4 November 2019

Hi Tom,

A place is never so depressing as when someone leaves it.

And Bruce's presence was always big, with or without the Hulk. He weaved his essence into the compound, became a fixed feature along with the walls of glass, heavy security, and FRIDAY. The gentleness that followed him everywhere became a natural balm to the stress that dogged everyone else. He was a someone who offered support and advice without even realising.

His absence feels like a temporary change. Only a few days had passed since Halloween and not everything felt like reality yet. At least he was gone for good reasons. There were plenty of people whose disappearance came with tragic stories. He wasn't one of them and I was glad for that.

Bruce had followed his new path right to the end, and now he was at the destination he was exploring everything it had to offer.

Thor agreed to stay a couple of days longer. Bruce has a way of getting through to him that most others don't. Though the god spent his time in a village filled with his people and kept the company of two of his friends, he was still isolated. The days he left his home were rare, and even then it was for as long as it took to stock up on beer and snacks.

All I knew was that Bruce was curious about the limits of his strength. It was far beyond what he had in his human form and, though his memories of the Big Guy were more than a little fuzzy, he knew it wasn't as much as the Hulk had at his fingertips.

With all the self-preservation and natural survival instincts we've come to expect from him, Steve volunteered to help our now permanently hulked out and bulked up friend with those tests. The idiot might be one of the strongest mortals around but he was far from invulnerable, and there was every chance of severe, though unintended, harm coming to him.

I think Bruce was grateful when Thor volunteered to be the punching bag instead. And, that's when we decided to go. The prospect of getting caught in the aftershocks of their conflict appealed to no one. Tony had disappeared home the day after the transformation. As much as he was happy for Bruce and wanted to celebrate the achievement, he didn't want to be away from his family for too long either. It was time for Steve, Rhodey and I to disappear too.

We needed to get back to business as usual, while the scientist really needed time to himself. The adjustment he was going through was big and there had to be a period where he could gauge how he felt without the pressure of all of us around him. He shared the lead up, the moment itself, and the aftermath with us. But there were some things he couldn't. Some things he shouldn't. This was very much a personal thing.

His body, it was new, it worked differently and there was more of it to control. Little things were so much harder while bigger things much more possible. The same with his mind; it doesn't matter how much he prepared himself before the transformation, planning for it and living it were different things.

And he wasn't just Bruce.

Though the Hulk demonstrated toddler like tendencies he brought much to the package. Top of that list was his confidence, or at least the ability to project a confidence when he felt like the most insecure thing in the world. While that was a positive change it was all part of the evolving mindset Bruce needed to come to terms with. When he's spent his life hanging back, confidence was as alien to him as the muscles and green skin.

On top of that were the avenues he used to walk without thinking that are no longer open to him. Once again he would have to learn to limit his life. He was used to that way of thinking, sure, but this wasn't about reducing exposure to dangerous situations or eliminating anything that made him angry and got his adrenaline pumping.

This was about everyday living.

How was he going to open doors without yanking them off their hinges?

Where was he going to find clothes to fit him?

How was he going to travel? Unless there's a tank going spare there aren't many road worthy vehicles he can use.

They were all questions he needed to think about before he answered because, as mundane as they seemed, the quality of his life from now on depended on it. And they were just the tip of the iceberg.

So, while he decided strength was a good place to start, which I wasn't going to argue with because it'll lead to an answer to that door question, we knew it was best to leave him to figure out all that followed.

That didn't stop me from missing him, though. I'm not supposed to admit that, am I? The infamous Black Widow isn't supposed to miss people. But, who are you going to tell?

I missed everyone who were once here but were now gone. I've often found myself wandering into the almost empty lab he used to occupy. There was still equipment there but it was the non-essential stuff. In the just-in-case-inspiration-strikes-while-he's-visiting lab.

Three times.

Three times since Halloween I've sought out that room to soak up what's left of his presence. He might have been a timid guy but he was still a force to be reckoned with. It was his habit to shrink away from the spotlight, only to make himself known in other ways. This room was his, it always would be, but it wasn't the same anymore. How could it be?

At least, for a little while longer, it was similar. The piles of papers and books that always threatened to topple were gone, but I still picked out the same paths I'd chosen so I wouldn't disturb them. Bruce had relocated but I still heard him; muffled if he faced the scribble-heavy whiteboard, animated if he waltzed around the room as he tried to keep up with his thoughts. Sometimes, if I breathed deep enough, I caught a whiff of his aftershave. So long did he spend there, his scent was fused to the foundations.

His presence was constant and reassuring, even when I wanted nothing to do with people it was a comfort to know that he was there.

That they all were there.

The gap he left behind in the compound was exacerbated by Rhodey going back to D.C., as much as he preferred to stay away from the capital he couldn't put his return off forever. At least he was more rested now.

Me and Steve.

The only two left. Two people used to very different types of loneliness. Mine was self-inflicted. Stay closed off and don't let people in, that was how I was raised and, for the most part, that was how I lived. It didn't make me happy but that's not what the life of a Black Widow was about. It was about survival. Any means necessary.

I guess Steve's was also self-inflicted, if you think about it. But he never intended the consequences that followed. His whole way of life, gone. Almost everyone he knew, gone. While he still existed. It was a cruel thing for someone so kind. But then again, maybe not. Plenty of people, Steve included, think of him as the man out of time. But I never subscribed to that notion. I prefer to think of him as the man born before his time.

We'd faced so much together. But never something like this.

We sort of found ourselves seeking each other's company more. I don't know if it was on purpose or just a lot of coincidence. What I did know was, as someone who liked my own routine I should have worried when he adopted mine.

Except I didn't.

In fact, it was nice to have the bubble of loneliness shift ever so slightly.

With Steve it wasn't just that I tried to push him away and he refused to play ball, it's that when I began to insist, I found that I didn't want to. I don't know how he does it but that Steve Rogers knows how to work his way into your life.

That autumn smell that sits on the air during October had disappeared in favour of the November chill. And he still joined me on the roof in the evenings when I'd had enough of the world reflected in my emails and reports.

Even though he's just as tired as I am.

Because the waiting around between missions and the doubt I know he feels in his heart, which I can see in his eyes, take their toll.

We stare at the night sky until it belongs to early morning and my whole body aches for a normal sleeping pattern. From his sluggish winces I guess Steve doesn't fare much better. And yet, heading down into the compound gets harder and harder to do.

So we stay.

And we talk about things.

Sometimes it's rubbish; the random thoughts churned from the dregs of our minds. And sometimes it's the things that can only be spoken with the veil of night between us. Things about the war he'd prefer to have left in the forties with the rest of his life. Or his mother, who he missed every single day since she passed. Some of the horrors I'd committed in my past. And the emptiness I carried with me from unsteady and unreliable memories of my childhood and adolescence.

That was how we filled the void left by Bruce.

With thoughts and secrets we'd never dare utter to anyone else.

Not even Bucky.

Not even Clint.

12 November 2019

Hi Tom,

Guess what's starting to creep out from its almost year-long hibernation?

Yes, the Christmas infestation has started.

This time Steve isn't bothering to hide the little tweaks and additions he's made to the decor. I'm biting my tongue. He finds some sort of joy in it and that's a hard thing to come by now.

This year's soundtrack wasn't a continuous loop of loud and cheerful Christmas songs, no, it was a commentary on what the holiday was like as he was growing up.

As poor as he and his mum were she always found something for him, most often half-used pencils and pieces of paper. He said that was always the best thing in the world because he could create whatever he wanted. And he always used them to draw something for her. She treated every single one like a masterpiece.

They probably were. I've seen some of his sketches.

By today's standards their Christmas meals were nothing special. But his mum would save and get whatever she could to celebrate. I can imagine scrawny Steve struggling through each day, half-finished drawings scattered on the floor as they tucked into whatever was on their plates.

And I know it would have been enough for him. He never would have asked for more - except maybe better health and he got that in the end.

He came to find me last night, I'd decided to pay a visit to the chilly dock. The crispness of the air brings a different type of beauty to our surroundings that reminds me of Russia. He looked a little uncertain.

"How can I help you?" I said and turned back to the water, closing my eyes to better enjoy the sound of the gentle lapping.

"Well, I err, I need to put the stockings up," he said and the haunting images of those stitched names floated to the surface of my mind, I'd forgotten they would make an appearance, "wondered if you wanted to do it with me."

"Sure," I said, surprising even myself with the speed of my answer. There was nothing I wanted to do less.

"Oh, good. Well, let me know when you're ready."

"Now?" Might as well get it over with, right?

He led the way back into the compound and I took one last lungful of the lake air. The blast of warmth was a shock as I went back inside. The colder parts of me started to burn. The Christmas stockings were on a side table; brighter than I remembered.

"Same place as last year?" He asked.

"Wherever you want, this is your party."

Instead of answering he took the one with Bucky's name and attached it to where it had hung, useless, the previous Christmas. I grabbed Wanda's and put her next to him, then it was Vision, then Sam. The four of them stared at us and we stared back. We shared a moment of clawing grief and guilt. Then I grabbed Tony's name and hooked it up. The rest of the Avengers followed.

The last two went up, Steve's then mine, and we looked at this result for a while. A list representative of us, and yet doing nothing to highlight the complicated histories and relationships between us all. It glossed over the difficulties and just left a bunch of names linked together for better or worse.

We were all there. And yet, as I looked at them it didn't quite seem right.

13 November 2019

Hi Tom,

I walked into the living area again early this morning and saw the stockings. I realised what was missing.

When Steve came in a couple of hours later he didn't say anything when he spotted Clint, Laura, Cooper, Lila and Nate's names added next to mine. Nor Nick and Maria's.

He just nodded and went about his day.

28 November 2019

Hi Tom,

This morning I woke up to FRIDAY alerting me to the Starks arriving at the front gate. They would be at the compound in less than a minute.

My two very fuzzy thoughts were annoyance and surprise. Annoyed that FRIDAY had woke me up and surprised that weak morning light filtered through my curtains.

What felt like five minutes later FRIDAY's voice rang out again in my quarters, this time to say Rhodey had just touched down in the landing bay outside. Sleep clawed at my mind, my throat and the edge of my vision. But I noticed the light was a little stronger than before.

By the time FRIDAY announced Bruce was here I'd dragged myself to the edge of my bed and stared at my bare feet on the carpeted floor.

Last night I hadn't made it to bed until three in the morning. A mixture of a late night conversation with Okoye, a need to make a dent in the mountain of paperwork I had building up, and an emergency with a top security organisation that required my little utilised hacking skills.

On its own it's not enough of a wild night to cause me to struggle to get out of bed the next morning.

And that was the problem, it wasn't on its own. Of the last nineteen nights that had passed, I worked late seventeen of them. Most of them ended later than yesterday. And just because I was bone-weary didn't mean the dreams and nightmares weren't going to come.

Except for last night.

In short. I was a mess. Dragged from the first comforting bout of sleep I'd had in what felt like years. Because everyone decided today was a good day to all turn up.

"Director, Captain Rogers requests you make an appearance downstairs," the AI interrupted the workings of my mind for the fourth time that morning.

"What time is it?" I asked and realised how dry my mouth was.

"Almost nine o'clock."

That was pretty late for me and I didn't feel any better for it. My eyes ached so much they were on the point of burning and my muscles twinged at the slightest movement. All things I'm sure a hot shower could wash away.

"Why is everyone here?" I said to the room as I shuffled around to get clean clothes before heading to the bathroom.

"For Thanksgiving, Director."

Well shit, that came around quick.

The grogginess of the morning wore away under the steady lashing of water from the shower. When I got out I threw my clothes on and brushed my hair, opting to let it dry naturally so as to get downstairs sooner.

All the while I searched my mind for any mentions of the holiday, any plans to celebrate together that might have been hidden in Pepper's video calls, or in Tony's jokes. But there wasn't anything to be found.

And yet it was too much of a coincidence for any of this to be unplanned.

"There she is," Tony said as I walked into the kitchen to join the crowd, "wondered when you might join us."

"Did you get lost on the way to your own kitchen?" I asked as I poured myself a massive mug of coffee.

"Technically," the billionaire replied, "this is my kitchen."

I laughed and Pepper scolded him from across the room before she glided over and pulled me into a hug.

"I've hidden your work tablet and, unless it's an emergency, FRIDAY's banned from letting you check in on anything. It's a holiday, so no working."

"Look who's talking," I said and took a seat at the dining table so I could watch Rhodey and Bruce work in the kitchen, a lot harder to do now one of them was a giant. Steve stood with them, fighting the impulse to help.

"I heard that."

"I think you were meant to, honey," Tony said, "unless Nat's getting careless in her old age. How come the old man isn't helping them out?"

"I've banned him from cooking," I said with a smirk. Pepper took a seat beside me and watched the scene unfold.

"How come?" Tony asked.

"He had a streak of cooking disasters, then Okoye turned up and I didn't want anyone to think we were trying to poison her."

Tony laughed. "And the decorations," he said, "they're up so early because?"

"It's a distraction."

I felt a hand on my foot and I looked down to see Morgan smiling up at me. In a matter of seconds she was sitting on my lap and I had a sense of a good day ahead.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, unable to keep my curiosity at bay anymore.

"Well, after you blew us off last year we thought we wouldn't even bother to ask," Pepper said, "especially since you ended up celebrating it anyway."

"That wasn't my idea," I said, "that was Steve." I didn't dare mention it was for my birthday, they would probably like that reminder even less.

"Even so, no excuses this year. We're in it together." Morgan chose that moment to make a noise. "See, even she agrees."

It was peaceful this morning.

Pepper and I had turfed the guys from the kitchen and left them to mill about. They were grateful to give up the cooking duties, and we were grateful because it meant a decent dinner might be in store. They found board games to give up on, film reruns to talk through, and dredged up memories of past Thanksgivings.

Peaceful

The cracks papered over. The rocky personalities sanded down.

But the faces of the missing floated before us all, as they were wont to do on days like this. They ripped through the paper and wore away the smooth edges. Friction returned to comments and tension to the atmosphere.

There were gripes and barbs and passive-aggressive comments bubbling up as if they were the ones sitting on a boiling hob instead of the pots and pans. It was hard to tell if it was more heated in the kitchen or between Tony and Steve.

Pepper and I shared a look.

"Steve, come here a sec will you?" I said. He marched over and there was a lot of undiluted emotion in his eyes.

"You better not tell me to go and cool off, I didn't do anything," he said and remembered Pepper was there, "sorry."

I searched my brain for anything relevant that I could have possibly called him over for and grabbed at the first thing that came to mind. "I wanted to make the potatoes like your mum used to, since you rave about them all the time." His eyes bore into mine and I challenged him to find a fault in my story.

"Really willing to let me back in the kitchen?" He said.

"Can't hurt with responsible supervision," I said, relieved he'd accepted the diversion, "anyway, you did a decent job last Thanksgiving. Maybe your cooking skills bloom once a year."

We busied ourselves with the meal prep as the others whiled away their time. Steve calmed down in the heat of the kitchen, helping us however he could. Every now and then Tony would throw a rueful glance our way. Pepper caught one of them and raised an eyebrow that forced his attention away from us.

"I still don't know how you put up with him constantly," I said.

"Please, you know as well as I do he's not as bad as he makes out. There are some things I wish he was less stubborn about," she looked at Steve. "You do have a way of pushing his buttons though."

Steve bristled as he took her words the wrong way. "I don't do it on purpose."

Pepper just smiled and placed a hand at the top of his arm. "I know you don't. He doesn't either."

And that was the day.

Hearty food and heartfelt exchanges. It didn't happen between everyone but it was enough. Bickering wasn't as important as it was in the days before the Snap. Both Steve and Tony held their tongues, when not so long ago they would have let them go free. Today wasn't about disagreements, or grudges, or wounded pride.

It was about the day itself. Because we were together, in the present. Finding a way to not think about the past and not worry about the future. We laughed as Bruce revealed his custom-made plate with a knife and fork to match, even harder when he piled the plate to mountainous heights.

The conversation was easy, a balm upon the late night and the forced awakening. The laughter that trickled around the table was like music, and the smiles were pictures a lot of us thought we'd never see again, at least not in full force.

In the back of our minds, as always were the people who weren't there, and we took a moment to remember them.

On the day we were meant to be our most grateful, I found myself glad to still be here simply because it gives me the opportunity to guide the others home.

They're words I say a lot, and I know I have little to show for it. But I have to keep writing, to keep saying, in whatever way I can, because the hope needs to stay alive.

So that one day, they will be too.