Eliza Miller's funeral takes place on a sunny Wednesday. The light breeze is mild, makes the flowers quiver. The discreet sky is pastel blue; in the distance, thick clouds are gently rolling in.

All are gathered quietly around the grave lying only a few feet apart from Robert Miller's. There is nothing but the solemn sound of the eulogy and the humming of the rustling leaves from the trees nearby. Eliza's kindness did not leave indifferent as demonstrated yet again by the high number of individuals gathered in a dense circle.

Katherine stands slightly apart, the closest to the grave. She stares at the newly-turned earth, head down and gaze fixed. Her eyes are dry and warily keep the secret of her mournful turmoil. Steve is by her side, hands in the pockets of his dark suit, his clenched jaw hung to sorrowful eyes. The reverend's words sound out in his ears like the final continuous buzzing of bells before dying out forever.

He feels her cold hand touch his knuckles and her fingers slowly wrap around his hand and hold on. He glances at her and finds the same unwavering gaze fixed on the grave. Lost and desperate. He gently closes his hand around hers.

Across from them, on the other side, someone watches this wordless interaction take place. Jake's eyes quietly dwell on their hands then roam up slowly before dropping completely.

The wake at the house goes on quietly. The sound of the rain pattering on the roof sneaks its way inside. People talk, eat and drink with respectful sobriety. All have contributed and brought meals now lying on the long table at the end of the room, some of which are still wrapped.

Katherine does not touch any of it. She dwells on from one guest of another with cordial but remote friendliness. All welcome her company with affectionate compassion, gently press their hands on her shoulder or grin soothingly. Steve has joined the gathering. He talks politely to some of the guests he knows, throwing frequent glimpses at her from where he is standing.

By the evening, everyone has almost gone. Both are now feeling the weight of this heavy day. Standing by the entrance door, George and his wife are saying goodbye; they squeeze her hands comfortingly before stepping out.

Jake follows closely behind and stands in front of her. His expression conveys earnest sadness.

"I'm so sorry, Kate," he murmurs softly. Her face is expressionless and dull. Weary. He leans in and holds her in his arms in a strong and lingering embrace that betrays feelings lying under the surface. Her arms hang loosely and she doesn't move. He eventually pulls away and gazes at her with a wistful look. He pauses and glances over at Steve who just passed across the room. "I just wanted to say," he continues. "I understand now. And it's okay."

He nods to himself and walks through the door, leaving a heavy silence behind him.

Later that night, after all the cleaning, Katherine and Steve are lying silently in her bed, bathing in the infinite darkness of the night. His arms are closely wrapped around her small body, shielding her from any more harm.

After long minutes, the sound of her weeping finally echoes across the room. He kisses the back of her head and holds her closer.

Three weeks go by during which the sight of the empty chair at the head of the table at breakfast and dinner, the collection of plants in the patio and the silence which bears the absence of Eliza's voice painfully acute at first, grows odiously tolerable over time.

Katherine receives a letter inviting her to attend a meeting with a lawyer whose name she has seen on some administrative documents when she was sorting through paperwork.

She goes alone and drives to the city 60 miles away. The man is courteous, slightly short but slender. His nose is long and straight with soft blue eyes hidden behind a pair of rectangle glasses. He invites her to sit and, after going through formalities she does not pay much attention to, mentions the Miller property. Her body stiffens slightly in response.

"If it's about the mortgage, I reckon it was paid for years ago. I am quite sure of it," she comments. And by being sure of it, she means Eliza was — and, of course, there is, therefore, no reason to question it.

The man smiles and shakes his head politely. "Nothing of the sort, ma'am."

She nods mechanically with a slightly haggard expression which conveys her puzzlement.

"Mrs. Miller named you the legal beneficiary of the house and the entire property for that matter."

Her eyes remain still in bafflement. The man reads her expression and pulls out a document from the folder open in front of him.

"To my dear Katherine, who filled my life and heart like the most affectionate child would, you who have put order, love and joy in what had become a soulless house after the terrible event the world has known and the passing of Robert, it is only natural that this property you have made a warm hearth again legally goes to you," the lawyer reads the lines without a pause.

Katherine's eyes fill with tears. She looks up at the ceiling and smiles.

"I assume you were aware already," he adds, putting the document down.

"I wasn't," she answered with a fond smile — only Eliza could keep secrets from her.

"Mrs. Miller was absolutely resolute on this matter. You are also to inherit the car and the guesthouse business title —although she mentions you are free to do whatever you please with it. Only a few personal items are to be handed down to some distant relatives or friends. And…," he pauses, picking up the document again, "I trust you with Riley: she is a little bit of Robert and, with time —albeit fast enough—, she won my heart and also became a little bit of me."

Kat nods as she wipes her fingers across her cheek. "Of course," she whispers as a quiet promise to her dear friend.

The man looks at her with circumstantial but genuine sympathy worn by years of routine practice. "Some papers need to be signed and approved but it'll only be a matter of weeks before you receive the official papers."

Grief and joy meet and blend together in the most unexpected way.

The following evening, they have dinner and Steve has abstained to ask any question about the meeting. Her fork wanders aimlessly across the plate, leaving the food almost untouched. After putting the last clean dishes into the cabinet, she wipes her hands dry with the tea towel and puts it down near the sink. She takes a deep breath in and turns around with a determined but serene expression.

"I've inherited the house," she breathes out, hands clutched on the edge of the furniture her back is leaning on.

He smiles. "It's fantastic. You deserve it."

She nervously rubs the spot under her nose. "This…this is my home and I love it here. I can't see myself living anywhere else…ever. I owe it to Eliza and I know this is where I belong."

He gulps down quietly as he feels the gravity in her voice. "I understand," he murmurs softly.

She nods to herself and clears her throat, fighting back the lump stuck at the back of it. "And I can't possibly ask you to stay here with me…not when you have another life waiting in New York, and other hopes for the future. It would be selfish of me to expect you to leave all that behind to stay in the middle of Louisiana." She stands back straight and walks over to him, "whatever your decision is I will accept it but for what's it's worth I wanted to tell you…," she trails off as her dark green eyes quiver and start to gleam as they dive into his, "I love you. I am painfully aware I'm only half of someone now — and probably forever— but know that I love all of you with all that is left of me."

Her words sink in like the most delectable nectar. He gazes into her eyes with wide, darkened pupils and pounces on. His mouth crashes fiercely on hers, eager and unstoppable. A deep moan comes from the back of her throat and he presses his body against hers, pinning her against the kitchen cabinet behind her. His hand delicately cups the side of her face as his lips continue to move insatiably and taste the sweetness of her mouth. He deepens the kiss, sending a galvanizing flow of pleasure through their two bodies. His hands firmly capture her hips and scoop her up on the cabinet; she clutches her knees around his waist to keep her balance.

His lips begin their descent down her jaw and along the nape of her throat while one his hand sneaks under the fabric of her dress and roams up her thigh. His fingertips teasingly graze over the sensitive skin of her inner thigh; it sends shivers up her spine and she puts her hand near the sink for support as her body arches back while a moan of pleasure escapes from her lips.

They have not been intimate since that last night at the Avengers facility and the reunion of their greedy bodies throws them in a frenzy. He pulls her back against him and her hands hastily reach down to the hem of his shirt and pull it off of him. His bare, muscular back glistens under the warm artificial light.

He responds by tearing her dress off of her, sending a couple of buttons fly across the room. His fingers slip under her buttocks and lift her up.

He's headed towards the staircase but her husky voice whispers hoarsely against his neck. "No. I want you now."

He turns left and ushers them both through the door to the painting room. He squats down and gently lays her down on the thick sheet spread across the area she uses for painting. Her latest canvas is still hung on the wooden stand nearby.

She unbuckles his belt, pops the buttons up and pulls his trousers down.

After they make love —during which she cries out as she welcomes the cathartic wave of pleasure her mind and heart have been deprived from for the past three weeks—, their tangled, panting bodies finally surrender to rest. He drifts off to sleep to the coming-and-going of her bosom and to her soft voice whispering I love you like the most incandescent truth.

He dreams of Natasha this night. Not a memory, like he has countless times before. Both are standing at the top of the Vormir cliff. Natasha is standing right at the edge taking in the desolate scenery in front of her. He cautiously comes closer, stretching out an arm toward her.

"You don't have to do it," he pleads gently, "just give me your hand and I'll pull you back to safety."

Natasha turns around and he alarmingly glances down at her feet, anxious to see her fall. Her expression is serene and remote.

"What are you doing here, Steve?" she asks.

He steps closer again and motions for her to move forward with his fingers. "Don't do it, please. Don't jump."

Her eyebrow arches and she gazes at him.

"But I have jumped already."

His eyes fill with tears. He shakes his head.

"No. No. I can save you. If you just give me your hand, I swear you'll be ok."

"I am ok," Nat says. The reflection of the eclipsed moon beacons in her eyes.

"It doesn't have to be this way, though. I can change everything."

The cold wind flies across her face, ominously pulling her in towards the precipice. She smiles at him and takes a step back closer to the edge; her heel is hovering in the air.

"For me, it is the end. It is a new beginning."

He furrows his brows perplexedly. "What?" he whispers with a breaking voice.

"You can catch me, though," she says.

She lets herself fall backward into the dark void.

Steve darts forward screaming and reaches out. His hand catches hers and his fingers securely wrap around it. He opens his eyes in relief and looks up. His brows furrow in confusion.

He is not holding onto Natasha.

Her blond ends have disappeared. Her black catsuit has been replaced with a flowing cotton dress. Katherine is smiling at him.

When he opens his eyes, his arm is draped over the sleeping bare figure of Katherine. The sunlight is passing through the windows and shining on across the room, adding vibrancy to the colorful canvas standing over them. He plants a kiss on her shoulder and gets up.

After putting on his jeans, he walks through the door to the dining room and picks up his shirt, lying on the kitchen floor. He steps out on the porch and bathes in the warm sunlight.

He walks over to the lawn and wanders musingly to the lake.

When he comes back to the house, Katherine is sitting in the couch in fresh clothes and with washed, damp hair. Her eyes dart in his direction and watch him circumspectly.

"Morning," he says.

"Hi," she answers. She stands up and goes to the kitchen. "For a moment I thought you had gone. Went upstairs to your room to see if your stuff was still there."

"I'm sorry. I needed to gather my thoughts."

She smirks wistfully. "You know you send mixed signals? After what I told you and when we…I thought maybe you had made up your mind. And then I wake up alone."

He comes over to hold her arm but she jerks away.

"I can't do this anymore… be in this unhealthy competition with my past self, feel like I'm stuck in this crazy triangle. If I am not enough then leave."

He frowns deeply and steps in front of her.

"You are enough," he says, forcing eye contact with her. "You're right. I let this situation linger on far too long. I was so scared of the idea of losing Natasha again that I wind up almost losing you now."

He looks down at his shoes and snorts ironically. "I got it all wrong. I kept waiting for Nat to come back when she's never truly gone. Yesterday you said you're only half of a person but it's not true. You are Natasha. And she is you."

His thumb strokes across her cheek and he smiles fondly. "Her memories may be gone but this soul I adore so much — that I fell in love with when I met her and fell further for when I found you— I can see it right now in your eyes staring back at me. I love you," he pauses and laughs, "madly for who you once were and for whom you have become. And you changed me, too. You put the soldier I was at ease and made me discover a life of peace and happiness. A life without a war."

She smiles through her gleaming eyes. They both laugh and he leans in to kiss her. "I love you," he repeats between many kisses on her lips and all over her face.

A week later, Steve, Sam and Bucky are sitting on the porch drinking a cold lemonade.

"So what did you ask us to come here for?" Sam eventually says after small talk.

Steve smiles and nods. He reaches over and picks up his shield he has asked his friends to bring along with them.

"I wanted you to try this on," he tells Sam.

Wilson blinks and glances over at Bucky who smirks at him knowingly. With respectful delicacy and hesitation, he finally takes hold of the shield, slides his arm through the straps and holds it up.

"How does it feel?" Steve asks.

Sam pulls out of this moment of grace and clears his throat.

"Like it's someone else's," he answers matter-of-factly. Wistfully.

Steve smiles. "It isn't."

Sam is frowning. "Why?"

"I left you in charge of the team when I took my indefinite break and you did better than I could."

Sam processes quietly and nods. "So, this is no longer a break, is it?"

He turns and looks at the bucolic scenery before him.

"I'm right where I'm supposed to be. This is my home," he says with an assured nod and looks at Sam with a smile. "But the world still needs Captain America. You'll make a wonderful one, Sam. I know it."

Sam takes a deep breath in, overwhelmed by the emotion and pride.

"It'll be my honor, Steve."

He smiles and taps his friend's shoulder. Bucky comes in to stand behind Sam.

"So now that you have the shield does it mean I can get —"

"Don't even think about touching my wings," Sam cuts in very sternly.

Bucky looks over his shoulder at Steve, then he shrugs softly. "At least I tried."

After spending the night, the two friends are on the go.

"What's the check-out policy?" Sam asks teasingly to Steve and Kat standing by the kitchen counter.

"It's on the house," Katherine says with a smile concealing her pale expression, leaning an arm on her man's shoulder.

They hug and all promise to visit again soon. Steve watches as Sam passes through the main door with the shield in his arm.

For him, it is the end.

"You okay?" Kat asks, soothingly running her palm across his back.

He turns to look at her and nods. "Yeah. The shield is in safe hands."

"It doesn't mean it's not difficult to part from it," she says.

He smiles down at her and holds her face. "It isn't," he answers earnestly.

He notices her slightly haggard expression. "Is everything all right? You barely ate anything."

A bashful grin comes across her lips.

"I'm pregnant," she says.

The world around him stands still. Tears come to his eyes.

"What? How?" he beams cheerfully.

He recalls that time Natasha told him about the Red Room and their initiation ritual. But then he understands — she's been healed. Made anew. And the absence of the scar made by the Winter Soldier was the very evidence of it.

Katherine shrugs and smirks playfully. "You're way past the age of the Storks story, right? It's what happens when a man…"

He cuts her in with a long, tender kiss.

He finds himself feeling grateful to the very Universe which had once ripped his happiness away.

It is a new beginning.

A month has gone by and Steve and Katherine are enjoying what is one of the last days of the mild fall. Sitting by the lake with a basket full of food, Steve is lying across the thin blanket, head resting on her lap, close to her stomach.

Clint, Laura and the children are coming to visit tomorrow. After they decided to put an end to Miller's Guesthouse business, they realized the house was big enough to welcome beloved guests and friends instead.

"The children will love you," he tells her as his palm sweeps across her stomach tenderly.

"I'm sure I'll love them, too." After a pause, she says: "After meeting with Eliza's lawyer, I started a procedure. Just received the official documentation this morning."

"What procedure?" he asks.

She reaches for a folded paper in the back pocket of her jeans and hands it to him.

As he opens it, she says: "It was time to claim who I am."

His eyes skim through the letter and fall on the words centered in the middle of the page.

New legal name: Katherine N. Miller

"I'm no longer a Doe," she says with an emotion hardly concealed. Relief and pride.

His eyes linger on the subtle homage to her past self. N. like Natasha.

"It has a nice ring to it," he comments. Her name couldn't have been a better embodiment of the person she is now.

She smiles. "I agree."

"I hardly look beautiful," she laughs in her pillow as they both stare at the round belly peeking out. "Soon I won't be able to see my feet!" Their two hands intertwine and rest on her belly. "How's the cradle coming together?" she asks.

"Just a few adjustments to make and it'll be good." He has spent the past weeks preparing the baby's bedroom.

"I think it's very sweet that you wanted to build it yourself," she says. Then her smile turns into a smirk. "And very sexy."

He cocks an eyebrow. "Is that you making a move on me? Because it's becoming quite difficult to read through your hormonal phases."

She begins to nibble on his ear playfully.

"Is that enough of an answer?" she purrs.

"I guess," he jumps in surprise as she bites his earlobe between her teeth. He leans in and kisses her fully.

The phone rings and interrupts.

"It's Banner," he says, looking at his screen.

Kat gets up and puts her on her robe. "Take it. I'm hungry for chicken anyway," she says, disappearing into the hall.

"It's 8 a.m!" he exclaims before smiling and picking up. "Hi, Banner. What's up?"

The scientist's voice is uncharacteristically enthusiastic.

"I managed to get in touch in Thor. He's somewhere in the Large Magellanic Cloud with the Guardians. That's why it took us so long to find him."

Steve frowns, quite perplexed. "Good. What about him?"

"He said he might know of some device powerful enough to cancel the effects of an Infinity Stone. Steve, it might work! It might bring Natasha back."

Steve listens numbly over the line.

"He said it'll take several months before he gets his hands on it and comes to Earth but it's still the best shot we got, right?"

Remote hope begins to grow, but one that he does not wish to fuel.

"It's great, Bruce," Steve answers coolly. "I'll let Kat know and get back to you."

He says thank you and hangs up.

Coming down to the kitchen to the smell of frying chicken breast, he leans on the counter and watches Katherine as she picks up a plate and turns over the meat with hungry eyes.

She is happy and so is he. He does not give much thought to the news he has just received. As wonderful as it would be to get Natasha's precious memories, he relishes in the perfection of this blissful morning.

He has come such a long way and nothing makes him happier than the certainty that the woman he loves is right by his side.

Blithely filling that space next to him.

Author's note: Thank you for accompanying me on this journey till the end of the line! Can't wait to read your comments! Much love to you xx