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Maria knows better than to talk about it too much. Fury knows better than to ask how she is doing.
One year since returning back from the blip. One year since finding out Natasha was gone—not coming back. Five years that Natasha was left alone, never truly realizing the depth of Maria’s feelings.
Maria, an agent of deceit and espionage, perhaps kept no greater secret than her feelings for Natasha.
For five years they met under the cover of darkness to be with one another. To be a place of solace in the midst of their chaotic lives. To have some semblance of normalcy in an abnormal world.
Five years together. For Natasha, five years apart.
Maria remembers vividly what it was like to be with her. Her smile when they whispered to one another. The way she would curl her hair around her finger, her lips pursed, her eyes shining. The way Natasha would look at her when they made love, her gaze so full of love and trust. The smoothness of her skin, the supple curves of her body, the taste of her mouth, the smell of her hair.
It’s been one year since she lost her; she can’t imagine how Nat must’ve felt for five times as long.
In the months that followed Natasha’s sacrifice, Maria hadn’t shed a tear. She was proud of her partner, honored to have shared a life with her, as brief as it may have been. But a part of her was bitter, frustrated by Natasha’s pride and stubbornness.
She knows Natasha gave her life to save half of humanity. She gave her life to save Maria’s.
Clint shares the story of Nat sparing his life so he could return to the family he adored. She wonders why Natasha didn’t want that for herself. Why she thought she didn't deserve the same chance.
She feels around in the pocket of her oversized coat. It’s cold in Ohio this time of year. She wraps her hand around the small velvet box as she stares at the modest tombstone. The ring arrived a month before the blip, but Maria kept putting it off, finding excuses not to take the plunge.
Natasha was always busy, then she was on the lamb, then Maria was dust.
She wonders if she had only been braver, asked the question before all hell broke loose.
Would Natasha still have sacrificed herself?
Maria smirks. Of course she would have.
They both knew when they began their affair what risks they were taking on. Demotion. Expulsion. Excommunication.
But no risk was greater than the unspoken. One day, the other might not make it home.
But Maria ignored the risks, allowed herself to dive head first into the uncertainty of Natasha’s world. Maria was grateful just to be a footnote in the Black Widow’s story.
To love Natasha was easy. It was part of her appeal. But to be loved in return, that was a privilege she felt undeserving of.
She wonders if she’ll ever love again. Wonders if she’ll ever want to. Her life, her career, her responsibilities didn’t leave much room for the personal.
But Natasha changed everything. Natasha made her realize that there was more to life than S.H.I.E.L.D., more to life than the Avengers, more to life than the next great catastrophe.
When the dust settled, when the fighting was over, when the war was won. That’s when Maria would’ve been ready to ask. That’s when they could’ve moved on and started their lives together. But that day never came; at least, not in Natasha’s lifetime.
There was something so cruel about the person she cherished the most giving her life to restore her’s. Natasha couldn’t bear to live without Maria, and yet, now she was being asked to do the same. Poetic, if not brutalist.
For the first time in one year, she speaks to Natasha. It's just a whisper, reminiscent of those late nights under the sheets in Maria’s living quarters.
"If you’re expecting a thank you, you won't be getting it."
She laughs. "You're an idiot for doing what you did. I would’ve been just as happy to have died if it meant you were to keep on living. I guess we were always more alike than I care to admit."
She pulls the box from her pocket and sighs. "I was going to propose."
She opens it. A silver band with a square cut diamond glitters against the white snow.
"I love you, Natasha."
The wind whips, shaking branches from the trees adjacent to the clearing.
"I'm sorry I was never brave enough to ask."
“I practiced for every scenario. If you said yes; if you said no; if you needed time to think on it. I never thought about the possibility that you might never even get the chance to answer.”
Maria sighs.
“I think you would’ve said yes. Although, I’m sure you would’ve given me a hard time about the ring. You know I’m not good at the traditional girly stuff. I just closed my eyes and pictured what would look best on you.”
The icy wind howls in her ears.
“I still picture you wearing it. Every time I close my eyes, every time your name comes up, every time I need something to smile about.”
The reality of what she’s doing, talking to her dead girlfriend’s tombstone as Fury stands several feet away, likely within earshot, dawns on her.
She shakes her head, closing the lid to the box.
Maria places her hand on the ground, letting the cold soak into her glove.
“I’m so, so, so mad at you for leaving. But I’m so proud of you.”
The world remembers the Black Widow who, along with the other fallen Avengers, saved billions of living creatures, sacrificing herself to save the world and give her friends a chance to undo what Thanos did.
But Maria remembers Natasha for her slightly crooked smile, the kind bnoxious sound of her snoring, her complete lack of rhythm or any dance moves from this century.
She prefers it that way. She may never have fully tamed the Black Widow, but she came closer than anyone before.
“I hope you found some peace, wherever you are. I hope you're resting, because God knows you deserve it. I just wanted to thank you for the time we had together. It was the greatest part of my life. I hope that I was able to give you a fraction of the joy you gave me.”
She scratches through the frozen ground, warming it with her glove as she makes a tiny hole in the dirt.
She clears her throat.
“I’m making an executive decision. I’m rewriting our history. I was brave. You said yes. That’s how I choose to remember it.”
Maria drops the ring in the hole and pats the dirt back into place. As it disappears into the earth, a weight is lifted from her being.
"Don’t let anyone take this, OK? You look after it. Just like you looked after me.”
She rises to her feet, bites her lip as it trembles and a single tear wells up in the corner of her eye. This time, though, she leaves it, allows it to pool and grow until it dislodges and trickles down her cheek.
One day she might allow herself a cathartic self-serving cry, but today, a single tear is progress enough. Another step toward acceptance, another step toward moving on.
She stands in solemn silence as the tear turns to frost on her skin.
“It’s time to go, Hill,” Fury says as he places a hand on her shoulder.
She nods. For once she hopes that he’ll ask her how she’s doing, but she knows he’s not quite there either.
“She was a fine agent,” he says softly, his own words struggling to escape.
She nods knowing that’s the highest praise the man can give.
“A fine agent indeed,” she replies.
She returns to the black SUV and straps herself in. As Fury starts the engine and pulls the vehicle out of the clearing, she takes one last look at the makeshift memorial for the woman she loved.
She smiles, pulls her hood over her head and allows herself the cry she had been holding in for a year.
For Maria, it’s progress.