Chapter Seven: Martyrs to Fate

As Clint had warned, my posthumous high didn't last forever. While it did, however, I made sure I got the most out of it, and spent a (reasonably) entertaining twenty minutes watching myself repeatedly pop back into existence, hand still outstretched for a hot-dog that had long since rotted away to nothing. For no apparent reason, I found this absolutely hilarious - and although Clint didn't exactly share my mirth, he at least seemed somehow comforted by the footage of my spontaneous reappearance.

Reality, however, came crashing back in with the return of our older two from school. We had just squirreled the device back inside our room when I heard the front door being wrenched open. A moment later, someone came stomping up the stairs and along the landing, and then there was another loud 'bang' as a door slammed shut hard enough to rattle the paintings on the wall.

"Cooper?" Clint said.

"Cooper," I nodded, and held up a hand as he stepped forward, "I'll go to him, dear. You should go find Lila before she gets into the cookies."

"But-"

"It's fine, Clint," I smiled, "And if it turns out that we need to go and bust some heads, I promise that I'll let you do it this time."

"I'm going to hold you to that," he said, and left to go downstairs. I took a moment to compose and prepare myself, and then walked along the landing to gently knock on Cooper's door.

"Coop?" I called, gently, "Honey, is everything okay?"

There was a muffled response from the other side of the door, but I was pretty sure it was 'go away'. With an inward sigh, I slowly turned the doorknob and opened the door. Cooper was sitting sullenly on his bed staring across the room at nothing in particular, and scowled at me as I came in.

"Coop-" I began, and then stopped as I realised what I was seeing. My son had definitely been in the wars; his lip was cut, his hair was mussed, and there was the beginning of what looked like a serious bruise forming on his cheek. From the way he was lightly touching his side, I was pretty sure that he had taken a blow to the ribs as well. In a flash I was by his side, my fingers gently tracing the outline of his injuries, "Coop! What in the world happened to you?"

"I don't wanna talk about it," he said, and drew away from my hand, "Just leave me alone."

"Oh no, mister," I said firmly, "You're going to tell me where you got all...all these from, or you'll be telling me and your father. Out with it."

Cooper looked down at his feet and mumbled something, just too soft to hear.

"Coop!"

"Alright, alright!" he said, "I got in a fight, okay!"

"What?" I blinked, "Cooper Barton, you know that's unacceptable-"

"They shouldn't have said what they said!"

"Nothing anyone says should be worth starting a fight over, Coop! You know that!"

"Oh yeah? I don't remember you saying that when you punched that lady in the face!" from his expression he knew he had me, and I held up both hands in supplication.

"You're right; you're right," I said, "So what did they say? Is this ...about us blipping?"

"No. I mean sure, there's a couple of kids who've tried to make that a thing, but…" my son shrugged, "They were talking about Auntie Nat, mom. They...said she was a terrible person and that she deserved to die - and then they started laughing."

"I'm sorry, hon," I said quietly, and took his hand, "That must have been difficult for you to hear."

"How could they say that about Auntie Nat?" Cooper said angrily, "She was always so nice!"

"Better pick your words carefully, Laura."

"Auntie Nat was...complicated. More than most people."

"What does that mean, mom?"

"It means...it means she had a lot of sides to her," I said, struggling to find the right words, "I mean, there was 'Auntie Nat', who loved you and the other two very much, but there was also 'Agent Romanoff' who went on missions and did things that...weren't always good, but always needed to be done."

"Dad said she died so that we could come back," Coop said, and suddenly his voice was very small, "Did she die because she loved us?"

That question hit me hard, and in an instant the anger came roaring back, strong and raw and oh so virulent. I felt my fingers clench reflexively, and as I desperately fought for control I dimly became aware of Coop repeatedly tapping me on the arm.

"Mom!" he said, "Mom! You're hurting me!"

"What?" I said, and looked down. His hand had gone white where I was been gripping it, and I quickly let go and sat back.

"Sorry, dear!" I said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"I know," he said, and then asked again, "Did Auntie-"

"No, hon," I replied firmly, "She...I think Auntie Nat was always haunted by the things she had to do, and she wanted to find a way to make it right."

"How does dying make it right?" Coop pressed, and yet again I paused while I tried to find the words.

"Because...she gave us a second chance," I said, and my voice cracked slightly, "After Thanos killed us she spent every moment she could holding the Avengers together, and she never stopped looking for a way to undo what he did. When she was told she would have to die to save us? She didn't even hesitate," I smiled slightly, "She was so determined she even tased your father."

"She saved his life, too," he said, contemplatively, "Otherwise-"

"Yeah, I know," I said, and tried to force that image down deep inside, "Whatever Auntie Nat may have done during her life, her selflessness saved our family and trillions more like us. Remember her for that, okay?"

"I'll try."

"And don't ever forget that she loved you, Coop," I added, and suddenly found myself struggling to keep my voice level, "One of the reasons why she became a better person is because of you, Lila, and Nate. You gave her a reason to do so."

"I...guess," he said, after a moment's thought, "But what do I do if other people say-"

"It doesn't matter what they say, hon," I said, "They don't know Auntie Nat like you do. Have you...talked to any of the counsellors about this? I know the school has some."

"Hah," Cooper snorted, "Lila and I got dragged in to talk to one. All Lila could talk about was Maisie, but...how can I tell them about Auntie Nat? I can't tell anyone about Dad, and if I said that 'Black Widow' was my aunt they'd either think I was mad or…"

"True."

"And they keep trying to be my friend, mom," he went on, "It just feels so...fake. I don't want people faking being nice to me just 'cause I blipped. It makes me feel like a freak."

"Okay, well…" I paused, "You know you can always talk to me or your father-"

"Dad's hurting enough right now, mom," Cooper said, "He needs me, not the other way around."

"That's…" my heart suddenly swelled, and I could feel the tears already welling up inside me.

"Good heavens. How on earth did we manage to raise such an amazing kid?"

"Are you okay, mom?" Coop was looking at me with some concern.

"I'm fine," I said, and wiped my eyes, "How about me? I mean, we're talking now."

"And you nearly crushed my hand, mom," he pointed out, holding up his still-white appendage as evidence, "Auntie Nat was your friend, too."

"Okay, Coop. Let me...let me think about this," I said, "And If I can find someone for you to talk to, would you want to talk to them? Do you think it would help?"

"I guess," he said, and waved at his face, "It can't be any worse than getting beaten up. That's for sure."

I left Coop in his room and went downstairs to find Clint and Lila. Surprisingly, Clint had managed to get to Lila before she had managed to get into the cookie jar, but from the puppy dog eyes she was giving her Dad I was sure that it would only be a matter of time before his resolve crumbled.

"No cookies until after dinner, Lila," I said brisky, "You'll ruin your appetite. And your teeth."

"But mom-!"

"No buts! You know the rules."

Lila pouted, and turned to give Clint her most cajoling look.

"Dad-"

"Oh no," he said, holding up both his hands, "There's no way I'm crossing your mother."

"Huh!" my daughter sulked for a moment, and then recovered with surprising speed, "I saw Maisie at school today. She hasn't been there for a while, but I saw her today!"

"Lila," I began, "Um…"

"She was helping out in our Blip class," Lila rabbited on, "They've had some of the older children who didn't Blip help out 'cause some of the teachers who did Blip are having to learn stuff themselves and anyway she was there and she kept looking at me but she didn't say anything to me," she took a deep breath, "Do you think I should say something to her? I don't want her to feel sad again."

"Okay - how in the world did an international secret agent and a stay-at-home farmgirl manage to raise two compassionate children? The mind boggles."

"I...maybe you should just give her some space," I said, "Maybe she'll talk to you when she's ready."

"I hope so," Lila said, "I miss her."

"I know, darling, but at least you know she's there," I said, "You need to think about how she would've felt during the five years while we blipped. It's a lot for her to have to deal with," I paused, and smiled gently at Clint, "It's a lot for anyone to have to deal with, and sometimes we'll just need to be patient and forgiving until they're ready to talk."

"I know," my daughter said, "I'll give her some space."

"Good girl," I said, and after a moment's consideration got the cookie jar down from the shelf and unscrewed it, "Just one. Now shoo; I need to talk to your father."

"Thanks, mom!" Lila hopped down from the table and dashed into the other room. A moment later, the familiar sound of daytime television filtered back through the door.

"Coop got in a fight today," I said to Clint, once I was sure Lila was engrossed in her cartoons, "Apparently there were some kids bad-mouthing Nat, and he couldn't handle it."

"Is he hurt?" Clint said, "Do I need to-"

"He's fine," I reassured him, "I think he just needs a little time alone right now - but I would like him to talk to someone. Unfortunately, he doesn't seem to like the counsellors at school, and he doesn't want to hurt our feelings either."

"He's a good kid," he smiled, "So...who do you want him to talk to? You'd better not be thinking of-"

"He needs to talk to someone who knows about 'Auntie Nat', knows that you're an Avenger, and who isn't even going to attempt to be his friend," I shrugged, "There aren't many people who fit that bill."

"Yeah, and the one you're thinking of may or may not be planning to release a virus on the United States!" Clint pointed out, and then snapped his fingers, "That reminds me, I actually need to check in with Fury and let him know what you found."

"You didn't do that earlier?"

"When would I have done it? I got sidetracked by my crazy wife wanting to repeatedly watch her own death," he pointed out, "And then I got sidetracked by my crazy wife wanting to repeatedly watch her own resurrection. I'll call him in a second...but I'm definitely not crazy about you taking Coop to see Thera. The guy doesn't strike me as the kind of person who likes children very much."

"I know he sets your teeth on edge-"

"You mean he doesn't set your teeth on edge?" Clint raised an eyebrow, "The guy never misses a chance to talk down to us!"

"And I... think that's an act," I said, "Call it a hunch, but I'm pretty sure he's trying very hard to be someone he isn't."

Clint looked like he was about to say something, but then paused and gave me a careful look, "Are you sure about that?"

"I'm pretty positive - why?"

"Because you've always been good at reading people. Better than me, for sure."

"Now you're flattering me," I snorted, "Look; it's just a hunch, and he and his fiancee are clearly planning something...but I still reckon he'd be good for Coop. He's a competitive boy and Thera clearly enjoys being antagonistic; maybe he can get more out of him then we could. Besides, can you think of anyone else?"

"...no," Clint sighed, "I'm still a bit surprised Coop doesn't want to talk to you. You always seem to know just what to say."

"Seriously, Clint," I said, suspiciously, "What's with all this flattery? I'm beginning to think you're angling for something."

"It's the truth!" he protested.

"Mmm-hmm," I said, "Well, you know the deal. Commando leathers or bust."

"Honestly, I can't believe I didn't know you were into that. All these years wasted," he sighed wistfully, and checked his watch, "Anyway, we'll have to pick this up later; I need to go get Nate."

"Sure," I said, "I'll see if I can get in contact with Thera, I guess. I'll try that number that keeps sending us appointment reminders."

"Or you could stand in front of a mirror and say his name three times," Clint smirked, "Legend says if you do that he'll appear and say something that he thinks is funny."

"Stop it!" I laughed, and slapped at his arm, "How's Liv, by the way?"

"Not sure. I don't hang out at the school gate," he said, "However, I did hear overhear someone else saying that she 'was going to shoot that bitch Laura if she ever sets foot inside school grounds again' so I don't get the feeling she's the forgiving type."

"Charming."

"I know, right?" he said, and leaned in for a quick kiss, "I'll see you in half an hour."

After quickly checking up on Lila and Coop, I settled back down on the dining room table and pulled out my phone. After a couple of moments I located and dialled the mystery number that had been sending us appointments, but was not entirely surprised when my phone beeped angrily at me and told me that it couldn't connect. With a sigh, I put the phone down and leaned forwards putting my head in my hands.

"Relax, Laura," my mind said, "You can't solve everyone's problems in a single day."

"Yeah, but...I should be able to solve this one," I muttered, "I mean, really."

"Maybe you should be working on solving the mystery of why you're still getting so angry? I mean, it hasn't gone away just because you've admitted that Thanos killed you, so what is it?"

"I don't know," I sighed, "Maybe I'm just angry. Maybe something went wrong when they put me back together."

"Those are just excuses. Do you want to go through life with that kind of anger? You hurt Coop."

"That was an accident!" I protested furiously.

"Yeah, but at what point does it stop being an accident and start being negligent? Come on, Laura. You-"

My phone buzzed, shocking me back to reality. Looking up, I saw that someone was ringing me from a local area code, although I didn't recognise the number. Frowning, I answered the call.

"Hello?" I said.

"Hi," said the voice at the other end. It was extremely familiar, "Is that Laura Barton?"

"Speaking," I said, and added, "Hello, Thera."

"Yeah, hi," he said, "Look, I'm sorry to have to track you down at home, but you've left your handbag here and I'd imagine you want it back."

"My handbag?" I blinked, "Are you sure?"

"I'm looking at it right now," Thera said, "Medium size, black material - possibly leather - kind of drab appearance? Probably fashionable during the Age of Steam?"

"That was a third anniversary present from Clint!"

"My apologies."

"I should think so too!" I snapped, and then a thought occurred, "Hold on a second-"

Thera laughed a surprisingly friendly laugh down the phone, and then he said, "No, it's a lovely bag, and I'm sure that you need whatever's inside it as well so...just swing by whenever. I'll keep it safe."

"Thanks, Thera," I said, "Actually, I've been trying to get ahold of you myself. Can I ask you something?"

"Is it about the bag?"

"No, it's not about the bag."

"Oh?" Thera suddenly sounded interested, "Do go on."

"It's about my son, Coop," I said, "He-"

"Hold up, Laura," Thera cut in, "I'm not comfortable doing paediatrics. That's a pretty specialised area."

"I understand that," I said, "Look, he...got in a fight today."

"Oh? How'd he do? Does he take after his mum or his dad?"

"That's not the point!" I said, "He got in a fight because some kids were saying some things about his Auntie Nat."

"By 'Auntie Nat' you're referring to the late Agent Romanoff, correct?"

"Yeah."

"...Laura, what he needs is a bereavement counsellor," Thera said, after a pause, "Which is something I'm spectacularly bad at."

"I know - and I promise that I'll look for one, but right now he needs to speak to someone who knows our family's...secrets," I said, and plunged on, "I don't know how you know so much about us, and I'll admit it creeps me out a little, but the fact is that you aren't going to be surprised if he tells you about his Auntie Black Widow."

"True. I'm assuming that he hasn't talked to the school counsellors about this?"

"He's put off by that, and them trying to be his friend," I said, and then said, "I can't...really imagine you doing that."

"Also true."

"Please," I said, "I don't want you to be his therapist or anything like that; I just want him to be able to offload on someone. I wouldn't ask if I didn't think it was serious."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and then a long sigh.

"You know, if this was another family I probably would've told you to make alternative arrangements," Thera said, wearily, "But you make a good point regarding your... specific circumstances. Fine; I'll talk to him."

"Thank you, Thera," I said, sincerely, "I really owe you one. When should I bring him?"

"Well...there's no time like the present," he said, with what sounded very much like a shrug, "You can come pick up this bag of yours at the same time."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah. Somehow, it's clashing with my entire room."

"I mean-" I caught myself, and decided against diving down that particular rabbit hole.

"My fiancee is stopping by as well, but I'm sure she can amuse herself for bit."

"As soon as Clint gets back from picking up Nate I'll be right over," I promised, "Thanks again."

"Yeah, sure. See you later," he said, and the line went dead.

Clint returned maybe twenty minutes later, and after a brief catchup regarding my accomplishments I bundled an objecting Coop into the car and set a course for Thera's warehouse.

"There's no point in complaining, young man," I said, after the umpteenth moan from the passenger seat, "You said you would talk to someone if I found someone for you to talk to."

"I didn't think you meant today, mom!" Coop protested, "I was going to hang out with my friends!"

"This is more important."

"It's just going to be a waste of time."

"Maybe, but you need to talk to someone," I said firmly, "And don't worry; this guy already knows all about your Dad and Auntie Nat and everything else, so you don't need to hide anything from him."

"How does he know all that, mom?"

"I'm...not sure. Right now, it doesn't matter," I said, and nodded at the warehouse as it came into view, "There it is."

"He works out of a warehouse?" Cooper said, "You found a guy who knows everything about Dad and Auntie Nat and he works out of a warehouse? Don't you think this is a little suspicious?"

"Dad is looking into it, Coop; don't worry," for now, I decided to leave my personal contributions out of it, "And...try not to be too awkward with Thera, will you? He's only trying to help."

Despite the bright afternoon sun, the warehouse felt that little bit more dangerous this time around. Although I had never seen anyone else even use the parking lot, this time it felt especially empty, and the wind soughing through the abandoned complex seemed to have picked up a warning, mocking edge. Cooper, too, was clearly disquieted by the ominous setting, and the looks he gave me as we got out of the car made it pretty clear what he thought about this whole undertaking. I did my best to ignore his sarcastic mumbling as I led the way around the side of the warehouse, but I felt his eyes burning a hole in my back the entire way.

In contrast to the brilliant outdoors the warehouse lighting was subdued, although the electric lighting was putting up a valiant effort. Again, someone had gone to the trouble of tidying up yet further; more of the shelving had been moved aside and in its place was now a large grid of crash mats, of the sort normally used in judo or aikido classes.

"That's new," I muttered to Cooper, "That wasn't even there this morning."

"Great," he rolled his eyes, "Your therapist starting a dojo?"

"Mind the sarcasm, kiddo. I've half a mind to-"

Exactly what I had half a mind to do died on my lips as the office door creaked open. Even in the comparatively low light levels, Thera's pink beanie was impossible to miss.

"Laura?" he called, "'Thought it was you. Hold on; I'll come down."

Thera emerged from his office and came down the steps two at a time to greet us. Following him was the woman I had seen on the satellite images, and my blood went a little cold as she casually hopped over the railing and dropped silently to the floor. She wasn't obviously armed, but it was just as obvious from the fluid way she moved and carried herself that she didn't need to be.

"Hi, Laura," Thera said. If he had spotted my unease, he clearly chose not to mention it, "I'm afraid you've caught us at a slightly awkward time-" he gestured at the crash mats, "-but it's fine."

"Thanks for agreeing to see us," I said, and nodded towards the approaching woman, "I don't believe we've…"

"Met? No, you wouldn't have done," Thera said, "Laura? This is my fiancee…"

"...Viola," the fiancee supplied helpfully, as she smiled and shook my hand.

"Laura," I said, searching her face carefully for clues. Like Thera, she seemed to go in for strangely coloured contact lenses, and although most of her hair was jet black it was shot through with patches where it was almost completely white.

"Poliosis," Viola said.

"I'm sorry?"

"You were looking at my hair," she said, still smiling, "People want to either touch it or ask why it's got bits of white in it."

"I'm sorry - I didn't mean to stare!" I said quickly, and she laughed.

"Please, I'm used to it - and between you and me, I wouldn't change it for the world. I also wouldn't cover up with one of those-" she indicated Thera's beanie with a shudder, "-unlike some people I can name."

"Yeah, okay," Thera rolled his eyes, "Anyway, you didn't come all the way out here to talk about Viola's hair care routine. You came all the way out here for this guy; Cooper, wasn't it?"

"I don't see why you're asking for my name," Cooper said sullenly, "Mom said you already know everything about us."

Viola and Thera exchanged a wry glance, and I could see that she was suddenly struggling to suppress a grin.

"Okay - firstly? You're adorable," Thera said, "I genuinely don't think I've seen such a sorrowful, woe-is-me look on something that wasn't part-Labrador."

"Huh!"

"Secondly, I know that you don't want to be here," he went on, quietly, "And I know that you'd rather be hanging out with your friends, doing...uh, Vi? What do kids 'round here do?"

"Well..." Vi considered this, "Last time I was in town they all seemed to be glued to those miniature televisions. Totally glued; I had to pull one out of the way of a lorry."

"Good thing you were there," Thera remarked, "Now, I've agreed to see you, Cooper, on short notice 'cause quite frankly my evening was otherwise going to consist of being repeatedly bounced off those mats-"

"Its true," Viola said, "He bounces very nicely."

"-thank you, Vi," Thera said, "But I also agreed to see you because I hear you've been starting fights - and from looking at you, it's pretty clear that you're not winning them."

"I do alright," Coop said defensively.

"You've been lucky," Viola said, in a suddenly serious tone, "If you keep on having fights there'll be a point where you'll get a serious injury. Nobody here wants that, Coop."

"So here we are," the therapist said, "And as you've pointed out, I already know a lot about your family's...secrets. I know about 'Auntie Nat', a.k.a. Agent Natasha Romanoff, a.k.a. the 'Black Widow', and I know about your dad being an Avenger."

"So?" Coop said.

"So you can tell me anything, even things that your school counsellors might regard as crazy. It doesn't just have to be about that, either - you can tell me your hopes, dreams, fears, nightmares...believe me, Vi and I have heard it all."

"Oh my, yes," Viola shuddered, "In excruciating detail."

"And I promise that no matter what you say, I'm not going to judge you and I'm not going to tell anyone else; not Vi, not your mother. What you tell me will be completely confidential - unless it's an emergency. Does that make sense?"

"Because if it doesn't, then our only alternative is to teach you to win fights," Viola said brightly, "Which means that you'll be spending six months at a minimum being bounced off these mats, twice a week. And I don't go easy on my pupils."

"She really doesn't."

There was a long silence, and Cooper stared at the oddly matched couple with a look somewhere between confusion and awe.

"And you promise that you aren't going to try and be my friend?"

"Have I given you any indication that I want to be your friend?" Thera raised an eyebrow, and Cooper shook his head.

"Good - because I'm not your friend," Thera said firmly, "I'm not your mum's friend, I'm not your dad's friend, and until I get fired or opt for the sweet release of death that's the way it's going to stay. Understood?"

"I...guess."

Thera shook his head, "I'm going to need more than a guess, Cooper."

"Okay - yes! Jeez."

"Amazing," Thera said flatly, "We may as well go talk in my office, such as it is. Either your mum or Vi can sit in if you'd like a chaperone, but that's entirely up to you."

"I'll be fine on my own," Cooper said, "I'll see you in a bit, mom."

Viola and I watched in silence as Thera led my son up to the office, and the door clicked shut behind them.

"Well, that was fun! Bright kid," Viola said, and clapped me lightly across the back, "Drink?"

"You'll think he'll be okay?" I said, after a moment.

"Coop? Sure," she shrugged, "Like I said; bright kid."

"I know...I'm just worried," I admitted, "He's never been the sort to start fights."

"And you are?" an eyebrow went up, "Because I've watched that video maybe twenty times now and your technique is awful. You're lucky you didn't break your hand."

"Well," I held up my bandaged hand for her inspection, "I came close."

"So I see," she smiled crookedly, "Anyway, don't worry about Coop. C'mon, let's go and grab a drink; it'd be nice to chat to someone else for a change."

"I thought you were going to train?"

"With whom?" Viola looked around, "My normal training partner is currently talking to your son, and you-" she gave me a quick once over, "-no offence, but I'd be worried I'd break you. Like a china doll."

"I'm stronger than I look!"

"Wouldn't be hard," she snorted, "Coffee?"

With no other real choice, I followed Viola over to a side door, which connected to a large, dimly lit room with several long benches down the middle. In one corner there were signs that someone had tried to make it a little more homey; there was a small fridge, humming away, some breakfast cereal, and what seemed to be a kettle and a coffee machine.

"Was probably a mess hall," Viola said, "Found the coffee machine in a box. Found filters and coffee in town - et voila; fresh coffee! How do you take yours? Milk? Sugar?"

"I, um...white, thanks," I said. Her lilting accent and rapid fire speech made keeping up with her difficult. There was a short pause while she busied herself with the drinks, and then I found a cup of coffee skimming down the table towards me. Somehow, I managed to catch it without spilling the coffee all over my dress.

"Sorry," Viola said, apologetically, "Forgot you weren't Thera. That's...it's a game we play."

"It's okay," I said, and took a sip of the coffee. It was much stronger than I was used to, but I wasn't about to complain.

"So…" Viola said, sitting down across from me, "You still time-lagged?"

"Time lagged?"

"You know, writing old dates, things like that?" she said, "I keep having to remind myself that we're five years in the future."

"Yeah, it still doesn't seem quite real, does it."

"What's unreal about two dead women sharing coffee?" Viola smiled, "You'll get there. We both will."
"I suppose," I said, and added, "Some days it's hard. I just feel…really angry sometimes."

"And?" Viola cocked her head to one side, "What's wrong with that? I'm angry! I mean, for me everything was finally going right, and what happens? I get flipping snuffed by some idiot from halfway across the universe because he thinks I'm using up too much oxygen or something. So yeah - I'm angry, and while I've no idea where I've been for the past five years, but I'm pretty sure I spent most of it swearing."

"I suppose."

"You do suppose," she said, and sighed, "Give yourself a break, Laura - we died. All of us. That's not something that you traditionally just walk off, and everyone's going to have something or other bottled up inside them. I mean, do I mean, do you genuinely think that your son is picking fights just 'cause dear Auntie Nat bought the farm? Of course not."

"Don't talk about Nat like that!" I said sharply, "She was one of my best friends."

"I'm sorry," she said immediately, and held up a hand, "That was out of order. It's just…well, if I don't laugh at this whole bloody ridiculous situation I'll just end up crying instead."

"It's okay," I said, softly.
"No, it's not," she said, quite sincerely, "Look, I know how much Romanoff meant to your family, and I was... really sorry to hear about her sacrifice. It wasn't fair."

"Is any of this fair?" I retorted, "For anyone?"

"I'd bet there's someone out there who's made out like a bandit over this," Viola said, "But it sure wasn't us."

There was a long, awkward silence while we stared into our respective coffee cups. After a little while, it became clear that I was going to have to make the first move. I coughed, and said, "So, what were you doing when…"

"He snuffed me?" Viola said, "I was just finishing a commission. It was going to pay for the flowers and cake - for our wedding, I mean. 'Next thing I know, I'm flat on my back in a bloody wheat field in sodding Missouri with half a pot of paint on my face. Do you know how much that stuff costs? I must have cut a weeks' pay out of my hair."

"Wait - you moved?" I blinked, "I thought that everyone who Blipped came back exactly where they were killed."

"Guess Thera and I got the 'special treatment', eh?" she said sourly, "Why - what happened to you?"

"'Was having lunch with the family," I said, "Just called everyone over, and poof."

"Didn't expect to be a condiment, right?" Viola smirked, and I laughed despite myself. Just then, a thought occurred to me.

"Viola, if you moved during the Blip, that means you could have come from anywhere," I said.

"Yup."

"Have you...been able to contact your friends? Your family?"

Her smile froze, and I immediately felt terrible for asking.

"I'm sorry," I said, quickly, "I shouldn't have asked that."

"No...no, it's okay," she said, and turned away for a moment, "And I'm sure they're okay. It's just that I miss them. So much."

"You'll see them again, I'm sure of it," I said, reassuringly, "Is there anything I can do?"

"I don't think so," she said, "But thanks for asking."

"Well, if you think of anything, just tell me. I...well, you know I know the Avengers. Maybe one of them-?"

"No! I mean...no, thank you," Viola said, and then said, "Just talking is more than enough."

"But someone like Dr. Strang-"

"We'll manage, Laura," she said, in a tone that strongly suggested this line of enquiry was now over, "It's just...waiting is hard."

"It's probably even harder when you're stuck in this warehouse," I said, and then a thought occurred to me, "You said you're an artist, right?"

"Amongst other things, yeah."

"Well...there is an art gallery in one of the towns nearby. It's quite a large one, an-and they sometimes have exhibitions on…"

An eyebrow went up, "Go on."

"Well, I was wondering...if you'd...possibly like to come...with me? We could get coffee?" I said, and added quickly, "You don't have to if you don't want to."

"My goodness, Laura. I haven't seen stuttering like that since the first time Thera asked me out!" Viola laughed, "But I'd like that. It would be a nice change of scenery."

"I'm glad," I said, "I...could use a friend."

"Me too," she said, and then sat back on her bench, "You know, I'm surprised you don't have more friends, Laura; you're very easy to talk to. You don't do anything to scare them off, do you?"

"What? No!" I said, "It's just...with Clint's work it's difficult to get to know people. I always kind of feel like I'm hiding something from them."

"Mmm-hmm."

"Besides, it's not too bad. I was an only child so I had to get used to being by myself - and then there's the kids, and the farm…"

"It's okay, Laura; I'm not judging you."

"At least with you I don't have to worry about hiding things. You already know everything!" I laughed briefly, and then fear suddenly gripped my stomach, "Hold on. If you already know everything, then-"

"-yeah, I know about Clint, and his little...extracurricular activities," Viola said, with a slightly disdainful sniff, "Very unprofessional. Still, my lips are sealed. Thera's, too."

"Thank you," I said, sincerely, "But how-"

"I'm not going to reveal my source. I mean, c'mon, Laura. But I can tell you that that source simply isn't available to anyone who might want to...act on it. You can relax. I've got this covered."

"If you're sure," I said, my nerves subsiding somewhat. She did seem extremely confident in the matter, "But...why? I mean, Thera said he would report-"

"-signs of domestic violence or abuse," Viola said, "What are we going to do with two hundred and seventy three counts of murder? I mean, I might disagree with his methods, and his approach, and his technique...but I have no issue with him going to town on organised crime. I'm just worried about the risk of reprisal."

"Apparently he took the necessary precautions, and so did Stark."

"That's...good," Viola looked down at her coffee cup, and her voice dropped almost to a whisper, "We were called out, once, to the aftermath of a reprisal attack. There was...they didn't stop at the adults, Laura, and they took their time. I'll die before I see that happen again."

"That's terrible," I said. I could see the tears standing in her eyes, "I'm so sorry."

"Not as sorry as they were," she said grimly, "So yeah, we won't go to the police because if we do we may as well just tell the world. And...because I don't want your kids to get hurt."

"Thanks, Viola."

"Vi is fine," she said. Her gaze hadn't shifted from her cup, and I wondered exactly what she was seeing in it.

"Thanks, Vi," I said, "That's not your real name, though - is it."

"No, it's my mother's," she looked up, and gave me a faint smile, "The last thing I wanted was to get lumbered with some stupid sodding name like 'Thera'."

"He asked for it!"

"I know," she snorted, "I told him before you arrived that he needed to pick a sensible name, but he was preoccupied with being mauled by an angry raccoon."

"I heard. You know those things carry rabies, right?"

"Yeah," Viola said, and shrugged, "He'll be fine."

"But-"

"If he starts frothing and biting people, I'll be sure to let you know," she said, and yet again it was clear that line of enquiry was over, "Who knows? Maybe you'll get a discount."

"We...haven't been asked to pay."

"Free coffee, then?" she suggested, and looked at my cup, "No - wait…"

"I had a question, actually," I said suddenly, and nodded at her engagement ring. I hadn't really paid close attention to it before, but it was dark - matte black, actually, with a similarly dark gemstone set flush within the band, "Your ring...it's a little unusual."

"It's tantalum," she said, "Hard-wearing and darkened so I can wear it on the job. I mean I normally wear gloves, but..."

"Clint doesn't wear his band," I said, "Says he's worried it'd give away his position."

"He's not wrong," she said, "Personally, I don't normally have to worry about snipers, but I'd rather not have my engagement ring be either a beacon or an invitation to blow my head off."

"Hmm," I gave it another long look, "Well, you've just given me an idea."

"Really? But aren't you already marri-" Viola stopped suddenly, "Oh, of course."

"Yeah."

"Being dead is such a pain."

"Yeah," I smiled, "I mean, I'm not worried about the legalities or anything;I just think it would be a nice gesture."

"Sure; a new world, a new beginning? I could get behind that," she shrugged, "But what do I know? I'm-"

There was a loud knock at the door, and we both turned to see Thera and Coop looking on curiously.

"-well, to be continued," Vi muttered, and then raised her voice, "You done, dear?"

"Yeah," Thera said, "Laura? A word, if you wouldn't mind. Vi...could you look after Coop for a second? Maybe show him some of your gymnastics…?"

"I'm not a performing seal, you know," she grumbled, but stood up regardless.

"Could've fooled me," Thera raised an eyebrow, "Those kids last week? You were lapping it up."
"Fine, fine. Coffee's in the pot," Vi said, and pinned Coop with a stare, "C'mon Coop. Let's give 'em a bit of space, shall we?"

Thera watched Vi and Coop vanish out through the door, and then grabbed a cup from the side and quickly filled it with thick, black coffee before coming to sit across from me.

"Bright kid, your kid," he remarked, "Bright future, too - which is more than could be said for any of us two months ago."

"Is he okay?"

"Without going into detail? Yeah, as okay as anyone else, which is an admittedly low bar to clear," he shrugged, "I mean, he's a sensitive lad who suffers from the usual boy thing of not wanting to appear weak in front of others, but that's not exactly unusual. Having another bloke tell you that it's okay to cry can sometimes be...liberating."

"I've - we've never told him that it's not, uh, manly to cry, though."

"Didn't say you had," Thera leaned back and put his hands behind his head, "And I'll freely admit that Clint is more...in touch with his emotions than either his chosen profession or my information would suggest. Still, society puts a lot of weight on guys being stoical and independent, and that's gonna be pretty compelling to a kid; particularly a kid whose Dad just saved the universe."

"So...what did you tell him?"

"In short? The truth," he said, "And that's all I'm saying. I made a promise, and if he thinks I'm breaking it then he won't be open with me. That's not good."

"But he's my son!"
"Then go and talk to him," Thera shrugged, "You may or may not get anywhere, but that's an entirely separate issue. Anyway, I didn't really want to talk about him. I just wanted to ask you something...just based off a couple of observations I've made."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Have you ever thought about going into counselling?" he said, and quickly held up a hand, "I'm not obviously attempting to tell you how to run your life, but your son mentioned that you'd said similar things to what I did. You also managed to get your husband to open up about Agent Romanov without totally screwing it up, which is not actually all that trivial considering what happened."

"But they're my family. I-"

"I'm not your family," he said, "And you managed to get me to open up as well; I told you an awful lot more than I actually intended to. For whatever reason, you're just a very easy person to talk to, and...I'm pretty sure that you see further than most."

"Vi said the same thing," I said, and watched Thera's eyebrows jump slightly at the word 'Vi', "I just...I don't know."

"If she said that, I'm genuinely impressed," he said, with a crooked smile, "She's normally pretty guarded with people she just met. Look, Laura - again, I'm not telling you to immediately leap up and run to the nearest adult education centre, and it's entirely possible that I'm totally wrong about you. It's just...I don't think I am, and I think you may have some serious untapped potential here. You might be able to help a lot of people out."

"Do you really think so?" I said, "I mean - the world doesn't seem to need me that badly-"

"Seriously?" Thera's expression changed from amused to annoyed in almost a blink of an eye, "Are you blind or have you just decided not to look?"

"Well, I-"

"About fifteen miles away from here there's a 'Blip Centre', Laura," he said, "As you might've guessed from the name, it's for people who Blipped and have now lost everything; houses, jobs, relationships. You know what it actually is? It's a bunch of container crates stacked on top of each other. In summer. There's another four hundred like it across the midwestern USA alone; and the gods only know how many across the rest of the globe."

"Really?" I paused, and then said, "I had no idea."

"Of course not," he said, sardonically, "What was the first thing you did when you got reconstituted? You ran back to your castle, built the walls you'd already built between yourself and the world even higher, and then pulled up the drawbridge. You left your husband on the outside, remember?."

"That's not fair!"

"Isn't it?" he said, boring in deeper, "Your world is your family and that farmhouse, and it has been since at least Cooper was born. As long as that's all okay, why should Laura Barton be worried about anything else?"

"Are you calling me selfish?"

"I'm calling you insular," he said, "Which isn't that much better, I'll grant you. Still, you realise that but for a roll of the dice, you could've Blipped back to find a new family living in your home and Clint dead at the bottom of a bloody chasm on Vormir. What would you have done then, Laura? How would you have handled being widowed and made homeless in the blink of an eye?"

"Would you stop?" I said, defensively.

"Answer the question."

"Why? That didn't happen!"

"It did for millions across the globe!" he pointed out, "Look, I go to that Blip Centre twice a week to provide medical assistance, but honestly? They don't really need it; what they really need are people who can sit down, have a cup of tea with them, and listen."

"Isn't that your department? I thought you were good at listening."

"I'm just one person," Thera said, "You don't ask a grain of sand to hold back the tide."

"No. You get someone like...like Rogers, or his replacement. You know, a hero."

"What, you think he can flap his wings and make everything better? That'd be nice," Thera smiled briefly, but then his shoulders dropped and he sighed, "You're right - we need heroes, but we don't need any more people like Wilson, Laura. We have gods, demigods, sorcerers, men in powered armour, super soldiers, weaponised flora and fauna…and what good are they now? How many times has Thor helped set up an emergency relief camp? How many times did Rogers help get the power back on, or the water flowing?"

"That's not their job!"

"Then who's job is it?"

"I...I don't know," I conceded, eventually, "But it's not mine."

"Why not?"

"Well...I'm not a hero! I'm just the insular, stay-at-home wife."

"You're selling yourself short, you know," Thera said, with a wry smile, "And you certainly aren't 'just' the insular, stay-at-home wife. Nobody who marries an Avenger and then keeps the bugger's feet on the ground is 'just' anything."

"That's very motivational," I said, a little tartly, "Have you considered being a therapist?"

"It's a recurring nightmare of mine," he responded blandly, "I think you're in it."

"Clever."

"I try," he said, "But I'm also being quite serious. If we all stand around and declare that getting the power back on isn't our job, the power doesn't get turned back on. Or in this instance, we leave a couple billion hurting individuals to their own, potentially self-destructive devices. Do you seriously think that's going to end well?"

"Okay, so why aren't you doing anything about it?"

"I am," he said, a little irritably, "But like I said before; this isn't about me."

"Then who is it about?"

"Right now? You."

"Oh, come on," I snorted, "Pull the other one, it's got bells on."

"Believe me or don't; it's entirely your choice," he said, "Remember, I go home when my contract finishes. This isn't a long term problem for me. It may be for you."

"Well...you know what, Thera? I don't believe you," I said, and tried to keep the defensive tone out of my voice, "I certainly don't believe that any of this is about me like...like some kind of prophesied chosen one! How ridiculous is that?"

"Thanos chose himself to wipe out half the universe," Thera said, "Good thing that was just a ridiculous fantasy, right?"

"Anyway, I have a full time job looking after my family! What about my husband? He really needs me right now."

"Yeah; please keep a lid on that guy," he agreed, "The potential for blowback keeps Vi up at night."

"You see? I can't. I'd like to, but I can't. You'll...have to find another Chosen One."

"And that is fine, Laura," he said, and held up both hands, "It's a lot to ask of anyone, and as I said I'm not telling you how to run your life."

"Wait - that's it?" I said, "No hard feelings?"

"No hard feelings," he said, "Anyway; we've probably kept your son waiting long enough, and I have a fiancee who wants to break me in two, so..."

"You're right," I said, and then realised the other reason I had come by, "Oh! I need my bag."

"So you do," he said, and leaned back in his seat, "Vi! Can you go grab Laura's bag for her? Thanks!"

There was a muffled response from the main hall, and Thera grinned nastily in response.

"She'll just be a minute," he said, "Oh - regarding your son? I'm happy to see him again if either you or him want me to. Just make sure that you clean him up next time, would you? I'm still not operating a walk-in centre."

"Ah, yeah," I said, "Sorry about that."

"It's fine," he waved it aside, "A friendly warning, though; if he keeps on getting in fights then Vi will start taking a more...active interest. She gets pretty protective at times, particularly where kids are involved."

"So I hear," I said, and got to my feet, "Thanks again for your help, Thera - and I'm sorry that I can't help you out. I'd like to, but…"

"Of course," Thera said, with a mocking little smile, "You're very busy; I quite understand. Look; you've got potential, but how you use it is entirely up to you. Just...think about it for the future, maybe?"

Coop seemed strangely quiet on the way back to the farmstead, and from the couple of times I glanced over he seemed to be deep in contemplation. Every attempt I made to engage him in conversation was either met with silence or a non-committal grunt, and so after a couple of attempts I gave up and tried to concentrate on the road. My mind, however, had other ideas.

"He's right, you know," it murmured treacherously, "So much potential just going to waste. Story of your life, though, eh Laura?"

"Be quiet," I muttered to myself, "And you sound like my mom."

"She was a smart woman."

"She could be a total bitch."

"Didn't make her wrong, though," my mind said, "But still, you're really doing this? You'd rather place your faith in two burn-outs than step up to the plate?"

"They aren't that bad."

"Oh please - they're a mess, and you know it. Thera's a compulsive fixer with a bad case of compassion fatigue and Vi's a walking pile of unresolved past trauma. Save the world? They can't even save themselves."

"That seems unfair," I said, "After all they've been through-"

"Do you really buy that story about them Blipping to Missouri? If they did, why did Thera have all those pictures in his room? I don't recall us being given the option to Blip with luggage!"

"You mean-"

"Either those pictures are fake, or they didn't Blip," my mind concluded, triumphantly, "In both cases they're being dishonest. We already know that Thera's whole 'therapist' thing is an act, and Coop is right; why are two individuals with information that only the Avengers should know camping out in a warehouse in the middle of nowhere?"

"So which are they?" I asked sharply, "Are they dangerous, dishonest criminals living off the grid, or are they a pair of washed-out screw ups who are living a fantasy in a warehouse? You can't have both!"

"Why not? Desperate people do dangerous things, and we still don't know what this 'contract' Thera keeps referring to actually is."

"Lots of people have contracts."

"And yet Thera spoke about 'switching targets' earlier. I can only think of one kind of contract that have 'targets', and Vi is clearly ex-police or military or something."

"Maybe Clint will know more when we get home."

"Maybe," my inner voice sounded dubious, "It doesn't matter right now. What matters is that whatever else Thera may be, he's right. Why can't you admit that you're scared?"

"I'm not scared!"

"You can't lie to me, Laura. I'm you. He really got your back up when he pointed out that but for the flip of a coin you could be living in a Blip Centre, didn't he? What scares you most about that? Was it the death of your husband? The uprooting of your family? Or was it that the walls of your safe little world would have come tumbling down in a flash?"

"...I'm not going to answer that."

My mind laughed, nastily, "Yeah, and we both know why. Tell me; what did Laura Barton 1.0 do with her life? Let's be honest; the most interesting thing you ever did was get murdered by an alien maniac."

"Are you saying I wasted my life?"

"I'm saying that you wasted your potential. Maybe the reason you've been given a second chance is to correct that mistake. Maybe Laura Barton 2.0 doesn't have to be the insular, stay-at-home wife. Maybe she could even be the heroine. Who knows?"

"Now you sound like Thera."

"If I do, that's because you have more in common with him then you'd like to admit."

Both Coop and I remained quiet for the rest of the journey home, and as soon as we got in he said that he was going up to his room. While I really, really wanted to talk to him about what had gone on between him and Thera, I also knew that it would probably be better to let him come talk to me when I was ready. Instead, I wandered through to the kitchen, where Clint was chopping vegetables so quickly and furiously that it was clear something was up. As I came in, he looked up and gave me a broad, relieved smile that made me feel a little weak at the knees.

"Laura!" he said, "You were...gone a while."

"Hi, hon," I said, and gave him a quick kiss as I went to hang up my bag. "One second; this thing weighs a ton. You've gotten dinner started, I see."

"I...well," Clint looked a little abashed, and I looked suspiciously around the corner to see the better part of a week's supply of carrots, onions, and peppers peeled, chopped and separated into neat little piles, "I...may have overdone it."

"You, um, you don't say," I blinked, "Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm okay," he said, and sighed, "I was...I got nervous with you being gone. Sorry."

"That's okay," I said, and touched him gently on the arm, "We haven't had a good salad for ages, and we can freeze the rest for another time. Can you go dig out the olive oil?"

"Sure," he said, and headed over to the larder, "Where's Coop? How did it go?"

"He didn't say," I said, "Thera seemed happy, though - insofar as he's ever seemed happy. Met his fiancee, too."

There was a telltale 'clink' and then, "Oh, yeah?"

"She's nice. A little...offbeat, but nice. I'm taking her to see an art exhibition at some point."

"You're not into art," Clint said, and gave me a quizzical look.

"No, but she is," I said, "And I think she needs a friend. I can't imagine it's entirely easy only having Thera to talk to."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea, Laura. I talked to Fury while you were gone…" he trailed off, and looked in the direction of the living room, "...actually, we'll talk about that later."

"Trouble?"

"Maybe," he said, and handed me the olive oil, "It's a bit strange, really."

"Thanks; can you grab the feta from the fridge?"

"Sure," he said. As he passed my bag, he paused and then did a full-on double take, "Laura - why is my phone tap in your bag?"

"Excuse me?" I said, and looked up, "I thought it seemed a bit heavier than normal."

"You didn't check it when you got it back?" Clint looked genuinely surprised, "Laura-"

"Okay! I'm sorry!" I said, "Do you really think they're the sort to-"

"We don't know what sort they are!" he said, in a suddenly forceful tone, "They could have put anything in your bag. There could be anything in here!"

"I don't think so," I said calmly, "Thera tried to recruit me; you don't normally try to kill people you want to recruit!"

"He did what?" Clint looked at me sharply, "What did you say?"

"Well, recruit is a strong word - he asked me if I had thought about being a counsellor," I clarified, "And I said...no. I can't; not with anything going on right now."

"Okay," he looked relieved, but only slightly. Carefully, he reached into the bag and retrieved the phone tap. Someone had tied a note to it with an elastic band, but aside from that it looked completely undamaged.

"Nothing else in there?" Clint asked, and I peered carefully into the interior of my bag. Everything else seemed to be in its proper place, and I shook my head in answer, "Good. Let's see what this note says, shall we?"

Moving carefully, Clint cut the elastic band with the tip of a knife, and then picked up the note with the blade and removed it from the phone tap. Apparently satisfied that nothing nasty was about to happen, he unfolded the note and laid it out on the kitchen surface. As it turned out, it was just a couple of lines written in neat, easily readable cursive:

Roses are red

Violets are ace

If I see this again

I'll shoot you in the face

Love, Viola

P.S. In deference to Laura, I'll probably actually just shoot you in the groin. I'll even use a rubber round!

P.P.S. Learn to read phone line circuit diagrams. You tapped the wrong line.

"So...I guess they worked out who that phone tap belonged to, right?" I said, eventually, "You would've thought they'd have said something when I was there!"

"Why would they when they could play games like this?" Clint said angrily, and he snatched up the piece of paper, "I mean...how smug is this damn note? How-"

"Hold on, hon," I said suddenly, "There's something else written on the back. Look; there's even a picture."

Clint paused, and then flipped the paper over. On the back there was indeed a small, black and white picture of a middle aged, balding man with spectacles. He was wearing a simple button down shirt, with a badge on his lapel that bore the familiar logo of Stark Industries. Next to the photo was written a small list, in the same neat cursive as the note taunting Clint. 'Peter Bulgakov', '#273-001', 'Helix International', 'Blipped', 'One daughter', 'Phoenix'. The last word was both circled and underlined twice.

"Phoenix?" Clint said, a moment later, "That's what was written in that notepad you found. Maybe this Bulgakov guy knows something."

"Or we're just being played."

"You know what? I'm not sure," he said, "It's possible she was in such a rush to flip me off that she didn't check what was on the other side of the paper she grabbed."

"Do you really believe that?"

"No address," Clint ignored me, and turned the paper over again to be sure, "But he is a Stark Industries employee. I bet we could find out where he's living."

"After dinner, and after the kids have gone to bed," I said firmly, "Besides, you need to tell me what you found out from Fury."

"Yeah, sure," he said, and the skin tightened a little around his eyes, "But I'm not sure you're going to like it."