UNKNOWN GUEST

#121 Five Years Later

"Mom! I'm here. I'm here!"

The voice echoed through Natasha's mind, pulling her out of the shadows of a nightmare. She jolted awake, her chest heaving as she gasped for breath, a cold sweat clinging to her skin. Her hand went instinctively to her abdomen, resting over the emptiness there.

It had been years, yet that warmth, that fleeting sense of life, lingered like an echo—something precious yet painfully out of reach.

Her bleary eyes drifted to the clock on her nightstand, its hands pointing to the early evening. Countless sleepless nights had left her exhausted, forcing her into the habit of midday naps.

It was just another way to cope, to pass the hours, as the weight of her memories threatened to consume her. She sat up, her movements slow and measured as if any sudden motion might tear open wounds she'd fought so hard to hide.

The corridor outside her room was silent, empty, and dark as she stepped out of bed and flicked on the light.

The soft glow illuminated the space, bringing into focus the scattered remnants of her life. Her gaze fell to the two photo frames on the table nearby, each an anchor to a past that felt both close and impossibly far away.

The first photo captured Steve and James, side by side, grinning with unguarded joy. Steve's arm rested protectively on James's shoulder, and they looked so much like family—Steve's unwavering strength mirrored in James's defiant spirit. They looked happy, invincible, as if nothing in the world could ever harm them.

The second photo, though, pulled at her heart in a different way. It was from a Halloween party years ago. Jason, James—stood beside her, dressed in one of her old costumes. Tony had insisted on it, finding a twisted humor in dressing him up as his mother, complete with her iconic black suit and red hair dye.

She had laughed at first, but seeing Jason's serious expression, the fierce glint in his eyes as he tried to imitate her stance, it had touched her in ways she hadn't expected. They'd looked so much alike that night, and she'd felt the quiet satisfaction of knowing he was hers, her son.

But now, both photos were shadows of the people who'd once filled her life with purpose. James, her James was gone, like so many others, scattered to the stars in a blinding instant.

And Jason— James —had been stolen from her too, a child she'd only begun to understand, taken before she could even tell him goodbye. Five years had passed since that day. Five long, empty years since the snap that had erased half of existence and left her to pick up the pieces in a world she hardly recognized.

Grief clung to her like a heavy blanket, an unshakable weight pressing down on her every breath. It was a web of responsibility and sorrow, trapping her in its tangled threads.

Every day, she was reminded of the lives she couldn't save, the loved ones she'd lost. But she couldn't allow herself to falter. Not now. The world needed her, and if there was one thing Natasha knew, it was how to keep moving forward, even when it felt impossible.

Her eyes drifted to the calendar on the wall. Saturday. The date was marked in red ink, as it had been every Saturday for the past few years. Tonight, Steve would come by the Avengers facility for dinner.

It was a ritual they'd fallen into—a small, fragile routine that allowed them to find comfort in each other's presence, to hold onto something solid in a world that felt increasingly fractured. 

She'd insisted he leave the facility after the snap, not wanting him to be trapped in the same cycle of guilt and loss that haunted her. But she'd allowed herself this small mercy—just one evening each week, where they could sit together, share a meal, and remember.