Chapter 41: Back to Reality - Part One

"Really? You mean it?" I leapt to my feet, a heady mix of excitement and relief rushing through my veins. "I can go home? I can see my—" my voice caught, and I could feel tears pricking at my eyes. "—my kids?"

"Hey, it's okay," Vi said kindly, and threw a companionable arm across my shoulders. "I told you you could believe in them, didn't I?"

I smiled, and wiped at my eyes with my free hand, "I know, I know. I just…I really thought this was it, you know?"

Strange shared a brief, uncertain look with Thera. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Laura. Even routine surgery is risky, and what we're suggesting here is cutting edge, magical neurosurgery. There will likely be…complications."

"What kind of complications?" Vi's eyes narrowed, and she stepped forward and plucked a small chunk of something from Thera's cheek. "And why do I feel this is related to you being covered in glop?"

"Well, um…" Thera hesitated. "Our first six attempts may have ended with, um…"

"The spontaneous, energetic disassembly of the sample," Strange said. "He just happened to be holding them at the time."

"Of course he was," Vi raised a critical eyebrow. "So why're you so clean?"

"You know what they say, Viola. Everything in life is location, location, location." he said, with that irritatingly superior smile of his. "Besides, the last person who tried to wash my cloak wound up in the concussion ward."

"Of course he did," she rolled the chunk between her fingers, and flicked it disdainfully across the room. "In any case, Sparky, you're showering before you come to bed. I'm not washing fruit juice out of my hair. Not again."

"We'll worry about that later. Check out these thaumic structures!" Thera said enthusiastically, and held up the glowing fruit again for her inspection. "Aren't they amazing?"

"They're…very pretty?" Vi conceded.

"I know! You see, I kind of figured that our magics could be woven together, just like your old body armour. That didn't work at all, but then Strange suggested that we use a laminar structure and the entire construct pretty much self-assembles! Look; it all falls into…wait, why're you looking at me like that?"

"Because, my Sparky, I love it when you get all fired up like this," Vi said, and smiled coyly. "In fact, this kind of reminds me of our first kiss."

Strange coughed. "Be that as it may, I was surprised at how elegantly simple the solution proved to be. Despite some…setbacks—" his gaze flicked to Thera's juice-drenched clothes. "—we've made significant progress in just seven attempts. With a couple more iterations—"

"—a 'couple more iterations'? We're out of time!" Thera said sharply. "And apples, for that matter."

"There were oranges."

"Now you're just being ridiculous. Look!" With some care, he yanked the apple free of its cage and threw it over his shoulder. The construct remained, glittering and glimmering in the palm of his hand. "See? It's ready, Strange! It's—"

There was a faint, almost ethereal crack, and I saw Thera's eyes widen a split-second before the construct exploded into a cloud of blue-gold motes. The tiny stars hovered around the mystic, snapping and sparking angrily, and as they faded into nothingness the unmistakable, acrid stench of ozone filled the air.

"—stable," Thera concluded flatly. "Bloody hell. I thought we had it that time!"

"I told you; more haste, less speed," Strange intoned, and caught a withering look from Thera.

"Yes, I know! I just…I really thought that one would work! Goddess!"

"Thought what would work?" Clint's voice came from the doorway, and we all looked to see him staring angrily at Strange and Thera. "Wait; were you going to use that on Laura?"

"Don't be absurd," Strange said, quite calmly. "That was a prototype, Clint. There's still a few bugs to work out."

"A 'few bugs'? That damn thing exploded!"

"A complication. Something to be expected when dealing with something this…complex," Strange said, and now there was a hint of irritation in his voice. "But since you're such an expert on the matter, perhaps you'd like to point out where Thera went wrong."

Clint held up his hands. "Point taken. I'll let you work."

"You're too kind."

"Hah; that's one way of putting it," Thera said, and blew out his cheeks. "So…oranges?"

Once again, there seemed to be nothing I could do but wait. At Strange's direction, Clint vanished back downstairs and returned carrying a bowl filled with whatever fruit he could find. Thera surveyed his bounty with a critical eye, selected one, and then the magic duo got down to business with a shower of sparks and a warm, blue-gold glow. I flitted around in the background as they worked, desperate for signs of progress, but judging from Thera's litany of curses (and the occasional shower of finely-shredded rind) it seemed to be slow going, at best.

Vi, for her part, seemed totally unconcerned by this setback. She was bent over Keame's desk, scribbling away furiously with a pen and piece of purloined paper. What was she up to? Sketching? Writing? I had no idea, but whatever it was she seemed to be unusually focused on the task at hand. When she caught me looking she smiled encouragingly, winked, and then returned to her doodles.

I sighed, and flopped down irritably on the sofa. It was easy for her, wasn't it? Oh, sure, she might appear to have an unshakeable faith in her fiance, but then it wasn't her damn brain on the chopping block! No matter what happened tonight, she'd be riding off home with her 'Sparky', while I—

Clint sat down quietly beside me. "Hey hon. How're you doing?"

"I'm okay, I guess," I smiled weakly. "Just…thinking uncharitable thoughts."

"Thought so. I'd know that scowl anywhere," he said, and pulled me in close. "So, listen…I got a text from Coop a couple minutes ago. My phone died just as I was readin' it, but—"

"Really?" I said eagerly. It was a pretty naked attempt at a diversion, but I was more than willing to play along. "How're they doing?"

"Nate's okay, Lila's okay, he's still pissed," he said, with a wince. "You know Coop; he's got a long temper and takes even longer to cool off. Kinda like you, in fact."

I ignored that. "Are they heading home?"

"Nah. They're headed to Maisie's for now. Thera paid her to look after 'em, so she's going to look after them."

"And her parents are okay with that?" I asked, somewhat dubiously. "Those three can be quite a handful."

Vi looked up, a nasty glimmer in her eye. "Oh, I shouldn't worry about that. I made it pretty clear to Mr. Bennett that there'd be penalties for disobeying me."

"This is your doing? I thought Thera—"

"—laid the groundwork, sure, but carrots always work better when there's a stick lurking in the background," she said, and rolled her eyes at my disapproving expression. "Don't look at me like that! That muppet gave Keame everything he needed to get his hands on #273!"

"In exchange for his son! C'mon, Vi; we've all done stupid things for the one we love!" I said, and raised an eyebrow. "In fact, something tells me that you've practically built a career on that."

Vi smiled bashfully. "Well, there may have been one or two times — but there were still consequences! Considering what could've happened, I'd say that a night of enforced in loco parentis is getting off pretty sodding lightly!"

"I suppose…and she's got that nice house, too!" I nudged Clint. "Y'know, maybe spending the night in a mansion, with Maisie, is just what Coop needs to cool his jets."

Vi bit her lip. "Um, yeah, about that. I may have—"

There was a brilliant flare of light from across the room, and then a cry of, "Are you kidding me? It was that simple?"

I looked up. Thera and Strange were standing over an ornate, sparkling cage, hovering just above the boardroom table. To my inexperienced eye, it looked just like the one that exploded, but Thera was glowering as if its mere existence was some kind of personal affront.

"Well, this seems promising," Strange observed, carefully setting an orange down on the table beside it. "All the others had failed by this point. Spectacularly."

"Of course they failed!" Thera snapped. "Because we were so focused on the damn construct that we never considered the damn subject! It must have inductively coupled, or something, and then when we removed it—"

"—we were effectively tearing the construct to pieces. Yes," Strange gave Thera a severe look. "And had you taken a more systematic approach from the outset instead of diving headlong into making construct after construct, we may have realised this some time ago. This is exactly what I meant when I warned against getting emotionally involved!"

"Yeah," Thera closed his eyes and exhaled. "Yeah, you're right. Sorry."

Strange's gaze softened. "That being said, it is possible that the reason we've here at all is because you're too emotionally involved to concede defeat. Whoever sent you and Viola clearly knew who they were choosing."

"You know, that almost sounds like a compliment."

"An observation, nothing more," Strange said, but there was a slight twinkle in his eye. "Now, how about we wrap this up? Wong gets jumpy if I don't check in with him."

"Can't imagine why," Thera turned back to us. "Well, guys? I think we're ready."

"You are?" I said excitedly.

"You do?" Clint said, in a rather more dubious tone. "'Cause, y'know, you said that earlier, and—"

"Thank you, yes, I was there," Thera replied pointedly. "And fine, that construct may have seemed like a bomb waiting to go off—"

"—it did go off!"

"But that's true of all of them! Even this one!" Thera snatched up the cage hovering above the desk, and it shimmered and sparked in protest. "In the end, what we're dealing with is pure magical energy compressed into a shape that it really doesn't want to be in! If it's not precisely balanced then the containment fails and—"

"That's what I mean! Can you balance it?" Clint asked, his expression sharp. "Can you promise me it ain't gonna go off while you're messin' around with Laura's brain?"

Thera and Strange exchanged a long, grave look, and then he shook his head. "No, of course we can't promise you that. We've never done this before. Nobody's done this before."

"But—"

"But I promise you that we'll do everything in our power to make it work," Thera went on. "Believe me, I wish we could give you a guarantee, but—"

"Don't," Clint said firmly. "I get it. It's just…"

"Eyes on the prize, hon," I said, and patted him on the arm. "We're going home, remember? Takeout, nice bottle of wine? It's going to happen."

"If you're sure," Clint said, and sighed. "And I suppose we don't really have much of a choice, do we?"

"Not really," I looked at Thera. "So what happens now?"

"Well, I guess we give you a bit of spiel about things you already know, you sign the form that Vi's writing—"

"—finished!" Vi called, as if on cue. There was a clack as she threw the pen down on the desk, and then came running across the room to join her fiance, paper fluttering in her hand. "Sorry 'bout the wait."

"—and then we get cracking!" Thera nudged Strange. "You want to do the honours, mate?"

"Of course not," Strange said, and brushed fastidiously at his arm. "This is your show, 'mate'; I'm merely the expert advisor without whom none of this could have happened."

"Sure you are. Well, here goes nothing…"

Thera straightened, and something about him changed. It wasn't much; he was still a slight, bedraggled figure, covered in grime and blood, but for some reason he seemed more present. It was as if he'd somehow faded into the foreground, while the world and everyone around him became a little bit fuzzier and indistinct. I stared, and out of the corner of my eye I could see Vi watching me closely, a mysterious smile dancing on her lips.

"Ms Laura Barton," Thera said, in a curiously formal tone. "Having carried out an assessment of your condition and treatments available, it is the collectively agreed opinion of your medical team that we carry out a…a…oh, blow—" he turned away, and I heard him mutter. "What're we calling this, exactly?"

"The Strange technique?" Strange said, with a surprisingly roguish grin.

"Oh, go jump in a lake," Thera said, and turned back. "—an advanced thaumic…treatment."

"Good save. You're doing great."

A look of irritation flashed across Thera's face, but his voice remained calm and composed. "As you may be aware, all medical interventions carry hazards, with attendant risks. Due to the experimental nature of this treatment, we are forced to assume that these will can include anything up to and including severe disablement or even death. I will stress that last point; this treatment may prove fatal. Do you understand?"

I nodded silently.

"Sorry, but I need to hear you say it."

"Oh, um…" I hesitated. There was something distinctly off putting about that unwavering emerald gaze. "I understand."

"Good," Thera glanced briefly at Vi. "You got the C-8?"

"Right here!" Vi produced her piece of paper with a flourish, and handed it to Thera for inspection. "I mean, I had to translate it, but I think it's correct. Most of it, anyway."

"I'm sure it's fine. We just need her signature," Thera said, and his solemn expression gave way to a smile. "A drop cap? Is this a medical consent form or a historical document?"

"Well, I figured it could use some freshening up. Y'know, a bit of pizazz," Vi shrugged. "All those C-forms are so dull!"

"You know what the Mother Superior thinks about 'pizazz', right? Anyway, Laura—" Thera handed me the piece of paper. Just as he'd said, the upper left hand corner of the page was dominated by an ornate 'C', wrapped in vines and wreathed in flowers. "—this basically sums up what I've told you, but you'll also see that you can withdraw consent at any time and for any reason. Until, of course, we actually get started."

"I'll admit, I didn't expect you to get a signature," Strange said. "Considering how far from home you are—"

Thera and Vi exchanged a look, and Vi shook her head emphatically. "Not far enough, Steve. When we get home—"

"—and you will—"

"—the Mother Superior is going to want a full report of everything we did, and when she reads about this the first thing she's going to ask is 'did you get a C-8'? Believe me, you do not want to be the person who says 'no'."

"Remember Willoughby?" Thera shuddered. "I heard they only found his belt."

"I heard he got a posting as a hermit who cackles madly at children," Vi said, and pouted. "Some people get all the luck."

"Quite. So long story short, we're going to want a signature," Thera said. "Is everything okay there, Laura?"

I looked hard at the C-8. While Vi's penmanship was undeniably beautiful, the combination of her elaborate cursive and strangely perfunctory English made actually understanding it a chore. Eventually I sighed, gave up, and looked at the expectant trio.

"I'm sure it's fine. I trust you," I said. "Hey, Vi. Can you get me that pen?"

"No need," Strange smiled, and produced a long, thin box from somewhere within the depths of his costume. "Blue or black ink? I've probably got some red in here somewhere, too…"

"And an inkwell, no doubt," Vi muttered, and Strange gave her an unamused look. "Oh, c'mon; you definitely sign things with a quill pen, Steve. In fact, I bet you've got something really esoteric, like a phoenix feather or something."

"Have you been listening to Wong? You shouldn't," Strange said loftily, as he flipped open the box and withdrew a slender black pen with a shining golden nib. "And for your information, it's a swan feather."

"Hah! I knew it!"

Strange rolled his eyes and handed me the pen. It felt light and well-balanced in my hand, and I wondered briefly how much it had cost. Probably far more than I was comfortable holding, for sure. Carefully, I set the homebrew 'C-8' on the table, and just as carefully held the nib just above the point where I was apparently meant to sign. A drop of black ink shimmered at the tip.

"I guess we're really doing this, aren't we?" I took a deep breath, and signed my life away. "Listen, Thera; whatever you need to do, just do it. If it doesn't work…well, it's definitely not for a lack of trying on your part. I couldn't have asked for a more dedicated medic."

"Well, time to see if that dedication paid off," Thera picked up the C-8, gave it another quick scan, and handed it to Vi. "You think that'll keep Ursula happy?"

Vi snorted. "I'm sure she'll be cock-a-hoop. Possibly even over the moon."

"Just as long as she doesn't break out the skinning knives. Pinky?" Thera held up his hand, and the scintillating ball of light whipped across the room and came to rest in his palm. Suddenly, my heart was beating out a nervous tattoo, and I reached out to take Clint's hand in an iron-hard grip. He winced and turned slightly pale, but said nothing.

"Okay, Laura," Thera went on, in a calm, quiet voice. "When I tell you, all I need you to do is sit up straight and look right at Pinky. Can you do that for me?"

I nodded, rather hesitantly.

"Thank you. You're going to be fine, okay?" he said, and gave me a reassuring smile. "Now like before, we're going to need to knock you out before we can get down to business, so Clint, I'll need you to keep Laura propped up while we go through the preliminaries. Once I'm happy everything's going the way it should, we'll worry about a more comfortable position. Can you do that for me?"

"Sure thing, buddy." Clint said, and put his arms across my shoulders. "Is this okay?"

"Whatever works for you. Just keep in mind that you might be holding that position for a little while, so make sure your arms aren't about to go to sleep."

"Anythin' else?"
"Close your eyes. I don't want to accidentally knock you out as well."

"Gotcha."

"Great. Vi? Strange?" Thera nodded to the duo, and they took up their positions beside the mystic. The atmosphere in the room was suddenly grave indeed, and I felt the faintest prickling of a cold sweat on the back of my neck. Everything was in place, now. This was it.

"So, Laura," Thera went on. "You were previously informed that you could withdraw consent at any point and for any reason, until we began the treatment. We have now reached that point. If you wish to withdraw, this is your last opportunity to do so."

"I don't," I said, bluntly. "Take your best shot."

"Good answer. Now, hold still…" Thera lifted his hand, palm out, and Pinky blazed to life like a miniature sun, filling my world with coruscating rays of blue and gold. I stared, transfixed by the hypnotic patterns, and felt her warmth gently massage away my aches and pains. With a sigh I melted into Clint's embrace, felt his hands tighten around my shoulders, and then a wave of intense, overpowering tranquillity washed over me. There wasn't anything to be scared of. Not anymore. Everything was going to be…fine…

"That's right, Laura." Thera's voice echoed strangely in my ears, lulling me to sleep. "Just relax. It's okay. It's all okay."

"Thuh…Thuh…" I tried to speak, and found myself struggling against a fat, limp tongue and a darkening mind. "Thera? Isss this…going to hurt?"

"No, Laura. I promise you; no matter what happens, you won't feel a thing…"

"Hey, Steve? I've got a question for you…"

Morning dawned, slowly and peacefully. For a long time I lay there, enjoying the warmth on my face and the feeling of clean, crisp linen under my fingertips. My alarm would be going off soon, for sure, but right now I intended to grab as much shuteye as I possibly could. After all, today was The Day of Reckoning; the day we were finally going to get some straight answers out of Thera and Vi! When my alarm went off, I'd go grab a relaxing shower, make a nice breakfast, and then we'd turn up at the flaming remains of their warehouse just before eleven to hear what they had to say. Simple!

Hold on; flaming remains? Where had that thought come from? And why did I suddenly feel so…uneasy? Excitement? Nerves? It was probably the latter, I decided. I mean, I didn't think that Vi would actually hurt us, but…she could be pretty scary when she wanted to be. Maybe that was it; in fact, it had to be. I settled back down into my warm, safe comforter, and tried to ignore the disquiet growing deep within.

"...when you were looking into the future, did you see any real howlers? Like, what was the stupidest reason you lost?"

There was that sound again. It was faint, just on the edge of hearing, but in the near-total silence it was loud enough to be annoying. I groaned, and reached out with my free hand to pat the bed beside me.

"Clint, honey?" I murmured. "Turn that podcast off, would you? I'm trying to sleep!"

There was no response, and my questing hand found only empty sheets. He must have heard me somehow, though, as scant moments later the voice faded away again. I lay back with a smile and snuggled down as best I could. After all, the house had never been this quiet, so I should probably—

Wait a minute.

I felt a sudden chill as realisation dawned. The house had never been this quiet, at least not since Coop had come along. My kids weren't the earliest of risers, but by now I should've at least heard something! Banging, thumping, possibly even the bombastic theme song of Lila's favourite show. It'd annoyed me on occasion, sure, but right now I wanted nothing more than to hear those power chords and poorly translated lyrics.

"Clint? C'mon, hon!" I called out, as I slowly opened my eyes. "If this is some kind of joke, it's in seriously poor holy shi—"

The curse died on my lips. Suddenly, I was wide awake and bolt upright, looking around the room with a wild mix of shock and terror. The sun…wasn't the sun! Instead of a ruddy morning glow, rays of gold and electric blue blasted through the windows in a blinding display of shifting, mesmerising light.

"Oh my god…" I murmured, and then cried out. "Coop? Lila? Nate? Where are you?"

Pure maternal instinct took over. With a yell of exertion I vaulted out of bed, trailing the comforter behind me, and made a dash for the bedroom door. Whatever madness was going on outside could wait; I had to find my kids! I had to—

My foot caught on something and sent me sprawling across the floor. I swore, loudly, and as I looked back I saw a flowy white nightdress settling around me. Where did this thing come from? A hospital? The fifties? I certainly didn't own anything like it, so why the hell was I wearing it?

"Doesn't matter!" I declared, although I could hear the tremolo in my voice. "Kids first, clothes later!"

I leapt to my feet, one hand shielding my eyes against the brutal glare. In that moment, the door handle rattled, juddered, and then with an explosion of wooden splinters the door itself was blasted clean out of the frame and smashed to pieces against the far wall. With a shriek, I dove for cover behind the bed.

"How unfortunate. Perhaps it was a 'push' door?" said a voice. It was a woman's voice, light and melodious, with a strong British accent. "Excuse me? Laura? Are you online?"

I stayed low, and scrabbled around on the ground for anything that I could use as a weapon. Who was this person? She knew my name, she knew where I lived, and she sounded like a Brit. Had Vi sent her? Had they dropped all pretence and called in the cavalry? I had no idea, but there was no way I was going to let her waltz around my house without a fight!

The floorboards creaked, ever-so-slightly, as the would-be intruder made her way across the room towards my bed. "Come on out, Laura. I have no intention of harming you. It will all be—"

My fingers curled around a long piece of wood, as thin and sharp as a stiletto dagger, and with a fierce war cry I sprang from behind the bed and drove it as hard as I could into her heart. There was a long, terrible silence, and then the figure looked down at the wooden shard protruding from a cloud of shimmering, glimmering motes.

"What a curious response," it said, quite cheerfully. "If you were aiming for my heart, you would have missed by ten point two four millimetres."

"I…I…" I stuttered, and staggered backwards into the vanity. A cloud of lights stood before me, assembled into a pretty good approximation of a tall, slender woman. In one hand she seemed to be holding a facsimile of a notepad, seemingly cast from the same mist, and as she turned her head to look around her smoky pony-tail danced and bobbed freely behind her. "Who are you? What are you?"

"Me? I am Pinky, Weaponised Independent Subconscious Projection. I was sent by Thera—"

"Thera sent you?" I growled, and snatched up my vanity stool. "I swear, Pinky, if he's hurt Clint or my children—"

"Please, Laura; your levels are spiking dangerously, and if you continue like this you risk a—" she consulted her notepad. "—'complete neural collapse'. You need to take a deep breath and calm down—"

"Calm down? Calm down?" I screamed, brandishing the stool like a club. "Where're my children? Where's Clint? And why the fuck am I dressed like a nativity angel?"

"I assure you; your children and husband are safe—"

"Are they? And why should I believe you?"

She inclined her head. "I am not capable of duplicity."

"And why should I believe that?"

"I…" Pinky looked out the window, and her shoulders slumped. "I cannot think of a reason why you should. However, if you could close your eyes and listen—"

"Oh no. No way am I taking my eyes off you! You'll…abduct me, or vaporise me or something!"

Pinky gestured, almost idly, and an invisible force wrenched the stool from my hands and set it down on the floor. "Laura, I am an extremely advanced, semi-sentient weapons system who could end your life in any number of innovative and unbelievably visceral ways, while you are a middle-aged woman of average fitness. If I wanted to hurt you, there would be very little you could do to stop me. As I have not, why not give me a chance?"

I considered this. After a moment, I had to concede, rather grudgingly, that the mystical cloud of energy might just have a point. "Okay, fine. But if you do kill me, I'm claiming a moral victory."

"Duly noted."

"Great," I said, and with that I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and listened as hard as I could. At first, all I could hear was the beating of my own heart, but as the panic slowly drained away I realised that there was something else. It was subtle, a susurrus in the silence, but with some effort I was just about able to make out a deep, baritone thrum:

"...one attempt, Clint and Natasha failed to return from collecting the Soul Stone. When we investigated, it transpired that they had thrown themselves simultaneously from the cliff edge in an attempt to save the other. Suffice it to say, the guardian was…uncomplimentary."

"Hah! Classic Hawkeye! Got any others?"

I opened my eyes. Pinky was sitting on the bed, looking at me with what appeared to be an air of quiet understanding. A glowing line on her face twitched up into a gentle smile, and she patted the bed beside her.
"Would you like to sit?" she asked quietly. "This is my first time doing so, but my logs indicate that this is an activity people undertake while discussing important matters."

I sat down next to her. "I…I don't understand."

"I know. Given your circumstances, some confusion is to be expected."

"Oh yeah? What are my circumstances?"

"You are experiencing a disruption in your short-term memory. This is a well-documented side effect of thaumic treatments, with almost all patients reporting complete or near-complete recovery in less than seventy-two hours."

"Wait." I held up a hand. "Patient? I've been hurt?"

"Critically."

My breath caught in my throat. "How?"

"You will doubtless remember shortly. However, I am pleased to inform you that your treatment is proceeding well. Our final task is to ensure that your mind is interfacing correctly with your new Eigenbridge Interface."

"My what?" I asked. In response, Pinky took my hand in a misty appendage and pulled me to my feet, before leading me to the window. I squinted, and shielded my eyes as best I could against the glare, but— "Christ, Pinky! Is that the Eigenthingy? It's like staring into the goddamn sun!"

"No, and I take your point. One moment, please," Pinky said. Quite calmly, she opened the window, leaned out into the storm of light and colour, and said, "Inky? You are causing our patient significant discomfort. Please desist."

There was a pause.

"I am aware that you require the bandwidth, but I must insist. Thera has tasked me with Laura's wellbeing, not you, and I can assure you that nobody is impressed by your attempts to maintain control over this situation. Please desist."

There was a brief pause, and then Pinky closed the window and stepped back. The light faded, receding away from the house, back across strangely fuzzy farmland and blurry forests, until finally it collapsed into a star-bright spot resting atop a dark, elegant tower that thrust from the ground and pierced the heavens. There was something coldly ominous about it, and as I stared a light flickered from the base to the top, crackling and jumping like lightning in a thundercloud.

I shook my head in wonder. "I suppose that this is the point where I'm meant to say 'We're not in Kansas anymore, Toto', and you say—"

"We were never in Kansas. We are in Missouri, and my name is not 'Toto'. It is Pinky."

"—right," I said. "So…a dream, then? Or am I in a coma?"

"On the contrary, you are fully awake. Additionally, your neural activity is within fully acceptable ranges."

"Are you kidding me? This—" I jabbed a finger at the tower in the far distance. "—isn't reality, Pinky! Sauron has not just set up shop in Missouri! I'm pretty sure he's meant to be in Transylvania, or at least somewhere with goddamn mountains! The 'Gentle Hillock of Doom' is not a thing!"

"Your levels are spiking again, Laura. Please try to remain calm."

"Then stop bullshitting me!"

"I am not. 'Reality', as you recognise it, is nothing more than your brain interpreting electrical signals generated in response to both internal and external stimuli. What you are seeing here is merely providing a… different set of stimuli."

"That's not what reality is! It's…it's—" I waved my hands indistinctly. "—too early in the morning for this discussion! It is morning, right?"

"No."

"Of course not. So this is kind of like a virtual reality, then?"

"That would be an apt term, yes."

"Okay…" I took a deep breath. "Okay, I can get behind that. So Clint's safe? My children?"

"Clint has not left your side since your treatment began. Your children are safe, at least according to a communique received three minutes and eighteen seconds ago. Apparently, the individual designated 'Maisie' possesses a house that is, and I quote, 'off the chain'."

"That sounds like Coop," I said, with a soft smile. "I miss them, Pinky. I miss them so much. It feels like I haven't seen them in years."

"I am sure you will see them shortly, Laura," Pinky reached out, almost uncertainly, and touched me gently on the shoulder. "There. There."

"Thanks, Pinky," I said, and gave the misty woman a smile. "You made my family hot chocolate, didn't you?"

"That is correct. Blinky stole the sugar."

"It was delicious. Thank you, and…I'm sorry I tried to murder you."

"That is of no concern. Your attempt fell within the zeroth percentile of assaults made against myself or my operator. It will likely form the basis of much merriment at a future date."

"Okay, don't rub it in," I said, and plucked at the sleeve of my strange white robe. "And what about this? I feel like Princess Leia in A New Hope."

"I do not know; this mindscape is based upon your memories. I have had no input in any aspect, especially those of a sartorial nature."

"Well, at least it's not that getup from the Return of the Jedi. I did that once for Clint, y'know, as a birthday surprise," I said and winced at the memory. "Never again. Too much chafing."

Pinky looked at me, as if unsure how to respond, and then said. "We should move on. I do not wish to keep you any longer than is necessary."

"No kidding. So…how do I get out of this place?"

"We should explore. The more you explore, the more your brain will be challenged. Once I am satisfied with your level of neural resilience, I will end the session and you will wake up."

"If you say so," I said, rather dubiously. "Lead on, Macduff!"

Pinky headed for the bedroom door, leaving a trail of twinkling lights in her wake. I followed behind, my mind racing as I tried to make sense of current events. Suffice it to say, this was not how I'd thought today would play out — although if Pinky was telling the truth, then 'today' had already happened. I'd been hurt, somehow, and now I was stuck in some kind of 'virtual' reality while a weapons system who'd once made me hot chocolate gave me a tour of my own house! None of that made any sense, so…why wasn't I more worried?

As silence descended, the whispers returned. I cocked my head and listened hard, hoping that they'd be able to shed more light on the situation.

"...I think the 'stupidest' outcome, by which I mean the most frustrating, occurred when we were on the very brink of victory. Thanos was dead, his army defeated, and as we were in the process of regrouping I heard someone say 'Hey, Ell? I'm starving! You reckon this thing can Snap us up some sandwiches?'. The world ended shortly thereafter."

"Yeah, that sounds like Sparky. Gets his hands on a device of unimaginable power; asks for a sandwich. He's a monkey's paw worst nightmare."

"And mine. I tried a number of times to avert disaster. However, it appears that not even Captain Danvers herself can come between your beloved and his BLTs…"

Well, that wasn't entirely helpful. On the bright side, I knew Vi's 'light and playful' tones when I heard them. That had to be a good thing, right? She wasn't the kind of person who was able to hide her feelings; if she was angry or worried or even murderous, I was sure I'd know about it.

"Laura?" Pinky said, intruding on my reverie. "Follow me, please."

With a faint sigh, I padded after the wispy woman onto the upstairs landing. It was almost exactly as I remembered it from the night before; comforting, homey. Family pictures lined the walls, framing smiling faces from a less complicated time, and I looked at them wistfully as we headed for the stairs. At one point, I thought I'd had all the time in the world, but since the Snap…

"Are you okay, Laura?" asked Pinky. "I've detected increased activity in your amygdala."

"I'm okay," I sighed. "It's just—"

I took a step forward, and my foot exploded into pure, unrelenting agony that sent white-hot sparks shooting up my calf. For a split-second I stood stock still, quivering with exquisite pain, and then howled and hopped away, clutching at the abused appendage.

"What's wrong?" Pinky enquired politely, as I whimpered and massaged my poor foot. "You appear to be in significant distress."

"You said this was virtual! How can I still feel pain—" I stopped. A small red block was peeking out from under the hem of my ridiculous nightgown. "Wait, what is that?"

"It appears to be a small, plastic block, possibly part of a child's construction playset."

"A lego block? Why is there a lego block on the floor?" I growled. "You did that on purpose!"

"I did no such thing. However, I was able to gather a significant amount of neural data as a result of that incident," Pinky said, and inspected her notepad. "We should see if there are other opportunities for you to injure yourself. Perhaps the stairs?"

"What? I'm not throwing myself down the stairs for your benefit!"

"None of this is for my benefit, Laura."

"Fine, then I'm not throwing myself down the stairs for my benefit! I—" I held up a hand as another whisper floated through the air. Strangely, it seemed to be coming up through the stairwell. "Wait, is that coming from the living room?"

"That is possible."

"It is! Come on!" I said, and brushed past the apparition. "Maybe this is what we're looking for!"

"...what did she just say? Was that 'lego'? What's that supposed to mean?"

I paused at the top of the stairs, one foot hovering in midair. "Clint?"

"Who knows? Seriously, sweetie, you're not helping anyone by leaping off your seat every time she makes a noise! Go and take a bloody shower!"

"No, I ain't moving 'till she wakes up! What if something goes wrong?"

"What if it does? What're you going to do except get in the way?"

"Well, I…um…"

"Listen to me, sweetie. No matter what happens here, it's only the beginning of a long road home. Laura's going to need you to be there for her every step of the way. Not me, not Sparky, not Strange, you. Everything depends on you, and that's okay, because somewhere inside that lumpy, misshapen, flea-ridden, tick-infested sack of meat you call home is actually a…a pretty great guy. Trouble is, you can't be that guy if your head isn't in the game, so if you don't step to and go shower then I swear I'll—"

"Okay, Vi; you've made your point. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Don't forget your leathers! You know how much she likes 'em."

"Seriously?" I snapped, but I could feel my cheeks prickling with heat as I stamped down the stairs. "This, coming from a grown woman who sleeps with a cuddly toy?"

"I could not possibly comment," said Pinky, carefully.

"Naturally. I…wait—" I frowned. "She told me that, didn't she? She…won a stuffed toy in a shooting contest, or something."

"That is correct," Pinky said, and looked at her notepad. "Fascinating."

"What is?"

"That information was divulged to you less than ninety minutes ago. For you to remember it now indicates an unprecedented rate of recall."

"Well, depending on what I remember, I'm either going to kill her or buy her a teddy bear so big it blots out the sun," I said, and strode into the living room. "The voices were coming from here, I think, so—"

I stopped, and stared at the dark, empty living room with a pang of disappointment. To be fair, I wasn't entirely sure what I'd been hoping for, particularly considering the day I was having, but part of me had been hoping to find signs of life besides myself and Pinky. I wasn't looking for much; a silhouette would've done, even, but this strange facsimile of my house was starting to feel more than a little lonesome.

With a sigh, I sat down on the sofa and stared listlessly through the window. It was dark outside, lit only by the ethereal glow of the so-called Eigenbridge Interface, and it looked cold. Frost covered the grass, twinkling in the ghostly light, and the air itself had that peculiar stillness that heralded the arrival of fresh snow. For some reason it struck a chord in me, somewhere deep inside, but for the life of me I couldn't figure out why. Whatever it was, though, it felt important.

"How very interesting," Pinky said, as she sat down lightly beside me. "And unexpected."

I laughed bitterly. "Why? Isn't this your doing? After all, you're the one who's trapped me here."

"I feel that that is an unfair description of this process. Would you prefer to die?"
"No. No, I suppose not," I said, and sighed again. "Sorry, it's just—"

There was a flash of light, somewhere out in the fields, and as I came to my feet in alarm a brilliant scarlet star arced up into the midwinter sky. It flickered, fizzled, and then with a thunderous report exploded into a million shining pieces that drifted lazily through the night.

"Ah," Pinky remarked, with a laconic air. "Ornamental artillery."

"Wait, I remember this," I said, and watched as another firework hurtled through the darkness. "This was when we held a surprise birthday party for Nat. Just the family. It was…well, it was the last time I ever saw her. After Schkeuditz she had to go on the run, then there was the Snap, and then…"

"I am aware of her sacrifice, yes."

"If I'd…if I'd just known, I could've made sure that night was extra perfect. I would've made sure," I said sadly. Another bang rattled the window panes. "She deserved it."

"She was a—" Pinky looked down at her pad. "—good friend, yes?"

I smiled. "She was my best friend. I invited her into my house, made her my children's honorary aunt…I mean, hell, we even named our youngest after her! Or we tried to, 'till it turned out he was a boy."

"It sounds like she was important to you."

"She was awesome! I mean she was S.H.I.E.L.D., and Strike Team Delta, and an Avenger! When Clint brought her back home it was like we were the Three Amigos; y'know, a team! But…"

"But?"

"The truth was she was Clint's best friend," I said. "I was just some tagalong who latched on to her because she was everything I thought I wanted to be, and I thought if I spent time with her, maybe I could be more like her. I mean, that's pretty pathetic, right?"

"I disagree," said Pinky. "My understanding is that Natasha Romanov was a reclusive individual with few confidants. If she did not enjoy your company, she would not have travelled to your remote residence with the specific intention of spending time with you. She would not have so willingly integrated into your family, and when she became your children's honorary Aunt, she also became your honorary sister, did she not?"

"I—" I hesitated for a second. "You know…you're right. I never thought of it like that."

"While I cannot speak to her motivations, for someone like her to make a commitment like that is unusual. Your friendship may have been of much greater value than you realise."

"That's a strange way of putting it, but…thanks for trying, Pinky," I said, and stepped up to the window. "If you don't mind, I'd like to watch this for a while."

"As you wish," she said, and joined me at the window. Another salvo of fireworks screamed skyward, trailing a prism of colour.

"Clint let off some real bangers towards the end. Would you believe we actually got complaints?"

The ghostly woman remained silent, and stared out impassively across the fields. Another firework went off, filling the sky with red and gold specks of light, and I smiled at the memory. Okay, so maybe one or two of the fireworks hadn't gone off, and maybe I'd burned the mulled wine while I'd helped Nate with his boots, but who cared? Sure, it hadn't been perfect, but Nat had been happier than I'd ever seen her. In the end, wasn't that what mattered?

As I mused, whispers danced at the edge of hearing.

"Hey, Steve; has he gone? Upstairs, I mean."

"Yes. I believe I just heard the door close."

"Okay, well…look, I just wanted to thank you. You know, for not breaking your promise. You could've told them, but—"

"I'm a man of my word, Viola. And to be honest, I'm not entirely unsympathetic to your current situation."

"Hah. It's all a bit mental, isn't it?"

"That's one way of putting it, yes. Tell me, how did it feel when you realised what had happened?"

"I'm not sure I've got the words. I suppose…well, it felt like someone was putting the boot in, on an absolutely cosmic scale. First the Snap, and then…"

"It must have been an awful lot to take in at once."

"That's putting it mildly. So, when did you realise what'd happened? And how?"

"It's fairly obvious, don't you think? If Clint had stopped to think during his little rant, he may have realised that my Order was not the only faction notable by their absence from world-changing events."

"You think he'll figure it out?"

"I think you need to tell them, and soon. They have the right to know."

"Yeah, but how? Where do you even start with something like that?"

"I'm sure that you'll figure it out, in your own inimitable way…"

The final firework died away, leaving us in shadow. In the gloom, Pinky's notepad flared to life with a bright, blue hue, and vanished in a cloud of glowing motes.

"It would appear that we have finished," she said. "It is time for you to wake up, Laura."

"Really? That was fast."

"Did you have an anticipated timeframe?"

"I don't know," I said, and smiled crookedly. "I guess I was kind of expecting another trip down memory lane. Maybe a significant Christmas, or the day I got married…you know, like in the movies!"

"To what end? Emotional catharsis?" Pinky said. I shrugged emphatically in response. "That was not our goal."

"I know. But what about my memories? I still don't have any idea how I ended up here!"

"No? Without thinking, tell me what you had for breakfast."

"Toast," I said promptly. "But I always have toast—"

"And what did you do after breakfast?"

"We went to the warehouse."

"And after visiting the warehouse, where did you go next?"

"The Blip Memorial, St. Louis."

"And how did you sustain your injuries?"
"I…I was attacked by Pexley," I said, hesitantly. Somewhere in the depths of my mind, I could see an inky black shadow, fist raised like a hammer… "But who the hell is Pexley? I don't—"

"You will. Everyone does, eventually," Pinky said calmly. "You may be fuzzy on the details for a couple of days, but it will all come back to you with time."

"I hope so," I said. "So, how do I wake up? Do you wave your hands, or…"

"Lie down on the sofa and close your eyes. I will do the rest."

I gave her a dubious look, but did as she said. The couch yielded at my touch, soft and warm, but as I lay back an incredible sense of weariness swept over me. My muscles felt leaden and stiff, and little twinges and aches skittered across my body as I sank deeper into the cushions.

"What the hell?" I groaned. "Why do I suddenly feel like I've run a goddamn marathon?"

"I have asked Inky to reinstate the connections between your mind and body. Please, try to relax."

I smiled glassily. "You know, I think Thera said the same thing."

"What a curious coincidence," she said, and I felt a static tingle as she laid a hand across my eyes. "I will see you very soon, Laura. Prepare to release in five…four…three…two…one—"

"Wait!" I struggled to rise, but she pushed me back down with seemingly little effort. "Is this going to—"

"Release."