The Shadow [a marvel fanfiction]

Restitution: Chapter Three

Marie was curled up in a chair on the front porch, watching the sun begin to peak through the trees. She wrapped herself in a blanket to ward off the early-morning chill. She had woken up hours ago, gasping and sweating from a nightmare just as the black of night faded to dark blue and purple hues.

She thought it would be completely silent outside. There was always something happening in New York. Here, she expected to be met by a foreign stillness. But the land was alive. The chirps of grasshoppers were replaced by the soft twitter of birds, who rustled leaves as they took flight. Even the grass moved as dew glinted on the blades.

Marie burrowed further under her blanket. It was just as cold as New York, though. Her body was stiff from squeezing into the chair and her fingers and toes were chilled, but she couldn't bring herself to move. It was peaceful here. She didn't have to dwell on her nightmares, she could just watch the sun rise.

She turned her head as the door creaked open. Clint stepped out with a cup of tea. Marie grinned and held the warm mug through the blanket. She blew at the wisps of steam.

"Thanks," she said quietly. Clint sat in the chair next to her. It was strange to see him in sweatpants and a faded shirt, and not his S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform. At first, she barely recognized him.

"How long have you been up?"

Marie sipped her tea. "Maybe an hour or-or two."

"Another nightmare?" He asked. Marie nodded and gripped the mug tighter.

"At least I can sleep, you know? I'm sleeping but I-I-I keep watching the battle. Over and over and over again. That's what-That's what wakes me up."

Clint stared at the trees. The sun was rising now; a golden light bathed the yard and it was painfully beautiful to watch. The pair sat in silence. Marie finished her tea and let Clint think.

"What is it you want?" Clint finally looked at her. "How can I help you? What do you need? I thought—Well, I assumed just being here would fix it, like it does for me. But it's been three weeks and you've still got bags under your eyes."

Marie tried to crack a grin. "Maybe that's my-my new look."

Clint ran a hand through his hair and Marie sighed.

"I don't-I don't know," she said slowly, tracing her finger around the rim of her mug. "All I wanted was for things to-to-to be like they were before New York. But they won't ever be. And-And that's okay, right? Being here, with your-with your family, has been nice. I've never had some-something like this before."

Marie paused and swallowed thickly. "My father, he-he was a fixer. He was always trying to-to-to fix me. I was always broken, but I think that-I think that's just me. I'll never not have asthma or this-or this stupid stutter, and now I'll always have my-my-my powers and these nightmares. And I'm okay with that. I'm okay. You and Laura taught me that."

Marie reached over and grabbed Clint's hand. "Thank you, for-for everything."

Clint smiled and squeezed her hand. "Come here, you stuttering little sap."

Marie laughed as he yanked her into a hug. Her empty mug wedged between her ribs and her elbow dug into Clint's stomach, but he only held her tighter. Marie wiggled out of his grasp.

"That hurt," she whined. Clint grabbed her blanket, which had fallen to the ground, and threw the jumbled mass over her head.

"You can help me make breakfast."

Marie stumbled inside, tossing her blanket onto the couch and leaving her mug on the counter. She followed Clint out the back door and towards the barn. Wet grass tickled her bare feet and stuck to her skin and she grimaced.