Inheritance of ash

Rule Breaker

TW: mentions of suicide/suicidal thoughts.

(Grab a sad playlist)

⸻

"Nat?"

Natasha didn't move.
She didn't turn. Didn't breathe.
Every muscle in her entire body locked.

Everyone else turned instantly—except her.

Because it couldn't be.

It couldn't be.

He was gone.

He had left. Without a word. Without a goodbye. Without her.

Bucky stared, mouth falling open. His voice broke on the single word:

"...Steve?"

That was what finally made Natasha turn.

Steve Rogers stood a few meters away, leaning against the wall, one hand clutching his side. He was limping. Wearing nothing but a jacket, a shirt and pants—no suit, no shield, no protection. He looked pale. Blood smeared down his face.

He smiled faintly, teeth stained red.

"Hey, Nat," he whispered. "It's... it's good to see you."

Then his knees buckled and he collapsed against the wall.

Chaos erupted.

Natasha was the fastest she had ever moved in her life. She slid to her knees beside him, pulling him upright.

"Steve—Steve, look at me. Hey. Look at me."

Bucky, Kate, and Wanda reached them next. Wanda gasped. Kate covered her mouth, tears already falling. Pietro pulled her back by the shoulders before she could get too close.

Nat pushed aside Steve's jacket and lifted his shirt with trembling fingers.

Then she saw it.

A knife.

A full combat blade was lodged in his abdomen.

"No," Natasha breathed, voice breaking. "No, no, no—"

She ripped his hand away from the wound to apply pressure, blood immediately covering her palms.

"MED KIT!" she yelled. "SOMETHING! ANYTHING!"

There wasn't one.

Steve hissed in pain but kept his eyes half-open. He was fading fast.

"Nat," he whispered. "It's... okay."

Blood bubbled at his lips.

Natasha shook her head violently. "Don't. Don't say that. Don't you dare say that!"

His eyelids drooped.

Nat grabbed his face between both hands. "Steve. HEY. Stay awake. You hear me? You don't get to do this to me. Not after everything. You owe me an explanation. You LEFT." Her voice cracked.
"You don't get to die without telling me why."

Steve coughed—blood streaking down his chin.

"I'm... sorry," he managed. "I'm so... sorry."

Natasha's vision blurred with tears.

Behind her, Wanda was sobbing silently in Pietro's arms. Bucky had dropped to his knees, shaking. Sam wasn't breathing. Yelena was physically restraining Kate from running forward. Peter held Vicky, both trembling. Even Tony—drugged out of his mind—was quiet.

Natasha didn't see any of them.

She only saw him.

"Steve—" Her voice shattered. "Please. You can't leave me. Not like this."