Chapter 27: The Truth, Part One

Thanks to Clint's driving, we made it to St. Louis in just under three hours. It felt like three years.

For most of the time we drove in silence, with the only sound being the powerful hum of the car as it burned down the interstate. From Clint's expression it was clear that he was in no mood to talk, and honestly I wasn't sure there was anything more to be said. All I wanted to do right now more than to go home, hug my kids, and curl up on the sofa with the dregs of Clint's Thormite. I wanted it so hard it ached, and the fact that we were being dragged halfway across Missouri by a pair of out-of-control mystics was nothing less than maddening. Whatever their reasoning was for inflicting this on us, it'd better be bulletproof.

"Coop...sounded happy," Clint said, in the tones of someone who sounded desperate to make light conversation. It was the first thing he'd said in almost an hour.

"Of course he would," I replied, and gave him a crooked grin, "No parents and an all-expenses-paid day out with Maisie? I bet he thinks he's back in heaven."

"Until he realises that he's gotta keep Nate an' Lila happy, sure," Clint chuckled, "I think he's about to learn a harsh lesson about the realities of parenthood."

"Oh, definitely," I paused, "But that was nice of Thera... I guess? Y'know, to think of the kids?"

"Sure," Clint said, and added pointedly, "'Almost makes up for jerkin' us around an' nearly blowin' us sky high. If we'd been just two minutes slower-"

"-then I'm sure they would've waited two minutes more," I said, "You said you thought they were watching us? I think you're right."

"You're still choosin' to believe in 'em?" he said scornfully, "Even now?"

"What other option do we have?"

"Well...if they were, then how're they gonna beat us to St. Louis?" he said, "I've been doin' near eighty this whole trip, an' its a mercy we ain't been hauled over yet."

"How're they getting around normally?" I said, "It's not like Marshfield's within walking distance of that warehouse, and I somehow don't think 'Ronin' is one for taking the bus. What if they have some strange, eldritch mode of transport - like a unicorn?"

"Hmm. Good point, 'cept for the unicorn," he said, "Look, let's just wrap this up, head home, an' find out how the kids managed to spend all Thera's money. Personally, I can't wait."

I chuckled, although there was no humour in it, "As long as Lila doesn't murder her brother in a fit of jealousy, I'd consider it a win."

Slowly, the lush green fields and forests of Missouri gave way to the squat, unlovely industrial estates of eastern St. Louis, and off in the distance I could see the taller buildings of the downtown district, shining in the sun. As we drew nearer the now-familiar twist of anxiety settled in the pit of my stomach, churning and bubbling, and I felt a sudden rush of fear as the Gateway Arch came into view. Clint gave me a concerned look, but I flashed him a reassuring smile and indicated not-too-subtly that he should keep his eyes on the road, just too late for him to come off at the junction he really needed to.

After a bit of swearing and a couple of missed turns, the sat-nav finally recovered enough to direct us to a large multi-storey car park near the memorial. While Clint grappled with the car charger, I stretched my legs and shook out the kinks that'd built up over the course of the three-hour trip. The way I saw it, I needed to be limber and ready to move; after all, who knew what Thera and Vi were about to throw at us?

Apparently, Clint agreed with me. Once the charger finally acknowledged our car with an disgustingly optimistic jingle, he went around to the back of the car and threw open the trunk. There was a rustle of fabric and then an ominous 'clink', and as I looked up from stretching my hamstrings I saw him wrestle his sack bag out of the boot and onto the ground.

"Clint?" I said warningly, "Just what're you doing?"

"I'm takin' my bow," he said matter-of-factly, "If nothin' else, it'll show we mean business."

"You can't carry a bow through the city!"

"Sure I can. Open carry state, remember?"

"But that's for guns! People're going to think you're nuts!"

"Or they'll think I'm on my way to an archery competition," he said, and sighed, "Listen, hon. It's not like I want to bring it along. It's pretty clear that those two're up somethin', though, an' if that somethin' involves us havin' to defend ourselves then I reckon I'd do a better job with my bow than my fists or harsh language!"

"Okay, fine. You've got me," I admitted, "Just don't come crying when everyone laughs at you!"

I stood around awkwardly while he unpacked his bow and loaded up his quiver, and then we set off hand-in-hand through downtown St. Louis towards the Gateway Arch. It was a comparatively short walk, down broad streets lined with gleaming skyscrapers and old, stately buildings, and the warm sun and bright, cheerful atmosphere did a lot to lift my spirits. Even so, something still felt a little...off. Maybe I'd just become acclimated to rural living, but there seemed to be an awful lot of people out today, and they all seemed to be moving gradually in the same direction. They looked purposeful, too; not necessarily unfriendly, but it was pretty clear that they weren't out enjoying the weather or running simple errands. What were they up to?

"Guess they must be goin' to Keame's rally," Clint said, answering my unvoiced question, "'Gotta hand it to the man, he knows how to draw a crowd. You hear that?"

I stopped and listened. On the edge of hearing, just above the hubbub of St. Louis, I could hear the deep bass thrum of rock music playing in the middle distance, "Yeah."

"Probably the warm-up act," Clint said, "From the sounds of it, I reckon they're in Kiener Plaza."

"Really? Huh," I frowned, "I kinda figured they'd be at the Missouri Memorial. Y'know, like the picture on the wall?"

"Maybe he couldn't get permission?" Clint said, "I mean, it's a pretty important place for a lot of people, an' I don't reckon that'll have changed much after the Blip."

"I guess not," I agreed, "Either you're in there, or you've got loved ones in there."

"Or both. Anyway, we'd better get goin'," Clint said, and gently pulled me down the road against the flow of traffic, "The sooner we're away from that madman's rally, the happier I'll be."

It took a bit of struggling, but we were able to force our way through the worst of the gathering crowds and past the elaborate white facade of the nearby museum. The Arch was very close now, and as always I felt a mixture of pride and wonder as I stared at its great metal span, soaring dramatically through the deep blue sky.

"Always impressive, ain't it?" Clint said, "Did you know it's the-"

"-tallest arch in the world? Yes, I did," I said, "You say that every time we…"

As the entrance to the park came into view, I stopped and stared in shock. The last time we'd come here, the route to the Gateway Arch had consisted of an open paved area and an elaborate dedication to its architect. That was all gone; now, there was now an elaborate cast-iron fence that spanned the entire width of the entranceway with brightly coloured climbing roses wrapped around each thick black bar. In the centre stood an large, masterfully wrought gate, decorated with hawthorn blossom, over which a proclamation was displayed in burnished steel:

THE MISSOURI MEMORIAL: IN LOVING MEMORY OF THE VICTIMS OF THE SNAP

"Wow," I said, eventually, "That's changed. Did you know about this?"

"No. Never came here," Clint said hoarsely, "Not once. Maybe I should've done."

"C'mon, hon. No regrets," I said reassuringly, and linked my arm with his, "You're here now, okay? That's enough."

The crowd thinned out further as we drew closer to the gate, and we passed under the archway onto a broad path that led towards an arcing, glass-fronted visitor centre, clearly designed in the style of the Arch itself. On either side, a pair of enormous oaks provided some welcome respite from the sun, and as we walked down the path the hustle and bustle of St. Louis slowly faded into the background, replaced with the thrills and trills of birdsong and the rustle of leaves in the wind. It was quiet here, serene even, and I felt my tension slowly begin to ebb away, dispersing into the stillness.

The doors slid open silently at our approach, revealing a cool, dark hallway with only spot-lighting for illumination. The pathway led unbroken through the building, and emerged from the other side through another pair of double doors. On one side, there was an alcove titled 'What was the Snap?', next to another that apparently detailed the construction of the memorial itself. At the far end there was an expansive wooden kiosk, manned by a friendly-looking old woman. She was reading a book, but looked up as we entered and quickly waved us over.

"Good morning, dear!" she said, in a surprisingly chipper voice, "Have you been to the Missouri Memorial before?"

"Um...no," I said, and Clint shook his head.

"Well, are you looking to pay your respects in general, or are you looking for someone in particular?"

"Yes," I said, and smiled self-consciously, "We're, um, we're looking for me."

"Nothing to be ashamed of, dear," the lady said generously, "We've had a lot of Snap victims through these past few weeks, you know. Some say it helps them come to terms with what's happened, while others just like the peace and quiet. May I have your name?"

"Laura," I said, "Laura Barton."

"Oh?" her eyebrows went up, as she went to look at her computer, "That's very strange."

"What's strange?" Clint asked sharply.

"Well, I'm not really sure I should be saying this… but I had a gentleman just ten minutes ago asking after you as well," she said, and turned her computer so we could see, "I still have it up on the screen. Monument 522, third face!"

"This gentleman," I said, "Was he...British? Sorry, but this might be important."

"Well…" she paused for a moment, "I think so. He was pretty quiet, but he had a kind smile."

"Can't be Thera, then," Clint muttered. I trod gently on his foot.

"He was somber, though; looked anxious," she went on, "He asked for the locations of yourself and…um, oh yes! Flora Barrington. Does that name ring a bell?"

"It does, actually," I said, with some surprise, "Was he with anyone else? Maybe a black woman, about my height with big hair? Speaks very quickly, too."

"No, dear, he was alone. But he was carrying a bouquet of flowers; red carnations, I believe, and he made a donation to the Memorial Upkeep Fund," she inclined her head towards the box next to the kiosk, which held a single, lonely bill, "Not many people carry cash these days, so I was kind of surprised."

"We'd better go," Clint said, and nodded at the woman behind the kiosk, "Thank you, ma'am. You've been very helpful."

"Take a map," she said, and indicated the small pamphlet holder just below the kiosk, "It can be overwhelming on your first visit, and people often get turned around in there."

"Will do."

The woman smiled, and then turned back to me, "Good luck, dear. I hope you find what you're looking for."

As we passed through the far doors, there was a gentle breeze that brought with it the subtle scent of flowers, and I paused for a moment to take in the scenery. Before us, a broad walkway continued onwards to the Gateway Arch through a thick forest of flowering dogwood trees. They stood tall and proud, their branches heavy with snowy white blossoms, and lent an ethereal, even otherworldly air to the memorial itself. It was strangely deserted, given the time of day, and in the tranquil silence I thought I could hear the gurgle and burble of running water, somewhere far away and out of view.

"This is...nice," I said, eventually, and took a deep, relaxing breath, "When all this is over, I think we should come back here."

"Sure, when all this is over," Clint said shortly, and with a rustle of paper he unfolded the map, "So, we're here, an' we're lookin' for 'Barrington' an' 'Barton'. Reckon those two've gotta be pretty close together, so-"

"Hold on," I said, "You're not suggesting that we gatecrash whatever it is he's doing for Flora, are you?"

"That's exactly what I'm suggestin'."

"But…doesn't that seem a bit much?"

"What, compared to everythin' they've done to us?" he pointed out sharply, "'Sides, if we can get the drop on him there then maybe we can put a spanner in their works. I ain't about to risk my family for the sake of some damn decorum."

He all but spat that last word, and I had to admit that he had a point.

"Yeah, okay," I said, "Lead on."

"Right," he said, and pointed down the walkway, "This way, first left, towards the end. C'mon!"

Clint carefully packed away the map, and then jogged quickly down the walkway and onto a side path, dusted with dogwood blossoms. Up ahead a flash of sunlight up ahead caught my eye, and when I peered curiously through the snowy boughs I spotted several tall metal columns, standing together in a small clearing. There were eight in total, octagonal in shape, and each brightly polished face bore a list of engraved names, large enough to be legible and deep enough to last. They stood evenly spaced around an inlaid marble circle, and in the very centre of the display a small fountain bubbled and flowed down an intricate granite sculpture.

"Laura-" Clint began urgently, as I turned off the path to get a closer look. As I approached, I could feel a sense of peace, but also sadness and unutterable sorrow, hanging over the columns like a cloud.

"Just a moment, please," I said quietly, "I'm guessing this is one of the monuments?"

There was an annoyed grumble from behind, followed by a rustle of paper, "Yeah, it is. It says here that-" there was a cough, "-'The octagonal shape of the monuments is intended to signify our promise that the world will be rebuilt anew after the Snap, while the circle in which they're embedded represents our undying love and devotion for those who were taken."

"But...there's so many names!" I said, almost wonderingly, "All these people…"

"Five hundred on each column," Clint said, looking at his map, "And there's eight of 'em, so-"

"Four thousand...my God," I felt a lurch inside as I ran my fingers over the nearest face. Until the Blip, every one of these names had represented a life cut short, and a brutally shattered world for those left behind. They barely scratched the surface, too; all around us I could see other tell-tale flashes, glinting deep within the forest. Did each one really represent another four thousand people murdered by Thanos? How could there be so many?

"There were six million people in Missouri in 2018, hon," Clint said solemnly, obviously reading my expression, "Three million people got Snapped, and that ain't countin' those who died in the aftermath."

I nodded, silently. I'd been aware of the scale of the Snap, at least on a numerical basis, but now I was being confronted with actual names, actual people? It was almost beyond imagining, "So...how many of these are there?"

"Six thousand."

"Six...six thousand?"

"Yeah. All in groups of eight, like this one," he flipped the map over so I could see, "Over seven hundred and fifty separate memorials."

"Christ, Clint," I said, "I thought I understood it. I thought I understood what the Snap meant, but seeing it like this makes it…"

"Real?"

"Yeah," I said, "And maybe that's why Thera dragged us here. Maybe he wanted me to see this, y'know, from ground level. I dunno; maybe he wasn't thinking about this at all, but-"

"There's only one way to find out. We've gotta go find him."

We resumed our jog, but as we headed down the path I found myself thinking hard about what I'd just seen. Until now, I hadn't really thought about the enormity of the Snap, but now it was unavoidable. Every memorial we passed hammered the reality home, and I could see many more ghosting through the trees as we walked. Some of those victims were gone for good, casualties of plane crashes or other horrors, but for others the world had changed in the blink of an eye, mostly for the worse. They all needed help, of that I was sure, but only now was I beginning to realise what that actually meant. Was I actually up to the task of being Thera and Vi's 'Patient Zero'? Was anyone really up to that? I-

"Hey," Clint slowed and pointed up the footpath, "What's that?"

I followed his finger. A little way ahead, half-buried amongst the scattered blossoms, laid a single blood-red flower. It stood out brilliantly against the white dogwood petals, and with a look of curiosity Clint hurried over to pick it up. He turned it over and over in his hands, as if looking for clues, and then gave it to me for further inspection. To me it looked very similar to a rose, with a strong, spicy scent, but beyond that…?

"Well, what d'ya think?" Clint said, looking at me expectantly.

"It's a... flower?" I ventured, "C'mon, you know I can't even keep a cactus alive!"

"Sorry, hon. I'd forgotten about that," he said, "But still...Thera was carrying red carnations, wasn't he? If I was a carnation, I'm pretty sure I'd look like this."

"That's some amazing reasoning, babe," I said, flatly, "Really, first-class. You think he dropped this?"

"I reckon it's a safe bet," he said, "Recently, too. I don't think we're far behind. If we hurry, we might even be able to catch up with him before he reaches the memorial. C'mon!"

If I was being honest, I had to admit that I had a few misgivings about attempting to sneak up on Thera, but from Clint's body language it was pretty clear that this was about more than running him down. He'd had enough; enough of being mocked and talked down to, of mannequin parades, insulting songs, and most definitely enough of almost being blown to bits in a barely-controlled warehouse demolition. At this point, he just wanted to win, or at the very least make a statement that he wasn't about to roll over on their say-so. Was it futile? Probably. Was it stupid? Probably, but at least I could see where he was coming from.

A little further down the path I spotted another carnation, lying disconsolately in the middle of the road, and then Clint found a third poking out of the long grass. He picked it up, sniffed at it briefly, and then dropped into a low crouch.

"Yeah, he's close," he said, and surveyed the nearby memorials with a practiced eye, "One of these memorials must be- ah, gotcha, you limey bastard!"

"What? Where?" I said eagerly, and he gave me an odd look before pointing off towards a group of columns standing in the shade of a particularly tall dogwood tree. At first I wasn't sure what he was looking at, but then I saw a dash of red at the base of the furthest column and the faintest hint of movement. A figure dressed in grey was kneeling before the monument, and despite the heat they had a thick black beanie cap crammed on their head. It had to be Thera.

"Alright," Clint murmured, and with a slow, careful movement he unslung his bow and took an arrow from his quiver. The hollow rasp it made as it slid smoothly into his hand sent a shiver down my spine.

"Wait - wait!" I said, and spread my hands frantically, "Clint, just give me a chance to talk to him. Please. Two minutes."

"We tried your way before, Laura," he said, "And it almost got us blown to bits! I want to make sure that he understands that we're not goin' to be messed around anymore!"

"We want #273, Clint," I reminded him, "You said you weren't prepared to risk your family for the sake of decorum, right? Well, how is petty point scoring any better?"

"This ain't petty!"

"Yeah, it is," I smiled, "But I get it, Clint; I do - and when we've gotten our hands on #273 you can wave that bow around as much as you damn well please! Until that point, though, they're the ones in charge."

"I…" his shoulders slumped, "Yeah, you're right. An' sides, Rule One of bein' a mercenary is that you don't kill your debtors until after they've paid up. It ain't good for business."

"Or Coop's college fund."

"So...fine, you win, hon - but I'm comin' with you. I ain't trustin' him with your life, not after what they did at the warehouse."

"Can't say fairer than that," I said, "Thanks, babe."

Clint chuckled sardonically as we made our way across the blossom-strewn grass towards the nearest column. For all my bravado, this suddenly didn't seem like quite such a good idea, and my heart was pounding in my chest as I thought about what I was going to say. Should I make a demand? Appeal to his softer side? Remind him of the good times he had watching Samurai Unicorns with Lila? There were so many options...

...but as soon as we rounded the column, they all died on my lips. It was Thera, in all his beanie-hatted glory, and he was kneeling before the far column with the bouquet of carnations laid out just before him. His hands were resting on his knees in a vaguely meditative posture, and his breathing was long, deep, and even. Was he praying? From what Vi had said about their Goddess that seemed like a terrible idea, but why else would he be here?

While I ruminated, Clint took up a position in the lee of a monument and carefully nocked his bow. The carbon black tip glowed dully in the sun, and when I worriedly caught his eye he mouthed the words 'two minutes!' and gave me an encouraging wink. If nothing else, at least he believed in me, but that didn't bring me any closer to working out what I was going to say!

"So what? You didn't know what you were going to say when you talked to Maisie, or Patti, but you still did great work!" said my little inner voice, "So why not believe in yourself?"

Okay...well, step one was to avoid antagonising him, and where Thera was concerned that was easier said than done. I took a deep, calming breath and stepped quietly around the water feature, and as I did so I spotted a small, garish backpack sparkling in the sun. It looked like something out of Lila's wildest fantasies; brightly coloured, covered in glitter, and emblazoned with an armoured unicorn hurling a fireball. Clearly, my daughter had left a bigger impression on him than I'd thought.

"You know that's they're keeping #273, right?" said my little inner voice, "Now's your chance!"

I hesitated. God knew I was tempted, and why not? If #273 was in there, could anyone really blame me if I tried to grab it and run? Thera hadn't seen me yet, and if I moved quickly then maybe I'd be able to hand it off to Clint before he realised it was gone-

"Amazing, isn't it?" Thera said suddenly, and I jumped backwards in surprise, "The backpack, I mean. I don't think I've ever seen anything make Vi quite so angry."

"It's very... Lila," I said curtly.

"She's welcome to it," he said, with a casual shrug, "Because if Vi sees me with it again, I'm pretty sure she'll try to throttle me."

"At this rate, she's going to have to take a number."

"Oh?" Thera's voice dripped amusement, "That almost sounded like a threat, Laura."

"Maybe it was," I growled, and despite my best efforts I could feel the anger bubbling up inside. I'd just come here to talk; I'd just come here to talk, "I'll cut to the chase, Thera. You know why we're here."

"I do, and you're early," he said blandly, "Mind you, Vi did say you drive like a maniac."

"Clint drove."

"QED."

I took a deep breath. I wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of getting under my skin, "So what're you doing? Praying?"

"Remembering. For Flora."

"The woman who stabbed you at the Blip Centre, right?"

"Scratched me, at best," he said, "And honestly? Better me than her."

"You never actually said what happened," I said, "Just that she-"

"-she tried to kill herself," he said bluntly, "Although you may've guessed that already. She and her family were flying cross-country during the Snap. The pilots were Snapped, she was Snapped...her family wasn't. She couldn't cope."

"That's…"

"Pretty typical, actually," he said quietly, "I don't want to make light of everything your family's been through, Laura, but at the end of the day at least you're all together. Most people weren't that lucky."

"How's she doing?"

There was a long, awkward silence, broken only by the breeze soughing between the monuments.

"You're right; we should cut to the chase," he said abruptly, and I backed away slightly as he sprang to his feet, "I'm assuming that if you're here, Clint can't be far behind. Did he bring his bow?"

"You're damn right I brought my bow!" Clint declared, as he stepped out from behind the dogwood tree. In an instant, the bow was up against his shoulder and aimed straight at Thera's heart.

"Thank you, Goddess," Thera murmured, just loudly enough for me to hear, and then he smiled and raised his voice, "Alright mate? How's it going?"

"Don't waste our time, Thera," Clint said dangerously, "In fact, it'd be better for all of us if you'd just shut the hell up and hand us #273. We know what it is!"

"Goddess, I hope so. If you hadn't worked it out by now I'd be seriously concerned about the levels of lead in your drinking water."

"-so are you gonna hand it over, or..."

"Or...what? You're not going to shoot me."

Clint's grip tightened around the bowstring, "What makes you think that?"

"Because I've been on the exciting end of enough weaponry to know when someone's bluffing, mate," Thera said, "I'll admit, I'm very impressed at your level of self-control, but since we both know you aren't going to shoot me I'd really advise you lower that bow."

"Not until you give us #273!"

"Well, it's your choice," Thera shrugged, "But if someone happens along and sees you mugging me, then they're going to call the police. If they do, and we all get taken into custody, then this-" he nudged the glittery backpack with his foot, "-goes in the evidence locker. Personally I can't wait to see what they'll do when they see what's in it, and I'm pretty sure you'd never see the inside of a courthouse."

"He's right!" I said urgently, "Lower the bow! Let's just...all calm down."

Clint considered this for a moment, and then with an annoyed growl replaced the arrow in his quiver and shouldered his bow, "Alright; fine. So now what? Where're Vi an' Keame?"

Thera looked momentarily perplexed, "Vi's busy, but why on earth would I know where Keame is?"

"You really don't know?"

"Of course not! I mean, if I had to guess I'd say he's probably warming up for that bloody rally of his, but I'm not his secretary."

"So he's not comin' here?"

"Why would he be coming here? Who holds a rally in a graveyard?"

"Well, because…" Clint faltered, "We assumed that…"

"What? That he was joining us?" Thera said irritably, "Goddess! Haven't you learned by now not to assume anything? When have you ever been right?"

"So why'dKeame move his rally yesterday morning? Kinda convenient that he'd do that just after that break-in at Helix, don't you think?"

Thera's lips quirked, in a rather self-satisfied manner, "Maybe."

"Did you promise him #273 as well?" I said.

"Me? I've never spoken to him in my life," Thera said, "But...he might have received a phone call from a mutual acquaintance. Y'know, regarding a possible exchange."

"If we didn't show?"

"What do you think?"

"I don't know what to think!" I retorted, "I was this close to thinking you weren't an asshole; this close, Thera! But then you and Vi decided to go moonlighting as Ronin, and then when we came looking for answers you almost blew us up! Why the hell has gotten into you?"

"We needed to be sure you'd come."

"That's it? Most people would leave a note!" I shouted.

"Most people would stop and think for a second!" he said sharply, "Our warehouse just went up like a small sun! When the police come to investigate it, and they will, do you really want there to be anything that could possibly have the faintest chance of leading them back to you? Especially considering everything else we left there?"

"I-" I stopped, my retort dying on my lips, "Okay, that's...fair, I guess. But you still went too far!"

"Needs must. Like I said, we had to be sure that you'd come."

"An' how could you be sure?" Clint cut in, and Thera fixed him with a cold stare.

"Because of you."

"Me?"

"Yeah, you. We figured that Laura would probably laugh off most of that stuff, or at the very most chalk it up to Vi being...Vi, but you? Oh, it got right under your skin, didn't it?" Thera smiled, and it wasn't a particularly nice smile, "It's kinda odd, really; I figured you were the only Avenger who wasn't a walking pile of unresolved neuroses. 'Never would've marked you down as being insecure."

"I'm not insecure!"

"Oh no?" Thera's eyebrows went up, "Come on, Clint, if you weren't we wouldn't have been able to drag you all the way across the state, bow drawn, for the cost of ten busted up mannequins and a song Poppy found for us on the Internet. You want #273, sure, but I'm guessing you also wanted to make a point about how you're not going to be messed around anymore, right? You wanted to come here, wave your bow in my face for a second time, and tell me that you should be treated with the respect and deference that a man of your station deserves!"

"Well…when you put it like that..." Clint's eyes flicked guiltily in my direction, "I did help bring you back, you know."

"Curiously enough, I am aware of that little fact," Thera said, and buffed his fingers on his top, "Look, Clint; do you want me to let you in on a little secret?"

"...go on."

"You've got no reason to feel insecure, you damn muppet!" he flared, "We've seen your file! Top flight S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent? Strike Team Delta? Avenger? You've racked up more medals, commendations, and awards than myself and Vi combined, and that's just your day job! Off the clock, you got together with Laura here, built a fantastic home together, and had three great kids who absolutely sodding adore you-"

"Yeah, but-"

"-but for some reason which, let's be honest, is probably deeply stupid, you've decided to ignore all of those accomplishments and instead got all pissy 'cause you couldn't measure up to a literal Norse god! It's...it's…-" Thera paused, and waved his hands in the air as he searched for the right word, "-ridiculous, and if you continue to let people get under your skin like that one of these days it's going to get you sodding killed!"

In the silence that followed Thera's voice echoed off the nearby monuments, and he put his hand over his mouth with a look of embarrassment. While he looked irritated and frustrated, his body language radiated sincerity; if nothing else, he clearly believed what he'd said.

"Um, sorry," he said, in a rather quieter tone of voice, "Got a little carried away there."

"I think we're both gettin' carried away," Clint said, but then he smiled, "Huh; if I didn't know better, I'm pretty sure I jus' heard you complimentin' me."

"Maybe," Thera inclined his head slightly, "And you're not the only one who gets insecure, you know."

"You're right. An' I guess you're right that I shouldn't let people get to me," Clint said, "It's just...after everythin' that's happened-"

"I get it," Thera said, "Hopefully that all ends today."

There was a long, uncertain silence, and the atmosphere crackled with tension and uncertainty. While it definitely felt like a cease-fire had been reached, between Thera's natural prickliness and Clint's willingness to lock horns it would only take one false step for a resumption of hostilities. At this point, that was something we really couldn't afford.

"It's going to happen if you don't step in soon," said my little inner voice, "Thera's more of a mess than usual. Isn't that strange?"

I had to agree. For someone who was supposedly in complete control of the situation, Thera didn't seem like he was in control. He'd started out cold and aloof, even cracking jokes at our expense, but it hadn't taken much for that mask to crack. What had shone through was very interesting; despite the irritability and anxiety, there was also care, concern and even respect, admittedly delivered in what was possibly the most backhanded manner imaginable. That made no sense; if he really was thinking about throwing us to the wolves then why would he be worried about us? What the hell was going on in his head?

"He's conflicted; any idiot can see that. He's trying to put forward the image that he's some calm, collected operator that'll do whatever it takes to get the job done, but you can tell his heart's not in it."

"Mmm…" I said, and gave Thera an appraising look. His brow furrowed in response.

"You should probe deeper. Whatever's really going on, he's not just going to tell you; you'll have to tease it out of him."

"Okay," I said, and exhaled hard, "In the end, none of this actually matters. What matters is #273, right? We're here, so what do we need to do to get you to hand it over?"

"Hold on. When I said you had to be here, do you really think I meant this specific memorial?" Thera snorted, "Don't get me wrong; I'm sure Flora's glad for the company, but you're early."

"Y'see, that's kinda settin' alarm bells off in my head," Clint said, "It kinda sounds like you're plannin' on usin' us for something."

"Using you? No, but I want you to see it," he said, "And I want you to be seen. More to the point, I want your bow to be seen."

"My...bow."

"Yeah," he said, "Iron Man has his armour, Captain America has his shield and that cracking arse of his, and Hawkeye has his bow. Without it you're just some bloke with arm tats and a mid-life-crisis haircut, and I'd be willing to bet most people couldn't reliably pick you out in an identity parade of one."

"Charmin'. So all we gotta do is be 'seen'?" Clint asked, "We don't have to do anythin'? That's it?"

"I'd rather you didn't, if at all possible," Thera said, "And afterwards you can ride off into the sunset and never have to worry about us again. You'll be as free as a bird."

"Uh-huh. That sounds a bit too simple for my likin'."

"Yeah, I'm with you, hon," I said, and turned to Thera, "It's too good to be true; you're trying to implicate us in something, right?"

"Nope."

"Then you need us to distract someone, don't you."

"Not at all."

"Then what? What're you going to do?

"Ah...it'd be safer for you if you didn't know; plausible deniability and all that," Thera said, "Rest assured, though; it's going to be spectacular."

"'Spectacular'?" I gave him a sharp look, "This 'thing' is why Vi isn't here, isn't it."

"Maybe," he said, with another small smile.

"Oh, hold on," I said, and felt a sudden chill come over me, "You're going to assassinate Keame, aren't you? At his rally?"

"That's one hell of a leap, and no. If we wanted him dead, he would've been found slumped over his desk several days ago having had a stress-induced aneurysm," Thera said, in a chillingly matter-of-fact tone, "Telekinetic capabilities and medical training make for a pretty deadly combination, if you're so inclined."

"Then-"

Thera held up his hand, "You can keep guessing if you want, Laura, but I'm not going to tell you. You'll just have to wait and see."

I looked over at Clint, "What do you think, hon?"

"I dunno," he said, "Trouble is, I ain't sure we got much of a choice. At the end of the day, we kinda need #273."

"Yeah, I know."

"And besides, I ain't never had an opportunity to see what passes for 'spectacular' when Vi's involved," Clint said, "You promise that Laura'll be safe?"

"To the best of my abilities."

"Then...fine. I'm in, but afterwards? You an' I are gonna have a nice, long talk about what happens to people who blackmail us."

"I'm quivering in anticipation," Thera said, "So how about you, Laura?"

I opened my mouth, but then something suddenly felt...wrong. While I'd had no idea what to expect from this meeting, it was pretty safe to say that it wasn't this. If Thera could be believed, all we'd have to do was go somewhere, make sure that Clint was 'seen' by whoever apparently needed to see him, and then head home to smash #273 to pieces with a lump hammer. No more #273, no more Ronin, no more mercenaries coming to burn our farmstead to the ground, and maybe we'd even get back in time to stop the kids from spending their way into a diabetic coma! It all seemed so simple...so why was I hesitating?

Because...if it really was that simple, why wasn't Thera acting like it? If I could just get inside his head-"

"You're already inside his head!" the little voice said, a bit peevishly, "Or at least the next best thing. Think about it; both Clint and Vi said that you're like Thera, right, so what does that mean? It means Thera is like you! Can you think of any circumstance, any at all, where you'd be willing to put his nieces and nephews in danger?"

"No," I murmured, and my eyes went wide as realisation dawned, "No. Of course!"

"Right. But he's not just going to admit that, is he? Corner him, pin him down and then we'll see what he's got to say."

"Laura?" Thera repeated, "You there?"

"Yeah, I am," I said, "Can I ask you a question?"
"Shoot."

"Hypothetically speaking...if we hadn't turned up, or if I said 'no' and walked away, what would you do? Would you sell it to Keame?"

"Um, Laura?" Clint began, but I held up my hand.

"Answer the question, Thera."

"Honestly? I hadn't considered that possibility," he said. His tone was even, but his gaze bored deeply into my skull, "It's probably better if none of us have to find out."

"You see, that's where I have a problem," I replied, just as evenly, "And that problem is that blackmail only works if the blackmailer is actually willing to follow through with the threat. You guys aren't capable of that."

"I'm not sure you know me well enough to make that judgement."

"Actually, I know you a whole lot better than you think," I smiled briefly, "You are trying very, very hard to be someone you aren't, Thera. This whole cold, cocky, superior attitude you've got going on? It's not you, and it's never been you."

"Oh, no?"

"No. Look; I wasn't lying before, I really did think you were an asshole. The first time I met you, I thought you were this superior, chilly, arrogant jerk who had absolutely no business being a therapist! In fact, we walked out of that counselling session suspicious as hell and desperate to take you down a peg or two. I get it now; you were antagonising us to make us team up and spur us into action, but my God you were good at it!"

"Years of practice."

"But then I got to know you, and the more you talked the more I realised that behind that chilly facade was a guy who genuinely cared about people. I mean, you bandaged my hand-"

"That reminds me," Thera said, and snapped his fingers at Clint, "First chance I get, we're going over your bandaging technique."

"-or talked to Coop-"

"-bright kid-"

"-or saved the lives of Flora and those kids at the Blip Centre!"

"I hate to burst your bubble, but I was just doing my job," Thera said, "There's no shortage of medical professionals who are also utter bellends."

"Okay, so what about Bulgakov?"

"What about him?" Thera said, and then something seemed to occur to him, "Oh! He's flying up to New York tomorrow, by the way. With Sophia and their kid."

"That's only thanks to you," I said, "You knew that bringing him back from the brink was going to blow your cover, but you did it anyway. No way were you just 'doing your job'."

"What was I meant to do?" for a moment, Thera looked genuinely confused, "Leave him to bleed out?"

"If you were an asshole, you would've declared him beyond saving. I saw how kind you were to him, Thera, and then I saw you sobbing over him in the infirmary! I'm sorry, but there's no way that someone that compassionate is capable of condemning my children to the same fate. You're bluffing."

Thera glared at me in silence, and then folded his arms in a show of defiance. I had him bang to rights, and he knew it.

"Oh, don't look at me like that," I said, and gestured towards the glittering bag, propped up against the water feature, "Want me to go on? How about how you watched Samurai Unicorns with Lila? You even wore the hat!"

"She... was very insistent about the hat," he said, with a faint quirk of the lips.

"And you expect me to believe that you're going to throw her under the bus?"

"You do," he said, defensively, "Or you wouldn't be here."

"Actually, that was 'cause of me," Clint said, honestly, "I'm the one who thought you'd be draggin' Keame into this."

"Uh-huh."

"But now you've got me thinkin'. I reckon Laura's right, an' if you're bluffing that means you ain't got a hold on us anymore. We could just turn around an' drive right back home, an' there wouldn't be anything you could do to stop us!"

"There's actually quite a lot of things I could do to stop you, you know."

"Yeah, but you won't. You didn't do anythin' to hurt those mercs who came after you, so why us?" Clint snorted, "You're all bark and no bite."

"Better than being all bite and no teeth."

"Ah, I ain't gonna rise to that," Clint grinned, "Not now you've told me how you really feel."

"Oh, you're learning? Wonders never cease," Thera ran his fingers across his hat, "But you're right. I'm not going to stop you if you want to walk away, and...I would understand. It was always a risk."

"That's it?"

"That's it," he shrugged, "Of course you wouldn't be getting #273, but that's your risk. Happy to take it?"

"If you ain't gonna sell #273 to anyone, what're you gonna do with it?"

"Well, um…" Thera faltered, but rallied magnificently, "I kind of feel like that's our business, don't you?"

There was a chilly silence, and then Clint actually laughed, "You know what, Thera? I've gotta hand it to you. I reckon Nat'd be proud of this kind of skulduggery."

Thera gave him a wary look, "What do you mean?"

"I mean...we know you're bluffing, and you know you're bluffing, but now you're sayin' that if we don't do what you want then we'll have to spend the rest of our lives lookin' over our shoulders in case someone accidentally finds it? Amazin'!"

"Accidents do happen."

"Not with you, they don't," Clint said, "An' you know what? I reckon you'd take the proper precautions, but you an' I both know there's always goin' to be that little nigglin' thought in the back of my head that'll be sayin' 'what if somethin' goes wrong'? That's...fiendish!"

"I've been called a lot of things by a lot of people," Thera said, "But 'fiendish'? That's a new one."

"I'm serious! I mean, how long's it been since the Blip? Six weeks?"

"Yeah. So?"

"So in that time you've gone from a standing start in a cornfield, to bein' able to jerk both Keame and us around usin' the idea of #273, an' I'll bet you never heard of before the Snap. Hell, the way you've gone about it, it's almost like you didn't need the real thing at all."

A cold shiver ran through me, as if I'd been immersed in ice water, and I suddenly found myself quite short of breath. Was that it? Was that the truth? I knew that Thera and Vi took pride in being two steps ahead of the competition, so he must have known that exposing his bluff wouldn't actually break his grip on us. If that was true, though, why would he bother with the obfuscation? What if he was actually covering for something else entirely, something larger, or...maybe the fact that he'd never had a hold over us in the first place? To my mind, there was only one thing that could possibly fit the bill: Thera didn't have #273!

But...that didn't make any sense! For a start, Keame wouldn't have moved his entire rally at such short notice if he didn't have something credible to go on. Also, why wouldn't they? Surely two mystics, backed up by Bennett and Sophia Bulgakov, would've been able to crack Helix International like a nut, and those two goons certainly hadn't disposed of themselves. They had to have it, right?

Unless…of course!

"Wait a second, Thera," I said, and both Clint and Thera stepped back in surprise, "Wait a goddamn second!"

"What?" he sighed, "What now, Laura?"

"Something's been bugging me about all of this, and I think I've just worked out why!"

"What's bugging you?"

"You!" I said, triumphantly, "I'll admit, I had no idea what to expect when I got here, but you've been acting really, really weird the whole time. You're not enjoying this; you're hating it!"

"I dunno," Thera said, with rather false levity, "It's had its moments."

"Oh, c'mon! You need Clint, don't you," I said, "That's the reasonbehind everything that's happened today, isn't it? If we didn't turn up or walked away now, your plans would go up in smoke!"

"I did say it was a risk."

"I know it's more than a risk, Thera," I said, "Because when Clint mentioned it, you touched your hat."

"That may be the most ridiculous leap of logic I've ever heard," he said, "And there's some pretty tough competition, let me tell you."

"It's not that ridiculous. You remember when Vi stole your last beanie? She joked that you'd at least be able to run your fingers through your hair, but... that's actually your tell, isn't it? I've only seen you do it before when someone's really stressed you out, like Strange."

"So?"

"So it seems odd that you'd be so scared by the thought of us leaving, don't you think? Unless, of course, you really didn't have any way of stopping us..."

"Think what you want," Thera said. His tone was icy, but I could see the conflict raging just under the surface. Just a little push, and I was sure he'd say what I needed to hear...

"Fine. Have it your way," I said coldly, "Clint, hon? Pack up your bow; we're leaving."

"Really?" Clint looked surprised.

"Yeah," I said, and my gaze bored into Thera's eyes, "Clearly, whatever's happening around here, it's not important enough for Thera to tell us the truth, so let's go check out our memorial and head home!"

"If you're sure-"

"I'm sure. Let's go," I turned on my heel and walked briskly back across the circle, gently touching Clint on the arm as I went.

"What're you doin'?" he hissed.

"Just keep walking; he'll break!" I whispered confidently, "In one...two...thr-"

The sound of Thera's resolve breaking was nearly audible, and I felt a mixture of pity and satisfaction as I heard him sag against the monument.

"Wait…hold on," he said, in a soft, defeated tone, "What do you want me to say?"

As I turned back around, I gave Clint an arch look and whispered 'told you so!' before drawing myself up. Without his air of careful control, Thera looked lost and surprisingly vulnerable, but I maintained my composure as I walked back towards him with slow, measured steps.

"What do I want?" I said, in a cool, calm voice, "I want you to tell me that the whole reason you've gone so crazy today is because you're desperate to fulfill your contract. You're doing everything you can to make sure that happens because if you're terrified that if you fail, Vi'll be taken away by your Goddess."

"She told you about that, huh?" even now, Thera managed a small smile, "So what would you say if I said that?"

"Well, I'd tell you that you're a goddamn idiot, and honestly I want to throttle both of you for being so untrusting!" I said sharply, but then my voice began to quiver, "But I'd also tell you that Vi's my friend, Thera. She's saved my life, twice, and if there's anything I can do for her then of course I want to help! But I also need you to tell me the truth. Please."

"From your tone, I'd say you already know it."

"I need you to say it," I said, "And I know why you can't. You're scared that if you do, there's a tiny possibility that we'll just turn on our heels and go home, right?"

"I can't leave anything to chance, Laura. Not with Vi," Thera said, blinking back sudden tears, "You know that."

"I know," I said gently, "So that's why I'm going to make it easy for you. If you've done what I think you did with #273, then I promise you, absolutely promise you that Clint and I will do whatever you want. If I'm lying, you can set your Wisps on me or turn me into a frog or...anything!"

"Hah," he snorted, "You know I wouldn't. Or couldn't."

"Yeah, I know. But I also know that only the idea of #273 has value to you. The actual thing? It's worthless. You'd never sell it to Keame or anyone else, but you also wouldn't keep it around because it might fall into their hands. The truth is..." I took a deep breath. Time to see if my belief was worth a damn, "The truth is you destroyed it, didn't you. You deleted it, or you-"

"-stole the server, heated it above its Curie temperature, smashed it with a hammer, ground the pieces into dust, and scattered the dust evenly all the way between Helix International and the Blip Centre," Thera said, and with a faint smile he added, "Hey, we had to be sure."