Work Text:
Natasha did not close her eyes as she fell. Clint’s anguished face would be the last thing she saw and she would punish herself with the sight of it. She preferred that to the twist of fate that might have forced her to watch the ground rushing up to end her life - and to save the lives of those she hoped to bring back.
Her thoughts were not interrupted by any impact, nor by pain, nor even by the end of consciousness she’d been raised to expect was the final destination of humanity. None of those conditions arose; Natasha felt only a warm breeze washing over her body as she lay on her back. Her eyes were still open.
Gazing up at a yellow-orange sky, lying in a shallow pool of water, warmer than the breeze. She felt as though she were floating and yet at the same time she could feel the stone she lay on.
Through detached amusement she wondered whether this was the afterlife she’d been told didn’t exist, and whether she’d eventually get bored with it. There was no sense of urgency; she could have lain motionless forever, she felt. Perhaps she already had. There was nothing in her mind or memory to stir her - but what did stir her was a faint disturbance in the water, as though someone were walking in the ankle-deep pool.
Natasha raised herself on her elbows and looked around. The sheen of water was the only surface as far as the eye could see in every direction, and the only other motion in the landscape was caused by someone walking toward her. Someone human-shaped, unhurried, casting no shadow (indeed there seemed to be no specific light source).
It seemed only right for her to rise to meet the other, so Natasha did so, noticing that whatever liquid she’d been lying in didn’t cling to her clothes or hair. When she glanced up again, her visitor was suddenly closer than Natasha would have expected, but she felt no alarm. Only curiosity.
The two studied each other.
Natasha saw a woman who on Earth might have been close to her own age, wearing a jacket and trousers that looked like leather and resembled Natasha’s combat suit. Neither woman carried any tools or weaponry - even the Widow’s Bite wristbands were gone from Natasha’s arms. The other woman had deep brown eyes and some faint silvery lines on her face. Her hair, a deep magenta, curled long and loose, stirring in the breeze, and she wore no ornamentation.
Finally, Natasha made a move. Keeping her gaze on the other woman’s eyes, she lifted her hands palm up and held them out.
“Наталья Альяновна Романова.” She said her name in Russian, but what she heard herself say was the English version. “Natalia Alianovna Romanova.”
The other woman did not raise her hands, but she spoke.
“Gamora Zen Whoberi Ben Titan,” was what Natasha heard, but from the expression on the other’s face she could tell that, like her own words, they were a translation of some kind.
“We can understand each other’s speech,” said Nat, and the other woman nodded. Nat added, “My name is Natalia.”
“I’m Gamora,” said her companion. “Do you know where we are?”
“It doesn’t look like any place I’ve ever been. You?”
Gamora shook her head. “It doesn’t even look like Vormir.”
Nat felt a shiver of recognition. “Vormir?”
“That’s the last place I remember.”
“Me, too,” said Nat. “I died there.”
Rather than recoiling, Gamora’s eyes lit up. “So did I,” she exclaimed. “My father killed me. He threw me off the cliff...”
“...to gain possession of the Soul Stone?” Nat asked. “Your father is Thanos, then.”
There was a long pause before Gamora said, almost inaudibly, “Was.” After another long pause she asked, “How do you know of Thanos?”
In her former life, this question would have made Nat hesitate and prevaricate. Here, there seemed no need for it.
“He came to my planet,” she said simply. “To Earth. Looking for the other stones.”
“Earth!” Gamora interrupted. “You’re from Earth?”
“That’s what we call it. How do you know of Earth?” Nat asked in her turn.
“I know someone from Earth.” Gamora’s face fell. “Knew. I don’t know if he’s still alive.”
Both of them gazed out across the liquid landscape for a time.
“Why did you come to Vormir? Why did you die here?” asked Gamora.
“To find the Soul Stone, to undo what Thanos did. I hope it worked.” Nat sighed. It had to have worked. For Clint’s sake, for the sake of everyone she’d left behind. “Two of us went to Vormir to get the Soul Stone - but we didn’t know the price we’d have to pay. We had to decide who was going to pay it, and, well. Here I am.”
Gamora was gazing at her as if puzzled.
“You went willingly?” she said. “You weren’t forced?”
“We fought over it. Not over the Stone - over which of us was going to die for it.”
“So, did you win?” Gamora asked softly. “Or did you lose?”
The memory of Clint’s face flashed across Nat’s mind, not as she’d last seen him, but as he grinned at her from his seat in the cockpit of the Benatar.
“I won,” she said.
“You loved him,” Gamora said.
“We loved each other,” said Nat. “He’s my family.”
“I found a family, once,” said Gamora. “Nebula, my sister. Peter, my lover. Even Rocket and Drax.”
She smiled at Gamora, who returned the smile and took her hand.
“I wonder if we can find out what’s happened to them,” said Nat. “Do you know what the rules are - wherever we are?”
“I don’t know,” said her new friend. “Shall we find out?”
Together they began walking toward the horizon.