See You In A Minute

PART IV

Natasha was sure she was dead. She must be. That was the only explanation. How else could Steve Rogers be standing there, right in front of her eyes, ready for battle? Alive... This must be some delirious hallucination of her's, deluding her from the grim reality of the situation. She was going to feel the brunt of Thanos' blade any second now, maybe it had already skewered her, and she was yet to realise it. This must be some beautiful afterlife, a place where she could rest after a long, arduous life.

It all made sense... except for the fact that Thanos was here too. Natasha didn't know a lot about the afterlife - she was hardly the religious type - but she did know that, if one did exist, there was no way that Thanos would end up in the same place as Steve Rogers. Not by a long shot. People like Thanos were bound for somewhere far deeper, far worse than what people like Steve deserved.

Still, considering what she was seeing, it looked like the super soldier was about to send him there.

The first hit collided with Thanos' jaw like a freight train, as Steve came charging at him. The brunt of Mjolnir, swinging faster than the eye could see, was thrown up into the purple alien's face before he had time to react. The impact sent the mad titan flying off his feet in a tall arch. The Goliath was buried into the ground as he landed, his armour doing little but weigh him down.

Thanos quickly recovered, staggering to his feet. He grabbed his sword just in time to block Steve's shield from hurtling into his face. The shield twirled high into the air. With supernatural accuracy, Steve threw Mjolnir above Thanos' head, hitting the shield on its broad face. The hammer ricocheted, crashing into Thanos' back, sending the shield right back into Steve's waiting hands as he followed up with a knee aimed at the titan's face.

Thanos growled and threw a punch, missing Steve's head by inches. He tried again, only to wilt as Mjolnir collided with his knee. Thanos had but half a second before Steve continued his attack, hitting him once, twice, three times in the face in rapid succession. The soldier swiftly followed by hurling his shield into Thanos' jaw, only for Steve to hit it straight back on the rebound, like a batsman hitting a perfect home run.

The giant withdrew, still recovering from the assault, opening his eyes just in time to see Steve call a bolt of lightning to the weapon in his hand. The hammer glowed, and Steve swung. A blast of electricity barrelled towards Thanos and sent him sprawling, pushing him through the dirt like a plough. Steve raised the hammer once more. A second bolt descended, hitting Thanos where he lay. The titan let out a tortured cry as thousands of volts flooded his bones, sparking every synapse.

Barely a second later, Steve brought the hammer down hard on Thanos' head, shattering the mad titan's helmet in two. The alien warlord scrambled to his feet, swinging his fist desperate to get in a hit. A wide punch left Thanos open, as Steve swung the hammer as hard as he could straight in the titan's abdomen. Thanos went flying, falling past the lip of the crater left by his attack, rolling out of view.

Out of the fight, if only for a few seconds. Perhaps they had a chance, after all.

Steve wasted no time rushing to Natasha's side, making use of the small window of time he had made for himself.

"You okay?" he asked, checking her over. His hands went to her cheeks, her arms, her sides, his eyes darting over her. Natasha's were locked solely on his face, unable to look away.

"You're alive," she breathed, too tired to deny the tears that were leaking from her eyes. The man in front of her smiled, his eyes shining.

"Well, I couldn't leave my best girl," he replied. "Not when she needs my help."

Summoning a strength she didn't know she had, Natasha leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his neck. Steve's hands went to her back, supporting her as he brought her into a careful, soft embrace.

"How are you here?" Natasha whispered.

She felt a rumbled against her chest as he chuckled.

"Does it matter?"

Natasha smirked, her fingers tightening around the material of his uniform.

"No, not really."

It was a perfect moment, even amidst the debris, choking on dust and blood. Steve was here, holding her, and a for a moment, she could almost forget how unbelievably outmatched they were. A single word, spoken from afar, smug and drawling, brought it all crashing down.

"Adorable."

The pair parted, turning to find Thanos, standing on the far bank of a vast plain of rock. He stood, his sword buried upright by his side. Behind him, cresting the lip of the opposite bank, rows and rows of Chitauri warriors, embarking from towering ships, protruding from the ground like obelisks, each one protruding hundreds of soldiers, armed to the teeth. Running alongside them were swarms of feral outriders, multi-limbed monsters with teeth like knives and the strength of men in each of their six limbs. They looked up, spotting a long line of spacecraft disembarking from Thanos' ship, looming over them.

The full might of Thanos' army was here, ready to wipe them off of the face of the Earth.

"The soldier and the spy," the mad titan continued. "I know all about you. Everything. You've no idea how long I've waited to finally put this stubborn, annoying little planet under my boot. I try not to take too much satisfaction in my work, but here? I'm gonna enjoy this, very, very much."

Distant roars caught their ears, drawing them to a mother set of grounded spacecraft. The broadside opened up to reveal hulking, hairy, gorillaesque abominations, walking on all fours. Their metal collars were struck off, and the creatures screamed a primal cry of blood lust. Just one looked strong enough to match the Hulk, and Thanos had dozens.

The horror continued, as dozens of Leviathans swooped in from above, their armoured skin and long, sharp teeth glinting in the gloom. Each of them was flanked by a dozen smaller ships, with coming, birthed from the belly of Thanos' ship like wasps from a nest.

And to top it all off, a blue beam of light hit the earth, just behind Thanos himself. Four figures stepped out, revealing themselves to be the Children of Thanos, ready to do battle.

What little hope Natasha had was squashed mercilessly, strangled into nothingness at sight of such overwhelming opposition. There was no way they could compete against that. Even if they had the rest of the team by their side, if it were somehow more than just the two of them, the odds were stacked so highly against them, it was almost laughable.

They weren't going to win this one. It was that simple.

And yet, in the face of it all, Natasha heard Steve's encumbered sigh, as he began to rise.

"No, please," she begged, holding on as hard she could, her grasp on his shoulders tightening into a solid grip. "Not against that."

Of all the tortures in the world Natasha had witnessed, all the worst pains she had suffered, nothing could compare to what she knew she was about to see. Even with the entire universe faced against him, Steve would never back down. Even now, Natasha could see the rebellious spirit gleaming in his eye, burning as brightly as it ever did. He was going to fight, with just a shield and a hammer as his weapons, all on his own.

And, without a shadow of a doubt, Natasha knew he was going to lose.

The idea of it made Natasha physically sick. A cold, ugly sensation, like something had crawled into her chest and had begun to rip itself out, reared its head. At least when Steve was on Vormir, she wasn't there to see his demise. Now, she had been given a front-row seat to her worst nightmare, with no choice but to watch on like some sick play.

All of a sudden, she wasn't the ruthless Black Widow, nor was she Natasha Romanoff, a mighty Avenger. Now, as she held Steve in her arms, all composure forgotten, she was just Natasha, a woman who didn't want to have to watch the man she loved die. Not when she had just got him back.

As she felt Steve pull her into his chest, feeling his breath on her neck and his lip press an earnest kiss on her cheek, she knew exactly what he was about to say.

"I have to try."

If there was any doubt that Steve had returned from the grave, it was gone now. This was him, the one and only. Somehow that made what was to come hurt so much more.

"I'm glad…" she managed to wrench from her throat, "that I got to see you one last time."

Steve's fingers tightened around her in a grip that felt identical to her's, as if he was just as reluctant to let go as she was. As if he was feeling the exact same emotions as her. Loss, regret, fear… and something unspoken. Something more profound and more potent than anything else.

"Me too."

She caught a glimpse of a shimmer pooling at the edges of Steve's eyes, as he turned, squaring up against the army across from him. Natasha held on for as long as she could until she could feel him no longer, her fingers slipping away from his grasp. Steve stood, tightening the strap of his shield, and slowly began walking, straight towards Thanos and his forces, without a hint of fear or hesitation. Straight towards his death.

Natasha forced herself to watch, forcing herself to see him for as long as she was allowed, to savour these last few moments, before the inevitable. The army would begin their charge any second now. It was only a matter of time.

"Cap…"

It was faint; it was muffled; it barely resembled a message, but it stopped every other thought in Natasha's head in its tracks. That voice. Natasha had heard that voice before. Not in a long time, but she would recognise it anywhere.

"Captain, do you read me?"

She saw Steve's stride come to a halt, his hand slowly reaching up to the comm device in his ear. He had heard it too. That brilliant, impossible message.

"Cap, it's Sam, can you hear me?"

For a moment, Natasha forgot to breathe. She surely must be dead now, she thought. This miracle could not possibly be happening. It was beyond any dream she had very had of this day. But even so, as a faint spark began to appear just to her side, opening up into a flaring hole, she knew that fate had finally rewarded them.

"On your left."

Beyond the portal was bright sunlight, piercing and beautiful, masking the three figures marching into the war-torn landscape. Natasha realised who they were immediately, and her tears began an encore as the king of Wakanda, flanked by his lieutenant and sister, made themselves known. She knew that Steve could see them too, by how he had turned back, staring wide-eyed and open-jawed, his hand still touching his earpiece in shock.

T'Challa smiled at them both, as the Falcon - Sam, alive and well - soared out of the very same portal, arching into the air.

The air around her began to twinkle, as several more spots spark into life, like stars in the night sky. One portal became five. Five became ten. Ten became dozens. And like the arrival of a great storm, they were no longer alone.

Thousands of people - so many Natasha recognised, and many, many more that she didn't - began marching into the fray.

One portal revealed a man, floating upon a large, red cape, his hands illuminated with glowing energy. To his sides are a group of strange-looking people. A muscle-bound, shirtless man, covered in bright red tattoos, wielding two knives the size of her forearm. A lady with two antennae sticking out of her head and eyes the size of saucers, clad in a green suit. Another, flying onto the scene in rocket boots; his helmet melted away to reveal a human man, decked in all red and flexing two twin blasters.

Then, another human, smaller, lither, swinging on a thread of webbing. They landed, and the mask came down. It was the kid from Germany, the one that Tony had lost; Peter Parker. He was back.

They were all back.

Bucky, Wanda, Groot, T'Challa, Sam, Shuri.

And so many more - so many. Lines of people stretching out as far as the eye could see. Wizards, aliens, Wakandans, Asgardians, spacecraft, fighter ships - even a pegasus. And, as if it weren't already enough, the roof of the compound came crashing open, and Giant-Man stepped forth, bearing the rest of the team safely in his palm.

An army all of their own.

Of course, it was only now that Tony and Thor decided to wake up, similarly captivated by the scene in front of them. Natasha particularly enjoyed the look on Tony's face as his wife landed in her own Iron-Man suit, her faceplate opening up to reveal a determined scowl.

And then their eyes fell on Steve for the first time, and their awe became shock.

"You guys can see him too, right?" Tony asked as they gathered on the front line, Thor having helped Natasha up to her feet. Steve just laughed.

"You missed me?" he grinned, casually jostling Mjolnir in his grip, to which Thor beamed.

"I knew it," he nodded.

"Yeah, yeah," Tony scoffed. "Boy scout is worthy, meanwhile-"

"Nice to see you back in business," Natasha smiled, "After your little power nap back there."

"Talk about time-out," Tony raised an eyebrow, gesturing to the super soldier in front of him. "This guy's been out for a whole day."

"Mainly 'cause I was dead," Steve reminded him.

"Speaking of which," Tony continued, "welcome back, nice to see you - oh, and by the way - how?"

Steve shrugged.

"I walked it off."

Natasha glanced around, one last time, at the expanse of heroes on their side, then back towards Thanos, standing alone in the distance. He appeared far less confident than he did before.

"Nat."

Steve's voice called her back to him, as he handed her his shield, a smirk on his face.

"It suits you."

A blooming warmth erupted through her chest. She took it gladly, strapping it onto her arm proudly, and suddenly she felt like she could run a marathon. Or something to that effect.

At last, with everyone she could possibly want by their side ready and raring to go, Steve stood tall and bellowed.

"AVENGERS!"

He raised Mjolnir skyward, summoning a bolt of lightning. It struck with a thunderous boom, the metal ringing like a bell. The battlefield fell silent, all ears and eyes trained on them. All six of them.

Steve lowered the hammer, pointing it towards the enemy.

"ASSEMBLE!"

Natasha had attended too many funerals in her life. So many, in fact, that she was almost becoming numb to it. Then again, that more came down to the fact that most of the ceremonies she had witnessed were formalities, either being dedicated to people she didn't much like, or part of a grander mission, merely a means to an end.

Sometimes, however, she had to attend funerals of people she did care about - the worst one's in her opinion, simply for the fact of their existence. Peggy Carter's was one. Phil Coulson's was another. And Tony's ceremony was the next in a line that already far too long.

This was definitely one of the funerals that hurt the most.

In the end, she attended two separate ceremonies dedicated to the late Tony Stark. The first was organised and performed in Washington, blessed by the president himself. It was a stilted affair, more of a recognition than a remembrance. Natasha struggled to get through it, even with Steve by her side, hanging onto her arm, absorbing the attention like a sponge in his old Army uniform.

The second funeral was for close friends and family only, and it was the one Natasha definitely preferred. It was a profoundly sombre day, taking place at Tony's lake house, hosted by none other than Pepper. God, Pepper, she thought solemnly. Losing Tony was undoubtedly hard on all of them, but Pepper was his wife, the mother of his child, the person who understood him better than anyone. Natasha could only imagine what she was going through.

Or perhaps she could relate, Natasha realised, as her hand subconsciously tightened around Steve's arm, recalling that awful day when she thought she'd never see him again. She felt a hand coming to rest against her's, and she leaned against his shoulder.

The couple stood on the landing jetty, behind Tony's closest family, as Pepper sent the last piece of her husband floating on the surface of the dark waters. Natasha thanked every deity she knew that she was not here alone - that Steve wasn't here alone, forced to bear the weight of his grief all by himself. A thought burrowed into her mind of Steve standing on this very jetty with no one by his side, the same forlorn expression on his face, without her or anyone else to console him

The image left her mind as quickly as it appeared, forced from her head as Natasha chose to focus on the scene in front of her. On the here and now. They had won. The rest of her friends and family were alive. Most of them, anyway. She had that to be thankful for, at least, because now… now there was someone to carry on, instead of her. Now, she was going to take Steve's offer.

She and Steve were going to Ohio, and there was nothing left to stop them. A new life, finally within their grasp.

A few days later, Natasha found herself standing in the living room of Steve's Brooklyn apartment, taking in the space. It seemed far too spacious for one person - then again, most of it was already packed into several small boxes littered around the room. Natasha tried to imagine Steve by himself, day by day, and for some reason, she couldn't. It didn't feel like Steve at all. It felt... cold, impersonal if she were willing to go that far. Even after mentally placing each piece of furniture back into the room, it still hardly counted as a home. More of a neatly, decorated cell.

No wonder he had been so desperate to move away. The house they had chosen was far nicer, more homely, in all the right ways. Even scrolling through images online, Natasha could tell it as exactly what Steve needed. Maybe it was what she needed as well, somewhere cosy and safe. Natasha couldn't remember the last time she had any of that.

"This ain't a lot of stuff," Natasha remarked, tiptoeing between the dozen boxed strewn across the floor.

"I didn't need much," Steve explained, closing the flaps on a cardboard box and heaving it onto the window sill.

"Good," Natasha smiled. "There'll be plenty of space for my things."

"Of course," he laughed.

Natasha smirked. It wouldn't be much longer until every box was downstairs, packed into a moving van they had hired for the day. Then they would be off to Ohio, to their brand new home, far away from the life they used to lead. To their new, exciting life together, whatever that may be.

The life that was almost lost to them both.

"Natasha."

She looked up, realising she had been staring into the middle distance. She nodded, smiling and failing. Steve sighed as if reading her.

"I didn't know what would happen," he said, bowing his head. "I never wanted to hurt you, but I couldn't afford to lose you."

"You think I could afford to lose you?" Natasha replied. "All I could think about when you were gone was how… how it should have been…"

"Natasha."

Natasha shook her head.

"You didn't deserve to die."

"Neither did Clint," Steve affirmed. "And neither did you."

She frowned.

"What with all the red in my ledger, I'd disagree."

Steve took thee strides and was in front of her in a moment.

"Well, I think you're much more than that," he said softly, taking her hand in his. "And even if it takes the rest of my life, I'm gonna prove it to you."

"You've got your work cut out for you, Rogers."

"Speaking of which," he nodded to the box sitting on the window sill, "you mind?"

Natasha squinted at him.

"Really?"

"I don't know," he pondered, leading her over, gazing down at the cardboard box. "This one's feeling a little heavy."

Natasha rolled her eyes, placing her fingers underneath the vertices, and lifted with all of her strength. The box provided little resistance. In fact, much to her confusion, it felt practically empty.

"I've lifted milk cartons heavier than this."

Steve smiled.

"Keep that in mind."

He unfolded each of the cardboard lids and reached his hand inside. His fingers clasped onto something, and he lifted his hand back out. To Natasha's shock, Mjolnir came with it.

"Well," he smiled, "would you look at that…"

Natasha blinked, barely daring to breathe.

"That doesn't count," she quickly tried to protest, to which Steve raised an eyebrow.

He gently took the box from her hands, dropping it to the floor, placing the hilt of the Asgardian hammer in her palm and folding her digits around with his other hand. He stared her in the eye, a mischevious glint twinkling at her.

"You sure about that?"

Without warning, he let go.

Natasha braced herself to feel an overwhelming weight, heavier than anything she had ever felt before. Any second, Mjolnir would come hurtling down, and she would be dragged with it as it feel to the floor. Any second now. Any minute now. It was bound to happen.

Except it didn't happen. Mjolnir was still tightly grasped in her hand, barely more cumbersome than a carton of milk. The air left her lungs; her eyes widened comically.

"You know," she said, scrounging up what little spunk she had left, much to Steve's amusement, "if you were wrong, that could have gone a lot worse."

"If I were wrong, you wouldn't have been able to pick up that box."

"As far as you know," Natasha scoffed. Steve nodded.

"Tony and I had some long debates over this. Back when..."

The smile on his face dimmed slightly, as his gaze fell to the floor once again.

Natasha was by his side in a moment, still holding the power of the gods as if it were nothing. The feeling of it quenched something deep within her, life a weight she didn't realise she was carrying, or a pain she couldn't remember being without. The rivers of red in her past ran dry, replaced with a deep sense of tranquillity. The truth hit her like a summer's breeze - slowly, surely and warm. She could finally move on, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that she had earned it. And she was going to do it with the man she loved, and who loved her back.

"By the way," she asked as a lingering, loose thread reappeared in her mind, "why couldn't you lift it before?"

Steve paused, thinking back to the evening before the Ultron affair, eight whole years ago by his account. He smirked.

"I think we both know why."

Natasha nodded.

"Yeah," she replied, recalling the slight squeak as the hammer by budged by barely an inch. An inch that shouldn't have been possible unless… Well, Thor knew what it meant. Natasha hadn't doubted it for a second. "Yeah, we do."

"And remember," Bruce explained, gesturing to the briefcase holding the six infinity stones, "you have to return the stones at the exact moment you got 'em, or you're gonna open up a bunch of nasty alternate realities."

Steve, kitted out in his full uniform, the last temporal GPS device on his wrist, nodded.

"Don't worry, Bruce," he assured him, closing the briefcase and clasping it shut. "Clip all the branches."

"And you can't be seen," Natasha reminded him, handing him his helmet, and strapping it to his head affectionately. "That means no theatrics. No more jumping out of buildings, vaulting cars, running in general. Nothing I wouldn't do."

"I'll try."

"Don't try, Steve," Bucky added from across the way, "do."

"Awesome," Steve grinned, "now I've got two of 'em."

"Only 'cause you never take a hint," Bucky ribbed.

Steve waved him off, striding towards the machine in the centre of the area they had set up. The original Quantum Gate was destroyed in the attack on the compound, so, of course, a new one had to be built. This one was much smaller than the original, only suitable for one person. Namely, Steve. The man charged with returning the stones to their proper places in the timeline.

"You know, if you want," Sam quickly added, walking with him up to the platform, "I could come with you."

"You're a good man, Sam," Steve replied, patting him on the shoulder. "This one's on me, though."

"Your funeral," Sam shrugged, only to cringe as he spotted the look Natasha sent his way. "Sorry."

Steve couldn't help but laugh, turning towards his oldest friend.

"I am coming back, Buck," he said.

"I know," Bucky nodded, grinning, "'cause if you don't, I'm gonna hunt you down and drag you back myself."

"I don't doubt it."

The pair of brothers brought each other into a firm, long hug, lingering for only a moment, but it was enough. He was coming back. No need to say goodbye, not today. Simply a farewell.

The two disengaged fondly, and Steve stepped up to the platform, where Mjolnir was patiently waiting for him.

"How long is it gonna take?" he heard Sam ask as he leaned down to pick up the ever-faithful hammer.

"For him, as long as he needs," Bruce replied. "For us, five seconds."

He heard the generators warm up, the gear and motors whirring into life.

"Wait," Natasha intervened, hurrying up to the platform, much to the group's confusion. Steve was about to ask what was going on before he felt two hands reach up to his face and pull him down into a soft, chaste kiss. Natasha released him, stepping back as he stood stock still, frozen in something akin to shock and glee. "For the road. And in case you get any ideas."

Steve exhaled, his smile turning into a Cheshire grin.

"Oh, I've got plenty of ideas."

Natasha flashed Steve a look that stoked something very dangerous within him.

"Then hurry back."

Before Steve's will could completely collapse, Natasha swivelled, casually marching down the steps of the platform, out of reach. Leaving Steve alone on the platform, still reeling from their embrace.

"You ready, Cap?" Bruce called, sobering him instantly. Steve shook his head, leaning down to pick up Mjolnir. "Alright, we'll meet you back here, okay?

"You bet," he replied as a nanotech helmet formed from his Quantum suit, quickly wrapping itself over his head.

Bruce gave him a thumbs-up, and the countdown began.

"Going quantum in 3, 2, 1."

Steve gave Natasha one last look and disappeared.

"And returning," Bruce announced, "in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1."

Steve did not reappear.

Natasha's heart stopped, her mind going up in flames. She glanced at Bruce, who was skittishly scanning each of the monitors for the answer. Her eyes fell anxiously to Sam and Bucky, similarly nervous.

It was happening again. Natasha felt like she was back on the platform in the main hangar, seeing Clint on his knees, unable to make out the words, and yet with none needed to be said. Steve was gone, he wasn't coming back, he was-

He's just reappeared.

Of course, he has.

"Sorry," she hears Bruce's voice, bathed in chagrin. "Make that ten seconds."

Natasha rolled her eyes, breathing in a sigh of relief as the helmet of the Quantum suit peeled back, revealing Steve's smiling, healthy face. He was fine, just like he said he would be. Just like he promised.

Natasha palmed her face, a laboured sigh on her lips. She was getting too damn old for this. This must have been how Alexei felt.

"And here I was thinking I was gonna have to live in a world without Captain America," Sam laughed, his hands on his knees, relief similar to her's masked underneath.

"I wouldn't worry about that too much," Steve smiled.

Natasha spotted a minute glance in her direction, and she nodded, recognising the signal.

"You won't ever have to," Steve announced, as Natasha rounded the corner, around, wide, canvas bag in tow, "Captain."

Sam simply looked at them both, hesitantly unzipping the bag, already harbouring an inkling at to what was inside, but refusing to believe it. A rim of bright red, shining from underneath, was slowly revealed before his very eyes, only confirming his suspicions.

"You sure about this?" he said anxiously, to which Steve nodded.

"Of course."

The canvas fell away, leaving the gleaming vibranium disc in Sam's hands. It was lighter than he expected, and yet the weight of it left him speechless. Eventually, after several moments of starstruck awe, Sam's eyes found Bucky, who - like Steve - was smiling at him, nodding his approval.

"I'll do my best," Sam promised faintly.

Steve clapped him gently on the shoulder, smiling broader than he had in years.

"I know."

It was all that Sam could to smile back, as his arm found the leather straps and tightened. It fit like an old friend as if he had been wearing it for years.

"By the way," Steve added, as Natasha and buck lead the way to their SUV a few minutes later, "throw from the hip, not the shoulder. Works every time."

Sam's only response was a mirthful bark.

"How long have you been gone?" Natasha asked from the passenger seat, as the car took a left, setting off down the motorway.

Steve exhaled, shaking his head tiredly.

"A week," he guessed. "Maybe two."

He turned to her, putting a warm hand on her thigh, smiling.

"I missed you."

Natasha pulled his hand up to her mouth, placing a soft kiss on his knuckles, mirroring the sentiment.

"Go anywhere fun?" she asked, flexing her brows up and down cheekily.

"Not really," he chuckled. "Though, Vormir was interesting."

"How so?"

"I think the Red Skull was just as confused as I was."

Natasha sputtered a chortle, summoning a soft laugh in return. If it weren't for the fact that he was driving, he would have happily stared at Natasha until the sun went down. It was a welcome change, seeing her relaxed, smiling, enjoying herself. Happy. Happier than she had ever been, in part, because of him. The idea made his heart swell.

"Anywhere else?" she asked after the two had calmed down and the sign for Ohio flew past the window.

"Yeah," Steve nodded, "just one."

Peggy Carter prided herself on being an astute, observant person. It came with the job, after all. Her years serving the British and American governments had moulded her someone who could find a needle in a haystack - and the man who put it there - with merely a glance.

It was inevitable then, when she entered her office after a long, tiresome day, that the irregularity lying on her desk did not escape her attention for very long.

At first glance, it looked entirely unremarkable, some sort of round tin, or pocket watch, barely big enough to fill the palm of her hand. Then she took a closer look, and her heart began to race.

It was a compass.

Her fingers found the latch, opening the lid, revealing none other than an aged photograph of her face. The same that she had seen in Steve's compass. The one that was lost a long time ago, that had gone down with Captain America in the Artic.

It was impossible. Peggy struggled to believe it.

Or she would have, if not for the surprise visit of Natasha Romanoff just days before. And the fact that she had just been dismissed from a meeting regarding the Tesseract's miraculous reappearance. She had suspected, hoped, that maybe she would get to Natasha again.

All in good time, she supposed. All in good time.

Putting the compass to one side, her eyes spotted something else. Something she had missed, too distracted by everything else around her. Beneath where the item once sat lay a piece of paper; the torn edge told her it had been hurriedly ripped from her notebook. On its face, a note scrawled in handwriting that was so very reminiscent of the kind that she found decorating Steve's sketchbook. The very same, in fact. It contained two, short words, utterly banal in any other context, but they meant the world to her.

Thank you

Nothing else was written. Nothing else was needed.

Peggy didn't know what to think, or how to feel. But did know one thing, one little thing that popped into her head, and rendered her lips into a small, satisfied smile.

The right partner, indeed.

If there was a better feeling in the world than holding Natasha Romanoff in his arms as he swayed with her to tune of an old jazz piece, then Steve didn't know it. And Steve didn't want it.

After everything they had been through, all he had fought for, Steve couldn't have imagined he would be here, in a place that he called home - sharing it with a beautiful dame, no less. Not only that, but he was now free, free to spend the rest of his life in whatever way he wanted, to finally shed the guilt that had hung over his shoulders for so many years. To move on, with the person he loved by his side, hopefully for years to come.

When Steve told Sam and Bucky about his plans, about how he wanted to hang up the costume for good, he expected something akin to disappointment, certainly judgement. What he got instead was something he wasn't expecting. Overwhelming approval. Turns out they had wanted this for him as he long he had, Bucky especially. They told him, in no uncertain terms, that it was precisely what he and Natasha deserved.

And with that, he could finally rest.

Five years of regret, pain, longing and grief were finally over.

Steve Rogers was now just a man, in love with a woman. He couldn't be happier.

The night was closing in, the fireplace was crackling softly, the table was set, ready for their first dinner together. It was Natasha favourite, an old Russian pastry that reminded her of the days before the Black Widow program. It was nothing spectacular, just a simple dish that Steve had managed to concoct with what little groceries they had. According to Natasha, it was perfect.

The song ended, and the woman resting on his chest looked up, her shining eyes gazing into his. He was sure her thoughts mirrored his, which meant that, above anything else, the urge to kiss was as strong for her as it was for him.

So they did.

The last thought that faded from his mind, as Natasha's lips met his in a soft union, was hope. Hope in the future, in the world that slowly rebuilding, and the one that he held in his arms.

They had waited long enough. Now it was time to move on, hopefully to something better. At least, it was something new. Because Steve realised, the world had changed forever, and now there was no going back. All they could do now was their best, and sometimes the best that they could do was to start over.