Prologue
Everything is crumbling.
Natasha stares, unblinking, as people’s screams are cut off, their lips and throats turning to dust.
They lost.
She has to find her friends, has to see who’s left. She runs past the vanishing Dora and the discarded panther helmet, trying to ignore the panic she feels creeping up. Calm down, Natasha. Calm. You are no good to anyone curled in a sobbing ball. She skids to a stop as she sees Vision, synthezoid body pale and unmoving. There is a hole in his head where the Stone used to be.
They lost.
Thanos got the stones. He got the stones. They did their best and it wasn’t good enough. Not good enough not good enoughnotgoodenoughnevergoodenough- she stumbles back and her foot hits something. She looks down. There, lying on the dirt, is an abandoned machine gun. Natasha can’t breathe. She needs to leave, needs to get out, because she is used to death, used to seeing it and causing it, but this, this is different. This is a massacre, this is her friends and comrades, this, Natasha thinks, is why she doesn’t- didn’t- get close to people, why she didn’t want friends, didn’t want to like her team, not with what they do, the risks they take.
She runs, barely seeing where she’s going, dodging dying people and crying people and still fighting people, god why are they still fighting, can’t they see that it’s over, and she runs until she sees familiar blue and blonde. She’s not the only one left. Natasha sprints, pushing people out of the way, until she’s right next to Steve, grabbing him like she’s making sure he’s real, that he’s here, that he’s not leaving. That's not what she's doing, she argues in her head, but it sure feels like it when Steve grabs her back, and they just stand there, holding each other as half the world disappears.
“Natasha,” he says, and she notices that he’s been crying. She’s unsurprised that she’s not. Her stress response had been trained into her years ago, and there was no place for tears in the Red Room, not real ones. “Natasha,” he says again, “Bucky, he-I saw him-” and her heart breaks, because if this is how she’s feeling, then what’s it like for Steve, to get Bucky back and then lose him again. She nods softly and hugs him tighter.
“I know, Steve. I saw the gun.” He looks like he’s about to start crying again, so she grabs his shoulders and looks him in the eyes. Well, as much as she can, given that he’s so fucking tall, but she gets his attention. Good. He’s still with her, that’s good.
“Steve, I need you to breathe with me, alright? There are still people out there who need you, who need Captain America, so I need you to hold it together for a bit longer, ok?” Steve nods, and she sees his face slip into a mask of faked calm. Right. Soldier. She forgets, sometimes, with how reckless he is, but Steve has done this before. Well, not this exactly, but he’s been through war. He knows how to deal with soldiers. She nods at him, and he copies her before they both turn and make their way out of the tree line and back onto the main battlefield. There’s not much battle happening, now. Thanos has left, the Black Order is dead, and without them the remaining Wakandans have subdued the alien foot soldiers.
She ignores them, heading straight for the center, where she sees Okoye, Thor, Captain Marvel, Bruce, and the rest of the remaining superheroes, if they -if she- deserve that title anymore, are gathering. She tries to pay attention as Steve starts assigning cleanup roles, as they try to decide who to send where, but her mind is on her family. She needs to call Yelena.
Natasha steps away from the group, unnoticed, and pulls out her phone. Shakily, she hits the call button next to her sister’s name.
It rings.
And rings.
And rings.
There’s no answer.
Natasha feels the emotions building in her throat again, because Yelena always answers, even if she’s in the middle of a mission, even if she’s running for her life, she always answers when Natasha calls.
Yelena doesn’t answer, and Natasha knows that the worst has happened. What happened, Natalia, you were supposed to protect her, protect your baby sister, you couldn’t protect her couldn’t save her couldn’t save anyone Yelena is gone again and it’s your fault your fault yourfaultyourfaultyou- Natasha lets out a soft, half choked gasp as she tries to breathe. In and out, Natasha, in and out. Onetwothree IN onetwothree OUT onetwothree IN onetwothree OUT. Slowly, her breathing resumes its normal speed. She hopes it was fast enough that no one noticed. She needs to be a hero right now, not a panic-stricken older sister.
She sidles back over to rejoin the group as Steve finishes his... debrief? Consoling? Assigning? Whatever he was doing. She walks over to him as the others depart, figuring he’ll probably want some support right now. She doesn't need it, though. None of the hug she gives him is for her sake. Not at all. They stand like that for a few minutes, hugging in the center of a battlefield full of corpses and ashes, clinging to each other to ensure they don’t vanish.
Natasha’s phone vibrates. She pulls it out again and frowns, because it is dark and still in her hand. She feels the vibration again and pales, because the vibration is coming from the burner she has to contact Clint in dire emergencies. She pulls it out and, at Steve’s questioning glance, whispers, “Clint.”
His eyes go soft in understanding, and he steps away, giving her privacy to talk to her best friend. Does Clint know what's happened? He must know. Oh, god, did something happen to Laura and the kids. She curses, because if his family is gone then she doesn’t know what he’ll do or if she can get there in time. She answers and says, “Clint? As I’m sure you’ve guessed, now’s not a great time. What happened?”
She pales even further and almost drops the phone when she hears a small “Auntie Nat?”