Last night, Loki had seen more of this little island than he'd ever seen before. After storming out of the Avengers Tower, Max's words ringing in his ears, he stalked the entire length of Manhattan, Thor in tow, until he'd run out of room to walk. He just couldn't be around her in the aftermath of their conversation. He couldn't look at her—and he couldn't look at himself.

Pregnant. Her news was the one he'd been least expecting, and it wasn't until his brain took a few minutes to process everything that he realized it was the outcome that had made him the happiest. When he said he'd never really given children any consideration before, he meant it. He'd been wandering far from home for so long, uprooted and ungrounded, that the very idea of a family seemed laughable to him. Before that, his quest for Asgard's throne had consumed him. Naturally, an heir would have been the next step after securing his position, but seeing as he was king for less than a few days—if that—while Thor was banished, a wife and child hadn't even crossed his mind.

But when Max had told him that she was with child—his child, no less—early the previous evening, it all seemed to make sense. Of course they would become a family. He had grand visions of her with him in Asgard, and now there was another person that no one could take from him. His child would belong to him and him alone. Its loyalty would not be to Odin or Thor or anyone else: the child would be Loki's, and he would have a chance to prove to everyone that he was capable of more in this life. He could be more than the scholar, the thinker, the liar. He could be a father—a better one than he had.

And then she had stomped on all of his dreams by not only telling him that she was getting rid of the child permanently, but also that she had no interest in following him to Asgard. Her unwavering stance tugged at his temper more than he liked, and he had realized in that moment what a fool he had been. Why would she follow him anywhere? Even if she did claim to love him, why would she—or anyone—give up their whole life to follow him anywhere? What was Loki to her? A convenient lover and protector? A temporary affair until she found the man she actually wanted to have children with?

It hurt his pride more than he was willing to admit. He'd been a fool to covet her. He'd been a fool to picture a happy future. He'd been a fool to love her.

So, rather than taking out his anger on any person or thing in the tower, Loki had walked. He'd pushed through crowds on the busy Manhattan streets and paid no attention to traffic signals. Everything had been a blur, a sea of red when his rage boiled, and darkness with the sadness tried to creep in. And all the while, Thor had followed behind him, a silent lumbering presence that made him feel nothing. At the time, he couldn't speak to the man—he couldn't speak to anyone.

Once they had traversed the island from top to bottom, the sun was starting to poke through the clouds. Morning descended, and Loki and Thor returned to the Avengers Tower. However, instead of drifting back to the room he shared with Max, Loki had pushed ahead to Thor's room, and there he stayed. Sometime later, he heard Max's footfalls in the foyer, the elevator bell tolling its arrival. He'd wanted to approach her, but he feared he'd grovel in front of her—and that was something he couldn't do. Once, he would have knelt for her willingly, but with such a gaping wound in his heart, he steeled himself to the idea.

Jane and Darcy had gone about their morning routine, neither addressing Loki as they dressed and departed for breakfast. He stayed on a chair near the window, watching the city come to life beneath the rising sun. Thor too remained in the room, and while he ate the plate of food Jane brought back for him, Loki left his untouched.

Time passed slowly that morning. He'd heard Max return from her meal at one point, and he resisted the urge to ask either of Thor's women about her demeanor that morning. Darcy disappeared sometime around midday, insisting that she and Johnny would be gone for the rest of the afternoon. That left Thor, Jane, and Loki in the expansive suite, Loki facing the window, Jane reading on a small sofa, and Thor watching the television box on a low volume.

"She's carrying my child." He finally broke his silence when he felt he could speak without his voice trembling. Turning the thick chair around, the legs scraping the floor, he faced Thor with a sigh. The man turned off the television. "And she doesn't want to. She's going to kill it."

Jane looked up slowly from her book, her eyes darting between the two men, and then resumed reading. Thor's eyebrows shot up and his jaw fell open a little, but he quickly regained himself, setting the remote on the little coffee table in front of him. Loki waited for the man's opinion on the matter, but when Thor said nothing, he carried on, anger seeping back into his voice.

"How can she… kill our…" Gritting his teeth, he clenched and unclenched his fists. "I even offered her care of Asgardian healers, and still she refuses to see reason."

"I'm sorry, brother," Thor said after a long pause. "But—"

"Not only does she see no point in keeping our child, but she won't even entertain the idea of coming back to Asgard with me." That was what he was most frustrated with. The loss of a potential son or daughter was devastating enough, but the fact that she wouldn't leave this sad little realm behind for something bigger and better tore right through him. Asgard was better than Midgard by far—she just couldn't see that yet.

Perhaps he would have to make her see that his alternative was better.

"Loki, you know father wouldn't allow her to remain in Asgard." Thor shook his head when Loki's eyes darted up to him. "A short trip, yes… A visit, maybe. You know he forbids humans living there permanently."

"I would find a way around his orders," Loki snapped, rolling his eyes. "I always have before."

"And that has worked so finely for you in the past, has it?"

"Thor, she's carrying my child." His voice shook a little as he leaned back in the chair. "Mine. I could be a father, and she won't listen to reason."

"Why does she wish to rid herself of it?"

He had hoped Thor might have taken a more compassionate stance. The oaf was always quick to jump to emotional reactions before, and yet now it seemed like he was holding a normal conversation about a mundane topic.

"Her healer told her she could die." He licked his lips. The very idea of her death at the hands of witless healers on Earth made his chest tight—this was why she needed to come to Asgard with him. Thor's eyebrows shot up at the omission. "Hence why I suggested she come with me."

"Well… that seems reasonable enough." Thor crossed his leg over his knee, arms outstretched along the back of his couch. "She would probably be quite safe on Asgard if that is her only fear."

Relief washed over him, and the corners of his lips twitched up. "Precisely!"

"I'm sure Mother would see that she received the utmost care," his brother continued, nodding along with each sentiment. "Our healers have treated far greater injuries. Her body may not be able to withstand such a tremendous burden without their care."

"Yes, yes, exactly." Loki huffed. "If only I could take her to Asgard so that she could see the care she'd receive… then she wouldn't need to make such a rash, foolish decision as to kill the child."

Thor's forehead crinkled when he frowned. "Perhaps it is best to tackle one issue at a time. You should speak with her about the child, and perhaps omit the move to Asgard until a decision has been made."

"They are intertwined," he said snippily. "One decision affects the other. She… She loves me. I cannot stay here for an eternity. She's with my child and needs Asgard's healers. I wish to return to make a home for myself. I see no reason why she would hesitate on the matter."

"You can't?" The man's eyebrows shot up, a soft smile on his lips. "Loki, you're asking her to give up her life. Has she asked you to stay on Earth?"

He shook his head with a scoff. "No."

"Then you must be fair with your demands."

"I am perfectly fair," he hissed. At the back of his mind, little protests started to wriggle their way through, but he ignored them. "She is the one being unreasonable about every decision. She's been selfish… even cruel about these matters—"

"Oh my god," Jane said noisily, slamming her body shut and sitting up on the couch. "I can't listen to this anymore."

Loki arched an eyebrow at her. If he was being honest, he'd almost forgotten the little woman was even there.

"Jane—"

"No," she snapped as she held up a finger to silence Thor. "No, this is ridiculous." She rounded to face Loki. "You are being ridiculous. First of all, this isn't Ancient Greece where hapless mortal women are forced to carry your demi-god spawn and then send them off to fight monsters. It's a tough pill to swallow, I get it, but maybe you should be having this discussion with her, not him, because he's just going to try to look for ways to make you feel better."

Thor spoke up quickly, perhaps sensing Loki's patience with the woman was already coming to a quick end. "Now, Jane, that's not entirely true—"

"Second of all…" Loki's hackles were up as she pressed on, but he noticed there was a slight tremor in her hand as she spoke. "Assuming someone will drop everything in their life and move for you on a whim is selfish. You're both being selfish. People make their family when they are ready to do so. If I somehow got pregnant, you know what, I'd probably do the same thing as she's doing." She glanced at Thor over her shoulder. "He knows I don't want kids, and if there's a mistake, then I'll handle it."

Loki opened his mouth to protest, but she spoke over him in a voice that belied her tiny physical stature.

"Third and final thing," she said, ticking it off on her fingers. "If you got her pregnant once, I'm sure you can do it again. Her brother died a few months ago. She just found another friend died recently. Our whole world is still turned around, and you think she's being unreasonable and selfish toward you? I can't… I can't even handle this conversation. I can't."

"Well, it's a good thing no one is asking you to participate in it," Loki hissed dangerously. Thor shifted in place, taking a breath to speak, but Jane was already stalking toward the door, book in hand.

He was still right. No matter what Thor's woman ranted about, Loki was still right in the end. Even if Max hadn't done all of this to deliberately hurt him, he couldn't help but feel that way. There was no grey area to behold, no discussions to be had. Her selfishness surprised him, and as he turned his chair back around to face the window, he found this new side of her left a bad taste in his mouth.

But he still swallowed it down. Despite everything, despite what she was putting him through, Loki still loved her.

He was still the fool he was yesterday, and he suspected he'd continue to be a fool tomorrow.

"I can fold the underwear…"

Max's cheeks flushed as she pushed a two piles of underwear toward the end of the bed, unsure of which pair belonged to which member of Sue's family. She'd sorted the darks and lights as per Sue's request, and had been doing that for the last fifteen minutes. It wasn't until now that she realized she'd been organizing underwear—clean underwear, yes, but underwear all the same.

"Yeah," she said with a nod. She then pulled the hair tie off her wrist and dragged her hair into a bun. Apparently, Sue disliked how high the air conditioning ran at the Avengers Tower, and for some ungodly reason thought to turn it down for most of the day. Neck caked in sweat, Max was desperate to get her hair up and away. "That's probably a good idea."

After spending the night alone, Loki nowhere to be found, Sue felt like the most logical person for her to take her problems to. She wasn't ready to go home to Pat; there was still more to be accomplished here. However, her mood was too touch and go for her to have meals with the rest of the tower. So, after grabbing a bowl of cereal and eating up in her room, Max called Doctor Fisher that morning to schedule her termination appointment for the following week. Afterward, she puked up her cereal and moped on the bathroom floor for a little while.

Jane had been shockingly good to her last night after the whole ordeal happened. In Loki's absence, the woman had appeared out of nowhere. She had picked Max up—well, she had helped her get to her feet, anyway—and set her on her bed, then ran a cloth under some cold water and set it on the back of Max's neck. And then they had sat there while Max tried not to hyperventilate. Then, when the dust had finally settled and it was clear Loki wasn't coming back anytime soon, Max had hesitantly spilled her secret to the woman who'd saved her life once before.

Jane didn't have much to say on the issue, but she provided a sympathetic ear to mumble into until Max had felt like she could be calm again. Once the crying stopped, a tightness had settled in her chest, and she had yet to shake it, even when she sought out Sue.

Unfortunately, Sue wouldn't be around much longer for her to vent her problems to. When Max wandered down to the woman's floor, she was shocked to find cardboard boxes everywhere. The whole gang was on their way out, and had found a few floors to rent out near their old building. The news hurt her more than she was willing to admit, and as she settled down amidst the laundry and toys, Sue pressed for the root cause of her problems.

And to Sue she admitted the horrible truth. Once the news was out in the open, Sue had studied her for a moment with a keen eye, and then returned to folding and packing and taping things up. Funnily enough, it was easier to tell other people now that Loki knew, but she wished she was talking to him now, no matter how much Sue's presence soothed her.

"So…" Sue straightened up, cracking her back noisily as she stretched. Tendrils of blonde hair spilled over her face, and she brushed them away, annoyed at their presence. "Why did you wait so long to spill the beans to him?"

Max's eyebrows shot up as she folded a pair of socks together. "Spill the beans?"

"Sorry, I've been watching kids programs with Valeria for two days," the woman admitted with a heavy sigh. "Sometimes she needs a break from documentaries."

"Sounds like fun."

"If I see one more puppet chuckle dumbly at the camera while teaching a life lesson, I'm cancelling our cable…"

Every so often, Sue's eyes wandered down to Max's abdomen, but for some reason, it didn't bother her like it should. But the question she posed was a difficult one to find just one answer to, and Max exhaled deeply, grabbing another two socks that looked like they belonged together.

"Well?" Sue arched an eyebrow at her, casually folding a pair of briefs and setting it down on the end of the bed. Max tried not to figure out who they belonged to, but Johnny always struck her as the kind of guy to go commando. "Why did you wait?"

"I don't know." Licking her lips, she tossed the folded bundle into the slowly growing pile beside her. How did one family have so many socks? Ben Grimm barely wore shoes. "I was scared… confused."

"Do you think he might have been able to help with that?"

Max shrugged. "Probably. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, I guess."

Maybe he could have helped, but he also could have hindered. Even with his pleas for her to look for alternative solutions, Loki only seemed to have one thought in mind: move to Asgard and have the baby. He was dealing in absolutes just as much as she was. Max frowned at the thought.

"That's the way it always is, I'm afraid." Sue lifted another hamper onto the bed full of unfolded clothes. "Everyone feels like they could have done something different, maybe better… You won't know until the decision's made."

She thought back to the relief in her doctor's voice when she called to make the appointment that morning. "Yeah."

But how was anyone supposed to know what the right decision was?

"So you've made up your mind about it?"

Max threw up her hands with a groan, then let them land limply on her lap. "I… guess it's settled. I wish Loki would come out of his cave to talk to me, but… I made my appointment with my doctor for next week."

"Hmm."

"I'm not ready to be a mom." Hearing the words out loud for the first time, her cheeks flushed. Whenever she talked about her options before, she'd always looked at the logistics of this whole ordeal. She'd tried to leave emotion out of it as much as she could manage, hoping that facts and figures wouldn't cloud her vision. But in her heart of hearts, she knew she wasn't ready.

"Max—"

"I can't do it right now. I just can't." She huffed when she realized she'd just folded two socks together that clearly weren't a pair. "I mean, I still live with a roommate… I usually eat cold leftover pizza for breakfast every Sunday morning because we were out the night before. Yes, I like spending time with Franklin and Valeria—"

Sue scoffed. "Just because you're good with someone else's kid doesn't mean you're ready to be a parent."

"Yeah, I know."

"It's hard," Sue continued, tossing a pink thong into a pile of what Max hoped were Sue's undergarments. "Being a parent is one of the hardest things you'll ever do. I don't regret either of my kids, but it changed my life. I can never go back to who I was before, and sometimes I miss it. I love those two more than anything in this world, but it's not for everyone."

"I want kids though," Max said in a small voice.

"And I'm sure you'll have them." Sue finally cleared the neatly folded piles of underwear off the bed, and Max tried to move at her pace. "But if you're not a hundred percent, why put that on your child? They deserve a parent who is all in from the beginning. Or… at least a parent who will get on board sometime. Do you see that happening?"

She paused as Max shook her head, Sue's hands on her narrow hips. Somewhere down the hall, Valeria shrieked with laughter, which was followed by a thud and a groan from Reed, then Franklin's impish chuckle. Sue smirked and rolled her eyes.

"Reed's too flexible for roughhousing, but he tries." Max grabbed a few t-shirts and started folding them, and Sue cleared her throat. "Anyway, that's just my opinion. I'm sure you'll get all kinds of them when people hear about your decision, but I wouldn't put too much stock into them."

"No, I appreciate your input," she said quickly. "I really do."

She didn't need someone justifying her decision for her—she could find a million reasons to do that on her own. She could also find a few reasons against her choice, the ones that really pulled at her heartstrings. Loki's broken expression seemed permanently burned onto the back of her mind.

"He's really hurt." Max set her folded shirts near the edge of the bed, and then tried not to roll her eyes when Sue redid them and placed them in a box. "I've never seen him like that before."

Sue pursed her lips for a moment, as though choosing her words carefully. "It's not exactly an easy conversation to have. You couldn't have expect him to nod and smile and offer to drive you to the clinic."

"That's just it," she sighed, leaning back on the plush queen-sized bed and propping herself up on her elbows. "This isn't something we've ever talked about in any detail. I mean, technically we haven't even officially dated a year yet… We've maybe known each other just shy of a year, actually."

"I'm sorry, Max."

Fumbling over her next t-shirt, she looked up at the woman with an arched eyebrow. "Why?"

"I'm sorry that you went through this." Sue settled on the edge of the bed, one leg tucked beneath her. "It's not an easy decision to make."

Her eyes stung at the words, watering a little—and here she thought there was nothing left.

"Can you come with me?" She had hoped Loki might come with her for the appointment, but there was no way of knowing for certain. Even if she was set on keeping the procedure, it bolstered her courage at the idea of having someone go with her. "I know you're moving and everything—"

"Of course I'll come with you." Sue took her hand and grasped it tightly for a moment, then set it back in her lap. "I told you before… Anytime you need something, I'm there."

They exchanged smiles, Max's weaker than Sue's, and continued folding and sorting clothing until the majority of it was packed away. Since all of her belongings were lost in the tower, Sue had been on numerous shopping sprees to replenish their wardrobe supplies, among other things.

"Do you really have to leave so soon?" Max knew there was no getting around it. After all, she should get home to Pat sometime, but she wanted Loki there with her. Sue piled a box on top of a small stack, counting them silently before nodding.

"We don't want to overstay our welcome," she mused. "Osborn never gives anything away for free. You'd do well to remember that."

"Oh, I think I got that message loud and clear," Max muttered, barely concealing her shudder at the memory of her one and only encounter with the man. "Well, I'll definitely be visiting. I can help you with the move, too."

"Maybe you can wrangle the kids on the day. They hate moving days." Inching off the bed, Max straightened and set her hands on her lower back, trying to relieve some of the pain. Her stomach grumbled noisily, and a quick glance at the clock told her that it'd be an acceptable time to grab some lunch. After all, it wasn't like her breakfast stayed down.

"Anything you want."

She spent a couple extra minutes moving some boxes, but was shooed out when she tried to grapple with some of the heavier items. Pausing briefly, she watched Reed wrestle with his kids in the next room, the trio oblivious to her presence in the doorway. It was nice to see him do normal dad stuff—he'd been less than present during the invasion. Not that she could blame him for it, what with him finding a way to save the day and everything, but Franklin and Valeria really needed their dad. Hopefully he would take the time to interact a little more now.

But who was she to judge someone else's parenting?

Pushing herself off the doorframe, she strolled down to the elevator and pressed the button. When the doors peeled back, her stomach lurched when she saw someone else inside. Everything in her hoped it might be Loki, but instead she found herself staring at Tony Stark in a red dressing robe. He stepped to the side as she sidled in, and as she pushed the button to the floor with the kitchen, he cleared his throat.

Awkward. It was awkward to say the least. He hadn't even acknowledged her since their run-in at the pool, and when he reached for the stop button, alarms went off in Max's head. He then pulled out a little device and clicked it, which made the lights disappear and the elevator drop a couple of inches. Max grabbed the railing for support, her heart racing.

"So." He rounded back to face her. "Pregnant."

Her mouth went dry. "What?"

"You." Stark pointed arbitrarily at her midsection. "Pregnant."

"I… What…" Max let out a shaky breath. "It's none of your business."

"You're…" He paused, making a clicking noise with his mouth, and then licked his lips. "Planning on getting rid of it in a week."

"How the fuck—"

"You want to do it tomorrow?"

Her heart skipped a beat at the question. "Excuse me?"

"I have some pull at… at a hospital," he told her as he took a step closer. For once, he didn't reek of rancid liquor. "They owe me several thousand favours. I can get you in tomorrow. I think you should, if you're going to do it anyway, do it sooner rather than later."

"Why?"

"I don't think you really want to know." She glanced at the doors nervously. "I know I don't have any pull here, but you should trust me. Do it tomorrow."

"Why?"

"You think I'm going to explain the inner workings of Osborn-led S.H.I.E.L.D. espionage in my own bugged tower," he rambled, checking his watch. "You've got thirty seconds until everything turns on again, kid. You want it tomorrow or not?"

She stammered over her words, incoherent and flushed, until she finally nodded, her eyes also on his wristwatch. "Yes, sure… I… I guess if—"

The lights flickered back on suddenly, and he held a finger to his lips.

"Banner made a casserole last night," he said, pressing the emergency stop button once more. The elevator glided down smoothly, and Max watched him with her mouth hanging open. "It's pretty good. I picked out the onions. Here we go."

She struggled to get her legs moving when the doors whizzed open, and as she whirled around to give him one last confused (horrified, mortified, among other –ified emotions) look, he smiled in a way that looked less than genuine.

Maybe even a little sad.

"See you tomorrow, kiddo."

And with that, the doors hissed shut, leaving her alone again with nothing but her jumbled thoughts for company.

Natasha was sick of the heat. She'd endured it for almost two years in various countries across the Asian continent, moving around to help with the war effort, and now here she was again, standing in Nairobi in July, hot as all hell. Still, her disguises held up well, and after being able to grab a new passport from an old contact in London, one that wouldn't be registered on S.H.I. .'s databases, she was able to travel with relative ease on commercial flights. She started down in Durban, pulling a few loyal informants from the headquarters there to ask about Clint—and that led her on a wild goose chase for a few weeks, hitting up rural and urban areas in South Africa, Tanzania, Ethiopia, and now finally Kenya.

Clint was off the grid. Alive, from all she could gather, but definitely off the grid. The last few contacts she went through were as far from S.H.I. . personnel as she could get—not that she was complaining. It had been a while since she did anything that didn't involve agents and suits and politicians, and she actually liked working her way through the underbelly of society again. This kind of work grounded, gave her focus.

And it led her, supposedly, to Clint's apartment. Hands on her hips, her brown hair tucked beneath a scarf, she wore a pair of loose cotton trousers and a black t-shirt, detracting from her curves to avoid wandering eyes at this time of night. With a gun strapped to her beneath the shirt and a knife on her shin, she had little to fear in the rundown districts of the busy Kenyan capital. Her S.H.I. . tail lost her in South Africa, and that was where she planned to keep him.

Inhaling the thick, humid air, Natasha leaned back to survey to extent of the small apartment complex. It might have been white once, but it was now a grimy beige with concrete balconies covered in laundry. Clint was, apparently, on the fifth floor, two apartments in from the left. The neighbourhood was relatively quiet at this hour, but it didn't surprise her to hear tires screeching elsewhere, sometimes accompanied by shrieks in the darkness. There was a double set of doors leading in to the interior of the building, which meant someone would have to buzz her in or open the door for her, and she didn't want anyone getting a good look at her face.

And if Clint was off the radar, he wouldn't just answer the door for anyone. Besides, she wore the right shoes to scale the side of the building—that seemed like more fun, anyway. Pulling a pair of extra-grip gloves from her pocket, she began her ascent, using balconies as stepping stones and core strength to carry her up. When she finally arrived at Clint's balcony, as evidenced by his favourite package of cigarettes and beer strewn on the dilapidated patio furniture, she slunk over the side and paused to take a breath.

Smirking at the mess, she moved to the sliding glass door, eyes narrowed as she peered into the dark apartment. Basic furniture as far as the eye could see pointed toward a small television, and with the light on over the stove, she could see some semblance of a kitchen further in. Much to her surprise, the door was open. Rolling her eyes, she opened it just enough to allow for her to slip inside, and then gently shut it behind her.

Everything smelled like Clint. Her stomach fluttered as she inhaled his woodsy aftershave—and spotted an open bottle of it on the coffee table. None of the clothes scattered around looked familiar, but when she spied his computer set-up on the dining table, she knew for certain she had found the right place.

As she recalled, Clint had crept through her window one night a few years back to surprise her. She hadn't been surprised, of course, but she thought now would be a good time to return the favour.

Unfortunately, once she worked her way through the maze that was this tiny apartment, she found his bed empty. The sheets were in disarray in true Clint fashion, and she lifted them up to check under the bed—it was habit. Shaking her head, her eyes wandered the dark bedroom: minimalism and mess carried through from the rest of the apartment. After assessing the state of things, she tossed the duvet back on the mattress, unsure why he would need it in this heat.

The tiny closet, pathetically small with its sliding doors, would probably be the ideal place to hide if she wanted to surprise him. She strolled toward it, but as soon as she pushed open one of the doors, a body launched out at her. He shouted, a war cry ferocious enough to scare the casual intruder, but Natasha took it in stride, flipping that familiar figure over and pinning him to the thin carpet.

"Nat?" Clint's eyebrows shot up as he surveyed her, both of them breathing heavily. "Holy shit."

"You should really lock your patio door," she told him, smirking. "Anyone can just wander in."

He let out a breathy laugh, his head falling back to the questionable carpet below. "Good to see you too."

"Yeah, way to keep in contact." She pinched his nipple, visible through the thin white t-shirt, and twisted. His face screwed in pain, but when he tried to buck her off, she tightened her thighs around him. "I thought you might be dead."

"Well, that was kind of the point."

His voice was strangely soothing to her ears, all throaty and raspy and tired. She couldn't blame him for not keeping in touch—she only communicated with the rest of the Avengers out of necessity, and occasionally for support. When she was working in dangerous territory, stopping for a gossip session wasn't exactly high on her list of priorities.

Clint sat up quickly, his breath on her skin as he tugged the scarf off her head. He frowned.

"I hate your hair."

"It's a necessary evil," she told him, flicking the brown mass over her shoulders. "I did it myself."

"It looks like shit."

"You look like shit."

He didn't—not really. He was a little thinner than she remembered, and there were more scars on his arms and sores on his hands than she'd seen before, but he still looked like Clint Barton to her.

Tucking her hair behind her ear, Clint cocked his head to the side. "Missed you."

"War made you soft."

Her words made him smile. His kiss made her tingle. Skin to skin, lips to lips, Natasha let every other sense tell him that she might have missed him too—maybe. They wound up in a tangled mess on his lumpy mattress, both of them sprawled out against the headboard, their clothes forgotten relics in the heat.

"I really need a window in here," Clint mused, his arm crooked lazily behind his head.

"I thought a bedroom legally required one."

He chuckled at the thought, grabbing a cigarette out of the pack as Natasha fished one out for herself. They both lit up and settled back together, their combined plumes of smoke swirling through the room.

"So why are you on the run?" She flicked some ash onto his nightstand, not caring that it would ruin the furniture. "Something happen down here?"

Quiet for a moment, Clint sat up a little straight, his shoulders slumped. "You know Fury's dead, right?"

"Actually dead?" She sucked on her cigarette, mind racing. "I thought—"

"Actually dead." Clint shook his head. "He was down here fighting with us, and the suit he was wearing malfunctioned… Blew him half to hell in a few seconds."

She cursed in Russian, leaning her head back against the wooden board behind her, and then rolled her eyes when Clint's cock twitched. He was a sucker for Russian.

"Thing is," he continued, tapping his ash onto the carpet, "is that it was Osborn machinery… New breed of fighting machine. He tried to emulate Stark's designs, and Fury wanted to try it on the aliens. It was defective… We should have known it wouldn't work before he fired his first shot."

The news left an empty feeling in her gut. Sure, she already knew that Fury was "dead", but she'd just assumed he was hiding out somewhere undercover. But now that someone—multiple someones—had seen him go, there was no turning back.

The world had just become a much darker place.

"Osborn's people wanted to keep a tight lid on the cause of death," he told her. "Wanted to chalk it up to his age, say it was a heart condition… None of my guys were okay with that, and neither was I."

"And?"

"One by one they pulled my team out." Clint sighed, rubbing his eyes. "They'd leave our base and never come back, and when Osborn announced he was head of S.H.I.E.L.D., I just took off. I'm not working for that asshole."

She raised her cigarette as a toast, grinning a little. "Cheers to that."

They clinked the smouldering ends together and took a drag as Natasha's world started to crash in on her. No more Nick Fury. This new age of spy-work was going to be dirty.

"I was going to jump ship in a week," he said suddenly. "Head over to Madagascar… See the sights. Pet a lemur." She arched an eyebrow. "Want to come?"

Finishing her cigarette, she flicked the bud onto the nightstand and nodded, her smile a little less bright now. "Always."

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

I found everyone's different views on this situation to be really interesting. Even if you think you're coming across as mean, I still like reading your opinions. I sometimes feel in fics that people don't grasp what a tremendously huge decision having a baby is, and when I see a single chapter dedicated to it like it's no big deal, I sort of just shake my head. I don't know. Maybe I'm just ranting on for too long about it.

This whole pregnancy arc is coming to a close soon (like.. real soon), and from there we'll move on to the third act of this story. For those of you who are curious, there are sixteen (!) chapters left, including an epilogue that will give pretty substantial details away at what the next story is going to be about. I'm sure I've announced it at some point, but the title of the next story is going to be The Long Winter, so you can speculate for yourself at what the story will be about!

I know this chapter is supposed to focus on Max and Loki, but I was especially happy with Natasha's section, and Tony's participation is going to become clear in the next chapter in a scene I'm super excited to write.

I've had a lot of lovely people here tell me they are pumped for my book release, and I'm super pumped too! I'll be opening an author's website this month (I'm aiming for the 20th), and I'll be posting snippets of the book on the blog, as well as running a promotions page for other creative types. So. If you want something advertised (a portfolio, writer's website, 8tracks account with baller soundtracks, etc.), you can hit me up. I'm going to promo people for a month on my website, so I'll be creeping around for August promos soon.

Since the book I'm publishing in August is for you guys, for free, as a thank you and a yeaaay intro to the world of authoring, I figured I'd ask about promos here first.

Anyway. Back on my usual writing schedule, so I'll see you guys next week!