Natasha stopped and stared at the contents of the latest box she'd pulled off the never-ending shelves. A circular shield with the distinctive red symbol on it. The Red Guardian's shield. Alexei's shield. Her almost father's shield. Natasha had never actually seen in before, but she'd heard all the stories of the exploits it had been involved in (including quite a few that she was sure had never happened). It wasn't the file they were looking for. No, this was far more… personal.
Natasha hadn't thought of Alexei or the rest of her Ohio family in years, and the memories swirling through her mind now trailed bittersweet feelings. Alexei had never wanted to be her father, always longing to go back to his shield-wielding days. On the other hand, he'd been a pretty good dad. Images flew through Natasha's mind like photos in an album long destroyed: Alexei telling ridiculously bad jokes, their little family gathering around the table for dinner, Alexei encouraging her and Yelena's belief in Santa Clause even though the saintly fairytale was the opposite of everything the Red Room endorsed. It was a life that had died years ago, filled with people who had probably perished only months ago in the blasts that destroyed the world.
Natasha lifted the shield, and its weight felt familiar despite the fact that she'd never held it before. It reminded her of another shield, another man, another family.
Steve Rogers had puzzled Natasha for months after they first met. She'd never met anyone who was genuinely that good and upstanding. She'd kept waiting for the façade to crack, but the harder she looked, the more she realized that it wasn't a façade; it was Steve's real character, strong and firmly built.
They should never have gotten along, the ex-KGB assassin and the American golden boy; it looked like a set up rife for suspicion and dislike. Yet, instead, they'd become close friends. He'd saved her life even when he had no obligation to, and, just as impactful to Natasha, he'd trusted her to do the same. They bantered and laughed and stuck together, and when she offered to be anyone, all he'd asked for was a friend, a relationship where he gave as much as he gained.
It was thanks to Steve that Natasha knew she could handle this weapon as effectively as one of her own. Almost without thinking she slung the shield over her back and felt the magnets connect. It was the practiced ease of the motion, a habit formed because of the friendship of a dead man, that brought on the stronger wave of grief. Natasha felt a weight in her chest, and the voice in her head that was always ready to remind her of what was lost got ready to smother her in its whispers. Strangely, the grief was stronger now than when she first saw the shield.
She shrugged, trying to dislodge the grip of her emotions. Despair and guilt weren't the way either shield-bearer had faced life. Steve's steadfast expression- the one saying he was ready to stand up to any brand of bully- and Alexei's gleeful face when he pounded his foes flashed through Natasha's mind, quickly followed by other faces- Tony, Laura, Yelena, Bruce, Cooper, Melina, Thor, Lila. There was a certain kind of poetry in the fact that she stood at the end of the world with a shield on her back that stood for the legacies of both her families. And Clint was here too, the one who'd bridged the gap and brought Natasha from the Red Room to Shield, whose capture had brought her into the Avengers. Nothing was left of the world, yet somehow all of her was standing with her.
Natasha shook her head at herself, ignoring the extra blinking she needed to do. This was no time for sentimentality. She turned to tease Clint, ready to put her emotions away and get back to saving the world. Somewhere above, her families smiled.