Chapter Ten: A Matter of Pride

Once we'd made sure that everything was stable, Clint went to find Kostas and, presumably, some half-decent coffee. While I appreciated the short break, being stuck alone in a desolate little room with a nearly lifeless man quickly became unnerving, and I found myself pacing up and down, shivering despite the warmth.

On the bright side, Thera didn't seem to mind. He hadn't moved or made a sound since being placed in the recovery position, and his breathing was slow, calm, and steady. His tranquil expression, however, seemed strangely wrong on a face that was so often lined with anxiety, irritation, or concern, and I briefly wondered what was going on behind those eyelids.

"Or, y'know, what's going on under that hat," my mind suggested, treacherously, "I mean, c'mon; he's wearing one hideous beanie after another. Why? Did he shave it as a bet? He could have terrible hat hair, like when Cooper wore that baseball cap for three weeks straight!"

"That doesn't seem right," I muttered, "He's out cold!"

"Go on - just a peek. You know you're curious."

"I'm curious about lots of things," I pointed out, "Like what was going on between him and Strange? They really didn't like each other."

"Did you like Strange?"

"Not really, but I also wouldn't throw down the gauntlet with him," I pointed out, "Thera didn't even hesitate."

"Half addled with tiredness? Shaken by the torture? Angry at being blackmailed? Take your pick. Also, the fact he collapsed barely five minutes later means he probably wasn't exactly thinking clearly."

"I suppose," I sighed, and threw myself down on a nearby chair. My legs and backside squealed in protest, and I could already start to feel the stiffness setting in in my hamstrings.

"Keep that up and he's not the only one who'll collapse. A woman of your age brawling in the street? You could've at least stretched first."

"And I wish you'd go away," I said, and rapped my fist against the side of my head,"I thought the endless nitpicking had died with mom!"

"Please. If you didn't keep a little bit of her around to remind yourself of your inadequacies, you might actually accomplish something. Isn't that a scary thought?"

"I have accomplished something! Lots of things!"

"We've been over this, kiddo. Anyway, your phone's ringing and I'm not your damn PA."

With a sigh, I pulled out my buzzing phone and saw Thera's area code displayed proudly on the top. Quickly, I swiped right and was not entirely surprised to hear Vi's rapid fire speech come babbling down the line.

"Laura? Is that you?" she said, "I've just got in and found a message from Kostas that you were at the Blip Centre, but now nobody's answering the front desk and I can't get ahold of Thera. Is he there? I need to speak to him."

"He's here, Vi," I said, and tried to keep my voice as calm as possible, "Um…"

"'Um…?' Can you put him on?"

"Not exactly," I said, and winced at every word, "He kind of...collapsed."

"Collapsed."

"Um...yes. It was really sudden, too. Like he'd just had his strings cut."

From the other end of the line there was a long, deep breath. When Vi returned, her voice was clipped, crisp, and coldly professional.

"Is he breathing?"

"Yes."

"Are his eyes open?"

"No."

"Is he moving at all? Is he making any sounds?"

"No, uh…" I paused, and listened hard, "No. None."

"Has he eaten anything? Has he drunk anything?"

"Not that I've seen, Vi."

"Hmm," Vi sounded unhappy, "Was he acting strange in any way beforehand? Mood swings? Extreme reactions?"

"Yes!" I said, and then moderated my tone, "I mean...yes. I think so, anyway."

"Explain."

"I, uh…" I faltered, a little taken aback by how different her speech was, "It might be better if I just tell you everything that's happened."

"Please do."

Vi remained largely silent while I provided a rundown of the morning's events, and interrupted only twice to get clarity on what Thera had said or done. While I spoke, Clint returned carrying two steaming cups of coffee, one of which he placed on the table next to me while he went to squat next to the unconscious therapist.

"-and then he just collapsed. Like I said, a puppet with his strings cut," I concluded, "Oh, and then you rang."

"Thank you, Laura," Vi said, "One moment, please."

There was a rumbling noise that sounded suspiciously like someone covering the speaker with their hand, and then there came the muffled sounds of loud, inventive cursing on the other end of the line.

"Sorry about that," she said, a short while later, "Okay. Firstly, Thera is not in any immediate danger. What you're dealing with there is a reaction to prolonged and extreme physical and emotional stress. Basically, his body can't take anymore and it's...shut down, so to speak. As long as he's kept cool and allowed to rest, he'll probably wake up in about four or five days."

"Four to five days?" I exclaimed. Clint nodded in the background.

"Assuming nothing happens that might prolong that," Vi said, "He'll be groggy as hell for a couple of days after that, but he'll be back to normal within a week."

"That's crazy," I said, "I've heard of fainting from stress, but never anything like this."

"Hey," Clint said, in a slightly hurt tone, "I literally just told you about Wanda."

"Okay, except Wanda."

"You probably wouldn't've," Vi said, "It's quite rare. In fact, the only people I know who are affected by this are Thera and his twin."

"So it's genetic?"

"Ah...hmm. Not exactly," she paused, and then said forcefully, "Damnit! I knew I should have come with him! I knew this was going to happen!"

"You did?"

"Yeah; the Blip really shook him up," she said, "He basically hasn't slept since it happened, and whatever sleep he has had has been filled with nightmares. I thought I could keep it under control, but now this? Sodding hell."

"I had no idea," I said, "I'm really sorry. I didn't-"

"You wouldn't have known, and he wouldn't have told you," Vi said, and then added in a mocking tone, "After all, why would he take care of himself when there's all these poor little lost sheep in need?"

"That seems a bit unfair," I said, "He's just trying to help!"

"That's the point, Laura," she said, her voice now rising in anger, "He's always just trying. He's trying to be a bloody white knight! If it's not you guys, it's your son. If it's not your son, it's the Blip Centre. If it's not the Blip Centre, it'll be the whole goddamn planet! He just doesn't stop - he can't stop, and I'm always the one picking up the bloody pieces."

"I know, Vi, and I'm sorry," I said calmly, "But right now you need to tell us you want us to do with him. We can bring him back to you, if you want, or we could leave him in the Blip Centre with Kostas-"

"No," she said, in the same tight voice, "Do not leave him at the Blip Centre. I'd rather you leave him in a ditch at the side of the road than at that madhouse."

Clint, who was apparently close enough to catch that last statement, suddenly had a contemplative look on his face. I bit my lip to keep from laughing.

"Okay," I said, "We'll bring him back to you. Just one question, though."

There was an irritated sigh, "Shoot."

"What's the deal with Strange calling him 'Sparky', and why did he get so annoyed by it?"

"Sparky is my nickname for him," Vi said, "'Cause when we were growing up he always wanted to be an electrician, see? Nobody else calls him that; not even his sister."

"So…"

"So if Strange knows about it, then he must have seen us together when he was out touring all those alternate realities," Vi went on, "I can see why Spar-Thera might not've liked the implications of that."

"What are the implications of that."

"For us? Nothing good," she said, "For you? Nothing."

"That doesn't seem fair," I said, "We've earned a straight answer!"

"And I'd be the first to agree with you," said Vi, "But as I bet you're now painfully aware, life isn't fair. Maybe at some point when this is all over I'll sit you down and go over everything in detail, but I wouldn't hold my breath."

"But you want us to trust you and Sparky-"

"-Thera," Vi corrected primly, "Let's not get too familiar here."

"Okay, fine - but how can we trust you if you're not being honest?"

"Because we're being honest about when we're lying, Laura!" she snapped suddenly, "We aren't skulking around using phone taps and high-altitude video cameras to keep tabs on you!"

I gave Clint a surprised look, and received one in return.

"Ah, hmm," I said, "Okay. Point taken."

"Thank you," Vi said. If she was aware of what she had just revealed, she didn't show it, "Please bring Thera back to the warehouse, and I'll deal with him here."

"Are you sure we shouldn't just take him to the hospital?"

"They wouldn't know what to do with him, and they might just make things worse," Vi said, "And let's be honest; I'd hate for him to die before I had the opportunity to kill him myself. Metaphorically speaking, I mean."

"If you say so," I said, "Talk to you soon."

"Okay. Out."

The line went dead with a 'click', and I gave Clint an exasperated look.

"She sounded happy," he remarked.

"Yeah, and not so much as a damn 'thank you'," I said, "Maybe we should just leave him in a ditch somewhere."

"I know just the one," Clint said, "Nice 'n' deep, out of the way...pretty tempting, doncha think?"

"Sure, except for the bit where the clearly-about-to-blow bodyguard fiancee tracks us down and kills us."

"I reckon I could take her."

"I'm sure you could, hon," I said, "But then we'd have Strange on our case for messing up whatever 'mystical' scheme he's got going on, so…"

"I s'pose," he said, "Anyway, I'm going to bring the car 'round. Let's drop him off at their warehouse and then head into town. The sooner we're clear of all of this, the better."

"Agreed," I took a quick sip of the coffee, and grimaced, "Jesus, Clint, this coffee is terrible."

"I know, right?" he said, with a cheeky grin, "No wonder this place is a mess."

"You knew? And you still gave it to me?" I slapped him lightly on the shoulder, "You...you jerk!"

"Ah, you've called me worse," he said, and scrambled away from the follow-up slap, "I'll go grab the car. Make sure Thera here doesn't go anywhere, okay?"

"Gee, are you sure I'm up to that?" I said tartly, "I mean, it's a big responsibility."

Whatever Clint muttered under his breath, it was hidden by the click of the door as he grabbed it and yanked it open. As he stepped outside something clearly grabbed his attention, and for a moment he stood there staring at the sky with a faintly stunned look on his face.

"Clint?" I said, "You okay, honey?"

"Yeah," he said, although his tone was distant, "Come and look at this, will you? Tell me I'm not just seeing things."

Quickly, I scrambled to my feet and joined him at the door.

"Look," he said, and pointed to the sky. The storm clouds overhead were still an inky black, malevolent maelstrom, and I struggled to see what had gotten him so shocked.

"I'm...not seeing-" I stopped. In the darkness, a small, but brilliant blue speck had winked into existence. A moment later, it was joined by another speck, this one gold, and together they glimmered like stars within the murky clouds. More appeared, and then more and more, twisting and merging together, growing in size and brightness as they swirled towards the shelf to form a radiant halo of blue and gold.

"My goodness," I said. Clint's jaw had dropped.

The halo began to contract. It was slow at first, but steadily picked up speed as it collapsed towards the centre of the storm. Storm clouds simply evaporated before it, and in its wake it left a coruscating shower of sparks as it raced inwards, glowing brighter and brighter until it hurt to look at-

-and then, with a loud whump and a rush of air that rattled the containers and rocked me back on my heels, the heart of the tempest exploded outwards in a glittering shower of light that hung in the air like a blue-gold flower. Slowly, it began to flicker and fade, leaving in its wake a clear, azure sky. Within moments there was no sign that the storm had ever been.

"Jesus," Clint said quietly, and added, "What was Strange talking about, exactly?"

"That the storm wasn't natural," I said, "I guess that kind of proves it, right?"

"I mean, I'm convinced," he said, "I've never seen anything like it."

"I wonder why they turned it off," I mused, and caught Clint's expression, "The storm, I mean. If you can make a storm like that, why would you - and then why would you stop? Boredom?"

"Maybe they felt like they made their point? I mean, it got Strange's attention, and it stopped just after he left."

"That's good, though. Strange wants whatever's doing it to stop," I said, "He's...kind of blackmailed Thera into dealing with it for him."

"Thera," Clint said flatly, "He's asked Thera to stop the thing that just did that?"

"Well, talk to it," I said, and then added, "I tried to get you the contract, but-"

"No no no, that's not the point," Clint said, "The point is that he asked Thera. What else did they say?"

"You mean when they weren't threatening each other? There was a point when I thought Thera was about to clean Strange's clock."

"...I don't like this," Clint said, firmly, "This feels like it's getting entirely too hot for my liking. It was okay when we were just dealing with Thera and...Violeta?"

"Viola."

"Yeah, but Strange? Whatever's generating this storm? That ain't part of my job description."

"What do you want to do, then?" I said quietly, "And what about that whole 'Phoenix' thing?"

"I reckon we make it Strange's problem. If he knows Thera like you said, then we'll let the good doctor keep an eye on him. We can always lend a hand if he asks - but we ain't going up against something that can do what we just saw. That's madness."

"You took on Thanos."

"I had a bit of help," he said, with just a hint of false modesty, "Like an army of aliens, supersoldiers, and actual gods. I don't know about you, I don't see any of those camping out anywhere around here."

"I thought you said they just stood around and cheered you on," I smiled, "Y'know, while you punched him clean across the state."

"That's the story I'll be telling our grandchildren, alright," he said, "And I'd...kind of like to be alive enough to tell them that story. Staying involved with this now it's escalated like it has? It's suicide."

"You're...you're right, of course," I said, "It just - well, it feels like we came this far, and to go home now and not find out what's actually going on? It kind of leaves a bad taste in my mouth."

"I know, hon," Clint smiled crookedly, "Until today it was kinda fun, too. Maybe we should go into the mystery solving business."

"Sounds good. When we get home you can solve the Mystery of Why The Dishes Never Get Put Away, but for now we'd better get Thera out of here. Any moment now people're going to start poking their heads out of their containers, and they might just object to us kidnapping their resident doormat."

"Yeah, point taken," he said, "I'll go get the car."

After Clint had gone, I stood on the doorstep staring disbelievingly at the sky. As much as I hated the idea of giving up and going home, I had to admit that he was right. Stalking Thera and Vi had been...fun, in its own strange way, and for the most part it had seemed pretty harmless. Irritating, maybe, and possibly kicking in that door had been a step too far, but for the past couple of weeks it'd felt like I had been given a door into the part of Clint's life that had previously seemed so far away. An exciting double life filled with high-tech gadgets, deception, and kicking in doors had its appeal, and until today I hadn't given a second thought to returning to a life involving tile grout and floor wax.

But then, there was today. My encounter with Caleb had poured cold water on any idea of this being 'fun'. Thanks to that sadist, Clint had been hurt, I had been hurt, and Thera had been reduced to an emotional wreck and then a comatose heap on the floor. We had been lucky, too; he could've simply murdered us in cold blood, there in the street.

No, the game was over. I had responsibilities. I had three amazing children, and there was no way I was going to risk my life and their happiness just to get another adrenaline fix. Besides, I desperately needed to reseal the ensuite bathroom, before five years of mold buildup made it unusable…

Before I could think on it any further, I was shaken from my reverie by the sounds of tyres on gravel, and a moment later our car came crunching around the corner, gleaming wetly in the noonday sun. Clint parked up as close to the walkway as he could and motioned me over.

"'Forgot about the kids seats," he said, a little apologetically, "Reckon we can prop him up in the back? 'Cause otherwise we might actually need to put him in the trunk."

"I'm not turning up at Vi's with him in the trunk, Clint," I said firmly. He sighed, and rolled his eyes.

"Didn't reckon so," he said, and smiled, "It was worth a short. Anyway-"

Somehow, and with a fairly large number of false starts, we managed to lift Thera's limp, surprisingly heavy frame onto a table, which we then carried outside as a makeshift stretcher. The shifting ground underfoot made it hard going, and I was already sweating by the time we managed to half-lift, half drag him into an available back seat. From there, actually strapping him in was a comparatively simple matter, so I left that to Clint while I went to relax my aching muscles in the passenger seat. After a couple of muttered curse words I heard a distinctive 'click', and then my husband got back behind the wheel.

"Right. Let's get out of here," he said shortly, "I think I've had enough of this place for...well, ever."

"Me too," I said, although I felt bad as I said it, "Whatever else, I can't imagine actually being stuck here."

"Yeah," Clint sighed, and fell silent. Gently, I reached across and patted him on the leg.

"It will be okay, hon," I said, echoing my earlier reassurance, "It will."

My husband remained silent as he carefully manoeuvred his way back to the front of the Blip Centre. With a grinding clang, the doors slowly slid open, and as soon as we were through the airlock Clint put the pedal to the metal. The world blurred, and then we were gliding down the highway towards the distant warehouse, leaving the mess of tarpaulins and glistening containers far behind us.

Beside me I felt the tension draining out of my husband's muscles, but the silence still felt...significant. Looking over, I could tell from the tightness around his eyes and jaw that he was thinking something over, but wasn't really sure how to broach it. Before, I might have let it lie, but by now I had had enough of leaving things to fester in the shadows.

"What is it, hon?" I said, quietly, "Are you okay?"

"Huh?" he said, "Oh...I was just thinking."

"About what?" I pressed, gently but firmly, "You know you can tell me anything."

"I know," he said, and gave me an affectionate smile, "It's nothing serious. It's kind of silly, really."

"Yeah?" I was relieved; I hadn't really been up for another unpleasant revelation, "Like how silly?"

"Well…" he gestured behind us, "I was just thinkin' about those poor guys back there in the Blip Centre, and how I didn't see that coming. But I didn't see any of this coming."

"What'd'ya mean?"

"It might sound stupid, but I thought that if we succeeded, everything would've gone back to how it was before - y'know, five years ago," he shrugged, "D'ya know what made me realise how...huge our victory was?"

"Seeing the kids?" I said, then added with maybe a touch of narcissism, "Seeing me?"

"Nope!" he said, and then caught my raised eyebrow, "Babe, seein' you come running across that field was like something out of a dream - but that's what I wanted to happen. You comin' back was part of the deal."

"Okay," I said, "So what was it?"

"Guess," he said, a little cheekily, "It's in this car."

"Um…" I looked around, but didn't see anything obvious, "The air freshener?"

"Nope."

"The...satnav?"

"Nope!"

I looked over my shoulder, "Not Thera, surely."

"Are you kidding?" Clint grinned wryly, "If I knew he was part of the package I'd've let Thanos win."

"Then...our clothes? The radio? This receipt?" I held the last one up for his inspection, and he shook his head, "Then I don't know!"

"Oh c'mon," he said, "You were lookin' right at them!"

"Them...them…" my gaze alighted on the kids seats, and something clicked in my head, "You mean the seats? Really?"

"Bingo!"

"But...why? Because you had your family back?"

"Close, but not quite," he paused, as if not quite sure how to put his thoughts into words, "When I went to go buy this car, there were a load of people there. Some of them'd obviously Blipped, and were looking for a new car because their old one had been stolen, or had rusted, or broken down - y'know what I mean. But you know what really got me?"

"What?"

"The families. There were five or six of them, all buyin' kids seats, and you could just tell from their faces that they were walking on air. The salespeople could've sold them those seats at any price and they would've paid it, 'cause it meant that they were parents again,'' he smiled gently, and I could see the tears forming in the corners of his eyes, "I remember there was this one woman who was crying and laughing the entire time I was there. The rest of her family must've Blipped, 'cause she was holding onto her partner and her son like she was never going to let 'em go. I'm telling you, watching her was like watching the sun come up."

I gave him a broad smile, but said nothing.

"It was just...overwhelming," he continued, "There was all this happiness and joy all around me, and I was thinking 'Wow, Clint. Look at what you and the guys pulled off. Laura would've been really proud of you!', and you know what? That's when it hit me. That's the moment that I realised that you weren't just a memory anymore."

"That's lovely, Clint," I said, sincerely, "It really is."

"Not sure the saleswoman thought so," he said, and winced, "One moment, she was selling me a car. Next, I was bawling on the floor like a baby."

"It was probably a pretty crazy day for her all around," I pointed out, "But you know what? I am proud of you. More than I can say."

"I know," he said, "But...I just want everyone to feel like how that woman at the car dealership was feeling, y'know? It doesn't feel right, leaving those guys at the Blip Centre to rot while others get to celebrate and…"

"...buy kid's seats?" I said, "I know, and this is kinda what Thera was going on about. The Avengers have done their flashy bit and saved the universe, but what happens now? Who gets the power back on when you guys have finished kicking ass? Who puts the broken families back together?"

"I don't know," Clint said, "I wouldn't even know where to start."

"Me either," I admitted, and glanced at the limp figure in the back, "But I think he does, and I'm pretty sure that's what he was trying to tell me."

Vi was waiting for us when we pulled into the parking lot. She was standing in the shade of the warehouse, next to a half-built table-tennis table which she'd wheeled out to serve as a makeshift stretcher. Her expression was hidden in shadow, but even at a distance the anger and tension seemed to shimmer around her.

"Oh ho; somebody's not happy," Clint said, as we pulled up, "We'd better watch ourselves."

"Let me do the talking," I said, "Maybe I can calm her down."

"You can't calm someone down who doesn't want to be calmed down."

"We'll see," I said, and opened the car door, "Hi, Vi."

"Laura," she greeted me. Her tone was pleasant enough, but I could feel the emotions roiling directly underneath, "Can you help me get my prize idiot onto this table? I need to get him inside."

"Sure thing," I said, "I mean, he's kinda heavy-"

"-I'll lift, you steer," she said. Moving quickly, but carefully, we managed to lever Thera out of the car and onto the stretcher, where she laid him down flat on his back and produced a torch from her belt. Quickly and professionally, she opened each eyelid in turn and examined the pupil with her torch. I wasn't sure what she was looking for, but from her expression she wasn't happy with the result.

"Classic burnout," she muttered to herself, and slammed a hand down on the stretcher, "Bollocks! Bollocks bollocks bollocks!"

"Will he be okay?" I said, anxiously.

"That depends on whether or not I bloody murder him when he wakes up," she said grimly, "I thought we were past this bullshit! Damnit, Sparky!"

"Are you okay?" I asked. She shot me a look filled with anger, but underneath the facade I could see the pain and guilt churning away inside. Her emotional state was at a fever pitch, and it was amazing that she was even as controlled as she was.

"Me? I'm fine!" she said, icily, "Why would I be anything other than okay? I mean, sure, I got murdered just months before my wedding, I've been dumped in this heap called 'Missouri', and the love of my life is a goddamn martyr! What do I have to worry about? It's clear blue skies from here on out!"

"Vi, c'mon-" I began.

"Oh, don't 'c'mon' me," she continued, in the same frozen tones, "Do you want to know why we're living in this warehouse in the middle of nowhere, Laura?" It's not 'cause I want to live here. It's 'cause this idiot wouldn't last a week at the Blip Centre before he'd destroy himself, compulsively helping everyone into a hole in the ground! You saw how they were with him, right?"

I exchanged a quick look with Clint, who gave me a nonplussed shrug in return.

"They...were looking to him for help?" I ventured.

"That's a nice way of putting it," she snorted, "They practically depend on him to make the sun come up, but that's exactly how he wants it! That's how he's arranged it! He needs to be needed, and that Blip Centre is like a bloody dream come true!"

"I think you're being kinda harsh here, Vi," I said. Despite myself, I was beginning to feel anger stirring inside of me, "I'm pretty sure he hasn't arranged anything-"

"Oh yeah?" she challenged, "Then where's the Army? Where's the help? I've checked; other Blip Centres are staffed up to the nines, and what do we have? Nothing!"

I exchanged a quick look with Clint, who gave me a nonplussed shrug in return.

"He...was asking someone to raise 'Central', if I remember," I said, "They weren't having any luck."

"Of course not," she said, "How hard do you think they've actually been trying? Wouldn't want to disappoint him."

"Vi-" I stopped. There wasn't anything I could say that wouldn't either be twisted to support her rant, or simply ignored outright. I'd seen this kind of mood enough times to know; hell, recently I'd seen it plenty of times in myself.

"I got him out. I had to get him out," she went on, "But we had a deal! He'd only go there a couple of times a week, and we'd spent the rest of the time attempting to get back on our feet. Of course, no sooner is my back turned than he sodding breaks that promise and goes haring off down there-"

"They rang him!"

"Of course they did!" she said sharply, "They always ring him!"

"There were poisoned children!" I added, "Did you really expect him to just say 'no'?"

"Why not call an ambulance?" Vi retorted hotly, "I'll tell you why - because when he does everything, they expect him to do everything! Why not leave it all to him?"

"Maybe if he actually asked for help-" I stopped, but it was too late.

"You mean like he asked you for help?" she said, caustically, "Remind me, Laura; what was it that you said?"

I winced internally, but I could feel the anger building further, "I have a family! We have our own problems!"

"What, and we don't?" Viola all but snarled, all pretence at civility gone, "You know what? Sparky was right; when trouble crops up you run back to your little castle, pull up the drawbridge, and tell the world that it's not your problem and that 'everything'll get better'! Go on, tell me I'm wrong - because here's the thing, sweetie; things don't get better when you ignore them, or hide from them. They get worse. Much, much worse."

"So-"

"You can do what you want, of course," she continued, "But which sap are you going to call the next time some kids get poisoned? Who are you going to call once that guy's been burned out and tossed away? How long are you going to play Laura Barton: Super Spy with the Comic Relief Avenger until you actually come out and start living in the real world?"

"Hey!" Clint's head appeared on the other side of the car, and he glared at the ranting woman, "You better take that back-"

"Or what, Hawkeye?" Viola returned his glare, and then her expression turned scornful, "What else do you call someone who doesn't clean up after themselves?"

"Hey!" I shouted, coming to Clint's defence, "That's not fair!"

"Isn't it?" she retorted, "All this chaos, the Blip Centres, the orphaned children, even Sparky here! You know why it happened?"

"Because of Thanos!"

"Thanos was an inevitability," she waved it aside, "If not him, then somebody would've eventually tried the same thing! The trouble is, the people we all depended on stopping him, that group of 'remarkable people'? They actually turned out to be a bunch of prima donnas who couldn't mount an effective defence if the universe depended on it!" she snapped her fingers, and added, "Oh, wait - it did. How unfortunate."

"You ungrateful son of a-" Clint paused, but his eyes were bulging dangerously. Vi either didn't see, or didn't care.

"Oh, it's not your fault, Hawkeye. This wasn't a job for the second-string Avengers," she said, in a rather patronising tone, "I mean do you really think you and that toy bow of yours would've made a difference? If you did, then where were you?"

"I was under house arrest!"

"Oh, I am sorry," Vi sneered, "Next time a call goes out to save the universe I guess I'll have to stay back until I've paid off my overdue library books. Are you mad?"

"You wouldn't know what saving the universe looks like!"

"Neither would you! You only turned up for the playoffs!"

"Enough!" I shouted, loud enough that I was sure I'd wake up Thera, "Enough."

There was a long, tense pause, and for a moment I genuinely thought that Vi and Clint were going to come to blows.

"Vi," I said, in a cold, quiet voice, "I get that you're upset about Thera, and about being here, and...everything that's happened to you. But-" I held up my hand as she tried to speak, "-I will not let you speak to my husband that way. He's one of the only reasons we're even here! And that group of 'prima donnas'? They died for us! Nat died for us! I mean, how can you stand here and be so dismissive of them after everything they've done?"

Viola had no response to that; in fact, I was surprised that she suddenly seemed to be unable to meet my gaze.

"And let's be honest, Vi," I continued, emboldened by her response, "If you're so amazing, why was I the one who had to bring down Caleb? Why did Thera end up with this knife wound right up his arm and get shot at twice if you, his wonder fiancee, are such an amazing bodyguard?"

That hit home, and I felt a slight twinge of regret as I saw her eyes flicker guiltily to her unconscious partner. Even so, I was still too mad to stop myself from twisting the knife that little bit further.

"We didn't fail Thera, Vi," I said, "Neither Clint nor I promised to protect him, or support him, or stop him from going too far - but you know what? We tried our damndest to do so anyway! Clint stopped Caleb from shooting at him, we tried to keep him calm when he was freaking the hell out, and I stood up to a damn Master of the Mystic Arts so Thera could get some damn shuteye! I could've been turned into a frog! If anyone's failed him here, it's you...and I think you know it."

"Sod you!" she snapped suddenly, but I could hear the wobble in her voice, and saw that her eyes were already starting to glisten, "Sod both of you."

"Yeah. I think we're done, Vi," I said, firmly, "I don't know what you, Thera, and Strange are involved in, and we don't know what this whole 'Phoenix' thing is that you've got going on, but we don't want any part of it. You go do your thing, and we'll do ours. Clint?"

"...yeah?" he said, a little warily.

"We're going," I said, and went back to the car, "Goodbye, Vi - and you're welcome."

Vi stood numbly, staring between Thera and our car with a shocked expression on her face. With a cold shrug, I sat down and swung the door closed behind me..

"Wait-!" she said, suddenly, but the car door shut with a very final 'click'. Clint started the car, and we quickly rolled out of the parking lot back towards the main road. In the wing mirror I watched the forlorn woman watch us leave; small, lost, and almost completely alone.

"Screw 'em," Clint growled, and put his foot down hard on the accelerator, "Screw 'em both."

With a lurch the car leapt forwards, and she was lost to view.

It was fair to say that our bust-up with Vi cast a pall over our trip into town, and we completed the rest of the trip in silence. I could feel the anger rushing through my veins, raw, red, and powered by pure wounded self-righteousness. I'd never been spoken to like that before, by anyone, and I was damned if I was going to waste any more time on a half-crazed woman living out of a warehouse with her equally crazed fiancee. As far as I was concerned, Vi and I were done. If I never saw those two again it would be too soon, and whatever schemes they were concocting could be damn well left for Strange to deal with.

Still, if I was angry then Clint was furious in a way that I'd rarely seen before. His shoulders were bunched up, as tense as a drum, and his jaw was working constantly as he turned some choice phrases over and over in his mind. I patted him consolingly on the leg, and gave him a look that conveyed both my sympathy and anger at the same time. Nothing more needed to be said.

By the time we reached town my anger had started to lessen. Not by much, of course; I was still fuming, but at least I was able to think straight. From the way Clint jerked us to a stop and slammed his hand down on the parking brake, I guessed he still had a ways to go before he even reached that point.

"Comic Relief Avenger?" he snarled, once the car had finished juddering in protest, "Comic Relief Avenger? That bitch!"

"I know!" I agreed vigorously, "She had no right-"

"And my 'toy bow'?" he went on, "I didn't spend my whole life training to be a damn marksman to be mocked by some arrogant upstart who thinks that she's some kind of one woman army!"

"And I can't believe she actually said those things to our faces!" I said, "Who the hell calls someone 'sweetie' in this day and age?"

"You know what? I reckon I should go back there and show her just what me and that 'toy bow' can do," he said, "She can look after Thera with just one hand, right?"

"No, hon," I said. I might have been furious, but that still sounded like a terrible idea, "I think we should just try and forget about them and move on with our lives. Let's just leave them to their madness."

"Yeah, you're right," he said, with a little sneer, "She ain't worth the arrow, anyway."

We sat quietly for a little while, and I watched as the tension slowly drained from my husband's shoulders. Eventually, he turned to me and gave me a weak smile.

"Sorry," he said, "I dunno how she got me so angry, but-"

"I know," I said, and exhaled slowly, "How'd she get under our skins like that?"

"By being angry, ungrateful, arrogant, and dismissive?" Clint shrugged, "Take your pick."

"True," I said, "Okay, Clint; remember why we're here. We need to grab some scrapbooking stuff for the kids, and also some gas for the...other thing. Do you think you can get the gas? I know the kind of stuff Lila likes."

"Sparkles and glitter?" he said, and laughed, "I'm not sure that's really how Nat'd like to be remembered."

"It's not for Nat," I pointed out, "Not really, anyway. Besides, you know that she loved everything that the kids made for her, no matter how sparkly or glittery it was. How long did she keep Coop's thumb pot for?"

"Until it went down with the helicarrier," Clint smiled, "Yeah, you're right. Of course you're right."

"Always," I said, "So you can get the gas, then?"

"Yeah, but...what's the rush?" he said, "I reckon I'd rather spend some time with you."

"That's sweet, Clint," I said, "But you hate craft stores!"

"What're you talking about?" he said, "I love looking at chintzy, overpriced crap! Scented candles are totally my jam!"

"Totally your…'jam'?" I raised an eyebrow, and he had the good sense to look embarrassed.

"I, uh, may have heard Coop saying that on the phone," he admitted, "But I'm good at crafting things! 'Sides, for all you know I could've taken up flower arranging or something while you were Blipped."

"Flower arranging?" I smirked, "It's a miracle you were even able to dress yourself, hon."

"What can I say? There was a lot of velcro involved," Clint spread his hands, "Anyway, let's go and see your friend about some glitter."

With a smile, I hopped out of the car - and stopped. My breath caught in my throat as I looked up and down the length of Main Street, and I felt momentarily dizzy and disorientated. Everything had changed.

Ever since I'd been coming here, there had been five little shops standing near the fountain; a baker, a greengrocer, a cobbler, a butchers, and an electronics shop. They were gone; two of the fronts were boarded up and empty, while the remaining three were now a large supermarket. The fountain, previously the centerpiece and pride of the town, was now silent, and still.

A sick feeling settled in the pit of my stomach as I looked around wildly for an anchor, any sign of the place that I used to know. I found none; just more boarded up fronts or shops that I'd never seen before, looming over cracked paving slabs and a pitted road. The town felt...smaller, sadder somehow, and there was an air of decay that hung over the deserted street and sighed mournfully through the unkempt trees.

The world whirled, my legs buckled and I would have fallen but for Clint, who caught me and gently lowered me to the ground.

"What happened here?" I whispered. My lip was trembling uncontrollably.

"What happened everywhere, babe," my husband said, and pulled me into for a gentle hug, "When Thanos snapped his fingers...when you all died, life just kind of went out of the world. People've gone to the bigger cities..."

"But I was only here last month!" I protested, and then the sickness turned to ice, "I mean- oh my god..."

"I know," he said, softly, "I'm sorry."

"I…we…" my mouth opened and shut uselessly, and I suddenly found it very difficult to breathe, "Clint-"

"It's okay, Laura," he said, in the same soft tones, "It's okay."

A deep, wracking sob wrenched itself from my throat, and the tears were suddenly streaming down my face. I threw my arms around my husband's neck and buried my face in his shoulder as I wailed and wept for the lost town. His arms tightened around me, tender and comforting, and I could hear him murmuring something over and over in a kindly voice.

Eventually the tears ran dry. I released my death-grip on Clint's shoulder blades and sat back against the car. He followed suit, wiping at his eyes as he did so.

"Shit," I said eventually, "This is shit, Clint! If I close my eyes, I can just see how it used to be. There was that shop over there-" I pointed towards an abandoned store, "-that used to sell those great bagels, and there-" I pointed to a spot by the fountain, "-used to be where they sold those ice-creams you liked."

"You mean the mint chocolate-"

"-don't say it, babe," I said, "Mint chocolate's an abomination. But there used to be crowds! There were stands, bands, and children playing in the fountain! There was a goddamn parade, Clint!"

"I remember," he smiled wistfully.

"But this? This looks like the aftermath of a zombie apocalypse. There's no life, no joy...it feels like it's just waiting to die. Maybe it's already dead."

Clint nodded silently in response.

"Is this what Thanos really wanted? Is this what he thought would happen?" I went on, "He said that the people that survived would thrive - this doesn't look much like thriving to me!"

"He was mad, hon. Obsessed."

"I know. I wish I could've been there for you," I said, and my voice cracked ever so slightly, "I wish I hadn't Blipped."

"You mean that?" Clint said, "Even if it meant not seeing the kids for five years?"

"Every damn word," I said, with a forcefulness that surprised even myself, "You shouldn't have had to face this alone."

"A lot of things happened that shouldn't've," he said roughly, "But...here we are. Maybe we should go and see if your craft shop is still around."

"Oh, I think it will be," I said, "I don't think Donovan'd let something like the end of the world slow him down."

We walked hand in hand down the dilapidated street, passing closed shops, dying shrubs, and the occasional overflowing bin. Although there was nobody else out and about, I occasionally thought I saw a curtain twitch, and from Clint's slightly wary posture I could tell that we were being watched. Occasionally I heard a noise; a dog barking, the peal of laughter, but they sounded distorted and very far away, almost swallowed up in the unnatural, oppressive silence.

Our footsteps echoed noisily on the sidewalk, and I felt my hair stand up on end just like back at the Blip Centre. As I thought about it, I realised that there were more than a few similarities between the two; for a start, there was that same feeling of a pale, purposeless existence, like the last embers of a dying fire. There was something else, too; something I couldn't quite identify, but I couldn't quite shake the feeling that I just wasn't welcome here anymore.

Clint must have sensed my disquiet, as he gave my hand a squeeze and said, quietly, "You okay, hon?"

"I think so," I said, "You know what? I think part of me knew that it was going to be like this."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. We used to come into town all the time, but I haven't been back here since we Blipped. I know we've been busy and everything, but until a couple of days ago I couldn't even admit that I'd died. I think coming here and...seeing everything like this would've been more than I could take."

"Maybe we shouldn't bring the kids just yet, then," Clint said, and looked around wryly, "Not that there's anything for them to do anymore."

"Yeah," I said, and looked around, "It's really odd. Part of me thinks that I just came here last month, and the other part knows that I haven't been here in half a decade. It's...difficult to describe."

My husband thought about it, "Kinda sounds like a weird form of deja vu."

"I suppose…" I shrugged, "But you know what else is odd? I watched myself die a bunch of times without so much as a whimper. My favourite bagel store vanishes? I'm crying like a damn baby."

"It's not odd," Clint reassured me, "Everyone handles shock and grief differently. You know how you said it was going to take a while for me to really accept that you and the kids are back? It's going to take you a while to really accept that you and the kids were gone. This kinda shoves it right in your face."

"I get that," I said, "But I don't want to have a breakdown every time I can't find a baked goods store!"

"So what if you do?" he said, a little challengingly, "You think I only cried once over your deaths? Every birthday, every anniversary, Christmas, Snap Day...it was like having the bandage ripped off every damn time-"

I had been half-expecting it, but the now-familiar spike of anger was still almost overpowering. I felt every muscle go tense at once, and there was a whistling in my ears that drowned out Clint's voice. Suddenly I wanted to scream, or lash out, or hit something, but a little voice came from somewhere deep inside.

"Count to four, Laura. Count to four..." strangely, it sounded a little like Thera, and the memory flashed up of him trying desperately to control his breathing in the face of Bulkagov's torture. Following his example, I took several slow, shuddering breaths, and felt the anger slowly fade away.

"-but I'll be there, I promise," Clint was saying, "Hey, hon; are you there?"

"What?" I blinked, and gave him a bright smile, "Yeah, I'm here. Sorry; just zoned out for a moment."

"Okay…" he gave me a curious look, but went on, "I was just saying that if you need to cry, then go ahead and cry. I'll be there for you, I promise."