UNKNOWN GUEST

#88 The Raft(Part-1)

Author's POV-

The jet touched down gently on the roof of the Raft, the massive prison fortress surrounded by nothing but dark, rolling ocean waves. The hatch opened, and the group was met with a blast of cold, salty air.

It felt sharp, cutting through their clothes, but Natasha barely noticed it. She stepped out of the jet with the others—her mind already distracted by the mission ahead—until she caught sight of a familiar figure standing by a resting helicopter.

There, standing tall in the dim light of the Raft's rooftop, was Steve Rogers. The star-spangled man himself. The one for whom she had once thrown away her decisions, her loyalty to the Sokovia Accords, even the iron rules that had been drilled into her since her days in the Red Room.

For a moment, Natasha froze, her breath catching in her chest. Steve's words from so long ago echoed in her mind. "You're capable of love, Natasha."

Am I really? she wondered.

Before she could fully process what was happening, her legs were already moving. Her feet hit the ground faster, as if her body knew what to do before her mind did. She sprinted toward Steve, confusion flashing across everyone's faces—including her own.

Steve, caught off guard, turned just in time to see Natasha rushing at him. His expression shifted from surprise to something softer. And before either of them could say a word, Natasha was hugging him—throwing her arms around his torso and pressing her head against his chest.

Steve's strong arms instinctively wrapped around her small frame, pulling her close. The cold, biting wind suddenly felt warm. The darkness of the night, the shadows cast by the Raft, all of it faded away. For a moment, it was just the two of them. Natasha squeezed herself tighter against him, as if confirming to herself that he was real, that he was safe.

The rhythm of his heartbeat under her ear made her exhale in relief. She hadn't realized how terrified she was until she saw him standing there. Knowing that he and Tony had fought, seeing the bandages on his forehead and the faint marks of stitches on his lips—her chest tightened with worry. For once, she allowed herself to admit it. She had been scared. Scared of losing him.

But now, holding him, she could breathe again. He was safe. They both were.

Steve, on the other hand, let out a quiet breath he hadn't realized he was holding. When Natasha had walked away from him at the airport, stepping in to block T'Challa, he'd feared the worst. He thought Ross would imprison her alongside the others, that he wouldn't see her again—at least, not like this. But now, she was here. Safe. And everything else faded away.

Neither of them spoke. They didn't need to. The warmth of the embrace said it all—words were unnecessary. They stayed like that for a few moments longer, wrapped up in each other, the chaos of their lives briefly forgotten.

From a distance, Jason's voice broke through the quiet.

"They literally saw each other less than two days ago... and what now?" he muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear.

That snapped them both out of their trance. Natasha pulled back first, her cheeks flushed from both the cold and... well, maybe something else. Steve still held her by the shoulders, his eyes searching hers for any sign of injury.

"You're okay," she breathed, her voice laced with relief.

Steve nodded, his grip on her shoulders firm but gentle. "You're okay," he echoed, his voice warm and steady.

For a brief moment, they shared a smile—one that spoke volumes. Despite everything they'd been through, the bruises, the betrayals, and the battles—they were still here. And that was enough for now.