You're the one gonna get all protective about them, huh. [It's a nice thought. Her running around with a ragtag group of kids getting into trouble, being the one to be the voice of reason (or encouragement, depending). He doesn't ask if they know what she can do. Because it isn't-- Well, it's important, yeah, but them liking her for her is more important. If they find out and turn on her, then fuck them.] Promise I won't give any of them a shovel talk. [She's too old for that anyway. Even if the dad in him always was determined that none of his kids were going to date until they were thirty, and she's...
She's not one of his kids. She's been an adult since they met. But she's still family far as he's concerned.
And maybe all of that means he's been too protective. She's offering help. She's offering her place as friend and family to try and help him, even if he can't see how, even if he can't see much more than the occasional pinprick of light at the end of the long long tunnel. But he can't just dump years of shit on her. He won't do that to her. He can't tell her that she's going to be on the run and fall in love and lose that love, that she and half the entire universe are going to get wiped from existence, that he didn't know what to do with himself with an empty house and empty heart. Maybe if he explains that they might all be back, that Bruce did it, he thinks they did it, that the sacrifices weren't in vain, whatever it takes--
His body slouches forward, both closer to her, and letting himself feel all the weight. Five years have felt like fifty. What does he do with this person he's become? Stay on the path, or try to see what's salvageable underneath? If they're all here forever (dubious claim but so far have found no reason to dispute it), whether alive or dead, then doesn't he owe it to himself to make something better? Fuck, doesn't he owe that to Laura?
Doesn't he owe that to--]
Natasha's dead.
[He squeezes Wanda's hand like a lifeline, his eyes darting between her face and a middle distance.]
The circumstances are... [He makes to rub at his face with his free hand but doesn't quite get there before he just makes an empty gesture with it instead, falling heavy back to the table after.] complicated to get into, but. Yeah. She's dead. It's not that I can't tell you these things. [They're hard. They're enormous and they're hard. But he can tell her. If he means to, he can muster through it. She can easily feel the pain, fresh and vibrant, without having to look. It radiates off him. He was falling before he got here; it'd be irony to die that way after Nat was determined to make sure he didn't fall. His throat wants to close up, voice getting quiet and thick.] I don't...don't know what help looks like. For something like that.
[And now she knows. Someone else she was close to, gone. Does he qualify that they got to spend a few more years together before that? On the run, sure, but free of the Raft? But if Wanda hasn't experienced that, does it matter? What does any of it mean here? What good, then, does it do Wanda to know that tidbit of information except hurt her?
It's a whisper, it's even quieter than a whisper:] I'm sorry.
( the words reach her ears, but wanda doesn't feel the emotion that hits her at the admittance first. the tight squeeze to her hand is what she feels instead, thoughts railing in her mind emptily, trying to grasp at what all exactly clint is saying—almost like his words make no sense to her, cannot be made sense of. it explains so much about why clint is asking the way he is, why he cannot seem to contain himself within the presence of a man he used to be; why he clings to solitude and anger the way he does, almost treating her approaches to help and be there for him as unwanted.
it just makes sense, even if it seems to wanda that there is more here than what he tells. these 'circumstances' that are 'complicated to get into'. things from her future that will come to pass, but should not be burdened by.
a future where natasha is dead?
for all their most recent conflict with the avengers splitting up, she was vaguely aware that natasha changed her mind. natasha, who took her in, who helped her assimilate to life in america, taught her the ropes, despite her grief and moodiness; natasha is dead? the way her emotions cave in is from the shock, her eyes only now glancing up to look at clint's face proper, tears threatening to spill; she feels empty, devoid of anything, because this is how clint feels.
standing up (she somehow finds herself still attached to the laws of gravity, by some miracle), wanda pulls her hand away from clint's, but draws only a few steps closer to lean down, to wrap her arms around his shoulders. )
I'm here.
(i don't know what help looks like. for something like that.
when wanda lost pietro, nothing felt right. nothing would ever make it right. what does help for that look like? she didn't know, either, back then. now, she still doesn't know. just putting one foot in front of the other, one day at a time. but clint was there, as was steve, vision, natasha. maybe she won't be able to help at all with these feelings, with this reality that awaits her in the future, that awaits them back home, but—
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She's not one of his kids. She's been an adult since they met. But she's still family far as he's concerned.
And maybe all of that means he's been too protective. She's offering help. She's offering her place as friend and family to try and help him, even if he can't see how, even if he can't see much more than the occasional pinprick of light at the end of the long long tunnel. But he can't just dump years of shit on her. He won't do that to her. He can't tell her that she's going to be on the run and fall in love and lose that love, that she and half the entire universe are going to get wiped from existence, that he didn't know what to do with himself with an empty house and empty heart. Maybe if he explains that they might all be back, that Bruce did it, he thinks they did it, that the sacrifices weren't in vain, whatever it takes--
His body slouches forward, both closer to her, and letting himself feel all the weight. Five years have felt like fifty. What does he do with this person he's become? Stay on the path, or try to see what's salvageable underneath? If they're all here forever (dubious claim but so far have found no reason to dispute it), whether alive or dead, then doesn't he owe it to himself to make something better? Fuck, doesn't he owe that to Laura?
Doesn't he owe that to--]
Natasha's dead.
[He squeezes Wanda's hand like a lifeline, his eyes darting between her face and a middle distance.]
The circumstances are... [He makes to rub at his face with his free hand but doesn't quite get there before he just makes an empty gesture with it instead, falling heavy back to the table after.] complicated to get into, but. Yeah. She's dead. It's not that I can't tell you these things. [They're hard. They're enormous and they're hard. But he can tell her. If he means to, he can muster through it. She can easily feel the pain, fresh and vibrant, without having to look. It radiates off him. He was falling before he got here; it'd be irony to die that way after Nat was determined to make sure he didn't fall. His throat wants to close up, voice getting quiet and thick.] I don't...don't know what help looks like. For something like that.
[And now she knows. Someone else she was close to, gone. Does he qualify that they got to spend a few more years together before that? On the run, sure, but free of the Raft? But if Wanda hasn't experienced that, does it matter? What does any of it mean here? What good, then, does it do Wanda to know that tidbit of information except hurt her?
It's a whisper, it's even quieter than a whisper:] I'm sorry.
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it just makes sense, even if it seems to wanda that there is more here than what he tells. these 'circumstances' that are 'complicated to get into'. things from her future that will come to pass, but should not be burdened by.
a future where natasha is dead?
for all their most recent conflict with the avengers splitting up, she was vaguely aware that natasha changed her mind. natasha, who took her in, who helped her assimilate to life in america, taught her the ropes, despite her grief and moodiness; natasha is dead? the way her emotions cave in is from the shock, her eyes only now glancing up to look at clint's face proper, tears threatening to spill; she feels empty, devoid of anything, because this is how clint feels.
standing up (she somehow finds herself still attached to the laws of gravity, by some miracle), wanda pulls her hand away from clint's, but draws only a few steps closer to lean down, to wrap her arms around his shoulders. )
I'm here.
( i don't know what help looks like. for something like that.
when wanda lost pietro, nothing felt right. nothing would ever make it right. what does help for that look like? she didn't know, either, back then. now, she still doesn't know. just putting one foot in front of the other, one day at a time. but clint was there, as was steve, vision, natasha. maybe she won't be able to help at all with these feelings, with this reality that awaits her in the future, that awaits them back home, but—
she's here. )