Jessica was late coming home, and when she went to hang her jacket on the coatrack near her door, it missed the hook altogether and fell to the floor. She left it there, and kept on walking to her couch, where she collapsed.

She'd just been out to coffee with Bobbi—she'd been in town lately, and they hadn't seen each other in a while, so they'd been catching up—when a couple of small-time thugs decided to take a diner across the street hostage. A quick-change later, and they were over there, talking the people down. Or rather, Jessica was talking them down with the help of her pheromones while Bobbi ushered the hostages out of the back door of the restaurant. They then had stayed there with the robbers, after returning the money they'd taken to the manager of the restaurant, until the police showed up to take them away.

Then, they'd been mobbed by the people they'd just saved, who had wanted to not only thank them but talk to them about their heroics. Being an Avenger gets you some fans, and for most of the people there, this was the most exciting thing that had happened to them in their entire life. One younger boy expressed that he'd wished they'd beaten up the bad guys, because that would be cooler. Bobbi had told him that was an easy way to get yourself beaten up, looking for fights. The boy took it from Mockingbird that fighting was wrong and then took a picture with the two heroes before running off to his mother, who was waiting for him at the door.

He had only been the first of a long line of people, fans and grateful hostages, who had stuck around just to see them, to thank them. They hadn't gotten away from them for a couple of hours, and neither had it in their heart to turn any of the grateful people away. They were all so unremittingly thankful for being saved and for their service as superheroes that neither Jessica nor Bobbi suggested that they leave until every one of the people had departed from the scene.

Of course, at that point, the police had finally gotten ahold of them, and they were taken in to give their statements about what happened. They did this, and as with all paperwork, it took much longer than Jess would have ever seen necessary (or possible). By the time they were all finished with all of that, both of them were just tired of the day. Being chipper and kind to that many people all at once was exhausting, since neither of them were particularly public people. Once the police were done with them, they simply went their own ways, each promising the other that they'd do this again soon, it was really fun.

Now, from her couch, Jessica realized how far she was going to have to move if she wanted to go to the bathroom, and she really had to. She also felt a gurgling in her stomach that indicated she also was very hungry, and just hadn't noticed until now. She reached up toward her kitchen and then let her arm fall to the ground. What she'd do for spider-telepathy at the current moment was a long and exhaustive list, at least until she realized that the things she'd do to not do anything were also things she'd have to do, and decided that she could just get up and go get the food herself.

She sighed as she did, and stumbled to the kitchen. There was nothing in the fridge but a couple of beers and a half a stick of butter. She'd meant to get groceries after she met up with Bobbi, but she'd forgotten, what with everything else that went on that afternoon. She went to the cabinets instead, opening and closing a few of them before she got to the one she kept her dry foods in. There was an empty Cheerios box, which she tossed down into the recycling—Why did I even keep that, anyway? she thought—and a box of crackers that was way past its expiration date. She threw that into the trash as well, and stuck her hand up onto the shelf to feel around, see if there was anything else up there.

There was no food up there. Just some dust, and a piece of paper. Jess grasped it, realizing that it wasn't just a piece of a wrapper or something as she picked it up. Pulling it down from the shelf, she could see that it was a photo. It wasn't a printout from a computer or something; it was an actual photograph, taken with a polaroid camera. She squinted to see the people in the picture.

It contained a few different people, and Jess was surprised to see she recognized some of them. There was Erin, and Kimberly, and a few other people from the building. They were all familiar faces, but there was one whose face she didn't recognize. He was a shorter man with a rounded nose and a bit of a belly, and he was grinning with a wide set of teeth with the rest of the residents in the building.

She didn't need to rely on her old private investigating skills to realize that the man in the picture was the former resident of her apartment. He was the one who was killed, because of that damn mafia that Clint kept running into…

She put the picture down on the table and walked back to the couch, where she slumped down. She felt a wave of guilt come over her, like she was trying to squeeze into someone else's place. This wasn't her apartment, it was that man's, and she was nothing but an imposter, trying to fit the hole, trying to fit where he belonged. In that photo, he was so happy to be with the other people. What did she think she was doing, trying to replace him? She hated the self-pity, but she didn't do anything to stop it from rolling over her. She squeezed her eyes shut, running her fingers through her hair, back from her hairline. She exhaled as she did, and heard a crash from the direction of Clint's apartment.

She leapt to her feet and nearly sprinted to the door in a moment of impulsive, habitual behavior. She made sure to grab her jacket on her way out of the door—it was her costume now, after all—and was pulling on the second sleeve as she came down the hall to see Clint's door burst open, whacking against the wall in the hallway. Following the door quickly was Clint himself, barely bothering to shut the door behind him. He swung it back around in a half-thought slam, and then found himself face-to-face with Jessica.

"Jesus Christ, Jess, you scared me."

"Sorry," said Jessica. She looked behind him at the door, and then back. "What's going on here?"

"Nothing," said Clint. He began to push past her, but she stepped to get in his way, blocking the hall. He stepped backward, resuming his past position.

"What's going on?"

"I just need to go right now, Jess, I'll talk to you later about this…"

"I can help you, whatever it is, Clint, just let me know…"

"No, God damn it, let me go!" He pushed her back, this time with all of his strength. She let herself be moved, and he walked past her. After a few steps, he paused, took a breath, and looked back to her. "You know, I'm sorry, I am angry, and there's no reason for me to—just—you know, this kind of pushiness is the reason we broke up."

Jessica was taken aback before she could even muster any anger in response to that. "What—no, I…" Then, she was able to compose herself, and as he walked away, she shouted after him. "We broke up because you were fucking another woman!" He was already taking the stairs down two at a time, and even though she was shouting, there was the chance he was deliberately not hearing her. Jessica felt a tremble in her chest, followed by the warmth of anger, and for a moment, she just stood there and simmered, wondering whether or not she should kick her ex-boyfriend's ass. She had come to check on him, and he repaid her with nothing but a bad attitude.

She didn't storm after him, however, because she realized that she was still tried, and she didn't feel like picking a fight with Clint today, even if he was being an asshole. She was about to go back upstairs to her apartment to see if she could find some ramen in the back of a closet somewhere or something when she realized that Clint's door was still slightly ajar, not closed in his little tantrum. She went to close it but, her sense of curiosity getting the better of her, instead opened the door wider and stepped inside.

There was nothing to say that Clint's apartment was usually clean. In fact, it usually was quite the opposite of clean. But it was never deliberately dirty. His mess was due to clothes piling up, papers in a heap, Lucky tracking in dirt, that sort of thing. There was, however, a bit of a mess on this day, with some of the pillows on the couch turned over, the coffee table knocked on its side, and something smashed against the wall, a slight dent left behind. She took a step inside, and she found that most of the anger she still felt for Clint beginning to wash away. Sure, she was still pissed, but something was going on here, and she realized it wasn't just at her. It was something else, and he was just taking it out on her.

She righted the coffee table and threw a couple of the cushions back onto the couch. There was a coffee mug that had been on the table, and it had spilled across the rug. He was going to have to wash that, which meant finding a dry cleaner's nearby. Jess figured he didn't know where one of those was—he'd hardly have any cause to know. Not that she would know any better. Maybe Kate would. She put the mug back on the table and wiped the coffee that had gotten on her hands onto her pants. Then, she turned to the thing that had been smashed against the wall.

It was a framed photo, and someone had printed it out on fancy glossy photo paper, something she figured Clint hadn't done himself. She picked up the picture itself—the frame and glass had broken apart in collision with the wall—and took a look at it. Clint was in it, right in the middle, and the rest of the people in the picture were all residents of the building, gathered around on the rooftop, with the colors of a sunset across their faces. Lucky was there, too, by Clint's side, a goofy dog smile on his face, and with a hand on Lucky's happy dog head was the same man from the picture she had found in her cabinet upstairs. It was—damn it, what did they say his name was?—Grills. He was the man who had lived here.

Jess flattened out the few crumples in the photo as best as she could, and placed it on the kitchen counter. After a quick scan showing that she had done at least most of the cleanup, she left the apartment, closing the door behind her. She turned to face Erin, who must have been waiting out in the hall for her.

"Oh—um, hi, Erin…"

"He just stormed out?" asked Erin, glancing over Jess's shoulder to Clint's door.

"Oh, yeah…" said Jess. "He was really upset about something, and…"

"Don't get angry with him," said Erin. She rubbed the outside of her arm with her other hand. "Today's going to be rough for him, not matter what, so the best would be—I don't know—just keep an eye on him from afar."

"What is going on?"

"It's his birthday."

"It isn't Clint's birthday," said Jessica, after a quick mental check that she wasn't Sixteen Candles-ing him.

"No, it's Grills's birthday." Erin sighed. "It's his birthday, and when he died, we had just begun planning a surprise party. Bring all of his friends together for a rooftop barbecue, and stuff… We were going to rent a Margarator—that's a big blender thing to make a ton of margaritas—he would've loved it."

"But he died."

"But he was killed." She paused. "Clint blames himself for that, you know that, and so it's just—it's tough."

"I—oh."

"So just, keep an eye. Try to be kind."

"I—I will," said Jessica. Whatever anger she still had left in her at Clint had returned to her normal level of angry at him—which was less than she'd ever admit to herself. "Thanks, Erin." Erin nodded, and started to turn away, heading back to her own apartment. "Wait." Erin turned. "Are you okay?"

A grin came to Erin's face, which paired non-contrastingly with her sad eyes. "I'll be fine. Thanks, Jess. Really." She turned and walked away.

Jessica looked back at the door to Clint's apartment and sighed, feeling all of her tiredness come back to her, and started up toward her own apartment. Clint needed space, and that she could give him, but she was ready to help him, whenever he came back, because she knew what it was like to feel guilt over not being able to stop something terrible. She had been there, and he had been there for her. So, she thought as she finally dropped into her bed, I'll be there for him.

A/N: Sorry it's been so long since I've updated! I've not forgotten this fic, don't worry-I'm still here!