It wasn't until a good week after I started my chores that Carter and I went about figuring out what exactly was injured when I hit the surface of the lake. I don't know if it was because I wouldn't stop complaining or if it was because I believed that I didn't need Carter's herbal concoctions. Probably the latter. It occurred after dinner one night, the usual time Carter whipped up the rather disgusting tea he usually made for me. I tried to get out of drinking it, and at this point, I can't even remember what I had said that led to our wound management discussion and ensuing injury 'documentation.'

Carter made his 'diagnosis' primarily based on the bruising that took up the majority of my torso. From what he could tell externally, I had at least eight broken ribs. Three on my left side and five on the right. That was just what he could actually tell. We had no idea if there were any fractures. We did conclude that none of the breaks had punctured my lungs or mediastinum, which could've caused pleural effusion or possible pericardial effusion and subsequent cardiac tamponade respectfully. So, I happened to dodge a bullet with that revelation. As for the rest of the unbroken ribs, we theorized that they were just bruised due to the lack of a yellow-green bruise formation over the affected areas like with the broken ribs. As for my shoulder, thankfully it turned out to just be dislocated. It must have snapped out of place when I hit the water. Upon the discovery, Carter had insisted on putting it back into place. I, on the other hand, was none too pleased with the idea of even more pain at that moment. However...he made a good point that if I could at least get my shoulder fixed, there would be less pain in the long run. That and my body would have more resources to repair my injured ribs. I smile to myself as I recall the discussion following replacing my shoulder back into the joint.

"Hey, Carter?" I ask, my voice small and thoughtful.

"Yes, Iris?" He looks at me with concern.

"How come I didn't break an arm or a leg or anything else?" I look up from my hands. One of my eyebrows is drawn upwards as I regard the older man with curiosity.

"Because as you fell your arms and legs were on a higher plane than your torso. So you hit the water back first, which took all the impact. Your arms and legs simply followed." He smiles at me, probably happy that the thoughtfulness I'm showing is for something more serious.

"I must have been going faster than--" The smile on my lips falls as I stop mid-sentence, not prepared to think about Pietro right now. The thought of him possibly bleeding out before he could get help twisted my gut into knots. No, I refused to think about that. I refuse to think about how much pain his sister could be feeling if her brother didn't make it. Carter quickly becomes curious with my pause for thought. He lifts a brow at me from where he sits in his chair across from the couch. "Eh, whatever goes really fast." I smile and shrug my shoulders in hope that he leaves it alone. He knows about Pietro and despite my conclusion, I know that he fully knew what I meant to say. "But anyways, I must have hit that water hard for it to break some ribs."

"Breaking ribs is easier than you think, youngin." He states with an amused look on his face before it changes into a more serious one. "You probably wouldn't have made it if you hadn't slowed yourself down." He tilts his head forward and lifts his brows. There's a certain father-like concern emanating from his stare.

"You saw that?" I feel my face heat up involuntarily, suddenly very embarrassed. It wasn't my most graceful moment. Then again...I don't have many graceful moments whatsoever.

"Of course. I was fishing when the city fell in pieces." He chuckles at me while resting his hands on the cane resting across his lap.

"So you saw me fall?" I scratch my chin, a smile forming on my lips.

"Indeed." He nods.

"Did I look like a falling angel?" I ask as my smile grows broader.

"No." His face becomes serious and bemused.

"Dang it." My smile falls, but not my amusement at my own dumb question.

I can't help but smile to myself. Most of my conversations with Carter are similar. They begin off serious and tend to end on a light, mostly sarcastic note. My reminiscing of prior conversations with my recently rediscovered father figure is quickly cut short by a sharp knock at the door. Having had seen the one who came to the door through one of the windows, I wasn't as tense as I would've been had it been an unknown person. "Carter!" I singsong, hoping my voice would reach him over all the noise he's making in the kitchen.

"Iris." I hear him call back to me.

"Someone knocked on the door." As if on cue, there's another knock on the door again.

"Do you mind getting it?" He calls back when I hear a crash.

"Only because you feed me." I laugh and begin to pull myself off of the couch cautiously. Once on my feet I stiffly hobble over to the cabin's front door. My ribs may be completely healed now, but the muscles of my upper torso were tense and exhausted all at the same time due to my continuous hacking and sputtering due to my non-contagious pneumonia. I'm quick to unlock the three different locks on it. I pry open the door, unsurprised to see Carter's mailman, Charles. Charles usually flies in via seaplane once a week to check on Carter and give him news updates. However, I am suspicious considering he had been here not but three days ago. "Hey, Charles," I greet while opening the door further so he can come into Carter's cabin. "what's up? I thought you weren't supposed to be back until Saturday?" After he enters the cabin, I close the door behind him.

"Well, I was, but I thought it would be important if you saw this." He pulls out a newspaper from his brown leather satchel and hands it to me. My brows scrunch together as I take it from him and unfold it. The headline on the paper reads:

'Avengers declare missing teammate deceased after Ultron incident'

My eyes widen in surprise. I feel like I need to smack myself just to make sure I'm reading this right. Although I'm shocked, I'm not surprised. It is nice to note that they referred to me as their teammate. As for the other issue with the headline, I understand it's been over a month. None of the Avengers have seen or heard from me. So it figures that they'd declare me dead. I look up to Charles with a sad smile on my face. "Thanks for bringing this by."

"I thought it may be important." He solemnly nods.

"Hey, why don't you come in and see Carter. I'm sure he'd like to say hello." I brush off the shocking news and invite Charles further into the house.

"Of course." He gives me a pitying smile before walking towards the kitchen where Carter is still shuffling around. I turn my eyes back down to the article and search for any indication that Pietro may still very well be alive. I find nothing. Actually, I take that back. There's a small section in the paper detailing the events of the Sokovia incident and the injuries sustained by the superheroes, particularly those of one certain teammate received while trying to save a young boy. I know it's not talking about Clint because I remember seeing him unharmed by the incident. No. This was talking about my favorite speedster and it wasn't looking good.

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"Caaaaarrrrttteeeerrr!" I whine as I drop my hands into a particularly soft blanket.

"Now what?" He asks, grumbling as he walks in from the kitchen where he was working with his herbs.

"Either someone knocked on the door, or one of the wild animals is here in revenge for its fallen comrade." I motion toward all of the fur blankets I'm surrounded by on the couch. Carter snorts and moves past me toward the door.

"Who is it?" I hear him ask using his grumpy old man voice. After a moment of hesitation, he opens the door. I lean as far as I can in an attempt to see who it is at the door. I'm surprised to see another guy there. He's more clean looking though. He has a shaved face, clean hair, and clean clothes...the usual normal person look. Carter sidesteps the door and invites the brown-haired man in. The newcomer must be at least 24. Carter closes the door and hobbles back into the living area where a fire is roaring in his old wrought iron fireplace. "Charles, meet Iris. Iris, this is Charles, my mailman." He gestures between the two of us as he makes our introductions.

"You're an...Avenger." Charles says, stuttering, as his face grows pale.

"And you're too good looking to be a mailman." I sweep my gaze up and down his figure quickly before smirking and holding out my hand to him. "Nice to meet you. If the modeling agency needs a referral or something, I will totally vouch for you." The Charles fellow stiffly takes my hand, his own hand warm and shaky, and gently shakes it. He releases it a moment later and takes a step back. "Oh yeah and don't tell anybody I'm alive otherwise I'd have to kill you. You know? Actually don't tell anybody you know me, for your own safety." I narrow my eyes at him, my lips pulled into a flat line as I stare the man down. He gulps and looks over at Carter with wide eyes. Carter shrugs his shoulder while smiling as though he had just heard the funniest joke.

"I don't think she's lying, Charles." The older gentleman warns.

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"Iris, I think it's time you return to your friends." Carter walks into the living room where I'm sitting, still staring at the newspaper with sad and tired eyes. I've read the paper about twenty times now, specifically the part on Pietro's injuries. I've come up with more than enough worst-case scenarios to give me nightmares for the rest of my life. At this point, I've lost hope that the one person I've finally started to get along with is no longer going to be around. Yeah, his cocky attitude and smart mouth are much at times, and yeah I get that's saying a lot considering how I am, but I'm going to miss it. I'm going to miss a lot of things. And poor Wanda... How is she feeling? Is someone there to comfort her? I hope so. Still, if I had known what I know now I would have demanded to return to NYC ASAP. Wanda shouldn't have had to deal with that alone, let alone everybody else.

"Carter, you've been telling me since I've been coherent that I should wait until I've fully healed to return to New York, and now you want me to go?" I look up from staring at the headlining of the newspaper Charles brought me about twenty minutes ago. It's like the world is resting on my shoulders even though I have no reason to feel that way. It's exhausting. Additionally, it's as if all the emotions and thoughts I've been bottling up for the past month have finally started to run over. There's a very high chance that's what's happening right now. I don't know what I want or how I feel, let alone how to move forward.

"Well, you know what they say, Iris." Carter says, a very sad smile on his lips.

"People say many things." My lips pull upward in a pathetic smile, trying to not only make myself feel better but also Carter. These last few weeks may have been rough but I've started to see Carter as my weird father I'd lost contact with and now lives in the woods like a pioneer man. And finally to see him again after four years? I'm not entirely sure I want to leave. However, I'm sure he's absolutely tired of all my...me-ness but I also think he's not quite ready to see me leave. We're the only family each other has left, even if it is nonbiological in nature.

"You plan life and life happens." He looks down at me with both of his hands placed over his cane. The older man gives me a now encouraging smile. At that moment I know what I need to do.

I really need to eat some food.

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"You ready to go?" Charles questions. His hands are firmly clasped in front of him while he watches me do a final check that I have everything Carter prepared for me. Some things of which included: the wooden fox he threw at me, a wooden horse that was fashioned after Apollo, and four days worth of herbs that he demanded I take every morning until I could get proper care for my pneumonia. He also gave me an old painted parchment of Apollo grazing with chickens running about. In the background are pine trees and mountains. It's one of the pieces of artwork Carter told me he painted when he was younger. I became so infatuated with it that he decided to give it to me so I could always remember him.

"Well as ready as any assumed dead Avenger could be." I lift the small bag that Charles gave me to carry my new things.

"What do you think they're gonna do when they see you?" Charles asks while we both wait in Carter's living room for the said devil.

"They'll probably try to attack me. Or you know, maybe just pass out from surprise." I tell him jokingly with a shrug as I think of all the other possibilities of what can happen.

"Uh, would either of those options be normal?" Charles shifts his weight uncomfortably.

"It's the Avengers. Nothing is normal with those guys." I look at him with a small smile.

"True." He chuckles and we turn our attention to where Carter is now making a reappearance.

"Iris, dear," The man who I once thought I would never have the opportunity to see again approaches me. "can I ask you for one last favor?" His eyes are bright with excitement, his hobbling pace having more life in it than usual.

"You could ask me for the moon, Carter, and I would spend a lifetime trying to get it for you." I close the gap between us so he doesn't have to walk all the way over to me.

"When you get back, don't forget about me?" My chest starts to swell with sadness as I look down at the crazy medicine man. He's looking up at me with such an excitement that could only be described as childish wonder.

"Carter, you make it sound as though it would be humanly possible to forget you. I may have struggled to recognize you initially, but I never forgot about you." I chuckle, trying to relieve the heaviness that seems to have settled in the room. "I'm going to tell stories about you to my own children." My lips pull back into a radiant smile as Carter's eyes grow brighter with happiness.

"Could you also have this postcard signed by your friends and then send it back to me, so I know you arrived safely back to New York?" Carter retrieves an older looking postcard that is a picture of old New York from behind him.

"It's the least I could do for you." I carefully take the postcard from him and place it in my bag. Carter then waddles forward and gives me an emotional hug, to which I return. "I'm gonna miss you, you old cracker."

"And I'm gonna miss you too, youngin." After my heartfelt goodbyes with Carter, Charles and I left. But not before I said goodbye to Apollo and gave him a cookie. We trudged through the woods for about fifteen minutes after that before arriving at the lake where Carter's seaplane was parked. But that wasn't all. In addition, there was another familiar face.

One Nickolas J. Fury.