Romanogers - Oneshots

Unbelievable

Natasha Romanoff was dead. Actually dead. Stone cold, no heartbeat dead.

Steve couldn't believe it. He just couldn't wrap his head around it. She was just so alive. Living and breathing alive. He didn't believe she would ever die, if he was honest. It seemed so impossible.

Either one of you know where the Smithsonian is? I'm here to pick up a fossil.

So impossible that the life could drain from those bright eyes in an instant, so impossible that that adorable, playful smirk could be wiped off her face so easily. A candle snuffed out.

He looked back on all their previous missions, the time they spent together, the years, just them. He just couldn't believe it. It was stupid, but true.
He somehow still thought she was out there somewhere, that she would be coming home soon.

The person who developed this is slightly smarter than me. Slightly.

He still looked to his right when someone (rarely these days) made a joke, just so he could see that laugh light up her beautiful face again. His ears still pricked, expecting to hear a sarcastic quip. He knew exactly what she would say. But those quips never came. He still checked over his shoulder when going into a fight, expecting to see a reassuring smile. He kept expecting her to call out from behind him, put a hand on his shoulder, kiss his cheek.

Nothing lasts forever.

But she never did. Because she was dead.

He didn't want to accept that he'd run out of time. Run out of time to tell her just how much she meant to him. Run out of time to ask all those questions he never got to ask. He knew a lot about her, and he didn't. What was her favourite movie? Did she ever miss Russia? What was her favourite colour? He'd guess she wouldn't miss Russia, because as far as he could tell the only Russia she knew was the Red Room and KGB. He would guess her favourite colour was red, but he didn't know for sure because he never asked her. And now he would never know. Never know the answer to all his secret questions, never hear her voice, hear her laugh again, never. Ever. Because he had run out of time.

Kiss me.

He would have to live out the rest of his life knowing she was gone, knowing he would forever be alone. Because he couldn't move on with anyone, not even Peggy, after Natasha. He still loved Peggy, but not with the passion of before. Now it was a slight pull in the pit of his stomach, a pull of longing for a life he never got. And he never could have that life. Of course, it was completely possible, their little time travel invention ensured that. But he didn't want it. Not anymore. He couldn't. Not after knowing her. Loving her.

The truth is a matter of circumstance, it's not all things to all people all the time, and neither am I.

This wasn't like Peggy. With Peggy, she had never really been gone, and even though he couldn't have her, he had had the comfort that she had moved on from him and lived a happy life. But Nat...She had not gotten to live her happily ever after. She had died at peace, maybe, but not happy, he could be sure of that.
Steve couldn't move on with anyone else. It wouldn't be fair to them. He had thought about it as soon as the time machine worked. It fluttered around his brain like a butterfly, an idea half-formed, until he pushed it aside. Later, he told it. When it's all over. But after she died, Steve knew he could never. How could he steal the happy life Peggy was supposed to lead when he knew he could never give her everything she deserved, everything she wanted, that he no longer did? Everyone expected him to, but he didn't.

I didn't want you to be alone.

Loving her.
He didn't want to admit it, but it was impossible to ignore. It pushed at the edges of his consciousness constantly, every second of every minute of every hour of every day. But it was killing him. Gnawing him from the inside out. He loved her more than words can say, but she was gone, and he was alone, and it was killing him.

See you in a minute.

Natasha Romanoff was dead, and Steve didn't know how he was going to cope.

What can I say? I just really love writing about grief. I find it so much easier than bright and shiny stuff.