IT HAD BEEN TWENTY DAYS. Twenty long, suffocating days since the world went silent. Since Thanos snapped his fingers-and half the universe turned to dust.

Outside the Avengers compound, the sky seemed to mourn with them. A thick veil of gray hung low over the trees, casting shadows on the dewy lawn. The once-bustling halls inside were quiet now. Too quiet.

No one laughed.

No one slept.

They just... endured.

The world felt hollow, as if the very air had been sucked from the rooms, leaving only the echo of what once was. Every footstep sounded too loud. Every door that creaked open or shut was a reminder of someone missing-someone who would never walk through it again.

Names echoed through the silence like ghosts: Wanda. Vision. Sam. T'Challa. Bucky. Ariel.

Not a single day passed without Steve thinking of her.

He saw her in everything-the sunlight dancing on the compound's windows like waves, the wind that smelled faintly of saltwater after the rain, the melody she used to hum when she thought no one was listening. Her absence carved a hollow space in his chest. A silence that screamed louder than any battlefield.

All that remained of her were two delicate necklaces-a tiny silver seashell and an iridescent blue pearl, still warm when Natasha first pressed them into his hands the day they returned.

Nat hadn't said a word, just looked at him with those tired, haunted eyes and nodded, as if silently saying: You need this more than I do. And she was right.
But she hadn't told him everything. Not yet.

He clutched the necklaces now in quiet reverence, feeling their weight like the memory of her voice-soft, sweet, impossible to forget.

✧˚ · .

The compound was filled with survivors, but none of them felt alive. Steve wandered the halls like a ghost, eyes hollow, hands trembling. Bruce buried himself in equations and theories, desperate for distraction. Thor sat alone in the dark, Storm-breaker untouched, his gaze fixed on a world he no longer recognized.

Even Natasha, always the strong one, seemed diminished. Her voice was softer, her movements slower, as if she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Yet, they endured. Because that's what heroes do.

But Tony Stark was missed too. Not just by the world that adored Iron Man. But by her-his other half-, Pepper who stared at the stars every night and begged them to give her back the man she loved.

No one knew if he had survived the Snap. Had he turned to dust like so many others? Or was he still out there - adrift in the vast, merciless silence of space?

They had no answers. Only a fragile thread of hope.

But then, Director Nick Fury's emergency pager-left behind in the final seconds before he vanished-lit up with a pulse of light and desperation.

And that's how the Avengers met Carol Danvers.

A warrior of blazing light.

Fierce. Unshakable. And loyal to Fury with a fire and strength that burned across galaxies.

When they asked her to search the stars for Iron Man, she didn't hesitate. She simply nodded once-and vanished into the sky.

✧˚ · .

She found him.

Late one night, as the wind howled against the battered windows of the Avengers Compound, a strange, distant hum rose over the trees. The clouds split. And from the heavens, a sleek, silver spacecraft descended with a low, mournful thud onto the lawn.

The grass quivered.

The doors hissed open.

And there he was.

Tony.

Gaunt. Pale. A shell of himself. His cheeks were hollow, his eyes sunken and rimmed with exhaustion. Each step seemed to cost him more than the last, his body held together by sheer will. Nebula hovered at his side, her own movements stiff and mechanical, yet her grip on Tony was almost gentle. She guided him forward, and when Tony faltered, she bore his weight without complaint, though her own strength seemed spent.

The Avengers ran outside. Hearts in their throats.

Steve was the first to reach him. No hesitation. No anger. No past between them. Just two soldiers in the ashes of war.

He slipped under Tony's arm, gently lifting the weight from Nebula, who all but collapsed onto the stairs behind them.

Tony looked like he hadn't spoken to another living soul in days. His lips cracked. His voice dry. His soul bruised.

"Couldn't stop him," he breathed, barely more than a whisper. It wasn't just regret.

It was grief.

It was guilt.

Steve's throat tightened.

"Neither could I," he said softly, helping him down each step like a brother would.

Tony staggered, shaking his head. "The kid..." he choked. "I lost the kid."

Peter. His Peter.

Steve didn't look away. His own voice broke. "I lost her too..."

Ariel.

For a moment, the night wrapped itself around them like a shroud. Two men, broken by the same storm, drowning in the silence.

Then-

A cry from across the lawn.

"Tony!"

Pepper.

She didn't walk. She ran. Tears already streaking down her face, she flew into his arms with the kind of love people write songs about. He stumbled, barely able to catch her, but held her with everything he had left. Like a man clinging to a lifeline.

"Oh, my God! Oh, my God!," she sobbed into his shoulder.

"It's okay," he whispered, his voice breaking entirely.

Their foreheads touched. Their tears mixed. And the world, for just a second, felt less empty.

Steve stood nearby, watching. Silent.

He was happy for them-of course he was. But as he slipped his hand into his pocket, feeling the cool, familiar shapes of Ariel's necklaces, the ache in his chest deepened in a way he couldn't explain.

They got their person back. He didn't.

His arms were still empty.

And it was that truth that made the night feel colder than ever.

✧˚ · .

Steve was dreaming again. Only this time, it wasn't the kind of dream you wanted to stay in.

The air was thick. Unnaturally still.

The kind of quiet that feels... wrong.

Shadows pooled in the corners of the room, swallowing the edges of the bed.

And then-

"Steve?"

A voice. Soft as a seashell held to his ear.

"Steve, you okay?"

A gentle hand pressed against his arm.

Warm. Familiar. Calming.

His heart thundered like war drums in his chest. For a moment, he couldn't breathe - like someone had stolen the air right out of the room.

And then he saw her.

Ariel.

Curled up beside him, just like she always used to. Her long red curls tumbled over the pillow like silk ribbons, her ocean eyes blinking sleepily in the moonlight that spilled through the open window. She looked so heartbreakingly alive. So very real. Dressed in a white silk nightgown that clung to her like sea-foam. Barefoot. Beautiful. Ethereal. Almost ghostly.

Almost not of this world at all...

"I'm here," she whispered, her smile soft and sad, as if she knew she didn't belong in this world anymore. Her fingers traced his jaw, feather-light, leaving trails of warmth that faded too quickly. "It was just a bad dream."

Steve didn't move. Couldn't speak. His eyes devoured her like he was afraid to blink and lose her.

He reached out - slowly - as if he might scare her away.

His hand met hers. Warm. Solid. Real. He laced their fingers together like it meant something. Like it still meant everything.

"You were gone," he breathed. The words cracked in the middle like a fault line in his chest. "I thought I had lost you."

But Ariel just smiled, that gentle, knowing curve of her lips that always soothed his storms. "I know," she murmured, pressing her forehead to his, her breath cool as ocean air. "I'm right here, Steve."

He closed his eyes, let her scent-salt and jasmine-fill his lungs. It was intoxicating, overwhelming. He wanted to drown in it.

"No," he whispered, voice breaking. "no, you're not..."

And that was when everything shifted.

The bed grew cold.
The light dimmed.
And when he opened his eyes again-

She was gone.

Just empty sheets beside him, still warm with memory. Like she had just gotten up a second ago. Like she might walk back in, humming one of her sea-songs under her breath.

But she didn't.

She never did.

Steve sat up, heart hammering, drenched in sweat and something deeper - a grief that clawed at his ribs every night.

He ran a trembling hand through his hair and looked to the side of the bed she used to claim, the place that still belonged to her in his mind.

Sometimes, when he was really quiet...

He could still hear her humming.

Still feel the whisper of her kiss on his shoulder.

Still smell the ocean on her skin.

Ariel wasn't just gone.

She haunted him.

Not like a ghost with chains and wailing - but like a melody that played when the world was quiet, a shadow that danced in sunlight, a heartbeat he could still feel echoing next to his.

And every time he closed his eyes, he hoped the dream would come again. Just for a minute. Just long enough to believe she was still his.