Chapter 38 – Bye, Bye Miss American Pie
"The quinjet leaves in an hour, Lia. If you're not packed and ready to go by then you can fly your lazy ass there yourself." Steve huffed as he flipped a pancake at the stove, smacking Ophelia's hand away when her fingers inched towards the growing stack next to him.
"No need to get angsty." Ophelia drawled, rolling her eyes at the stressed super-soldier. "And what was that you said about language?"
"It doesn't count when I'm talking to you," Steve grumbled under his breath.
"Come on! Couldn't you wait five more minutes to get a plate or something?" Steve cried out as Ophelia finally stole three pancakes from the pile. Her cheeks bulging like a chipmunk as she skipped away from her irritated teammate.
"Sorry gramps, I'm in a rush. I got packing to do, remember?" She mumbled with a full mouth as she walked out of the kitchen, her turned back hiding a mischievous smirk at the muffled scream of frustration coming from her normally calm friend.
"If you're not careful you're gonna give Steve an aneurysm, Lia," Bruce announced as he met up with Ophelia. His mouth twisted to the vague reflection of a smile, the only thing he seemed capable of recently.
"Better an aneurysm than the guilty look he always gets when he thinks no one is looking." Ophelia sighed, keeping her head held high with a determination to appear fine.
"Don't bail on me today, kid," Bruce said with a sad smile, half-joking and half-serious in his concern.
"I could never," Ophelia replied wryly, coming to a stop in front of Wanda's recovery room in the med bay area.
"I thought you were gonna go pack, Delacour." The scientist teased as he leaned against the door frame to the witch's room, his eyebrow raised in question.
"I'll do that later." Ophelia flippantly waved off as Bruce narrowed his eyes at her. "I got better things to do right now."
"I will pack I promise!" Bruce continued to look at her with narrowed eyes.
"Your lack of faith in me is insulting Brucie." Ophelia groused as she shoved her way into the recovery room, ignoring Bruce's huff of amusement.
But it was an unwelcome sight that she had arrived at.
Sat innocently in the middle of the hospital bed was Wanda. Her hair falling in careless tresses that looked effortlessly beautiful, an unconscious smile on her face that was barely noticeable to any who didn't look.
But the red glow of her fingers as she levitated a few building blocks that Pietro has given her in the air caused Ophelia's mind to instantly go back to the memories. The pain of bygone years filtering into her thought just when she thought everything was fine.
"I'm so proud of you, Fili." The slimy voice of her dead father whispered in the deep recesses of her memories.
Ophelia violently flinched back as she came back to reality, her back hitting the door in an unconscious attempt to escape.
Wanda's head snapped in Ophelia's direction at the sound of her entrance, her face automatically brightening in her presence before falling at the brawler's expression.
"Ophelia?" Wanda whispered hesitantly, lowering her hands slowly as their red glow faded and the blocks fell to the bed with a quiet thud.
"It's okay." Ophelia forced out in a shaky voice, taking shuddering breathes as she tried to stifle the panic building in her chest. "I'm okay just...give me a minute alright?"
With every breath Ophelia took she forced herself to keep her gaze locked on Wanda. Refamiliarize herself with the Sokovian girl whose eyes shone with none of the malice and anger from before. But instead emitted a deep concern and muted panic for her well-being.
'This was not the enemy, Wanda is not my enemy,' Ophelia chanted in her head, focusing on the concern she could feel through the link. This was not someone who wanted to hurt her.
"I'm sorry about-" Ophelia cleared her throat roughly, sheepishly rubbing the back of her head as the panic began dying down and she could breathe normally again.
"You don't need to apologise." Wanda interrupted with a firm voice, sat up straight as she fidgeted with her fingers nervously. "You did nothing wrong."
The silence that fell between them was stifling, filled with unsaid words of regret and promise as the two girls remained on each side of the room.
"Look, this doesn't mean-"
"You don't need to-"
A breathy laugh came from Ophelia's mouth when the two girls simultaneously spoke, her lips twisted to a wry smile as she closed the distance and took a seat in front of Wanda on the hospital bed.
"You first." The Sokovian offered softly.
"This doesn't mean I don't forgive you anymore." Ophelia sighed; her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to find the right words to say.
"That hasn't changed, but I've got a lot of fucked up shit in my head that you brought back up. And that's something I need to work on." Ophelia firmly said a confidence to her voice that Wanda wished she had as she flinched at the reminder of what she had done.
"So, my powers are like...a trigger for you?" Wanda hesitantly asked.
"I guess that's one way of putting it." Ophelia hummed, "But again, that's something I gotta work on. I am not depriving myself of hot witchy juju spells just cuz PTSD is a bitch."
"Oh my- I'm not even a witch." Wanda rolled her eyes as the mood lightened from its previous heavy state.
"Yeah, and Thor isn't a thousand-year-old frat boy," Ophelia grinned back at her.
"You know, by Asgardian standards, I'm technically younger than you!" A faint voice bellowed from the floor above them as Ophelia and Wanda exchanged looks of bewilderment.
"Stop eavesdropping you perv!" Ophelia yelled to the ceiling as Wanda shook her head in exasperation.
"Don't forget to pack!" Thor edged in before loud thuds from the ceiling indicated that he had run off.
"And what do you mean by 'hot witchy juju spells'?" Wanda air quoted with a raised eyebrow and glint in her eyes. Her Sokovian accent was somehow thicker as she tried to mimic Ophelia's French tones.
"You were the one who threw me up against a wall when we first met," Ophelia teased with a faux scandalised expression on her face, letting out a cackle as Wanda gained a scowl that she found cute more than intimidating.
"It wasn't like that!" A flustered Wanda said as her cheeks gained a rosy hue.
"Whatever you say, ma belle." Ophelia simply said with a barely concealed grin.
"It wasn't!" Wanda insisted.
"I don't know much about Sokovian customs, but in my country, we at the very least ask for drinks first." Ophelia teased as Wanda groaned out of embarrassment, collapsing back onto the hospital bed as her hands covered her face.
"I hate you." Her muffled voice came from behind her covered face.
"Menteur (Liar)." Ophelia simply replied, poking her left cheek for emphasis.
"On the contrary, you're gonna be bored to tears without me here." Ophelia faux swooned, lying her back on Wanda's extended legs as she grinned up at her.
"Oh no, how will I go on with my life?" The witch deadpanned in a monotone voice.
"The offer to come is still open, you know." Ophelia nonchalantly pointed out, hiding how much she wanted her to come. "Laura was fine with extending an invitation to you."
"Aside from the fact that it's a funeral for someone I don't really know, I kinda need a machine to breathe at the moment." Wanda drawled as she gestured to her full-body, taking care to point to the breathing apparatus attached to her nostrils.
After a brief scoff of amusement, Ophelia's expression died as the time to leave for the funeral preparations came closer. In this little room with Wanda, she could somehow allow herself to stay in the moment. Nothing else mattered except the grumpy Sokovian with the bad habit of brooding.
"I understand it." Wanda's fingers played with the IV drip attached to her hand as she stared at the ceiling.
"You want to stay in the fantasy you've built in your head because it's too painful to acknowledge that they're gone. And for a while, you even delude yourself into thinking they're still here. But the world never shuts up with its reminders." A tinge of bitterness entered her voice at this as Ophelia's propped herself up by her elbow to face Wanda.
"With every reminder, the fantasy becomes harder to maintain until eventually it just collapses under the weight of itself. You're exposed to the pain again and it's even worse than before."
She didn't even realise it, but the tightness in her chest that she had valiantly ignored over the last week came undone with such casual ease that Wanda might as well have been her puppet master.
Not a single tear fell from her eyes, their permanent red-rimmed state too exhausted for any more tears. And despite the unnatural stillness that had overcome the other girl, Wanda could feel the raw nerve endings of her grief as acutely as if it were her own.
"You don't need to be the strongest one in the room all the time. It's okay to hurt. It's okay to want to run away from it."
"I feel like it makes me a coward," Ophelia muttered roughly, playing with the retracted gauntlets on her forearms as she avoided Wanda's gaze. "It's his funeral, the last chance I have to say goodbye to him. But all I want to do is get the hell away."
"You're not a coward for being afraid," Wanda replied, and with her eyes lowering she noticed how close the brawler's hands hand was to her own.
Inch by inch, the Maximoff twin edged her pinkie finger closer to Ophelia's.
After a moment's hesitation, Wanda stretched out her inch and curled it around the other girl's. Her anxiety died down as the brawler curled her pinkie around Wanda's as well. Squeezing twice as a silent reassurance.
"It only makes you human."
Suddenly the peace that had fallen between them was interrupted by Pietro speeding through the door with a loud bang. The silver blur from his enhanced speed fading as he rushed in with a disturbed expression.
"I would avoid the common room if I were you," Pietro warned with his hand ruffling his manic hair.
Ophelia quickly darted her hand away from Wanda's at the speedster's entrance, fighting back a blush as she felt like she had been caught breaking a rule.
"Stark and Rogers are either about to kill one another or kiss. And I don't know which of the two is more horrifying to walk in on." He shuddered violently.
"Ugh, why is it always them," Ophelia grumbled as she stood up from her place next to Wanda, catching her eye-roll at the mention of Tony.
"Rogers said something about you needing to pack by the way."
✺
Barton Farm, Missouri
Forty minutes until the service began.
Ophelia had never felt pain quite like this before.
When her father died, it was by her hand. And despite the feeling of being just as much of a monster as him, Ophelia never really regretted ending his life. If not for her own sake, then for her mother who suffered under his rule.
When she thought Louis was dead, she believed that had also been by her hand. The whirlwind of self-hatred, guilt and grief giving birth to a vigilante who made the criminal underworld her own personal hit list that never ran out of names to cross out.
But Clint's death left her feeling... empty.
Or was it unfulfilled? Frustrated? Aimless.
There was nothing to cling onto with this death, she had even grown too tired to blame herself for what had happened. And like she had told Tony and Pietro; it was useless to blame anyone for his death.
It was everyone's fault.
It was no one's fault.
Ophelia felt the stirrings of panic once more at the murmuring voices of strangers in a space she thought belonged to Clint. The need to escape bubbled under the surface once more, as Natasha sent a pleading look, gesturing to an emotionless Laura.
It was almost expected at this point when a faint calmness washed through her mind, tempering her heartbeat back to appropriate speeds. Giving her a brief reprieve from the insanity of her own emotions.
'Thank you.' Ophelia thought to a certain Sokovian witch back in New York.
Cutting through the milling crowd, Ophelia hovered behind Laura as she ushered the heavily pregnant widow to the car outside. Just looking at the once-vibrant woman caused a wave of nausea to bristle in her stomach.
Empty composure that seemed almost always on the brink of breaking and a keen sense of helplessness as her gaze fell on each of her children.
Or at least one of them.
Cooper was already seated in the black car at the window side, a numb and tired look on his face as bloodshot eyes met Ophelia's. Even at the tender age of 10, Cooper's shoulders were slumped with an invisible weight.
"Lila..." Laura hoarse voice let out as she craned her neck to look around for her daughter.
"I'll find her, don't worry," Ophelia reassure, giving a wry smile that was tentatively returned by the mourning woman as she retreated into the farmhouse.
God, it was torture to be in this house.
The walls were lined with pictures of him, the fridge dotted with children drawings of a happy family. His jacket carelessly thrown over the coat rack, his shoes stacked up in front of the front door.
"Lila?" Ophelia called out as she rose up the flight of stairs from the living room to the second floor.
Peering into different rooms in search of her, it was only until she reached a door labelled 'Lila's Room' in purple that she found who she was looking for.
The six-year-old girl was curled up into the tightest ball she could make, her head pressed feverously to her knees as her shoulders shook from her sobs.
Nat's bright hair shone in the dark room as she brought the crying girl to her lap, her hand rubbing the space between her eyes in stress.
But as Nat's head snapped in Ophelia's direction, there was a touch of resignation to her frown. The only thing that would make things better was if Clint came back.
"Lila?" Ophelia gently approached, crouching to their level as Lila's tear-stained face lifted hesitantly. "I know it hurts, but your mama is worried about you."
"I don't wanna go." Lila whimpered through shuddering breath.
"How about this? If you go, I'll teach you how to use a bow and arrow." Nat offered in that soft voice that she only ever seemed to use with Lila and Cooper.
Her resolve wavered at the offer, but it wasn't enough to make her come out of her ball.
"I have a surprise planned for today. If you don't go, you'll miss out." Ophelia hummed, tapping Lila's nose as she looked up at the brawler with a curious expression.
"What surprise?" She asked shyly.
"Well if I tell you it won't be much of a surprise, hmm?" She retorted with a quirked eyebrow, and after a few minutes of consideration, she lowered her knees.
"You promise to teach me?" She directed to Nat who gave her a solemn nod.
It was a silent look she directed to Ophelia, but one that she immediately understood.
"I promise there's a surprise." She reassured, and with that Lila stood up abruptly. Her black puffy dress wrinkled up slightly as she wordlessly waited for Natasha to stand up and hold her hand.
"Is there actually a surprise?" Nat whispered in the brawler's ear as she walked Lila to the car.
"Well, now there is," Ophelia whispered back with a silent groan of defeat.
The service itself faded to the background for Ophelia.
A half hours' drive away from the Barton farmhouse, there was a hill. It took up the horizon with its rising crest and stood opposite the Ozark mountain range that Missouri was famous for.
Undoubtedly the highest point in the surrounding area, it was the type of place Clint would have loved and Laura knew that. To look down and see the world unfold around him.
Everything seemed to blur around her as Ophelia focused solely on the headstone in front of her. The only thing centring her in the physical world was Thor's hand pressed against the small of her back. The only solid thing she could feel.
Clinton Francis Barton
1971 – 2015
Husband, Father, Partner, Avenger
The Avengers were sat in the front row of the service next to the Barton family, all subdued in their mood. Try as he might to hide it, Ophelia caught Tony swipe a lone tear from his cheek as his eyes were morbidly drawn to the headstone. Steve resting a hand to his shoulder in a rare display of solidarity between them.
Fury placed himself right behind her, his presence a silent anchor to reality as Maria bowed her head out of respect for her fallen friend.
'Husband, Father, Partner, Avenger,' Ophelia mused to herself, lost in memories of the past.
Flashback
New York, New York City, 2012
"Bullshit. This is such bullshit." Ophelia growled as she paced back and forth in the SHIELD assigned apartment she had been given.
The World Security Council had just given their third demand to have access to her file now, mere days after approving a missile that would have wiped out New York City.
"Why do they have to use so many dumb words? Who even speaks like this." She huffed, collapsing on a worn couch as she tried for the umptieth time to read the document Fury had forwarded to her.
Despite living in London for the last six years, Ophelia still had trouble with English at times. The language had so many backward rules and contradicted itself so many times that she just got annoyed with it.
"C'est pas possible (It's not possible)." Ophelia sighed, throwing the document onto the coffee table in front of her. Frustrated tears filling in her eyes as the feeling of inadequacy bubbled in her stomach.
A tentative knock on her door broke the teenager out of her self-imposed exile.
"What?" She snapped with irritation as she opened the door for one Clint Barton to walk through.
"I only wanted to see if you'd be down for a spar." He asked in confusion at the icy reception he was getting from her.
"Sorry, it's just the WSC on my ass again." Ophelia groaned, absentmindedly picking up her deck of cards to shuffle again. "The legal jargon is getting to me."
A curious look of contemplation crossed Clint's face as he looked closer at Ophelia's scowl.
"We've only just met, but if you need any help, I'm here," Clint said with an earnest look on his face, practically shining with sincerity. Perhaps that's why Ophelia did the uncharacteristic thing and didn't push him away for once.
"These words, they're...déroutant (confusing). I can't understand them." Ophelia explained, handing the thirty-page document to Clint.
"English is a bitch to learn, I get it." Clint nonchalantly offered as he began flicking his way through the pages. At her look of confusion, he elaborated.
"You think this little thing is for show?" He joked, pointing to the barely noticeable hearing aid tucked behind one of his ears. "You go most of your life using ASL cuz your family's broke and can't afford shoes let alone hearing aids. But as soon as I get to SHIELD suddenly everyone expects me to speak English around them."
"The only person who uses ASL with me is Nat." He concluded before turning back to Ophelia with a crinkle in his eye. "They're basically fighting over who gets to have you as their weapon, like a big game of tug of war but the players are all politicians."
"No one else uses ASL for you?" Ophelia asked, saving her irritation with the WSC for another time.
"No one else uses French for you?" Clint shot back teasingly. "How about this then, I teach you a little ASL, so you stop feeling bad for me."
"Only if I teach you a little French in return." Ophelia countered.
"We got ourselves a deal then, kid." Clint grinned, spitting on his hand before holding it out for Ophelia to shake.
"Gross, dude." Ophelia grimace, picking up one of his fingers with the tips of her own and shaking it in agreement.
Flashback end
The sky had darkened considerably as the service neared its ending, a cool twilight blue replacing the cloudless skies from before.
As the sun finally started dipping on the horizon, Ophelia straightened her back in preparation.
A surprise.
It was more of a surprise to her that she was even contemplating doing this, but she made a promise to Lila. And somewhere in the back of her mind, Ophelia thought Clint might appreciate this one last gesture of gratitude.
Aurora Borealis. Or more commonly known as the Northern Lights. As a child, Ophelia held a fascination for those brilliant lights in the sky. Even more so when she learnt what caused them.
It was clouds of sun particles from the remnants of solar storms caught in the Earth's atmosphere that created their otherworldly beauty.
In simpler terms? It was a star thing, which meant it was an Ophelia thing.
She reached out as if embracing an old friend, the entire universe her kingdom. She could feel the fixed presence of the sun, the violent storms on its surface, and, as she pictured in her head, the celestial glow of thousands of colours in the sky slowly appearing in view.
When gasps of awe filled the air, Ophelia knew there was at least one thing she could do to give Clint the farewell he deserved.
Ophelia opened her eyes to look up at the shimmering clash of greens and blues that hung in the sky. The pinkish hue unveiled the clouds like a curtain to oblivion. The heavens themselves opening up to reveal what was on the other side for a split second. She imagined he was one of the millions of stars winking in the sky, looking down on them from the Great Beyond.
"Goodbye, Katniss." She whispered under her breath, feeling Thor's hand tighten on her back and Nat lace their hands together.
✺
It was a silent tower that the Avengers returned to.
The team had tried to stay at the Farmhouse after the funeral if only so Laura had extra hands to help her with the kids and coping with the new workload. A need to feel useful again, to have some purpose after the loss of one of their own.
But the simple truth of it was that Laura didn't want them there.
Not out of spite, or hatred. It might have been easier to accept if she just hated them.
"I haven't had the chance to get to grips with everything that's happened," Laura explained as she nursed a cup of ginger tea. Carefully lowering herself in an armchair that faced the statuesque heroes.
"This one's going to come into the world without a father," Laura choked up as she caressed her swollen stomach. "I need to be a mother to him, I can't break down like I want to, I need to be there for him. And for that, I just need some time to myself."
Nat looked particularly upfronted with Laura's decision, opening her mouth to offer another argument before she gave the redhead a soft smile.
"It won't be forever, just until I come to terms with it." She reassured.
Leading them all back to the tower which lately felt more like a prison than the home she had once called it. Going their separate ways as soon as the quinjet touched down on the landing pad. The Avengers couldn't get away from each other fast enough.
A sinking feeling in her stomach remained persistent at the realisation that something had irreversibly broken with Clint's death. Splinter cracks forming as the heroes tried to avoid each other stubbornly after the funeral.
"Screw it, I have bitches to confront." Ophelia huffed as she hopped off her bed with a scowl. Marching purposefully to the elevator to pick her first victim.
"If I die from an irritated Nat, I feel like I've lived a good life." She shrugged nonchalantly before pressing the button for the forty-first floor.
As the doors opened, the brawler imagined that she was in a horror movie. No one went to Nat's floor and came out the same. One time, Tony had barged his way in on the grounds that he owned the building and wanted to see her 'evil lair'.
He still flinches every time she holds a sharp object in his presence.
When the faint sounds of a Don Mclean song echoed from one of the unmarked rooms on Nat's floor, Ophelia frowned in confusion.
"Okay, less horror movie, more hillbilly I guess." She shrugged before opening the smooth oak door to reveal a high-quality ballet studio. The open airiness of the room and the floor to ceiling mirrors not leaving a single place to hide.
And right in the middle of the studio, Nat was sat cross-legged on the floor as she played with the arrow necklace around her neck.
'So, bye, bye Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
And them good ol' boys were drinking whiskey and rye.'
"Singin', "This'll be the day that I die, this'll be the day that I die." Ophelia sang as she announced her presence.
Natasha's head snapped in Ophelia's direction as she came into the studio, making sure to take her shoes off before she walked in and took a seat next to the Russian.
"You know this song?" Natasha asked with a nostalgic look in her eyes.
"I thought American Pie was an actual dessert when I was a kid. I watched the movie first, and then got traumatised within the first ten minutes." Ophelia explained as Nat suppressed a grin of amusement.
"Then I listened to the song, less traumatised but I still never got any pie." She grumbled as the Russian quietly snickered next to her.
"Today sucked," Nat announced after a beat of silence, her head falling to Ophelia's shoulder as they watched themselves in the mirror. "But the northern lights were beautiful. He'd make a big deal out of that if he was here."
"Oh my god, he'd never shut up about them." Ophelia joked; the gentle lift of her lips accompanied by the redhead.
"I tried to find Ultron." Natasha abruptly said, her emerald green eyes darkening as her tongue darted out to swipe her bottom lip. "Took the nearest quinjet I could find, and tracked his signal to a random forest on the outskirts of Sokovia. You wanna know what I found?"
Ophelia looked down at Natasha as she took her head off her shoulder and turned to look up at her.
"Vision had already gotten there. 'It's done.' He said. I don't think he understood why I was so angry that day." The redhead mulled.
"Mission over. Except it wasn't. Not really, because what use is an Avenger if they can't avenge?" The Russian clenched her jaw tightly as American Pie kept playing in the background.
"What use is family if all they do is leave you in the end?" She bitterly added.
"I need a mission, a target, something to do before I lose my mind and I won't find that here, Lia." Nat forced out through gritted teeth.
"You're leaving?" Ophelia breathed out in horror.
"After Sokovia, the Avengers aren't getting missions any time soon until all this dies down. Staying in this tower and just waiting for someone to snap? I can't do that!" She cried out.
Just as Ophelia was about to argue back a stray thought hit her, something she had planned just in case the tower became unbearable to live in. Probably during one of Tony and Steve's screaming matches.
"What if you just had to wait until someone got better?" Ophelia asked with a growing smile as Natasha looked at her in confusion.
"Huh?" The Russian asked as Ophelia clambered to her feet, hopping on one leg as she slipped her shoes on.
"I have an idea!" Her trailing voice yelled out as she raced to the elevator, impatiently pressing the button to the med bay as she muttered 'come on,' under her breath.
As the doors opened, the brawler sprinted out with a manic grin, crashing into Pietro as he held a tower of snacks in his arms.
"Are you serious?!" He shrieked, using his enhanced speed to catch the food before it hit the ground. "Is there no common decency in this tower?!"
"Wanna run away to France with me?" She asked a bewildered Wanda as she skid to a stop in front of her bed.
"N-now?! It's 11 pm, Ophelia, I need my sleep." Wanda questioned, a faint look of amusement crossing her face at the eager puppy-like look on the brawler's face.
"You can sleep in France." Ophelia waved off.
"You know, I'm beginning to see a trend with you and your elaborate bullshit ideas." The Sokovian muttered under her breath while the brawler practically vibrated with excitement.
A/N: I am never taking a break that long again, that was just unbearable. Sorry for being gone for more than two weeks I think, it was a bad combination of the first week of school and the worst flu I have ever had. I hope this big ass chapter makes up for the break. But I'm back! With a new update schedule as well, keep a look out on Wednesdays for new chapters from now on!
Okay so this chapter was a farewell to Clint who at least got a funeral unlike someone else (I'm still mad about that). The cracks in the team dynamics are already showing from his death and Civil War is not gonna help with that at all so stay tuned for that story arc. I don't know if anyone caught it, but the fantasy Wanda is talking about references her whole hex debacle in WandaVision. Wanda and Ophelia are two very different people but if there's one thing they have in common it's the fact that they're both runners. Confronting trauma really isn't their thing.
Next chapter we have Grandpa Lucien, a team holiday gone wrong, and a blonde widow makes her first appearance.