At some point during Laura's reading of the journal, the weather turned. Rain pounded against the house and pinged against the windows. The droplets were hard and harsh and it was difficult to hear well over the roaring wind. Laura closed the book with the begrudging agreement of everyone gathered around her. With nothing else to do she started dinner.

Clint noticed the odd look in her eyes and he thought it had to do with the same look clouding Cooper's and Lila's. Knowing Nat was in the house when they weren't. Knowing she cleaned and mourned and retreated when it was too much. It hadn't shocked Clint so much, he knew she had a habit of coming back on important days. He'd bumped into her a couple of times.

He got up from his seat and wondered through the house. His feet took him to Nat's door and, bracing himself as much as she had when she first returned home, he opened it and stepped over the threshold. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, if he was even looking for anything at all. In the end, he sat at the foot of her bed and looked at his hands.

Sometimes it flashed through his mind that they were the last thing she ever held.

He sighed and pushed that thought out of his head. But the space it occupied didn't stay empty for long. It was filled with her entry about the crime scene she went to visit. He had watched from the building opposite as the police secured the scene and placed the appropriate calls. He never realised the Avengers was one of them.

Nat, Steve and Rhodey hadn't been there when he turned his back on his handiwork and walked away; already thinking about where he was going to strike next.

The door opened a little wider and in came Nate, followed by an apprehensive Steve. The kid didn't even seem to notice his dad sitting on the bed as he made his way over to the closet.

"Open," Nate demanded, "please."

Steve smiled and did as he was asked. There were some clothes hanging up, casual stuff Nat liked to keep behind for whenever she stayed, and a vest that looked like it belonged with her combat suit. But Nate wasn't interested in any of that. Instead he climbed into the space and searched for something else, making huffing noises when he got caught up in the fabric above him.

"Here," he said as metal scraped against wood, ushering it along with his hand as he crouched over it. Steve picked it up and something moved inside. Or, more accurately, several somethings.

"Do you want me to open it?" Steve asked.

"Yeah," Nate said as he slid out of the closet on his bum and toddled over to Clint, who'd so far observed the whole thing without comment. Steve held the box gently, almost reverently, and pried the lid off the top. He held the tin out to Nate, and Clint saw the collection of postcards within. He smiled and looked down at his son, who was smiling too but looked a little lost.

"S'up, buddy?"

"Dunno," the boy shrugged and held his hands out for the tin, which Steve handed to him. Nate rested it on his father's knee as he looked through the contents. The two grown men exchanged a look. "Why did auntie Nat keep these?"

"Because she loved you."

"If she loved me she'd be here," Nate said and pouted, he sounded dangerously close to crying.

"She isn't here because she loved you," Clint said, keeping his voice soft and trying to pretend that Steve wasn't there. Nate just looked up to him and it was clear as anything in his eyes that he didn't understand.

Clint picked the tin box up from his knee and placed it on the bed, instead lifting Nate up and pulling him into a tight hug. "You'll understand one day, buddy."

Nate amused his father for no more than five seconds then squirmed in his grasp. As soon as he had the tin in his hand he ran out the door without a single look back. Clint sighed.

"Kids are resilient," Steve said.

"Sometimes I think a little too resilient. I want him to remember her on his own, not through the stories we'll tell," he paused and inspected his fingernails before standing, "but that's not going to happen, is it."

Steve shook his head and looked at the spot where the postcards had been. He looked haggard, as if it didn't matter that they won, the weight of the world would always rest on his shoulders.

"I saw you in here the other night," Clint said, "I heard someone in here. Thought I'd check, we don't come in here."

"Sorry," the soldier said, flicking his eyes to the floor at the thought of offending those offering him hospitality.

"No need to be sorry, just wondering if there's anything I can do to help."

"Not really," Steve shook his head, "can't sleep, keep having nightmares. She was always the one to help me with them and, well - I thought coming in here might help instead."

"Did it?"

"No. I always hated that people are boiled down to the possessions they leave behind when they die. She has almost nothing personal."

"And yet, if you'd asked her ten years ago, more than she ever thought she would have."

"Clint, dinner's almost ready, can you find Lila please," Laura called from the kitchen. Clint wasn't sure why but he felt there was more of this conversation to be had.

"Will do in a sec," he answered and turned to Steve before he left. "Thanks, by the way, Cap. For making her celebrate her birthday and helping her through the New Year."

"I didn't do much."

"Nah, you did more than you think you did."

The two men filed out of the room, the door clicked behind Steve who went to the kitchen to see if there was anything he could do to help.

The stairs were silent as Clint stepped up them, absentmindedly dodging the creaky one while he pondered Steve's grief and then, from nowhere, the name Natasha had written.

Yelena.

A single name with enough power to encourage her to share with Pepper.

He reached Lila's room. It was neat, she enjoyed pastel colours rather than anything bold and Clint always felt out of place when he walked into it. Maybe it was because of his general scruffiness or the fact that he knew he wasn't a welcome guest in his daughter's room. Why he even came to check he wasn't sure. If she was there she would have heard Laura calling out to him and stampeded down the stairs so they didn't have to be in a room alone together.

He took a moment to really look at the room around him. He'd sort of assumed nothing had changed and never really had a chance to see if he was right or not. Right then, he was appreciating how much she'd grown since she came back. Or maybe it had happened before the Snap. The teddies were gone, packed into the bottom of her wardrobe. A poster of a band used to take pride of place on her wall but that had come down, too. Instead there was a heavily pinned travel map.

Odd. She definitely hadn't been to that many places.

Clint stepped closer to see if he could unravel the mystery, and found a lump in his throat as the answer became all too clear. They weren't the places Lila had been, they were the places Nat had visited. His eyes watered and he made a hasty retreat from the room.

That's what he got for snooping, he supposed.

The landing was as good a place as any to stand and think about his next move. He's hunted down gang leaders that didn't want to be found, he could find his daughter in her own home.

During the better weather Liho had wandered from Lila's lap and out of sight. Probably to cause some sort of mischief, Clint reasoned to himself. He listened to the pitter patter, almost melodic, on the roof overhead. It was not cat-friendly weather. Maybe the stupid thing had stranded itself in the barn. If the cat wasn't in the house Lila would definitely go searching.

At the bottom of the stairs he grabbed his coat, and Lila's just in case.

"Found her?" Laura asked as he passed her and Fury in the kitchen on the way to the back door. He paused for a second and heard Wanda and Steve, the other end of the room, talking about the snowmen she missed out on.

"If I had would I be about to brave the downpour outside?"

"Probably not, but I bet you're checking the barn before you've even looked through the rest of the house." She didn't bother to look up from where she was chopping carrots.

"It's called following a hunch, hun. It's how I made a living," he said and poked his tongue out at her before fleeing through the door.

"It's a miracle Romanoff always managed to bring you home alive," Fury shouted at him through it. At least, that's what he thought he said, there was a lot of rainfall to contend with. He held Lila's waterproof above his head and slipped, slid and squelched his way across the yard. The visibility outside was horrendous but he saw the door caught up in the eddies of the wind that swooped past.

"Lila," he called as he stepped into the building, he saw the little light on at his workbench, throwing his daughter into silhouette. It was a testament to the power of the weather that he hadn't noticed it outside, "mum wants you, dinner's ready."

She didn't move as he called, though he knew she'd heard him. He stepped carefully through the darkness until he was beside her. "Hey Hawkeye, did you hear me?" He noticed the music box was in her hands and he was half convinced she was going to throw it at him, he braced himself for an impact that never came. Guess not all his hunches came about.

"Hawkeye?"

"Why d'you call me that? It's your name." Clint almost checked himself for Pym particles and Tony's miracle suit. She was talking to him and it wasn't spiteful or scathing. She sounded like she did before she disappeared. Like a kid who loved her dad and hoped he could answer her questions.

"Just something I do. Why? Want me to stop that, too?"

Lila shook her head, as if she hadn't really heard him. "What did you want?"

"Dinner. Ready. Mum. Wants. You."

Her fingers traced the box and he wished he knew what she was thinking. Would it be going too far to ask Wanda to do a little recon for him? He remembered Loki and what that was like, then he remembered the team after their little run in with Wanda in South Africa. Nope, recon was off the table. He'd just have to figure it out the old fashioned way.

But, Lila spoke again before he could get started.

"Weird isn't it. That she was here when we weren't?"

"Mum?"

"No, auntie Nat," she said and there was a hint of a smile at Clint's feigned stupidity. "On your birthday. Where were you, dad?"

Even though he knew the time had come to tell the kids about his actions, his heart decided to pick up the pace. "Somewhere else."

They stayed silent for a moment or two, neither knowing where to tread next. Clint knew his path depended on where Lila decided to go. He just wanted to hug her; he could feel the hurt radiating off of her. He wanted to tell her it would be alright but it was a promise he couldn't make.

"Are you ever going to tell me?"

"Yes"

"Really? When?"

"Soon."

"I won't hold my breath."

"I promise, kiddo."

She looked at him, trying to see if he was lying or not. In the end she liked what she saw and gave him a small smile. A rarity these days.

"What was it like? Hearing her say those things to you?"

It's okay, Clint. Really. It's okay.

It's okay.

"Heartbreaking. I wish I made other choices. I wish I was by her side and helping her figure this thing out."

In the recent past Lila had used moments like that to sink the knife in deeper, even twist it a little. But, as the weather whipped up outside, it seemed her anger was abating. At least enough for her to see that she didn't need to punish someone who was punishing himself.

"Thanks dad," she said, breaking the silence.

"Hmmm?"

"The music box, thanks for fixing it."

"No problem, kiddo."

"You know, I think that's worse."

"Beggars can't be choosers. Kiddo." They left the barn together. Clint sheltered Liho in his coat and Lila wrapped herself up in hers as best she could, clutching the music box to her chest. When they got to the back door Clint placed his hand on the handle and paused, looking at a very bedraggled version of his daughter. "Get an early night tonight, yeah? Family has an early start tomorrow."

"More of your enforced family time?" She asked and a little bit of her bite came back. Damn, he was doing so well.

"Sort of. Yeah. But something for all of us, I think."