Chapter Eleven: My Family and Other Ghosts

Donovan's craft shop had survived the end of the world, but I wasn't really in the mood to spend time listening to him talk about my 'aura'. As quickly as we could, Clint and I grabbed a scrapbook and some glittery things and made a break for it. The town still felt creepy, dying, and wrong as we headed back to the car, and I didn't start to relax until it was a distant smudge in the rear view mirror.

We stopped over briefly at a hardware store to get Clint's gas and came straight home. As the car crunched up the gravel path leading to the farmstead, I took a long, deep breath and exhaled slowly, as I felt the tension slowly begin to drain away.

"Why," said my mocking little inner voice, "If it isn't our very own castle. Nice little sanctuary we have here, right? Safe and sound, away from the world…"

I rolled my eyes, but said nothing as I brought the car to a halt just outside the front door. Clint got out immediately and headed upstairs with a grim look on his face, while I went around to the side to the fire pit. Long ago, we'd set aside part of the yard for toasting marshmallows, cooking outside, and teaching the kids how to be safe around fires. It had fallen into disuse as Coop and Lila got older, but after we'd Blipped back Clint wanted nothing more than to cram five years of barbeques and smores into a two week period. If I was being honest, I was now thoroughly sick of the smell of woodsmoke.

Still, we had a job to do, and that meant I needed to get the fire going. I quickly gathered up some kindling and some of Coop's chopped wood, as well as the flint and steel. By the time Clint came back downstairs with a large reinforced case, the fire was well underway and licking hungrily at the logs. The damp wood cracked and popped as it let off moisture, and the tell-tale smell of burning oak slowly began to fill the air.

My husband looked briefly at the growing fire and nodded once, "Nice."

"I try," I said, and he flashed me a wry grin as he put the case down, "Is that your…"

"Yeah," he said, curtly, "Stark gave me this case to make sure that all my...things would be kept safe. It's bulletproof, bomb proof, and check this out-" he put his hand to a small blue light on the front. There was a 'beep' and then from somewhere inside, the 'click' of a latch releasing, "Biometric lock, protected with quantum encryption."

"That sounds good," I said, and then shrugged, "...is it good?"

"Unless you're me, the only way you're getting inside this case is if you can walk through walls," he said, and carefully lifted the lid. Inside, there was a nondescript brown leather cloak, a hood patterned with gold filigree, and a pair of what I assumed were metal armguards. Clint took a long, deep breath and carefully removed each item, placing them gently on the ground near the firepit.

"These were Ronin's clothes. My clothes, I guess," he said, in a rather strained voice, "I always kind of thought that I'd end up dying in them. Never, ever thought I'd be standing here with you watching 'em burn."

"It's for the best," I said, gently, and he nodded, "Would you like to say something?"

"Do you think it'd help?"

"Ronin's been part of you for years, hon, whether you like it or not," I said, "You should probably say goodbye."

"Yeah. You're right," he said. With some solemnity, he picked up the cloak and hood and dropped them into the fire. The flames flared up and claimed the garments with thick orange tongues that wrapped tightly around the black leather. I stepped back as a pungent stench filled the air but Clint stayed put, staring into the fire with an unreadable expression on his face.

"I...was wrong," he said, as he watched the clothing bubble and char, "When Thanos murdered you, I was helpless. I looked away for one second and Lila was-" his voice cracked, and he fell silent. I put a consoling hand on his shoulder, blinking back tears, and he gave me a sad smile in response, "Gone. She was gone. And so were you. What could I do about that?"

"Nothing," I said. My voice was wavering, but firm, "There was nothing you could have done. And it wasn't your fault."

"I suppose that doesn't really matter now," he said, "But how did I get so lost? I told myself that I was cleaning up after Thanos, and...y'know, stopping others from feeling as helpless as I did…" he looked back at the blackened clothes, and his lip curled contemptuously, "But you know what? In the end I was a damn animal. I just hacked 'em down where they stood."

"It's okay, Clint."

"No, it ain't," he said, "How can I look the kids in the face and tell them that I murdered all those people? They think I'm a hero-"

"You are a hero. Everybody knows you are," I said, "But you said it yourself; being a hero can be complicated. You don't get to make those easy choices."

"They'll hate me."

"No," I shook my head, "They might be confused, but I don't think they'll ever hate you. They'll see what I see; a good man who lost his family and his world. You just...tried to do the best you could."

Clint stood in silence for a long time as Ronin's costume slowly turned to ash and drifted away, "Ronin was a mistake, Laura. Nat tried to reach out to me. She really tried, but I cut her off. I cut everyone off, and a lot of people got hurt 'cause of that. That won't happen again. No matter what happens, I promise you I'm gonna be better."

"I'm glad," I said, and gave his hand a squeeze, "And you're not alone now, Clint. Whatever we do, we'll do it together."

"What about the kids?"

"We'll tell them when they're older, hon," I said, "When they'll understand."

"Yeah," he nodded slowly, and then his eyes returned to the case, "Well, aside from these gauntlets, I guess there's just one thing left to deal with."

Carefully, he reached into the case and withdrew a long, slim object wrapped in matte black silk. With an almost reverential air, he carefully removed the cloth and allowed it to flutter gently to the ground, revealing a long, curved blade with a simple blackened hilt. The polished steel caught the firelight in strange and unsettling ways, and I felt a chill pass over me as I studied the carefully honed edge. I wasn't sure what I'd been expecting; some kind of ornate, gilded blade with elaborate carvings, perhaps, or possibly even something that hummed and glowed with Stark technology. By comparison, this sword seemed far too...unremarkable to have caused the deaths of over two hundred people. Somehow, that just felt wrong.

"You've got it backwards, Laura," said the little voice, "The weapons you're thinking of are meant to be seen so they never have to be used. This one isn't meant to be seen."

"You okay, hon?" Clint said. Shaken from my reverie, I looked over and saw him staring anxiously back.

"I'm fine," I said reassuringly, "I just wasn't sure what I was expecting. It looks very...efficient."

"It is," he said, "Perfectly balanced, made of the best steels...it certainly did its job. Feels a bit heavier than I remember, though."

"You need to work out more, then," I said, and patted him on the stomach, "'Maybe do some more crunches while you're at it."

"Nah, I'm probably just imagining things," he said, and gave it an experimental swipe, "Hey, you see that nick?"

I craned to look. About two thirds of the way up the blade, almost invisible to the naked eye, there was a small notch in the otherwise unbroken edge.

"It got that when we were fighting Thanos," he grinned wryly, "'Turns out those things he brought with him were a bit tougher than your average human."

"It really did do its job, then," I said, "It kept you safe until we came back."

"I guess; I hadn't really thought about it like that," he conceded, "But I've gotta destroy it, Laura. If anyone found it…"

"Yeah, I know," I said, "And I know how hard it's going to be for you."

"Actually? It ain't," he said, "I guess that I'm kinda trading it for a better future; y'know, one with you and the kids in it. That seems like a fair deal to me."

"So...where do you want to do this, then?" I said, "How long's it going to take?"

"Between this and the gauntlets? Maybe an hour?" he said, "I need to get 'em good and hot so's they soften up, and then I'll break 'em down into little bits with the hammers. Next time we make a dump run I'll toss the bits in the scrap."

"Well, we'd better be quick then," I said, and tapped my watch for emphasis, "Nate and Lila'll be home in just over an hour, and you know they'd want to know why we're melting stuff down in the yard."

"Oh, I'll do it out back," he said, and added, "Alone. Your overalls probably ain't fireproof anymore."

"They aren't?"

"Would you trust 'em? They've been sitting in that garage for the past five years and they're covered in oil."

"Oh, yeah," I winced, "That was from when I fixed the generator."

"They ain't safe," he said, "One spark and they could-"

"I get the picture," I said, and added 'new overalls' to my mental shopping list, "I'll stay out of the way."

"You can watch from the window if you want," he said, as he stopped to pick up the gauntlets, "Y'know, if you're worried I'll try and hide the sword or something."

"Oh, I'm not worried about that," I smiled, too sweetly, "'Cause you and I both know that if I find out you've done that, you'll wish that the Yakuza had gotten to you first."

Honestly, I was pretty relieved that Clint didn't want me hanging around for his sword-smashing ceremony. The aches and pains from my fight with Caleb were coming back with a vengeance, and with them a weariness that was settling deep into my bones. Moving carefully, I took the scrapbooking materials from the car, staggered inside, and flopped down on the sofa with a sigh of relief.

From outside I could hear the clatter of metal and an occasional grunt of exertion as Clint got everything set up. Eventually, there came the telltale 'click-click-click' of a striker, followed by a 'whump' and roar of flame. Satisfied, I settled back into the soft cushions and felt a subtle knot of tension slowly start to relax. I didn't really think the sword presented a big danger to us, but its destruction severed yet another link between Clint and Ronin, and as far as I was concerned that could only be a good thing...

I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew I was being jolted awake by the rhythmic, ringing clang of a hammer beating metal. As I sat up I felt white hot agony sear across my back as my muscles protested the sudden movement. A moment later, my legs joined in as I slowly levered myself to my feet, cursing inventively as I leant on the sofa arm for support.

"Damnit!" I fished desperately in my pocket for the nondescript pack of pills that Thera had given me. Yeah, he was an unknown who may be up to no good, but I'd also watched him walk a torture victim down the stairs and pull an arrow out of Caleb's hand with almost no complaint. Surely these were legit, right?

"Well, it's a choice between these and the ibuprofen upstairs," said the little voice, "All the way up those long, long stairs…"

With a groan I limped into the kitchen, downed two with a glass of water, and sat down while I waited for some relief. Almost instantly I felt a deep, warm feeling build in my chest, as if I had just drunk a cup of rich, thick hot chocolate. It was soothing, gentle, and as the warmth suffused my body the aches and weariness simply melted away. A sense of deep peace and serenity stole over me, and I sat there with a small, unfocused smile on my face as the world drifted casually past my warm little cocoon.

Eventually, the feeling faded, and too soon reality reintroduced itself with the harsh banging of Clint's efforts outside. With a slight twinge of regret, I crammed the pill bottle back into my pocket and stood up, fully expecting another stab of pain. There was nothing; in fact, I felt great, as if I'd just been massaged from head to toe. Curiously, I bent over to touch my toes, and then when even that failed to hurt I pinched myself, hard, to make sure I wasn't dreaming.

"Huh," I said, and took the pills back out for inspection. To my untrained eye, they seemed just like any other pill, but no painkiller I'd ever had had felt like that. Just what had Thera put in there, and what else had he been playing with?

Almost involuntarily, my gaze shifted from the pill box to the bandage still wrapped around my hand. The events of the day had darkened the previously pristine white dressing to a light brown, but it had remained intact and secure despite my time in the mud. It definitely appeared to be normal, but at the same time it occured to me that Thera had been really insistent on replacing Clint's handiwork. With a frown, I gave one of my abused knuckles an experimental prod, and then with a shrug and a muttered 'to hell with it' I cut the knot and carefully unwrapped the fabric. Ribbons of material fell to the floor until, at last, I looked down and saw fresh, baby-pink skin staring straight back at me.

"Well, well, well…" I said, staring at the healed skin with a small sense of self-satisfaction, "What are you playing at, Thera?"

At that very moment I heard the telltale crunch of feet on the gravel outside. I quickly gathered up the discarded bandage and tossed it in the garbage just as the front door clicked open and Lila and Coop came rushing in. I looked at my daughter's bright, smiling face and with a slight pang I thought of Poppy back at the Blip Centre, alone and waiting patiently for parents who might never come. With some effort, I banished the thought as hard as I could and forced a bright smile for my children.

"Hi, kids!" I said, and greeted them both with a hug and a kiss. Both Thera and Poppy could wait.

"Mom! Mom!" my daughter said, "Did you get the scrapbook? And the glitter?"

"I did, Lila," I said, "But-"

"Great! I can't wait to make it!" she said, and before I could stop her she'd danced away and bolted upstairs, "Be right down!"

"Well, she's in a good mood, " I remarked, "What happened at school?"

"I'd better let her tell you, mom," Coop smiled, and for just an instant he was the spitting image of his father, "She'd kill me otherwise."

"Sure," I said, and added, "You have a good day?"

"More Blip class," Coop shrugged, "It's kinda dull."

"It's important, Coop," I said sharply, "We need to know what happened while we were…"

"Dust?"

"I guess," I said. I didn't really want to say 'dead', but 'dust' wasn't a whole lot better, "I know it's weird, dear."

"Yeah," he said, "I remember some of the guys around school being kids, and now they're my age. They're pretty cool, though; I was gonna go hang out with some of them after we've done this scrapbook for Lila."

"As long as you're back before dinner," I said, and added, "You know this scrapbook's for you too, right? I know she kinda forced the issue..."

"It's okay, mom," he said, "It's important for her. Is Dad home?"

"Oh, he's just finishing some stuff up outside," I said, and Coop jumped as resounding 'clang' echoed through the house, "I wouldn't go out there until he's finished up, though."

"Sure thing, mom," he said, and then frowned, "Mom? What happened to your neck?"

Thankfully, Lila chose that exact moment to emerge excitedly from her room, and she came thumping down the stairs two at a time with a bright, beaming smile on her face.

"Scrapbook, mom?" she said eagerly.

"Sure," I said, smiling almost despite myself, "Bag's in the living room; go get it set up on the table."

"Yay!" she said excitedly, and vanished. A moment later, there came the telltale rustling of plastic, and then a 'thump' as something heavy hit the coffee table.

"Coop, could you do me a favour? Get on the computer and print out all the pictures we've got of Auntie Nat. By the time you're done there I reckon Lila'll have covered everything in stars and glitter. You know what she's like."

"Sure, mom," he said, and gave my neck another careful look, "Sure."

"Thanks, kiddo."

I found Lila kneeling at the coffee table, hard at work on the scrapbook. Tubes of glitter, stars, and sparkly pens were scattered wildly around her, and she was carefully writing the word 'Auntie Nat' on the front with a stencil and a ruby red pen. Her expression was one of intense concentration, and her tongue was poking out of the corner of her mouth. Not wanting to disturb her, I sat down on the sofa and waited patiently while she finished the cover with the addition of a red, heavily stylised hourglass on the bottom.

"'Cause she's the Black Widow, mom," she said, "I learned about them in school last year after Hunter got bit by one. Me and Maisie…"

She stopped, and then gave me a bright, if rather fake smile.

"Well, they've got red hourglasses on their bodies. That's how you know it's a Black Widow!"

"That's right," I said, and looked approvingly at the front cover, "That looks great, Lila. You going to decorate the inside?"

"Yep!" she said, and blew gently on the gel until it dried, "I made a new friend today, mom!"

"That's great!"

"Yeah! Her name's Allegra! She likes Samurai Unicorns just as much as me, but 'cause she didn't Blip she got to see all the movies when they came out! Did you know that there's been another four movies? She said the last one was-" she paused, and then said slowly, "'Ca-non di-ver-gent'. I don't know what that means, but she said it wasn't any good."

"We'll have to have her over at some point, I guess," I said. Lila smiled, and carefully opened the book, "How'd you meet her?"

"Oh, her older sister Arietta Blipped just like we did, so now she's her younger sister. Isn't that weird?" she paused, "Anyway, she was wearing a 'Kirin' shirt when she got Arietta at lunchtime and Kirin's my favourite character too, so we just started talking!"

"Sounds like you really hit it off."

"Yeah!" Lila nodded, "Arietta's nice too. Allegra said she really missed her when she was gone, and she's really happy that she's back! Her parents are really happy too; they're gonna have a party next weekend to let everyone who Blipped know how happy they are they're back. We're invited, mom!"

"That's nice of them," I said, "Do you know who her mom is? Maybe I should talk to her."

"She's not weird, mom. Not like Maisie's mom."

"I know, but I should get to know her anyway," I gestured at the book, "Anyway, are you going to glitter that book up or not?"

"Sure," Lila said, and flipped open the book, "I reckon this page needs some stars; maybe some red and gold ones…"

"You know, there's another girl who really likes your TV show," I said, as she got to work, "She's your age, too."

Lila looked up curiously, a star still stuck to her index finger, "What's her name?"

"Poppy."

"I don't think there's a Poppy at our school, mom."

"No, she's...she doesn't have her parents, Lila," I said, and plunged on, "Some kids didn't Blip with their parents, and they don't know where they are."

"Oh," my daughter stopped for a moment to think about this, and I saw a sudden flash of fear in her eyes, "She must be really scared."

"She's very brave; just like you, actually," I said, and ruffled her hair gently, "But I thought maybe we could go and see her at some point, just so she's not all alone."

"I could bring some of my DVDs," she said, "Do you think she has a Blueray player?"

"I'm sure that Thera-" I stopped and sighed internally, "I'm sure that there's a Blueray player. Or maybe we could bring ours."

"Yeah," she said. Apparently satisfied with this answer, she bent back over the scrapbook and began industriously applying stars and glitter around the edges of each page. I settled back and watched her work, only interrupting occasionally to remind her not to put too many stars on a single page, and, of course, to leave room for the actual pictures.

"She's not the only one who's all alone," murmured my treacherous inner voice, "Or the only one who's scared."

"You be quiet!" I said, and felt a sudden pulse of anger, "She made her choice."

"Sure. Let's just take a moment and review how you treated Clint after we Blipped back, shall we? I wouldn't be getting too high and mighty if I were you. Everyone-"

"Mom?" Coop's subdued voice cut across my internal argument, and I looked up to see him bringing in a stack of pictures in varying shapes and sizes, "I printed them out, like you asked."

"Thanks, Coop," I said, and took a photo from the top of the pile, "Can I have a look, ple-"

My breath caught in my throat. I remembered this photo; it'd been taken two years ago during a perfect summer's day. The kids had been out playing in the fields while Nat and I sat on the porch swing and drank lemonade. Clint had taken the picture by surprise just as she'd cracked a joke that'd made me spray lemonade halfway across the porch; I was doubled over, desperately wiping at my face, while Nat…

Nat was smiling. Her face was slightly turned away from the camera as she reached for a napkin, but my husband had still managed to capture the slight quirk in her lips and crinkling around her eyes. In that moment, she hadn't been a professional killer, always scanning the horizon for the next threat, but one of my best friends.

Now she was gone.

"You okay, mom?" Coop said, carefully.

"Yeah," I said, and smiled a little glassily, "Just taking a trip down memory lane..."

He squinted at the photo, "Wasn't it her birthday? She used to tell me she loved spending it here."

"Let me see!" Lila piled in, "Oh yeah! That was two years ago! Dad let off some fireworks!"

"Seven years," my son corrected her, and I felt a slight twinge inside, "Remember?"

"Oh...yeah," my daughter paused and then started leafing through the other photographs, "Are the fireworks in here? Hold on…"

"You sure you're okay, mom?" Coop repeated quietly.

"It was just a bit of shock, Coop," I assured him, "I'll be fine."

"Found it!" said Lila, and held up a photo showing Nat and my daughter standing out on the field, illuminated by the red glare of a dying firework, "Can we start sticking these in? Please?"

"Hold on, kiddo!" I said, "Your brother's printed out a lot of photos here. Let's go through 'em and choose only the best ones, yeah? We need to get the whole family in here at some point or another."

There was a click from the back door, and Clint poked his head around the corner. He was still wearing his overalls, and slung over his back was a large hessian sack, "You guys picking out photos for the scrapbook?"

"Yeah," I held up a hand, "And you'd better not be thinking about tracking all that muck through the house, mister!"

"No, no," he said, "I was just going to ask you to leave a space at the back. I've got a really special photo for the very end - but I've gotta go grab Nate and drop this stuff off at the scrapyard."

"Sure," I said, and turned to Coop and Lila, "Well, kids? Let's get to work."

Over the next hour or so we slowly went through the stack of photos, talking, laughing, and remembering the good times that we'd spent with Nat. Here she was gently holding baby Nate, and here she was beating Clint roundly at a game of chess. In one photo, she'd be sitting enjoying a quiet dinner with the family, and in the next she'd be play-fighting with Coop on the lawn or tarted up in camouflage paint, holding a water pistol in each hand.

"Are there ones in here from when she took us paintballing?" Lila asked, and laughed, "She took that way too seriously."

"Yeah," Coop snorted, "I still don't know why I ended up on 'Fireteam Alpha'."

"'Cause you were the, uh, 'cannon fodder'," Lila said, and nudged him playfully, "That's what she told me."

"She told me the same thing 'bout you, squirt!" he said, "And then she went and shot up the enemy team almost by herself. I think they banned her after that."

"Yeah," Lila said, "You really should've come, mom. It was a great day."

"Another time, maybe," I said, and felt a sudden stab of regret. Of course, there wasn't going to be another time, "You know what? Maybe I'll take you."

"You?" Coop said incredulously, "C'mon mom, be serious."

"You reckon I can't handle myself?" I said, "Who shoots the vermin 'round here when Clint's out on a mission, eh?"

"That's a shotgun, mom," he said, "You-"

"This one's pretty!" Lila interjected, "Isn't this when we went to the water park? Y'know, last...I mean six years ago. I was so scared of that big slide!"

"You still went down it, though," said Coop, and paused, "I don't see mom, though…"

"I had to stay home with Nate, remember?" I said, and felt that stab again.

"You missed out, mom."

"I know, I missed out on a lot. I mean, look at these…" I leafed through the stack, and felt myself getting misty-eyed, "That trip to the zoo, the Independence day parade...here's that water park again…"

"That's not true!" Lila objected, and held up a couple of pictures, "Look; you're having fun with us here!"

"Those pictures're at the farm, hon," I said, with a weak smile, "How many times did I come out with you and Auntie Nat? I always had an excuse, or thought that there would be another chance, but now…"

I sat back on my seat and covered my mouth with my hand, tears suddenly flowing freely. Coop and Lila looked at one another uncertainly, and then my daughter came to sit next to me.

"I'm sorry, mom," she said, "We shouldn't have done this scrapbook. It was a bad idea."

"No, Lila, it was a brilliant idea," I said, and gave her a tearful hug, "You're both such amazing kids. I've always been so proud of how eager you've been to try new things, make new friends… while I stayed home and let everything happen around me. God knows what she thought of me..."

"Nat thought you were great, mom," Coop said, "She always used to say that you took one for the team by marrying Dad."

"I think that was a joke, hon," I said, and let my squirming daughter go, "But thanks anyway."

"She also said something else," he paused, and then went on, "She said not to tell you, but...ah, screw it."

"Language!" I said, and added, "...what did she say?"

"Uh, that when you worked out what you wanted to do - y'know, really wanted to do, that you'd make her and the rest of the Avengers look like a bunch of chumps," he said, "She looked serious, too. I reckon she really believed it."

"That was...nice of her," I said, and wiped away the last of the tears, "Well, you know what I really want to do right now, kids?"

My children - my wonderful children - looked at each other for a moment, and then as one shook their heads.

"I really want to do this scrapbook," I said, "Let's make Auntie Nat proud."

By the time Clint returned, the scrapbook was almost complete. Pictures of Nat from happier times sat proudly on each page, surrounded by a possibly toxic level of glitter, stars, and other decorative niceties that Lila had found in her room. It was clearly about as far from Nat as anything could possibly be, but at the same time I knew she would have loved it to pieces.

Barely had the front door clicked shut than Nate came charging in, looking for attention and (more likely) his dinosaur collection.

"How's my little guy?" I said brightly, and scooped him up into a tight hug. My youngest had sticky fingers, and there was no way I wanted him anywhere near my other kids' hard work. Instead, I went to greet my husband with a bright smile and a kiss on the cheek.

"Everything dealt with, hon?" I said, quietly enough that Coop and Lila couldn't hear. He nodded once in response, and then turned his gaze to the scrapbook.

"It all done, then?" he asked, "'Looks good from over here!"

"Yeah. We're just waiting for your 'really special' photo," I said, holding the struggling Nate tightly to my hip, "You gonna go get it for us?"

"Yeah," he said, and as he went to head upstairs I saw the tension settle in around his eyes, "Just gimme a sec."

"Will do," I said, and set Nate down, "Go play with your toys, sweetheart."
"But that's Auntie Nat!" he said, pointing to the scrapbook.

"I know," I said, and added, "But your brother and sister worked really hard on it, so let's not touch it - okay?"

"Okay!" he said, "I can't wait for her to see it."

"Me...me either," I said, and kicked myself internally for my cowardice. At some point, and it would have to be some point soon, I was going to have to explain to Nate why that couldn't happen. That would have to be a battle for another day, "Why don't you go see how tall you can make your marble run, okay?"

That seemed to satisfy Nate, and he rushed off to his little corner in the living room just as the heavy tread of boots on wood announced Clint's reappearance from upstairs. He was holding a glossy six-by-four photo protectively close to his chest, and both Coop and Lila crowded round as he brought it into the living room.

"Easy, kids!" he said, maybe a little harsher than he intended, "It ain't easy to get another copy of this picture, and...it's kind of important."

Without saying any more, he laid it down on the coffee table and stood back to let the kids get a closer look. I peered curiously over Lila's shoulder, and saw-

"This was the last photo that we ever took of her," Clint said gruffly, "Jus' before we went after the 'Stones."

-a lineup of the Avengers, at least those who had survived the Snap. They were standing against an off-white warehouse wall, all dressed in advanced, form-fitting combat armour in white, red, and gray.

"Looking good, Dad," my son said, and I had to admit that he was right, "You look like you're going to kick some ass."

"There's the Hulk," said Lila, pointing at the massive figure in the centre, "And there's Stark, and there's Auntie Nat..."

"She dyed her hair," I said, looking at her red hair with some surprise, "When did she do that?"

"Some point after the Snap," Clint shrugged, "Dunno when."

"She looks tired," Coop said sadly, "Real tired."

I peered closer, and realised that my son was right. Whatever had happened during the Snap, it had aged her terribly. The lines around her eyes were more pronounced, and there was a grim set to her jaw that was obvious even through the smile. Despite that, I could still see the steely-eyed determination that practically defined her shining through as brightly as ever. This wasn't the look of a woman on the brink of collapse; it was the look of one who was just getting started.

"We were all real tired," Clint said, "But you gotta remember, kids, she spent every waking moment looking, working, and waiting for this shot. She wasn't goin' down without a fight - heck," he rubbed ruefully at his chin, "She didn't go down without a fight."

There was a long silence while the children studied the picture carefully, broken only by the occasional background 'plink' of a marble falling down a plastic chute. Finally, Lila looked up at her father.

"Dad…?" she said, in a small, quavering voice.

"Yes, hon?" he said.

"Did Thanos hate us?" she said, "He had to, right? He took us away from you, and because of him Auntie Nat had to...to…"

Her eyes filled with sudden tears, and Clint knelt down in front of her and placed his hands on her shoulders.

"Lila, honey," he said, "I don't think Thanos hated you, or me, or anyone else-"

"Then how could he do this to us?" she wailed suddenly, "How could he take away Auntie Nat?"

Clint gave me a brief look, and then his face became set, "Because he didn't see us as people, Lila. To him, Snapping you away would've been no different to squashing a fly."

"Clint!" I protested, but he shook his head.

"I'm sorry, hon, but it's true. I know what I'm talking about, remember?" he said, and gave me a significant look, "When you stop seeing people as people and start seeing them as things, it becomes real easy to be a monster."

"You mean like when people call us 'ghosts'?" Lila said, and sniffed, "Like when Maisie-"

"It's where it starts, hon," he said, "But it doesn't make Maisie a monster. If she was, she wouldn't be trying to help out in your Blip class."

"But-"

"What I'm sayin' is that you'll have to be careful," he said firmly, "You'll be hearing a lot more about this over the comin' months; there'll be people dividing everyone up into those who Blipped and those who didn't. It ain't as easy as judgin' someone based on their race or if they're a boy or a girl, but you can bet they'll give it a try. "

"Remember that everyone's someone, kids," I said, and Clint nodded, "It doesn't matter if we Blipped or they didn't; we all have families, loved ones, dreams…"

"Your mom's right," said my husband, "And every time you look at this photo, just remember that everyone in it was there 'cause they loved the people they lost. The people who want to stir up trouble? They ain't worth botherin' with."

With some care, Clint placed the last picture in the scrapbook and then carefully closed the cover. The small red hourglass on the front winked and glimmered in the afternoon sun, and he smiled briefly before placing it up on the bookshelf, out of harm's way.

"Tell you what, kid," he said to Lila, "Would it make you feel any better if we played some archery tag?"

My daughter's face lit up suddenly, and she gave a happy smile, "Sure, Dad!"

"Coop?"

"I'm going out with my friends," said Coop, and I nodded briefly to Clint, "But mom…?"

"I-" the excuse was already half-formed and marching resolutely towards my mouth. but then I caught the expression on Coop's face and stopped, "You know what? I'll play."

"Great!" said Lila, apparently oblivious to the silent exchange, "I'll go get the bows!"

"You sure about this?" said Clint, a little anxiously, "Aren't you still a bit banged up from earlier?"

"I'll need to talk to you about that later," I said quietly, "But don't worry about me. Let's go and have some fun while we've still got the light, right? Nate can play on the porch."

Clint gave me a long, quizzical look, and then smiled, "Sure, hon. I'll go easy on you."

"Don't go too easy on me!" I protested, "I reckon I can put up a fight! I mean... maybe against Lila."

"Let's just see what she's got to say about that, eh?" he said, and his smile was positively nasty, "I think she might just surprise you."

It turned out Lila had quite a lot to say about that, which I reflected on as I laid on the sofa later that evening. While I'd known that my daughter had inherited her father's skill with a bow, I hadn't appreciated that she'd also acquired the same streak of ruthless pragmatism. Thanks to that, what I'd thought would be a nice run-around on the lawn swifty degenerated into a desperate scramble for cover while she took me apart with all the compassion and mercy of a contract killer. Not even the strange, warming powers of Thera's painkillers could completely ward off the feeling of a perfect shot straight to the solar plexus, and I winced and smiled as Clint sat down beside me holding a steaming cup of coffee.

"You know, I remember the first day you brought her that first bow," I said, as I gratefully accepted the offering, "That hideous pink one with the flowers?"

"She was going through a princess and unicorn phase, wasn't she?" Clint said, and laughed, "I thought it might get her to give it a go. After all, I want at least one of my kids to learn my trade, even if it's as a hobby."

"Well, wish granted…" I said, and winced again as I shifted in my seat, "I didn't realise you were training a monster."

"Who would've thought that the kid who can barely sit still had the heart of a cold-blooded sniper?" he said, with some pride, "Gotta say, I didn't envy you out there."

"Have you thought about letting her compete?" I said, "I'm sure she'd do brilliantly."

"I'm sure she would," he said, and paused, "But this? It's kinda ourthing, and it's more fun when it's...fun, y'know?"

"Yeah, I do," I patted him on the leg, "I'm not sure 'fun' is meant to hurt this much, though…"

"not sure that's Lila's fault, babe," he said, "Caleb did throttle you half to death, remember?"

"Mmm," I said, and touched my throat, "Coop spotted that. 'Pretty sure he's going to have questions for me later."

"So what?" said Clint, "You took down someone who was trying to kill me. What's the matter with that?"

"The 'matter with that' is that since we Blipped back I've been in more fights than I've been in the last twenty years, and I'm trying to set a good example!" I said, "How can I tell him that brawling in the street is bad when I come home covered in injuries?"

"I dunno about that," he said, and nodded at my hand, "Your knuckles've healed up pretty well. Really well, actually."

"Yeah, about that..." I said, and flexed my hand, "When Thera changed the bandage yesterday, my knuckles were still pretty badly scabbed up. There's these, too."

I pulled out the painkillers and handed them to Clint, who gave them a curious look.

"Thera gave me these this morning, remember?" I said, "Well, I took two earlier-"

"You took these?" Clint said incredulously, "Laura-"

"I was in a lot of pain, alright?" I said defensively, "And besides, the guy was in pieces after treating Bulgakov. Do you really think he's going to poison me?"

"Poisoners don't tell you that they're poisoning you until after they've poisoned you, Laura," he said, and sighed, "Still, it doesn't really seem like his thing. I'm guessin' that they helped?"

"Like nothing I've ever had before," I said, and then smiled a little wistfully, "Well, not since high school."

He blinked, "You got high off these?"

"Maybe a little," I said, "But afterwards the pain was gone, and I mean gone. I felt great, right up until that one arrow hit me in the kidney...and that other arrow hit me in the stomach."

"That did look painful," he agreed, "How d'ya feel now?"

"Okay...ish," I said. I could feel the stiffness starting to return, particularly where Lila had tagged me with her arrows, "Not as good as I felt earlier, that's for sure."

"Guess they aren't meant to last forever," Clint said, He tipped one of the pills out onto his hand and held it up to the light, "Hmm…"

"What're you thinking, hon?"

"I'm thinking nothin'," he said, "You either finish this pack, or we destroy 'em, and we leave it all well enough alone. Let's just say that this is Thera's way of thanking you for bringing down Caleb."

"But these pills and those bandages...shouldn't we at least send them off to Fury? Think about it; next time you get yourself blown up by a runaway Stark creation they won't need to fix you up in the Crucible!"

"'Next time'?" my husband looked a little hurt, "That only happened once!"

"You know what I mean, though."

"Yeah, I do," he said, and then a sly smile crept onto his face, "I also know what you really mean, hon."

"Oh? What do I really mean?"

"You want to keep on stickin' your nose into this whole business, don't you."

"No, I don't!" I protested hotly, "Like I told Vi-"

"C'mon, Laura," Clint rolled his eyes, "I'm not Vi. I can tell when you're lyin', like...right now."

"Damnit," I said, "Is it that obvious?"

"Yeah, but it's more than that, ain't it," he said, and it wasn't a question, "There's something different about you. These past couple of weeks, you've had a restless energy about you. You want to do something; you're just not sure what."

"Dying will do that to a girl," I said, and he grinned.

"Yeah, I get it. You've thrown yourself into that whole business with Thera and Vi with everything you had, but then we ended up with murderers and magic and...these-" he rattled the pill bottle, "-which is right outside our pay grade. Trouble is, you don't wanna let go 'cause you don't know what you'll do with yourself if you aren't chasing them all around Missouri."

I was silent for a long time. He was right, of course.

"Look, hon, I ain't blaming you or anything like that," he said eventually, "But there's gotta be something you can do that doesn't get us involved with one of Strange's schemes. Y'know, something productive."

"Like chopping wood?" I said archly.

"Hey," he spread his arms, "If it was good enough for me…"

"Hah," I snorted, "Look, it's just that...I've been spending some time thinking about what I did with my life. My previous life, I guess. I thought that living here with you and raising our kids was enough, but now... I'm not sure."

Clint looked like he was about to speak, and I quickly held up my hand to stop him.

"Don't get me wrong, hon, I don't regret any of it, but I just feel like I should be doing something more. Do you know why Vi got under our skins so easily earlier?"

"Because she was being a total asshole?"

"Well, yes," I conceded, "But she was also right! I've been spending half my life hiding away in my own perfect little world. I've sat here cheering you on from a distance while you suffered and bled and solved all the world's problems for me. Why? So I could go on living in my own perfect little world. Why was I doing that? Why wasn't I getting involved?"

"What, with the Avengers?" Clint raised an eyebrow, "Hon, you're a lot of things, but you ain't special forces material."

"Not with the Avengers; with anything!" I took a deep breath, "Clint, when we were making Nat's scrapbook, I realised just how much I'd missed out on, both with her and the kids. I always had a reason to not do something...but then I died, and then she died, and for some reason I was the one who got the second chance."

"You know it's not like that, Laura," Clint said.

"Maybe not, but I can't spend my life haunting this farmhouse like I did before. Hell, I was a ghost before it was cool. I've got to do something."

"Sure," he nodded slowly, "Sure. What do you want to do? Name it."

"Well-"

"Just so long as it doesn't involve those two over at the warehouse. They're bad news."

"Yes, but-"

"Or archery tag," he said, "'Cause frankly that was just embarrassing."

"No, hon, but thanks," I said acidly, "I'm pretty sure that I know what I really want to do. I want to help those poor guys over at the Blip Centre, like Poppy and that Flora woman and all those others who're just stuck there. There's gotta be something I can do- why are you smiling?"

"Because...I kinda sorta saw this one coming," he said, looking incredibly self-satisfied, "It was obvious just from how much time you spent trying to reassure me that it'd all be okay."

"Now who's being a total asshole?" I said, and slapped his shoulder lightly, "You could've said something!"

"What, and spoil your self-reflection? Never," he said, and added, "But what're you going to do?"

"I'm...not sure yet. But I'm pretty sure what I'll need to do to do it. I need to understand the problem," I took a deep breath and squared my aching shoulders, "And to do that, I need to learn about the Blip."