Babysitting was not something I had any experience in. I'll get that confession off my chest straight away.

I still don't know why Pepper asked me to do this. Or any of us, for that matter. Looking after children was surely not something that a superhero mentioned in their list of abilities, since their thing was more saving cities and planets and universes and the like. But it was apparently an appointment she and Hogan had, a commitment, something about the Spiderling or the Human-Spider or whatever he called himself making a charity appearance in New York, so she had to be out of the house for the night.

Being the spawn of Stark, we were all sure the young one could take care of herself, but apparently she wasn't yet of legal age to be left in a house alone. Funny how out of all the laws that became essentially meaningless after the Decimation, childcare provisions like that have remained perfectly intact.

The shrinking couple were busy with their Quantum Realm business, I supposed, but certainly Rhodey or Dr. Banner had to have been the preferable choice over me. But since myself and the Guardians, or AsGuardians as we'd been dubbed by our washed-up, lightning-powered tag-along, weren't meant to head back into space until tomorrow, we and the Avengers decided to draw straws.

As you'd expect, Quill was the one to suggest this, being even more of a man out of time than Captain Rogers. Barton opted out since he had already regained plenty of child commitments of his own, not to mention he still looked like an actual assassin you wouldn't trust your children with. I wasn't that mad when I got the shortest, I only punched a hole through one computer screen. Thanos may be gone but losing was all too familiar to me, and frankly I think Stark was spoiling me when he let me win at table football those five long years ago. But seeing that I was narrowly beaten by both Thor and the fox, I may have been doing the child a service simply by not being either of them.

Pepper told me to get there about seven, since she was leaving fifteen minutes after that. She was going to make dinner for her daughter and they'd have eaten before I arrived, so I wouldn't have to worry about anything in the kitchen aside from a warning regarding the juice pops that were in the freezer.

So I wouldn't have to cook and the girl was past the age of toilet training so I wouldn't need to contribute to a situation regarding that either. With those things not being issues, the rest of the job couldn't be that hard, right?

It was easy enough at first, just sitting on their couch watching TV while she did childish escapades behind me. Pepper had taken the liberty of locking away anything too sharp or blunt or more technologically advanced than a child-locked, 10th Generation iPad Mini. The girl wasn't any trouble, with the exception of occasionally bringing over some messy crayon drawing she'd done in her recreational time to force me to look at it and give my opinion.

"What do you think?" she asked me excitedly as I observed the barely comprehensible piece of Danvers and Thor shaking hands over my father's dismembered body. I was tempted to ask why they had bright orange skin and my father had a long beard instead of his chin markings, or why half the colours she used crossed far past the lines of the actual drawing, but rather than risk starting an analysis or, even worse, a conversation, I simply gave my bluntest and most honest response possible.

"I think you should leave the artwork to someone else."

Quill and Banner had both insisted that I try my best not to say anything too cruel to the child, but I'm not sure why they would advise that with me and me alone. Saying things like this couldn't possibly be cruel, if anything they were helping her. If I'd ever drawn something like this for my father as a girl I'm sure he'd have had both my hands cut off multiple times until I could accurately recreate some of the art one may find in the ancient temples such as that Sistine Chapel place. My approach here was far more merciful.

With my constructive criticism done, I scoffed as I folded the paper and passed it back to her, letting her silently take it back to her pile of books and pencils. Pepper had told me she wanted her child in bed by the time she got back, which was apparently going to be somewhere around midnight. I didn't have to do anything about that, at least, since the little one retired to her bedchamber not long before ten, and of her own accord as well. My only required contribution to this was a little groan when she told me "goodnight" on her way up the stairs.

I was somewhat relaxed as it was, but with the child finally away in her bed I could finally completely release any tension I'd built up in case of an emergency. I lay back even further on the couch and let out a slight yawn, still surprised by how the night went on without a single hitch, and considering who she was descended from I'd been subtly paranoid all night that she would turn out to be a nightmare to deal with. But it seemed all I had to do now was wait for Pepper to get back so I could head off back to the Benatar.

It was about a quarter to eleven when it happened. I'd switched off the TV and was sitting lurched in front of the fire I'd lit. I'd switched off the lamps after my client had gone to her room, so the flames that were dancing around the fireplace were the only source of light in the pitch blackness I was sitting in.

My mind tended to wander aimlessly whenever I sat down alone like this, usually about my past experiences. I wasn't much of a crier, not in public or with other people, anyway, but there was just something about the darkness yet also the warmth of this place that was getting to me. My eyes were starting to leak and I was sniffling like a pig trying to stop them.

Thanos. Ego. The Decimation. Stark. Rogers. Romanoff. Yondu. Gamora. They were all racing around my mind and I could nothing about it but break down sobbing. No matter how many times I wiped my face with the back of my hand more tears came streaming out, and I must have been like this for a good few minutes when I finally heard the noise.

Crrreeeaaakk...

I jolted up straight and let out a visceral grunt as I grabbed the spare dagger from my boot and swivelled around intensely. I pointed the blade in the direction of the staircase where a small figure was sitting silently on the third step up.

"You..." my voice was stern and straight as I lowered my weapon and turned my head slightly away to make sure the tear-streams on my cheeks weren't visible. I turned back with a groan and a scowl to the figure. "You should be asleep."

The girl nodded nervously, stepping out onto the porch and letting the flames of my fire make her more visible to me as she brushed her auburn hair out of her face. Her arms were folded, perhaps because she was cold in her pyjamas and slippers, and she seemed a little lost despite this being her house.

"I couldn't sleep..."

Couldn't sleep? Pah, nonsense. I resisted the urge to scoff out loud at this girl's petty standards of sleeping conditions.

Remembering those twenty-two long, uncomfortable days on the Benatar following the Decimation it dawned on me that this inability to sleep must have been inherited from her father. He'd been through a lot, a lot more than this four and a half year old could have been through, that's for sure. I never asked, but I knew. I know parents usually passed physical traits onto their offspring, like eye, skin or hair colour, but surely sleeping patterns weren't a thing that was inherited. But whatever, she was surely just being dramatic.

When I was her age I didn't have a room to myself, or even a bed. Whenever I wasn't being torn apart and put back together again like some lab rat, all I had was the hard, grimy and freezing floor of Thanos' Sanctuary, a very misleading name for such a hell hole. Most nights I'd have given anything to have just an hour of sleep, something to keep the night terrors from waking me up all night. Something to keep the pain from my implants from eating away at my body as I tossed and turned. Or if fate were truly kind to my childhood self, I'd have settled for an eternal sleep to end my miserable existence in that cruel, barren torture chamber I was forced to call a home. And here this little brat was, just saying that she's not sleeping because she couldn't. Pathetic.

I managed to remain deadpan and perhaps a little patronising in my approach. "So... you can't sleep, huh... why not?"

"My... my, um..."

For some reason, she sighed gently as I finally noticed she was clutching something in her folded arms. I had to squint a little just to see what it was, with the light of the fire making the red and gold colour scheme visible. The shape looked like one of those build-a-bear things, with it's basic body shape and the small circular ears that were sewn to the top of its head. The face didn't look like a typical stuffed toy, instead it looked drawn onto the head. The main body of the toy was red with the gold only being in certain highlights on the arms, legs and the face drawn here. It was a mask shape, and a very distinct mask at that.

Iron Man.

"My daddy used to tell me stories to make me go to sleep... but, now..."

"Oh..." was the only thing that managed to come out of my slightly ajar mouth after about five seconds of awkward, wide-eyed silence. "Right, that... that could be a problem..."

It was almost funny. The whole reason I was even here was because of it, but I'd almost forgotten that Tony's death didn't just cost us an ally and a friend, or the Earth it's number one weapons genius and billionaire philanthropist.

Pepper lost a husband, Morgan lost a father. They were ground zero for this event. Damn this child for making me feel so guilty as she turned around and slowly headed back up the stairs. But I suppose it was my fault that I spoke up here.

"I..."

Shit. I almost wish I hadn't muttered this, at least not loud enough for her to hear me. She did though, and stopped on the spot just halfway up the stairs. She turned around to face me, and I knew I had a panicked look on my face as my neurons scrambled around in my brain, desperately trying to make me say something.

"I could, um... I... I could tell you a... a story. If you want, that is..."

Why was I doing this? No, this couldn't have been the right action to take. I had to shut up before she said yes! Why was my stupid mouth still flapping on like this?!

"I've, um... ha ha... I've been told by the fox that I'm my voice makes storytelling by me very boring... it could remedy your sleep deprivation."

A little grin crossed Morgan's pudgy little face and she quickly ran back down the stairs, climbing over the back-end of the couch so she could clamber over to me. I raised both my arms almost in surrender as she sat on my left thigh, but I had to lower my left arm to hold her up so she didn't fall back and hit her head or something. The sharp metal of my fingers wasn't seeming to bother her since she rested back against my prosthetic forearm fine, clutching her stuffed Iron Bear and clearly looking forward to the story I'd offered to tell her.

Well, this was happening now, and I could do nothing about it. I almost blanked out for a moment, since I had no idea how I was actually supposed to deliver on what I offered to her. I'd watched some films with Thor and the Guardians showing how the usual way to tell children story, normally it began "with once upon a time", or "a long time ago in a galaxy far far away", or something like that.

Alright, now for an actual story. It took me a few seconds to think about one that could be both exciting and relevant to Morgan and what she was probably dealing with, before my thoughts eventually settled on an old animated film that Thor made us watch one day. It had an awfully long and ridiculous title, but much like that one with the panda learning martial arts the movie itself was very mature and well-made. I remember when Thor made us watch it's two sequels as well, but he never shut up about how much the main character's mother sounded just like his half-sister. Nevertheless, this seemed like the perfect tale to tell little Morgan.

"Well, um... once upon a time... there was... there was a little island. A little island near Thor's New Asgard place, full of brutish, stubborn warriors..."

Morgan was clearly already getting into it, perching herself even straighter as she giggled lightly. Okay, not off to that bad a start. Now, what else was in that film?

"So, this island was... it was always under attack, from flying, fire-breathing monsters that kept raiding their village and taking their food... and the war was getting worse and both the warriors and the monsters were going to wipe each other out."

"Hmm..." was the sound Morgan made in response. It was a vague "Hmm", and I couldn't really tell if it was an interested one, a worried one or an indifferent one. So I continued with the tale.

"Alright, and uh... and one day, a little boy from the village shot down one of the monsters, the rarest and most dangerous of them all..."

In hindsight, it seemed that I was projecting myself with a lot more effort than usual, making my voice sound surprisingly dramatic and invested, almost like a professional storyteller, and her grin had grown into a wide smile as she made herself more comfortable sitting on my thigh. Perhaps the Fox was wrong. Maybe I wasn't so boring a storyteller after all.

"He earned the right to kill it, but he couldn't do it... he wouldn't do it... he was too kind and caring, so he set the beast free, helped it recover from his injuries and, over time, gained it's trust... it turned out these monsters weren't really monsters after all, and it took a little convincing, but soon, all the warriors made friends with the monsters and ended their war... all thanks to the boy and his fire breathing friend..."

"Is this How To Train Your Dragon?"

I could feel my eyes widen as Morgan said this, looking down to see her still-smiling little face. "What?"

"How To Train Your Dragon... the movie?"

"No, it isn't."

"Well it sounds like it is..."

"This is my story that I'm telling you, so you'll go to sleep and stop annoying me... ha-ha..."

Even I was shocked by how gentle and happy I was trying to sound when I said this to her, so I brought back my usual tone as I added "it's not about Enter The Drain and Drag it or whatever you just said."

That misnomer wasn't meant to be a joke, or at least not one that she was actually meant to laugh at. But her frantic, little girly giggles at my remark were indications that I was at least making some progress, so I cleared my throat and I continued with my tale.

"Anyway... even though they changed their people's minds, other people in the world weren't convinced. The monsters were being hunted down, and the boy wanted to bring all the monsters into their island for safety, but he just made his own people a target..."

"Did his monster get a girlfriend? Because that was from the movie too..."

This was a smart kid, I had to admit. Smart yet sassy, and one could not ponder for long where and who she got that from. Usually I would respond with a deadpan comment of my own, but here I did something different. It was strange.

I brought my metal hand up a bit and lightly put it on her shoulder, prodding her gently in the chest with my right index finger as I said "yes, his monster does get a girlfriend, but I'm not at that part yet... be patient, though, it's coming..."

So I carried on for a good half hour, and we both enjoyed every minute of it. It was even more fun than taking part in a great battle or a game of table football, spinning the tale of alphas and armadas, a chief's ascension, a hidden world under the ocean, and eventually, the monster meeting his sparkly white love interest.

"The Hunter was drowned and the monsters were safe, but the boy knew that this was only a sign of the times. There would always be bad people in the world, people that didn't understand or didn't like the way of life he and his village had chosen, and as long as he lived it he only made the ones he loved more of a target... he might not have been able to save the monsters if this ever happened again, but the decision he made here allowed him to protect them forever..."

Morgan nodded, gently squeezing her plushie again and holding it close to herself. "He let them go..."

I nodded solemly, stroking the back of her head. "That's right... the monsters went to the safe place and the rest of the world moved on from them... but they thrived there, they were safe, and the boy and his people remembered them. Always. If you think about it, they didn't let them go at all, really... they were together from afar..."

"Yeah..." Morgan sniffled as she wiped her nose with the back of her hand. I wasn't blaming her for not sleeping anymore, and I definitely wasn't going to let her go to bed feeling down. And, if I had to be honest, feeling her with me here was actually kind of nice. So I put my hand on her shoulder again just to make sure she didn't slip away just yet.

"Look, Morgan, the... ugh..." I sighed a little as my prosthetic gently patted her on the back. "The point of the story is... it's that the boy and his monster loved each other very much... hmm... they loved each other 3000. And the boy loved his monster so much that he was willing to sacrifice their friendship for his friend to be safe."

Morgan nodded, sniffling a little more as she clearly knew what and who I was trying to draw a parallel with. Rather than keeping her dreary, I held back my own tears as I gently brushed her hair out of her face again, feeling a grin gently pull across my own mouth.

"But even when one of them went away, neither of them ever forgot how important the other was to them, no matter how far apart they were... because love can be that powerful. I mean, the truth is... I know love doesn't always seem like a nice thing..." I had to look away from her as I said this. She was definitely going to start crying and if I saw that I was sure to follow suit, if I didn't break down right now.

"You know sometimes, there's... there's pain, there's death, there's... there's just loss. That's just part of the deal..."

Tony. Steve. Natasha. Gamora. It was all getting to me again, but I stayed strong as I spoke, even when my voice got a little choked.

"And those times hurt... sometimes they hurt bad, but... in the end... in the end..."

I let myself look down at her, not really caring if there was a tear coming down my face, which I was sure there definitely there was. "Hmm... if it hurts to lose something you love, then it was worth loving. Wasn't it...?"

Morgan looked up at me, with her wide, youthful, curious yet also strangely knowing eyes piercing like a dagger into my cold, empty soul. Or at least it was cold and empty, before she stared into it. I was quickly snapped out of the almost trance-like state she put me in as she suddenly began shuffling up my thigh, wrapping her arms around my waist and pulling herself closer to me. My arms were both up at first as she did this, but eventually I stopped resisting the temptation.

I wrapped my own arms around her and held her closer to me, letting her head rest just over my heart as we both broke down. If I went any tighter I'm fairly certain I'd have crushed her until she popped, but I at least restrained myself in that regard. Instead, I gave her gentle, almost parental little peck on the top of her head, before she looked up at me again with both our faces being soaked and streamed by the crying.

"There's no greater gift than love, Morgan. Remember that."

She nodded before wrapping herself close to me again and we stayed like this for a good twenty minutes or so. We didn't want anything else right now, just each other's company, it was all the comfort we needed at this point. So no, I'll admit babysitting was not something I had any experience in. But for a first attempt, I'd say it went pretty well.

We'd eventually calmed down enough when she separated from the hug and sat next to me on the couch rather than on my leg. She gently reached for my left prosthetic, taking my fake hand without any fear of it's sharp, cold metal fingers, and clasped it in her own.

"Um... Nebby..."

Nebby. She called me Nebby. Even when I was on good terms with Gamora and the Guardians they never gave me a nickname, but I liked the sound of this one. If anyone but this sweet little angel had called me this their spine would be removed through their anus, but with Morgan, I think it'll stick. "Uh... yes?"

"Do you want a juice pop?"

"Hmm... sure, I'd love one.."

I'd never tried a juice pop before, but apparently they were pretty good, according to the others. Morgan climbed down from the couch and was about to lead me to the kitchen, but I was then tempted to make a little suggestion of my own. "Hey, Morgan."

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever played table football?"

THE END