ARIEL WAS AWAKE. And she was alive.

But somehow, it didn't feel like enough.

Her body had returned to her, breath now fluttering in and out of her lungs like waves brushing the shore. But something deeper inside her still ached—as though parts of her soul hadn't made it back from wherever she had drifted.

She wanted to move. To rise from the soft white sheets and walk through the familiar halls of the Compound again, twirling through the sunlight like she used to. But Steve... and Tony... they both insisted she rest.

And the truth was: she wasn't ready. Not entirely.

The sea had always healed her, its saltwater kissing her skin like home—but she wasn't just that girl anymore.

Not just sea.

Not just land.

She was both now. A heart torn between tides and pavement, between mermaid and human. And that was why, instead of saltwater, they'd begun to give her human blood again—trying to help her body remember how to live as something in between. Something new. Something impossibly fragile.

Her body had to learn how to hold both truths. Just like her heart.

🫧⋆｡˚

A few days later, as the sun slipped lazily through the Compound windows, Natasha stepped into the room again—just like that first day. The door creaked softly, and before she could even say a word, a blur of warmth flew into her arms.

Ariel.

Small and trembling, but smiling with her whole soul. She clung to Natasha like a girl lost at sea who had finally made it to shore.

The hug was tight. Fierce. Desperate. And it nearly broke Natasha in two.

"You scared the hell out of me, y'know that?" Natasha whispered, holding her like she never wanted to let go again. Her voice cracked, but her hands never stopped stroking Ariel's back, gently, rhythmically—like she could calm the shaking tide inside her.

Ariel only nodded. She wanted to say something—anything—but when she opened her mouth, the pain rushed in again like shattered glass down her throat. Her breath caught.

She winced.

She still couldn't speak. Not properly. Every word felt like broken pieces trying to mend themselves mid-air.

Her voice—her gift, her curse, she—was no longer the same. She was terrified it might never be.

But still... she tried. Because this was Natasha. Because love needed to be said, even if it came out in pieces.

"...So-...rry," she whispered. The word was barely air, but Natasha heard it. Felt it.

"No," Natasha said quickly, holding her tighter. "Don't apologize. You came back. That's all that matters."

Ariel nodded again, eyes glistening now with unshed tears. Not out of pain—but out of relief.

Because maybe her voice was broken.
Maybe she couldn't dance or run just yet.

But she was here.
She was alive.

And that was enough—for now.

"I thought I had lost you..." Natasha's voice cracked as she whispered the words, almost too afraid to believe the girl in her arms was real.

Ariel pulled back slightly, just enough to see Natasha's eyes—red-rimmed, glassy. Even now, she was still careful with her, still trying not to fall apart.

Ariel's fingers gently squeezed Natasha's arms in response. Her own voice was slow, uncertain, like a ghost being coaxed back to life.

"I guess something... didn't want me to leave," she breathed. Every syllable cut like broken glass in her throat, but she said it anyway—because some things needed to be said. Even if it hurt.

Natasha gave her a knowing smirk, the kind only she could pull off after days of sleepless worry. "You mean someone, sweetheart."

Ariel's cheeks flushed pink. Her eyes flickered toward the floor.

"...He likes me, doesn't he?" she asked softly, voice so quiet it could have been the breeze.

Natasha laughed under her breath, rolling her eyes with affection. "Congratulations. You are officially the last person to figure that out."

Ariel bit her lip, shyly tucking a lock of her red hair behind her ear, but even that motion made Natasha's chest ache. She was still so delicate. So alive. Like a porcelain doll learning how to stand again.

"I-I heard his voice," Ariel whispered. "That's... when I came back. He said my name."

A hush fell between them.

Natasha's gaze softened. She reached up and brushed a thumb gently under Ariel's eye, as if to wipe away a tear that hadn't fallen yet.

"He never left your side," she said. "He slept in that chair more times than I can count. We couldn't get him to eat properly. He was sure you'd wake up. Kept saying you'd find your way back."

Ariel blinked slowly, letting the warmth of that truth settle deep into her chest like a blanket. Her hands, still trembling faintly, pressed against her heart—like she was trying to keep it from breaking all over again.

"I wanted to tell him I heard him," she murmured, voice barely a whisper. "That I... I tried to come back."

"You still can," Natasha smiled. She gave Ariel a gentle nudge, like a sister pushing another out of her shell. "Come on. The others are waiting. And Steve—he's been waiting the longest."

There was a teasing lilt in her tone, but also something more. Something wistful. Natasha had spent so long wishing Steve would find someone who made him happy and feel at peace. Someone who reminded him that not everything was war and sacrifice.

And now... here she was. A girl who'd once given up her voice, her world, her life—to find something more.

Ariel gave a small nod, her throat aching, her eyes wide with unspoken emotion. She wasn't sure if she was strong enough to walk through that door yet.

But maybe she didn't need to be.

Because someone was waiting on the other side.
And for the first time in a long time... she wasn't alone.

Ariel walked slowly, her steps still a little unsure, but there was something different about her now. A quiet kind of courage — like a melody trying to find its way back into the world. Natasha walked beside her, careful not to rush her. They made their way to the living room, where a few familiar faces were already waiting — watching the hallway like a dream might come walking through it.

Wanda was the first to spot her.

And without a word, she ran forward and threw her arms around Ariel like she was anchoring a piece of herself. The hug was tight, almost desperate, as though Wanda was afraid Ariel might disappear into sea foam if she let go. Ariel winced slightly — not from pain, but because emotion bloomed so suddenly in her chest, she didn't know how to hold it.

Wanda looked as fragile as Ariel felt. The shadows under her eyes were deep, and her hands trembled when she brushed Ariel's hair behind her ear. Hydra had left its mark on both of them. But Wanda was here. Alive. And so was Ariel.

"Thank you," Wanda whispered. Her voice cracked. "You brought me home."

Ariel shook her head gently and tried to speak — but the words caught in her throat like glass. She forced a smile, hoping it would be enough. Wanda didn't push. She understood. There were still things that hurt too much to say aloud.

And yet, Wanda saw it in her. That same quiet fire. The same defiance. Maybe Ariel would never replace the brother she lost, but something inside Wanda knew — they were bound by the same kind of sorrow, and that meant they were bound for life.

Next came Clint, with Lucky trotting happily at his heels. The golden retriever let out a little bark and bounded up to Ariel, tail wagging furiously. She knelt — wincing again — and pressed her face into his fur. A soft giggle slipped from her lips, and Clint caught it, grinning like it was a sound he'd missed more than he realized.

"You look good, Nixie," he said warmly. "Hydra didn't stand a chance."

Ariel gave a small bow of her head, her cheeks pink. The nickname used to make her roll her eyes. Now it just felt like coming home.

Sam appeared next, but his usual bright grin was dimmed by something heavier. He came alone. No Bucky.

When Ariel realized, her heart sank.

Her voice trembled as she forced herself to speak. "Is... he okay?"

Sam shook his head. "He's missing."

Her stomach turned. She couldn't help the thought — maybe it should have been me instead.

But before she could sink into guilt, Sam wrapped her in a hug — strong and warm and filled with longing. He missed her. Missed her laugh, her softness, her way of lighting up a room by just being in it.

"Don't go disappearing again," he muttered, teasing gently. "This place wasn't the same without you."

Ariel smiled faintly, her throat aching. There was so much she wanted to say, but her voice still betrayed her. Still sharp, still painful. Like it had forgotten how to be gentle.

And then the last two entered the room.

Tony walked in first, fiddling with a gadget in his hand. But behind him — behind all the noise and movement and chatter — stood Steve.

The moment Ariel saw him, her breath caught.

It was cliché, maybe. But all the air left the room. Her heartbeat slowed. The world faded until it was just him — and those eyes, soft as the sky after a storm, looking at her like she was the only thing that mattered.

And then he smiled.

She stepped forward, drawn to him like the sea to the shore. He met her halfway.

There were no words — not yet. Just the warmth of his arms, the feel of his hands in her hair, the steady beat of his heart against her cheek. He held her like she was something sacred. Something he thought he'd lost forever and couldn't believe he had again.

Her head rested against his chest.

His chin gently came to rest atop her hair.

For a while, they simply breathed.

He didn't want to let go.

But eventually, he pulled back — just far enough to see her face. She blinked up at him, eyes shimmering like sea glass in the light.

"You stole it," he said softly.

She tilted her head, confused.

"...What?"

He smiled again — the kind of smile that could melt glaciers and silence wars.

"My heart."

Ariel let out a soft, breathy laugh, fragile but real, even though her throat still scraped from trying to speak. She smiled. And then her lips parted — maybe to answer, maybe to laugh again — but then she leaned in.

It was gentle, almost hesitant — a quiet brush of lips that tasted like salt and hope and everything they never thought they'd find again.

And it felt exactly right.

She barely breathed. Her fingers clutched the fabric of his shirt, as if anchoring herself to the moment. As if she was afraid it might slip away.

But it didn't.

Because he stayed.

He pressed his forehead to hers, their noses almost touching, and whispered, "You don't have to speak. I hear you."

A soft sound escaped her throat — a sigh, a promise, a silent thank you — and he understood every bit of

"You really had to go and say something that cheesy?" came Tony's voice from across the room.

"Always," Steve replied, never taking his eyes off her.

Tony opened his mouth to retort, but Natasha elbowed him before he could get a word out.

"Hey, ow!"

But Ariel and Steve didn't hear them anymore. The world around them blurred again, falling into silence.

No, it wasn't a fairytale. Not the kind with tiaras and easy answers.

But they had each other.

Two hearts — once broken, now healing.

In the original fairy tale, Ariel's voice had been stolen by a sea witch.

But in this story — our story — it was her heart that was stolen.

By a captain who had been lost at sea for far too long.

And finally, finally... he'd found his way home.