UNKNOWN GUEST

#120 A Ride From The Stars

Author's POV-

Natasha stood at the window, her gaze fixed on the sky as if it held the answer to her every fear, every prayer. She had lost track of time. Hours, days, maybe even weeks had slipped away in her vigil, but she didn't care. 

Day after day, night after night, she waited, hoping for any sign—a jet gliding through the clouds, a faint silhouette of a parachute—anything that might mean Tony and her son were coming home. But there was only silence, only the vast, empty sky stretching endlessly above her, offering no hope, no reassurance.

Inside the Avengers facility, an oppressive quiet lingered, thick and suffocating. The hallways felt haunted, their emptiness an echo of the loss each Avenger was carrying. She would sometimes catch glimpses of the others—Steve, Bruce, Thor, Rhodey—wandering the halls in a haze, moving like shadows through a world they barely recognized.

 None of them spoke much anymore, their words stripped away by the weight of their grief. Every time she passed one of them, she could see it—the quiet, gnawing dread in their eyes, the desperate need for answers that had long since turned to resignation.

The world outside their walls had descended into chaos. News broadcasts endlessly replayed the horrifying footage of people vanishing, families torn apart, lives shattered in an instant. People crowded the streets, their faces pale with fear, clutching photos of missing loved ones, searching for anyone who might understand their pain.

 But Natasha felt detached from it all. All that mattered, all that her mind could hold onto, was that her son—her James—was out there somewhere in the vastness of space. She tried not to imagine it too vividly, the endless, cold darkness he might be facing, the terrifying unknown that lay beyond this world. She just wanted to believe he was safe, that Tony was watching over him. But as the days passed, it became harder and harder to hold onto that hope.

And then there was Steve.

How could she face him? How could she stand before him and tell him the truth? She pressed her hand to her stomach, feeling the ache of absence, the void that hadn't stopped growing since that awful day. There had been life there, something precious, something she and Steve had created together—a future, their child.

 But now that future was gone, taken from them before it even had the chance to begin. She had failed, failed to protect it, to keep it safe. And that failure weighed on her heart like a stone, tightening her throat every time she thought of what she would have to say to Steve.

She couldn't bear to look into his eyes, knowing he was grieving, too. Bucky, Sam, Wanda, Vision, T'Challa—one by one, they had all vanished. How could she add to that pain by telling him that they had lost even more than he knew, that a part of their family had slipped through her fingers? She clenched her fists, feeling the burn of tears in her eyes, but she forced them back, swallowing the pain, burying it deeper.

She thought about Clint and his family, wondering if they, too, had fallen victim to whatever cosmic horror had torn her life apart. The thought twisted something in her chest, another pang of guilt for a family she couldn't help, another friend she might have lost. But she couldn't bring herself to find out, couldn't bear one more piece of terrible news.

Her eyes returned to the sky, endlessly scanning the horizon. The silence stretched on, pressing in on her like a storm cloud that refused to break. She whispered a plea, her voice barely audible.

"Please... keep him safe. Keep my son safe. Just bring them home."

It was a fragile hope, a prayer cast out into the emptiness, with nothing to hold onto but faith. Faith that somewhere out there, her son was alive, and that somehow, someday, she would see him again.