muck it up with love." The steel wool made a scratchy sound against the metal of the glass pan. "I'm Black Widow. Black Widow doesn't love. Black Widow is cold and emotionless. Black Widow only has targets." Black Widow doesn't have love, Black Widow doesn't have a husband, Black Widow doesn't have children, a family. Black Widow only has targets. She ground her teeth to prevent the tears from falling. Natasha Romanoff only has—

"Black Widow yes, but" — Laura put a hand on her arm, stilling her and drawing her gaze — "is Natasha Romanoff like that?"

No. No, she's not. She is just as human as everyone else and she can't understand why her heart is breaking. "Natasha Romanoff and Black Widow are one and the same." The lie came easy, she had believed it for so long.

"Really? Could've fooled me," Laura said and bumped her hip against hers. She scowled, but it was half-hearted. "I think Natasha Romanoff wants what everyone else wants. Love, friends, family, a place to call home, someone to come home to." Laura glanced at her. "Someone to build a home with."

I want that. All of it, I want to have that with Steve. She bit her lip, staring at th soapy water. "He's Captain America."

"Clint's Hawkeye. That doesn't change the fact that beneath Hawkeye is a man, just like any other, with the same hopes and desires as the rest of us."

"Black Widow and Captain America aren't—"

"Clint should have never fell for a simple farm girl, but he did." She smiled. "He found you when we were having a rough spot. I think he had feelings for you, but he'd never admit it. Then he realized that everything he wants was with me. You were friendly, but distant, kind but snarky about it."

"Thank you, for telling me I'm the reason Clint pulled his head outta his ass and popped the question to you," she snapped.

"Nat—"

She swallowed. "I'm sorry, Laura. I know you're just trying to help, but my problem is different. Steve is in love with a dead woman. A dead dream. I thought… he said he loved me… we… we… I took his virginity."

"He's a virgin?" Laura's eyes popped out of her skull. "Steve Rogers's a virgin?"

"Was," she corrected, and allowed a smug smile on her face. "Was a virgin." It dropped as quickly as it appeared.

"Wait until I tell Clint. He's never gonna let Steve live that down."

"Don't," she hissed. "Don't you dare tell Clint." She licked her lips. "Please."

"Fine." Laura gave her a smile. "Since you asked nicely.

She rolled her eyes. "Then Bucky — his friend — told him about my past relationship with him. Which opened up a whole new can of worms, and I guess made Steve realize that he can't let go of his old love." She rubbed her forehead. "Or maybe he never could and my past with Bucky just… made him see sense. It doesn't matter anyway how it happened, he chose his old love over me." Saying it out loud made her realize how much it hurt. "He chose a dead woman over me." She threw the steel wool at the water. She leaned into Laura's chest when the other woman's arms wrapped around her. "I love him, Laura. I wish I can make it stop, but I can't."

"It's going to get better Nat. Trust me. He can't keep living in the past."

"He's sure damn determine to." She held Laura tighter. "I want to hate him but… I can't," she mumbled. There was an awkward cough, she and Laura looked over at the door way into the kitchen. Steve and Clint stood there. Steve had a guilty expression on his face, and she knew that he heard what she had mumbled to Laura.

"Plate, sorry it's late," Clint said, walking over to them and setting it by the sink. "I'm going to show Cap—"

"Steve, please, Clint," Steve said. "I don't feel much like Captain America."

"To the attic room."

"Oh, let me go get the bed set up then, haven't done it yet," Laura said and patted her on the shoulder. "Watch the kids, I think their program is ending."

"Sure," Clint said with a nod and went into the other room. Natasha went back to washing the dishes while Steve sat down. The silence was tense between them, broken only by the sounds of clinking dishes and splashing water. She watched him watch her via the reflection in the window. She wanted to scream at him, get him to react, instead of staring at her with those damn puppy eyes of his.

"Are you feeling better?" she asked. He nodded.

"That's good," she said and went back to her task, dealing with his final dish. She turned the dishwasher on and began to wipe down the countertops, feeling his eyes on her with each movement.

"Look, Nat, I'm—"

"It's fine Steve," she cut him off, "I get it. You're not ready. I was pushing you and—"

"You don't understand! She was my—"

"No, it's alright," she said, turning to face him. "You don't need to explain it to me, Steve." She went back to cleaning.

"You're acting like I want to end our relationship." He said, closing the gap between them. He touched her shoulder and it sent lightning down her nerves. She turned, staring at him.

"Well, isn't that what you want?" She asked, the pain burning in her chest. "You want to go back to Peggy, even though Peggy's dead. That dream you had, the one with her in it, it's dead Steve. Wake up and realize that, it died the day you went into the ice!"

He flinched. "Don't you think I know that?" he asked, his voice icy. "It was my choice, I did what I had to do and—"

"Then why are you still hung up about it? If it was your choice after all," she snipped, watching as his hands balled into fists. She swallowed, waiting for him to react but he must've realized she had a point for he unclenched his fists, leaning against the counter, unable to face her.

"I… I don't know," he said. "Everything felt… different when we were on the run." He looked at her, a sad broken expression on his face. "I still loved Peggy, still thought about her, but… it was so easy to get caught up in the moment. Made it a good way not to die."

"It did," she agreed. They didn't have time to think about their past when they were on the run. It had been focused, narrowed: protect Wanda, protect Sam, protect each other. Get the op done, move to the next hiding spot. Back then, she still wasn't sure if what she felt for Steve was love or friendship all she knew was that she wanted him to be closer to her and she wanted to be in his life. Being on the run was all about survival and that brought out raw instinct, primal emotions like love and fear. Their almost kiss in Berlin, him holding her after her nightmare in Armenia. "You said you loved me."

"I did, yes and I still—"

"In my dream," she said, realizing that the floor was more interesting than his face. Laura needed to wash it, she could see sticky juice spots. Maybe she could do that for Laura in the coming days. "Back in Armenia." It was only a few months ago, but it seemed like a life time ago. "You wanted to be so much more than just my friend and I pushed you away. I was so scared."

"I remember," he said, closing the gap between them a bit more. "You were hurt and had been captured. Even after I told you to fall back."

"I got those civilians out—"

"You could've gotten yourself killed—"

"But I didn't!" she said, moving to the side, she locked his gaze with his. "And I took out Zima, who was behind the entire thing—"

"We would've gotten him without you risking your life—"

"And how long would that have taken us?" she asked, she was close enough to him now that their toes were touching, her head angled up to look at him, his tilted down to stare at her. "Another month? A year?"

"Answer the question you want to ask, Romanoff."

"Don't call me that, Rogers," she said, eyes flashing, "you said so yourself that puts distance between us."

"Maybe I want distance between us."

She smirked, feeling his hands on her forearms. He was the first to bridge the gap. "We're like parallel lines. Always close, never together."

"Until one reaches out and touches the other," he said, eyes fixed on his hands, before looking at her face. The pain and struggle she saw in his eyes, it was tearing him in two and it would come to the point for him to choose between the dead dream he clung to or her.

With a flick of her ankles, she was in en pointe and tall enough to reach his lips. She kissed him, soft and fleeting, settling back on her feet just as fast as she had kissed him. The shock on his face made her heart flutter. "Choose wisely," she whispered, stepping to the side and going back to cleaning.

"Steve," Laura reappeared with a towel and some musty smelling pjs. "Here's a towel and some of Clint's old pjs that he doesn't wear anymore."

"I don't think they'll fit, but thank you," he said, accepting them.

"If they don't fit, I can uh… see if I can't find something," she said, scratching her head awkwardly.

"It's fine, I can sleep in the nude," he said and Natasha felt his gaze on her. "So long as I have someone to keep me warm."

She choked on her spit and heard Laura make a weird strangled sound like a dying cat. "Steve," Natasha croaked.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that," Laura muttered and left to check on her kids, face red. She watched the exchange through via the window's reflection as she rung out the rag; her cheeks felt hot and she wondered how they'll ever keep their hands off each other. Laura came back and informed Steve where the attic room was and the bathroom. He thanked her again walked off. "I don't want to hear anything," she said. She laughed, looking at Laura. "I'm serious Natasha. The attic room is right above the master bedroom. It creaks, I don't want to hear noises."

"I promise to send down some earplugs for you and Clint before if Steve and I get it on tonight," she said and winked. Laura shook her head.

"So, what did you tell him?" Laura asked.

"To choose wisely."

I kinda wanted this chapter to be longer, but I feel like this is a good place to end. Chapters should be coming more regularly now that I'm done with school, but I'll be job hunting so yay stress! XD

I have no idea where this story is heading or how it'll end.

I love Infinity War. Steve and Nat together is just… wonderful.

Thank you to my silent readers! Leave a kudos in the comments.

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Nemo et Nihil