Claire sat on the worn old sofa, arms looped around her shins, while her chin rested upon her knees, her teeth absently digging into her lower lip as she thought over what to do next. She had already unpacked what remained of her whittled down possessions, though even those efforts were not quite enough to make the small apartment seem more like a home. She knew, on some level, that she really shouldn't even bother. That she should be devoting her attention, instead, to the prospect of her first day at a new job that was only a few mere hours away. But no matter how hard she tried, Claire was unable to completely distract herself from the loneliness that the barren little apartment brought to the forefront of her mind, a low groan escaping as she ran both hands across her face, before unfolding herself from the couch and padding into the kitchen to grab a drink.

Degree or no degree, sometimes alcohol was the best medicine she could find.

Leaning up on tiptoe to reach for the bottle of vodka she had placed in the cabinet above the stove, Claire pulled it down and then turned to rummage through the box of glasses she had left on the countertop nearby. Once she had secured the one she sought-the one she could recall her father always using at the end of a long day-Claire poured it nearly to the brim with whiskey, and took a few steadying sips not long thereafter, her expression crumpling into a wince as the liquid burned its way down her throat, and she padded back towards the battered old sofa once again to resume her seat.

Just as she had been prepared to reach for the remote placed upon the end table nearest to her current perch, however, Claire felt the sudden buzz of her cell phone from its location in her jeans pocket, her brow furrowing as she withdrew the device and frowned as soon as she saw the name flickering across the screen. She knew she could not avoid the man forever, of course, particularly as she would likely be working in rather close quarters with him in less than twenty-four hours. And although a part of her was still half-tempted to simply ignore the call altogether, Claire resisted, knowing full-well that if she attempted to evade the inevitable, the call would only continue to repeat itself until she finally gave in.

"Yeah."

"Wow. What a greeting," The familiar, deep voice of her cousin quipped, amusement heavy in his tone as Claire managed a roll of the eyes despite the fact she knew he could not see her at all, "Nice to know you missed me."

"Maybe I didn't."

"Bull."

"Glad to see you're still far too confident for your own good," Claire retorted, a laugh breaking free almost immediately, even in spite of the lingering nerves that had rendered her initial receipt of the call less than jovial, "Some things never change."

"You know it. What are you up to?"

"Unpacking."

"Still? How much shit do you even have?"

"Low blow, Brock. Low blow."

"C'mon, Claire, you know I'm just messing around-"

"I know. I do."

"Then why don't you let me swing by and take you out for a drink or two? It's been a while," Brock suggested, the apparent concern in the offer causing Claire to frown, despite knowing he only meant well, "Might get your mind off things for a bit."

"Exactly how much alcohol are you planning on buying me?" Claire asked, another laugh escaping, though this one was significantly less convincing than the one before it had been. A part of her hated this. This distance that she had purposefully placed between herself, and a man that was more like a brother than anything she had ever known, who made it his personal mission to keep her accountable for her own happiness despite whatever costs it may entail. But no matter how much a part of her that was still the same little girl that used to tag along after him wherever he went wanted to give in to the comfort and companionship he was offering, Claire could not entirely convince herself to commit, even when she became aware of the obvious sincerity that was so inherent in his reply.

"Enough to get you out of your own head, and back to the world for a change."

"Brock, you know I can't-"

"No, Claire, I know you can. You lost a patient. And that sucks."

"It kind of does more than just suck, Brock-"

"I know. But you've got to get up, dust yourself off, and get back at it, or you'll never move on. You know that."

"Has anyone ever told you that you sound a hell of a lot like your old man?" Claire said, aware of the soft sound of raspy laughter that came in response to her remark, and finally finding herself capable of managing a faint smile as she took another sip of the vodka in her father's glass, before placing it back upon the end table in favor of leaning forward so that she could hold her head with that hand, instead, "You really think this is a good idea?"

"I always think getting drinks is a good idea."

"No, not that. The-the other thing."

"The job?"

"Yeah."

"Fury wouldn't have offered if he didn't think you could cut it," Brock assured, obviously aware of Claire's disbelieving scoff, though that did not stall him from persisting in his chosen course of conversation, regardless, "He knows what happened, Claire. He knows it wasn't your fault."

"And if I'm not ready? If I get into this, and I just end up making it worse? What then?" Claire demanded, hating how her voice cracked around the words, though for her cousin's part, he acted as though he had not noticed it at all.

"You're not gonna make it worse. You're gonna kick ass. Now let me take you out for drinks."

"I take it I really don't have a choice in the matter?"

"Not at all. You don't answer the door, I'll just break the damned thing down," Brock confirmed, something in the way he said the words taking Claire back to a childhood memory of being sequestered behind the closed door of the spare bedroom in her aunt and uncle's house, tear-tracks staining her cheeks while a younger Brock stood, steadfast, outside the door demanding to be let in. He had nearly broken the door down, then, determined to make sure she knew she was not alone, no matter the gaping hole her parents' deaths had left in her heart and mind. And in spite of herself, Claire found herself suddenly ready to agree to her cousin's offer, regardless of whatever misgivings she may possess, her eyes closing as she reached for the glass of vodka once again, and exhaled before giving Brock the reply he seemed to desire so clearly.

"Fine. But if I end up hungover on my first day at a new job, I'll kick your ass."

"Trust me, Claire, I wouldn't have it any other way. I'll be there in ten."

"See you soon."

As she downed the last of the vodka, and placed the glass back on the kitchen counter, Claire spared one final glance around the nearly bare interior of her apartment, her shoulders squared in some sort of attempt at determination as she padded back towards her bedroom, and set herself to the task of selecting a more appropriate outfit for the night ahead.

Whether she truly wanted to face the world, or not, she knew she could not do it in ratty sweatpants and a faded t-shirt that had obviously seen better days.

Clearly, the stupid t-shirt didn't have the market cornered on that particular score...

…

Helloooooo my dears! And welcome to another crazy little concoction that I cooked up after spending significant amounts of time rewatching pretty much every single Marvel film I can get my hands on (thanks, Disney Plus, lol). I hope none of you mind my apparent descent into insanity, because I just couldn't seem to pass up the idea for this little guy, no matter how hard I tried. What I'm planning, at least as of right now, is to start everything out just prior to the beginning of The Avengers, and then take Claire and everyone else through until the finish line in End Game. Hopefully some of you are along for the ride? (I mean it's more fun when I'm not the only one rattling around in the plot cave, right? ;) )

As always, I offer my heartfelt thanks to those of you who have already decided to give this little guy a chance! Hopefully you enjoy what you've found so far, and of course I cannot wait to hear your thoughts!

Until next time, dear ones…

MOMM