Spoiler alert for Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Avengers: Age of Ultron, Captain America: Civil War, Ant-Man, and Spiderman: Homecoming.
As always, many thanks go out to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta and Winter-Soldier-88 for the brainstorming.
To help those who are frustrated at the long times between updates, here's a bit of help:
What readers and non-writers think writing is: worldbuilding, churning out entire chapters in one sitting, metaphors, character building, finishing novels, flawless plotlines.
What writing actually is: random 1am thoughts, zoning out into fictional worlds, associating songs with characters, writer's block for weeks or months at a time, coming up with plot twists at the most inconvenient times, absolute certainty that you will remember the great idea you had without writing it down.
Namaste,
Sunny
"I will come back to you, I swear I will;
And you will know me still.
I shall be only a little taller
Than when I went."
― Edna St. Vincent Millay, The Harp-Weaver and Other Poems
Winter Soldier
And You Will Know Me Still
Chapter 90
"According to this, you and Darcy aren't related, Tony," Steve said with an apologetic tone. "What about the painting?" No one said anything, so he added what was on all their minds, "If you're not her biological father, who is?"
Several people quickly moved out of the way of someone moving purposefully through the crowd. he stopped, still looking at his phone as of he thought it was alive.."I am. But how..."
A gasp went around the room, those closest whispering to those who hadn't heard the news. Now, there was a gigantic a plot twist to the story.
Erik Selvig's fingers clenched his phone, eyes meeting each of theirs with an equally stunned expression. Eventually, he caught Darcy's puzzled gaze, and just as quickly looked away. "I-I… I don't know…" his head tilted to the side, thinking, while examining her face, "Tell me, child, what is your mother's name?"
With a nod of encouragement, Steve urged Darcy to stand with Erik. "Joni. Joni Lewis. Well, she was Joni Steinmetz when I was born. You know, before she married my step-father."
Steve nudged Darcy, mouthing photo. Darcy took Tony's phone and he let her. She tapped a few times then turned the screen so he could see the image of a dark haired woman holding an equally dark haired child.
Mouth open, Erik stared at the photo, one hand coming up to touch the screen, "Johanna." Suddenly noticing that all conversation had stopped, Erik cleared his throat and passed the phone back to Tony, his voice low, only reaching those closest, "The year before you were born, I was teaching theoretical physics at the Norwegian University of Science and Technology. Ì I was asked to take part in an exchange program with MIT for a semester." He rubbed a hand through his already unruly hair, making it stand on end. "It was at a small coffee shop near the campus that I met Joni," he smiled at the memory, "though I called her Johanna. I was a stranger in a strange land and she was kind enough to befriend me." Embarrassment colored Erik's cheeks, and Steve glared at hearing stifled snorts, warning them not to comment.
He leaned down to look into Darcy's face, and she smiled back, and he gave her hand a comforting squeeze. "We were only together the one time before I was called back to Trondheim when my father became ill. He passed shortly thereafter. But by then, my position at MIT had been filled by another. From Melbourne, if I remember correctly. It was some years before I took the position at Culver University where I first met Jane, and then you, Darcy."
~~O~~
Tony had so much to say about the shocking and unwelcome revelation that someone else was Darcy's father, but the facts were undeniable. DNA didn't lie. Before Darcy took his phone, he'd done a quick and dirty search and discovered that the "close relative" he'd been informed wanted to meet was in actuality a cousin three or four times removed. Probably hoping for a big payday. Legal can do a fast and furious wire transfer, with the proviso they never make contact again.
Though Tony was as certain as he could be, given that he hadn't done the tests himself, that Darcy was not related to him, he still felt the need to posture. "How's it possible? Darcy was born nine months to the day after the last time Joni and I were together."
~~O~~
Darcy's eyebrows peeked over the rims of her glasses. "Some geniuses you are, guys." She jutted her chin in the air, "Did anyone happen to notice the part in my background check where I was three weeks late?"
Huffing, Tony shoved his phone and his hands into his pants pockets, conceding, "That would do it. I had spent the month prior buried in research."
Darcy could see how disappointed Tony was. They all could, though he wasn't one to let something like not being someone's dad get him down for long. He clapped to get everyone's attention. "Let's hear some music."
Tony led them over to the giant plasma screen where Sting and his band were tuning up, standing on the dais in front of the screen so that all eyes were on him. "This is now officially an engagement party for the love of my life, Pepper, and myself. Time to kick it into high gear. Who's with me?"
The crowd cheered and whistled, and Tony gave the floor to Sting and his band.
~~O~~
Despite her head still reeling from the news that Tony wasn't her biological father and Erik was, Darcy was enjoying herself. Tony didn't treat her any differently. Despite his insistence that she keep them, she planned on returning the few small gifts he'd given her, if you call the key to a 4k square foot penthouse apartment and a hot off the assembly line luxury sports car small. The teddy bear would go back too, especially as she saw it as a symbol of a parent-child bond that never existed.
How Erik treated her going forward was up for debate.
Taking a sip of her drink to disguise that she was scanning the room, Darcy eventually located Erik out on the balcony, leaning on the railing, occasionally taking a drink from the glass balanced next to him. Knowing how awkward work would be now, they needed to talk before they returned to the lab on Monday. The set of his shoulders was giving off "leave me alone while I process this new and weird data" vibes, so she tuned back into the conversation. As usual, Tony was dominating the floor.
"…and then there was the time I was banned from Barnes & Noble."
Startled, Darcy's eyebrows drew together over her nose. "How does anyone get kicked out of a bookstore?"
Tony swirled the last bit of liquid in his glass, a chuckle of embarrassment coloring his words, "That's, uh, that's actually a funny story."
Grinning, Pepper nudged Tony's shoulder, continuing when he didn't, "He moved all the bibles to the fiction section." Everyone laughed, even Steve. Pepper rested the wrist of the hand holding her wine glass on one knee, "He had Happy drive him to every Barnes & Noble in Manhattan and New York City. As a result, he was banned from all Barnes & Noble's worldwide."
"Not to mention the paparazzi followed my every move, pushing and shoving paying customers out of the way."
"How, um, why did you stop?" Darcy asked for the group.
"Someone, not saying who," Tony gave Happy a glare that had an element of affection and continued, "told Mom what was going on. She called the limo phone as we were crossing over RFK to tear me and Happy a new one." He stuck a finger in one ear and wiggled it. "My ears are still ringing."
"And as we all know, any request from Maria Stark is considered an order, so upon reaching Queens, I made a U-turn and headed back to Manhattan like my backside was on fire," Happy told them, chuckling in remembrance.
To which Tony added in a stage whisper, "It was, 'cause Momma Stark don't play."
Darcy was keeping it all together until Steve whispered in her ear, "I will remember this as the very instance in which I gazed upon my fellow man," he nodded at Tony, "and wept, for he is stupid."
The myriad of emotions moving and roiling inside her crashed into each other. It started as a barely contained snort that turned into a chuckle, gathering speed until she was laughing out loud. She kept laughing after everyone else had stopped. Tears welled up, leaving wet trails on her cheeks. The laughter turned into sobbing, and Darcy hardly noticed Steve taking her glass and leading her from the room.
Over Greenwich, CT
"Three minutes, Peter."
Karen's soothing voice coming through the earwig and Peter's arms around her were all that kept Felicia from panicking as they crossed over the East River hanging from the struts of a helicopter.
Instead of basking in the glow of being finished with high school and heading off to college in a couple of months, she was on her way to Connecticut with her boyfriend.
When she brought up having Cat and Spidey teach Bainbridge and his friends a lesson about respect and common courtesy, Peter had been way too enthusiastic. Talking him out of going that night had taken all her persuasive powers and then some. She won the argument by pointing out the fact that waiting awhile would lull them into a false sense of security. Now that finals were over and done, along with graduation, it was time.
"Thirty seconds."
Peter adjusted his grip and Felicia tightened her arms around his neck. "Somewhere soft close to the target, please, Karen."
"Of course. Coming up on your left in three… two… one…"
Uncertain what would happen next, Felicia wrapped her legs around Peter's waist and clenched her jaws to keep from screaming when he let go of the web strand and they fell toward the earth.
~~O~~
Peter landed in the micropark without stumbling, despite Felicia's death grip on his neck and her knees digging into his sides. He reached behind to unhook her ankles, urging her to let her feet touch the ground. When they did, her breathing slowed down, and her arms relaxed, hands resting on his shoulders.
Their eyes met, she inhaled and gave him a shove. "Next time, we're borrowing your aunt's car."
"Don't know how to drive," Peter reminded her.
Felicia brushed her hair out of her face, straightened her spine, and stuck her chin out. "No prob. I do."
Knowing she couldn't see, Peter rolled his eyes, thinking to himself, Now she tells me!
"Won't be a next time." The HUD displayed a map showing the way to their destination. Peter led the way, and soon they were in a tree watching Bainbridge holding court in the game room of an expensive and trendy café.
"How you wanna play this? Good cop, bad cop? Playful banter with an edge of seriousness? Break a few noses or bones?"
One foot dangling and the other on the branch where she was sitting with her back to the thick trunk, Felicia adjusted her gloves while scowling at Bainbridge who was leering at the female server. "Whatever we decide, first order is separating him from his goons."
"How do we do that?" The scowl turned to a smirk and a raised eyebrow on the side he could see. Peter would follow Felicia anywhere, but he didn't say so out loud. What he did say surprised him too. "Okay, theoretically, let's say we do this…"
"Okay."
"We give this guy and one or two of his buddies the beatdown and maybe they learn their lesson…"
Felicia nodded, finishing the thought, "…but it brings us down to his level."
Relieved they were thinking along the same lines, Peter touched her hand, "Right. So, back to Queens?" He stood when she did, a feeling of excitement in the air.
"Doesn't mean we can't scare him a little." She moved into place and motioned him to go first. "After you, Spidey."
Once they were both on the roof, Peter grabbed Felicia around the waist and pulled her close. "You have a devious mind."
She poked him in the ribs with a smile. "Hence the name Cat." He looked where she was pointing, seeing Benedict pacing inside, just off the roof patio, talking on the phone. "Follow my lead."
Rogue's Noshery and Game Room
New Canaan, CT
Angry at being ribbed by his pals for the dissing he'd endured at the hands of Phoebe, Freda, Felicia, Philberta, whatever her name was, Benedict Bainbridge IV let himself into the closed dining area that looked out onto the roof patio to make a call. It wasn't important, but it got him some much needed alone time. Being ****** with by friends was better than being alone with his own thoughts. Not that he wanted to be alone, that wasn't the point. He hated being on his own unless he was sleeping or studying. Staying home wasn't an option because his parents were out of town and the staff had the weekend off to attend family graduations.
"…I'll treat you right, babe. Promise… Her? She's nobody. You're the most important girl in my life, Linda… I mean Layla… Hello?" Benedict huffed in frustration. Layla didn't go to the same school. No one had posted a video online, so how did she know? He scrolled his contacts and hit dial. What's her name? Something old-fashioned. Nora, I think. "Hey, Nora. Ben. We met at… yeah. That's me… Just calling to see if you're free tomorrow night… You are? Cool!" Movement on the patio caught his attention, momentarily distracting him from the conversation. "Huh? Oh, sorry." He moved closer to the floor to ceiling windows, peering into the dark. "This is gonna sound nuts, but I thought I just saw…" Dual shadows crept across the patio, one of which reminded him of a banshee his former nanny had told him about, long white hair flowing in the breeze. "Lemme call you back. I gotta check this out… Probably one of my posse punking me… Later, Babe."
Benedict shoved the phone into his back pocket as he slowly approached the windows. Standing so close his breath left spots of condensation, he cupped his hands around his eyes, not seeing anything out of place. Tables with chairs upended on them, umbrellas stacked in the corner, the drink counter off to the left, and a trashcan that moved.
"What the ****?" He tried the door, but it was locked. Eyes glued to the now not moving trashcan, Benedict watched and waited, believing he'd been seeing things. After a few tense moments, he relaxed and turned away, headed for the game room where he'd no doubt have to endure more ribbing. Better than being here in the dark where it felt like he's being watched.
As he reached the middle of the room, the creak of a door opening followed by a breeze stopped him in his tracks. Fearing what he might see, Benedict slowly turned around, and two figures were standing just inside the open patio door. One was obviously Spider-Man. He'd seen the videos posted to YouTube and thought they all looked fake. Yet, here he was standing right in front of him, big as life. And beside him, fists on hips, stood a woman in a black skintight suit, gloves, boots, and mask, white hair moving with the wind, and she did not look happy.
Benedict pulled out his phone, intent on calling the police. However, he didn't get the chance. Spider-Man extended his arm, bent at the wrist. Thwip! Webbing now covered his hand and phone, preventing him from making the call.
Without a word, Spider-Man pointed at himself and his female companion, at his eyes, then at Benedict, the sign that they would both be keeping a sharp eye on him. The woman drew a finger across her throat. Also obvious.
What little courage Benedict had was consumed by the sudden influx of adrenaline. He broke and ran, yanking the door open and tripping down the first flight of stairs leading back to the game room. He picked himself up, tossing a glance over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't being followed, slammed, and locked the door behind him.
~~O~~
Watching Benedict run like a frightened rabbit, Peter and Felicia looked at each other and grinned that they'd put the fear of costumed superheroes into the guy without saying a word or laying so much as a finger on him.
~~O~~
Benedict fumbled with the doorknob while shooting looks over his shoulder, sure that Spider-Man and his companion were about to spring a trap. He looked down at his hand, it and the phone were still covered in webbing.
The door was opened from the other side by his friend Rafe. "What the **** is taking so long? It's your round, bro."
Taking a deep breath, Benedict managed to bring his racing heart and breathing somewhat under control. "Rafe, y-you are not gonna believe this, but I-I just saw that spider guy, the one from Queens, upstairs. He and some chick in black threatened me! See?" He held up his hand, but the webbing had dissolved.
Rafe snorted and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Right. And the Black Widow and Hawkeye are downstairs waiting to escort you home." He rolled his eyes, closed, and locked the door, and poked him in the back to keep him walking. "Let's get back to the game."
Avengers Compound
Upstate New York
Saturday Night
The door closed behind Steve and Darcy and the lights automatically came on bathing the room in a soft glow that, under less emotional circumstances, would be considered romantic. However, the events so far didn't quite lend themselves to an atmosphere of passion. He didn't have to be a genius to see that the dam had finally broken on Darcy's emotions. Even the strongest dam had a breaking point.
It also didn't have anything to do with not being related to Tony or that her friend and boss had been publicly revealed as her biological father. That was just the final nail in her emotional coffin, so to speak.
Taking a seat next to Darcy on the sofa, Steve gave her a box of tissues, draped an arm around her shoulders, and pulled her close to his side. She sniffled a few times, wiped her eyes, blew her nose with her patented honk that sounded like a goose, and sighed. "What a plot twist, huh?"
Smiling, he rubbed his cheek on her hair. "Not really. Saw something similar in one of those cheesy romantic comedies Wanda likes to watch." To his great relief, Darcy laughed.
"It just, you know, kind of hit me all at once. Mom, Tony, Erik," a finger poked him in the chest, "you and me being more than friends."
Smiling with affection, Steve stood and held out his hand. "Ready to go back?"
The smile left her pretty face. "Not sure I can face everyone. Not after…"
"They're your friends, Darce. They'll understand." Still she hesitated, glancing at the door as if there were a horde of reporters lying in wait for her to emerge. "And if they don't, Nat will take care of 'em."
Darcy's phone pinged to let her know she had a message. Using her thumb, she scrolled through the message, huffing loudly. "Now they tell me."
She held the phone so Steve could see an email from the DNA lab. In essence, it said their system had a glitch that made a colossal mistake when sending the emails and they were so, so sorry for any inconvenience it may have caused.
Some, if not all of her humor restored, Darcy took the offered hand, keeping hold as they left Steve's apartment and returned to the party where Sting was again taking the stage. This time with Tony.
~~O~~
Sam, prodded by Tony, got the attention of the party-goers. "And now, ladies, gentlemen, and others, for your," he smirked, "dubious listening pleasure, let's give a big round of applause to Tony Stark and Sting!"
The room quieted down when Tony took his place front and center, snapping his fingers to the beat while Sting and the band riffed. "Despite the events thus far tonight, the good and the not so good, I promise," he winked and grinned, "there's no hidden meaning to the lyrics."
How can you say that you're not responsible?
What does it have to do with me?
What is my reaction, what should it be?
Confronted by this latest atrocity
Driven to tears
Driven to tears
Driven to tears
Hide my face in my hands
Shame wells in my throat
My comfortable existence
Is reduced to a shallow meaningless party
Seems that when some innocent die
All we can offer them is a page in some magazine
Too many cameras and not enough food
This is what we've seen
Driven to tears
Driven to tears
Driven to tears
~~O~~
Tapping his foot to the music, Steve noticed movement in the crowd, Erik making his way to the lifts, gaze on the floor in front of him, not wanting his eyes to show the toll tonight had taken on his somewhat fragile emotional state. After his stay in the mental health facility, there was no way to know what this new element would do to him.
He didn't bother to point out Erik's escape. Darcy and Tony's eyes followed Erik's trek through the crowd, Tony's without missing a beat in his duet with Sting.
Darcy's Apartment
Upstate New York
At Darcy's apartment, Steve stood next to his car, waiting in case she changed her mind regarding his offer of emotional comfort by his presence, though her terse, "I need to be alone," made it pretty clear that she preferred her own company at the moment. That, and the lack of good night kiss or even a hug spoke volumes. Still, he would keep himself available at a moment's notice, in case he got a tearful late night call.
He got in, started the engine, and while he was deciding if he should press the issue, the lights in Darcy's apartment went out. Shifting into gear, Steve pulled out of the parking lot headed back to the compound.
The Parker Apartment
Queens, New York
More than one question plagued May's mind regarding the young woman Peter was spending so much time with during and after school. This was especially true after finding that photo of them making out in Peter's room the night of the dance. Felicia seemed to come and go from her foster home at will, staying out late without repercussions for breaking curfew.
May took out her embroidery, tugged free the needle stuck into the material at the edge of the frame, and went back to work on the design she was making as a gift for one of her co-workers who was having a baby. When she needed to think out a problem or issue, embroidering used only enough of her brain capacity that it left rest to do the pondering.
When this part of the design was done, May had an answer, or rather more questions about Felicia than before she started. Setting the frame aside, she picked up her phone, scrolled her contact list, and dialed. "Dorothy? Hi, it's May Parker… Yes, it has been a while… No, everything's going great. Peter's a sophomore now… Way too fast. The reason I'm calling is I need a favor… Off the books, if you can… I need the name of the foster family for Felicia Hardy… Oh, almost eighteen, I think… She and Peter are dating… No, nothing like that. I'm just concerned she isn't being taken care of…" May sagged in relief. "I appreciate it, Dorothy… My work email please. Don't want Peter to know I'm checking up on his girl… Thanks. We should have lunch one day next week to catch up."
Somewhat reassured by her friend's willingness to help without asking too many questions and feeling a little guilty for her suspicions, May went back to her needlepoint.
Budapest, Hungary
Though it was full daylight, Zsofia made yet another check that the doors and windows were locked and the alarm engaged. Nothing had changed in the thirty minutes since she'd last performed this service. At least once a day, she would scan her entire home for listening devices, cameras, and so forth using the most advanced counter surveillance equipment she could get her hands on.
Nothing had ever been found. Not once. Yet she couldn't shake the feeling she was being watched. When she went out, which she didn't do as often as she'd done prior to their encounter with the Winter Soldier, she was certain she was being followed. Every time the phone rang, she just knew her calls were being monitored.
On those occasions when staying home wasn't an option, Zsofia had István, Bence, or Elizabet follow at a discreet distance to keep watch in case someone was shadowing her. The only person she could think of who might do such a thing was the Winter Soldier, but none of them had seen evidence that the man was still in the area. Why then did her instincts go active the moment she left the sanctuary of her home, and sometimes within it?
Satisfied that she was as safe as she could be under the circumstances, Zsofia set about putting her home in order. To most, the current state would be considered exceptional, but for her, everything had a place and must always be there. Dirty clothes went into the hamper, clean clothes were hung up, folded, and put away immediately out of the dryer. There was seldom as much as a speck of dust or the tiniest piece of paper on the floor or tables. The curtains and carpeting were professionally cleaned every three months, though the service people told her it wasn't necessary and would fade them too quickly.
Zsofia covered her hair with a scarf, pulled on latex gloves, placed a mask over her nose and mouth, picked up her supplies, and went into the bathroom to clean.
Sometime Later
The phone rang, annoying Zsofia. She removed the glove from her right hand and the mask to answer it, not hiding her irritation, "Igen?" The line was open, but there was no response. "Is someone there?"
I always feel like somebody's watching me
And I have no privacy (oh, oh)
I always feel like somebody's watching me
Who's playing tricks on me?
At the second time through the chorus, Zsofia recognized the song from out of the US sometime in the mid-eighties. She'd confiscated a pirated copy of this and many other banned American songs and had listened to them in the soundproof panic room of her former home in Romania, where no one would hear. Upon arriving in Budapest in January of 1990, she thought to build another here, but hadn't. In Budapest, most American music was played daily over the radio, but Zsofia couldn't deal with music she couldn't control. Some even listened on a streaming app, and she was doing the same.
She hung up the phone, standing in the bathroom doorway looking at the dark screen, nearly dropping it when it rang again. Her thumb hovered over the answer icon, scoffed, thinking what an unattractive emotion paranoia was. She answered, holding the phone to her ear without speaking, and again, that same song played.
This time, Zsofia didn't hear it out. She ended the call and shut off the phone, putting an end to whatever games the other person was playing. It had to be one of her friends. Over the days, they'd had many discussions on what the Winter Soldier might do to them, even though he'd let them go without giving them more than a bit of a fright. And that puzzled her more than a little. Why would a ruthless assassin let them go? Though the subject had been dissected repeatedly, they hadn't come to a conclusion.
Putting it all out of her mind, Zsofia gathered up her cleaning supplies and moved on to the guest bedroom.
The Next Morning
Zsofia shut off the alarm and sat up on the side of the bed, letting her body settle into the new position for a moment before putting on her robe and shuffling into the bathroom.
She came out a few minutes later, picked up her phone, and made her way to the kitchen while it powered up. With the coffee set to brew, she checked for messages, stunned to find there were over one hundred missed calls and an almost equal number of voice and text messages.
With an idea of what the messages would say, Zsofia listened to the first, and was correct. It was more of the song from yesterday, the same few lines over and over. In order to delete the messages, she would have to listen to at least the first few notes, but that could wait. She would play one for the others once she'd eliminated them as suspects.
The coffee maker gurgled through the end of the cycle. Zsofia poured some in a cup and went to prepare breakfast.
The Barton Farm
The last of the dishes were dried and put away. Natasha hung the towel to dry, switched out the lights, all but the one over the sink, and grabbed herself another beer. Holding the cap between her thumb and middle finger, she flicked it the way Clint had taught her. It flew through the air, curving to the right, and landed in the recycle bin. She grinned and brought the bottle to her mouth for a long drink.
"Aunt Nat?" Lila stood in the doorway holding a tablet.
"What's up, moya lyubov?" She followed the girl into the living room, the two of them taking seats side by side on the sofa.
Lila held the tablet so Natasha could see. On the screen was the website for a ballet studio more than a state away. One way, the drive would take, minimum, six hours by car. Five, if Clint or she drove. "Before I ask Mom and Dad, I want your opinion on which ballet school is the best."
"These schools are more advanced than you're ready for, Lila, but let's have a look anyway."
Taking the tablet, Natasha skimmed the "about us" section before moving onto the next school's site. Most were well known to balletomanes. The cost to attend any of them, provided a student passed the rigorous vetting process, was more than Clint and Laura could afford, even if he still had his SHIELD salary. She scrolled to the next site, the one for Evolve. It was strange that it hadn't been taken down yet. Homeland Security should have taken care of it the next day. Guess it's up to me.
Natasha powered down the tablet, looking up as Clint and Laura came into the room. She caught their eyes with hers, sending a silent signal.
Pasting on a smile, Clint said, "Lila, honey, I need to talk to Aunt Nat for a sec. That okay with you?"
To distract the child, Laura accepted the tablet and took Natasha's place next to her daughter. "What've you got here, baby?"
"Mo-om! Stop callin' me that!"
"You'll always be my baby, even when you have your own." Laura powered up the tablet and draped an arm around Lila's shoulders. "Let's see what you've been up to…"
~~O~~
Just in case any of the kids were listening, Clint and Natasha conversed in Russian.
"Did you know about this, Clint? That Lila wanted to take ballet?"
He rubbed the back of his head, pacing in the confined space of the work room. "She said something about taking up a new hobby, but I thought she meant something else. Never showed an interest in archery. Though, now that I think about it, Laura might've discouraged her from asking, what with the Battle of New York, Ultron, and all that other shit we've been into."
Crossing her arms, Natasha smacked him upside the head with her death glare. "You're not seriously considering letting her take ballet, are you?"
Clint snorted humorlessly, "After what happened to you in the Red Room and with Dinah, no ******* way." He opened the door a crack, listening to Laura and Lila talking softly about the merits of each ballet school the girl was showing her. "Laura should be a part of this conversation."
"Agreed. But someone had to distract Lila." Getting to her feet, Natasha joined him at the window, watching the horses running around in the corral. "Archery it is."
Turning around, Natasha leaned against the windowsill, arms still crossed, but the glare had softened. "If she's anything like you, she'll do great things with her ability."
Clint inhaled deep, letting it out on a heartfelt sigh. "What if she takes the same road I did before…"
"Then you and Laura will have to accept that it's her choice to make, just as it was yours." He looked down at Natasha and she smiled and he was comforted by it. "You're a great dad, Clint, and Lila's a good girl. She won't get into the same bad situations as you, but you have to trust her to make her own decisions. Well, once she's an adult. Until then, you and Laura provide guidance and when it's necessary, advice."
Hooking an arm around Natasha's neck, Clint pulled her close to plant a quick kiss on her forehead. "You always know the right thing to say, moy drug."
"It's a gift… and a curse." They looked at each other and broke into laughter.
Clint opened the door and followed Natasha out, shooting Laura a look, communicating without speaking.
She gave a short nod. "You and Dad are going into town tomorrow."
The girl jumped off the sofa, vibrating with excitement, seeming to have forgotten everything she and her mother had been discussing. "Where we goin'?"
"To get you a bow."
TBC
"Driven to Tears" is a song written by Sting and first released by The Police on their 1980 album Zenyatta Mondatta.
"Somebody's Watching Me" is a song recorded by American singer Rockwell, released by the Motown label in 1984, as the lead single from his debut studio album of the same name.