Chapter Text
The first time Natasha saw Wanda – actually saw, not just suffered the effects of being on the opposite team as her – the words slipped out without a second thought.
“Is that my jacket?”
“She’s with us,” Steve quickly made clear, as if Nat couldn’t be trusted around new team members.
“That still doesn’t explain the jacket,” Natasha repeated, and it was definitely hers. The one she kept in the jet in case of emergencies. She hadn't worn it in years because it was too tight around her shoulders for her comfort, and she often preferred to be cold rather than wear that confining piece of clothing. That’s why it was the jet-jacket after all. Plus, the red clashed with her natural hair color.
Wanda, her chestnut hair and dark eyes contrasted by the red leather, looked away, rolling her shoulders. Her discomfort was visible from a mile away, and Natasha felt for her. She knew how hard it was to own up to mistakes from her own past. It required a willpower and strength that not everyone had.
And yet, Wanda stood next to Steve, ready to own up to the mistake she made, ready to face the people who probably held a grudge against her, ready to make it right.
Natasha respected her for it.
That’s why, days later, when Wanda came to her on one of the first times she left her new room across the hall from Nat, she shook her head at the jacket Wanda tried to push into her hands with swollen eyes and a red nose.
“Keep it. It suits you better anyway.”
Wanda hadn’t said a word, and she was silent when the tears started to roll down her face and Natasha pulled her into a hug. Her whole body shook violently with every suppressed sob, her hands clinging to the fabric of Nat’s hoodie like she was holding on for dear life. Natasha supposed that she was.
And, even though her own grief was not comparable to losing a sibling in any way, Natasha was glad to have someone to hold onto, too. There was no sign of Bruce, and both Tony and Fury were certain they wouldn’t find him if he didn’t want to be found.
Wanda was the one to ask if she could join Natasha’s morning run one random day. Natasha shrugged, explaining that she wasn’t one for talking while jogging. Wanda had shown the hint of a smile and reassured her that it was the reason she wanted to come.
Wanda was fast. Natasha was used to keeping up with her male friends and colleagues – at least anyone that wasn’t doped with the super soldier serum. She wasn’t used to female joggers being able to keep up with her on runs through the forest.
Either Wanda had some of whatever had made her brother so inhumanly fast, or she had been training regularly. Or maybe it was an outlet for her grief.
Whatever it was, it was perfect for Natasha. Wanda didn’t speak, she set a pace that challenged Natasha, and eventually, she was waiting for Nat at the stairwell in the early hours of every morning.
Natasha had run the same route for years. Three weeks into training with Wanda, she suggested a longer one. The smile on Wanda’s lips was one of the few genuine ones she got to see in the woman’s first time with the Avengers.
Their living arrangements had changed after Sokovia. Tony didn’t join them anymore, frustrated with himself and the world. Thor had gone to Asgard, Clint had gone to see his family, and Bruce had gone missing. Wanda had joined them, and the strangest addition was the sentient android that hovered around the base and phased through walls and floors.
In between all of that, Natasha and Steve worked on something of a routine. They all needed it, some sense of belonging together, some structure after their team had been shaken to the core. There was dinner, which they held together, training times where they met up, and, the part Natasha hated the most, weekly bonding time on Wednesday evenings. Had she been the one to suggest it? Sure. She just didn’t like being a part of it.
Maybe she was exaggerating. Most of the time they watched a movie, which was fine. And it wasn’t like someone forced her to be there. But because she wanted to make sure Wanda went outside of her room from time to time, she regularly found herself knocking on the other woman’s door on Wednesday evenings.
Wanda was the one to throw her blanket over Natasha’s legs when the leaves fell and it became colder, and Natasha put on the kettle for Wanda after she learned her favorite tea. It was those unspoken little rituals that got hints of smiles out of Wanda here and there. And it was something to keep Natasha focused and not constantly brooding over her PC, trying to find a sign of the ship that Bruce had stolen to take to space.
When Wanda wanted to go back to what was left of Sokovia, Natasha was the one to fly the jet for her. She tried to give Wanda as much space as she could, as she grieved for all the losses she had endured, roaming through the rubble of what once was her home. But the pain in her eyes was so visible, even without any tears left, that Natasha made a resolution.
She would stop grieving for Bruce. It had been his decision to leave her behind, his will that he executed, and he didn’t deserve the amount of thought she devoted to finding him. Wanda’s grief was different, a part of her family had been ripped away, a piece of her heart cut out without a way to ever heal it. She was in the unfortunate position of having to live out her life, knowing that her twin brother couldn’t do that anymore.
Bruce could do what he wanted. Pietro had no choice.
Natasha stepped up and knelt next to Wanda, who was on the ground between the remains of a house. Resting a hand on Wanda’s back, she quietly asked:
“Do you want to set up some kind of memorial for Pietro?”
With a silent nod, Wanda rested her head against Natasha’s shoulder. Even though the rocky ground was digging into their knees and the dust from the ruins was irritating their lungs, they stayed like that until the sun had set behind the horizon.
“It is not getting any easier! Everyone keeps telling me that, but it doesn’t. It has been twelve weeks!”
Natasha had been walking past the kitchen on her way down and out of the house when she overheard Wanda’s yell of frustration and desperation. She had turned around and spotted Steve, his hands in the air, quietly explaining something to Wanda. But she wasn't paying attention, her hand running through her hair as if about to rip it out, her eyes darting around the room, looking for an exit.
“Wanda, I’ve been looking for you,” Natasha said casually as she walked into the room, pretending she didn’t just overhear the emotional outburst. “You asked me to come get you when I was going out, are you ready?”
The look of confusion on Wanda’s face turned into one of utter relief. She nodded, turning to Steve with a forced smile.
“I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
Without waiting for an answer, she rushed out of the door, hooking her arm underneath Nat’s and pulling her along. Only once they had reached the stairwell Wanda slowed down.
“Where are we going?”
Natahsa shrugged. “I was going to the garden. But that’s not working with our cover story, so how about a hot chocolate at a cafe? Or maybe a drink at the bar, depending on how you’re feeling.”
“To a bar, then,” Wanda said with a grim expression.
Nodding Natasha took her hand and changed directions, leading Wanda to the garage instead of the exit. In the car Wanda turned up the volume of the music, making it impossible to hold a conversation – but Natasha didn’t mind. They sang along to whatever song came on, and Wanda let down her window to have her hand surf the wind current. In a change of plans they stopped at a gas station, bought cheap vodka even though they could have afforded pretty much anything the tiny shop had to offer, then parked on a gravel path next to an empty field. Sitting on the hood of the car, even though it was cold enough that their breath was showing, Wanda took a sip right out of the bottle, not even pulling a face. Then she held it out to Natasha, who pointed at the car behind them.
“I’m driving.”
“Please. We can ask Vision to pick us up, I’m sure he won’t mind.” The exhaustion in Wanda’s voice made Nat cave, even though she didn’t know Vision that well and couldn’t say if he would mind or not. But she settled against the car window, lifting the bottle to her lips and grimaced at the taste of the cheap liquor. Wanda laid down next to her, shoulder to shoulder, as she took the vodka from Natasha. They passed it back and forth a few times before Wanda spoke, her eyes on the clouds in the sky.
“Thanks for the rescue.”
“No need to thank me.”
The bottle made another few rounds while Natasha contemplated whether she should say anything else. But Wanda spoke first.
“Everyone keeps saying that it will get better. Or easier. But it just doesn’t. Every day hurts as much as the last one. Every day I wake up and feel that he’s gone, and I feel guilt over the fact that I’m still here. It’s not changing.”
“I get it.” Natasha rubbed Wanda’s thigh in an effort to comfort her. She didn’t know how appreciated it was, but she took it as a good sign that Wanda didn’t pull away. “It doesn’t get easier. You have to learn to live in a world that keeps spinning when your personal world has stopped dead in its tracks.”
“Yeah.” Wanda sounded utterly defeated, like every ounce of joy had been sucked out of her. Her head slumped against Nat’s shoulder.
“Come here.” Natasha held out her arm, and Wanda came to rest against her. As they often did, they silently stared into the world, taking comfort in simply sharing the moment. The bottle of vodka got put aside when it was half empty, their brains buzzing with numbness and warmth.
When thinking back on that day, Natasha never managed to recount who leaned in closer, and who chose to continue. Maybe it had been both of them, maybe it had been the alcohol, but on that cold day, on the hood of the car, in the middle of a random field on the run from their responsibilities, Nat and Wanda had shared a single slow kiss. It had felt like Natasha was burning up from the inside, a pang of guilt eating away at her while she desperately clung to Wanda for more.
Then Vision picked them up, and either Wanda didn’t remember because of the alcohol, or she didn’t want to remember. Neither of them ever brought that kiss up again. Or maybe they just didn’t get around to it – because only a couple of days later, the Sokovia accords were put on their meeting room table.
During the whole conflict, Natasha wasn’t sure which side was right. They both had good arguments, and she just ended up on one side of it. Wanda wound up on the other side, along with Vision and her best friend Clint. Maybe all of her closest friends being on the opposite team should have made Natasha think, but until that last fight, she hadn’t even thought of the argument being that divisive. She hadn’t imagined fighting her friends and teammates.
This ended with Natasha being flung across an airfield somewhere in Germany, Wanda’s swirling powers gripping her ankle and hurling her to the side. What hurt more than the impact on the concrete ground was the realization that she, too, had in some way abandoned Wanda. It was perfectly clear that Wanda would never want to be controlled by anyone again, never ostracized for her powers again, but Natasha had opposed her in that. It was one of the factors that had Natasha help Steve and Bucky in the end.
In retrospect, Natasha figured the chain of events was what lead to the developments of the next year.
It didn’t take long for Natasha, Steve and Vision to figure out where their friends were held. It took even less time to infiltrate the raft, take out their surveillance and their guards. What took time to process way beyond the rescue mission was the sight of Wanda, sitting on the floor of her cell with an empty stare, legs shackled, arms bound to her upper body, neck in the firm hold of an electronic cuff. While Clint, Sam and Scott were held in adjacent cells, Wanda was on her own level, behind steel doors and multiple security checks. It took the combined forces of Vision and Nat to break through to her, and the widening of Wanda’s eyes when she spotted the two of them was a sight that Nat would never forget. They ripped through her bindings and each took one of her arms over their shoulders, helping Wanda’s stiff and unused muscles by almost carrying her to the waiting helicopter.
The relief to see all of her friends slumped into the seat of the helicopter, with bags under their eyes and their clothes hanging loose on their bodies, was so palpable in the air Natasha could almost touch it. But nothing compared to having Wanda sitting in the seat next to her, her bruised body leaning against Nat as Vision tended to her wounds. When Wanda looked up at Nat, the faintest smile tugging on the corners of her lips, the urge to kiss her almost overwhelmed Natasha.
But she didn’t. Wanda was in a vulnerable position, she hadn’t even gotten over the worst of her grief before her new friends had had a violent argument, before she had ended up in prison. Wanda should have time to heal, to patch herself back up, to regain her footing before Nat unbalanced her with her own desires and emotions.
The thing was… Vision seemed to have no issue with the situation. Just twelve hours later, after Nat and Steve had spent hours sitting together and figuring out safe spots for everyone on the team, Natasha found Wanda with her back against the wall, Vision leaning against her, the two of them engulfed in a kiss. And what tore a hole in Natasha’s heart was the fact that Wanda seemed to be fully on board.
Natasha left for Norway without saying goodbye to Wanda.
While on the run, Natasha almost forgot about her heartbreak. She was preoccupied by finding her sister and taking down the Red Room, reconnecting with her fake-but-somewhat-real family. She told herself that there was nothing to be upset about, that she had no grounds to be angry with Wanda. There had never been any talk about their relationship with each other, and while Vision had been with her in the Avengers’ argument, Nat had been on the other side.
But when Nat was laying in whatever bed she found for the night, her thoughts snuck up on her. Those small moments of sitting next to each other on movie nights or in the armchair in Wanda’s room, limbs brushing and Wanda’s head on her shoulder. The morning runs that neither of them ever missed. Their shared grief that brought them together. The memory of their kiss. On those nights, Natasha wasn’t angry. She was hurt in a way that robbed her breath, made her feel like someone had ripped out her heart and stomped on it.
When she learned that Wanda and Vision were under attack from an alien ship, Natasha didn’t waste a second to climb into Steve and Sam’s jet. She thought they were too late when they arrived, Vision leaning against a fence, heavily injured, and phasing like he was glitching in and out of reality. Wanda stood in front of him, her powers seeping from her hands and her teeth clenched as she opposed their attackers.
With combined forces, they managed to fight off the strange looking alien-monsters, their donut-shaped ship disappearing with them. Natasha had a sinking feeling that it wasn’t the last they would see of them, but for the time being, their priority was to get everyone to safety and Vision to heal. Her professionalism however suffered from the emotions that welled up with the couple sitting in the jet. They were comfortable with each other on a level that only comes from spending a lot of time together. A level of comfort that Wanda and Natasha once had – although that was apparently long gone. And, when she closed the door to the jet as the city shrank below them, she snapped. She didn’t mean to, but the frustration was pouring out on its own:
“I thought we had a deal. Stay close, check in.” She only managed to face Wanda for her last words. “Don’t take any chances.”
“I’m sorry. We only wanted time.” The way Wanda’s voice wavered and her face fell with guilt only made Natasha feel worse.
Three days Natasha avoided properly talking or even looking at Wanda while they flew around with the jet, trying to figure out where to go from here. On that third day, they made a stop on an abandoned airfield in the middle of nowhere, sending Sam to stock up on rations in the nearest town.
Steve had stayed inside with Vision, and, deciding that she should stretch her legs after being confined to a sardine tin for the past 72 hours, Nat changed into her workout gear to go for a run. Only, much to her dismay, Wanda leaned against the doorway of the jet.
“Can I come with you?”
Nat wanted to say no. There was no way they would take up what they had before being on the run from the world, the relationship had crumbled to dust over the past year. But since she didn’t really have a valid reason to say no, Natasha shrugged and started stretching while she waited for Wanda.
The only halfway walkable path was an overgrown stretch of dirt that led into the woods, so that’s where they ran. They were both nowhere near their fitness levels from before they went on the run, and while it annoyed Nat greatly, at least they were on the same page. They ran in silence, as they always had, but instead of a comfortable existence next to each other, the air was filled with tension and unspoken words.
Around the thirty minute mark, Wanda slowed down, coming to a standstill. Natasha turned around, the question of what’s going on on the tip of her tongue, but the downcast expression on Wanda’s face made her swallow down her words.
“Why are you so upset with me?”
Natasha shook her head, barely holding back the eye roll. “I’m not upset.”
“You really think I can’t tell you’re avoiding me? I know you, Nat.”
“Not well enough, apparently.”
“What are you talking about?” Wanda came closer, flinging her hands in the air in desperation. The fact that she wasn’t even getting angry at Nat made it even worse. “It’s not fair to just give me the silent treatment. I don’t-”
“You know what’s not fair?” Natasha interrupted Wanda, keeping her face blank. “That I don’t even have an answer to why. I don’t know what I did wrong, and it’s killing me.”
It took Wanda a second to answer. Her voice was quiet when she admitted: “I don’t know what you mean. An answer to what?”
Natasha pressed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth. She didn’t mean to start this conversation. No good could come from this, and yet the words worked their way up her throat until they exploded out:
“Why Vision? That’s all, Wanda, why him?”
There was a long pause that stretched time, warped it back around itself into a loop while Nat stood there and watched Wanda, whose daily proximity she missed most of all from the days before the Avengers broke up. She watched those thoughtful eyes dart across the floor, watched her hand grip her hair the same way she had when Nat rescued her from her uncomfortable conversation with Steve. Now Natasha was the one to make her uncomfortable. The fact stirred into the pool of guilt she felt, bubbling inside her and being fueled by the pain she experienced whenever she saw Wanda with Vision.
And then time stopped all together, when Wanda looked up, but somewhere behind Natasha, as if she couldn’t bear to face her directly.
“Because Vision is made out of Vibranium. Because no person on this planet could hurt him. And I can’t lose anyone else. I’m sorry for choosing him, Nat, I really am. But I couldn’t live with the thought of potentially losing you.”
The words burned in Natasha’s heart, turning it to stone. Now she had her explanation. Only that she had never wanted to hear it in the first place.
“But you did.”
Natasha couldn’t say why she spoke those words out loud. Wanda’s face fell, her eyes watering and her shoulders slumping.
“I did,” Wanda confirmed, then she ran back alone.
When she had returned to the jet, Natasha had been ready to say her goodbyes and leave to fend for herself. She couldn’t stand the thought of staying in the same tin box with Wanda for any longer, the pain was too overwhelming; especially now that she knew there had been a chance. There had been a chance, but Wanda had decided against it.
But upon arrival Steve and Sam were hectically preparing the jet for takeoff, and within minutes, they were on their way to Wakanda. From there on out, the downward spiral of everyone’s life went for a cliff dive.
In the aftermath, Natasha didn’t talk for days. She didn’t keep count of how many, but as she scoured the battlefield for hints of all the missing people, hints of their colleagues, of their friends, Natasha didn’t utter a single word. She was certain that if she tried, the dam would break and her emotions would render her useless.
Maybe she would have tried if they had found any sign of the people they were missing. But there was nothing. They had disappeared into thin air, their dust being swept away and spread out by the wind like ashes over an ocean.
The remaining Avengers ambushed Thanos. They came back with empty hands and devastated hope.
Thor went to deal with the consequences in Asgard. Rocket took his space ship and, as far as Nat could tell, had the intention to drink himself into a coma. Rhodney swore off his suit. Steve fell into a deep depression over losing Bucky again, over feeling like a failure, and Natasha couldn’t do anything to help him. And Bruce… Nat wasn’t sure how he was coping. She had been surprised to see him on the battlefield, but they hadn’t exchanged a single word. Nat couldn’t care less.
She felt responsible. While Nat had lost battles before, this was a devastating loss. It brought the world to its knees, everyone was affected. There was basically nobody left to pick up the Avengers’ mantle. Even when, like a miracle, Tony and Nebula returned from space, it was clear that this changed nothing about their situation. Nebula was picked up by Rocket. Tony sold his assets and moved far, far away from them.
Most days, Nat sat alone in the Avengers’ old base. Her things started to infiltrate every room, dishes started piling up in the sink, her hair clung to her head slick with grease. Laying on her back on the dusty floor, Nat stared at the two pictures she had of her sister. She hadn’t found anyone who had seen Yelena since the snap, and she assumed she had died like everyone else she cared about.
Roughly three weeks after the battle – Natasha still wasn't keeping track of the days – Nat went to the hangar, where Steve had parked the jet they had flown to Wakanda. He had taken his things with him, but Sam’s, Vision’s and Wanda’s bags were still where they had left them. Not even knowing what she was going to do with them Natasha brought them upstairs, leaving them in the rooms their owners had occupied before they had to go on the run.
In front of Wanda’s room, Natasha stared at the door knob for a long time. Their last interaction replayed before her eyes: Wanda on the ground, cornered by one of the alien things talking down to her. And Nat had said the last words she would ever say to Wanda.
She’s not alone.
And now here she stood. Alone. Broken. Lost.
She pushed the door to Wanda’s room open. A familiar, faint scent of candle wax and peppermint wafted through the gap, and tears welled up in Nat’s eyes. It was like opening up a time capsule when she entered the room, closing the door behind herself in the hopes that the scent would stay inside for a while longer.
The bag in her hands dropped to the floor, and Nat wandered through the room, running the tip of her fingers along the dusty surface of the furniture. Wanda hadn’t been here in years, and yet this was the closest Nat could get to her.
It awoke memories of shared evenings on the wide armchair in the corner, watching a TV show. Memories of the times she more or less pulled Wanda out of her room to get her to socialize. Memories of the nights they just spent talking, sharing, opening up.
Natasha sunk onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. The sorrow was slowly pushed aside by guilt, eating up her insides. Guilt that she was the one here, while Wanda was gone. Guilt that the last time they had a conversation, they had parted angrily. Now she would never get to make it up to Wanda.
Almost as an apology Nat got Wanda’s bag and began unpacking it. Washed or not, Nat folded the clothes and put them in the closet, sorted the few books Wanda had taken with her into her color-coded shelf, put up the pictures she found in different pockets of the bag. The very last piece she took from the bag was a jacket. Her jacket.
The folds in the leather suggested that it hadn’t been taken out of the bag in ages, resting hidden underneath all the things Wanda used regularly. But the fact that she carried it with her everywhere, even when every inch of space in the bag counted, edged itself into Nat’s heart with enough force to make the tears roll. She curled into a ball on top of Wanda’s bed, burying her nose in the jacket that Wanda had worn years ago when they first met, and the dam of emotions broke.
The five years that went by could have just as well been ten, or twenty, or a hundred. Time had lost all meaning to Natasha since there was nothing she needed it for; nothing to work towards, nothing to separate herself from.
That was until, on one of the occasional visits from Steve, a man they had thought to be dead stood on the doorstep. And just like that, a treacherous seed of hope sprouted in Natasha’s chest. Tony had almost killed it in an instant – but then he came around, and soon enough everyone who was left stood in a circle, and for the first time in ages Nat felt like smiling. For the first time in five years, Nat looked at Steve with optimism, and with a smiling “see you in a minute”, they were all pulled into the Quantum Realm.
When she reappeared in just that spot only hours later, Natasha, her heart burning, fell to her knees. The stone in her hand weighed heavy, the equivalent of a soul pulling her down, drowning her.
“Nat, where’s Clint?” Bruce of all people asked.
Natasha looked up, even though everything pulled her downwards. She faced the questioning and dreadful expressions of her friends, and in a weak voice spoke up:
“Tell me that you have your stones. I couldn't live with myself if Clint gave his life for nothing.”
They had the stones. Bruce endured the process of their self-built gauntlet, undoing the pain Thanos had inflicted on their universe. Their excitement over what they had achieved lasted for all of ten minutes, before an air strike leveled the Avengers’ compound to the ground.
But, when almost all hope was lost, portals opened in the sky and their friends and enemies flooded out. The scales were rebalanced, and with combined efforts they brought the titan to its knees.
After having passed the gauntlet on to T’Challa, Natasha watched in awe as Wanda, fueled by anger and grief over Vision, almost took Thanos out on her own. The relief she felt over seeing her again, even when she was burning with hatred, was unmatched.
And when the siege Thanos ordered to stop Wanda threw her across the battlefield, it was Nat who ran after her. She found Wanda motionless on the ground, and for one, long and terrifying second, Natasha feared she had lost her again before they had even been reunited.
But when Natasha fell to the floor next to her, hands on Wanda’s shoulders to shake her, bring her back, tell her to wake up, Wanda stirred with a groan.
And without any consideration for the injuries Wanda might have just sustained, Natasha wrapped her arms around a surprised Wanda on the ground, burying her face in Wanda’s clothes.
“We have a fight to win,” Wanda reminded Nat with a pat to her shoulder, and Natasha reluctantly disentangled herself from her.
“And we will,” she promised.
Their victory was overshadowed by the loss of their friends and loved ones. At Tony’s memorial Wanda and Natasha stood to the side, looking over the lake in silence. It was Nat who broke it in the end.
“I wish there was a way for them to know… That we won. We did it.”
Wanda looked at her for a long moment, her voice burning with pain when she said: “They know. They both know.”
Natasha didn’t know if it was good enough. But for right that second, it had to be. She put her arm around Wanda, and the latter pulled her close enough to rest her head on her shoulder.
While there had been barely anything left of the Avengers during those five years, now there was nothing left. The Avengers’ compound no longer existed, and none of the remaining Avengers had any interest in rebuilding what they once had. It would never be the same as before.
And so they all left. They rummaged through what was left of their belongings, and then went their ways.
Natasha found Wanda, staring out into nothingness with a handful of crumpled and dirty pictures in one hand, a familiar leather jacket in the other.
“I have a flat in a safe house that’s still standing,” Natasha said as she approached, “you could stay with me for a while. If you want.”
She had barely finished talking when Wanda sighed with relief.
“Yes, please.”