Chapter Text
Natasha woke up today as she usually did. At precisely 6 in the morning, so she could hop into the gym and work out, maybe squeeze in a little training session for her Krav Maga or Judo skills, and then continue to the range and keep her focus intact by shooting some targets.
Then she'd hop into the shower, brush her teeth, put her clothes on and be ready for work at precisely 10 in the morning. She'd usually grab an apple or some health drink just to boost her electrolytes. It wasn't that she was on a strict diet, if anything she'd be advised to eat more, but because she was too unbothered to prepare any kind of proper breakfast food without feeling like she was in a hurry.
Today, she grabbed a banana. She ran out of apples a few days ago and didn't have the time to go grocery shopping yet.
On her way driving to work, she would usually pick up her phone and dial your number, just to see if you were awake or not. After all, you were more prone to sleeping in than she was. Sometimes she'd call Yelena as well, but the last time she did that, she earned an incoherent yell and then she heard a very loud thunk as Yelena threw her phone across the room. Sleeping Yelena was the equivalent of a sleeping bear.
Y/N, read the phone screen, your name glowing against the dark background.
You didn't pick up.
Natasha chuckled under her breath as the call dropped, smirking. "If she slept in today, Steve's going to be pissed."
She tried again. Usually, at this point, you would've woken up by the sound of your phone ringing. Even if you were quite the sleeper, your senses were sharp as hell. The phone ringing would not go past your notice, even in an unconscious state.
"Pick up!" Natasha groaned into the phone as if her persuading the electromagnetic waves would create a difference.
It didn't go through again.
She set her phone down, her mind reeling for answers. You never ignored her calls in the morning, not even when you were asleep. It was a routine the both of you had gotten used to, and it wouldn't make sense for you to stop now. Her eyes darted back and forth from the rearview mirror and to the road in front of her.
"Screw it."
Natasha turned the wheel abruptly, swerving her vehicle to the left so she could get into the next lane, the one that led to your apartment. It earned her a few honks and some very audible cursing from the other drivers, but her mind was focused on one thing only — you.
It felt like an hour driving to your place, even if in reality it was only 10 minutes. She tried to calm herself down, mentally scolding herself. You're just freaking out, Natasha. She's probably still asleep, kept her phone on silent. Maybe she's already on her way to work and left her phone at home. Or maybe she's just in the shower. She's fine. Y/N's fine.
But no, you weren't. Deep down she knew that the change in your routine couldn't have meant anything even remotely positive. You were both assassins with high prices on your heads. She stepped on the gas, going even faster than the legal limit.
The minute she showed up in front of your building, she jumped out of the car, not even bothering to take the key out of the ignition. She could deal with her Corvette Stingray being stolen, what she couldn't deal with was her sister being in any sort of danger.
Entering your apartment was no problem. Luckily, she had a spare key on her, so she wouldn't have to waste any time or risk any injuries by trying to knock down the door with her body.
"Y/N!" She yelled, already with her gun in hand aimed straight in front of her, finger readily set on the trigger should she run into any threats. "Y/N, is everything okay?"
She walked into your hallway, throwing open every closed door and checking every possible hiding spot for any lurking enemies ready to pounce.
"Where are you?"
There was nothing but the sound of her footsteps stomping on the hardwood floors and the pitch of her voice echoing, bouncing all over the empty house.
Maybe her mental scolding had been right. It was highly possible that you'd been on your bike an hour ago and you were already at work, and this was all just a laughing matter for the two of you later.
Her posture eased up a little as her thoughts began to settle. She set the gun down to her side, clicking the safety back on and then quickly scanning her surroundings for any sign of danger in your home. There were no signs of forced entry, the lock had been perfectly intact. There were no broken windows, no broken anything. Not even footprints. Everything was clear.
So, why did she have a dreaded feeling in the pit of her stomach?
Her phone rang, and she scrambled to pick it up by yanking it out of her coat pocket. It was Yelena, calling. She pressed the green button and lifted the device to her ear.
"Hello?"
"Natasha, where are you? You're late!"
"I know." She sighed, scrunching her nose up in frustration. "I'm at Y/N's apartment. I came to check up on her but she's probably already at work right? She wasn't picking up-"
"Y/N's not here."
Natasha froze, almost hoping that if she kept still, Yelena's words would change.
"Natasha?"
The redhead tried not to let her voice waver as she explained, "She's not here, Yelena. Where else would she be?"
Natasha stomped towards your room, the one door she hadn't opened yet. She prayed, hard, that she wouldn't find your dead body there. Or else she wouldn't be able to live with herself.
"She's probably still on her bike. Maybe she made a stop somewhere."
"You think?" Natasha raised an eyebrow, pushing the bedroom door open with a silent prayer.
Nothing.
There was no sign of your presence. She didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. She moved on to the bathroom, swinging the door open also to find nothing but inanimate objects lying around as if to taunt her with your absence.
"Probably. I mean, it's Y/N we're talking about. She gives in to every impulse."
She walked out of the bathroom, phone still in hand but her gun now stuffed into the waistband of her jeans. Natasha couldn't shake the bad feeling that was starting to seep into her veins, creating a mixture of anxiety and panic that she did not want to let fester. So, she started rummaging through your things.
"I don't know, Yelena. This feels different. Weird, somehow. It's unlike her to not pick up the phone and be this late to work without even bothering to call either of us. "
"Well, maybe she called Steve."
Natasha shook her head, standing in the middle of the room with one hand on her hip, trying to figure out why everything felt wrong. That's when her eyes landed on something smooth, matte black and obviously concerning.
"No." She gasped, going to reach for the object immediately. "No, Yelena. I knew it! I knew this wasn't right."
"What? What did you find?" The blonde's voice sounded panicked from the other side of the line.
"Lena," Natasha sounded desperately worried. "She left her gun here. This isn't like Y/N, you know that! She never leaves without her weapon. Oh my God."
She wanted to double over and puke at the amount of stress flowing through her body right now, but she also wanted to run all over the goddamn city and leave no stone unturned to find you, right that second.
Yelena was silent for a while. Natasha almost ripped her phone from her ear to check if she was still on the line. But Yelena spoke into it before she had the chance to, "I'll call Steve and Tony. Let them know."
Natasha heard the click of the dial-tone as soon as Yelena finished talking. She examined your gun in her hands, turning it over with careful inspection. It was true, you never left the house without your Glock. It was almost like a limb of yours—to all of you. Your weapons were necessary instruments to keep on you at all times.
She sped out of your home, making sure to lock the door behind her before rushing back into her thankfully unharmed car.
She was going to find you, or so help her God.
———
MEANWHILE IN ANOTHER TIMELINE.
"This is incredible..." You muttered to yourself, chuckling at the slightly humorous revelation you just had as soon as you walked into Sam's house. "It's hilarious."
"What is?" Sam turned to you with a visible frown on his face. "You don't agree with my interior designing?"
He pointed to a miniature falcon figurine and you immediately burst out laughing. "That I do not condone. A bit narcissistic are we, Wilson?"
"It was a gift, don't be so harsh!"
"Okay, it is cute. But I didn't mean that specifically. I was talking about your house."
"What about my house?"
"It's exactly like Sam's—well, my Sam from my world. But it's all...mirrored. Like a reflection."
"You mean it's a replica, but it's all on a different side?"
"Yeah, it's like I'm driving in Europe."
You moved through his apartment, tracing your fingertips along with the furniture you passed. The sturdy dinner table, the well-loved couch, the wooden cabinet...everything was exactly like you'd known it to be. You felt like you were Alice, having been tossed into the rabbit hole down into Wonderland.
"So, if you're the alternate version of my Sam, and everyone else is the alternate version of everyone else...how come you don't know me?" The thought had bothered you ever since the car ride. It felt like you'd been left out, in a sick twisted way. "Where's the other version of me?"
Sam had been silently watching your every movement, observing the way you collected the minimal amount of dust from his furniture onto your fingertips, and now his eyes were firmly glued onto yours.
"I don't have an answer to that." He answered truthfully. What would he even benefit from lying to you?
All the names of everyone you trusted with everything you had flicked through your head. Your seemingly dead sister obviously couldn't be in the picture, Steve and Tony, too. Then it hit you. You hadn't even thought about the one other person; your other sister. Not by blood, but she was family through and through.
"Yelena," you breathed out. "Yelena Belova. Where is she? You haven't mentioned her."
"Who? I don't know who that is." Sam shook his head. "I'm sorry, Y/N."
"That's ridiculous. She's an Avenger, too. Or at least where I come from." You huffed. "Don't tell me my only other sister is dead as well here."
"I can't tell you anything because I don't know anything. I don't know a Yelena Belova."
Confusion and frustration pent up in your chest, forming a big bubble of anxiety that you wished you could pop. So, he didn't know you and Yelena. What else was different in this strange world you'd unknowingly landed in?
Sam could see the hope drain out of your eyes. He felt a painful little tug on his heart as he watched you suffer from the mixture of emotions from being thrown into a foreign world. He couldn't even imagine the things that were going through your head. Although he never met you before this, he felt like he owed you something.
He felt like he should be a friend.
Now, maybe it was because he was just a decent guy wanting to help the person suffering in front of him. It wasn't totally out of his character to do so. The Falcon had a thing for taking in the broken and bruised under his wing...Or you could say that the universe had its ways of connecting alternate timelines, tethering Sam Wilson to his alternate persona. Either way, the man felt the need to help you in some way.
"But..." he started, "That doesn't mean we can't look for her. Or you, for that matter."
You perked up at his offer to help you unravel every mystery that had clouded your mind for the 12 hours, your head tilting up to look at him with grateful eyes. But then you had to pace yourself. Yes, you were alone and confused in this strange new world, but you had to keep in mind that this Sam didn't know you and you didn't know him either. They could share a thousand similarities, but that still wouldn't change the fact that it wasn't your best friend standing in front of you, but a replica of him.
"I don't want to impose. Finding me had been trouble enough, plus, you'd just been through hell." You tilted your head slightly, memories of your own war with a certain Titan flashing through your mind. "I don't want to burden you."
"Aw, come on. You won't be any trouble." Sam grinned. "Don't be so full of yourself, either, Princess. I said I'd help you out, it's not like I'm giving you my liver. You won't even cause a dent in my schedule."
You flashed the same jovial grin at him. "I was wrong about you. You and my Sam are not the same."
"Why's that?"
"Because my Sam is a total sweetheart. You are a complete asshat."