Steve's POV

One month:

It drives me nuts knowing she isn't here with me. It's already been one month and I haven't stopped thinking about her once. It doesn't matter what I'm doing, she's always on my mind. Even when I'm asleep. All my dreams are about her. Everything is about her. I picture her face in my mind at least ten times per minute. I've tried calling but she doesn't pick up. All my thoughts always end with her words. Words I'll never forget.

'I'm so sorry, I love you.'

This was enough for me to hold on to hope. That she'll be back and when she is, we'll be together. And I want nothing else.

Two months:

She still doesn't receive my calls. I try to get distracted. I work a lot. Anything to keep my mind on other things. It doesn't work very well though. Actually, it doesn't work at all. Everything reminds me of her. Literally everything! I mean, if I saw and apple, if think of her. Because apples are fruit and fruit is food and Natasha eats way to little. This is how it works with everything. As soon as someone mentions Natasha I get interested. I try not to be too obvious since nobody knows about us but I can't bare to hear anyone else talk about her when I'm not a part of the conversation.

Three months:

My nightmares are back. They have changed a little though. It starts the same way. Natasha's laying beside me in bed and I look into her beautiful green eyes. This is my favourite and only good part of the dream. It feels so real. But then when I wake up, in my dream, and she's gone. It's like she leaves me every night. Over and over again. I'm not even scared about the fact that I wake up 70 years into the future. What scares me is that she isn't there with me. I wouldn't care when or where I went as long as she were by my side.

Four months:

I try to think of our great moments. Everything we've been trough together. All small moments. I've probably went trough them a thousand times. When she looked over at me from the sofa. The way she drank her wine on the balcony. Her expression when she was dreaming a nightmare. That scares me. She seldom sleep and I wonder how she's doing. Her nightmares is probably keeping her up every night. I just want to hold her in my arms. She'd be safe here.

Five months:

Thinking of her hurts now. I want to get her out of my head. But it's impossible. She's stuck there. It's like torture. I miss her so much that it hurts. My bodies aching and I'm not sure if my heart actually is in my body. Sometimes I can swear I can't feel it beating. I've never felt this miserable. She's probably fine but she never received my calls. I honestly don't even know if she's alive. I don't know how she's doing and it's tearing me apart. I've begged her to give me a sign that she's alive but I've got no answer. If this continues, I'm going to look for her.

Six months:

Fury had got a message from Natasha. She was fine, apparently. I knew she only did that so I wouldn't go after her. I wished she had told me instead. I wish a lot of things. I sometimes even pray for her to be okey. I literally get down on my knees before bed and pray that she'll be home soon. Safe and sound. I don't know what else to do. Some nights, most nights, I cry myself to sleep. I feel pathetic but I'm helpless. I feel lost.

Seven months:

I drugged myself with work. Everyone had a lot of process. Especially Wanda, she did really good. I knew Natasha would be proud if he was here. And there she was again. Creeping up around the corner of my mind. I throw the thought away and keep working.

Work, eat, sleep. And the again, over and over and over again.

Eight months:

I went to a party and I met some a woman. I don't even remember her name. It makes me a jackass I know. And I kissed her. I just wanted to feel something. Something to fill the emptiness in my chest. It was a quick kiss. I could barley call it a kiss. I felt it in an instant, that I couldn't let go. It wasn't the same. She wasn't Natasha. Natasha isn't here. I tried really hard to forget her. It was too painful. But I can't. And I won't. I just hope she hasn't forgotten about me.

Nine months:

My body was about to explode. She'll soon be home. She'll be home soon. That's all I could think of. It's not much time left. Not much time. She'll be here. She will. I miss her.

Ten months:

Soon. A word that had went through my head for a month or two. It's only days left. Her leaving haven't changed my feeling about her, they have become stronger. I know that it isn't what she wished for, hopefully she actually did, but there's nothing I can do about it.