A/N:

Hi guys! Happy New Year :)

Not 100% happy with this one but don't want to get into a habit of not posting. Enjoy!

7 June 2020

Hi Tom,

We've managed to creep into the warmer months without me really noticing. The flowers are out, I see them through the window, swaying in the breeze, fully bloomed. I imagine they're surrounded by bees and bugs, willingly giving life to the ecosystem that depends on them. I imagine there's birdsong too, muted but still beautiful.

At least, that's what it was like a few days ago.

Then the storm came and it felt like it raged at the world.

It flashed up from nowhere and showed no signs of subsiding. The lake splashed and crashed in the wind, the little peaceful dock submerged under wave after wave. The wind knocked against the windows, desperate to whip down the corridors and through each room. Ready to prove its ferocity. At some point it was joined by pelting hail. Trees bent to the power of the howling storm, leaves clung on with all the natural strength they could muster.

I was given fleeting glimpses of this image outside as lightening forked through the sky.

Thor crossed my mind several times. I hoped he was okay, I hoped this wasn't anything to do with him. I wish that thought hadn't come to mind, but it did and I couldn't banish it. All I could do was talk myself round.

He wasn't in America, he was in New Asgard, shunning society and welcoming the dangerous solace that came from being blind drunk. Even in his darkest of moods he wouldn't summon something as vicious as what had appeared, not if it would take innocent lives. Not when it was the loss of life that had sent him so deep.

The guilt of linking his name to the weather phenomenon only deepened when his name was thrown about in the media. They didn't bother to reason though. I'd hoped to sweep it under the rug, but it was clear no such thing was going to happen.

9 June 2020

The storm passed, as they always do.

The speculation around it did not.

Once upon a time when there was a huge weather anomaly the attention was on the devastation it wreaked. With gods and magic now a part of the equation we, as a species, became a little less willing to focus on the consequences of our actions and a little more focused on who else could take the blame.

I'd seen a lot of things in my time, but making a depressed and intoxicated god a scapegoat had to be a first. It made me glad Thor had never shown an interest in following the news on Earth.

If he had he would have seen Rhodey was summoned to the UN headquarters. I imagine they gave him a very long and very dull speech about the important duty of keeping the civilians on Earth safe from all forms of threats. All I knew for sure is that when they were done droning on they packed him on his way with nothing but a short and to-the-point letter. All in all, it was an impressive waste of resources.

"This is demeaning," Rhodey said once he stepped out of his suit and threw the letter on my desk, "I'm a highly decorated officer, I've flown a shit ton of missions, and look at all the bells and whistles on this thing," he kicked the leg of his suit, "all they wanna do is use me like an owl to give you a letter that would've been easier to email."

"Hey, don't shoot the messenger, not my fault they're trying to make a point," I said, holding my hands in the air in mock surrender and letting the classic smirk shine through.

"I am the messenger. That's the whole goddamn point." He threw himself on the sofa and covered his eyes with a hand.

"Alright then, don't shoot the recipient of the message. I'd do just as well without it." I carried on scrolling through the report I was examining of Friday's daily attempts to search out Clint. Rhodey had interrupted with his dramatic entrance.

"Are you gonna open it? Or are you gonna make my trip entirely pointless?"

"Wow, Hedwig's grumpy," I said, "better get you some owl treats."

"Ha ha ha, hilarious. Tell me, when're you joining the comedy circuit?"

"I was thinking some time towards the end of the year," I said and grabbed the letter he was so twisted out of shape about. After all our talk of owls I was a little disappointed it didn't have a wax seal on it, but I tore open the envelope and pulled the single sheet of folded paper out. I made a show of unfolding it and clearing my throat. Rhodey flipped me off and the smirk that was forming in response died on my lips as I read.

"Oh for fuck's sake," I said, crumpled it into a ball and chucked it into the bin. Then I did the same with the envelope for good measure. Knowing he was going to ask me what they wanted, I rolled my chair back, stood, and left for the kitchen. Incensed by the demand printed out with black ink on whiter than white paper. Written so simply and innocently as if the task was just the same.

Rhodey made the wise decision to stay behind while I clattered around the kitchen and grabbed a bunch of leftovers. The microwave went about its duty of heating it all up and I set about making a couple of drinks. The words were still swimming in my vision as I rejoined the man whose efforts I'd just chucked in the bin.

The audacity of such a request. I shouldn't even be surprised.

They wanted me to go from super spy to super sleuth.

And they did it in the most insulting manner. Using War Machine as nothing but a method of airmail to tell the Black Widow to keep Thor, God of thunder, under control.

I placed Rhodey's drink and food on the coffee table, when I finally looked up I saw he held the letter in his hands.

"Bastards," he muttered.

"Dinner," I said, "at least try and get back some of that wasted energy." He ate in silence and I dined in the smell of reheated chilli, listening to my stomach when it said it couldn't handle anything more. Rhodey may have given me the odd look for making him eat alone, but he didn't push the fact. Though he'd concerned himself with my eating habits in the past, I appreciated his hands-off-unless-necessary attitude. He trusted my judgement on the matter.

"What're you gonna do about that?" He nodded towards the letter as he took a break from the food to sip at the now-cooled tea.

"Well, I can't just ignore it, can I?" I didn't look up from my screen but I sensed the grin that spread across his face.

"You're going to make them regret asking, aren't you?"

"I couldn't possibly say. Some people in this room may need plausible deniability."

"There's the Natasha I know."

"Would be weird if you were sat there talking with your mouth full to a Natasha you didn't know."

"Smart arse." He scraped the last of his meal onto his fork, filled his mouth and allowed the cutlery to clatter back onto the plate before falling into the back of the sofa with a contented sigh. "Now that was good. One of yours?"

"Yep," I said, mind flashing back to the freezer full of leftovers I was happy to palm off on other people, knowing I was never going to get through even a third of it, "I have some borscht too, but made an educated guess you'd prefer the chilli."

"Is that that weird beetroot soup?"

I nodded.

"Your educated guess was spot on."

"For a man of the world, you're not very adventurous when it comes to food."

"Hey," he said and shot me a baleful look, "that could have been mild, spicy, or hotter than what's safe. I didn't know. That's like playing Russian Roulette with my taste buds."

"Ever played real Russian Roulette with a real Russian?" I said.

"Err, can't say that I have," he said, sipping at his drink, "nor a fake one either."

"See, not adventurous. One of my favourite games as a kid," I said and stretched an innocent smile across my face. Making military-man-Rhodey squirm was almost as much fun as making military-man-Rogers blush.

"Uhh," he shifted in his seat as he failed to think of a reply. He settled for changing the subject instead. "I'm surprised it took them so long to make their first formal request of us. Trust it to be a dud."

Under the amended Sokovia Accords the UN was well within their rights to send a mission our way, despite us having wrested the reins of total control from their grasp. Though we don't have to carry out the mission it's considered good form to cooperate. I made it a point to stay on top of anything that might catch their attention, that way the Avengers could handle it how we saw fit before having to deal with interference from a group of people who found themselves light on the detail but heavy on the political bias. Even in my wildest dreams, though, I wouldn't have guessed they'd ask me to make the weather behave itself.

"Dud?" I asked, finally putting the work to one side and giving my friend my undivided attention.

"Well, it can't be Thor, can it?"

"It could," I said and thought back to the last time I saw him and the story Korg told me, "he did it in New Asgard. Way smaller scale. Someone mentioned Thanos and he just lost it."

"But do you think he would?"

No. I didn't think he would. He was a man with a huge amount of power and I could believe that the storm in New Asgard was an accident. But the size of the storm that had swept America, I didn't believe that could go unnoticed and I didn't believe he would do something like that intentionally.

"Either way," I said, "I have to go play Natasha Holmes in Europe."

"Or Sherlock Romanoff."

"If you're going to make a lame joke, at least have the decency to jump on your own one and not the coattails of someone else's."

"Oooh, now look who's the grumpy one." I threw a pen at him and it smacked him square between the eyes. "Well, on that note I better be off." He stood up and cracked a few joints into place.

"Really, you're just gonna leave the dishes?" I said.

"Yep."

"And you're not going to stick around and help?" I followed him and he gave me a quick hug before stepping into his suit, his grin already wide.

"Nope. Seems more like a problem for the head of the Avengers, and that would be you, not me. That and I still have all these wizard letters to deliver."

I folded my arms and sent him a glare with no real heat to it. "Seems like I won't be the only newbie to the comedy circuit."

He saluted and navigated his way out of the building, leaving a ringing silence behind, along with his dirty dishes. The smell of his meal still lingered.

"Friday, is Bruce still up?"

"Yes Director, Doctor Banner is working in his lab." The instant reply made me thankful we shared the same AI. Aware one or both of us could consider it an invasion of privacy, we had a discussion soon after he first moved out, both worried about the other's wellbeing, knowing where our minds like to lead us when left to our own devices. We decided it would be a hell of a lot easier to give Friday permission to share basic information at the other's request.

"Good. Can you let him know I'm on my way over."

"Righto, Director."

"Righto?"

"I was trying something."

"Sounds more like Jarvis than you, Friday."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"You sound better as yourself."

"I will keep that in mind, Director."

"I also prefer you not calling me that," I said and tried to keep the exasperation out of my tone.

"Still nothing I can do about that, Director. You'll need to take it up with the boss."

I used the trip to Bruce's as an excuse to take my bike for a spin. I hadn't had a chance to use it for months and I'd forgotten what it felt like to roar down the road at speeds almost too indecent to mention. Forgotten how much I missed darting between cars and basking in the anonymity of my helmet whenever they took umbrage.

For some reason, the darkening skies and the incandescent street lights set adrenaline to pumping through my body as I bombed it down the streets. I put it down to one too many flights of necessity through cities at this time of day; chasing down a target or escaping my own tail. That was the problem with the spy life, danger (and excitement) lurked behind the most mundane of facades. Most others called it paranoia, and sometimes they were right, but people like me call it caution.

After a ride that was over far too soon, I parked up outside Bruce's and switched the engine off. The air was cool against my face when I removed my helmet and I took a moment to enjoy the silence now the bike no longer rumbled beneath me. It seemed strange to me that while I couldn't bear the silence that filled the compound, I didn't mind the flower-scented one on Bruce's land so much.

He really had been busy with it. Though the evening muted the effect, I saw the progress he'd made with the garden and found the walk up the path was a peaceful one. I heard a trickling somewhere and pictured a water feature babbling away. As intrigued as I was to see it, I wasn't there on a personal call.

"Well, if it isn't New York's favourite spider," the man himself said from the doorway before I'd even reached the door. He was backlit by a soft glow from inside, if it wasn't for the little lights standing sentinel along the path he would have been thrown into silhouette. As it was, I saw the gleam in his eyes and the flash of teeth in his smile. A smile that looked remarkably comfortable given the fact, until recently, he was a man who didn't smile often.

"I don't know about that," I said. He moved aside and gestured me in. I took him up on the invite then took advantage of the coat hook beside the door, relieving myself of my leather jacket then resting my helmet where anyone else would put their shoes. I was surprised by how homely the place felt, though it was huge Bruce had managed to make it feel cosy. He'd refrained from making much of a statement with the walls but everything else screamed a character no one would have guessed, unless they knew how long he'd spent travelling the world.

He had eclectic taste, and mixed decor from different cultures but it somehow didn't clash. Yet, threaded through it all were things that you would expect of Bruce. A pile of New Scientist magazines on his coffee table, heavy books on what looked like industrial strength bookcases, prints of molecules and atoms hung up as pieces of art, I think I even spotted an artistic rendering of the formula he'd used to merge the two facets of his being.

"Hmmm, you do have a point," he said and closed the door behind him, "I watched all those clips of Spider-man on YouTube. Pretty impressive."

"Even more when you know he's a kid," I said and went to look at some of the prints, not quite wanting to sit yet.

"You're in the top five though, I think. Drink?"

I thought about the coffee on my desk I'd left to go cold and felt the thirst that had settled deep on my journey. "Water, please." I flashed him a smile. "I doubt I'm even in the top ten, but if everyone's BFG is a fan who am I to argue?"

His laughter echoed on the way to the kitchen. It was deep and resonant and warm. I wished I'd heard it more often.

"BFG? As in Big Friendly Giant?"

"Yeah, if anyone can pull it off you can, unless...You have read Roald Dahl haven't you?"

He just shrugged his shoulders and eased a glass from a cupboard. I would have offered to help but he wouldn't accept it. Every little thing he did for his guests was practice for living in a world surrounded by people smaller than him. He had two lots of cups, cutlery, and crockery; one lot reinforced to withstand his sizeable increase in strength, and one lot for his non-hulking visitors.

The practice must have worked, as I watched he was a lot more nimble than the last time I saw him try to negotiate something so mundane. Though, there were a couple of moments I thought he might crush the glass.

"One water," he said, placing it on the counter.

"Thanks." I took a sip and relished the coolness. "How're you Bruce?"

Never one to say anything he didn't mean, he took a moment to think. A lot had changed about him but there was nothing different about how expressive his face was. I read every emotion that flickered across it before he settled on an answer I could have predicted. "I'm good," he said, "it's a little tough getting used to some of the changes but I haven't felt this good in a long time, Nat. Since even before the incident."

"That's really good to hear." I sent him a quick smile and almost downed the rest of my drink. I saw he was going to return the question and a small flame of panic ignited in my gut as I imagined what on Earth I might tell him. I should have been fine, since lying is my business and all, but I didn't much fancy avoiding the truth after the particularly honest moment he'd shared with me. So I followed Rhodey's earlier example and shifted the subject. "I'm afraid I'm not here for a social call."

"Figured as much," Bruce said, and winced a second later as he replayed the words, even though I didn't react, "sorry, I didn't mean work is the only reason you'd be here. Just that we've noticed you've only left the compound for work."

There was something endearing, if a little disconcerting, about the Hulk stuttering and stammering about.

"By 'we' do you mean you and Tony?"

He paused halfway through his old habit of wringing his hands and his mouth formed an 'o' as he realised what he'd said, then nodded.

"I went to his for Morgan's birthday," I said, waving away his concern.

"That was in January, Nat. It's June now."

"I hate it when other people have a point." He smiled at me and we let silence pass between us as I finished off what was in my glass. There was music coming from somewhere, what notes I managed to pick up sounded classical. Apparently good for keeping him focused as well as calm.

"Do you remember at the wedding," I asked as he started making himself an herbal tea, "you asked if you could rejoin the Avengers."

"I believe you called it your 'super awesome, super effective, domestic and intergalactic Avenger's club'," he blew away some of the rising steam from his cup, "then you called me 'a little bit weird and a little bit tragic'."

"Did I? That doesn't sound like something I'd say." I shot him an overplayed quizzical look. "I do seem to remember saying you'd fit right in, though."

He chuckled and braved a sip of the still-steaming tea. The music wafted in and out of hearing and I found myself oddly reluctant to make the offer. It was necessary, and he was the one to ask originally. But seeing him so comfortable in his skin and settled into his home, I hated that I was the one, once again, coming to shake things up.

Still, one of the many things I excelled at was doing what needed to be done.

"Are you ready?"

He looked at me and considered my words as carefully as he considered his earlier. He analysed the question in as much depth as he could, looking at all the possible outcomes of his answer. Unlike some I could mention, he was not impulsive and impetuous. His caution was a matter of pride.

"Theoretically, yes. But things might be different once I'm in the field. I'm not exactly known for thinking on my feet as quickly as the rest of you. When would you need me to start?"

"A request from the UN has pushed my schedule up a bit." It was true. Recruiting Bruce back onto the Avengers was on my agenda for a while, I wanted to give him another couple of months a bit of warm-up time that he could use to reacquaint himself with the idea of being on the team once again.

"Straight away then?"

"Pretty much," I said, shrugging an apology his way. "You don't need to worry about any of the ongoing jobs, I can still manage those from wherever I am. It's more if anything unexpected turns up on home soil. And you won't be alone, Rhodey's around."

"He's just being pulled this way and that," he said.

"Pretty much."

"I'm happy to help," Bruce said, "especially if it means you'll be getting out of that compound more often."

"And just how often have you left here?"

"That's different."

"No it's not, you hypocrite."

My watch buzzed as something popped through in one of my many inboxes, which cut Bruce's laughter off.

"Gotta get back to it?" He asked.

"Probably." I held a hand out to him. "Welcome back to the Avengers, Bruce."

"Thanks Nat," he said and enveloped my hand with his, careful not to shake too hard, "I'm looking forward to working with you again."

11 June 2020

Hi Tom,

Another night, another nightmare.

Why do I even bother trying to sleep?

I don't remember much, but there was a lot of blood. There's always a lot of blood.

I stared up at the ceiling, tried to make out the details but it was too shrouded in shadow. My eyes burned. I put it down to lack of sleep, but my emotions swirled in an entangled mess as I brought myself back to reality.

It was in these post-nightmare moments I felt just how empty the compound was. I slipped out of my quarters as usual, treaded softly through the corridors as usual, forced my heartbeat to steady itself as usual. But I didn't pass Steve. Didn't pre-empt my early morning wanderings with our 'see you in a minute' joke. Didn't find comfort in his presence.

Not that I needed him. I was made to be independent and no matter what, I would remain that way. It's just, I found I liked that familiarity. It was always much easier to get over a nightmare when there was someone to lean on. And I hoped that was something I'd helped him with too, whenever he was plagued by malignant dreams.

I made my way to the roof and enjoyed the mild breeze that greeted me when I pushed the door open. That was one upside to nightmares in June, the night was much warmer.

All the lights were off, the compound and the land around it plunged into darkness. It made the stars and moon all the brighter, even if it felt like their light didn't land anywhere near me. I pulled my dressing robe tighter around my body and watched the sky. I let myself get lost in it instead of the memories that haunted my night time.

And when I felt focused enough I pulled my phone from my pocket, the dim glow of the screen even brighter than the stars above. It showed me a time that fell firmly into the early morning category, one I had seen too much of over the past few years. I unlocked my phone and my fingers hovered over the letters as I contemplated the pros and cons of texting Steve.

Need a rain check this weekend. Going travelling

I sent the message before I could think too much about it and slipped my phone back in my pocket. If I continued to second guess everything I did, I was going to put a strain on our friendship. And that was something neither of us needed. I closed my eyes and massaged my temple, feeling a headache coming on. As if my brain protested the lack of rest.

Well, it's your fault, I thought. Give me better dreams, give me no dreams, and I'll give you more sleep.

My pocket buzzed. I looked at my phone again.

I hope you're ditching me for somewhere nice.

This trendy place called New Asgard. I hear the people there are out of this world

Your jokes are worse than mine this time of the morning.

Rude. I've killed people for less than that you know

I don't doubt it. When will you be back?

Monday, I hope

Then I'll be round on Tuesday. Say hi to Thor for me.

I will if I see him :)

As we continued to speak the stars and moon disappeared, the darkness retreated. The sun crept above the horizon and I was surprised when I looked up to find it there, surrounded by a sky of all sorts of hues. Though my phone buzzed again I kept my attention on the everyday miracle happening right in front of me.

No matter how many days passed, I was always surprised to find myself at the dawning of a new day. Realised that I'd survived the one before. It was a feeling that had followed me throughout childhood and adolescence and didn't show any signs of stopping in adulthood. I counted myself lucky when I watched the sun rise.

One day I won't be around to watch it.

13 June 2020

Hi Tom,

Me and you are in New Asgard right now. I know right, Wakanda in April, a field mission last month, and Europe now - I'm a regular social butterfly.

It's deep in the night, waves are lapping against the walls of the harbour, urged on by the breeze, which is never as gentle at the coast as it is inland. Wildlife is scurrying about outside, enjoying the almost empty street and fresh sea air.

Valkyrie offered me her spare room, refusing to let me stay in the Quinjet overnight. I've slept in worse conditions before, in fact compared to some of the sleazy motels and hostels I've found myself in, it's a five-star hotel. But she says that's no reason to pass up a proper bed. I get a sense that these random acts of kindness she bestows on people are her way of making up for the path she went down in the past.

It's been over a year since I was last here but I'd kept in touch with her and Korg.

The great pile of rock because of his general light-hearted attitude. I found his habit of judging a book by its cover and title always added a bit of brightness to my day; so far he'd made his way through Cujo (because he had a friend with that name), Feet of Clay (because he too knows the burden of heavy feet), On the Road (because he wanted to try out some travel writing), and Circe (because it's fun to say). I didn't have the inclination to correct him on any account. Did that make me a bitch? Probably. But like I've said before, I need to find my fun somewhere. This month he'd picked out a nice, hefty book on geology. If his updates are anything to go by it's the best thing he's read since coming to Earth.

The female Asgardian who'd swapped her sword for a fishing net because she's a woman I can relate to. Except for the fishing. She has the best war stories. No 'Boom, you looking for this?' or dated World War Two anecdotes or boasts about zipping through the air at super-fast speeds. It was all pure face-to-face, split-second decision making, kill-or-be-killed-no-room-for-a-third-option combat. And that was my sort of combat, except hers was on a more cosmic scale. And, through our little chats I've learned more about the seedy underbelly of the galaxy than anyone else was willing to admit to. Sure, Rocket spent a long time trawling through it too, but he was focused on collecting bounties. Valkyrie went from one of the most respected warriors on Asgard to someone who captured fighters and sold them to the Grandmaster for his own amusement.

Anyway. Why are we here, you ask?

Never let it be said that I won't give it my all just because I don't want to do something.

For instance, there was no way I wanted to infiltrate Stark Industries to get close to the man himself all those years ago. His reputation was known the world over; I knew more than most. But it was necessary and it was my job, so I did it. And it ended up being the precursor to the most unexpected phase of my life.

And likewise, I didn't want to investigate my emotionally fragile friend on the assumption that he'd summoned up a raging storm to devastate a few states. But it was my job to get to the bottom of it, and that's exactly what I planned to do.

Why was I happy to throw myself into a job that pointed the fickle finger of blame at my former teammate? Because I was certain the storm was a freak of nature, not a freak of super-nature.

That's why I set Friday to work before I left. Time was a key factor, and multitasking a key solution. Even if I revealed the truth, if the mass public had enough time to accept Thor being the culprit as the truth, it would take too long to reverse their judgement. The court of public opinion was one foe I didn't have good odds against.

I started by nosing around the National Hurricane Center. If anywhere was going to have the data on the storm it was the NHC. Friday kept watch as I did the online equivalent of sneaking into the restricted section of the library; you could even say she was my invisibility cloak. Only, as well as keeping my intrusion hidden, she alerted me when Mrs Norris went to get Filch. I retreated with just enough information to know where I needed to focus our attention.

Their security system was surprisingly robust; one of the downsides of the tech race Stark Industries started when it shifted away from weapons. Friday was still better than top of the range, but with competitors catching up she was no longer untraceable. And federal buildings, though behind the times when compared to WOOPS and Avengers facilities, were not so ill-equipped that they wouldn't notice their high-tech visitor after a while. It was good for the advancement of technology as a whole, a pain in the ass if you wanted to hack the government undetected.

So, I had to go slow if I didn't want to be spotted; something told me citing a UN sanctioned mission if I was caught wouldn't be all the helpful. Thankfully I came away with enough information for Friday to go about creating a bespoke hacking programme with a high percentage chance of success without detection. But success meant patience as both Friday and I agreed a gradual hack was our best chance.

And, while Friday did her thing, I went and did mine.

With Bruce an official Avenger now, I jumped on the Quinjet (which is effectively my own personal jet now Steve lives in Brooklyn) and plotted a course for New Asgard. Full steam ahead.

The journey took a few hours. Nothing exciting happened, though I did finish a report for WOOPS that took a hell of a long time to compile. When I was a few miles out I switched to stealth mode, entering their airspace and touching down on their land without being noticed.

Last time, Valkyrie formed the entirety of my welcome party. This time, my surprise visit meant my welcome party was non-existent and I took some joy in a leisurely stroll down the hills and slopes to the village, and the view of the sea as it stretched forever onwards. It really was a beautiful part of the world.

Nothing much had changed. People bustled through the streets, most congregated at the port where their newfound livelihood came from. They yelled to one another as they readied this and that. The unmistakable fishy scent wafted on the sea air mixing with the salt that splashed up from the water.

A constant breeze blew and it was soft against my cheek though the coolness of it soon became harsh. I didn't fool myself into thinking I'd gone unnoticed. It was a small community and if a stranger didn't stand out enough, my two-tone hair did.

Not that it was my intention to stay hidden. I found a comfy patch of moss-covered wall and settled in to watch life bustle by. The stone dug into my legs and the inner coldness seeped through my jeans. It made me glad for the leather jacket that kept much of the breeze at bay.

By the time someone approached me, my cheeks were numb and my hair a tangled mess.

"Hey, friend of Thor. Hey," Korg's high voice travelled the space between us and he bounded along after it with his unique blend of heavy grace, a string bag full of groceries swinging at his side. "Oh, would you look at that, some of your hair is a different colour. That's the thing about not having any. It doesn't change. You here for the book club, right?"

"As much as it would delight me to spend the evening discussing geology, I need to see Thor."

"Ah, well, you see, he's not really seeing anyone at the moment. Sometimes he doesn't even want to see me and Miek. Come to the book club instead, I've bought chips and dip." He wiggled the bag.

"That is a difficult offer to refuse," I said, "but it's kind of urgent."

"Urgent, huh? He still won't talk. Well, he'll talk, just not what you want him to talk about. I asked him not so long ago about that hammer he used to have but he ended up talking about some Foster person he met. Not that it wasn't a delightful story. Just not the one I was expecting. You know."

"So he's not been good?" I asked and a particularly strong gust of wind brought a spray of seawater with it.

"Do you mind if we take a walk?" He asked, "if we stay here much longer I'll start to erode."

"Of course not." I jumped from my perch.

We walked away from the port and towards the shelter of the looming houses and the twisty streets between them. He lumbered alongside me and loose stones jumped up with each step. He said a few things about Thor, nothing that said anything had changed with him, for better or for worse. But, I suppose, you can't get much worse when you've hit rock bottom. For the most part he spoke about the book.

"It's fascinating," he said in a way no one had ever spoken about a text book before, "I feel like I've learned a whole lot about myself."

"What are you doing?"

We halted in our tracks and looked up to see Valkyrie standing at the top of the street we were on, arms folded as she stared us down. She was an intimidating woman, or would have been if I wasn't me.

"Catching up with a friend," I said, "why, what does it look like?"

"Fine, let me rephrase the question," she said as she unfolded her arms and strode towards us, "why are you here?"

"I'm sorry, am I not allowed to be? Did you close your borders?"

"Funny, you're a funny woman. Also an interfering one."

"Ouch, and I thought we were friends," I said.

"You shouldn't be here if you're going to stir things up for Thor," she said, defiance and defensiveness gleaming in her eyes. Every inch of her playing the warrior she once was.

"I'm not here to stir anything up. In fact I'm trying to smooth it out."

"Really?"

Not one to make things easy for people I greeted her question with silence.

"You better answer her. She's pretty scary. Errr, not that you're not scary, either. You're very scary," Korg said.

I shot him a look and heard Valkyrie laugh.

"There are people who think he's messing with the weather system and they're getting kinda mad about it."

"So you've come to ask him to stop?" Valkyrie said and I could feel the heat of her words.

"I'm not one of those people, they've just asked me to look into it and I intend to prove his innocence." I bit off each word and did my best to keep the annoyance hidden. Though they were justified, I hated it when people assumed I was primed and ready to stab a friend in the back.

"And how do you plan on doing that?"

"Well, one part is already underway. The less you know about it the better."

"Why do you need Thor?"

"Would hardly be doing my job if I wasn't thorough. I don't think he caused the storms in America, but my word isn't enough."

We stood there in the street and as the evening crept up on us as I dug out the answers I wanted. Their memories that could prove he was nothing to do with it, things they knew that they didn't realise they did. And soon enough I had a timeline of what he was doing and the very sad knowledge that with Thor's all-eating and all-drinking days fluttering about him, he had found it harder and harder to access the powers that were such a natural part of himself. Until he just gave up.

15 June 2020

Hi Tom,

I hung around New Asgard for a little longer, on the off chance I might be able to run into Thor.

No such luck.

But I did get a notification from Friday.

She'd finished her job. And it made mine a hell of a lot easier.

The storm was natural.

The news surrounding it, however, was not. It was all fake all the time. On the journey back home I delved into it a bit more and found an anti-Avengers group right at the heart of it, whipping up their own type of storms.