"Why are you in here?"
Clint heard his daughter's voice as he walked down the corridor in search of Steve, the currently M.I.A soldier. Laura was just behind him and they both hurried at the question. But they stopped short when they heard the gruff answer.
"I don't know." It was Steve in that desolate tone of his, as corrosive as the acid that dripped from some of Tony's insults. And Natasha's, to be fair.
"You shouldn't be," Lila said with a hard edge. They were in Nat's room, old room really. Or maybe it was more of a shrine at the moment. Clint and Laura inched closer to the open doorway and peered in. Steve was sitting on the foot of the bed, Lila stood next to him. Her parents exchanged a look. The middle Barton child was very territorial when it came to this part of the property, they both thought Steve was lucky that she hadn't noticed him before now.
"Sorry," he said, but made no move to leave. Lila hesitated for just a second then sat next to him. The bed made a slight noise in protest, but that faded into silence as if it knew it shouldn't interrupt. There was another hesitation as the only other Barton who could match Clint's confidence patted Steve's shoulder.
"It's okay," she said, "I don't think she'd mind. She had a lot of respect for you."
"Did she?"
"Yeah. I thought that was obvious."
Steve ducked his head and grasped the back of his neck with both hands, fingers interlocking as he no doubt wrestled with the feelings that had risen within himself over the course of the last few journal entries. Lila placed both her hands in her lap and though neither of them could see her face, both Laura and Clint thought she was regretting engaging in conversation.
"What was it like?" Lila said, going for an odd change of subject, "on the battlefield in Wakanda."
Steve sucked in a breath but he sat up straight again. Clint knew that body language; it might not be Steve's favourite subject but it was one he could talk about. Something once so painful, lessened by its undoing.
"It was like living a nightmare. You ever had those, where you just try to wake up?" He paused and looked at the girl, who nodded. "Just like that. Except I couldn't wake up. The sound of battle was going off all around us for a while but when it came to the actual moment it was so quiet. I don't know how many people fell apart before it dawned on us, but that's when the yelling started. Warriors and soldiers, hardened by some of the toughest tests, called out for their comrades-in-arms, their loved ones, anyone they once knew. Because we did everything we could but it wasn't good enough."
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "What was it like for you?" He asked and if the momentary silence was anything to go by, Lila was stunned by the question.
"I dunno, it's hard to remember," she said, "I asked Wanda about it and she said she felt it coming and embraced it. But I didn't feel it. I don't think any of us did otherwise we would have shouted out to each other. And to hear him tell it we disappeared without a trace. All I know is that one moment he was with me while I practised shooting and the next moment he wasn't."
"Shooting, huh?"
"Yeah," Lila said, "I mean, don't tell him because it'll go to his head, but archery with dad was always one of my favourite things. Feels kinda tainted now, though."
Clint's heart swelled at his daughter's words, then deflated at the rest of them. She was right. If they ever picked it up again it would always be accompanied by the shadow of what had happened before.
"I won't tell him," Steve said, his voice soft and a lot less desolate as he embraced the detour away from the journals, "maybe you should, though. He's a little lost at the moment. Something like that might be just what he needs."
"And you're not?"
"Hmmm?"
"A little lost."
"No," he laughed as a man with nothing to laugh about would, "I'm a lot lost."
"I suppose it doesn't help, knowing you might see them again." Lila said.
"What do you mean?" Panic crept into Steve's voice again and if Lila knew she said the wrong thing she didn't show it.
"I-uh, I overheard you on the phone to Doctor Banner," she said, "you mentioned about having to put the Stones back. And I just, well I thought, that if you had to take them back to when they were taken, you'd see Mister Stark and Auntie Nat again."
It was Steve's turn to fumble about with his hands and act like he didn't know what to do with them. "I hadn't thought about that," he said.
"Oh, sorry."
Clint's stomach turned to lead and hit the floor. He hadn't thought about that either. The idea that those final, private moments were going to be witnessed didn't sit well. Not because he was ashamed of anything. As horrible as his trip to Vormir was, he knew he'd been a better version of himself up there. But because those moments were painful and heartbreaking and he'd hoped he could spare others from that pain.
"You seem angry at Auntie Nat," Lila said, steering back to the earlier topic of why he was in the room, and Clint was drawn from his anguish to an admiration for his daughter's skill at navigating the conversation.
"She lied to me," Steve said and though there was some heat to his voice it wasn't as ferocious as it once was.
"I don't think she did. The thing about Auntie Nat, and it's one of my favourite things, was that she always said what I needed to hear. Whether it was what I wanted to hear or not. Sounds to me like that's what she did for you. She filtered her words so you heard what you needed to. Did it help?"
"Yeah," Steve said after he cast his mind back, "it did."
"Then you can't be angry."
There was a deep chuckle and it was a relief to hear Steve laugh a little. He'd wound himself up so tight over the course of the day. "So wise for someone so young. You remind me of her."
"No," Lila said and shook her head, "she always said I was the best parts of my parents."
"Maybe, but there's a little bit of her in you too, and that's no bad thing," Steve said and pondered the girl for a second, "tell me about her. Auntie Nat. I didn't see enough of that side of her."
"Oh, she was the best," Lila smiled, and from the tone of her voice Clint guessed it was a watery one, "I don't really know what to say. How do you fit someone like that into a few words, you know?"
"By focusing on their actions."
Lila, who had dropped her head a little to stare at her hands, looked back up at the soldier at her side. "Actions?" Steve nodded.
"She did so much," Lila wiped a hand across her eyes. "Sometimes we wouldn't know she was coming, and we'd get out of school and she'd be standing at the gate, all cool and stuff, like it was something she always did. Her car was always parked a few minutes away to stop the kids from talking. She was proper paranoid about that, you know, attention. I used to wish she would bring the bike. I even said that once and she said I had to wait until I was older."
Lila paused and took a deep breath before carrying on. "On those days we'd go for ice cream; mint and chocolate for Coop, strawberry and banana for me, vanilla and always a different second flavour for Auntie Nat. Her sweet tooth was worse than dad's. Sometimes we went to the bookstore instead, you know, the one in town. She'd always buy a bunch of them. One in Russian, that I don't think was for her, one in English that was, one that Coop liked the look of and one that I did. Then, if it wasn't a school night we'd go for a walk through the woods and she'd tell us these really creepy Russian stories full of magic and strange creatures and she'd chase us around until Coop threw leaves at her to make her stop or she'd caught one of us and tickled until we surrendered. Just, proper family stuff. Nothing big but they're some of my favourite memories because that's when I saw her real smile and heard her real laugh. I mean, I like to think they were real anyway, because her eyes were always so much brighter."
Lila paused again and Clint found his cheeks were no longer dry. Her words might be simple but they came to life with everything Lila put into them, and Clint could almost see their trips through the woods or for ice cream. Laura held a hand to her mouth as she tried not to sob.
"Som- umm, sometimes," Lila said and there was a catch in her voice, "she would tell us about the places she went. I always loved those tales. She made the world sound like such a magical place, you know. All you guys saw the pragmatist, the one who weighed everything up and saw everything exactly as it was. But when she came here, when she was with us we got the optimist who found all the beautiful things and told us the stories and I wanted to go to all these places. And somehow, somehow she made the farm, our little part of the world, sound like the best of it all. Oh and, and-"
Lila paused to pull her sleeve over her hand and wipe at her eyes.
"And she was the best story reader. I remember that always being important when I was younger. She put on all these voices and really got into the story, she gave some of the characters accents. To this day I still think Winnie the Pooh is Spanish." A small laugh was shared between all four people. "I'd sneak out of bed to go and see her. When she was here, if the weather wasn't too bad, she'd go sit out on the porch seat. Always in her pyjamas and slippers, with a blanket, a book, and mug of hot chocolate. I'd listen out for the noise of her settling down and then go find her and snuggle up to her under the blanket. The book was always one I eyed up at the store, and though it was in English she read it out loud in Russian. That's how I started learning. I wanted to sound like her. When I got a little older she started bringing a hot chocolate out for me and it was always the thing I looked forward to most. That time with her that was just us.
"But I can't even remember the last time it happened," she sobbed, "I didn't expect it to be the last time. And-and there's so much more. So much more to her and I already feel like I'm forgetting it all. And I-I-I don't want to forget because she's Auntie Nat, and that - and she-" her words failed her but her tears did not. Steve was startled but he pulled her into a hug and it hurt Clint that it wasn't him comforting her. "I just miss her so much."
"It's okay to miss her," Steve said as he rubbed her back.
"Really," Lila said and pulled away from him, something Steve looked relieved about, "it doesn't feel like that sometimes."
"What do you mean?" He adopted the soothing tone he often had in reserve for struggling team members, and it was just as effective on her.
"Everyone here, everyone listening to those journals and talking about her knew her more, knew her longer. She was dad's best friend, mum's too I think. The two of you and Wanda were on the run together. Fury and Hill were her bosses and she spent most of her time at work. And I'm just a kid, you know. I didn't even know her that well, she wasn't even my real auntie."
"Just because you guys weren't related by blood doesn't mean she wasn't your real aunt," Steve said, "and, Lila, it sounds to me like you're the one who knew her best. So you go ahead and miss her as much as possible and as often as you need. Because I know she missed you just as much."
Lila sobbed again and said, "yeah, but the difference is, she's not coming back."
Darkness had descended.
Light flooded through the windows and out into the back. Voices filtered through, words muffled but the tone unmistakably cheery. Almost loud enough to cover the repetitive swish and thunk of someone chopping wood.
The split logs scented the air and Clint took a moment to take it all in. There was always something comforting about the smell of nature under the night sky. Though, try as he might, the archer couldn't find any comfort in Steve's need to excuse himself from the table and start adding to their already overstocked firewood supply.
"Don't," Steve rumbled before Clint could say anything.
"Don't what?" Clint said into the sound of two more logs coming into existence.
"I know you were eavesdropping earlier. Don't lecture me. I don't need it."
"Well, I don't need more firewood, yet here we are."
Steve shot him such a dark look Clint thought he was about to get decked. Then he let go of the axe and walked away, hands in the air. The archer wanted nothing more than to head back into house and let the storm pass by unbothered. But he owed this man a lot.
"Hey-"
"What?" Steve barked without looking back.
"I dunno, I hadn't really thought much past 'hey', I was just gonna see what fell out of my mouth. Sooo, hey."
The soldier stopped in his tracks and Clint had to pull up short to walk around him instead of right into him. "You've got a wise kid there."
"I like to think all my kids are wise. Except Nate, that guy's just a jackass at the moment."
A small smile crept across Steve's face and Clint felt like there was a lot riding on this conversation, though he wasn't exactly sure how he found himself in this position when he was one of the people who most needed help getting through this exceptionally rough patch.
"She said it was okay to go," Steve said, "if I'd known,I wouldn't have."
"Nice sentiment, Steve, if I've said it before I've said it a thousand times; if she didn't want you to know, you would never know."
"What is it with you two and your smart-mouthed comments?"
"She got it from me," Clint shrugged, "total copycat."
They settled into the silence between them for a few seconds. To anyone else in any other situation it would have been peaceful. But for anyone in this household, where all these emotions and memories were dredged up, it was anything but.
To anyone else it would have felt normal.
But Clint had started to suspect normal wasn't something he'd ever feel again. His normality was standing on the sidelines of history, being the person who helps it happen by completing his missions. It was a little boring at first, then Nat joined him, and they hidden together in the shadows of history makers. Then along came the Avengers and they found themselves straying into the spotlight more.
Never did he think there would be a moment in history that would hinge on just the two of them. The others played their part, but none of it mattered if the two assassin's failed. In that moment, on that planet, history watched them to see where it was going to go next. And once again he was shoved to the sidelines, watching someone else make it.
He hated his normal front row seat as history ripped one of his favourite people away.
Sure, he may never feel normal again, unbalanced as he was by everything. But even he couldn't imagine what Steve felt. A man who kept finding then losing his normal. How could he trust where he stepped when the ground always fell away underfoot?
"I don't feel like I was a good enough friend," the soldier said at last.
"I think I got you beat in that department, Cap."
Both had the decency to not try and dissuade the other of their notions, because sometimes all they needed was to be heard. And they heard each other loud and clear.
"She looked like the was coping."
"I know Steve, I believe you."
"I just wish she'd said those words. I wouldn't have left her."
"Natasha was many things in her life, she played many people, faced a lot of choices others wouldn't have. I can say, with absolute certainty, she was never selfish," Clint said to a collage of moments flashing through his mind. "She knew you wouldn't have left if she said anything, she also knew you needed to leave. And I love her and everything but lying was one of her many strengths and she did it often. I heard what Lila said to you too. And she's right. Nat told you what you needed to hear. I might have a little more insight into that though."
"I'm all ears," Steve said. He'd started pacing, but never strayed too far from Clint.
"That memory she wrote about, the ballet one, did she ever tell you about it?"
"No," Steve said, "I didn't even know she did ballet until a few years ago.
"She did tell me, though never in as much detail as in her journal. To be honest, I don't think she ever planned on mentioning it, but she let it slip."
"That doesn't sound like her."
Clint smiled. "No, it doesn't. But those early days she wasn't herself. She was a mix of KGB conditioning and a confused kid breaking free and finding herself in a world she couldn't comprehend, and that couldn't comprehend her. Don't get me wrong, she was still pretty guarded, and much deadlier than when you knew her, but the deprogramming wasn't easy on her. There were things she was made to forget and they all came crashing back to her; always worse that the things they allowed her to remember.
"That routine, though, it was always there. At the back of her mind, at the front of it, drilling its way through. They used it to break the girls; make them pliable for whatever mission awaited. They never broke Tasha. She danced until they said 'enough' and she took all the pain she felt and used it to make herself stronger. But that doesn't mean she was ever in control."
"Is that what she said?" Steve asked and Clint was glad to hear the anger and disappointment had left his voice.
"No, it's what I think. Do you know what else I think?" Steve shook his head. "It think it's a memory that only cropped up when she didn't feel in control. Her deprogramming, after the Hulk almost killed her, the fall of Shield. I'm willing to bet she had a few more nightmares than usual when you guys were on the run."
A moment's pause and Steve nodded again.
"And trying to un-Thanos a post-Thanos world," Clint sighed. "Like Lila said. She didn't tell you what you wanted to hear, she told you what you needed to hear. It's a happy accident they were the same thing. She also chose not to say what she wanted, and I think that helped her regain a little control. Remember that. Even if neither of you realised it at the time."
"How did two assassins get so good at giving advice?"
"Wasn't easy," Clint said with a grin, "when you've seen as much as we have and forced to as many therapy sessions as we have, you get a feel for it."
Steve clasped Clint's shoulder and gave it a small squeeze. "Thank you."
"No," Clint said, "thank you, for being there for her. Are you okay to carry on?"
"Yeah," Steve said, "I think so."