We'll Always Have This

Chapter 14

Natasha sat alone outside the compound in the rain as she often now did.

Her briefing with the others, what was left of the Avengers, had been just that- brief. There was no sign of Barton. Still, the Ronin roamed, exacting revenge on those he deemed should have been taken by Thanos, the corrupt. She pondered her existence, the point of her life given they'd failed. Her life before had been the job. She'd sacrificed so much for what had seemed the greater good. Now, her life seemed truly empty. Half of all life in the Galaxy was taken in an instant; there was nothing to protect who was left on Earth. The crime she had often fought before- Hydra, the Red Room had all disbanded when half its members had. As her mind pondered on all they'd lost, she ultimately settled on what made her saddest. It almost always did- James. She closed her eyes as they welled with tears as she recalled his last moments, stepping away from her before disappearing into dust. She regretted bitterly their last conversation, not allowing him to speak, not allowing herself to tell him how she felt. She allowed the tears to fall down her face, mixing with the rain upon her skin.

Stop it, Natasha.

Thinking about the past solved nothing. It only caused her more pain, but day after day, she sat here reminiscing and doing the one thing she'd sworn to herself never to do- regret.

Enough. Enough now.

She stood, the raindrops dripping from her fingers, and headed back inside. She was resolved to do something. It felt like the coward's way, but there was nothing else she could do. James was gone along with half of all life. She headed back into the compound to the desk she'd just sat at and hunted through the desk. What she wanted to do required ink and paper. An email wouldn't be right; James wouldn't use that. It had to be paper. She found some paper from the desk and began writing everything she wanted to tell him but couldn't. If she ever got to see him again or if he returned everything she wanted to say. Her regrets, fears, and love for him that had never left her never diminished but endured. She went through several sheets, occasionally throwing balls of half-written sentiments into the wire basket across from her. An hour or so had passed, and it was late when she read over her latest draft. Finally satisfied, she placed it in an envelope and wrote his name on the front, then placed it inside her jacket before pulling at the chain about her neck, pulling at the heavy metal tags that hung from them. She closed her eyes, tracing the numbers and letters that were etched upon them with her thumb. In the darkness, she allowed herself to sob quietly.