because we haven't had a chance to jump in with Nathaniel Barton yet.

"Hey, Uncle Nate?"

Nathaniel looks down at his niece, all of five years old and the spitting image of his sister with her big brown eyes, long eyelashes, and toothy grin, and raises his eyebrows as he hums a reply. "Mmhmm?"

"Can you tell me a story?" she asks with those wide, pleading eyes that only kittens, puppies, and young children seem to possess.

"I already read you your bedtime story, and an extra one too," he reminds her, tucking the blankets around her a little more securely. She'd driven a hard bargain before the bedtime routine had begun that evening, and Nathaniel had been forced to hide his pride at her efforts. "You're a little extortion artist, you know that?"

She grins even though she has no idea what he means. "Yeah, but I wanna hear a story that's not from a book."

"Oh yeah? That's not what we agreed to before you brushed your teeth, Nattie," he replies before patting the blankets by her feet and inviting the dogs up. They usually slept in his room, but whenever his niece visited, he was abandoned as old news immediately when she walked through the door. If he's honest, he doesn't even blame them because she indulges them with far more cuddles than he does.

His niece grins impishly at him. "I wanna hear about your Aunt Natasha."

Nathaniel feels the smile flit across his lips at the unexpected request, even as a quiet voice from the depths of his mind whispers that he doesn't know enough about Natasha to tell her much. He'd been just a kid when she died, and circumstances back then had meant she hadn't been around as much as she had been when his siblings were his age. Sure, his parents and Lila and Coop had kept her memory alive over the years through stories and answering his hesitant questions on the rare occasions he mustered enough courage to ask about her, but he has almost no first-hand recollections of her.

He's watched over the years as they'd all, each in their own way, come to terms with the loss eventually. Occasionally — even recently — he spots tiny tinges of melancholy creep into their expressions when she comes up in conversation. Still, he knows it isn't the kind of grief that claws savagely at you, leaving you unbalanced and unsure of where to defend. It's temporary, like a curtain closing abruptly for the briefest moment before being thrown open and letting the light in again. But soon, the night comes around again, and that familiar dull ache settles in for a little while before it ebbs away eventually.

Over the years, he's wondered on more than one occasion if it's possible to grieve someone you never really knew. Can you mourn someone based solely on second-hand memories? On lost potential time with them? On the kind of person that they might've been to you?

He looks down at Nattie again and wonders if she's asking about Natasha because of the weight of being her namesake. It had brought him a different set of emotions than the grief his siblings had shouldered. She tilts her head, and he realizes he hasn't answered her yet.

"Alright," he concedes with a dramatic sigh, making her giggle, "just one story though," he bargains.

Nattie's grin widens even further before she snuggles deeper under her blankets, pulling them up under her nose.

"So," Nathaniel begins, "what kind of story?"

Nattie pulls down the blankets to uncover her mouth briefly. "I dunno. I didn't know her. Something cool."

Nathaniel furrows his brow and nods, wondering idly what his Aunt Nat would have made of her second namesake. "Well, there was this time she taught your Uncle Coop some wrestling moves," he begins and then quickly realizes it probably wasn't the best choice of story, considering he'd gotten in trouble for using one of those moves on a classmate of his that had bullied another kid. (Lila had told him years later that Aunt Nat secretly gave Cooper a fist bump when she heard before reiterating their parents' points that jumping to violence wasn't the best tactic.)

Nattie, blessedly, comes to his rescue as she shakes her head and declares, "That's boring."

He chuckles. "Okay… How about the time she took your mom, uncle, and me camping?" While he didn't remember the trip, he figured that he'd heard the stories enough times to retell them with a high degree of accuracy.

Nattie wrinkles her nose. "I don't like camping."

He rolls his eyes and tilts his head in exasperation, playing up the dramatics again and eliciting more giggles from his niece. "You gotta give me something to go on here, Nattie." She bites her lip as she thinks, and Nathaniel is struck again by how much she looks like her mother. "Or how about you ask questions? Hmm? Does that work?" Nattie nods enthusiastically, and he immediately realizes he has to set a firm boundary, or he'll be answering questions for hours. "You get five questions," he says while holding up a hand and wiggling his fingers to emphasize the point.

Nattie's brow furrows as she concentrates. "Was she funny?" she asks finally, and Nathaniel can't help but smile at the choice of question. Ah, the logic of five-year-olds, he thinks.

"Oh yeah," he confirms. "Very funny. She teased your grandpa all the time. Me, your mom, and your Uncle Coop, too. But she hated your grandpa's jokes. You know the ones that make us all groan?" Nattie nods vigorously, and he's not surprised. Clint Barton's dad jokes were legendary. "She hated those."

His niece giggles again, and he puts down one finger.

In the blink of an eye, her expression shifts from joy to pensive as she ponders her second question. "Was she brave like Grandpa?" Nattie asks, tone a little tentative like she isn't sure if she should be asking the question.

Nathaniel offers a reassuring smile, though he can feel it tinged with sadness. He nods as he thinks of his Aunt Natasha's final act. She'd had people he knew she'd have wanted to return to — his family, yes, but some teammates who'd been Blipped too — but had still sacrificed herself for his dad. For everyone, really. "I'm sure if you ask your grandpa he'd say that she was braver than him. Your mom and Uncle Coop say she was the bravest person they've ever met."

Nattie's eyes widen. "Really?"

"Really, really," he agrees, putting down another finger.

"Why's my name Natasha like her?"

Nathaniel tilts his head, a bit surprised by the question. "You know why. Your mom's told you. I know she has."

"I get five questions," she reminds him, and he lets out a snort caught halfway between a chuckle and a scoff in amusement at her stubbornness.

"Well, your mom loved our Aunt Nat very, very much, and she wanted to keep her memory alive."

He figures the answer isn't quite what Nattie had been looking for, but it's as good an explanation as he can give her. Lila had told him once that putting aside the fact that she wanted to honour the woman who'd saved them all and had been such a big part of their lives, naming her daughter Natasha had just felt like the right thing to do.

"How did she die?"

He smiles sadly again, again surprised by her choice in question. He realizes he probably shouldn't be because Nattie is just as perceptive as her mother. "Saving your grandpa. And saving all of us. She died doing something to make sure that everyone else could live."

Nattie's eyes widen slightly, and he sees sympathy wash over her expression. "Mom says she's a hero," she says softly.

Understatement, he thinks. "Yeah, your mom's right about that one."

"Why're you named after her?"

"Well, I think a lot of the reasons are the same ones as why your mom named you after her. Your grandma and grandpa loved and respected her very, very much. And I think maybe naming me after her was a way to show her that, and to honour how she'd become a part of the family too." Nattie opens her mouth to ask another question, but Nate beats her to the punch. "Nuh-uh, we agreed on five questions and that was five. Now it's time for you to go to sleep."

"But—"

"Nope," he cuts her off, grabbing a nearby stuffed animal and plopping it on her face. She giggles and snatches the bear, tucking it under the covers with her. "Goodnight, Nattie," he says fondly.

"Goodnight, Uncle Nate," she returns, tone already shrouded in drowsiness as she begins drifting off almost immediately.

He leans down to kiss her forehead, taking a moment to tuck the blankets around her one last time, and then gets up and heads toward the door. With one last look at his niece, he gestures for his dogs to stay with her, flips the light switch off, and then pulls the door closed, leaving just a sliver open. His steps are quiet as he makes his way down the hall to the kitchen, but his mind's gears are still turning, pulling up memories from his childhood. He busies himself with retrieving a glass and his bottle of good whiskey Cooper had gifted him last Christmas, but suddenly remembers that Lila had asked him to check in with her once Nattie was asleep. He pulls his phone out and taps a quick message to his sister, letting her know everything's fine and that Nattie had tried to con him into extra long story time.

His phone begins to vibrate on the counter a moment later as he's putting away the bottle of whiskey after pouring himself a drink, and he swipes the screen to answer the video call.

"Hey, Lila," he says with a nod. He spots a couple taxis and people walking on the sidewalk in the background, so he assumes that she'd made her way out of the building where the wedding she was attending was being held.

"Hey, Nate. So, she's asleep?"

"Well, I didn't stick around to watch the whole process, but she was already halfway there when I turned out the light, so probably."

Lila chuckles, and he sees her slightly reddened cheeks. Huh, wonder how much she's had to drink, he thinks. "Famous last words, bro," she warns with another light laugh.

"Oh, whatever. She behaves for me."

"That's true," Lila concedes with a thoughtful tilt of her head. She seems to refocus then, her expression sobering a little. "So, she held out for some extra story time, huh?"

"Yeah, but we settled on me answering a few questions instead."

"Oh? Do tell, what about?"

He pauses, taking a sip from his drink before replying. "Aunt Nat."

Lila is silent for a few beats, and he can see the surprise written in her expression. "Wow. Didn't have that one on my bingo card."

"Yeah, caught me off-guard a bit. I feel a little bad," Nathaniel admits in a bit of a surprise to himself, "you and Coop knew her much better than I did. Your answers probably would've been better."

"You knew her too, Nate," Lila tells him, tone reassuring but firm and a far cry from her previous jovial one. "Maybe not as long, and maybe you don't really remember it directly, but you knew her too. Besides, you and Nattie have common ground on being named after her. I'm sure that's why she wanted to ask you and not me or Coop."

"Yeah, I guess."

"I mean it, Nate," she insists, sending him a meaningful look.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Enough of the pity party, though. How's the shindig? And more importantly, is it an open bar?"

She laughs a deep belly laugh, throwing her head back. "It is, thank god. As if I'd attend a wedding with a cash bar. What kind of person do you think I am?" she jokes.

He grins and holds up his drink in a toast, which she mirrors with her wine glass. "Where's your better half?"

"Raiding the dessert table, no doubt," she answers with another laugh. "I should get back, I just wanted to check in."

"Yeah, of course. Don't worry about us, we're fine. Pancakes are on the menu tomorrow morning, and then we're gonna take the dogs to the beach."

"Oh, nice. She'll love that."

"That's the idea," he replies with a smirk.

"Oh, shut up you asshole," she chastises him, then sticks her tongue out at him in a very childlike way and ends the call before he can respond.

With a chuckle at his sister's antics, he slides his phone into his pocket, grabs his drink, and makes his way over to the couch. On his way, in a moment of nostalgia, he pauses briefly to snag a photo album from a shelf.

After settling himself on the couch, he takes a sip from the glass and closes his eyes as he hums softly in appreciation. Damn, that's good, he thinks as he sets the glass down. He opens the photo album and begins flipping through the pages, letting the memories wash over him as he takes in the photos. His mom had put it together for him when he'd moved out and into his own place, telling him that even though he was starting a new chapter of his life, it didn't mean he couldn't look back from time to time and remember the earlier chapters. He'd teased her about the corny metaphor but had secretly appreciated the gift.

He stops when he spots a picture of his aunt holding him as a baby, Cooper and Lila on either side of her. Of course, this particular moment is one that he, himself, could never remember, but he knows the story well; his parents had told it to him many times over the years.

His Aunt Natasha had come to visit a few weeks after he'd been born, and his parents had immediately placed him in her arms. He'd quieted his cries nearly immediately, finding a solace of some kind in her hold. His dad had joked it was because he knew he was her namesake, but his mom had told him Cooper and Lila had been the same way. She'd told him that Natasha had just always been good with all of the Barton kids. He'd asked once why, if she was so good with kids, she never had kids of her own. His mom's expression had darkened, and she'd told him the place Aunt Nat was raised had taken that choice away from her. He'd been too young at the time to understand, and it was only many years later he fully understood the true meaning of his mom's explanation.

He continues flipping through the album, pausing now and then to scrutinize the photos, trying to remember the moments behind them. Aunt Nat had been such a big part of their family, and even though the weight of losing her had been something he perhaps had never truly understood, even as a kid, Nathaniel recognized that her death was a big deal. He remembers one occasion when he'd been sitting on his dad's lap, looking at family photos and being confused about the woman with red hair. His dad was heartbroken as he explained that she was his Aunt Natasha and confirmed it was the person he was named after.

In the weeks and months after she'd died, there'd been other moments where he'd stumbled on other members of the family in their individual moments of grief. As a kid, he'd naively believed then that a hug from him was the solution for their sadness and so had squeezed them each tightly whenever he found them that way. Even decades later, he sees the tinges of grief colour their expressions momentarily when she's mentioned.

He grabs his glass and takes another sip before he continues his trip down memory lane and resolves to ask his mom about the videos from his childhood. Maybe there's a few of her with me, he thinks.

"Uncle Nate?" Nattie calls out from the couch where she's watching TV.

"Yeah?" he calls back from the bathroom where he's hosing down the dogs, who had inevitably gotten covered in sand. He usually did it at the beach, but the tap there was out of order for repairs, so he'd been forced to usher them straight into the bathroom when they returned to his apartment.

"Are you almost done?"

He chuckles at her impatience. He'd promised they could watch a movie when they returned from walking the dogs, and she'd gotten very excited at the prospect. "Almost, Nattie. Just finishing up."

"Mm 'kay!"

He finishes hosing down the dogs and then tries to towel them dry before releasing them out of the bathroom and into the apartment. Naturally, they make a beeline for Nattie on the couch, and it's only a terse command from him, uttered out of instinct, that makes them stop and sit in front of her instead of jumping up onto the furniture. He follows them over to Nattie and drops down onto the couch beside her with an exaggerated sigh.

She giggles at him and then shuffles forward a little. "What's that?" she asks, pointing to the photo album he's been looking at the day before.

"It's a photo album your grandma gave me when I moved here."

Her eyes widen, and her head tilts in interest. "Can I look?"

He shrugs. "Sure, go ahead."

She leans forward to grab it and then sits back again as she flips it open. She scrutinizes each photo closely, occasionally asking questions — most about the identity of the people in the pictures — and listening carefully to his explanations. When she reaches the same photo he'd lingered on the night before — Natasha holding him as a baby, with Lila and Cooper on either side of her — she asks if the woman with the red hair is Natasha.

He nods. "Yep."

She leans closer and traces her features with her finger as though trying to discern more about her from the picture alone. "She's pretty," she says finally.

"Yeah."

"Do you miss her?"

It's an innocent question but still one that he struggles with. He doesn't remember much about Aunt Nat that wasn't from stories or pictures and videos, but a part of him still misses what could have been. Coop and Lila had told him stories about their time with her, and he'd felt a loss at not getting to have that.

"I didn't know her very well," he admits with a twist of his lips, "but yeah, I do."

"You should put up pictures of her," Nattie suggests after a glance around the room. "Mom has pictures of her up above the fireplace at home."

"Yeah?"

"Mmhmm," Nattie answers, nodding once before looking back at the album and flipping to the next page.

Nathaniel rubs his chin thoughtfully and sweeps his gaze around the room. Yeah, he thinks, a few pictures isn't a bad idea at all.

The question of whether you can mourn someone you never really knew / don't remember has always been one of those questions that rolls around my brain occasionally. I figured Nate would've been too young to really remember Natasha (heart-breaking, I know), but I also thought it might be some common ground for him and his niece who was also named after her. (Bonus points if you remembered that tidbit from an earlier chapter!)

As always, thoughts and comments are welcomed.