Or perhaps he found their parting as difficult to contemplate as she and was trying somehow to take some of the emotion from it.
Mary Balogh, from Tangled

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Or perhaps he found their parting as difficult to contemplate as she and was trying somehow to take some of the emotion from it.
Mary Balogh, from Tangled
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark Characters: Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Tony Stark, Steve Rogers Additional Tags: Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Fix-It, Post-Canon Fix-It, Marvel Norse Lore, References to Norse Religion & Lore, The Norns - Freeform, Healing, Healthy Relationships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Feels, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, They're Dead But Not Really, I promise, Tony Stark is a Good Dad, Protective Steve Rogers, I cried multiple times while writing this, it's a lot, Though I'd Be Lying If I Said It Was The Weirdest Thing I've Written, Which is saying something, Oh And People Get Shocked, Like Electrically, is that a trigger?, not sure Summary:
“Do you see?” Urd whispers. “Do you?”
Natasha looks up at the Tree, then down at her hands. She thinks about her broken body at the base of that cliff; she thinks about Tony’s trembling fingers and his lacerated arm. She thinks about wormholes and brave tin men with two hearts: one in their vulnerable, all-too-human bodies and one outside, an indestructible symbol, shining blue for all the world to see. She thinks about closing portals too soon and earth’s mightiest heroes and loving a man who lets go when she wants to stay and letting go herself to the lullaby of her best friend’s screams. She thinks about the harbingers of a better life, about letters crashing to the ground, leaving the only one that matters, the first, battered and bruised but still standing. She thinks about what it is to be a part of something.
What it is to assemble.
-
for some reason, tony and natasha can’t ascend to the afterlife. stuck together in a sort of limbo, all they have to do is talk. and oh, something about this place prevents them from lying.
Leave-Taking I do not know where either of us can turn Just at first, waking from the sleep of each other. I do not know how we can bear The river struck by the gold plummet of the moon, Or many trees shaken together in the darkness. We shall wish not to be alone And that love were not dispersed and set free— Though you defeat me, And I be heavy upon you.
But like earth heaped over the heart Is love grown perfect. Like a shell over the beat of life Is love perfect to the last. So let it be the same Whether we turn to the dark or to the kiss of another; Let us know this for leavetaking, That I may not be heavy upon you, That you may blind me no more.
LOUISE BOGAN
He looked at me, his imminent departure upon his face. 'Thank you.' 'Just stay alive,' I said. 'I do not know what or where we will—' 'I know,' I whispered. 'Have faith.' An odd thing for me to say, but I did have faith. In him and in me.
Alison Goodman, from The Ladies Road Guide to Utter Ruin
She had hugged David . . . and felt a terrible dread for him and begged him to keep himself safe.
Mary Balogh, from Tangled
. . . and then took leave of each other with many exclamations of regard.
Iris Murdoch, from Under the Net
A poem by Louise Bogan
Leave-Taking
I do not know where either of us can turn Just at first, waking from the sleep of each other. I do not know how we can bear The river struck by the gold plummet of the moon, Or many trees shaken together in the darkness. We shall wish not to be alone And that love were not dispersed and set free— Though you defeat me, And I be heavy upon you.
But like earth heaped over the heart Is love grown perfect. Like a shell over the beat of life Is love perfect to the last. So let it be the same Whether we turn to the dark or to the kiss of another; Let us know this for leavetaking, That I may not be heavy upon you, That you may blind me no more.
Louise Bogan (1897-1970)
Originally published in Poetry, August 1922.