The next time Jamie opens his eyes, his mother is standing at the end of the bed.

Her dark hair has streaks of silver, and is shorter than he's ever seen it. She is wearing a pair of light trousers and a blue fuzzy sweater. She smiles at him the way she did the last time he saw her. He was itchy. She had over starched his dress uniform. She smelled like yeast, cinnamon, and apples. She had refused to hug him- she didn't want to get any flour on him. Her warm, dark eyes were glossy with tears.

"Ma?" Jamie asks.

She makes a strangled sound and a couple of tears slip down her cheeks.

"You look just like James." She says quietly "I didn't think you would look so much like him."

"Thank you for coming, Ruth. Have a seat." Nat has appeared quietly at his mother's side, and guides her into a chair.

Clint is leaning against the back wall, near the door. He watches with stony silence.

Nat sits on the other side of his bed. She places a hand near his leg, careful not to touch him. "Jamie, we have run some tests and you are doing very well, physically. We think it would be best for your recovery if you were moved out of the facility." She gestures to his mother, who gives him that watery smile again. "Ruth has agreed to let you come home with her. She lives in the Fordham area. She has a spare room and would like you to come stay with her for a while."

"Her name is Winifred," He says firmly "Quit calling my ma Ruth."

Clint makes a noise that sounds like being strangled in the dark.

Jamie shoots him a worried look.

Clint is unharmed.

He looks back at his mother, who has started to cry in earnest.

"It's okay, Ma. Is Becca here with you? I'll go get her. Don't cry Ma."

He tries to get out of bed.

Clint rushes to hold him down.

Clint flies across the room, cracking the observation window.

Clint struggles to his feet. "This is a bad idea, Natasha! He isn't ready for this! We aren't ready for this! You're being ridiculous! This isn't how you do it, Nat. Did I make you live in a ballet studio above a borscht shop?! NO! That is crazy. This is crazy. This woman just lost her son. Three months ago, Nat. Three. And now you think the best option for everyone is to move an extremely unwell man, who happens to be her uncle, into her dead son's bedroom. In what world is this a good plan, Nat?!-"

Clint's tirade is interrupted by Ruth putting her arms around Jamie's shoulders and squeezing him to her tightly.

"He is coming home with me. End of Discussion." She gave Jamie a fierce kiss on the forehead.

"Call me Ruthie, sweetheart." She whispers.

Clint gives Nat a hard look, and walks out of the room. Nat trails after him, talking in a soft voice about Clint's broken wrist.

Ruthie tells him to go to sleep.

He closes his eyes.

She hums something that sounds like home.