Rounding out Whumptober with one last story! This one is in response to the prompts: No 1. A little out of the ordinary (adverse effects, unconventional restraints, "this wasn't supposed to happen"); No 17. Hanging by a threat (breaking point, stress positions, reluctant caretaker); No 31. A light at the end of the tunnel (comfort, bedside vigil, "you can rest now"). Set in the space between the ending of Infinity War and the beginning of Endgame. I've had a lot of fun participating this year, so I hope you guys enjoy this last installment!

Still don't own anything.


They stayed in Wakanda for two days after the snap, doing what they could to help. Which was to say, they weren't able to do much. The remaining members of the team gave press briefings, spoke to government officials, and tried to calm civilians, all while still reeling from their own losses. From their collective failure.

At the end of the second day, they boarded the quinjet back to New York to continue putting the pieces together.

Natasha usually enjoyed the jet rides. They were typically filled with some form of conversation, either mission planning or catching up. That and she enjoyed watching the clouds whiz by from so high up. Now, the jet was dead silent. Thor, who had scarcely said a word since people started turning to ash, was staring into space. Steve was holding his head in his hands and Bruce was catching a few hours of fitful sleep as they flew. All the space they crossed between Wakanda and New York was space missing half its residents.

This wasn't supposed to happen, she thought, not daring to voice it aloud as they came in over New York. She took the jet off autopilot and slowed down over the city before continuing upstate. Cars littered the streets, which were otherwise empty aside from the flashing red and blue lights of emergency personnel. Smoke plumes from fires dotted the sky.

Natasha pushed the jet towards the compound. It would be easier to deal with everything once they were back where they belonged. They'd find a way to fix this, get everybody back, and make Thanos pay. There was no other option.

After reminders were shared about the meetings they had to attend later, the group went their separate ways in the same oppressive, grief-stricken silence that had settled over the jet. Natasha supposed a similar dense fog was settling over the whole planet as they began to come to grips with what had happened.

She took a shower the minute she got to her room and turned the water on as hot as it would go. It was near scalding, but maybe that would help get off the imaginary pieces of ash she could feel clinging to her skin. All that was left of her friends.

She put a hand against the bathroom wall to steady herself when she got out as sick feeling washed over her. No time for that now. She couldn't afford to fall apart. She was stronger than this. She had to be.

Natasha pulled on jeans and a t-shirt and went to find one of her phones, since her primary burner had been destroyed in the battle and many of Wakanda's communications systems had gone down after the snap. She could only hope that in the last few days, crews had managed to return cell service to New York. She tapped her finger impatiently against the side of the phone as she waited for it to boot up.

Clint would be fine. Fifty percent of everyone wouldn't mean him, it couldn't. Just like it also wouldn't mean his family or Yelena or Melina or even Alexei. One person at a time.

The knot in her gut loosened when she saw signal bars and dozens of missed calls from a number she knew to be Clint's. She immediately dialed back, praying that his family was still alright. Really, what were the chances of all of them being okay? If Tony were here he could probably tell her the probability off the top of his head—

"Natasha?" Clint picked up on the first ring.

She let out a breath of relief and sat on the edge of her bed. "It's good to hear your voice. I'm sorry I didn't call sooner."

"Been busy?" Just from three words, she could tell he sounded absolutely wrecked.

"Something like that," she answered. Busy was an understatement. They were Sisyphus at the bottom of the hill with no idea how far they had to push the rock up, and even then it may still be futile. "How are Laura and the kids handling it?" She didn't leave room for the possibility that one of them could be gone, didn't even ask it.

There was a shaky inhale on the other end of the line. A vice began to tighten around Natasha's lungs. Clint cleared his throat, which she knew he only did when he was trying to buy himself a few seconds to either compose himself or cover a lie. Then there was dead air. "Clint?"

"They're gone, Nat," he finally said, and she could hear the crushing heartbreak and anger in his words. "All of them." Three words in quick succession followed by a cut-off sob.

All of them.

Not one. Not two. Not half his family. His whole family.

Natasha opened her mouth to say something, anything, but found she had nothing. The last piece of straw had been placed upon her back and she couldn't bear the weight. Her throat seemed to close around itself as quiet tears made their way down her cheeks. They failed, and Clint and his family and billions of other families had paid the price.

Eventually they were able to explain to each other what had happened. Clint detailed how one moment Lila had been there and the next there had been a cloud of what he had first thought were leaves, spiraling towards the ground. He said he'd called for them and then waited for the same thing to happen to him, but it didn't. He was just alone, on a quiet farm, with no idea what had happened until the news reports started pouring in.

Natasha filled him in on the details they hadn't released to the press. Details that Clint would've known if he'd been there with them, but he hadn't because he'd been with his family. Because he'd chosen a peaceful life to watch his kids grow up and be present for their milestones instead of chasing down mercenaries halfway across the globe. He'd bled and sacrificed so he could finally get his deserved break, and this was how the universe repaid him for it.

When they finally hung up, it took all of Natasha's willpower to not hurl her phone at the wall. She still clenched it as hard as she could between her hands until the plastic threatened to crack.

There was no answer when she called Yelena. So she tried again. And again. And again. And was met with the same cheery "please leave your message at the—" as if Yelena would be there to listen to her message when she got back from her errands or returned from a run. As if.

They needed to fix this. Now. And yet, she had no idea where they would even begin. Tony, probably their best bet at finding Thanos, was still MIA, if he wasn't floating dead in space somewhere. Sam, Wanda, Barnes, Vision, T'Challa, Shuri. How would they ever be able to defeat Thanos now that they were missing so many? How could they—

A hand on her shoulder made her jump. Through tear-filled eyes, she saw Steve crouched in front of her, one hand on her shoulder, the other holding a glass of water.

"Sorry," he said, and held out the glass to her. "You were late to the meeting and your door was open. I tried knocking."

Of course he did. Natasha sniffed and ran a hand under her eyes to get rid of the wetness. Her joints ached from clutching the phone so tightly for so long. How long had it been? She cleared her throat and took the glass, Steve dropping his hand from her shoulder as she did so. "Thanks," she said quietly, sounding about as wrecked as Clint had earlier. She didn't yet drink, but instead held the glass in her hands, finger running along the rim absentmindedly.

"Any news?" Steve asked, brow furrowed with worry.

Natasha took a shaky breath in and nodded. "Clint's alright. But his family is gone." She watched a spark of hope ignite in Steve's eyes before it was immediately snuffed out. His shoulders hunched as if a weight had been placed on them from above.

Steve pursed his lips. "All of them?"

Lila practicing her archery. The boys throwing a ball. Laura prepping hot dogs with mayonnaise of all things. Maybe the last moments Clint would ever spend with them. "All of them," she affirmed.

He let out a long sigh and his gaze dropped to the floor. He had changed into similar clothes as her, jeans and a dark blue Henley. She wondered if he could feel the phantom ash on his skin like she could. As she scrutinized him, she realized his eyes were red too, and not just from the news she'd just told him.

From everything, she guessed. But having his best friend vanish in front of his eyes definitely hadn't helped anything. Natasha imagined for a split second where her headspace would be if it had been Clint that disappeared in front of her. Something inside her went cold just at the thought. She took a few sips of the water, and, upon finding it didn't help, placed the glass on the nightstand.

Steve got up and went to stand by the window. The sun was just beginning to set, a brilliant backdrop of orange and red against the trees. "Anything from Tony?" he asked.

Natasha shook her head even though he was turned away from her and couldn't see. "Nothing." She looked over her shoulder towards Steve. His head was hanging, almost touching the window, his shoulders curled inward. "But that doesn't mean he's gone. Cell signal doesn't reach up to space, so…there's a possibility," Natasha tried, desperately wanting to believe it herself. She heard him take a shaky breath in and out before she got up off the bed to stand next to him.

"If he's out there, we'll find him," Steve said, jaw clenched with determination as he raised his head to look out at the trees. His eyes were hard and serious and terribly bloodshot. "Bring him back and figure out how to get everyone else back too. Whatever it takes."

Natasha nodded solemnly in agreement. If there was ever a worthy cause to go down fighting for, this was it.

Steve was still watching some point on the distant horizon. Natasha reached out and touched his hand, surprised to find his fingers somewhat cold. She held on, trying to tether them together to this horrific reality they'd been handed.

"I'm sorry about Barnes," she said honestly. She and Sam had seen firsthand the last few years how much of a toll Bucky's state had taken on Steve. First with him being refrozen, and then slowly building up to where he was able to live a peaceful life alone, of his own free will. Steve had overall been more solemn, his state only broken by brief days of happiness when he was able to visit Bucky to see how he was progressing. Then, slowly, he'd slip back into his quiet state. This was what was best for Bucky, and they all knew it, but that didn't mean it had been easy. It had been a rollercoaster, to say the least, even though Steve tried to hide it most of the time.

And, like Clint, that hard-won peace had been lost.

Steve's throat bobbed and he nodded in lieu of a verbal response.

That was all it took for Natasha to decide that the meeting could wait a few more minutes. She took half a step forward and wrapped her arms around Steve, feeling him tense for a second before he returned the hug. His arms completely enveloped her and she could hear his heart thudding in his chest. He still felt chilled, like he'd taken a cold shower and stood there, trying to wake up from this nightmare. Maybe that's exactly what he'd done.

She had to stand on her toes to make it work, but she didn't mind. Here, in this moment, they could just be. There were no reporters or politicians asking questions they didn't have answers to, no teammates looking to them for direction. They understood each other's quiet, shared grief with no need to talk it through further.

Natasha held him just a little tighter and Steve did the same.

Outside, the sun continued to set on a much quieter world.