Romanogers - Oneshots

The price of ignorance

Steve Rogers thinks he's going to explode. Of course. How could they have been so stupid? It was so obvious. The soul stone. Nebula told them, Thanos and her sister, Gamora, had gone to Vormir themselves, and only Thanos had returned, with the soul stone instead of Gamora.

God, Steve wanted to punch himself. It was just so obvious. And none of them had seen it. All the clues, not even hidden. Totally connected in all the right ways. Practically screaming to be seen. And yet none of them had figured it out. And now she was gone. Gone. Forever. And it was permanent. Completely and utterly irretrievable. God knows, Steve had gone through it so many times in his head, trying to figure out a way, a tiny loophole. But this wasn't some made up game, a riddle for solving. A soul for soul. That's what the Red Skull had insisted the rules for this game were.

Steve puts his head in his hands, pushing palms against his eyes as if to stop them seeing, to staunch the flow of memories that won't stop coming.

He sees her every time he closes his eyes, even when he blinks, just for a second. He can't sleep; she haunts his dreams (well, they're more nightmares than anything else). He imagines her over and over, pushing of the side of the cliff at Vormir, her body hurtling down through the air for a few seconds before landing with a crack on the stone below. Mouth slightly open, the air is forced from her body, a last exhale, and hangs in the air above, before slowly dissipating. Her leg is twisted at an unnatural angle. Blood leaks from her skull, staining the stone, her last resting place. Her hair fanned out, freed from its plait by the velocity of the fall. It's fiery against the pale pallor of her skin, but even her distinctive vibrant locks are losing their lustre by the second. Her head is turned to the side, neck broken, icy eyes unseeing, empty.

He wasn't there, of course. Clint only told them vague details. At the time he hadn't even wanted to know about her jumping, but now he almost craves every detail. It would stop his mind from creating torturous after torturous scenario of its own, each one worse than the one before. His mind conjures wave after wave of torment, whenever given the opportunity, her every smile and laugh, every sarcastic quip, playing in the background next to her still body.

He didn't want to go to Vormir, and yet he did, desperately, in some twisted way. He volunteered to put the stones back in the timeline, knowing he would be forced to pay it a visit. He just wanted to see. It could give him peace. At least the setting would be set in stone in his nightmares. He wasn't even sure how he was going to do it, just that the stone had to be replaced in the exact same place in time, give or take a minute. The first five were relatively easy.

When he landed on Vormir, however, he felt different. Like he was surrounded by ghosts. And he supposed he was, but then he only knew of two people who had died here, and he was about four years too early for one of them. So just one ghost.

But he couldn't feel her. People say, or you read, that you can often feel ghosts, you can feel them all around you, their energy, as if (be there such thing as a soul) it left their body and dissipated into their surroundings, and it can remind you of the person. But he couldn't feel her. He tried, he searched to edges of his senses, but he couldn't feel a thing. Didn't get any whiffs, any flashes, any sweet reminders. The air was empty, vacant and cold, like a vacuum.

When he saw the Red Skull, he did a double take, and anger boiled up inside him. This crimson monster was responible for stealing the life of yet another dear friend.

Because that's what she was. A dear friend. One of Steve's closest, perhaps second only to Bucky, especially in recent years. Especially while they were on the run for the two years after the whole Accords debacle, when they only had each other. Especially in the last five years leading up to now. In fact, Steve could not think of a single time, in the whole time he had known her, that Natasha Romanoff had not had his back, been there when he needed her.

The Earth had suffered a great loss, one of its greatest heroes. He had suffered a great loss. He had lost one of his best friends. That's what she was. A close friend. Because Steve did not let himself feel anything deeper. He had shut out long ago any feelings that strayed over the line of friendship, all of which he knew, deep deep down, he had for Natasha. But he would not, could not, let himself feel them. Mourning a best friend was crushing, devastating. He felt it every minute of every day, deep inside. Every breath without her was a blow to his heart. If he let himself mourn with those feelings, Steve doesn't think he'll ever recover. He doesn't think he'll ever come out of the foetal position he wants to curl up into when he feels even a nanosecond of those feelings. As a friend, he's able to carry on. As that, he's sure he wouldn't be able to function. And of course, with that brings the shadow of missed opportunities, and wasted time. That is the worst of all. Because this time it's his fault.

With Peggy, it was different. He missed out on his life with her due to his own heroism, and it was against his will, at any rate. He was able to get past that. The knowledge that the blame was on an outside force gave him the strength to carry on in this new age. But this time... Well this time the blame can't be passed. This is squarely on his shoulders. He chose to push down those feelings, silence them. He chose to keep her at arm's length, never closer. He chose all of it.

It's not like he ran out of time. God, they had had seven years, practically alone. He'd known her for even longer than that. And it's not like he was busy during those seven years. Holding support groups and hiding in Scottish motels does not count as busy. No, the blame is squarely on his shoulders this time, and Steve knows that if he lets himself acknowledge it, the grief of all the wasted time, and the missed opportunities will crush him, and he won't ever emerge from that pit of despair.

He wanted her back. Oh, he wanted her back so much. When Steve looked around at the lonely cliff top, he wanted to feel something. Anything that would remind him of her, in something other than his twisted visions of her demise. He wanted her ghost to surround him, her spirit to give him the strength and bravery he needed to carry on in this harsh new reality without her. And yet he felt nothing. No stirring in the air, no hint of that perfume he used to love, no warmth, the way her smile used to light him up inside.

When he saw the Red Skull, he wanted to smash his face in. He wanted to beat that scarlet bonehead to the pulp he deserved to be. But he didn't. Something told him it wouldn't make a difference, and he wasn't here for that. He was here to restore the universe to how it was supposed to be, no matter how much personal pain it caused him. He held the stone in the small, translucent box, a faint orange glow fighting a small area of darkness out of its cosy glow. Well to some it might seem comforting; the orange glow could be likened to a warm fire. To Steve it seemed rather sinister. He hated this thing with everything in him. It had stolen from him. Killed Nat. He couldn't wait to be rid of it. He held the hateful thing in its box, and addressed the Red Skull.

"It's here."
"Just in time. The son of Edith has just departed." The gravelly voice responds.

With a stab in the gut, Steve realises he means Clint. He just missed them. Natasha just died. He doesn't want to look over the edge, to see if her body's still lying there. But he does. Not entirely sure whether this will bring him eternal torture, or slight peace, he walks to the edge of the cliff. His eyes drop down of their own accord. He's ready to see her broken body there on the stone, but it's not there. Just a blood stain remains. Steve knows that by itself will haunt him. The body's gone, whisked away by whatever divine forces control this horrific exchange.

The Red Skull holds out his hand, but Steve does not give it over yet.
"Could you bring her back? Is it possible? If I give you this stone, can that reverse the exchange?" He hears slight desperation in his voice.
"The daughter of Ivan is dead. She cannot be resurrected. The exchange is permanent." The Red Skull replies, no emotion whatsoever.

Steve is slightly shaken when he hears Natasha's father's name. It's the first time he has heard the name of any of her blood relatives. He suspects it may have been her first time when she paid her visit, too.

The information does not shock him, he does not shout, or beg for her return. He knows it will make no difference. This is just confirmation. Confirmation that rips away his last strand of hope. But Steve feels slightly more at peace. She's gone. There's nothing he can do to bring her back. She's gone. Forever. He's alone.

Steve hands over the stone, and it vanishes in the Red Skull's hands. Then he is zapped back to the present. To that harsh new reality.

Chapter 1 ✅

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