"the mind forgets, but the heart always remembers"
Natasha Romanoff stared blankly at the bullseye target, her fingers absentmindedly fiddling with the arrow in her hand. She drew her arm back and released, the arrow sailing through the air in a graceful arc before landing just shy of the bright red circle at the center.
With a frustrated huff, she lowered her bow and turned to the Avenger beside her. "I just can't focus today. Something feels...off."
Clint Barton paused his own target practice and faced her, brow furrowed in concern. "Off how?"
She shook her head, strands of red hair falling loose from her ponytail. "I'm not sure. It's like there's something I've forgotten, some nagging feeling that I'm missing something important."
Clint's expression softened. As her closest friend and confidante, he knew Natasha did not admit vulnerability easily. "I'm sure it's nothing serious. Could just be your instincts telling you to take a break." He nodded towards the compound's sliding doors. "Why don't we call it a day?"
Natasha sighed, then nodded reluctantly. As they made their way inside, the other Avengers glanced up from their various activities, immediately noticing Natasha's somber demeanor.
Steve was the first to approach them. "Everything okay, Nat?"
She gave a noncommittal shrug. "I guess I'm just feeling a little off today. Like I'm forgetting something big, but I have no idea what it could be."
The super soldier furrowed his brow, then shook his head. "I can't think of anything we've forgotten. We just completed that covert op in Kiev, and nothing else major has happened lately."
"You're probably overthinking things, as usual," Tony chimed in from across the room. "I'd offer you a drink if I thought it would help."
Natasha crossed her arms, unconvinced. "It just feels like more than that. All of you really have no sense that we're missing someone?"
The other Avengers glanced around at each other, confusion evident on their faces.
"Sister Natasha," Thor rumbled finally. "If another warrior had fought alongside us, I am certain we would remember them."
"Yeah, I think Point Break's right," Tony added. "I think you've been training too hard. Why don't you take a nice, long bath and put this out of your mind?"
Natasha bit back a sharp retort, not wanting to take her frustration out on her teammates. Intellectually, she knew they were likely right - she was probably exhausted and her mind was playing tricks on her. But her instincts had never failed her before, and she had learned long ago to trust her gut.
Wordlessly, she turned and made her way to her private quarters, more unsettled than ever. She sank down heavily onto the bed, wracking her brain for any detail about what exactly felt so wrong. Strewn across her bedspread was a collection of personal items - books, weapons, trinkets from past missions. Natasha found herself drawn to an unassuming metal bracelet, similar to those distributed at carnivals and festivals. She vividly remembered winning it years ago and excitedly presenting it to...someone. But who?
Frantically she tried to grasp the memory, but it remained just out of reach, like a word on the tip of her tongue. The harder she tried to focus on it, the more it seemed to slip away, leaving her with nothing but a cold, hollow feeling in her core.
Exhausted from mentally chasing a ghost, Natasha eventually dozed off still wearing her tactical gear from training that morning. Sometime later, she awoke to FRIDAY's voice announcing that dinner was being served. With a groan she sat up, body aching. Making her way to the kitchen, she was surprised to find it empty except for Bruce Banner, who was brewing tea at the counter.
"Where is everyone?" she asked.
"Tony took the team out for shawarma," Bruce explained. "Said you could use the downtime."
Natasha nodded, unsurprised that Tony had accurately read her sour mood. She moved to help Bruce prepare a second mug of tea, hoping the ritual would soothe her lingering disquiet.
Bruce studied her carefully. "So...Tony said you seemed really distracted today. Want to talk about what's going on?"
Natasha considered waving off his concern as she had the others, but something made her pause. If anyone could understand relentless obsessions, it was probably Bruce.
"I can't shake this feeling that I'm forgetting someone important," she admitted finally, eyes fixed on the swirling tea leaves. "Someone who was a part of this team. But no one else has any sense of it. I'm starting to think I'm losing my grip."
Bruce was silent for a long moment. "Does it feel less like a normal lapse of memory and more like...a presence you can't fully grasp?" he asked eventually.
Natasha's eyes shot up to meet his, surprised that he had so accurately described the sensation. "Yes, exactly. Like a word stuck on the tip of your tongue, but a hundred times more frustrating."
"Hmm." Bruce removed his glasses, deep in thought. "You know, what you're describing reminds me of something I've noticed in my own mind recently. Ever since we used the Stones to undo the Decimation, it's like there are gaps in places memories should be. I can't really explain it."
Natasha leaned forward, latching onto this new piece of information. "What do you mean, gaps?"
"Well..." Bruce frowned, searching for the words. "It's like I'll be working on a project, and some variable or equation will feel familiar, even though I know for certain I've never encountered it before. Or I'll overhear someone say a certain name or place, and it'll trigger this wave of emotion, even though I don't know why."
He shifted, looking mildly embarrassed. "I'm sure it doesn't mean anything. The Stones affected all of our minds in ways we don't fully understand. Probably just my brain playing tricks on me."
But Natasha was no longer listening. Her heart pounded as she recognized her own experiences reflected in Bruce's words. This wasn't just her imagination - something was wrong.
Leaping to her feet, she began to pace rapidly. "Bruce, what if it's not a coincidence? What if the Stones didn't just mess with our perception of time, but actually altered our memories somehow?"
Bruce's eyes widened at the implication. "You think we really did forget someone? But why would the Stones do that?"
"I don't know," Natasha admitted. Exhaustion and stress were replaced by blazing determination. "But I intend to find out."
Three days later found Natasha once again gathered with her teammates, arms crossed and expression stony.
"For the last time, we didn't forget anyone!" Tony insisted, the rest of the Avengers murmuring in agreement around him. "I think I would remember assembling another superhero."
"But none of you have been able to explain the gaps," Natasha persisted stubbornly.
Bruce cleared his throat. "I'll admit, it does seem like more than just coincidences. But even if we accept that the Stones altered our minds, how would we get those memories back?"
Natasha turned to the only magic user in their midst. "Wanda. You can access people's minds, right? Could you try to uncover our lost memories?"
The young woman looked uncertain. "I've never attempted something so complex. And tampering further with the mind could be dangerous."
Steve spoke up gently. "Wanda, I know you want to help, but is this really necessary? We defeated Thanos. Maybe some things are best left forgotten."
Natasha whirled on him furiously. "How can you say that, Steve? What if it was Bucky we had forgotten? Would you still be content to remain ignorant?"
Steve looked stricken. After a long moment, he nodded reluctantly. "You're right. We owe it to each other to learn the truth, no matter how difficult."
Heart racing, Natasha took a seat and met Wanda's eyes. "Do it."
Wanda extended her hands, red energy beginning to swirl around her fingers. Natasha kept her breathing steady, bracing herself.
At first she felt only a slight tingling in her temples. Then came a sudden, searing pain, and she cried out. Vague shapes and bursts of light danced behind her eyelids. Just when she thought she couldn't endure any more, an image coalesced into focus - a lean figure swinging between buildings, dressed in a familiar red and blue suit.
Spider-Man.
In a rush, everything came flooding back. She saw Peter unmasking himself at Leipzig airport, his wide-eyed awe at meeting the Avengers. She remembered mentoring him through missions, ruffling his hair affectionately. Watched in horror as he crumbled to dust in Tony's arms. Then, five years later, she witnessed him return - older, sadder, but still fundamentally good.
Gasping, Natasha opened her eyes. The other Avengers were blinking and shaking their heads, all similarly overwhelmed.
"Peter," Tony breathed in anguish, dropping his head into his hands. "Oh god, how could I have forgotten?"
"Spider-Man...he was so young," Steve murmured, distraught. "We were supposed to protect him."
"I can't believe we left him to fend for himself all this time," Bruce said, guilt etched across his features.
"We failed him," Natasha whispered. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks. In that instant, she knew - she had loved that boy like her own child. They all had. And they had utterly abandoned him.
Rising on unsteady feet, Natasha addressed her teammates. "We need to find him. Now."
It took nearly a week of relentless searching, during which the Avengers hardly slept. Finally, late one evening, FRIDAY intercepted a police report of a disturbance uptown; witnesses had reported what looked like a man in red and blue tights departing the scene.
Within minutes the quinjet was screaming through the skyline, its passengers buzzing with nervous energy. Natasha stood at the edge of the cargo bay doors, scanning the city below. There - she spotted a lithe figure swinging between highrises.
"Peter!" she shouted into the wind. The figure faltered, then changed course to intercept them. Natasha's heart seized as Spider-Man thwipped onto the quinjet and into her arms. She clutched him tightly, half-convinced he would disappear if she let go.
Peter was rigid against her. "Uh, Ma'am...I think you have me confused with someone else..."
Natasha pulled back to look him in the eyes, which stared at her in utter bewilderment through the mask. "Peter. It's me, Nat. We know what happened, we remember you now."
"W-what? No, I...I don't..." Peter trailed off weakly as Tony approached.
"Hey, kid." Tony's voice was thick with emotion. "We're so sorry we forgot you. But we want to make this right."
The other Avengers nodded encouragingly. Peter backed away slowly, looking cornered.
"You must have me confused with someone else," he repeated, but his voice quavered uncertainly. "I don't know any Avengers."
Natasha's heart broke at his obvious lie. Stepping forward, she reached up and gently grasped the edge of his mask. Peter flinched but didn't pull away as she slowly rolled it up and off.
His wide brown eyes were filled with fear and mistrust. Natasha felt her own eyes well up.
"Oh, Паучок," she murmured, the Russian nickname falling easily from her lips. "You've been so alone, haven't you?"
At the childhood pet name, Peter froze. His lips formed a perfect O of shock. Natasha waited patiently as indecision and hope warred across his features. Then his shoulders slumped in defeat.
"Nat?" he finally whispered in a small, broken voice, and she knew she had him. Enveloping him in another fierce embrace, she carded a hand through his hair just like she used to.
"Let's go home," she said firmly. And though tears continued to stream down his face, she felt him nod against her shoulder.
The journey back to the compound passed in a blur. Peter clung silently to Natasha the entire time, seemingly afraid to let go. She learned that in the weeks since Spider-Man's identity was exposed, Peter had been staying on the streets and relying on his powers just to survive. The raw pain in his voice as he recounted losing Aunt May shattered Natasha's heart.
"I'm so sorry, Peter," she told him, again and again. "We should never have let you face this alone."
The normally exuberant boy just huddled against her, looking small and lost. Natasha swore fiercely to herself that she would spend every day making it up to him, no matter what it took.
It wasn't until late that night after Peter had finally cried himself to sleep that Natasha remembered to ask about the whys and hows behind their missing memories. In hushed tones, Peter explained everything - Mysterio's deception, the spell gone wrong, the cracks in the multiverse. How, after the death of the only family he had left, Peter went to Doctor Strange begging him to make the world forget him completely before the fabric of reality itself was ripped apart.
"He said it was the only way," Peter finished dully. "So I agreed. I just...I didn't know what else to do."
The Avengers sat in solemn silence as the full impact of Peter's sacrifice sank in. He had given up everything - his world, his future, his very identity - to protect them all. And they had repaid that debt by abandoning him at his darkest hour.
Tony spoke first, fury simmering beneath his words. "Strange had no right to make you shoulder that burden alone. You're just a kid."
Steve clasped Tony's shoulder. "We know it's too little, too late. But from now on, you won't have to handle problems like this by yourself ever again. Let us take up this fight."
There were murmurs of assent all around. Natasha squeezed Peter's hand tightly.
"We're going to make this right, Паучок. Whatever it takes."
Peter offered her a watery smile in return. And for the first time in weeks, Natasha felt the knot in her chest begin to loosen. They had a long way to go, but reunited with her loved ones around her, she believed they would get there.
Together.
Over the next few weeks, life settled into an easy rhythm. Peter returned to school, though Tony insisted on upgrading his classmates' memories so no one questioned Peter's sudden reappearance. The Avengers seamlessly welcomed him back into missions and training. And every evening, without fail, Natasha set aside time just for her Паучок.
Sometimes they cooked dinner together, Peter chattering happily about his day while Natasha watched him with undisguised fondness. Other nights she helped him study, or they watched movies curled up on the couch. Often, though, they simply talked - about training, or girls Peter liked, or memories from better times. And if Peter woke gasping from nightmares of ash and dust, Natasha was there, combing her fingers through his hair and reminding him in soothing Russian that he was home now. That she would never leave him again.
On one such evening, Natasha arrived in the common area to find Peter already waiting, two mugs of tea in hand and an impish grin on his face.
"I thought I was supposed to make drinks for you, old lady," he teased, pressing one mug into her hands.
Natasha laughed and cuffed him playfully on the shoulder. "Less of the old, маленький паук. I'm only in my 30s."
They settled together on the couch and Peter's expression grew more serious. "Can I, uh, ask you something?"
Natasha nodded for him to continue.
"It's just, I was wondering..." He fidgeted with his mug. "That day you guys found me again, what made you remember? How did you know?"
Natasha considered the question. In truth, she still wasn't entirely sure what had awoken her memories when all else failed. It was almost like...
"I felt it in my heart," she said finally. "I didn't remember facts or details. But I knew you were important to me, that you belonged in my life. It was like there was this space inside me that only you could fill."
She placed a hand over her chest. "The mind forgets, Паучок. But the heart will always remember. And what is the heart's memory but love itself?"
Peter ducked his head at her admission, cheeks flushing faintly. After a moment he whispered "I missed you too, Nat."
Then he was wrapping her in a quick, fierce hug. Natasha held him close, heart swelling. However the mind magic had warped their realities, it hadn't been able to erase this bond completely.
Over Peter's shoulder, Natasha spotted Tony entering the room. He paused when he saw the pair on the couch, eyes softening.
"Don't let me interrupt," he said, turning as if to leave.
"Wait." Natasha beckoned him over. "There's room for one more."
Tony's face lit up. In three quick steps he joined the embrace, ruffling Peter's hair affectionately. The teen laughed and tried to squirm away, though his protestations were only half-hearted.
And surrounded by her boys, Natasha smiled in contentment. She knew without a doubt that they would be okay. The mind may forget, but the heart always remembers.