𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 || 𝘋𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘉𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘠𝘰𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘵

   NATASHA DIDN'T KNOW HOW LONG SHE STARED AT THE TWO YOGURTS. Vanilla or strawberry? It shouldn't be a hard decision, vanilla is clearly better, but is it? Constantly second-guessing her damn decision as she let her eyes flicker between the two objects. Why did she have to make it hard for herself every time she tried to do something in the direction of normal? She knew exactly why but didn't want to even think about him. It hurt her enough as it is.

Everything normal had left with him. A genuine smile, a quickening heart, nervousness, unconditional love. All it had been taken away from her when he had to leave. "It'll be less than a week," he promised her, and she believed him despite everything that had been going on. But she still waited and a few days turned into a week, then a week into months, and then years. No sign of him anywhere and no information from Nick Fury on the subject who avoided it all together.

It'd been the situation someone got caught on the job, killed to never be seen again. Nothing more than that. His line of work always had that risk, Natasha knew this as good as anyone, but she still found herself surprised when he didn't come home, heartbroken. But this had been years upon years of connection that Natasha had taken away from her. She had every right to be heartbroken and lost without the man she saw herself spending her entire life with.

And after a few years, she forgot what his touch felt like against her hip. The slight clench of his digits, suggestively telling her that he loved her close. His natural uplifting nature and snarky yet lovable attitude were dearly missed every single day that she forced herself out of bed to go to work without him by her side. Forgetting how his warm and comforting words would encourage her to go and save the world one step at a time.

But the one thing she was forgetting each moment that passed was his voice. It was slipping from her mind the longer she forced herself away from the entire thought of him. She couldn't remember how it felt when he whispered against her bare shoulder in the morning. Or how he would yell in hysterics, goading her on when she wore something formal like a dress. Not even the sound of his laugh was familiar in her mind, and honestly, that had been the first thing to go.

Now, she didn't have his voice to help her make such a stupid and meaningless decision between two yogurt flavours. "You'll end sneaking back here when we get to the cashier and grab the other anyways, babe." She dropped the two yogurt cartons into her green basket before continuing to shop with a huff.

She wondered why she was even shopping when she knew that a lot of her time would be spent at work this coming week. Helping Steve find a girl to go on a date with - even if it killed her. The reason was that the day he left was coming up and she had no intentions of being at home in her apartment. Not when it felt like his warmth still lingered from time to time, just barely brushing down the nape of her neck in the early morning. Just like how his lips would, slowly lifting her from slumber and into the land of the living.

So, as much as she should just spend that day at home, grieving, she wasn't going to risk it. She would use today as a chance of some sort of process dedicated to him. Even if it ended in her sobbing into her pillows, cursing him for leaving her so soon. Natasha couldn't handle being in an apartment that had her believing a ghost lingered around, reminding her of how much she had lost.

After gathering all the food she needed for this special day, she paid for it before leaving. Blending into the crowds of people easily as she made her way to her black Chevrolet Corvette. Placing the grocery bags in the passenger seat with a sigh. Getting into the vehicle and reluctantly went on her way back to her apartment. Attempting to spend the rest of the day with some sort of relaxation.

The traffic was tedious, repetitive even for someone like Natasha. Finding her interest and energy slowly washing away the longer she was forced to take the longer and scenic routes of New York. But her eyes constantly flickered towards the bracelet that was attached to the rearview mirror.

Swaying with the glinting of the silver flashing her eyes every so often as the rock rocked to the side. The red sapphire stone hanging by a small chain attached to the larger part of the bracelet sometimes produces a small red glow from the sun rays that hit it. A beautiful piece of jewelry that Natasha couldn't bring herself to putting on again. Always feeling like it's burning her skin, punishing her for trying to embrace the idea of him being gone.

Her gaze snapped from the bracelet and towards the small screen in her dash. The speakers that had once been playing some random music she didn't care to listen to, shut down with Nick Fury's contact appearing. And without a beat, Natasha accepted the call and gripped the steering wheel, just a bit too tight, always having felt tension with the man since everything had happened 5-years-ago.

"Agent Romanoff, how is your day going?" Fury inquired, already sensing the resentment slithering through the phone call, even when Natasha hadn't said a single word yet. "I'm doing fine, Nick. What is it you need?"

There is a strange ounce of hope in Natasha that she gets called in for a mission. Gave her a reason to not be home now, not that she didn't want to, but it was a give and take situation for her. Did she want to have at least a day of thinking or work for the next few weeks straight? Neither sounded bad, but she had grown a tendency to backtrack on previous statements and feelings as of late.

"I wanted to call you to let you know to stay by your phone. Might need you in a day or two." Fury explained as Natasha shifted in her seat, flicking her signal. "What's the problem?" She inquired as she pressed her foot down a bit further on the accelerator. "Don't worry too much about it, Romanoff. As I said, stay by your phone, I might need you."

Natasha sighed, tightening her grip around the steering wheel as she pulled to the curb right out front of the apartment complex. It wasn't anything special, which was what she liked, it had a simpleness to it that had always been what she was used to from her past on the run from the Red Room. All her safehouses were just, simple, nothing crazy but perfect to stay when she needed to be off the grid. This just so happened to be the place she considered the closest thing to a home for her.

"Uh, hey, any word on what was with that helicopter crash a day ago? Do we have any further info on that?" She inquired as her eyes stayed fixated on the slight flashing of a green tire on the heads-up display. "The helicopter was foreign, an old unlicensed Mi-17. Someone shot it down." Fury explained. "Who did it is what we're trying to currently figure out at the moment."

"Any survivors?" There was a hopeful tint in her voice as she twisted the black band around her middle finger on her right hand with her thumb. It annoyed her that, despite being a part of the Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D., she still couldn't save people from things that shouldn't happen. There shouldn't have been any helicopter going down near New York, period. For whatever reason, things were still happening and she wasn't able to stop it.

A sigh came from Fury over the phone. "No one survived. All we could gather was that there were three bodies in the fire and we're still running tests on who they are." Natasha scratched the corner of her brow with her thumbnail, shaking her head with a deep sigh. "Romanoff, don't think too much into it, alright?" She knew he was coming from a good place, trying to be a friend, but all she could reply with was an eye roll of annoyance.

"Okay, well, call me when you need me." She spoke up before harshly pressing the red button, ending the call with a huff. Leaning back in her seat as she just sat there for a moment, unsure of what had come over her, only able to stare at that damn bracelet. Putting the vehicle in park before she let her hands go from the stick and steering wheel, looking down at the tremours of her hands. Glancing up at the bracelet and ripping it from its position and tossing it inside the glove box.

The tears that streamed down her face hadn't been noticed until she let out an unexpected sob. Using the back of her hand to cover her mouth, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply. Lips parting partially before exhaling slowly, calming herself down and grabbing a hold of the grocery bags and stepping out of the vehicle. Slamming the door shut before she made her way to the front door, using the sleeve to her jacket to wipe away any remaining tears that wished to be seen.

Her shoes echoed off the old dirty tiled floor, no further sound than that as she made her way to the elevator and called it down. It sat on floor 5 where she lived for a beat before it slowly started to descend to the lobby. The slight rattling of the death box was able to be heard behind the sealed shut door dividing her from the elevator shaft. But despite the hotel not being up to legal standards, she still stepped into the elevator and pressed the button, watching the doors shut before she leaned back against the wall.

It felt like years she stood and waited to arrive at her floor. And it felt like longer as she had remembered the first time he had come home with her. Everything had happened so fast, things were silent in the elevator before suddenly, he had pinned her to the wall and crashed their lips together. Hands roaming her body with moans slipping past her lips by his gentle yet possessive touch. And Natasha had reciprocated the passion, hopping up and wrapping her legs around his waist, never breaking apart even when the elevator doors opened where she was lifted away and towards her apartment. Giggling when he had struggled with putting the key in the hole to unlock the door.

Just the simple memory of him made things feel like everything slowed down a few paces for her. Mind allowing itself to fully digest the memory, the feelings, the emotion that drove through her in that entire night and all the moments they shared after. It became cemented rent-free in her mind, knowing it had been the night to turn her around, giving her a reason to keep fighting for something good and knowing he was there to help her through it all.

In a way, Natasha still believed he did, in some way shape or form, he was still with her. Always prodding at her, pushing her forward when things seemed to want to pull her back. When the elevator doors opened, the light flickered above her as she exited. Reaching into her pocket for her keys approaching her apartment door.

Fiddling with them, trying to find the sliver and gold one that looked like it was older than her, rust barely noticeable in the divots of the item. A reminder that maybe she would have to switch locations soon, considering there were much nicer places, but still lowkey and unexpected for her to be located.

Pushing the key into the lock, as expected, it took her a moment to turn the item. It jingled in the lock, earning a quiet set of curses from Natasha who pursed her lips together and forcefully snapped the key to the side, unlocking it. A sigh escaped her lips, turning the door handle and pulling the key free from the lock before entering the apartment.

Its natural welcoming and warmth still hit Natasha who shut and locked the door behind her. The apartment stood bare besides a TV and couch by the door. A coat hanger a few feet to her left against the wall where her winter jacket was hung up. It didn't have the personality it once did and in some cases, Natasha may have hated that. But she'd only allowed him to decorate the house in pictures of them and other meaningless trinkets he'd bought her. Striding across the room, glancing at the empty living room before turning left and walking through the small doorframe leading into the kitchen. Placing the bags of groceries on the small island, dividing her from the living room.

Staring at the quiet and open space that no longer held his warm and sleeping figure that would be watching Peaky Blinders on the Netflix subscription she no longer had any purpose for. As much as she still considered it her home and still decided to stay, it didn't have him waiting for her when she got back. Greeting her in a warm hug after their very long days, having separate jobs and stresses that both were cured by one another's presence.

That was lost now and Natasha had to find her way to relieve herself, and that turned out to be cooking, surprisingly. Turning towards the fridge, she began putting the groceries away, humming a tune that wasn't familiar to her but had heard him hum the same melody in the early hours of the morning. Cooking up a simple breakfast for himself and Natasha. Moving across the kitchen counter, making room and gently pushing dishes to the side. Accidentally, a cup tipped over and fell into the sink shattered, the water splashing across the basin. "Shit,"

Her body froze, eyes trailing on the steam and cloud that came from the water as it slowly slithered down the drain. Red flags went on immediately in her head as she watched the cloud of steam blossom further in the air.

But as expected, she felt a gun pressed up against the back of her head. Its cool muzzle was blocked out by the red locks of her hair. Exhaling shakily as the flipping of the safety alerted her. "I don't want to hurt you. I just want to talk, alright?" Natasha felt the muzzle of the pistol move away from her head, seeing in her peripheral, the gun was placed on the marble island right beside her.

Confusion filled Natasha, but she pushed it down, her alertness turning on as she spun around, kicking the intruder in the stomach. They stumbled back, hitting the wall, ducking under the kick to the head Natasha had thrown. Throwing a left leg kick, it was caught with a hand grabbing ahold of her waist where she was whipped around and slammed against the wall with a grunt. The sheer impact nearly knocked the air right out of her lungs. But her hand had found its way to the person's throat. Her nail's digging deep into their skin. "Stop!"

Just as Natasha was about to attack, her eyes widened, breath getting caught in her throat. That hand wrapped around the person's throat loosened considerably as her eyes flickered across the man's face. Underneath the grizzly beard, the blue puffer jacket, and rather disgusting and dirty red beanie, stood the person she'd been five long years for, hoping on some sort of dream that he was still alive out there.

Swallowing the harsh concrete lump in her throat, she blinked rapidly, hoping to wash away the tears. "Jaxon?"