Cursed Realities

5. Harsh but True

Natasha found it unusual and asked Clint to come over. In a minute, he knocked on her door, and she let him in. She hesitantly inquired, "Has Steve gone somewhere with his car?"

 Clint's eyes sparked, and he replied, "Why don't you ask him yourself?" Natasha glared at him, and Clint shook his head, saying, "He wanted to bring you Spanish food from the restaurant you order often. Why?"

Natasha narrowed her eyes, muttering, "His car says 'nonfunctional.'" 

Clint was confused, asking, "What do you mean?" 

She explained, "Remember I bought him the car, I mean... I selected that for him. So, by mistake, its sensor is connected to my phone." 

A bad feeling touched Clint's mind, and he asked the AI of the tower, "JARVIS, when did Captain Rogers go out?" 

The AI replied, "4:45." 

Clint's heart raced as he looked at Natasha, saying, "It's already 4 hours."

Clint's phone vibrated urgently, and he hastily retrieved it from his pocket. Seeing Nick Fury's name on the caller ID, he hesitated for a moment before reluctantly answering.

"Hey, Boss?" Clint's voice wavered slightly, betraying the underlying tension. Natasha could sense that whatever news Fury had wasn't good.

As Fury spoke, Clint's eyes widened in disbelief, Natasha's piercing gaze remained fixed on him, silently demanding answers. When the call ended, Clint sighed, his breath shaky. He shifted his attention to Natasha, a storm of emotions swirling in his eyes.

"Let's go," he said, his voice holding a sense of urgency. Without waiting for Natasha's questions, he seized her hand, the grip firm and determined. Clint's actions spoke of a gravity Natasha couldn't ignore. As they sped through the city, the neon lights passing in a blur, Natasha's attempts to pry information from Clint were met with a stern silence.

The journey was filled with unspoken tension, the hum of the car's engine punctuating the ominous quiet between them. Natasha's mind raced with possibilities, her instincts telling her that whatever awaited them was significant and troubling.

Natasha and Clint arrived at the SHIELD special hospital, and the tension in the air grew thicker as they observed the security measures in place. Clint parked the car hastily, and Natasha, now more concerned than ever, tried to piece together the fragments of information she had received.

As they entered the hospital, the urgency of the situation reflected in Clint's swift movements. They rushed into the elevator, Natasha's mind racing with worry. The dots connected in a disconcerting pattern—Steve's car, the nonfunctional notification, Fury's call, Clint's urgency, and now a SHIELD hospital.

Upon reaching the designated floor, Clint dashed out of the elevator, and Natasha followed suit. The sight that awaited them intensified Natasha's concern. SHIELD agents guarded the area, and the gravity of the situation became evident as she spotted Nick Fury seated outside the operating room. Maria Hill stood beside him, her expression stern.

Natasha wasted no time in approaching Nick Fury, her voice urgent as she sought answers, "Nick, what's going on?" The air was thick with suspense, and Natasha's instincts told her that whatever awaited them inside that operating room was significant and potentially devastating.

A heavy silence draped the atmosphere, intensifying the anxiety that hung in the air. Maria Hill, her countenance burdened with the weight of unfortunate news, " Its Captain Rogers." sighed as she looked down. The anticipation in Clint and Natasha's eyes was palpable.

Clint, overcome with fear, couldn't contain himself and asked urgently, "What about him, Hill?" 

Nick Fury, usually stoic and unreadable, lifted his gaze, and in that singular eye, pain was visible—a rare vulnerability. A heavy sigh escaped Fury's lips, and he delivered the devastating blow, "Captain Rogers is down."

Those four words reverberated through the room, causing a ringing in Natasha's ears. Her mind raced to comprehend the gravity of the situation. Fear, shock, and disbelief danced in the depths of her eyes as she demanded more information, "What?"

Maria Hill, the bearer of grim tidings, responded to Natasha's plea for more information, "The news we saw a few hours ago, it was him."

Clint, grappling with the weight of the revelation, ran a shaky hand over his face. Natasha, her patience wearing thin, pressed for clarification, "What news?"

Maria hesitated, choosing her words carefully as she began to describe the tragic events, "Captain crashed his car into another, saving two kids at the bridge near the Stark Tower. His car rolled into the water, and... he choked on water, getting stuck in his seatbelt."

As Maria recounted the details, Natasha couldn't help but draw parallels to her own recent words, the echo of her wish—'I wish you would have died being stuck under the ice of the ocean.' The realization struck her with a force that sent tremors through her entire body. Overwhelmed with the weight of her words and the unfolding tragedy, Natasha shook her head and bolted towards the washroom, the imminent need to throw up a visceral reaction to the devastating news.

In the dimly lit hospital washroom, Natasha Romanoff found herself retching into the sink, the physical manifestation of the turmoil churning within her. As she looked up, splashing water on her face, her bloodshot eyes met their reflection in the mirror. It felt absurd, almost surreal. Steve Rogers had survived being trapped in the ocean for seventy years; he couldn't just die now, saving two kids.

A hollow, mirthless laughter threatened to escape her lips, but the sight of her own reflection arrested the urge. It was a lie, a cruel trick her mind was playing. "Get a grip, Natasha," she whispered to herself, as if the force of her own words could anchor her in reality. Splashing water on her face once more, she stared into the mirror, hoping to dispel the illusion.

But reality stubbornly asserted itself. Fury's words echoed in her mind—Captain Rogers was down. It wasn't a trick; it wasn't a lie. Natasha couldn't fathom how someone who had defied time and death could succumb so easily. 

The thought of adding another name to her red list gnawed at her, and she vehemently denied any culpability. She was not Natalie; she was Natasha. "You're not the Red Room agent anymore," Steve's words rang in her ears, a reminder of the transformation she had undergone.

With a final turn of the tap, Natasha switched off the water, silently composing herself. She walked out of the washroom, leaving behind the echoes of disbelief and denial. 

In the hospital corridor, Natasha stumbled upon Tony and Sam, both wearing expressions that spoke volumes of the weight they felt. Tony, glasses removed, pinched the bridge of his nose in a gesture of weariness. Sam, jacket in hand, seemed frozen in a moment of shock. Their faces, once vibrant, now reflected the acceptance of a reality Natasha wasn't ready to embrace – the absence of Steve Rogers.

As the reality sank in, Natasha felt the burden of her own words, the harshness of her rejection echoing in her mind. 'You don't belong here, Steve Rogers.' The weight of those words, uttered in a moment of frustration, now pressed on her shoulders, and the pain of the realization clawed at her. "Oh, Steve," she whispered inwardly, suppressing the sob that threatened to escape. She couldn't afford to break down, not now.

A commotion near the hospital room caught her attention – perhaps the moment to take Steve's lifeless body. But Natasha couldn't bring herself to witness that sight. She had seen him in peaceful slumber after his rescue from the ice, but this... she couldn't bear to see his lightless eyes, the spark of life extinguished. Swiftly, she turned away, determination in her steps, fleeing from the heartbreaking scene that awaited her in Steve's hospital room. She wouldn't allow herself to see him like this.