Laura took a sip of water. A couple of droplets clung to her lips and she wiped them away. Clint watched as she took in a breath to start reading the next entry when Salt-N-Pepa's Push It started to play. His phone vibrated in his pocket, causing everyone to groan, as Laura closed the journal with a sigh.

"Sorry," he said, catching sight of Pepper's name on the call display. Clint eased himself from the sofa and headed onto the porch out front for a little privacy. He and Pepper didn't have much of a relationship. Spending most of his downtime with his family, he didn't hang around at the tower much between missions. When he did it was to catch up on sleep. Both things caused a severe lack of exposure to each other's company. When they did talk at parties or other Avenger and Co gatherings it was because she was in Tony's life and he was in Nat's. Their interest in each other was down to the mutual knowing of someone the other liked. And that was the extent their lives were inclined to let them socialise with each other.

With the two things that had once linked them together gone, Clint had expected to fall from casual acquaintance, to Christmas card list only, to someone who used to know the CEO of one of the most influential companies in the world. But, it seemed, the opposite was happening.

They spoke after the battle, she was still in the suit Tony made for her. Dirt marred parts of it, blood other bits. Her eyes were red and wild and lost. He was chafing at the knowledge his family was back and that he wasn't with them.

"Hey," he'd said at the time, "I'm sorry about Tony."

It felt inadequate. Sounded it, too. She'd just lost her husband and those five words were all he could muster up. But he was numbed by Natasha. Still in a trance of surrealism. One moment they were making jokes climbing up one side of a mountain, the next she was falling down the other side. One moment he was on the phone to Laura, the next he was fighting for the very universe Nat gave her life for.

And the numbness was how he travelled from each of these moments to the next.

"Yeah, me too," Pepper said.

Clint sat next to her as people yelled in the distance, taking note of the survivors. Some people laughed in relief. Relief of life thrust upon them once again, relief of survival against the odds. Others cried and their tears stood for many things.

"I'm sorry about Nat," she said, shifting her head up but not quite looking at him.

"Yeah, me too," he said.

When they next spoke it was at the funeral. The sun shone the way Nat had described it in her journal. The lake and the lawn; bathed in light.

Almost cleansing, almost healing.

Clint and Wanda stood on the shore of the lake, just beyond the shade of a tree; long since lapsed into silence. He remembered the warmth of the day on his face and the smell of the wildflowers around them. Vision was at the front of her mind while Nat was at the front of his. She'd spent many a sunny day playing with the kids around the farm.

Pepper joined them, with Tony occupying her thoughts. With a start, Wanda offered her a hug and slid away.

"I always knew I'd lose him like this," Pepper said, her words spilled out over the lake, once again not quite looking at him, "that's why I walked away. I just wish I'd spent that time with him."

When he got home that evening, Clint hugged his children a little tighter and held Laura a little closer.

Back in the present the wooden porch creaked underfoot, he swiped a thumb across the screen and answered.

"Hey, how's it going?" He said as soon as the call clicked through.

"A day at a time," she said.

"Same here." He wasn't sure what to say, there was no reason he could think of that she would call him. Clint was proud of the fact that he could talk to anyone. Introduce him to an over-worked accountant in New Zealand or a puffed up talentless hack in Wales and he'd work a conversation out of them within minutes. He had the gift of the gab and he knew how to use it.

And that's why standing in silence, watching his daughter chase that infernal cat, and waiting for Pepper to say something felt unnatural to him. Maybe it was because he'd come to appreciate there was a closeness between her and Nat he hadn't seen before, and maybe it was because that opened up the possibility of Nat venting about him to her. Or maybe it was all in his head and the one who felt awkward was the person on the other end of the line.

Either way, he never before understood how much an art form making conversation actually was.

"We found a bunch of Nat's stuff," he said, thinking it was a risky way to get the conversation off the ground but better than standing around and listening to the silence they both insisted on.

"I heard," she said and then realised an explanation was needed, "I went to visit the compound to see how the cleanup was going. The sooner the wreckage is cleared away the sooner we can rebuild."

"Rebuild?"

"Yeah. The Avengers need to live beyond Tony and Nat's memory. Their lives kept this planet safe, now it's time for their legacy to take over. And it's going to need a headquarters."

"Good thinking," Clint said, again finding himself bereft of words. While he was reaching into the past and grasping for any wisps of his friend that he could, Pepper was looking to the future.

"Were her journals there?" Pepper asked.

"Huh?"

"Nat's journals."

"How did you know?"

There was a huff of laughter across the line and Clint realised he sounded jealous. Maybe he was, everyone else seemed to know so much more about his best friend than he did.

"Don't worry, it's not like she told me. I'm more observant than you spies give me credit for. I found her hunched over a book with traces of ink on her hands often enough. Everyone has to have someone to talk to, even those who bottle everything up. You weren't there, it made sense."

The casual reminder of his absence felt like a rusted piece of barbed wire to his heart. He shook it aside.

"Hill and Fury brought it all over, along with a desire to find out everything they have to say." He paused a second as he realised what he'd said. Admitting to riffling through the thoughts of a dead woman sounded so crass, even more so when it was to someone who wasn't there.

"I think she'd be glad to know you're reading them. I don't think she was writing just for herself. The thing with Nat is there were a lot of things she wanted to say, but something kept her from saying them. Maybe this way, she'll get most of it off her chest." There was such certainty in her voice, complete belief that he wasn't doing anything wrong that he found himself flooded with gratitude. Not that his actions were condoned, but that Natasha had someone like this in her corner.

"Actually, we've just finished reading about your wedding. Sounds like it was beautiful."

"One of the most beautiful days of my whole life," she said, breath hitching and Clint cursed himself for mentioning it. A reminder that the one person she chose to spend the rest of her life with had a much shorter lifespan that either had expected. "I keep thinking about that day, you know. About how happy I was, and him. It was the happiest I'd ever seen him. Until a few months later when Morgan was born. I'm surprised she wrote about it."

"You made an impact on her life," he paused again as a thought struck him. "Let me know if you want to read them. She wrote about Tony a lot. And you."

"Thanks, Clint." Her voice was deep as if the ocean of emotion they both hovered over was about to sweep her away. "I'll let you know when I'm ready."

Lila was walking back towards the house, the cat scooped up in her arms. He searched both of them for feathers, knowing mayhem was around the corner if Liho ever managed to get into the chicken coop.

"How's Morgan holding up?"

"She's finding it hard to understand why all these people can come back from the dead but her dad can't. She still expects him to come and tuck her in at night. There's nothing I can say."

Sometimes being a parent was the most difficult thing in the world. And it was made worse by the lessons you couldn't teach your children. The ones only life could give. This was one of those, and Clint had enough common sense to know it wasn't something Pepper wanted to hear. So he let her vent, instead.

"Sometimes I think I get where you were coming from," she said, "a lot of days it feels like Morgan is the only strand of sanity I have left. I can't imagine what it would be like if I lost her as well."

"You should come round, when you feel up to it," Clint said, moved from his silence, keen to stop anyone making the mistakes he had, "the kids would love to get to know Morgan. We're here for you, Pepper. The Barton clan, the rest of the Avengers. We're your family, too. Whether you like it or not."

"I don't know. I don't want to impose." She'd used Clint's flurry of words to compose herself and he knew he was being treated to her CEO mask, the one that doesn't let anything slip through.

"Not imposing if you're invited," Clint sighed, he'd felt words dislodge themselves from the chaotic cloud running through his head and knew they were what he needed to say. "I just want you to know that we're here. And I want to make sure you're listening. I turned my back on the one person I had left and by the time I came round I only had a few days with her before forever took her away. I'll always regret that."

"Because she might still be here if you hadn't?"

"No. She would still have done what she did on that awful planet. But I would have had an extra five years' worth of memories with her. And maybe, just maybe, those would have been enough to make the loss back then, and the loss now, a little less painful."

"I guess she was as unstoppable as Tony."

"Pfft, don't be polite. They were the two most stubborn people I've ever met."

On the other end of the line there was a tentative laugh. One that wasn't sure if it should exist but it made its way into the world anyway. It was with that laugh and a few words of parting that they hung up on each other. He stood still for a few moments more, soaked in the cloudy day and filled his lungs with the fresh air until they ached. He tapped the phone against his hand a couple of times and noted, with a small amount of shock, that at some point over the last few days, all dread and fear of what Natasha's words might bring had seeped away.

He stepped back inside, head a little bit clearer, to find the living room empty of everyone except Laura. It seemed they'd all taken the opportunity to do something else. Laura remained oblivious to his return. She sat on the arm of the sofa and touched her fingers gently to the cover of the journal still in her hands. She swept her hands over the front and back, before caressing the spine and hugging it to her chest. And he knew that she imagined it in Nat's hands, every time she opened it to share her thoughts with the paper beneath her pen, every time she contemplated writing something, the very last time she handled it. By the end of this private, almost ritualistic moment, tears glistened on her cheeks.

"I wish I was hugging her," Laura said, apparently not as oblivious to Clint's presence as he thought.

"I know," he said as he walked up and encircled her in his arms. He pulled her close to his chest as she had with the book. She said something but it was muffled, so he pulled back and looked down at her.

"Things are making more sense, you know. The way she felt when Pepper made her feel her stomach, I could see it in my head, the exact expression on her face. I'd seen it so many times. When I asked her to hold one of the kids, or if she could babysit. When we told her we wanted to name our next child after her. When I made her feel my stomach when I was pregnant. I always wondered what it meant and now I know. She was realising her value," she choked on her words and had to take a moment before she could speak again. "I hate to think how empty the start of her life was if things like that were still a surprise after all the years we'd known each other."

"Sometimes," Clint said, wiping the tears away from Laura's cheeks, "I wonder if I knew her as well as I thought I did."

"I prefer to think of it as we've never known her better."

1 October 2018

Hi Tom,

For someone who didn't say much or share any of what he was feeling, Thor's sudden departure left a gaping hole in the compound. Left behind in his wake was a renewed sense of failure.

Our failure to help him.

I doubt it was his intention to stir up these feelings, and there's a silent agreement between us to never mention it to him; knowing how fragile he was, but no one knew what spurred the move.

Bruce thought it was triggered by the news of his breakthrough. He'd revealed it to Steve and Thor in the car on the way up to the wedding. Either he took inspiration from the way his friend had found a way to move forward, or he was frightened of the idea of being left behind. Steve wasn't sure what to think. He and Thor hadn't exchanged many words, the only strength they lent one another was their company. In hindsight, Steve was scared the lack of talking might have suggested the god wasn't quite welcome.

Neither reason felt like the answer, but what else can we think? As much as we hope it's a good sign, there is an unspoken truth that lingers between us, waiting for the moment one of us will acknowledge it. Thor would not have crept away while we were distracted if the thing that drove him was good.

Only shame would cause such a proud man to sneak away under the cover of night with no one else around.

While Tony and Pepper enjoyed their honeymoon, the three of us tried to get in touch with Thor. Steve and I didn't even make it past Valkyrie. The only reason Bruce did was because he and the warrior had a history. Even if most of it was a blurred and tangled mess in his mind.

Bruce learned three things from the call. Firstly, Thor had a house, it overlooked the sea, which sometimes 'roared like a starved behemoth about to devour mighty battalions of bloodthirsty berserkers'. Secondly, he would 'lead the remaining Asgardians into their new era. They have conquered the sword and the axe and the hammer, now it was time for them to conquer fishing nets and fishing boats and become the mightiest fishermen and women Midgard has had the honour of hosting'. And finally, his 'good friends Korg and Miek were with him. One's made of rock and the other is something...well, it's something. They were good friends. Great friends. The best advisors a king could ask for'.

And with those forced words of reassurance communicated to us via Bruce, we lived as we had before. As if one of us hadn't just moved out and the certainty of another departure didn't loom over our heads.

Whenever the three of us were together the unavoidable fact hung around, as tangible as a fourth person in the compound. It dogged every word and shadowed every casual glance. We avoided the topic at all costs and that was the nourishment it needed to grow bigger and bigger until it felt like it was the only thing left unsaid between us.

Despite the active non-acknowledgement, it was clear staying in the compound post-transformation was a temporary solution for Bruce. He could walk the halls and fit through the doors, the stairs were easy for him to climb and the lift would hold his weight, but no one had thought to equip the compound with heavy duty chairs or beds. Everything was too small for a Hulk of any size to live here on a permanent basis.

He would need a home more suitable to him. Something comfortable to live his day-to-day life in without worry of breaking anything. A place where he could support his new way of life and treat problems that cropped up, should any arise.

Tony's already agreed to help him find and modify a place to his needs. I overheard the call. I'm not sure how Steve knows, but he does. There's something in his eyes that I don't know how to read.

Though, to be honest I haven't tried all that hard to read it. I'm not sure I want to know what it says. There weren't that many people left after the Snap. And now there are fewer still.

It just feels like everyone's disappearing.

3 October 2018

Hi Tom,

Pepper's sent over photos from the wedding, and not just the forced ones the photographer had us pose for. Not that those ones aren't nice, especially when it's just those two together.

Working under the assumption that Steve's presence at the wedding meant things were patched up, the photographer even managed to organise a few shots of the remaining Avengers together. It was a far cry from the first picture taken in New York, surrounded by the very broken looking living area of Stark Tower.

If you looked close enough you could see the strain of the intervening years tugging at Tony's eyes and pulling at Steve's lips. Where once they might have stood side by side, they were as far away from each other as possible. If you knew him, you'd know that the laughter Steve shared at Tony's jokes was cautious. Uncertain if he was allowed.

Then there were the changes not to do with their rocky relationship. Clint was absent from my side, but Rhodey was there. Bruce beamed from ear-to-ear, happy for Tony but also happy he'd found a way forward at long last. Thor stood beside him, hair short, scar running across his face and through his eye. He was the sort to clap his arms around the shoulders of those who stood beside him, but he kept to himself. Touching no one as the camera recorded these mixed moments.

Photos from the reception were more candid. Tony and Pepper during their first dance, Wong at the buffet table, Thor and Valkyrie talking on the front porch, Tony making his speech, Pepper hiding behind her hands, me and Steve laughing, people I didn't know waving at the camera, Happy with the bride and groom either side of him, Rhodey making his speech. Rhodey trying to convince Tony jumping into the lake was a bad idea, me and Bruce dancing, Pepper and I throwing our shoes away into the trees.

Random snapshots that came together to document one of the best twenty-four hour periods any of us had experienced.

4 October 2018

Morning Tom,

Picture this.

It's pitch black outside. Seasonal clouds obscure the night sky. Stars are hidden, the moon tries to shine through the thick cover but only achieve a faint glow; lending an eeriness to the atmosphere.

Humidity is in the air, one that belongs more to August than it does October. It has the double task of inducing drowsiness while also making it impossible to do anything comfortably.

You come out of your little doze, not even aware you'd fallen into one, smelling the dust attracted to the electronics surrounding you. Feeling the hard edges of the keyboard you'd rested your head on, knowing there were little square patches across your cheek where the keys had imprinted themselves.

Hearing the panic stricken calls for help from someone you didn't know knew how to be panicked.

That was how things started a couple of hours ago.

The room was awash in the cool blue light that meant a hologram was present. It was Nebula. Her words took a moment to register, though it felt like minutes.

"Romanoff, are you there? Agent Romanoff. We are being pursued."

"I'm here, Nebula," I said as I jumped up from my chair and came round the front of my desk. "What's the situation?"

I heard Rocket in the background, cursing as he navigated their ship through, what sounded like, a series of small explosions. A few sparks even made their way into the hologram field for effect.

"Rocket and I are in trouble. Remnants of Thanos' followers have attacked. We are fighting back but they have caused serious damage." There was a bigger explosion, the ship jolted and shook. I heard the metallic shudder as the force of the blast caused holo-Nebula to stumble and grab onto something out of sight to keep her balance, then she yelled over her shoulder. "Keep the ship level, rodent," before turning back to me, "we are outgunned, I'm not sure how long we will last."

"Next time keep it short and just say we're getting our flarkin asses handed to us," Rocket yelled from nowhere. "Take that you motherf-"

"Send me your coordinates," I said. There wasn't much I could do but I knew the value of a calm head in the middle of a hurricane. I was already cuing up a call with Carol. "Where's the best place for you guys to land for repairs?"

"Earth, your planet is not the closest but we know it's not hostile."

"Danvers here," Carol said, speaking over the last of Nebula's sentence. She flickered into view and took a moment to take in Nebula's shaking holo-form as the ship was accosted again. "Whoah, what's going on?"

Another huge bang and Nebula disappeared to go and help her shipmate. Blue light, broken words and a constant barrage of noise that didn't sound good anywhere (let alone in the middle of space) told me we were still connected.

"They need your help," I said and tapped my tablet, "I've sent you their coordinates. Are you nearby?"

"Not really but I have friends who can be there in ten. It'll take me a couple of hours to meet up."

"Okay, send your friends. But it's Thanos related. I want you there too. Once the situation is resolved come back to Earth with them. Keep me updated."

"Copy that." She signed off without much further ado and I was left with a hollow blueness and noises that belonged light years away.

"Danvers is on her way. She's sending you reinforcements that are closer to your position." I let the words float through the connection and hoped they found the ears I intended.

"Gotcha," Rocket said. It was hard to tell if he was replying or claiming victory. The two of them spoke in a short hand. Short phrases, incomplete sentences, a team partnership working together at its peak, with some cursing thrown in.

Steve slipped into the room and stood beside me. He stared at the empty air where the sound of battle seeped through.

"They say curiosity killed the Cap, you know," I said.

"Yeah, if curiosity was the name of the sea I crashed into. Even then it did a pretty shoddy job on the killing me part." Something flashed in his eyes and I wanted to ask if this reminded him of his final flight with Red Skull. A sudden shudder of the hologram brought me back to focus.

"Rocket. Nebula. Report."

No one answered for a couple of seconds. They dragged long enough for me to consider the possibility of having lost two more good people.

"We are okay," Nebula stepped into view. One of her arms sparked and we did our best not to stare. "It looks like Danvers' friends are here. Someone is helping to fend off our attackers."

Ten wordless minutes later and the situation was under control. There was far less shuddering and shaking. No mini-explosions and the creative expletives had trailed away. It was calm enough for Rocket and Nebula to have an argument, the words were muffled but nothing can ever quite cover up the tone of disagreement

"So," I said to Steve to drown out the argument, "going for a really early morning stroll or just couldn't sleep?

"Romanoff, Rogers," Nebula said as she stepped back into the light, cutting Steve off, "our attackers have been eliminated. Thanks to help from Danvers' allies."

"That's good news. Keep them with you in case any more track you down. Danvers is on her way. Make sure she can find you."

I sent an update to Carol as the blue light faded away, leaving Steve and I in an oppressive darkness. I never realised the sidelines could be such a forlorn place. I rested my head against Steve's shoulder. Well, really, his upper arm. Even leaning against my desk as we were, I couldn't quite reach.

"That was intense," he said.

"You can say that again."

"Sitting here, not able to do anything but hope for the best. Sort of gives me a new understanding of Fury."

"That's as far as you'll get. He prefers people stay out of his shoes."

Although, it has to be said, I wish I gained a new understanding of him in that moment as well. He was often stuck at headquarters and had to trust others to get the job done. He got his hands dirty but only to direct his many pawns with as great an accuracy as he could.

Did he worry like me?

Did he second guess every decision?

Did he ever feel out of his depth?