See You In A Minute
PART II
The team of four were hardly noticeable amidst the violent landscape of Morag as they touched down. Even if there had been an onlooker, they probably would never have been seen. Especially not in the chaos around them, against the cataclysmic waves crashing against the jagged rocks, set under an oppressive, grey sky.
The quartet adjusted themselves, gaping around at the alien landscape. They turned back to each other, noticing for the first time the rogue member of their group.
Someone who definitely wasn't Natasha Romanoff.
"What the hell?" Clint sputtered as he saw Steve Rogers standing in what should have been Natasha's space by his side. The man himself remained stoic, deactivated his Quantum suit, allowing it to peel back and reveal what he had been hiding underneath. A new and improved variation of his Captain America uniform adorned with scales running along the broad side of his torso and shoulders - a far cry from the tight, garish outfit he was supposed to be wearing for his trip to New York, 2012.
"Let's get going," he announced. He turned to walk away, only to be blocked by Clint pushing back at him, a hand shoving against his chest.
"Cap, this wasn't the plan," Clint growled.
"I changed the plan."
"What about Nat? Where'd she go?"
"She's with the New York team."
Clint's eyes widened, his frown deepening.
"She's not briefed for New York," he exclaimed, "you jeopardised the whole mission!"
"She planned New York," Steve admonished. "She more than knows what she's doing."
"And you?" Clint retorted.
"I know as much about Vormir as you do," Steve replied tersely. "As much as she did."
Clint scowled at him, nowhere near satisfied with his answer.
Steve swivelled on his foot, glancing back at the others in the group, who had been silent up until now.
"And what about you two?"
Rhodey looked extremely uncomfortable, his face contorted into a worried expression.
"I don't know, Steve," he responded, "this doesn't feel right."
Steve's gaze then moved to Nebula, who had suddenly become rather withdrawn and, judging by her body language, extremely nervous. She was hiding something, he could tell. Something big.
"What are you not telling us?" he asked her firmly. She glanced at him, meeting his stare for only a second, then hastily looked away. Steve sighed. "Fine. Let's go before we're seen. We'll meet you back at the compound… right?"
He aimed that last word pointedly at Nebula, who merely nodded distractedly.
"Right," she agreed carefully.
"Take care," Steve ordered, clapping them both on the shoulder, "both of you."
His calm confidence managed to at least bestow some comfort to the two of them, as he saw their mood lighten just a little. Even Nebula made an effort to look him in the eye once again.
"You too," Rhodey answered for the both of them, patting Steve's outstretched arm jovially. Or at least, as jovially as he could manage, given the circumstances.
The Captain gave his two teammates his best smile and sent them on their way.
"This isn't like you," Clint stated as Rhodey and Nebula departed, waiting until the two of them were far enough away to be out of earshot. "You never go back on a plan."
Steve fixed him with a weary look.
"I've done it plenty of times unless you've forgotten."
"Not like this," Clint protested, before suddenly pausing. A light switched on behind his eyes. "You didn't want Nat to go to Vormir."
Steve's face remained blank.
"No," he eventually replied. "Come on, we're wasting time."
"This wasn't smart," Clint sighed as he began to follow him, pulling out the miniature Benatar out of his pouch, ready to transport them to the other side of the galaxy.
"Probably not," Steve agreed, "but don't tell me you'd rather Natasha were here."
"No," Clint replied. "Of course not."
"Then we're agreed," Steve said conclusively.
"I wouldn't call it that exactly," Clint remarked under his breath, knowing that Steve would hear it. Not that Steve cared. All that mattered to him was that Natasha wasn't here in his place. She was in someplace far more familiar, somewhere hopefully safer than whatever they were about to face on Vormir.
He could only hope that Natasha's improvisational skills were a good as she claimed.
Meanwhile, on a planet far away, two years before any of this happened, yet occurring in tandem, Natasha Romanoff was fuming.
That blonde-haired, blue-eyed, perfect jawline, 100-year-old son of a bitch had switched their wrist bands, right under her nose. And worse, she hadn't even noticed until it was too late. Now, Steve had undoubtedly taken her place on the mission to Vormir while she was stuck trying to pick up the pieces of the New York operation.
All because he thought it was up to him to decide what dangers she faced as if she were a little girl that couldn't handle the big wide world on her own. When they got back to the compound, she was going to show Steve Rogers exactly what she thought of that idea.
But right now, they had more pressing matters to attend to, mainly how the hell they were going to pull off this heist. With Rogers gone, the part of the plan pertaining to the sceptre had been thrown into flux. Initially, it was the Captain's job to secure the mind stone, wearing his own disguise to blend in and steal the object right back from the S.T.R.I.K.E. team that had been sent to secure it. Rogers had the advantage of his pristine reputation, his penchant for truth and honesty. That was something Natasha definitely did not have - she had a completely different kind of reputation.
The kind that might just work as well, if she played her cards right.
Natasha scanned the street in front of her, paining up to Stark Tower, looming over them, taunting them. Inside that building lay two infinity stone, the two items they needed to save the world. All they had to do was take them, hopefully without being seen.
Natasha could do this in her sleep.
"So what the hell do we do now?" Natasha heard Lang asked from behind her.
"We're the Avengers," she replied as if the answer was obvious. "We adapt."
A kaleidoscope of unearthly light flashed past the windscreen, glowing with an intensity that set Steve's eyes alight with wonder. From his place on the front seat, he looked past the vortex of subspace, out into the open expanse beyond, watching as the stars flew past him at dazzling speed.
It was beautiful - a sight he never thought he'd see once in his lifetime, let alone twice. It was all enough to make him feel like a child again, staring out into the night sky, wondering what was beyond the endless black and twinkling lights.
Steve glanced to his side, smiling when he saw Clint similarly transfixed.
"You okay?" he asked, breaking the other man out of his trance.
"This is my first time in space," he noted with a hint of awe.
"This is my second," Steve confessed with a grin, laughing softly to himself.
"Does it get old?" Clint asked, failing to keep a similarly broad smile off of his face.
Steve looked out to the world around him, watching at the ship pushed its way past endless miles of stars and planets and suns, all flashing by faster than he can adequately process. It looked like something out of a dream; colour and beauty and majesty in its purest form.
"Not yet."
Getting into Stark Tower was a breeze. Natasha had broken into many facilities in her time. There were only so many ways one could make a lock, and a dozen more ways that lock could be broken. Natasha had tried most them during her career as a super-spy, and she wasn't going to be beaten by whatever Tony Stark could conjure.
Actually procuring the sceptre was the going to be the main challenge. Natasha knew that she couldn't just steal it, not in the way she was used to. It would raise too many questions, and for someone like her, who saw and heard pretty much everything, the theft of the sceptre was something she knew her younger self would be onto in a jiffy. The last thing she needed was to contend with herself, especially since that was something that never occurred in the first place - or at least, Natasha certainly didn't remember it happening. A change to the timeline on that scale could have catastrophic events.
It was lucky, then, that her past self was on the opposite side of the building, out of the way for now. Natasha estimated that she had an approximately five-minute gap to steal the sceptre before her past self figured out that something was wrong, along with everyone else. Best not to waste time, then.
The doors of the elevator opened, and Natasha Romanoff was standing just in front of them, putting on her best smile.
"Hello, boys," she greeted merrily.
There was a moment where the group of men, standing shoulder-to-shoulder in the elevator, didn't seem to recognise her. Natasha forced herself to remain calm, so as not to give anything away. She had to look normal - or as normal as was possible. If the new outfit wasn't enough, her new ponytail tipped with blonde was sure to raise suspicion. Then again, she wasn't here to make them feel comfortable. She was here to make them sweat.
"Romanoff," Rumlow nodded after a short pause, his gaze licking her body, taking her in.
The super spy gestured to the case in his hands, unfazed.
"I'm gonna need that sceptre for a minute."
Rumlow scoffed, gripping the case tighter, swinging it behind his leg.
"I'm afraid that can't happen."
Natasha's smiled turned predatory.
"I wasn't asking."
Natasha noticed nervous fidgeting in the edges of her vision. The S.T.R.I.K.E. operatives glanced at each other out of the side of their eye. She could feel their hands inching towards their firearms, a few grasping their batons in what they thought was a menacing fashion.
And all while Natasha merely stood there, her arms crossed, daring any of them to try it.
"Anyone wanna get out?" she asked, flashing another pretty grin, her eyebrows raised casually. Not one of them moved. "Good."
Her stare fell to Rumlow who, realising he was outclassed, reluctantly reached forward, handing her the case containing the sceptre. Natasha took it, clutching it tightly, her insides jumping victoriously. She had done it.
"Thanks, boys. Have fun."
Then she stepped back, allowing the elevator to shut completely.
Natasha breathed a sigh of relief, allowing herself a sincere, satisfied grin. Morons. She turned, pacing down the hallway with her new bounty, a new-found bounce to her step.
"Sceptre secure," she announced softly into her comm. "How's the cube coming?"
"Working on it," came Tony's hushed reply.
It was a few moments later before she heard him again. This time it was good news.
"Good job," Tony relayed. If that meant what she thought it meant, then he had the cube. Their mission was nearly over. Natasha rolled her eyes affectionately. "Meet me in the alley, I'm gonna grab a quick slice-"
A loud crash came from the other side of the comms. A few scuffles. She could hear a commotion coming from downstairs.
"Tony?" Natasha called. "Tony, respond!"
There was a pregnant lull in the radio before someone responded.
"That wasn't supposed to happen, was it?" The uncertainty in Lang's voice did nothing for her nerves.
"What? What wasn't supposed to happen?" she called urgently.
"No," Tony groaned in reply, "No, we blew it."
Natasha's stomach flipped.
"Tony, what's going on?" she urged as she rounded the corner onto the walkway. "Have you secured the Tesseract? When should we-"
Natasha's eyes flitted upwards for barely a moment and met bright blue. Her stride came to an abrupt halt, her eyes widening as she came face to face with the one person she didn't want to see. The man narrowed his eyes, gripping his red, white and blue vibranium shield, squaring up to her as he blocked her path.
Natasha could only sigh wearily.
"Oh, shit."
"You're not Romanoff," a younger Steve Rogers quickly deduced. "What are you doing with that sceptre?"
Natasha sighed, realised that it was too late to run.
"See," she began, bending down to set the case on the glass floor at his feet, "it's kinda hard to explain."
Then, without warning, she swung the metal case upwards as hard as she could. It bludgeoned the younger Steve's chin with a loud clang. He staggering, only for a moment, but long enough to allow Natasha a swift kick to his stomach. As Steve doubled over, she leapt, mounting his head, wrapping her legs around it and twisting her body. The resulting action sent them toppling to the floor.
He struggled, his mask tore away, allowing her a full view of his face. He looked so young, even now. So inexperienced, Natasha noted thankfully. She doubted she would have stood a chance against her Steve, not with everything she had taught him over the years.
Natasha stood over him, quickly preparing her widows bites for a knockout shock when she felt a foot collide with her leg, sweeping them out from under her. Just as suddenly, he was on top of her, holding her arms behind her back, pinning her legs beneath his knee.
"Come on, Rogers, at least try to hurt me," she groaned.
"What?"
Natasha covertly pressed the finger of her bent arm again the side of her bracer, sending a taser shot straight into the younger Steve's looming body. He folded over, grimacing as his muscles constricted against the shock. His hands loosened just enough for Natasha to swivel, clocking him with a sideswipe that sent him rolling. His shield was forgotten, sitting just out of reach.
Natasha hurriedly rose to her feet, mirroring the younger Steve as the two came at each other. She was just faster, landing hit after hit against him, but he was far more powerful. One hit was all it took to send her flying, followed up by a kick which barely missed her. Natasha gripped his leg, bring her elbow down onto his kneecap in what should have been a knee cap-breaking hit. Instead, Natasha brought her elbow down onto what felt like a piece of concrete. She cringed as a shot of pain rushed up through her arm. Steve meanwhile looked entirely nonplussed, his leg remaining rigid against her attack.
He reached down and grabbed her by the collar of her jump-suit. He hauled her against the side of the balcony, the railing digging into her back, forcing her to fold over.
"I can do this all day," he growled, his superhuman strength ensuring that she couldn't move an inch
Natasha struggled against him, trying to rip his arms away from her to no effect. Steve remained steadfast, clasping her suit and pushing her firmly against the railing.
"Now, I'm gonna ask you one more time," he warned, "who are you? And what do you want with the sceptre?"
"Watch the hands there, soldier," Natasha groaned. His eyes widened a fraction, his head tilting in confusion. His attention pulled away from her hands, she plunged her batons into his abdomen. The tips jabbed right into the fresh, bloody wound he had received only an hour before.
Steve cried out in pain, his arms instinctively reaching for her batons, allowing her a clean hit to his head. He tumbled, curling inwards, retreating just enough to allow her a beeline for his abandoned shield. Just as he was about to rise to his full height again, Natasha swung the broad face on the disc straight into his face. A loud clang rang through the area, and Steve collapsed, falling to the walkway in a heap.
"Sorry," Natasha smirked, "I meant mine."
Before he could recover, she produced a roll of wire, quickly tying Steve's hands behind his back and wrapping his legs together. It made an adequate restraint, but it wouldn't last. It would take him a while before he broke out, just enough time for her to escape.
Natasha almost felt guilty, having to do this to someone she trusted, to someone who really didn't deserve it. He was just doing what he thought was right - she'd be more disappointed if he let her go. Still, it had to be done, for the sake of half the universe.
"I'll make it up to you," she promised slyly, reaching down to press a soft kiss on the side of his cheek, as much for this Steve as it was for her's. Then, without another word, Natasha picked up the case containing the sceptre and ran to the nearest elevator, leaving the younger Steve to struggle against his bindings.
"I've got the sceptre," she announced into her earpiece as she exited Stark tower a few minutes later. "Tell me some good news, boys."
"I've got the time stone. Heading back to the rendezvous point," Bruce responded.
"Good job, Bruce," she replied. "Be there in five minutes. Tony? Scott? Talk to me."
It was a moment before she heard Tony's clipped answer.
"Yeah, we have a problem on that front."
They reached Vormir amid evening darkness. The sun had been blotted out by a layer of thick cloud, casting the planet-side in shadow, with only the towering monolith in the distance escaping into the heavens.
Both Steve and Clint knew as soon as they saw it that it was the answer to their quest. They travelled the climb to the peak in relative silence, only speaking to reassure each other of their progress. It took them another half hour to fully scale the towering rock face. Somehow, the fact that there was a convenient set of steps carved into the rock did little to ease their anxieties.
This was where Thanos murdered his daughter. Whatever resided here, whatever test lay in front of them, it was not to be taken lightly.
"You need a minute?" Steve asked as they reached the top of the mountain, the path leading into a darkened cave.
"You mind?" Clint sighed. "I just climbed a mountain."
"So did I," Steve grinned, adjusting his helmet, to which Clint scoffed.
"Shut up," the archer laughed.
"Welcome."
The pair swivelled, arming themselves swiftly. They stared into the cave, in the direction of the voice, to find a floating, hooded figure waiting for the pair.
"Who's there?" Clint called, his sword raised and ready.
"Clinton," the voice greeted, "son of Edith. Steven, son of Sarah."
Steve paused, his eyes squinting. There was something all too familiar about that voice. He felt like he had heard it before, somewhere else. In another time, in another place. He could have sworn…
"Who are you?" he asked, his shield by his side.
"Someone like you," the figure answered, as it began floating towards them. "A man out of time."
The stranger landed softly on the rock floor in front of them, treading into the light, revealing what lay obscured by the hood of his tattered cloak. The sunlight touched his shallow, red skin, and Steve's heart fell into his stomach.
"How far we have come," the face of the Red Skull pondered.
Steve was throwing his shield before he even realised it, his aim based on pure instinct. The vibranium disc hurtled through the air, its path true. It passed straight through the shade, hitting the back wall and returning to Steve's hand. The Red Skull barely even flinched.
"There is no use in fighting, Captain."
"What the hell are you doing here?" Steve growled, refusing to back down for even a second. Clint glanced at him, utterly bewildered.
"You know this guy?"
Steve scowled.
"Johan Schmidt," Steve announced. "The Red Skull."
Clint baulked at him.
"That's Red Skull?" he exclaimed.
"I used to be," the shade answered. Steve glared at it, his eyes narrowed.
"And what're you now?" he asked.
"A voice," the shade replied. "A guide. To all those who seek the soul stone."
"How the hell are you still alive?"
"In many ways, I am not." The shade took a step back into the cave. "If you desire the stone, then follow."
Neither moved to follow. Instead, Steve took Clint aside, turning so that his back was to the Red Skull.
"This is a trick," Steve whispered. "We can't trust him."
"It's not like we have much of a choice," Clint replied.
Steve looked at him, silently evaluating their predicament. Clint was right, they had no alternatives. They needed the soul stone. Without it, half the universe remained lost forever - their friends and family, they all stayed dead. If it meant following the Red Skull of all people into the unknown, then so be it. It didn't mean he had to follow willingly.
"Just tell us where it is," Steve urged the shade, "and we'll be on our way."
"Oh, Captain," the Red Skull replied solemnly, "if only it were that easy."
The shade turned, making its way up the other side of the cave, beckoning them to follow behind. They had no choice. They had to follow. And worse, it seemed like his suspicions were about to be validated.
Steve turned to Clint, his gaze firm, his voice low
"Keep your eyes open," was his only warning, but it was enough.
The shade led them up onto the summit, granting them a view of the surrounding country, and finally, a sliver of a silent, red sun, peeking out amongst the gloom. Its beams set the sky on fire, the cool violets flaming into blood reds and blinding whites. The path led them between two towering stone pillars that reached up to scrape the clouds, vigilant against the biting wind.
"What you seek lies in front of you," the Red Skull explained, "as does which you fear."
At the end of the path lay a cliff, a sheer drop. Below that, nothing for thousands of feet interrupted only by a circular stone plateau at the very bottom of the mountain. A fall from this height would certainly be fatal.
"I'm assuming the stone's at the bottom?" Steve deduced.
"For one of you," the Red Skull replied. "For the other…"
The sentence hung over them, drawing Steve's attention back to the endless drop below him. His stomach turned, realising just what the Red Skull's words meant.
"In order to take the stone, you must lose that which you love. An everlasting exchange. A soul for a soul."
And just like that, the pieces slipped into place. The answer to all of Steve's burning questions laid out in front of him.
The reason why Gamora never came back from Vormir.
Now more than ever, perhaps for the first time, Steve was glad that Natasha wasn't by his side.
"Let's try not to trip on our shoelaces this time," Natasha said under her breath. She marched alongside her friend in the uncomfortably period-accurate heels she had chosen to wear, adjusting the blouse she had conveniently stolen.
"Shoelaces tied, double knots," Tony promised, adjusting his tweed blazer, tapping the side of this nanotech glasses covertly.
"Thank god," Natasha drawled unenthusiastically.
"Now," Tony pondered aloud, his eyes moving across the bustle of early-seventies Camp Lehigh, "if you were S.H.I.E.L.D running a quasi-fascistic intelligence organisation, where'd you hide it?"
A good question, Natasha thought, glancing around them, her eyes caught a familiar sight. The shape of a bunker, its roof covered in grass, its entrance marked by a set of grey doors, just like the one Steve had shown her, back when they were on the run.
"In the open," she replied. "12 o'clock."
Tony glanced in front of him, then back to her, then back to where she was subtly nodding to. His gaze hooked the bunker ahead of them, and he smiled. He tapped his glasses once again, his eyes leading down, underneath the concrete road they were walking past - presumably at the hidden elevator behind those doors, Natasha reasoned.
"You been here before?" Tony asked, leading them both towards the bunker, looking both ways in case anyone spotted them.
"Once," Natasha shrugged.
It was simple enough getting into the elevator - the bunker surprisingly didn't have guards, maybe as to not tip off the significance of the building. It was smart, to an extent. It helped keep the real purpose of the building under wraps. It also meant that anyone with the right skills could easily slip into the organisation and do whatever they wanted. Such as stealing a highly-coveted Tesseract, along with some spare Pym Particles, for instance.
The two Avengers made their way through the unlocked door, stepping into the open space of the elevator. They were about to discuss their next move when another lady with a substantial beehive haircut joined them, leaning against the wall beside them, reading her file. Natasha and Tony glanced at each other, deciding to simply remain quiet for the moment.
Natasha could feel the woman's eyes examining her every move. She chose to remain still, twirling the edge of her ponytail casually, acting the aloof secretary role that was expected of her. Tony meanwhile elected to balance on the balls of his feet, looking anywhere but at the stranger by his side.
It was a relief when the elevator eventually came to a halt.
"Good luck on your job, miss," Tony clumsily announced, stepping out of the elevator.
"Thank you, sir," Natasha quickly replied in a high, gasping voice, sending Tony a pointed look as the doors shut between them. The elevator began to move again, deeper and deeper into the facility, leaving only Natasha and the woman on the opposite wall, alone.
"You new here?" the woman said pleasantly, but Natasha could detect a subtle undercurrent of suspicion in her voice.
"Just about," she smiled, nodding. "Still getting used to the place."
"Uh-huh."
The elevator stopped, and the doors opened once again. Natasha gave the lady one last goodbye before quickly departing in the direction for Hank Pym's lab. She strode quickly, opting not the stick around in case she started asking more questions.
"Hello?"
"Hi," Natasha spoke casually into the receiver. "This is Dr Hank Pym, right?"
"Yes, miss, that is the number you've called."
"This is Natalie Stevens from shipping," she explained. "We have a package for you."
"Ah, tell them to bring it up."
"I'm sorry, sir. They can't."
There was a pause from the other side of the call.
"I'm confused, I thought that was your department's job."
"Well, it's just… well, sir, the box is glowing, apparently. And some of the boys are feeling sick…"
"They didn't open it, did they?" Hank's voice replied, suddenly very sober, and Natasha knew she had struck gold.
"Umm, I'm afraid they did-"
The call abruptly cut off, and Natasha smiled.
She peered out of the door, into the hallway, just in time to see Hank Pym sprinting past. She estimated a turnaround of eight minutes before he realised that he never received a package. More than enough time.
The lab itself was only a few turns away and thankfully empty. The particles Natasha needed were also easy to locate, contained in a test tube rack on a desk in the middle of the room. She grabbed a few, enough that would fit in her pocket, and left the lab before anyone could notice she was there.
She turned the last corner, back towards the elevator, when she stopped herself dead in her tracks. The lady from the elevator was speaking to a couple of what must have been security guards. From the short distance between them, Natasha could hear everything she was saying. She was describing her likeness, as well as Tony's.
Natasha glanced around the hallway. There had to be someplace she could hide, only until they had moved away from the elevator. After a frantic few moments of searching, Natasha spotted a darkened room nearby and slipped inside. She shut the door as quietly as she could and held her breath. She heard the sound of footsteps hurrying past, rounding the corner, and fading away.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Natasha turned, only to be met with the door on the opposite side of the small office opening just as a woman with brown hair and a firm gaze walked through it.
A woman that Natasha would recognise anywhere, even in her younger years.
Peggy Carter, future director of SHIELD, stared at her, a frown forming on her lips, her brow creasing.
"What are you doing in here?" she asked.
Natasha quickly conjured an excuse, her mind still reeling from the shock of seeing her idol in the flesh.
"Is this not the right office?" Natasha asked, shrinking in on herself, acting the role of a flustered, young intern.
"I wasn't expecting anyone," Carter replied.
"Oh my god," Natasha exclaimed, "I'm so sorry. Please don't tell anyone, this is my first day-"
"Don't worry, I won't," Peggy smiled, coming to lean on the lip of her desk. "Although, if you want any tips on lying, I'm always available."
Natasha's face dropped. Carter shook her head, reaching into her desk drawer.
"It's part of my job to screen any and all staff that enter this building," she continued. She pulled her hand out of the drawer along with a loaded pistol, aiming it straight at Natasha's chest, "and I've never seen your face once. So, who are you? What are you really doing here?"
Natasha held up her hands slowly, looking the woman in front of her, dead in the eyes.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"Oh, you'd be surprised," Carter replied in a dry tone of voice.
Natasha sighed, throwing caution to the wind.
"I've been sent from the future to steal the most powerful items in the universe in order to save my friends."
Carter blinked, but other than that did not react.
"Okay… that's certainly a first."
'Oh, you've heard nothing yet,' Natasha thought.
"And it was Steve Rogers who sent me."
Her relaxed, aloof manner disappeared. Her confident smirk vanished, replaced with a blank expression.
"Try harder," she replied, anger boiling beneath the surface.
"I'm telling you the truth."
"If you think," Carter said quietly, "making fun of me will end well for you, you don't have the first idea of who you're dealing."
Natasha stared at her, refusing to show weakness.
"You're really gonna make this difficult, aren't you?"
Carter forced a teasing smile.
"Call it a habit."
This wasn't going to work. Natasha knew she needed to convince Carter that she was telling the truth, or she wasn't leaving this office - at least, not as a free woman. She dug down, trying to remember every conversation she ever had about Peggy Carter, anything that only she and Steve would possibly know. And she found it.
"I didn't wanna do this," Natasha sighed. She knew what she was about to say was deeply personal, something Steve told her in highest confidence, but she had no other options. Whatever it takes. "When Rogers went down with the Valkyrie, in the last broadcast he sent out… he promised you a dance."
The transformation was instantaneous. The hard glare on Peggy's face softened, her aim faltered by a fraction of an inch as her hand began to shake. There was a long, tense pause where neither said anything.
"And did he tell you what he had been waiting for?" Peggy eventually asked, her voice still retaining its hard, authoritative edge. "After all that time?"
Natasha nodded.
"The right partner."
Peggy gazed at her for a moment, taking her in. Seeing no hint of a lie, she placed the gun down on the desk, exhaling and staring at the floor. Natasha lowered her hands, breathing a sigh of relief as the tension in the room slowly dissipated.
"Is he alright?" Peggy eventually asked. "In the end?"
Natasha smiled.
"He's a good man. Maybe the best I've ever met. I like to think he's…" She paused, choosing her words very carefully. "He helped me become the person I wanted to be. Or at least try."
To her surprise, Peggy responded with a melancholy smile.
"And I think he's found the right partner," she said softly. She stood up, putting her hands on Natasha's shoulders. "You take care of him. Take of yourself, whoever you are."
"Natasha," she replied, more than slightly starstruck. "Natasha Romanoff."
Peggy nodded.
"I'll keep an eye out when the time comes."
"You'll be waiting a while."
"I'm not going anywhere," Peggy promised. Her mood then turned sober, leaning in to whisper to her. "What do you need?"
"Time," Natasha replied. "Just enough to get out of the bunker."
"Consider it done. Wait here. In two minutes, you head for the lift and don't look back." She walked to the door and was about to open it when she turned back. "And Natasha? Send him my love."
And with that, she left, leaving Natasha behind in her darkened office. Two minutes later, Natasha peeked her head out of the door. Sure enough, the guards were nowhere to be seen. The elevator was waiting for her, open, empty and ready to take her up to the surface.
No wonder Steve liked her.
"He's gone," Clint announced.
Steve turned to look at him, his helmet long forgotten on a nearby rock, stepping back from his place at the edge of the cliff. They had been there for a while now, trying to figure out what to do. Whether or not this was all some kind of illusion or a test with an elaborate solution. Neither of them wanted it to be as simple as it appeared, but as time ticked by, the more it seemed to be so.
Clint noticed his concerned expression, shrugging.
"He might be making this shit up."
"I wanna believe that," Steve replied.
"And you don't?" Clint scoffed. "You just said-"
"Thanos and his daughter came here together," Steve reminded him "Only one of them came back. Call it a hunch."
Clint turned his attention back towards the cliff, before sighing, hanging his head.
"Well, this is awkward." He smiled. "No offence, Cap, you're a beautiful man, but I don't really…"
"Neither do I," Steve shrugged back. "But I don't think it's quite that simple. As long as we're giving up something we love, either of us could do it."
"Then I think we both know who has to jump."
Steve stopped his pacing, his eyes turning back to Clint, frowning.
"No," Steve said bluntly, "I don't."
Clint merely looked at him.
"Come on, Cap."
"Don't even think about it."
"You know what I've done," Clint argued. "All the people I've killed."
"I've killed people, too," Steve retorted. "I was a soldier, Clint. I've taken lives, some of them innocent. I've got blood on my hands-"
"That was war, Rogers, you can't-"
"Half a universe of it."
Clint paused, his expression turning into a picture of confusion. Steve sighed.
"All of this," he shook his head, "this was my fault. I tore the Avengers apart. That was me. I was the one that wouldn't listen, who refused to see reason, and because of that, we lost. You think you're the only one with regrets?"
"You're not the one that gave up," Clint pointed out.
"Because you lost more than I ever did. A family, friends, children…" He paused. "I can't imagine how that feels."
"Can't you?" Clint challenged. "What about the others? Barnes, Sam, Wanda, Nat. The rest of the team. They need you."
"No, they don't," Steve said softly. "They have each other. They would've always had each other if it weren't for me."
Clint took a step back, shaking his head.
"I'm not letting you jump," he said firmly, his voice firm.
Steve sighed.
"I never said it was up to you."
Before Clint could react, Steve's shield had already hit him square in the chest, bowling him over onto the ground. He got up onto his elbows just in time to see Steve dropping his shield, readying himself. Clint knew precisely what he was doing. He was winding up to leap.
The archer pulled his bow off of his back, equipping a tow line onto the quill of his arrow, just as Steve began to sprint towards the edge. He pulled and released the arrow, watching it soar through the air. It hit Steve right in the thigh. The pointed edge dung deep, and Steve cried out, dropping to the ground as Clint pulled the cable taught.
Clint dragged the super-soldier across the rock until his back was under his boot
"Stay down," Clint warned, pushing him into the floor.
Worryingly, the man beneath him chuckled.
"I've heard that one before."
Without warning, Steve rolled, grabbing the line and pulling Clint down with him. The archer stumbled, allowing Steve the time to pull the arrow out from his leg as he pinned the other man down.
"This is my job," Clint growled from beneath him.
"Like hell, it is," Steve growled back.
Clint responded with a kick squarely aimed at the wound in Steve's thigh. Pain spiked through the soldier's leg, his knee buckled, and Clint used the shift in weight to roll the two men over, swapping their positions. He followed up with a swift punch to the face, sending the back of Steve's head into the rocky floor beneath him, stunning him for a moment.
Clint rose, looking down at the super-soldier as he struggled to readjust.
"Sorry," Clint simply said. His gaze turned to the cliff, and he began to sprint to the lip, leaving Steve in his dust.
Clint closed his eyes as he reached the edge, diving over the lip. He knew this was right. This was what he needed to do. He felt the wind on his face as he fell faster and faster towards the ground.
Suddenly, he felt something wrap around his foot, and Clint's fall came to a halt. He opened his eyes, raising his arms as he saw the cliff swing towards him. His body hit the rock wall, his hand instinctively gripping onto something clasping his own. Something firm and heavy.
Clint looked down to see none other than Steve, holding onto his hand for dear life, dangling over the chasm below.
"Why can't you just-" Clint shouted, looking up to find that the cord he had used to harpoon Steve was now tied around his leg.
"Sorry," Steve smirked.
"Let me do this!" the archer exclaimed, trying to reach to the rope around his shin, struggling against the dead weight of Steve holding him down.
Steve shook his head, his gaze as steadfast as the mountain.
"No."
Clint struggled, trying to finger his way up to the cord, but it was no use. No matter what he did, he couldn't reach the rope. They were stuck, suspended over certain death.
"Don't try," he heard Steve say below him. "If anyone's falling, it's me."
Clint looked at his friend, grimacing as his arm began to protest against the weight, but refusing to let go regardless. He reached down, grabbing onto Steve's other arm.
"What about Nat?" he argued. "I saw you two. You can't do this to her."
"What about your kids?" Steve argued back.
"They'll understand," Clint replied hesitantly. Steve stared him deep into eyes.
"And Laura?"
The face of his beautiful wife flashed before Clint's eyes, and suddenly he realised what he almost did, what he had nearly given up. His once iron-clad determination shattered into little pieces. He glanced down to Steve, still staring at him, challenging him to say otherwise. He couldn't.
"You son of a bitch."
The sound of cracking stone sounded from above, and Clint felt the rope holding his leg shudder. Whatever Steve had used as leverage was coming loose, fast. They needed to make a decision. One of them needed to fall. And Steve was the only one who could.
But no matter how he wanted to Clint couldn't let go. Steve was a good man, better than he ever was. He was a hero, the man too good to be true, the man who never gave up on anyone. And now he was asking Clint to kill him.
"Don't make me do this," Clint begged, his voice trembling.
Steve looked at him, his face settled into a small, sad smile.
"I'm not asking you to do anything," he reassured Clint. "It has to be me. Let me go, I'll do the rest."
"No…" Clint cried, holding on as hard as he could, even as he felt his gloved fingers begin to slip.
He wanted to protest, wanted to scream at him to stop, to leave him, but he couldn't. He knew what was about to happen. He knew, even from the moment they arrived, who was really going over the edge. He thought of what the others would think, how they would react, knowing that their leader, their friend, traded his life for Clint's. How disappointed they would be.
"You made mistakes," Steve said, cutting through his thoughts, "but that's okay. You're a good man. Promise me you'll look after them. Promise me."
It was all Clint could do but to stare down at him, locking Steve's glistening, blue eyes.
"I…"
But the man merely nodded, urging him to do what he needed to do, completely unafraid.
"Okay," Clint nodded. "Okay."
With one last glance, Clint allowed his fingers to loosen. He closed his eyes and let go of Steve's hand.
Immediately, Steve reached up, grabbing ahold of Clint's arm, holding himself up just a second longer. Clint opened his eyes, staring down at Steve, confused, hoping, maybe, that the man had changed his mind.
Until he remembered what Steve had said, about how it had to him. His eyes widened.
"Please," was all Clint could manage as he looked as his brother-in-arms.
Steve gave him one last smile and let go.
Clint screamed, reaching out as he watched his friend fall. By that time, Steve was already too far away, falling too fast to stop. Clint gasped, forcing himself to watch as he fell faster and faster and faster until…
By the time Clint registered the landing, it was over. All that was left was Steve's body, lying in a growing pool of crimson, his eyes open but unseeing.
Clint cried, hitting his fist against the cliff in anger until he was sure his fingers were broken. By that time, the sky had opened up, and a blinding light consumed him. Then all he knew was blackness.
Clint awoke surrounded by water, floating at its surface, the sand beneath cushioning him. He sat up slowly, looking around, trying to find any trace of Steve. He was nowhere to be seen.
He looked down, spotting something glowing between his fingers. He opened his find to find the soul stone, glowing bright amber, twinkling like a star in the night sky. It felt warm, even through the leather of his gloves. Clint stared at it despondently. Steve had given his life for this, he realised. This was all that was left of him.
Except, it wasn't, because just a few yards away, just beneath the surface, was something else, something round. Clint waded over to it, looking down, digging it out of the sand. He recognised it immediately.
It was Steve's shield, perfectly intact. The only piece of Steve Rogers they had left.
The mission was a success, and yet all that Clint felt was an overwhelming sense of failure. They had the soul stone. And they lost their best man.
Clint sat in the waters of an alien world and let the tears fall of their own accord.
"You got the Pym particles?" Tony asked Natasha once they met back on the surface, finding her sitting beside a jeep beside a communications hut.
"Just enough." She gestured over to the man Tony had been talking to before he arrived. "Who's your friend?"
"Oh, you know," Tony smiled coyly, "my old man."
Natasha stared at him incredulously, her mouth fell out as she glanced between Tony and the man who just so happened to be his father.
"I thought we were trying not to screw up the timeline."
"Yeah, well, that plan went out the window ages ago."
"I'm assuming you have the cube," Natasha changed the subject, nodding to the briefcase in his hands.
"All safe," Tony replied, patting the briefcase with a satisfied grin.
"Then let's not stick around any longer."
"You meet anyone interesting?"
Natasha glanced at Tony, thinking back to what occurred just a few minutes before, to the amazing woman she had only just met. And she smirked.
She couldn't wait to tell Steve all about it.
A chandelier of glass refractors spun above the glass platform as the generators geared up into full power.
A few seconds later, the platform was empty.
And then it wasn't.
Seven people appeared, materialising on the platform.
"Did we get 'em all?" Bruce asked, looking around, just like the rest of them, as if to confirm that he was indeed back in the Avengers compound.
Rhodey stepped forward, holding the orb for the others to see.
"You telling me this actually worked?" he grinned.
The others smiled. They had done it. They had the stones, the time heist was a success.
"Thanks for sticking to the plan, Cap," Tony announced. He turned to where he recalled Steve was standing when they left. "Real helpf…"
Whatever he had to say was lost. His eyes scanned the room, past Bruce, past Natasha, to the face of every other person present. He counted nine people. Steve wasn't among them.
A heavy thud echoed throughout the hangar. The group swivelled to the source. Clint had fallen to his knees, staring at the glass platform.
"Clint," Rhodey called, prompting the archer to look up, his face pale and defeated. "Clint, what happened? Where's Steve?"
He didn't reply.
"Clint…"
He turned his head towards Natasha's voice, spotting her wide-eyed, nervous expression.
"I… I couldn't…" Whatever words he wanted to say died in his throat. Natasha's gaze fell to the object by Clint's side - a red, white and blue shield - and her heart split in two.
Despite herself, she desperately glanced at the space by her side, expecting Steve to arrive any second. Any moment now he would reappear, with his smug grin and brilliant, bright blue eyes and all would be right in the world. With every second that passed, the space remained empty, and her pulse thundered against her eardrums.
Natasha choked, her eyes glazing over as she realised the horrible truth.
He wasn't coming back. She was never going to see him again.
Steve Rogers, the best man she ever knew, her best friend, her ally and so much more, was gone forever.
She never even got to say goodbye.