The alarm clock blared loudly. Natasha fumbled for the dial and turned it off. Wait. Natasha sat up grabbed the clock and stared at it for a good minute. It was silent. It wasn't continuing to peal. She was alive, she leaped up and ran to her mirror- she was unchanged! The bed was her own, the room was her own. Best and happiest of all, the Time before her was her own, to make amends in!

"I know what I've done wrong!" Natasha, as she scrambled around the room. "Oh Anya! Thank you, for giving me my life back!"

"I don't know what to do!" cried Natasha, laughing and crying in the same breath; "I am as light as a feather, I am as happy as an angel, I am as merry as... as Tony. I am as giddy as a drunken man. A merry Christmas to everybody! A happy New Year to all the world!"

She had run into the sitting-room, and was now standing there: perfectly silent.

"There's the door, by which the Ghost of Anya entered. There's the corner where the Ghost of Tony, sat. There's the window where I saw Steve. It's all right, it's all true, it all happened. It did. And even if I dreamt it, I don't care. I know what I need. Ha ha ha!"

Really, for a woman who had been out of practice for so many years, it was a splendid laugh, a most illustrious laugh.

She checked her phone. It was still Christmas. Running to the window, she opened it, and put out her head. No fog, no mist; clear, bright, jovial, stirring, cold; cold, piping for the blood to dance to; Golden sunlight; Heavenly sky; sweet fresh air; merry bells. Oh, glorious. Glorious!

She decided to go out. Why, she didn't really know. Nothing was open, but she wanted to mill about, like that father and daughter so many years ago. As she stood by her door, pulling on her coat, there, the knocker caught her eye.

"I shall love it, as long as I live!" cried Natasha, patting it with her hand. "I scarcely ever looked at it before. What an honest expression it has in its face. It's a wonderful knocker."

As she wandered, the people were by this time pouring forth, going for walks, going to and from churches, walking with her hands behind her, she watched the people hurrying to and fro, and watched children frolic, and realized, with a little disdain, that she found herself once again envious of families on Christmas. She had never dreamed that any walk - that anything - could give her so much happiness. After returning to her house after successfully acquiring a bottle of wine, she decided to take the leap, and go to Maria's.

She weasled her way into the building, and passed the door a dozen times, before she had the courage to go up and knock. She could hear them like she was inside the apartment with them; but of course, the Avengers were never known for being quiet. But she made a dash, and did it: she heard Maria make excuses about a nosy neighbour- the door opened.

"Natasha?"

"I have nothing to do, Maria. This blasted Christmas. My guns can only be so clean. I brought some wine. I don't really know if it's any good, I usually drink stronger stuff. My invitation still stands?" Natasha knew Maria would see through her sarcasm. Maria smiled.

"Follow me." Natasha followed Maria until they reached the appropriate door. "Better let me go first." Natasha waited as Maria entered the room and told the others that they had a surprise guest. Natasha turned the handle gently, and sidled her face in, round the door.

The room was silent. Natasha stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, as they all gaped at her.

"Merry Christmas" she began "Maria invited me to dinner. Do you mind if I join you?"

Let her join them! It is a mercy Thor didn't squeeze her to death. She was at home again in five minutes. Nothing could be heartier. They were all glad to see her, and no one mentioned the fact that she'd alienated herself from them for the past 25 years- she supposed that conversation would come about later- it was Christmas after all.

Natasha still didn't feel whole however- the ghosts also revealed to her that the constant bitterness she was feeling wasn't from early retirement, it was from loneliness. And the hole that that loneliness left felt a lot fuller than before, it was still missing a large chunk. And Natasha knew who that chunk was. So while Tony and Cap were in the middle of their 5th argument of the night with Bruce and Thor mediating, Natasha tapped Maria on the shoulder.

"Maria?" Hill turned. "Can I borrow your phone? I'm... I'm afraid my call won't go through if I use mine."Hill handed her the phone without a word. Natasha stepped out on the balcony, after what seemed an eternity, dialled the number. After what seemed another eternity, he picked up.

"Barton."

"Merry Christmas Clint." Silence. "Clint?" Natasha was starting to worry he was going to have a heart attack from the shock.

"Nat..Natasha?"

"You know technically, I'm supposed to celebrate Christmas in a couple weeks, being Russian Orthodox, but you never thought of that. Expected me to conform to your Americanism."

"That figures. You were always late anyway." She can hear the grin.

"When are you coming back?"

"Back to where?"

"Not Alaska."

"Soon. Why?" There it was. How was she supposed to respond? Coulson visited me from beyond the grave? She answered honestly.

"I... I miss you. Sorry it took me so long to realize" She knew he'd be able to hear the unspoken phrases.

"I've missed you too." They listened to each other breath over the phone for a good minute before Natasha spoke again.

"You should retire. Come help me train the new agents. They have terrible aim." It wasn't a marriage proposal per se, but Clint knew Natasha well enough to understand what she meant. Natasha held her breath; she was still waiting for Clint to start yelling.

"the good thing about Russian Christmas Romanov, means we can celebrate it when I get back." Natasha thought she was empty of tears, but it seemed not to be the case.

"Sounds like a plan Barton. I'm on Maria's phone. I'll call you when I get back to my place, if you're not to old that it's passed your bedtime." Clint scoffed.

"I never grew up Tash."

"Don't I know it."

"Talk to you soon."

"I love you." Natasha hung up before he could reply, grinning like she had never had before. She returned to everyone else, feeling that perhaps, everything would be alright.

But she was early at training the next morning. Oh she was early there. If she could only be there first, and the new agents coming late! That was the thing she had set her heart upon.

And she did it; yes, she did. The clock struck nine. No students. A quarter past. Natasha sat with her door wide open, that she might see them come into the training room.

"Hallo," growled Natasha, in her accustomed voice. "What do you mean by coming here at this time of day?"

"We're very sorry, ma'am," said Bob. "we are behind our time."

"You are?" repeated Natasha. "Yes. I think you are. Step this way, if you please."

"It's only once a year, ma'am," pleaded one of the agents. "It shall not be repeated."

"Now, I'll tell you what, my friend," said Natasha, "I am not going to stand for this sort of thing any longer. If you're late for a mission you're dead. Do you understand? When Agent Barton starts training you, if you're late for HIS class, then I guarantee he'll shoot you. And then you'll be dead here too. Now, where were we the day before?"

The agents stood with their mouths agape, fully expecting some kind of torture rather than a reprimand. It didn't come.

"Stop standing around, move!"

No one lives forever. Death is inevitable. But what we do with that time can change how long we live and whether or not we're happy.

Happiness used to be a foreign concept to Natasha, be she embraced it wholeheartedly.

When Clint stepped off the airplane and into Natasha's arms less than a day after she had hung up on him, he was never parted from her again. Retirement suited them better than either of them would ever admit, and the only Tony & Cap Natasha saw again were the ones made of flesh and blood.

Sometime later after the fateful night, she had started keeping Christmas well. She was hanging ornaments on the tree Clint had insisted on cutting down himself, since it was so much fun last year, when she heard him open the door and toe off his shoes.

"You're getting noisy Barton. I can hear you from here"

"Maybe I wanted to be heard" he grinned as he wrapped his arms around her (Natasha felt home, not that she'd admit it)

"Are you ready for everyone to invade our house?" Natasha liked that word. Our. Sounded nice.

Clint scoffed.

"I'm never NOT ready. Now, how 'bout we go find some mistletoe?" She rolled her eyes at his stupid lines, silently thanking the spirits who were the home's first invaders.

And although eventually they both needed a tombstone, when the time came, they were side by side rather than alone.