New chapter! WHOOT!

khaitosfren: totally had to look up the meaning of Elegiac. I feel so honored:)

Ms. Hawkeye: poor Barton. So much going on without him!

discordchick: daw! the sadness will get worse. no end in sight.

Chapter 41

Natasha Romanov slipped out of her room early one morning, nearly two weeks after returning to the Tower which served as her home for so many years. She wanted a sense of normalcy, despite the obvious, major change about to occur in a few months time. According to the two scans she allowed Bruce to do, her baby reached somewhere between the late first and early second trimester. For simplicity sake she gave herself the timeframe of thirteen weeks.

For the most part, her life involved sleep. Sixteen to eighteen hours of every day she could hardly anticipate getting more than five feet out of bed before the comfortable sheets called her back, and in she dove. When she wasn't sleeping, she was vomiting or eating. Or too sick to eat, so she lay in bed, nauseous and disgruntled. For someone who spent less than five hours ill in her entire life, vomiting in general became the most horrifying experience she'd ever suffered through (right under the knowledge that a little human would come ripping out of her body). Unable to leave bed, she spent her time doing research. This was a mission after all and with less than thirty weeks before she had to face that inevitable end, Natasha set out to understand as much as she had to about the changes coming.

Satisfyingly terrified over what she learned, and desperate to get out of her room, Natasha went to the one place she knew might afford an opportunity to be alone. The gym. Steve had left earlier in the day for a conference in D.C. She listened to his goodbye for almost half an hour, then further overheard his instruction over Natasha's meal plan. It should bother her the care he was taking. Natasha desperately wondered why she had yet to slap him in the face, order him out, or generally want to shoot him in the leg. He hand delivered three square meals a day, wordlessly, removed her piles of dirty laundry and replaced them clean, or generally made her comfortable. Natasha never told him to stop.

Steve grieved, like all of them did. He was also loyal to an utter fault. He confessed what he'd promised to Clint, that he would be Natasha's protector till the day he died, and whether she liked it or not, he planned to carry that out. Learning that she was going to be a mother turned his "father bear" mentality on overdrive. Natasha could very well order him to jump out a window, naked, wrapped in an American flag and the man would do so without question. The power over him did have the risk of becoming intoxicating. For now, she resisted, deciding it was better not to fight him.

Unlike her presumption, she wasn't the only one seeking a little privacy in the gym. Tony and Pepper were out at a doctor's appointment, Bruce went along to interview an OBGYN for her, and Thor wasn't supposed to leave his room for at least another week, or more. Surprisingly, she found the Asgardian sitting on the edge of the boxing ring, staring at the floor.

Natasha looked back at the way she'd come, debating if going to her room might be better than making conversation. Thor's expression gave her pause. He seemed so, emptied. Forgoing her own ideas, Natasha strode inside.

"Seems like someone flew the coop," she said, striding over. Her walk was changing slightly and she didn't like it.

Thor looked sharply up, too fast, and threw out his hand to grab the ring ropes and prevent falling forward. He closed his eyes.

Concerned, Natasha started forward, pausing at his side with her hand on his knee. Thor wasn't weak. She'd seen him bleed twice, maybe three times in the years they'd known each other. In all that time he required bed rest only once during the Frost Giant war on Asgard. He felt good enough to march back into that war front twelve hours later.

"I am well, I assure you," Thor attempted to say.

"I believe that as much as Loki's reformation."

Thor's eyes opened. He smiled a little. "It gladdens me to see you. You should not spare your concern for me when there are so many others that require your attention."

"I can worry about whatever I want," she said with a false stubbornness.

When Thor came up from the crag of rock, it wasn't without his fair share of injuries. Some creature had taken a large bite out of his left arm. Another snatched at his abdomen, pulling a chunk of flesh and muscle away. His knee was an entirely separate matter.

"How are you?" Natasha asked.

Thor shook his head. "You should—"

Natasha reached up and pinched the back of his good arm, hard. Thor jumped, holding the offended limb with a look of complete shock. She smiled, hoisted herself up, and sat beside him. She scooted close and leaned her head along his shoulder.

"Stop telling me what I should and shouldn't do. You aren't my mother. I asked how you were. You saved my life, remember? I didn't just forget that after you came screaming down out of the sky to save me."

Thor tensed slightly, but soon the fight left him. He took in a great breath, building up his lungs like a bellows, and released it slowly. "I am progressing. It is slow. If I spent this time among my people, then I might have crossed the plain of feeling healthy once more. As it is, I am here."

"Why don't you return home?" she asked quietly, letting her head rest against him.

"I believe I am needed more here."

"I'm sorry about your father, Thor. I'm not sure if I had a chance to say that to you."

Thor shook his head a little, he let his body fall back until the ropes supported the two of them. Natasha felt unnaturally like human company and stayed.

Steve told her the story when she asked for it. About how Thor dropped out of the sky, took her to safety, and dove into the dark depths to rescue Clint single handedly. Thor returned from that darkness half dead. It took Bruce and a team of five surgeons ten hours in surgery to stabilize him and another five hours the following day. He remained on life support for three days, an unheard of time for an Asgardian. The doctors could only assume some unknown poison existed in the jaws of those creatures, hampering the future king's progress toward recovery. Seeing Thor now, Natasha had no doubt their theories proved true.

"There have been so many, too many, I must grieve. Nothing remains of my father to release into the stars. Soon Asgard will look to me as their king. In many respects, my people already do. I have left our leadership to Heimdall, at least for now, until I wish to accept my place. Jane awaits my return there. She has been patient."

Natasha hadn't thought of that before. Odin commanded his ship down Galactus' throat, boxing in the Bethlehem Star to prevent the Heralds from striking her down. Odin, and four ships of his commanders, all perished in that final push which served as the final undoing of Galactus. The skies were set on fire when the Bethlehem Star engaged. The moon shook apart, the nearest ship vaporized in the utter force of the colliding Goliath particles. The massive blackness which was once Galactus sucked into the singularity, his tendrils of power stripped from the world around until nothing remained of him. He was trapped, cycling for millennia in the signet of energy spinning him round and round forevermore.

"When will you go?" she asked.

"There are a great many things to accomplish beforehand. Veurr, our old friend, was once the captain of my father's guards. He has become more than that and I have decided to set him over my armies and international relations. Sif joins him in that role."

"Your right hand." Natasha smiled approvingly. Veurr had been Clint's friend and guide on Asgard. As upright as a flagpole, he spent the first half of the Frost Giant war protecting Barton and the second half proving he was worthy to the task after his loyalty came into question. Sif and Natasha had shared a great time in battle together during the Frost Giant War. There was no one better to continue to groom the former captain.

"As I remember, he's the kind of guy who might pass out and refuse something like that, claiming he's unworthy."

"And so he has. Heimdall has convinced him otherwise under duress. Now my focus remains on replacing my great friend's position."

Natasha liked listening to these troubles. They seemed minor compared to the rest of their lives. Somewhere in D.C. Steve sat in front the world leaders, testifying about the events that occurred, as he saw them. She did not envy his position.

"What about Volstagg? Or Fandral?"

Thor, had his heart been in a different place, might have laughed. "No, neither would accept. They enjoy their freedom too much for such positions as that may require."

"Do you have anyone in mind?"

"Perhaps. It does not matter just now. I have time to decide it. I will ask when it appears right to do so."

Natasha nodded. Her eyes drifted down to his knee, where the mound of bandages steeped over the hidden wound. He'd nearly severed it completely. Had he been a Midgardian, Thor might be in a wheelchair for the next six months. If he was an elf, he most certainly would be dead. That race didn't handle medical maladies. Even minor wounds took months to heal.

Natasha's hand found its way into his. She liked to blame the evil entity swimming through her veins known as "hormones". They made her emotional. Fought her Black Widow training every moment. They made her seek out his comfort against her.

"I am sorry," Thor whispered.

Her fingers tightened on his. "For what?" She wasn't sure why she said it. Thor had saved the words for such a moment alone as this. "Clint loved you. Loved all of us. You were like a brother to him."

Thor's eyes closed. He pushed away from the ring until his feet touched the floor and he picked up the cane to lean on. Natasha watched him take a few steps for the door, as if he meant to slip away. Before he left her in solace, Thor turned to her.

"I vowed to stay by his side. I failed him." Thor's face was heavy in emotion. She'd seen him this way once, soon after his mother's murder years ago. "I am not his family. I have no right to be called such. I have failed him in his dying hour and I have failed his heir which I have heard you now carry. He will never know the man Barton was and for that I can blame only myself." Thor limped gloomily away. Leaving Natasha in the shadow of his heavy words.

:(:):(:):

Natasha strode up the hallway, tracing her hand along the center molding of the wall. Pepper had repainted it since the last time they had lived in the Tower. The upper half of the walls was painted a soft buttercream, the lower a deep, pine green. The color was so rich, she thought she could even smell the deep forest scent. Pepper wanted to make the place more like home.

Coming to the end of the walkway, her attention shifted right to the living room and kitchen. Thor stood in the center of the room, transfixed by the over-sized television. Curious, Natasha took a few steps toward him to see around his shoulder.

"They have asked after our departed brother." Thor said, not moving.

Steve Roger's face appeared on the screen. He sat behind a long, oak table with General Rhodes on the left of him and Captain Sam Wilson on the right. Five leaders of the United Nations assembled in an arc of judgement seats in front of him. More littered the seats of the court room, intermixed in the living senators, congressmen, and United States party leaders. The interim president was front and center of it all.

"What have they been saying?" Natasha asked, stepping softly to the couch. She lowered herself down, transfixed by the faces on the screen.

"They demand to know whether our brother caused these atrocious acts. They are uneducated fools to ponder such cursings."

"What did Steve say?"

"They await his response now."

Natasha grew quiet. She searched for the remote and adjusted the volume, raising it enough to hear without straining.

The cameraman appeared confused. He switched continually between the president's critical face and Steve Rogers who had yet to lift his head from his lap. Sam placed his hand on Steve's shoulder, squeezing gently.

"Captain Rogers, we have been patiently waiting your response to these accusations. Now we appreciate all the sacrifices that the world's heroes have made under these extreme circumstances, but it is the object of this assembly to understand the reality of what befell that day. If Clint Barton was a traitor—"

Natasha gasped, her hand flying up to her mouth. The man, president or not, was lucky Steve had attended the meeting and not Tony, Bruce, Thor . . . anyone else really. Steve might keep a level head where the others could not. Rhodes and Sam both launched out of their chairs, the objects tumbling backward with the force of their outburst. Steve, the measure of calm, grabbed both of them. He became their leash.

Outburst over, a fuming pair reset their chairs and shoved themselves down into them. Raising his eyes, Steve spoke at last.

"Clint Barton, known also as Hawkeye, was one of the greatest men I have ever known. For you to consider, to let the thought pass your mind, that he was anything less than a hero is absolute horse –"

A fast censor bleeped out a four word long string of curses that Natasha nearly fell right over for hearing. Captain America, the world's pretty boy, just cursed out the president of the United States.

"The man has deserved the words," Thor whispered. He came a little closer to watch.

Steve never left his chair. He did not shake, his voice, at first, came out steady and calm as the rumble of thunder. The room grew silent. The country drew close to their television screens as they listened to Captain Rogers tell everyone just what Clint Barton had done for them.

He started in the hospital the day Clint's stroke nearly sent him to his grave. Many knew the story, for it was from that moment the ancient Sarhorn race first entered their lives and started them on the path to Galactus. He continued on, about how Clint left his home, his livelihood, and everything he loved knowing that one day the universe was going to ask him to die in only the most horrible way it could formulate.

"Clint didn't just risk his life once. He did it day after day, over and over again to keep our small effort moving." Steve had to stop. Rhodes leaned in, whispering encouragement. When he took up the story again, his voice had altered a little as the grief began to seep in. "Not long after we first reached the Gateway, our fleet was under a surprise attack from Alfheimr. While we shuttered ourselves in, hid behind our guns, and died under the Kree's might Clint took a ship and flew to Vanaheim. He warned our men in enough time to save our efforts. He personally ran into a burning barrack, rescuing hundreds of Alfheimr natives, including their king. He then personally flew those rescued souls to safety. He had been impaled and suffered internal bleeding on top of a damaged kidney. He still dragged himself out of his hospital bed to sit by King Haladarrel while he died.

"Clint knew our success depended on our relations with Alfheimr and he did everything he could to preserve that. He did more than anyone else on that World Council. Against sound medical advice, he left Vanaheim to help find the Infinity Gauntlet."

Steve looked around the room. "Not a lot of people on this planet knows exactly what the Infinity Gauntlet is. In stupid terms, it's a power source. It gives nearly limitless energy to one worthy enough to wield it. Thanos had it when he invaded Earth and nearly vaporized the oceans. He used it against Galactus in the first war and almost assured us of our own doom, because that's how Galactus feeds on power. Clint knew that if a Herald, or one of Galactus' followers got to the Gauntlet, anything we did would be worthless. And they would stop at nothing to get it.

"He spent months in space in a ship no bigger than this room. With no autopilot. Flying twelve hours at a time. He met up with the Guardians of the Galaxy and with their help continued searching. Finally it was in their hands. And it had to be moved.

"I'm not forgetting the fact that the entire time Clint was risking his life, Thanos and his agents were working against him. An Elven engineer, kidnapped by Thanos, attempted to kill him. Loki, who had supported him for nearly a year in space, alone, betrayed him. Clint was faced with a choice. To go to Alfheimr and try to save it, or to hide it. He stood up when everyone else was too busy evacuating this planet to care about the Elven Race. A race who only encountered heartache because they volunteered to help us."

Steve was forced to stop again. His eyes dropped to the table top. Sam patted his shoulder gently. The audience waited with bated breath for what might come next. His mind was filled in those final moments he and Clint shared together. Clint signing through the glass at him. His final goodbye.

"Clint Barton died at Heaven's Keel on Nova Luna. After using the Infinity Gauntlet to save Alfheimr, after decimating the entire Thanos fleet single handedly, he wrestled against a Herald, alone. That creature took the Gauntlet to Nova, knowing Galactus would soon come. What was five and a half years of preparations for us, was only a few hours for him. Clint knew where to find the Gauntlet. Knew that getting it and destroying it, was the only way to assure our chance at living. He—"

Emotion choked his voice. Rhodes swiftly leaned forward, grabbed a glass of water and guided it into Steve's hands. The whole world watched as Captain America's shaking fingers attempted to let him drink. Sam took the glass away before it shattered.

Steve started, and stopped perhaps three times in his attempt to overcome the emotion. It took many, patient, minutes to hear him finally say, "Clint Barton wasn't just a member of our team. He was a member of our family. He knew he was going to die, and he made that ultimate sacrifice." Steve rose to his feet. Fearing what he might be capable of, Sam and Rhodes got up also. "Any man who tries to sit here and say he was anything less than a hero is . . . is . . ." Steve dropped his head to his hand again.

Rhodes leaned forward, bringing the microphone to his side of the table. "Sirs, is it all right if we take a moment here?"

The president's eyes darted to Rogers who was too overcome with emotion to continue speaking. He then spied at the cameras which watched his every move. It wouldn't do any interim president good to lay into Captain America, a man obviously weighed down in unyielding grief. "I think that would be a good idea. Let's take a recess and pick this back up after lunch."

Rhodes took Steve's elbow in his hand and gently helped raise him out of the chair. Steve followed numbly. He hadn't gone more than a few, staggering, steps before his legs gave out from under him. The room gasped and jumped from their seats. Sam dropped down beside him and shoved the cameras back.

Natasha looked over at Thor. "I think our altar boy just learned some big-kid words."

"I think he said a deal less than what I might have thrown at them," he replied.

Poor Steve! Poor Thor! Awe, those boys are so hard on themselves, but in grief its to be expects.

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