A nice, European countryside is the only exception to rural life that I can tolerate. I mean, I can appreciate the solitude of it, and all that shit about the simple pleasures of the mundane, but there's something about farms and traditional ranch-style houses that promise dirt in your bed, bugs in your food, and a neighbor who auctions off his daughters as they do with the animals kept out back. On top of all of it, with big open land surrounding your little home, you're essentially begging to partake in one of a serial killer's more elaborate wet dreams.

Under normal circumstances, you'd have to kill me to get me there. In fact, that certainly could be the case. For things are just dire enough to catch me trekking through fields of tall grass, practically inviting Lyme's disease to my pity party.

However, the ranch house in question may just be worth it.

Although I am the serial killer hiding amidst the grass, they are no sitting ducks. I can imagine that if someone did try this house, it wouldn't necessarily end in their favor.

However, I've been here countless times, familiar with every in and out, most often than not arriving in some of the worst conditions I could muster. It knows me. Thus there is no reason for the fit of worry that suddenly hit me at the view of the upcoming peak of the hill as if I've just now grown uncertain as to what I'll find on the other side.

I suppose there have been a few changes since then.

A couple.

A lot, sure.

Perhaps I could have sorted this out before traveling twelve hours to the middle of nowhere.

Nevertheless and albeit late, the thought isn't irrational, and my mind will refuse to ignore it. I have even yet to decide, myself, if my new crimes have changed me beyond recognition to those who have known me before. It's enough of a concerning idea to stop me just steps from the top, almost eager to preserve what left of a life I have untouched by him.

They'd see it, somehow. I'm sure it would only take them one look. They'd notice the empty belt of weapons, look into my eyes for the nuclear, and realize I've deployed it. They would find, then, the deepest scar with his signature along it, and read all the ways I let it happen, and all the torture I returned.

I can imagine it would be difficult to see me through a love that has hurt them, too.

There really is only one way to find out, I suppose. And if there is, in fact, a slim probability of their acceptance, well, that's what I really came all this way for, isn't it?

I might as well test my fate, and seeming as though I only know one way to do that, my feet started again on their own, decisively marching to the peak of the hill to my potential death.

And just as I could have hoped, I broke the horizon and stood at the top for only a moment before an arrow zips past my face, the wind stinging my skin along with it.

At least I know I'm in the right place.

I don't take another step before turning around, knowing that those arrows don't miss. The first arrow is more of a security measure, to condemn someone's audacity of finding the house. Sure enough, I found it snuggly lodged into the bullseye drawn on the tree behind me.

Turning back around with a wide grin on my face, I shout down in that general direction. "I'd hoped you'd be here."

I heard the screen door slam against the wooden hinges before I saw her. The archeress emerges from the house with a hand already hovering her browline to get a better view of me, a bow in the other.

Understandably so, she looked extremely confused, mumbling an audible "What the fu-" to herself before interrupting to change her tone completely. "I mean, oh my god! Is that Safiya Natalle? The Safiya Natalle?"

I hate teenagers.

I rolled my eyes as I started down the hill, listening to the sarcasm drip off her tongue.

"What an honor it is to be blessed with your presence. A traitor of the state, the notorious Femme Fatale, her last known residence at 34 Wall Street, New York, NY—"

"Woah, Woah," I cut in while struggling to step through the grass, "don't just scream the address out!"

"Social security number 122-87-"

"Okay, shit!" Despite it, I was laughing by the time I got within a normal distance. It's not like anyone would hear us. Clint's farm was given to him by S.H.I.E.L.D. as a sort of safe house, and as I know all too well, there is nothing around here for miles. "What the fuck is he training you for? Are you using me as a practice?"

With a beaming grin on her face, she lowered her hand so I could see her better. "You're an ever-moving target. You're perfect," she laughs. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm in need of someone as cynical as me," I mused, "And who is more cynical than Kate Bishop. Amateur Archeress, notorious pain in my ass, social security number 187-09-"

Shaking her head, she turns to retreat back in the house without me, waving a hand in the air. "Okay, no, nope, no. It's not cute when you do it. It's just scary."

Humming, blatantly amused, I followed her inside.

The house hasn't changed a bit, considering how long it's been. From all the years that people have come and gone, it's developed a distinctive charm to it that I can't necessarily explain, yet it becomes the house entirely, personality and all. As I take the first step in, I'm glad to find that it hasn't waned.

Clint has turned out to become a sort of crossroads between all walks of life, and as his adventures diversify, this house takes its turn as an assassin's hideaway, or a training facility, even a hero's rehab. I'm sure the media would have a field day if he kept a guest book.

Kate, however, is the only one who ever stays for long periods of time. She's been Clint's protege for a few years now, training to be Hawkeye, and spends the majority of her summers and holiday breaks under his wing. I can tell from the messy state of the house alone that it must be about the middle of summer. For it never takes too long for the lifestyle of a flanneled Clint Barton to clash with the norms of the youngest daughter of Manhattan elite.

Of course, that is nothing she would ever admit, so smoldering my grin, I keep my mouth shut. Kate may know boarding schools and proper gala etiquette, but she's always said that the Manhattanite life costs you more than what you pay for. Distant parents, spoiled peers, and an overall lonely life if you choose over ignorance. Nevertheless, if she weren't such an outcast in such a big city, she never would have become so determined to rely on herself. For better or for worse, it's made her the most independent, blunt, and stubborn person I know.

When she's not training with Clint, she frequently spends time in soup kitchens and women's shelters, seemingly paying a debt she feels she has, but in a way that makes her a much better person than any of us. She's always been uncomfortable with her wealth. Hated it, actually. But perhaps that's because she knows exactly the dangers it brings.

That danger is what brought her to Clint in the first place. He and the Avengers intervened on a deal where Kate was held ransom for some shady shit her father had done. Being the girl she is, she managed to fight off a few of her captors before they arrived, impressing Clint tremendously, but she turned his first offer down.

Unfortunately, it wasn't until she was sexually assaulted that Kate sought him out.

Rightfully so, the event left her traumatized, and although therapy helped, she was motivated to learn combat fighting, martial arts, swordplay, and anything else Clint would teach her.

That year was the last time I had been to this house, when Clint asked me and Nat to stay awhile - to 'co-parent' as he so put it. Of course we did, and although I'm not necessarily the person you go to for emotional support, you can be damn sure that I taught her how to kill anyone that tried her again.

As I settle in and start wandering around the living room, I spot her gear laid on the table and smile just the slightest. It's because of that year on the ranch that Kate still carries Black Widow's utility belt, Hawkeye's bow, and my knife - for close proximity emergencies.

After clipping her hair up from the heat, Kate sighs and leans against the counter. "I'm serious. What are you doing here? I heard you had a settlement and took off," she prods, her voice carrying from the kitchen. "I mean, who chooses to hang out with Clint? You could be in, like, France right now."

Despite myself, my face fell just the slightest.

"I'm not ready for France," I admitted, letting a moment of silence pass before I felt confident enough to return. "Not yet. And you're here."

She laughed once. "To set this straight, I don't hang out with him. He hangs out with me."

"Of course." Hitching up an eyebrow, I walked into the kitchen and had a look around. "That's why he's..."

"In Russia."

My other eyebrow shot up in response.

"They've been gone for a few days. I don't know when they'll be back, but that means you can take any room you want."

I hummed and nodded to her before looking around once more, refamiliarizing myself with the area. "They?"

"The Avengers," she mocks all too dramatically. I watched her wave her hands in the air to make a spectacle, and I couldn't help the grin. "It's not like I wanted to go or anything. It's fine. Why wouldn't I want to hang out here, in the middle of nowhere, with no one to talk to? And look at that!" My head turned to where she aggressively pointed on the fridge. "He gave me a chore list! Me. As if the pigs wouldn't rather his room over the mud."

Trying to hide my amusement, I plucked the paper from the fridge that was clearly only meant to taunt her.

"Ew," I said before ripping it in two. "As an honorary parent or guardian, don't do it."

Kate gave a half-hearted cheer before walking over to the windowsill and grabbing a pitcher of lemonade. She nodded to the small, wooden breakfast table before making her way over.

I reached into the cabinet and grabbed two glasses. "Is Nat with him?"

"Oh, of course. When would he ever leave without her?"

There was a full laugh in my eyes as I came to sit with her. "Bitter."

Watching her lips curl down in defiance, I took the pitcher and filled our glasses as nonchalant as I could, mulling over how to bring about the causal question that I suddenly so desperately needed. "Thor's there as well?"

Despite my best efforts, however, her eyes grow a bit wide. "You know Thor?" I only nodded in response, and she looked me up and down with no courtesy for subtlety. "Yeah. He's there too."

I expected the relief to feel this strong considering the weight of the guilt I've been carrying for quite some time. What I didn't expect is how short it would last before an impending sorrow became me. Perhaps things would have been easier if he weren't alive and well, if I didn't have to admit to all that I've done in his absence, and all that I know and probably should tell him. About Asgard, his brother, Jane...

And yet Kate's reaction brought me back to the fact that he doesn't even know how involved I've become, let alone anyone else. For the time being, it may be best to put this one thing to bed.

I smiled. "Then I guess it's just us."

With a bit of resolution, Kate sighs. "If you're bored, then you've come to the right place. I've got a full itinerary of wallowing in self-pity, and shooting arrows at things that make me mad."

"Cheers." I rose my glass and met hers, letting a purposive moment pass us by before I relaxed in my seat. "Tell me what's new. Let me live vicariously through you."

Kate blows out her cheeks and starts playing with the rim of her glass, eyes cast down. "Uh, well my sister got married..."

"Oh shit," I mused, bringing the glass up to my lips. "That's great—"

"She didn't finish her vows, though, before the cathedral was attacked and we all became hostages."

Before I could stop myself, I began choking on the lemonade, half laughing as the coughing fit started. "What the fuck, Bishop. Catch a break."

She shrugs, so casual about being prone to dangerous situations. "It's whatever. The interesting part is that there was a group that tried to rescue us. The 'Young Avengers' they call themselves, which sounds cool, but they actually ended up starting a fire and becoming hostages themselves, so really I had to do all the heavy work."

All at once, my jaw drops, but my eyes soften as this highschool girl never fails to amaze me. "You saved everyone?"

"Yeah, that's what I said." Ever so quickly, she dismisses the point, ignoring how I'm gawking at her like a proud mother. "But even though they failed miserably, they seemed pretty cool, so I tracked them down afterward and practically forced them to make me a member."

Eyes beaming with pride, I leaned back in my seat and crossed my arms over my chest. "So you're a Young Avenger. What do the Avengers have to say about it?"

As if she suddenly got a bad taste in her mouth, she frowns. "It turns out Captain America and Iron Man have a lot to say. They ordered us to disband and then refused to train us. So once I'm done training here, I'm gonna build a new lair and teach them myself."

God, I love her.

Not waiting for a response, Kate sighs, sinking in her chair. "I have no powers and not nearly enough training, but I'm doing this anyway because being a superhero is amazing. Everyone should try it."

When I didn't answer right away, she looked at me pointedly, instantly defensive. "I have the money to get it all started. I just need the people. Right now, it's just me and Cassie."

I smiled, shamelessly. "I'm all for it, and I'll see who I can convince to make things easier for you." She rolls her eyes, knowing a bit too well that 'convincing' is probably a nice way of saying manipulating. "Is Cassie reliable? What's her motive?"

"Geez, I didn't profile her." Urgently, she widened her eyes at me. "And please don't do it yourself. Trust me. She's cool, badass, but we need a better name for her. Hawkeye can't hang around an Ant-girl or a Stinger."

I nearly spit out my drink once those words left her mouth. "Shut the fuck up."

"What?! I know they're both horrible."

"But they are that specific for a reason right? No one picks ants for fun." I couldn't hold in the laugh. "What is this girl's last name? What's her dad's name?"

Thoroughly confused, she narrowed her eyes at me, speaking slowly. "Do you want me to set you up or something? He's definitely single-"

"Is it Scott?" I cut her off. "Ant-Man?"

Kate threw her hands up and her eyes went wide. "Woah, yeah. What the hell?"

I was laughing to myself mostly at this point, thinking about Scott in high-pressure situations and remembering what it was like working with him. "I just met him. Like a day ago. I don't know if she's anything like him, but I trust that you know what you're getting into."

Kate's arms fell in synchronicity with the tension in her face. She seemed to understand exactly what I meant, and that was a good sign.

A laugh escapes her. "Thanks. She adores him and I'm sure he inspired her to do this, but she's got some of her own moves." Studying me again with the distinct smugness of a sixteen-year-old, she playfully raises an eyebrow. "What were you doing with him?"

I overpowered her with a glare of my own. "He works with Hank Pym, as you probably already know. I stopped by the lab."

"Stopped by?" She laughs again, yet so much louder. "As if you're not being viciously hunted by the entire world? Well, I hope you had a nice little visit."

Rolling my eyes, I take a sip of my drink, lips lingering there for longer than I needed to, for they weren't necessarily sure what form to take upon their release. Without responding right away, I slowly set my glass down, a spectacle that both my eyes and a fingertip followed as I started to play with the rim. I had finally found the moment where I could sit down, where not every second costs me something, and I can digest it all.

There was hesitation for what I would come by. But for once, I didn't run. I took advantage of it.

I looked up to her expectantly. As she is observant as ever, I found that her expression responded promptly to the unspoken change of my own, and she was just as sincere.

I sighed. "Full transparency, I'm here because I need a place to hideout. I just need to..." God, I have no idea. "I need a second to think," I decided. "When I was there, at the lab, it...uh, it brought everything back."

I don't know if I'd rather her speak or not, but Kate remained silent, only nodding to confirm she knew full well what I meant. I laid my forearms on the table amidst the moment that passed us, staring at my clasped hands.

What do I need? I feel like whatever it is would be subjecting everyone here to something, selfishly asking them for answers that would cost more to them than they would be of value to me. And yet I know the clarity I yearn for lies covered beneath all that we leave unsaid, for Kate and I are products of an unspoken circumstance, haunted by a similar past.

Rest assured, I'd live the rest of my life in the dark if I didn't have to hurt her. 

Kate starts shifting in her seat. I watch her eyes dart anywhere but to me as she tries to keep a calm, collected face. It's a downside, I suppose, in situations like these to be trained by people like us. Because I wouldn't mind seeing Kate for...Kate. And not only do I notice her trying to keep her emotions down, but there's the idea that she may think of me as the threat.

I went to speak first, to change the subject completely, before she voiced herself instead.

"Can we...talk about it?"

Her voice was soft, uncharacteristically gentle as if she were, for once, unsure of herself. It took me by complete surprise, so I didn't speak for a moment before I realized it had been a moment too long.

I swallowed. "I don't want you to be uncomfortable with me. I would never make you say anything you don't want to."

"I know. I know that," she spoke, taking the courage of looking me in the eye. "But we really never have, and I kind of want to talk about it. With you. It would...feel good...to get it out."

Good?

My eyebrows pinched together as I studied her for a moment, not wanting to look insensitive, but I probably did. Thoroughly beside myself, I had to wonder how long she'd been hoping for this moment to come, how many chances I could have given her, and whose preservation it was that I was really looking out for. Perhaps it's been more selfish of me to keep this from her.

My shoulders sank. "Honestly, Kate, I think I was afraid to talk about it with you because I didn't want to hear how much you probably hate me."

"Hate you?" She coughed.

"Yeah," I laughed, one so humorless, so in spite of myself that I slumped forward. "I'm no role model, especially not to you. I could have been. I could have been the perfect one, but I did everything wrong."

For a long time, she only looked at me, her gaze running along the lines of my face as she pondered something within herself, navigating the sea of feelings that I watched take her face in waves.

"If we're doing this, I want you to get angry with me. Or at me, rather." I continued, my eyes watching hers. "I don't want you to hold back because you know me...or because you may think my intentions were fair. That doesn't matter. I want your conviction."

She gave me her full attention, then, looking me right in the eyes.

"I'm not going to punish you. Is that what you're looking for?" Despite her inner turmoil, she was sure of her words, the slight dip of her eyebrows revealed more of a realization that she's come to herself.

"I hurt a lot of people," I reason. "Most were victims just like you."

"I think you've run out of ways to punish yourself, and you want me to give you more reasons to. And I'm not gonna do that."

I think my face betrayed me, showing her just how much her words had shocked me because a surge of confidence overtook her desire to cower and she straightened her spine. Not that I even had the words, but I didn't dare speak.

I let her watch me until she scoffs, as if she were almost disgusted. "Of course you don't."

After a beat, "Don't what?"

"You don't consider yourself a victim."

It was a statement, one I glared at her for. "Bishop."

"Safiya." She glares back, voicing my name a little louder, more assertively. "I won't let you do that," she warned as if it were only for the sake of her own sanity. "Nothing you ever did compares to the damage their abusers have done. You're not the one who ruined their lives. I refuse to have the women I credit with pulling me out characterized with the man who put me under. No."

I sighed, closing my eyes and wringing my hands together. "I don't want you to justify it. This is an apology that I didn't help you more. I had opportunities to set standards, precedents that could have helped you. And when I came here in its aftermath, I was so much of a coward to not even speak of it at all. Hell, it's so fucking irrational, but I feel guilty for what happened to you."

The wooden chair to my side creaked as Kate sat her weight back into it, and for a moment there was silence until a bellowing laugh filled the air.

"That is the biggest and most self-sabotaging delusion I have ever heard," Kate voiced. "Do you take responsibility for all the bad in the world? Do you think the Pacific Garbage Patch is so bad because you littered that one time?"

I groaned, opening my eyes to land upon hers. "Don't put it like that. I live in a world with consequences that big."

She scoffs, turning her head to the side with tongue in cheek, either contemplating her next words or keeping some choice ones back.

Sure, I'm certain that she knows there are things about me that she will never understand. But, I digress, nobody can think as deeply as I can in the same way that no one will ever reach the depths of her.

Perhaps I could lose a bit of perspective.

"I didn't help anybody," I clarified, trying new wording again. "You should hate me for how I handled it. How I fumbled every case. How I didn't save anyone from anything, only had the audacity to make their situation worse. I mean, god, most of them thought it was love, the abuse they took. They ran right back to them, and only because I didn't get my way, I took that love away from them. Killed them with no warning, because I wanted to."

I realized after a moment that it had been quite some time since Kate had blinked. She stared right at me as I spoke, eyes wide and mouth slightly gaped, as if my reason was beyond her. I reminded her of life on earth by blatantly fluttering my eyes.

Eventually, Kate's lips formed an 'o' as she blew out an inaudible stream of air. "Do you know how long it was that I dreamed of doing what you did? Even now, if given the opportunity to snap, my first instinct would be to take it."

Her sudden attention was direct, explicitly on me, as was the careful correctness in her silence that she took to find the proper words. It's an expression I've only seen in the gems of Kate when her eyes turn a dark brown, fueled with a passion she holds so well. "I'll give you justification," she snaps, "even if your face turns green. It happened to me once. It actually traumatized me. I don't know if I could live with walking into my work every day and living it again, over and over. I would have gone mad. Absolutely mental. Anyone would have."

I fought back the urge to roll my eyes and instead rolled my lips to keep myself restrained. I knew anger. It seemed to be the only justification that people gave me, and always with the same script; 'It's what I would have done. They deserved it.'

And yet, no one actually does it, do they? Maybe because they're not capable of pulling a trigger. Or perhaps some people can mature past blind rage. Because that is certainly what you become. Blind.

Though Kate is as persistent as she is incredibly perceptive. She well noticed my distaste, and this girl, more than half my age, glared at me like I was her bitch.

"I get it. This is why I started training, to make sure no one else gets hurt. Because, honestly, I'd rather it happen to me again than to have to watch my best attempts at helping others fail right before my eyes." She clenched her jaw. "But that doesn't work, as you should know. You can't just suck up as much darkness as you can to save everyone else from it. It's a shitty way of isolating yourself and keeping you from being a part of people's lives. And I won't let you do it anymore because I want you in mine."

She ended with a deep huff of breath, and as she took a moment to control her breathing, her eyes quickly flicked between both of mine. "You can't save anyone if you can't save yourself. You think that your self-destruction is the most selfless thing you can do, but justice for them is not served best by inflicting pain on yourself."

As if her attention hasn't arrested me enough, Kate reaches across the table and captures my hands between her own, positively suffocating me in reprimand. As if she knew that would keep me from speaking a single word, she continued.

"You have to notice that even your pain is selfless. You have always done everything you could for them. You gave them the opportunity to fight, you opened the door, you avenged them. It is not your fault that the world wasn't ready, or that they weren't strong enough. Please, Safiya," she pleads, rushing against time as her eyes grow softer and more pliable by the second, "You need to forgive yourself."

There was an all too familiar feeling that crept up to the forefront of my mind. I wanted to berate it, kill it for just a moment, but of course, it was just too rational to me. It's not an expression she would like, but it's definitely one that she deserves, and if I could I would host a sermon of the guilt I have for me as the one needing comfort. I'd preach about the inadequacy I feel as I'm unable to comfort her back in the way I want to. The proper way I should.

"It feels selfish," I murmur, giving her something, anything to feel better, and if that is my repentance, then so be it. "To me it feels selfish, and cruel even, to get rid of that guilt." My gaze fell to our intertwined hands and I stared blankly, far away. "Maybe it has been in a bit of solidarity to hold onto this, to take some of their burdens away. Otherwise, it's as if I could wipe the memories of their trauma, and there would be no one else who would feel that with them. They'd be lost." I swallowed. "Alone."

As I close my eyes, I feel Kate's thumb run along my finger in an attempt to soothe me. "If I've learned anything in therapy, it's that in the end, it's the victim's decision whether or not they stay a victim. Do you want to know how to truly win over those dicks? You will be better. You help yourself." I could notice a slight tremor in Kate's voice as she spoke, her entire being brimming with emotion. Yet it's not something I would ever extinguish. In fact, I listened. "You say that you've become them," she continued after a moment, no doubt taking the time to study such dismay.

I'd say I'm a bit worse, to be honest. But that would mean Kate's efforts now were for nothing.

"Yeah," I said simply.

After a beat, she spoke. "So why is it that you're still standing?"

Jesus. Read the fucking room, Kate. I practically limped in here. I'm gripping on for dear life, for god's sake.

Suddenly, the urge to run came with warning signs and flashing red lights at the direction she's taken me. I opened my eyes to see her foot nowhere near the brake, all apprehension for my safety gone.

"Kate," I warned.

She ignored me. "We can all see it, Safiya. What you see as your greatest weakness is what saves you every time. Because you can do what they can't." With as much fervor as someone looking to go to war, she leans closer to me, drilling into me her full attention. "You are able to love and be loved without having to force it out of someone. And the love you have...It's genuine, unconditional, a one of a kind love that wants justice, and fairness, and all the best in life for your people. Safiya, you're filled with it. You know it's so damn hard for you to suppress that you're in the constant battle against it."

I watch in awe as a tear escapes Kate's eye and streams down her cheek. Speechless, she leaves me.

"You're out there saving the world—Yes, saving the world—Liberating whole countries, saving families, breaking shackles for millions of people without wanting any credit. It pisses me off that you can't see how extraordinary the things you've done. It scares me sometimes that you can't acknowledge it because that would mean that they won. Your love is what they want to take away from you. Because they know just as much as everyone around you that if you gave yourself the ability to be shameless with that love...that you'd be too powerful."

She made no move to care for the wet on her cheeks or the audacity her emotions had to drench them. She left them there as if they were proof of her sincerity, proud and audacious.

"I know you're not them," she states, clear and unquestioning. "You want to know how I know you love me? You were here. You were here for a full year, fighting demons with me while you were struggling with your own. You helped me get my control back. You've taught me how to defend myself. You gave me my confidence to go back out there. If you don't believe that you did any good, I need you to know that you helped me. So much." She paused as her voice began to break, but on second thought, she found her brokenness had something to prove. "So much," she added.

Watching her, my lips twitched with a threat of tears of my own, eyebrows pinching together. "Kate..."

She took to composing herself the best she can, holding my hands tighter and looking right at me. "I will not let him ruin my life. Or yours. I am not a victim. You are not a victim. At least not until you acknowledge that you don't want to be. Because at the end of the day, it is your decision whether or not it will ruin you."

My shoulders sank at the depth of the breath that left me. Without a second thought, I took a stronghold of her hands and lifted them to a kiss. I shook my head as I considered her, mostly in awe and in some reverence to who she has become. "It scares me how much I care about you," I admitted. "I don't want you to ever doubt that I do."

With a sigh and a slight shuddering breath, Kate's eyes lost her defenses and I kissed her hand again. "You're the strongest person I know, do you know that?" I watched as she rolled her eyes through tears. "Hey." I snapped, getting her attention again. "You've been dealt shitty cards, and somehow, you still find privilege in that. You pulled yourself out, and you'll do it again." I leaned in closer to her, beaming veracity. "You're unbreakable."

For the next few minutes, Kate broke down, and I held her across the table as she cried. I had to wonder if it were my bias that preceded me in thinking that the way she did cry was dignified. She truly didn't look weak at all. If anything, it was productive in the way her uncertainty was leaving her in those downward streams, washing herself of anything needed no longer.

It was quite powerful.

And though they were not nearly the strength of hers, I felt tears of my own stake claim upon my cheek. It was strange to be crying this way. Not in a rage. Not rushing to gather my tears before they fell, fearing losing whatever would be coming out. It was strange, novel, and a bit comical.

A bit of a laugh left me despite myself. "We are the last two people anyone would suspect crying to each other at the dinner table."

Kate mumbled something, and as she lifted herself up to face me again, I was glad to notice the smile on her face when she laughed again, wiping her tears. "Clint would have us both admitted if he saw this."

"This will not leave this room." I held up my pinky. "Our secret."

Interlocking her finger with mine, her usual snark returned. "My street rep would be ruined."

Humming, blatantly amused, I took a moment to watch her before letting her loose and leaning back in my chair. My nose still burned and I felt the need to tend to my eyes, though I tried to keep as much subtly as I could.

The fear of being a victim had damaged me more than I thought. If I were honest with myself, I've been one my whole life. A victim of circumstance. A victim of my parents. A victim of powerful men. Always on the run, never settled, swayed by circumstance after circumstance, and never one of my own. I still don't want to admit that any of the above has any control over me, and yet, their memory is what has kept me so dejected.

I've given people expectations that I can't even live up to. Especially my clients. I've blamed them when they wouldn't think rationally. I hated that they felt things so strongly, that they let themselves be controlled by emotion. I've been so frustrated, fostering the predisposition that this made them inherently weak.

A hypocrite, he's called me.

My logic was faulty as logic is itself. In a human world with gods and devils, good and evil, emotion is the divine rule. It's the only way to truly understand.

I don't think I've ever wanted to. I've never been that fearless.

My head snapped up as Kate laid her glass down on the table harder than what was warranted, successfully breaking my thoughts and earning my attention. It's what she wanted, I noticed, as she considered me with her lips turned to a slight frown. "I know it's not just a visit to the lab that could get you to talk," she said, careful with her words this time. After a beat of hesitation, "Saf, what happened?"

What was the point in ignoring it anymore?

"I love someone."

I said it clearly, blatantly, no longer hiding it because it truly meant everything. I know this. From the shock that paralyzed Kate whole, she knew this. Because here I am, becoming exactly what she wants me to be, or the potential for mass destruction like she's never known.

Realizing she hadn't blinked in a while, Kate brought her eyes back to normal size. "You..."

"I hate that I do," I interrupted her. Right now, I really had no interest in her response or waiting for her to find the words. I was sad and angry and fucking overwhelmed. Instead, I buried my head into my arms on the tabletop, groaning as if I truly was nursing an open wound. "But I can't help it," I mumbled. "Not this time."

The silence carried on and all I had was myself. I'm composed of him, of me, of this stupid fucking situation, breathing it in and out as if it were my new oxygen, capable of giving me life or death.

I could have laughed. Instead, I think I cried. "God, I hate him, Kate."

After another minute passes, I hear proof of Kate's arrival back to the moment through a single hum that seemed to be just for herself. The courage she had held so well before was nearly gone as all she could manage was a whisper in my wake. "I think—I think that's usually how we feel about things that wake us up."

And here I learn that Bishop never knows when to give it a rest. I felt my eyes grow a little tense and a bit too dark as I picked myself up and met her again. I think she noticed all too well. And yet, there's a reason why she's still sitting there and not knocked out where she sits.

Kate cleared her throat. "I don't have much experience in that department," she admits, shamelessly if I may add, "but is it really that bad?"

I don't think there's a clear answer to her question.

Though I attempt it. "He demands me."

It's neither good nor bad, merely a fact of the matter. Initially, the idea seduced me. He was the very person I loved to target—power-hungry, dictatorial, arrogant. So arrogant that he wanted me for himself. Killed to get it.

And I let him.

Kate shifted in her seat, letting a moment pass. "Do you want to love him?"

I could only stare at her. "I don't want to be a victim," I admitted without even a conscious thought. The truth came so easily, as it usually does with him.

"I thought I knew what it was like to lose. It was enough to vow that I would never lose again, and with every dictator I'd take down, every billionaire, every kind of offender, I thought I was gaining some kind of control that would give me a balance I could feel. It was way too late before I realized that I was only slipping, losing everything. Myself, my humanity, the idea of living..." I took a deep breath, eyes glazing over. "I don't want to lose anymore. Not to love."

She didn't ask any further questions. Instead, she did the best thing she could do and just sat with me in comfortable silence, knowing that there was no right solution. Not one that she could administer, anyways. But in the silence hung a resolving agreement that I think we both knew. I may only know love for all that I've lost to it, but if the relationship between us were any consultation, I haven't even begun to experience the duality of it, in what you gain.

With a loud and long gust of breath, Kate looks to me directly, sharing her mental exhaustion with a soft smile on her face. "Can we shoot something?"

"God, yes," I practically pleaded. "Please."

That's how we spent the rest of the afternoon. After target practice followed Jujitsu. After I tapped out of exercise, she moved to do a bit more shooting on her own. I took the opportunity to head into the house and clean myself up, but I didn't get very far. At the first sight of the couch, I laid down and fell asleep within a couple of minutes, exhaustion taking me completely.

I'm convinced I would have been able to sleep well into the next day if Kate hadn't burst through the door, jolting me awake again. Though it was hard to be upset with the look on her face.

I raised an eyebrow as her eyes beamed at me, lips teasing a bit of a smile. "We have company."

... ... ...

Although I could see Clint was not alone, nor could I wait to see the new group of runaways he has adopted, I couldn't pay them any attention. The moment he stepped into the house, our eyes found each other.

Awe struck me completely as we could only seem to stare. I don't think that he was expecting to come home and see me, laying on his couch, and for that second I consider how I may have gotten a bit too comfortable with intruding on people's lives. Yet, I didn't move. Amidst a more powerful revelation, I hadn't realized just how much I had wanted him to be here.

I suppose that comes with being one of his rescues.

Slowly, and ever so carefully, I stood up, gauging even the smallest of his reactions to see where the boundaries stood. Yet, thankfully and in a moment of seconds, the validation only he seems to bring renders them vain.

It was then when my name passed through his lips in a heavy, released breath, one so resounding that it pinched his eyebrows together and propelled him forward. He made me sound like a treasure he had hidden so long ago—happy to see it and yet beyond concerned on how it's gotten here. I watched his instant instinct to rectify a situation sprawl out across his face. "Saf," he repeats in a whisper, the second before his arms were around me.

Only once my arms were fastened around his neck could my wide eyes close, allowing me to focus on all that Clint couldn't say aloud. His hand came to hold my head against his shoulder, securing me to him, and as the hug became so tight that it spoke, I realized that he truly didn't think he would see me again.

It comes with the job, I suppose. The expectation that every goodbye could be the last. But that never could resonate with us, of course. We're different. Immortal.

Yet, with how terribly I left things, and as luck is his faith, I can only imagine Clint lost it.

"Hey." Barely a whisper had left me and I doubt he even heard it given his preexisting weakness in that, so I tried again. "Hey, I'm sorry. I know it's unexpected, but I needed to hide for a second."

I pulled back to see confirmation that he'd heard, to which his eyes gave me instantly.

"As long as you'd like," he whispered, the depth of conflict in his eyes truly stealing me away from the world around us. With another heavy breath, he quickly brought my head back to his shoulder, his lips at my ear. "Don't ever do that again."

There was no way to apologize for a disappearance I didn't necessarily plan, but God knows I have about a hundred other things I should be begging his forgiveness for. I hugged him tighter.

"As luck would have it, you're in the best place for that right now." Quite reluctantly, Clint began to let me go, pivoting his body to the doorway where I heard two pairs of footsteps enter the house. Turning my attention there, I was quick to complete and utter shock. Although nothing about today could have been expected, it was an otherworldly surprise to see Tony Stark and Bruce Banner walk through the door.

"Well," I huffed, half amused and the other blatantly confused, "these aren't the usuals."

Clint returned a half-hearted laugh, one that tried way too hard to keep up appearances. That's when I noticed how Stark and Banner were staring at me. I mean, they were more confused than anything, probably trying to remember together where they've seen me before, but under that, behind the eyes, was something grave. They looked defeated, exhausted, a bit lost, and only then did I put together that the mission didn't go as planned. No, something went terribly, terribly wrong.

Any bit of lingering amusement drained from my face as I turned back to Clint.

"Where is she?" I spoke softly, only to him.

For a beat, he only looked at me. "We all took a bad hit," he admitted. "Some worse than others."

What the fuck is that supposed to mean?

I eyed him, attempting to read whether or not she was here or if they just got back from her funeral. He gave me nothing.

That pissed me off.

I broke from his hold completely, my mind reeling with an urgency that had no direction, now hyper-aware of every detail of the room, every breath they took, and every look they gave to each other.

"Saf?" He asked me cautiously.

I raised my eyebrow. "Clint?"

He just opened his mouth to speak when a resounding noise snuffed his attempt and demanded my attention. My head snapped to the front door, tunnel-visioned on the figure that suddenly took up the entire frame.

Every detail I noticed froze me in place a bit more until moving wasn't even a conceivable thought. I saw the long blonde hair, the red cape, the amour I knew all too well. I watched, robbed of my breath, as he ducks under the door frame and takes a thundering step into the house, his boot landing on one of Kate's bows, snapping it in half. Still oblivious to everyone else in the room, we watch as he proceeds to kick its remains under the chair, hiding the evidence.

Fuck. Fuck, it's really him.

Thor lifts his head and finds Clint first, giving him a tight smile as if to say sorry before rolling his shoulders, extending to his full height.

Guilt replaced my blood and washed through my veins as I quickly became the most impure and adulterated being in the room. Fear pumped through my chest so loudly that I bet he could hear it if the sudden sense of something so foul was not putrid enough. Nevertheless, it had to be one or the other because, at that moment, he finally noticed me.

My heart stopped as he did a double-take, glancing over at me once just to fully register a second later who I was. And then his eyes locked on mine.

He knows.

No, he can't. Could he tell how nervous I am? Probably. Is he wondering why? I would be. If I were him, I'd be questioning it. I'd be planning my interrogation.

I think I was waiting for a few choice words or a lightning bolt to the heart. Thus you can imagine my complete surprise when a smile broke out on his face.

By all wonders, his deep, booming voice lets out a laugh, one that filled the entire house. "Unbelievable," he spoke, shaking his head to himself.

Despite it all, my eyes softened, full of conflict, and yet so happy to see him. Alive, here.

"Hi," I whispered, the side of my lips lifting at the contagion of his own.

Fuck it.

She's hurt. She's dead. It's so wrong to be acting like this with him. I know. But before I knew it, I was starting towards him with a spring in my step.

Soft, deep laughter poured from his mouth as he took me into his arms, lifting me clean off the ground and spinning us around. I could sense Stark and Banner staring at us, probably planning to request details later of just how we got so friendly, but I couldn't quite care.

I missed him, and there is so much to talk about, but I forced it all down for a moment. In reality, we've always been worlds away, but never this far. The truth of the people he loves, who is alive and who is flirting with death, is beyond him in secrets I should tell. Secrets that push us further and further apart. But right now, the Safiya in his eyes is warranting a smile that big and a hug this tight. I can be her, for a moment. I want to be her.

Because Thor felt like Thor—sweet, strong, and heavily muscled. He felt like slow dancing in the palace hall while heavily intoxicated. His arms felt as warm as I did when he defended me to Odin, despite not even knowing me well, then. He felt so distinctively him, good and light, perhaps always in a circumstance oblivious to just who I am.

It didn't take long to realize why I could abandon all inhibitions for him. And as his hold began to loosen, I found myself reluctant to be let down from the arms of Asgard, because I know just how empty I feel when they're gone.

Setting me down on two feet, Thor quickly came to cup my face between his hands, hunching down to my height to look at me directly. The longer I looked into his eyes, the more sober I became, and the more frustrated I found myself that his hands were too rough, too big, too blonde.

Stop. Stop, stop, stop.

I appreciate them for what they are. Thor's. The same god who could look this concerned over someone despite not having seen them in forever. Eyebrows pinched together, his eyes were searching every line of my face as if they could hold the source of trouble.

"Are you okay?" He spoke gently. "How are you doing? What are you doing here?"

I couldn't help the way my eyes softened in perhaps the saddest way. There is something about how he and the prince of mischief and lies could be so different in the ways they are exactly the same. And yet, his brother's gift for tenderness will have to remain something he will never know. Because what Thor can't know is how I've been lulled to sleep these past months at the hand of those soft touches and sweet nothings.

Laying my hand on his wrist assuringly, I smiled and gave him a simple nod. There is no way in hell I would let him be worried over me. "Are you okay?" My eyes narrowed. "What happened?"

Regrettably, his face lost a bit of light, and, right then, I wanted to punch myself for even asking. But there are greater things at stake than a smile I know will return to him in no time.

Thor looks around the room to the other guys before his attention comes back to me. "We knew HYDRA had enhanced members going in, but I didn't think Midgard had the ability to emulate powers you'd see in other realms, like Asgard." He began to look more distant as if he were pulling on his experience alone. " There was a girl...a witch. She was able to warp our minds, one by one, feeding us each an illusion of our greatest fears."

"They weren't just fears." I turned my head as I recognized the voice to be Bruce Banners. He was looking down at his shoes, hands clasped behind him. "It was as if they were real. Like we were living them. Because, I'm under the impression that some people already had, and they had to relive it. Others were shown a fate that looked more like a prophecy."

My eyes narrowed at nothing in specific as I digested that, and I watched out of the corner of my eye Tony walk over to the bar cart and pour himself a drink. I'd known him personally for no more than five minutes, but known of him practically forever. Safe enough to say that even he is uncharacteristically quiet.

My lips parted as I finally found the words to say, but they were quickly robbed by a heavy commotion at the door. To say it took all of my attention would be an understatement.

I noticed Steve first as he rushed through the door. More so, I noticed his wide eyes, hyper fixated on his surroundings as if a threat could be looming anywhere, even in the brightness of Clint's home. However, it became more apparent that his concern was not for himself, but for any threats to the person he was holding.

Nat.

She had one arm swung across Steve's shoulders while he held her up by the waist. In blatant contrast to him, her eyes were distant, unfocused, and even though she had trouble walking she didn't seem to care enough to better it. She was impassive, stone cold, and that's when I recognized who had been hit the hardest.

Because some people already had, and they had to relive it.

Sensing where my attention lied, Thor had already released me before I could break out of his grip. Urgency ruled me completely, thus I could only give him a look, hopefully something he could decipher as being nice enough before hurrying towards her.

"Steve," I spoke softly and with great caution as I watched his head snap in my direction, eyes bolting into mine. For the first few seconds, they looked at me with no distinction between myself and any other evil in the world. He darkened considerably and tightened his arms around her, fully primal.

I didn't make any moves. I only stood there to give him the moments for recognition to find him. Although he didn't scare me, the extent to which the witch affected him did. For one of them is more human than the other. More susceptible. And if this illusion was enough for Captain America to turn Caveman, well, that's more than enough to be concerned about.

As if to compensate for the absence of himself, Steve gave me a quick smile as he simmered down, letting out a deep breath. Wordlessly, I moved to the other side of Nat, picking up her other arm and swinging it across my shoulders to help bring her into the house.

I suppose I should have known that she would never be completely out of touch. My sudden intrusion woke her into high alert, and before I knew it, her arm was fastening itself around my neck, expertly leaning into pressure points that would have me unconscious in minutes.

Groaning more from frustration than in pain, I brought my elbow to her stomach and twisted out her headlock. I knew that would piss her off, but I also thought it would sober her up a bit.

It didn't.

Without hesitation, she charged at me, taking me by the neck and slamming me against a wooden beam. And before I knew it, I watched as she wound her arm back and clocked me right in the nose.

"Fuck!"

Distantly, I could hear Clint shouting at us from the living room, but I was a bit preoccupied as my eyes deepened to the darkest shades of green.

Nat and I stood face to face, sharing a post fight in such close proximity that her labored breaths mixed with my own. Ever so casually and staring right into her, I brought the pad of my finger under my nose, feeling blood before I pulled back to see it. A dry laugh left my lips. "Oh, you bitch."

I couldn't concern myself with the optics of this, and I didn't bother to look anywhere beyond her. Instead, I watched as recognition slowly seeped into her eyes. She dropped her arm from my neck, but she didn't back away. For what could have been minutes on end, faces unmoving and cold, we studied each other in a look so intense that I could hear the others move to look away, as if they felt like intruders.

It was a while before she finally spoke, her voice just above a whisper. "You dropped off the face of the earth."

"I was running."

"And yet I've always been able to track you."

A second passed. "I've reached some complications."

"Complications," she repeated in spite. Her gaze seared into me and I stared at her right back. There was no way to weigh out the guilt for not keeping her or Clint in the loop. I knew that if she knew where I've been...

"I'm still sorting them all out."

"And you didn't need any help?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying that I'm not capable of doing it myself?"

She cocked her head to the side. "You don't need to do it all by yourself."

That would have been sweet, of course, if I didn't know who she was. What she meant, however, was 'What are you hiding? And why is it so bad that you can't tell me?'

Compromised is the more accurate word. I've been compromised, and she knew that. Thus, I stayed quiet as Nat stared at me, reading me to filth in the way only she can.

"Clint made it sound like you died," I dared to speak, interrupting her from whatever she was figuring out.

"It looks like you did." After a moment, she looked me up and down, returning with her jaw clenched. She was scared. And as I'm sure she has already found everything she wanted, I knew she was scared for me. Yet, with any whisper gone, she continued. "Saf, what are you doing here?"

I had almost forgotten there were other people in the room before Banner chimed in from the background. "Nothing wrong with another refugee. Honestly, she looks like she fell off a mountain or something."

Ignoring the blatant insult, I took a deep breath, preparing for what I knew was to come.

"Did you?" She spoke to me straight, fear just below the surface. "Fall?"

I didn't look away from her, but I didn't answer either.

Before Nat had the chance to speak, Tony whistled into the air, strolling around the living room with a scotch in hand. "Shit. Which one?"

I didn't pay him any mind. Couldn't, really. Admitting it to Nat was just as scary as it was admitting it to myself. She made it real to a degree I can't explain.

"Everest," I spilt, watching her stiffen even just the slightest knowing that she understood fully in that moment what it meant. If it was just for a second, her anger dissipated, hopefully understanding that her fear is mine too, and that falling is my greatest.

The house was silent for a beat too long, anticipating one of us to maybe make things more transparent for them, but it seems Banner couldn't wait. "Um, shouldn't you be dead?"

Well, only the two of us knew that a part of me was.

In the way that Nat shifted in her footing and blinked a bit more frequently, I could tell that her expedition into my soul was thankfully over and done. But her face didn't change, leaving me to assume the worst.

She knows.

Nat backed away from me, giving me space from everything but the weight of her condemning stare. "It's not the fall that kills you," she spoke. "It's the landing."

We didn't move.

Clint, ever the observant, cleared his throat and directed the attention off of the two of us. "Well, let's get washed up and start dinner, huh? Kate here—" he waves Kate over to him, who stays planted in defiance. "Yes, everyone, this is Kate Bishop. She is the finest marksman you will ever see. Except she's like 9."

Luckily, Kate is enough of a common interest for us to tend to, breaking our standoff. Nat actually grins as she walks over to Kate, bumping her with her hip as she passes by and into the kitchen. Kate, on the other hand, looks like she may shoot Clint with an arrow.

Clint grins a bit himself, clapping his hands in front of him once. "Kate if you will be ever so kind to show these people to rooms they can stay in?"

Wordlessly, she turns her head and measures up each one of the Avengers. "You two," she spoke, pointing at Tony and Steve, "Will have to pay for my services. I take cash, credit, or your sign off on having the Young Avengers trained."

This time, I'm the only one grinning, the rest of the Avengers either royally confused or not in the state to play politics.

"I'm sure you guys can navigate the second floor," I intervene, walking over to Kate and hooking her arm in mine. "The staircase is on the right."

Mouth gaped, Kate snapped her head to me. "No! That was my chance!"

I rolled my eyes and leaned into her ear. "You give them enough drinks first and then take them for all their worth."

"Fine," She huffed, "but the heist is right after dinner."

...

AUTHOR'S NOTE

It has come to my attention that some people are believing me when I say I will update. I need to warn you all that if I say I will have a chapter out soon, DO NOT LISTEN TO ME. You will PLAY YOURSELF. I am a LIAR and UNRELIABLE. Really, I wish there was something I could do.

No, I'm kidding, but I have gotten a bit more realistic with my posting schedule. Considering my average word count, these chapters are like 3-4 chapters in one. I don't break them up because I know most people like the flow of the story more where there is a lot to read at one time, but if you guys would prefer smaller chapters for more frequent updates, let me know!

Also, for the sake of this story, Kate and Cassie are the same age (16). Also, if you don't know who Kate Bishop is, read some comics tonight. It's worth it.

And 40k...I cannot conceive that number. A thank you is not good enough 🤍

Okay, we got this. Good times are coming.

...very good times...

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