In a freak accident, the Avengers and Catherine Barton are beamed to a different dimension-- a historical musical set in the heart of the American Revolution. They meet Janet Levin, who has been living in said dimension for years unable to return ho...
Instantly, Clint's expression went blank. The sparkle disappeared from Nat's eyes, replaced by her spy resting-face as she automatically concealed all her emotions. Hamilton's words hit us like a truck, and stunned us into silence.
"I... There's something you should probably have, Barton," Hamilton went on, "They gave it to me--Washington figured I was the most likely to see you next. I'll go get it." He left the room without another word. None of us spoke.
Clint's fists were clenched tightly and his jaw was set--if I'd been closer to him, I'm sure I would've heard him grinding his teeth. Janet had almost curled in on herself--Cap had an arm around her, and Natasha rested a hand on her shoulder.
Me, I just tried not to think about it. Cat's resourceful. Maybe they're just... in hiding, or something. Maybe one of them got hurt, and they couldn't get back, but--it's been five years, and why wouldn't they have let Hamilton know--? I stopped there. Thinking really only made it worse. Unfortunately, it was something I was all too good at.
"Here." Hamilton came back in, carrying an envelope in one hand and a wooden case containing one of Natasha's pistols in the other, "An artillery captain found this on the battlefield and brought it to the General. Washington decided it was probably Christopher's, considering... you know, you're from the future." He handed the box to Clint, who stared at it in disbelief. "I'm sorry."
"Dammit." Clint closed the box abruptly, putting it aside and storming from the room. Natasha stayed silent, her face stoic, but I could see tears building in her eyes. Bruce held tightly to the chair in front of him, and Steve held Janet close. In any other situation, I might have teased them. But right now? We all need comfort, in our own unique ways.
Thor left, following Clint, I think, and Hamilton stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, still holding the envelope.
I sat down in the chair Bruce was holding on to.
I need a drink. I seriously need to stop thinking like this. It's war. People die. They both went out doing something they loved--fighting for what they believe in--they're in a better place now. Right?
Natasha moved towards Hamilton as if in a trance, easing the envelope out of his hands. It had been opened before, so it cost her no effort to take out the single piece of paper that was inside.
"On Tuesday the twenty-seventh," she read slowly, her voice monotone and almost emotionless, "Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens and one other American soldier [Christopher Barton] were killed in a gunfight against British troops in South Carolina. These troops had not yet received word from Yorktown that the war was over."
She paused, and I heard Janet choke back a sob.
"As this occurred in a battle which ended in retreat, we were unable to recover anything other than Lieutenant Colonel Laurens's steed and Barton's firearm, of which the latter was sent with this letter so as to be returned to whatever family of Barton's remains."
Automatically my gaze was drawn to the wooden box, and then to the door through which Clint and Thor had disappeared.
"As you may know, Lieutenant Colonel Laurens was engaged in recruiting three-thousand men for the first all-black military regiment. The surviving members of this regiment have been returned to their masters."
Natasha trailed off, wordlessly handing the letter back to Hamilton.
It's a war, I told myself for the millionth time, the road to success is a bumpy one. Except this isn't a bump, it's a freaking mountain. We lost one of our best fighters-- heck, one of our best friends. She was like family to all of us, and now...
Geez, I really need a drink.
- - -
"She was a brave fighter, Barton," Thor stated, "she died in battle, that's all a warrior can ask for."
"I think I'd prefer not dying," I muttered under my breath.
"Shut up, Tony," Steve growled softly, "you're not helping."
We were sitting in a small circle in Hamilton's living room. Hamilton had retreated to his study, and Janet had disappeared off to who-knows-where--presumably off to find Elizabeth, or to have some time alone.
Leaving us back where we'd started--just the six of us.
"What do we do now?" Nat asked.
"I don't know," Steve sighed. "I really don't know."
"I suppose we should continue finding our way home," Bruce suggested, his voice soft but clear, "see if we can scrape together enough tech to get us out of this place."
"And just... leave?" Steve frowned slightly, "that feels... wrong."
"Well, we'll have to leave eventually," I retorted, "I say the sooner we get out of this dump, the better."
"Dammit, Stark, show some respect!" Steve snapped, and I held up my hands in surrender.
"Geez, someone's touchy."
Steve only scowled in response, and there was a momentary silence before Thor spoke up once more.
"Do we know if they found a body? She deserves a proper funeral."
I shook my head.
"That letter said all they found was the gun, and Laurens's horse. It was close to a river, maybe the British--"
"Could you just... stop?" Clint asked, his voice raw. He'd been staring at the ground silently for a lengthy time, but now he lifted his head. His pale blue eyes were moist, and rimmed with red. "Just... Cat is gone, and all you're doing is arguing. Dammit, I should've never let her out of my sight."
He averted his gaze once more, his breathing ragged and heavy.
"Barton... this is not your fault," Steve stated reassuringly, and Clint shook his head.
"How isn't it? I mean, if I'd just dragged her home with us instead of letting her set off on this wild goose chase, she'd be right here with us, probably taunting me about something or other, or proposing some reckless scheme--" he cut off his own sentence, before continuing just above a whisper. "Does it even matter whose fault it is? She's gone."
Natasha had opened her mouth --probably to bring in an argument about how stubborn Cat was and that there would've been no stopping her anyway-- but now she closed it again, her lips thinning into a line.
She's gone.
Clint took a deep breath, and then spoke.
"As far as I'm concerned, we get out of this dimension as quickly as possible."
"Are you sure--" Steve began, but Clint met his gaze with a solid glare, cutting him off.
"Yes, I'm sure. I don't want to be here any longer than necessary."
He took a breath to compose himself, and sighed softly.
"The sooner we're out of here, the better."
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