"Legacy" is going to be a miniseries- seven chapters- and a still undertermined number of small filling-in chapters; the story is the sequel to a chapter of Blackdragon I worked on last year- "A snapshot at a maybe", and it's seen as a continuation of the Next Avengers' story after Avengers World; there are small spoilers for Civil War II, but they are few and small as it was written when just the first 2 or 3 issues had been released.

"Just for the record, if I'll have to call you chicken, I will." James chuckled, smirking, but immediately afterwards, he emitted a low sound that seemed conspicuously like a moan of sufferance, as Torunn hit him, quite strongly, on the side.

On any normal day, Francis would have smirked as well, seeing his "frenemy" rubbing his injured side after having been hit by a team-mate (he wasn't going to point out that James, Super Soldier at the second, had been hit by a girl. Not that he couldn't- he just didn't want to. He respected Torunn way too much to merely describe her as a "girl"; she was a Goddess at the second- and he guessed he could forgive James if he moaned a little in pain after having been hit by a goddess), but today wasn't any day.

And Francis had been standing in front of the door- of his mother's apartment door- for over fifteen minutes, ten of which with his fist lifted in the air as to knock, but never actually doing it.

The dark blonde archer sighed as he put his hands in his pockets and turned to face his team-mates. Seriously, what was he doing? Did he really think it was a good idea? He didn't know anything about this woman who could come to be- in the future- his mother. Hell, until the day before, he hadn't even known she was his mother to begin with.

And all because he and his father were as closed-off as they came. Seriously- was it really so hard to show him some pictures? Tell him a bloody name? But of course Clint Barton couldn't do anything like normal people (not that there was anything even remotely normal in their future, but still…) , otherwise, Francis would have been raised together with the other "kids". Not that he regretted his adventures and the people he had met- because he didn't- but, he guessed it could have been cool. Growing up with people his own age. And who knew? Maybe, all of them together- the Legacy Avengers, Hulk and Stark and his dad- could have done something sooner. Defeat Ultron before they did.

"Are we going to do something? Otherwise we could drop by The Triskelion. My father's there, and I read an article on a thing called "The New York Times" where it was stated that he is assembling there his own team of "Black Avengers" -which, let me tell you, is quite racist as a term. Even for this time. Maybe Storm of the X-Men will be there, too." Azari was looking at his nail, wondering if and when he would have met his mother; he didn't remember his father, but he had like flashes of his mother, the white-haired goddess of the Ancient myths. It had happened a lot, especially since moving into this strange new world that was – or maybe could be –their past; he was starting to wonder if it was all in his head and the time- this present - was influencing him, or if he was really having flashbacks of his infancy.

"They still got X-Men here? I thought that the Terrigen Mists had already nullified the X-Gene by now…." Henry was scratching his chin, doing the math; despite being the younger- and shorter- of the team, he still behaved like the most grown-up one, the one with the more accurate knowledge (which could actually be true), but, even to his friends, it still seemed odd. Someone so young-looking wasn't supposed to be so wise- nor to have lived what any of them had gone through.

"I am a mutant." Azari answered coolly, with a lifted eyebrow; Francis, despite the circumstances, laughed behind his teeth- Azari, the son of The Black Panther and of Storm, right now seemed more the son of Storm and, given what he had read and seen, of Namor. Seriously- he did look like Namor, with the whole "Royal Highness who's been offended by ignorant mortals" air.

"You are the last mutant. Which is odd. But I think that your mother's X-Gene may have developed a resistance to the Terrigen Mists due to her vampirism. Not that she is a vampire- but she used to be. And something may have stuck with her unknowingly to your parents." Pym looked amazed, lost in his thoughts. He was a bit like his father- lost and happy with the job, forgetting about people. "Man, if I could get my hands on some of her DNA, I could try to hard-drive the mutation into a strand of air-wave virus, thus making the world livable to mutants again… I can already see it… the Nobel, the "Henry Pym Jr. School for higher learning for gifted youngsters"…"

"Let me guess: you are Pym's progeny from the future." The kids turned and looked at the young, smirking woman leaning against the doorframe of the apartment; Chris Stark, dressed with a simple polo shirt and jeans, barefoot, with her long reddish hair knotted messily, seemed both younger than her years- and yet, they could all see in her shiny black eyes both wisdom and sweetness beyond her years. "Hi, kids."

"Did you read our mind?" James asked confused, blushing a little; despite anything- the fact that she knew him to be Steve and Tasha's son, that he wasn't the child she had called him to be, for age and experience, Chris felt the odd compulsion to mess his hair, in the same way her brother and Clint liked to do, just to get a rise out of her.

Chris pointed at the ceiling. "Cameras. You've been staying outside my door for over fifteen minutes. It was starting to get creepy." She put her hands back in her pockets. "So… I'm not sure what I want to know first, if the name of the genius who broke the timeline again or if you are here to see Clint…"

"Dad's here?" Francis gasped. He hadn't seen his father in years- he had met his… current version, a few years back, but he had the feeling that right now it could be… different. Especially in light of the fact that he was about to tell his mother that she was his mother to begin with. Something that neither of them had known when they had met that very first time.

Besides… as far as he knew- well, as far as Pym genius extraordinary knew- Clint and Stark had never been in a relationship before. Hell- maybe even "Tony" didn't know that he was his nephew…

Chris simply smiled, and showed them inside. "My home away from home is your home. Your father is on the couch looking at the Olympics- archery, if you can believe it."

"Actually, Miss Stark, we aren't…" Francis wasn't saying anything, he was simply staring at the woman right before him, his blue eyes lightly glassy, so it James who started talking; the young super-soldier was, though, soon cut short by Pym, who cleared his throat. He had already tried to explain how they were supposed to refer to a woman who had won a Nobel for her discoveries on Quantum Physics. "Doctor Stark, we are actually here for you."

"Uh?" She looked at them, quizzically. She wasn't liking any of this- any time she had been involved with time-travel, things had gone south. She hated time travels- and she wasn't sure she liked that this young Avengers were in the past trying to fix it. People wasn't supposed to play with the time-line, nor know about what could or could not happen- they should have learned that much from their recent ordeal with Ulysses, after all.

Once they were all inside, the door safely closed at their backs, Francis took a big breath, remembering who he was, and how father had raised him to be, and tried to look as strong and possible. "Doctor Stark… I'm Francis Barton, and I'm so sorry to just walk in here like this… but I think... I know I'm your son."

Chris simply stared at them with huge eyes, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like I think I may need something strong. Then she took a big breath, and regained her composure, and, scratching the back of her head- in a manner that was so Francis- she showed him to her living room, where Barton father was eating greasy popcorn with watching sports on television- a television Chris turned immediately off, without saying a word.

"Uh?" Clint looked at her quizzically, a mouthful of popcorns still in his mouth; he turned his head slightly to the side, in direction of her accusing finger, and that's when he saw them, still standing on their feet, almost all of them feeling awkward and out of place; he gulped down, and stared at her suspiciously- like she had been the one bringing the "kids" there to begin with. "The future offspring of the Avengers? What are our future kids doing here?"

"Our being the key word here- even if, apparently, you should use it at the singular." If looks could have killed, hers would have done the trick.

"Uh?" Clint repeated, his eyes on Francis; frankly, he wasn't getting any of it. Why were they there? And why was Chris being so mad and frustrating when just the day before she was being all sweet and cute and protective with the whole Don't worry, I'm not going to abandon you even if you did murder a friend of mine because deep down we are family?

"I'm your son." Francis clarified. And when he saw that Clint wasn't getting any of it, again, frustrated, he sighed and clarified the whole thing, phrasing it in a way that didn't leave any room for imagination or misunderstanding. "Your son… as in, of both of you. Yours and Christine's."

Clint looked suspiciously between the group of teens and Chris. "Are you sure of what you are saying? Because… don't get me wrong, but, you know… "

Pym cleared his voice. "We are not asking you to take this at face value, that's why we brought the results of some tests with us so that you could…"

"It's not a lie." Chris bite her lips, deep in concentration as, with crossed arms, she stared at Francis. "I can't read his mind- energy mutations are nullified in familiars, like two poles with the same magnetic frequency don't work on each other. So there's a good chance he is who he claims to be. Besides, I've always wanted to call my son Francis."

Clint grinned. "After me? Oh, baby girl, you are so sweet…"

"For Charles Francis Xavier, actually."

Chris turned to face Clint; she was staring at him quizzically, but not in a good way. Which was starting to frustrate him. "Now what?" He grunted, crossing his arms.

She scratched, again, the back of her head, looking between Clint and his future son- their future son. "It's just… odd, I guess. I mean, I haven't thought about you like that in… a lifetime."

Clint lifted an eyebrow. "You do remember that time we almost did the deed, right? You were a very willingly participant, and it's been just a few years back…"

"Yeah, but, still… I honestly thought that, were I to have children again, it would have been with someone…"

Clint grunted. "What? Less decent than me? Because, I hate to break it to you, but your string of boyfriends has been quite negative since you started dating- with that lovely ex-husband of yours, Wisdom and Hellstorm. Trust me-as much of a screw-up as I am, compared to them I'm a saint."

"Were they twins?" Francis asked, suddenly. "You said again- it's because your children were stillborn, right? Twins- a boy and a girl. Dad told me that my mum was scared of not being able of doing it, that something would have gone wrong because it had happened already once with her twins."

"Why. We do have a child together." Clint looked at her, who was standing at crossed arms. Without moving a muscle. "That's you freaking out, right?"

"Yeah. No. I just…" She took a big breath. "Water. I need some cold water. Don't you want some water after all that salty popcorn?"

"No, I actually don't…"

"Yes, you do!" She hissed as she dragged him with brute force to the kitchen, forgetting for one second their guests- but not who they were nor their bomb. "Oh God, that's bad, that's "end of the world" kind of bad…." She moaned as she fell on a chair.

"Now, now, now… you are hurting my male pride…."Clint simply chuckled, but the grin disappeared as soon as he saw that she wasn't calming down; her internal freak-out was turning into a full-scale freak-out, which was more than strange, and worrisome, when it came to Chris. "Is it really that bad? I mean, it's not like we've never thought about it. Besides, you've seen the result. The boy's probably an heartbreaker, and I saw him in action- he's got skills. Maybe even more than I do."

Chris buried her head between her crossed arms, on the table. "I hate time-travel. Do you know what's gonna happen now? Maybe they can have changed reality already! What if by knowing it we don't… you know? Or maybe we will be together, but just because we'll feel like we have to in order to allow Francis to be born? That's awful!"

"Now, now, now…" He patted her on the head, like she was a child; he looked at a sighing Chris; she looked like a baby, and, despite that one occasion when things had almost happened, he had never felt, well, lust for her. Chris wasn't the kind of woman who inspired lust in men: she was serious, extremely smart and elegant, and even her costume were more on the practical side, rather than sexy like many of their co-workers often wore; he wasn't saying she wasn't beautiful, but her beauty was natural and discreet, like some lady from an old time.

He sighed. As modern and free as Chris claimed to be, she didn't do one-night stands, and slept only with men she loved deeply and was serious with; if they had- they were going to have- a child together, well, he was pretty sure that Francis was going to be born inside a long-term relationship. Or maybe he was going to be the cause of a long-term relationship.

Clint looked at her quizzically, with a lifted eyebrow. "You wouldn't have pity sex with me, right? Or just to keep me away from some girl you don't want me to date?" Chris lifted her head, and stared at him like she could kill him in that very moment, and grunted something very un-lady like. "Now, see? You feel better already!"

She groaned something, her head on her right hand. "I hate you, Barton."

But Clint only smirked. "Yeah, but one day, you will not. I mean… Have you seen our kid over there? Man, I can't wait to meet him!" Clint chuckled, looking in direction of the living room, where the kids were seated and were looking television, awaiting for the "adults", knowing all too well that what the couple needed was some room to clear the waters a little bit; he turned to look at Chris, and interlaced their fingers on the table. "You are gonna be so amazing! I mean, you mothered Tony, and me, and Drake, and over half of the Avengers and of the X-Men… I can't wait to see you with our kid!"

Chris blushed lightly, a bit uncomfortable with their interlaced fingers. "Oh, you are so sweet, Barton."

Clint cleared his throat, blushing too as he saw that he was still holding her hand, and it let it go, before turning to look yet again in direction of the kids. "Do you think that they are here to make sure that each and every one of them will be born?"

Chris shuddered. "I think they wanted to meet us- I mean, most of their parents know about that time the Avengers went to the future and met their children. They are to fix the past, Clint, and they know that, even if they were to make it, they could just ensure the birth of an alternate reality and come back to the same future. They know there's a good chance they'll never meet their families, so they want to… see us. Understand if what my brother told them about the Avengers was right."

"Yes, but…" Clint sighed. "I remember what they told me when I first met them, a few years back… I can't get why Tony never told Francis he was your kid? Or why not taking him in like he did with the rest of the children?"

Chris lifted an eyebrow. "Have I been talking with my brother lately?" She rhetorically asked.

"Right." Chris was right: her relationship with Tony had been, at best, stranded; when The Scarlet Witch had returned from "oblivion", Chris had told Tony that, allowing her back on the team, he was doing a mistake, that sooner or later she would have lost control over her powers and done something awful. It had happened, and a result, Tony had become a dark, evil version of himself, that had tried to murder both his sister and Daredevil when they had tried to stop him from dosing half of America with Extremis.

She had sort of forgiven him for that- she knew he hadn't been himself- but she had kept being on edge around him. And besides, even if she wasn't considering that he had bankrupted her and that, by going after Ulysses in a foreign nation, he had caused Karnack to bring their home down, there was still the fact that now he had decided that he needed to find his real family- like she and Arno weren't really his family, like she wasn't his sister. Chris too had been adopted, and yet she had never thought of Tony of not being her real family, and it was hard to accept that it was different for him.

Sighing, Chris stood, and prepared something for their "guests"; she guessed that she was going to have to deal with a lot of small talk, and maybe… well, if the guys wanted to do the meet and greet, they were going to need a guide. Someone from this world and this time. Someone who, like them had felt way too often like a fish out of water.

Who knew. Maybe it was going to be fun…