The Storm
Across the clearing, Bruce watched Thanos fall to his knees, the air rasping in his throat and Thor's axe jammed into his chest up to the hilt. The suit amplified what he hoped would be the overlord's last words.
"You should've… You… You should've gone for the head." Thanos suddenly grinned, raised the gauntlet and snapped his fingers.
"No!" Thor bellowed. To Bruce he seemed uncertain for one of the few times in his life. They stared at the scorched and smoking gauntlet, wanting to wipe the mocking, smug grin from Thanos's purple face. "What did you do? What did you DO?!" Thor's voice rose on the end, fear and rage twisting his features into a gruesome mask.
Thanos teleported away in a cloud of electric blue smoke and dust. Thor's hands reached for him and missed. The axe landed in the dirt with a thump that was barely registered by the suit's auditory range.
Stunned, Steve gasped, "Where'd he go? Thor?" He repeated the question more urgently, "Where'd he go?"
"Steve?"
Thor and Steve swung around at the anguished cry from Bucky, watching with horrid fascination as his prosthetic arm turned to ash, quickly followed by the rest of him. Panicked, Steve ran to the pile of black dust that had once been his best friend, but it was too late.
~~O~~
T'Challa held out his hand to Okoye, one eyebrow arched. She always admired his ability to find humour even in war. "Up, General. Up! This is no place to die."
The king vanished in a whirl of ash. Okoye's jaw dropped as she fell to the ground. "Hezvo…?!"
~~O~~
Groot reached out a branch toward Rocket, muttering a strangled and heartfelt, "I am Groot."
Inconsolable sobbing came from Rocket, "No… No-no-no-no. No! Groot… no."
~~O~~
Still lying on the ground where she'd been thrown, Wanda's heartbreak at watching Vision destroyed by Thanos changed to disbelief. She looked down at her hands as they crumbled. Then, she too was gone.
~~O~~
Rhodey searched for Sam, his voice rasping in their headsets. "Sam? Sam! Where you at?!"
~~O~~
All around, the fighting stuttered to a stop as more and more people turned to black ash and were carried away on the breeze.
Thor remained rooted to the spot next to Bruce, all of them watching as Steve turned Vision's android body onto its back. They were joined by Rhodey. No one even looked up when Natasha stumbled to a stop next to Steve. Her breathing came so hard and fast, Bruce thought she'd hyperventilate. One hand rubbed her stomach as if she were about to be sick. He swallowed hard to keep from doing the same.
"What is this? What the hell is happening?" Rhodey demanded. Next to him, Rocket openly wept.
Steve hung his head, already mourning those who were lost. "Oh, God…"
The Calm
The front of the Hulkbuster suit opened and Bruce climbed out with a grunt. Uncertain what his next move should be, he stood in Shuri's lab seeking to gather the tattered remains of his dignity, such as it was, and failing miserably. Even with the inertial dampeners, his body felt like it had been trampled by a stampede. The others were much worse off, but then they hadn't worn armor. He did achieve clarity on one point: Hulk's unwillingness to engage with Thanos after the beat-down he received at their first encounter.
Their loss against the warlord hit hard. Family, friends, strangers, flora, fauna. Nothing organic had been spared in the snap. Bruce capitalized the words in his mind.
The Snap.
Not knowing what to do with himself, Bruce stood at the window, looking out over the devastated land, the whir and hum of the equipment a background tune to the despondency that permeated the populace of Wakanda, and presumably the rest of the world… worlds. For those who had no idea what was going on, the sudden events, their loved ones turning to ash, would be even more devastating. The more religious among them would see this as a sort of rapture. But there was nothing rapturous about the loss of half everything on every planet that supported organic life.
However, Bruce couldn't think of that now because it made his brain hurt and body ache, not only for himself, but the universe in general. Or should I say ache more.
We lost.
Those two words kept repeating inside his head, a never ending echo taunting him, taunting all of them.
Lost… lost… lost… lost… lo-o-o-st…
The Avengers had never been defeated before. Most certainly their triumphs had come at a price. Such was the way of war. Any war no matter the reason, the weapons used, or the people involved. There were no real winners or losers. Everyone loses to some extent. But this time, the stakes had been higher than ever before, and the price paid was even higher.
A warm hand wrapped around his bicep. With an effort, Bruce dropped his gaze to Shuri's sweet face.
"I am sorry for your losses, Bruce."
"And I for yours, Shuri." He inhaled and let it back out, patting her hand like a father would to comfort a child, taking comfort as well. "Who will rule Wakanda now that T'Challa's gone?"
The girl drew him over to a padded bench and they sat together, moving her hold from his arm to around his neck. "My brother has no heirs, male or female, so the burden of the monarchy would pass onto Mother. If she declines to accept, then it would fall to me, provided neither of us is challenged in ritual combat. I do not believe that will be a problem." Her grip tightened fractionally. "No one can replace T'Challa. It pains me that one of us must do so now."
"Don't blame you. Ruling an entire nation is a great responsibility."
She snorted lightly. "Do not mistake my hesitation for lack of desire to do what is right or that I am incapable of performing the duties. While I would rather spend my time in the lab than attending to matters of state, if ruling Wakanda is my fate, I will do all that is asked of me and to the best of my ability."
"Same here." Another thought intruded. The answer might have been obvious to anyone else, but Bruce needed to hear the words. "What about us? What's left of the Avengers? Will Queen Ramonda ask us to leave?"
Shuri got to her feet and took Bruce's former place at the window. He came to stand behind her as she did for him. "Mother is distraught, as we all are at the loss of T'Challa and so many of our people. I do not believe she would be so cruel as to," she flashed a sad smile over her shoulder, "kick you to the curb. Please accept the hospitality of Wakanda until your people have made a decision as to what you will do."
They turned from the window together, Shuri leading the way to the main work station. She picked up a data pad. The noblesse oblige of the young girl warmed Bruce, and he was sure the others would feel the same. "On behalf of my friends and myself, thank you."
A tall, slender and exceptionally athletic woman stood near the entrance. Without looking up, Shuri made the introductions. "Please go with Zaleema. When you feel up to it, Bruce, I would be pleased to have you join me here again. I'm sure there is much we can learn from each other."
The girl turned away, already deep into whatever project had been interrupted by the arrival of Thanos. Bruce took the dismissal in stride, knowing they all had to mourn in their own way and as many do, Shuri took refuge in her work.
~~O~~
What remained of the Avengers got to their feet when Bruce came into the sitting area to which they'd been brought, escorted by one of the Dora Milaje. The fight with Thanos, and their monumental defeat at his hands, left him with a vacant, stunned expression. His eyes were a glassy brown, and Natasha imagined it was the same for all of them. Bruce's gaze swept over them without appearing to see, or so it seemed until he spoke.
He indicated the woman at his side. "This is, uh, Zaleema." A hand waved in the air as if he were searching for words. "She, uh, she's…"
Thankfully, Zaleema took control. "Princess Shuri has commanded that you be treated as honored guests." She gestured and the group trailed after her.
The heavier than usual tread of her companions accompanied Natasha as they walked the halls of the palace. To her, it felt like the last few yards to a place you would never want to go, whatever the location. The steady thump of Steve, Rhodey and Thor's heavier tread, the click of Rocket's claws, and Bruce's soft padding, sounded loud to her ears. All she could think about was closing the door of her room so she could remove her metaphorical mask and cry.
"If there is anything you require beyond the basic needs, please ask. I know that you are tired and hungry. Though you may not wish to eat, it is essential that you keep up your strength. The sacrifices of those we lost will mean nothing if we become ill. Taking care of ourselves, mind, body and soul, is a way of honoring their lives and their sacrifice." She came to a stop. "Rooms have been assigned and coded to your specific DNA. They will be yours for however long you need them. You will find clothing in the closets."
Zaleema inclined her head as a gesture of leave-taking. When she'd gone, no one moved. To dispel the inertia, Natasha picked a room. The door opened as she approached. Feeling she was being watched, she turned in the doorway. Bruce had been given the room immediately across from hers. Their eyes locked for a moment, then the moment was gone. His gaze slid away and the door closed between them.
Natasha wanted to go to him and she could see the same in his eyes. It was in that slight sway in her direction as if pulled by a magnet. For now, she would be content with wallowing in her own misery. And when they were both ready to be a comfort to each other, she would know.
Her gloves came off and were laid on the counter with her weapons. The soft glow of a circle of light came from the wall to her left. She touched the circle and the door disappeared into the wall showing that there were clothes hanging in the closet. With very little thought, she grabbed the first two garments that looked like they matched and laid them on the foot of the bed.
In the bottom of the closet she found a pair of flat and vaguely foot shaped pieces of material. She laid them next to the bed then stripped out of the black jumpsuit and her underclothes, tossing it all on the counter with the weapons.
Standing in front of the mirror, she examined the bumps, bruises, scrapes and cuts. "It'll look even worse tomorrow."
Dismissing her injuries as unimportant, Natasha availed herself of a long, hot shower.
~~O~~
The door to the dining room stood open, affording Bruce a full view of the people seated at tables and moving through the line to make their choices, some talking, others not. The Avengers would be members of the "not" category.
He reached for a tray, startled when it hovered in front of him, maintaining a distance of four to five inches from his body. His meal was chosen without regard to nutritional value and more because he just wanted to get it all over with so he could go back to his room. A cup for coffee joined the other items.
Plucking the tray from the air, Bruce's eyes roamed over the seating, spotting Natasha headed for a quiet corner. They hadn't had a chance to talk beyond that necessary for the battle, and to tell the truth, he had no idea what to say. She would expect an explanation of his whereabouts for the last two years. Easy enough. But would she believe that he'd been the Other Guy for all that time, not once reverting to Bruce Banner? His memories of that time were sketchy. Natasha would have to be content with what he could tell her.
She saw him and issued a silent invitation.
Natasha wore a pair of loose-fitting linen pants in the varied colors of a freshly picked peach, topped with a tunic-like blouse in a shade of yellow that reminded him of a sunflower. Since the day they met, he'd never seen her less than fully put together and today was no exception.
The blonde hair was new, and though he preferred the red, the newness pleased him too. The best part of the changes in them was knowing they were both being themselves and not changing who they were for the other person.
As always, Natasha looked elegant and stylish, while Bruce felt like last year's news in his dark blue pants, matching shirt in a lighter shade, and hair that had almost as much silver as black.
~~O~~
Bruce transferred the plates to the table, startled again when the tray left his hands and floated over to a stack of identical trays. He seated himself, opened the napkin and spread it over his lap. When he finally looked up, Natasha was watching him while chewing. Uncertain how to begin the conversation, he stayed silent.
He cut a bite of food, chewed and swallowed, looking up sharply when Natasha scolded gently, "Two years, Bruce. You didn't call. You didn't write. Not even a postcard."
The tone had disproportionate elements of humor and irritation with the latter winning out. "I know, and I'm sorry. Rest assured I have a very good reason." The unblinking stare that used to make him twitchy now gave him the incentive to go on. The incentive being making her stop. "Last thing I remember prior to a few days ago," he smiled in remembrance, "was hearing you say you adored me."
"Where'd you go? You know, after Ultron?"
"Not by choice, I ended up on a planet called Sakaar, under the rule of the Grandmaster. Long story." Bruce gave her a moment to absorb the information, using that time to take a long sip of coffee poured by a robot attendant. "I spent the last two years as the Hulk, so my memory's sketchy."
Only someone who knew her well would've seen the softening of her expression, it was that subtle. The only real indication to the world of what Natasha was feeling showed in the clenching of her hand where it lay on the table.
"As excuses go, it's not terrible." She tore off a piece of bread and dipped it in the sauce, eyeing him through her long lashes while chewing and swallowing. "What changed you back?"
Trusting that his overture wouldn't be rejected, Bruce curled his hand around her smaller one, patiently waiting for her to respond to the small gesture of affection. Her eyes dropped to their hands. Did he imagine that little hitch in her breath at first contact? She turned her hand over so they were touching palm to palm, forcing his fingers to separate and weaving their fingers together. It was just the answer he hoped for. Their eyes locked and a pair of slow smiles turned up their lips.
"You, Natasha. You changed me back." Bruce lightly tugged until he could hold her smaller hand between his, pressed against his chest to let her feel his heart. "I've been waiting two years to say this. Just don't push me into a deep dark hole again." Natasha's green eyes sparkled with tears that he knew would stay unshed until she was behind closed doors. "I adore you too."
~~O~~
Neither had eaten much. Barely enough to refuel their bodies. Bruce got up to refill their drinks rather than wait for the robot attendant and saw the rest of their group sitting in a corner picking at their food. Rocket knelt in the seat to reach the table. Of the four, he was the only one eating with any enthusiasm. It was his way of coping.
He stared into his cup hoping to find the answers to how they'd been defeated so soundly, and if there was a way to reverse it. Nothing came to him and his mind drifted. He was startled at the feel of a warm hand slipping into his, not realizing he'd dozed off. When he looked up, Natasha smiled. "Come with me, Dr. Banner. I'm putting you to bed."
Bruce meekly followed Natasha to their assigned rooms. The whoosh of the door opening roused him enough to take a look at his surroundings. "This isn't my room."
Before the last word was out of his mouth, she was in his arms, rubbing her lips and body against his. Those wonderful hands wrapped around his neck, holding him close. Letting instinct lead, Bruce skimmed his palms over Natasha's waist and hips, moving up to caress her lower ribs.
She separated their mouths, leaving their bodies touching. When he opened his eyes, her smile was a promise. "It's my room." One shoulder twitched a small shrug. "Ours, if you want."
Bruce cuddled her to his chest and she laid her head on his shoulder. "I've wanted nothing else for so long, it seems like forever."
"Fury sent me to Calcutta to recruit you, but he was also playing matchmaker." Natasha walked to the bed and Bruce sat next to her. "When did you know?"
Chuckling, he rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. "You don't ask the easy questions, do you?" Thinking back over the years, he realized there wasn't one specific instance to which he could point. Rather, a series of moments. Natasha deserved nothing less than the truth, so he started at the beginning. "I was attracted to you from the moment you pulled a gun on me in that rundown shack." Her head rested against his shoulder again. "What about you?"
"When I almost died in a bunker in New Jersey." Natasha took a deep, shuddering breath. "I thought my chance had passed me by."
~~O~~
Bruce interrupted Natasha by yawning. He had to be exhausted, because she was.
He chuckled again. "Sorry. I literally went from one war to another. Takes a lot out of a guy."
Pressing a hand to his cheek, she turned him to look at her. "Then it's time you went to bed, Dr. Banner." She brushed a feather soft kiss over his lips. "Stay with me."
"I'm glad you asked because I don't want to be alone either." They stood together. "I'll just get my pajamas and…"
She gripped his hand tighter. "Don't bother." At his questioning glance, she graced him with a sultry grin and one eyebrow lifted cheekily. "You won't need them."
Walking backward, Natasha drew him to one side of the bed, lifted the covers and had him sit. She removed his shoes. He laid down and she pulled the covers up to his chest.
His eyes tracked her around to the opposite side, so intense it was like a physical touch. Natasha kicked off her shoes and got under the covers, snuggling against his side, closing her eyes when Bruce kissed her temple. As one, they sighed in contentment, however temporary, and within moments, were asleep.
And for the next few hours, they left the pain of loss behind them.