So, Thanks to one fan, you are getting this today also. HOWEVER! be warned. hehehehehehheheehehehe
Ms. Hawkeye: It seems like he really has met the end of his story. but you are correct. if there is anyone that can pull off a return, it is me. Though that may not be the case now. He has had such a great run. I can heartily admit there will be no "Brutasha"
discordchick: Poor Bruce. He's just losing everyone. Who is to know what the Sarhorn meant? The sadness is truly too much to contain.
5mairer: ohhhh, ohh yes.
Fury-Natalia: Do not be concerned! And as to what the baby will be...well...
Chapter 38
The room had an unnatural feeling of cold lifelessness. Despite the fact that nothing had changed, and all the things he kept were still in place, Natasha felt the complete emptiness of Clint's absence like a heavy weight every time she entered the sleeping quarters. Clint may have had little to nothing left in his name since the wall blew out, on that first attack from the Kree technically six years ago, but he still managed to get his clothes tossed all over the place in haphazard, lived in heaps. She didn't have the heart to clean them up. Apparently, neither did any of his other friends.
A knock came to the door jam. She lifted her head to watch as the door slid open and Steve's body blocked out the hall light, for once he'd changed out of his uniform. It wasn't often these days she found him in plainclothes.
"The red white and blues in the washer?" she asked emotionlessly, setting down the photo she hadn't realized she picked up. Pepper had given it to her. A picture of Clint as a young man, sitting on a park bench staring off into the distance at something undetermined.
"I heard you were in the infirmary, are you all right?" he asked.
"News sure travels fast around here."
"Tasha?"
The peculiarity of his tone had her turning toward him quizzically. "What are you doing here Steve?"
"I was worried about you." He took a few steps inside and stood across from her. He seemed as if part of him wanted to take her in his arms, but that rallied against the honorable man within. The result was an awkward standing in the middle of her room.
"Your concern is misplaced. I'm fine." She strode forward and moved to cross around him and head out the door.
Before she could pass, he caught her elbow in his hand. The grip wasn't strong or threatening, but it did make her stop.
"If something was wrong, you'd tell me, right?" he asked.
Yanking her arm out of his she spat into his face, "What would it matter to you?!"
"I don't know, maybe I'm worried about you as a member of this team? Maybe it's because I loved you once and something like that doesn't just disappear overnight?" Before Natasha could find a reason to slam her palm across the side of his face, he quickly added, "You didn't just lose him, Tasha, all of us did. I know you grieve in your own way, but I'm telling you, as a friend, if you need to talk to someone don't think you can't come to me. Clint asked—" Torn, hurt, he paused and forced himself to let go. The captain shuddered, attempting to regain control of himself. Natasha prickled at the sight of him. She'd never seen Steve this affected.
He moved toward the old picture. A small smile forced itself to his face and he lifted the frame up in his hands. "I remember this. We were walking Arrow through Central Park. There was this kid, someone Clint knew. I guess he knew a lot of people. Anyway, the boy was deaf and he brought his dog to the park for Clint to see. The boy wanted to show off all the new tricks he taught his dog. Just like Clint taught Arrow."
Steve looked at the photo a little while longer and slowly returned it to the place on a shelf. "For us, the ones left behind, Clint, Tony, you, the entire Alfheimr realm was missing for five years. We never thought any of you were coming back. I'll admit I lost hope. Clint asked me to take care of you. Look out for you. He thought you might run off, go it alone, try to abandon everyone and heal yourself. He wanted me to make sure you didn't lose yourself." Steve looked back at her. "Look, Nat, I found someone. Someone I think I even love if they'd ever accept it. I am still going to hold up my promise to Clint. That's all I really wanted to say."
Though she wanted to be mad at him over his blatant attempt at trying to get into her head, a temporary wave of uncharacteristic forgiveness, and dare say jealousy, came over her. Who had possibly stolen the heart of Captain America himself? It was better for everyone that he had, but that never interfered with his gentleman's mindset. Once he gave his word, he kept it. Everyone knew that.
Full of new thoughts, too confused to stay in his presence any longer, Natasha turned on her heel and stalked out of the room, leaving Steve to his own grief surrounded by abandoned clothing, arrows, and Clint's other treasures.
:(:):(:):
The halls of the Gateway were built like the bulkheads of a navy sub, low, close hallways lead throughout the ship to various larger corridors, open assembly rooms, or smaller quarters. Most of the crew cabin comprised the starboard half of the ship and extended upward from the cargo and docking bay for three floors. Natasha's room was on the uppermost floor, just below where the cockpit and mission briefing room took up the entire first level. She dropped down the staircase one level and rapped her knuckles on Tony's door. When no one answered, she tried the lock. It was engaged, typically a sign that Stark wasn't to be found inside.
She glanced around, trying to decide where he would head next if he wasn't to be found in his room. Picking the map room, she took another flight of stairs downward, crossed the middle of the ship's interior and headed for the bow. She ducked through two doorways before arriving at the bulkhead that lead to the map room. This time she forewent the cordiality of knocking and walked right inside.
"Private party. Get out!" Tony shouted the minute she entered.
"What, I'm not invited?"
"Not unless you plan on lecturing me on sobriety. I mean, not lecturing me, whatever."
He was sitting behind a steel table which had been bolted to the floor to prevent its moving about during rough skies. The touch-sensitive screens around them were dancing in the glow of a thousand stars, half a dozen galaxies, and a billion worlds, their labels swung randomly with the spin of the worlds' axis. Tony basked in their purple, red, black, and white hues, framed by a background of an expanded Milkyway. He was drinking, unsurprisingly. He'd virtually given up the stuff. It wasn't hard to imagine that a loss the weight of Clint's would drive him back into a bottle.
"Someone we know wouldn't be happy about this," she said, sitting across from him.
"Barton's dead. And he wouldn't be surprised. Drink up. I'm only an alcoholic if I'm drinking alone. I have a brand new liver to destroy and fifteen extra years on my life to do it." Tony poured himself another tall glass of Bourbon and slid it across the table to her. He kept the bottle on the bench seat beside him and out of her reach.
"Pretty sure that's not how redemption works." She took the glass and raised it to her lips. All at once, she realized her mistake and hurriedly dropped it back to the table before tasting it. Babies and booze did not mix. This was going to be harder than she thought.
"Sorry it's not vodka. It's hard to fabricate the taste and alcohol content from the sparse items I have at my disposal in the infirmary."
"Well this can't be tolerated," she replied, pushing the glass away.
Tony sighed, retrieving it for himself and taking another long drink. "So what's new with you? Come to share in my misery? Or plan T'Challa's future funeral? Maybe I should consider poisoning Thor or jettisoning him into outer space. I hear Galaxy Red is beautiful this time of year."
Natasha leaned her chin on her palm. She didn't miss that fact that Tony's calculations on just such an intergalactic ejection swirled to their right over. Beside his plans were the remnants of the shattered Galaxy Red. If either of the targets in his crosshairs happened to appear now, she had no doubt in her mind he would do exactly as he stated. It was a good thing both were sent to a separate ship bound for Earth.
"I know you think you mean that, but try to remain somewhat rational."
Unexpectedly, Tony lifted the glass and threw it across the room, narrowly avoiding the side of her face. The splash back of the exploding shards hit her shirt. Three of the black glass screens shattered.
"Rational?!" He screamed. "We knew it was coming! He wasn't supposed to be anywhere near it! T'Challa's the one who put all that weight on the 20 predictions of the Sarhorn and he's screwed us all on that! It's not like this was some surprise. It's not like we had no idea. Cap should have been there instead of Clint. T'Challa should have done his job and stayed the hell by him! What was Pym even thinking? You know what, we'll never know 'cause the guy's ship exploded in orbit! Every single plan blew up in our faces. Don't even get me the Hell started on Peter Quill." He picked up his fist and slammed it into Galaxy Red. "For once I help make a plan and I stuck to it. I held up my end because I thought that there were people I could rely on to hold up there's. I was wrong. Does that make you happy to hear it? I was wrong!"
Tony's fist split open under the fury of his second punch. Apparently it wasn't the first time he'd done it. His left hand was already bleeding similar to his right. She wondered how long he'd been sitting in here alone, with nothing but his thoughts and calculations to comfort him. Then again, comfort wasn't exactly the right word. Given much more time to stew alone, the genius was likely to finish his descent into a total nervous breakdown.
"You aren't allowed to freak out if I'm not allowed too. That isn't fair, Tony, and if you don't stop it I might just smack the ever living—" Natasha had to bite her own tongue to prevent finishing her statement. She surprised herself in avoiding the taste of blood, given how hard she chomped.
The rare display gave Tony some pause. "I think that's the meanest thing you've ever said to me."
"I've said much worse things to you. Just not lately. Now will you please shut up and stop drinking because I have something very important to tell you."
Tony leaned forward to listen but took another defiant drink from his glass.
"You're going to be a father."
um...what?
WHAT?
you heard it right. well, they were together on Rinon's ship? could this mean something? Is there a secret romance, or have I developed a red herring? WHO HAS STEVE"S HEART? NOW you must wait until next time to know more!