Summary: It's still Monday, Oct. 30, 2023. Bruce drives Natasha through his adopted town of Bridgewater and on to his house. News travels fast. They have company waiting.
Notes: Yes, it's a big chapter. I tried, but I could not think of a better title without spoiling something.
Part 5: Lunch and Learn
[Monday, Oct. 30, 2023]
It was a pleasant ride to Bridgewater with no real traffic since it was only about 11:00 am on a Monday, and the highway route he took was mostly through the countryside. It didn't hurt that it was Autumn and everything was tinged golden, crimson, and orange, especially the hard maples and oaks. It was good to be away from the muddy pit and construction at the Compound. It was even better to have Natasha finally coming home with him.
Bruce could have taken the second exit and arrived home by a quicker route, but he'd wanted to show her the historic part of the town that he'd adopted or, more actually, that chose to adopt him. There was a bit of a strip mall out by the highway, but "Old Bridgewater" (or just "Downtown" to the locals) was picturesque with a river cutting through the middle of town and several beautiful arched stone bridges and Victorian-style houses and other striking architecture. At one time, it had been a mill town and produced woven fabrics, but those days were far in the past. Now it was a quaint, bedroom community headed toward being an outer, outer suburb with a little light industry and tech to go with some agriculture that had been given a boost by the Decimation. Nat was surprised at the number of people who recognized them and waved from the sidewalk at Bruce. He'd rolled his window down to return their casual waves. She smiled as she realized he genuinely enjoyed the interactions and wondered if any of them were "Hulkies" like Marsha had mentioned.
Bruce laughed when a couple of preschool-aged kids pointed eagerly at their vehicle while they waited on a red light to change. The small girl and boy both broke into bicep-flexing poses. He returned the flexed salutes with one of his own. "Hulk out!" he called to them, and they squealed with glee. "You can always tell the kids who've watched the Go Green Science videos because they get all excited like that. Sometimes I think it's really the HX everyone is impressed with since it's unusually large. To most of the local folks, seeing me or the vehicle isn't such a big deal anymore unless they've just been snapped back, so there's just kind of a wave hello to a neighbor. 'Nice to see you.' I like that about this place." Nat thought he was being modest about some of the attention. She'd spotted a few people sneaking pictures, too. Were they Hulkies?
Just when they seemed to have reached the end of town, he'd taken a turn to the right and paralleled the river as it flowed around a bend. When they came around the curve and the trees no longer obstructed the view, Natasha's mouth dropped open. "You bought a castle?!"
Bruce laughed, "No, it's just a big crazy Victorian-style house with some round rooms and stonework. It has three and a half stories and a finished basement. The mill and warehouse are also Victorian era, like most of Main Street, on the outside, but I have cutting-edge lab and workshop space inside."
"Your house has turrets, Bruce. It's a castle."
"Fine, I'm 'The Beast' in a castle now," he joked, deepening his voice. "I guess that makes you Belle?"
"I'd be your Belle. Got a library?" Natasha teased back.
"Do I have a library?! Have you been impersonated by a Skrull for five years?" He was completely happy to see her smile and joke with him again; it gave him faith they could at least try to make a go of it together this time. He hadn't exactly rebuilt the house and grounds just for her, but he'd put a lot of his love for her into it with the vague hope that someday she'd see it. Now, he hoped she'd fall in love with it as he had.
The gravel crunched under the HX's wheels as Bruce pulled up to the gate in the decorative, yet substantial steel fence surrounding the property. There was a camera, but no gatehouse, and he rolled the window down and pressed in a code on a panel then let it read his left thumbprint. Bruce scanned the driveway ahead that forked off to the house on the left and the old factory complex with the labs on the right. "That's kind of weird. Usually, Sirius is front and center as soon as he hears the car on the gravel. Maybe Vella shut him inside by accident before she left?" he hypothesized. He didn't believe it for a minute, but no need to go on high alert just yet. After the metal gate rolled back, Bruce drove cautiously down the drive and parked the vehicle in its usual spot in the driveway where the pavement circled behind the house, near the back porch.
"Please do me a favor and sit tight for a minute, Nat. I want to see where the dog is." Bruce opened up a panel above the rearview mirror and pointed to a toggle switch. "I want you to flip this when I get out. The vehicle is a bunker if it needs to be. With you just back . . ."
"Do you have a gun in here?" Natasha demanded, her voice all business.
"Promise me you won't get out of the car unless it's 100% necessary."
"80%."
"Deal. I have one of your old Glock 26s in that wooden box in the backseat. It's loaded, 10 shots, but I don't have any extra rounds. Also, I have neighbors within earshot, and I would prefer not to scare them shitless."
"Got it. I promise I will sit tight until things go south."
"Make that 80% south," Bruce reminded her before he left Natasha in the HX. She was as good as her word and engaged the "bunker" mode, which involved a form of nanotech that reinforced the existing plating, extended it down to the ground, and covered the glass and tires. He hadn't told her how to disengage the shielding, so he hoped she'd sit tight and let him deal with whoever was here. He was pretty sure he had an idea whom that might be since no sensors were tripped.
"Sirius! Here, boy!" Bruce called and then whistled. There wasn't the usual happy bark and scrambling of toenails on wood and stone as the big black mix charged out the pet door or careened around the corner of the porch, so Bruce turned to the trees surrounding the backyard. "Barton, if you're holding my dog hostage, don't expect to be invited to lunch."
"I'm not holding it hostage. I just want to talk to whoever you have with you and make sure you aren't getting made a fool of," called a familiar raspy voice from behind him. Clint dropped down from the roof on the far corner of the porch. Bruce was relieved to see he wasn't wearing his "Ronin" gear though he did have his bow and quiver over some basic tac clothing.
"Where is my dog?" Bruce asked, sounding stern.
"It went in the door thing. Hasn't come back out."
"Why would that be?"
"It wasn't exactly staying quiet." Bruce scowled at him. "It may have gotten a little sleeping gas before he went to bed."
"You gassed my dog."
"It'll be fine in about an hour."
"I cannot believe you gassed my dog," Bruce said in a low growl.
"It's a big dog with a bigger bark, okay!?"
Bruce didn't mean to be losing his temper, but now he was pissed off. "He's an overgrown puppy for crying out loud, Clint, not a guard dog. Try a dog treat." He unclenched the fingers of his right hand again and stepped back. It never helped to loom over smaller people unless you really wanted to fight them or make them piss their pants, he reminded himself. No, he really didn't want to fight Clint. "Why the fuck couldn't you just use a phone or wait on the front porch?"
"You could have called. Instead, I had to overhear this from Fury talking to Carol," the archer accused.
Dammit, Danvers, update your security protocols (or quit having Clint do your dirty work if that's what was going on), Bruce thought. "I've been a little too busy making sure Nat was okay. You gassed the dog, so now what do you have planned to do to Natasha, hmm? Because this IS Natasha. OUR Natasha!"
"How the hell do you know? You weren't there on Vormir. You didn't see her let go. That was Natasha," Clint said through gritted teeth. They both stared at each other, filled with grief and anger and guilt. It wasn't necessary, not now, not anymore, but it was hard to let go.
Part of Bruce wanted to step forward and backhand Barton into the next county for all the time he'd had with Natasha that he hadn't and for failing to die when both Bruce and Hulk would have done it in a heartbeat, but Bruce reminded himself that it no longer made any sense to be jealous and petty about any of it. That wasn't Nat who died. It was a horrible sacrifice that still had meaning, but it wasn't one the real Natasha had been fated to make. He straightened back up from the defensive crouch he'd been slipping into and relaxed both hands. Bruce kept his voice low and calm. "Don't remind me. We were both fooled, Clint. If you want to talk to her, put your weapons on the porch. All of them." Clint didn't seem convinced. "Dude, if you don't believe me, call Maximov. All four of us there agreed this is our Nat. Now, I need to see how the pup is and get Natasha settled because she's had one hell of a five years, too. Disarm or get the hell off my property. Now."
After a tense moment, Clint disengaged his bow with a snap and set it along with the quiver on the porch before pulling out two knives and a retractable club of some sort, which Nat later told Bruce was an asp baton.
Bruce checked the Kimoyo Bead on his wrist. "And the throwing spikes."
"I was getting to those," the archer objected gruffly and started unfastening his jacket and arm guards.
"Now, she is not in the best of shape because she was in and out of stasis since seven weeks after the Snap, so don't be a shit and get her upset. She's going to stay here for the next month. After that, we'll see. She really was going to Skype you, by the way."
"Okay. I believe you. I'll try and behave." The archer looked absolutely stressed. Bruce wasn't surprised. He knew exactly what it was like to get his world upended.
Bruce used his Kimoyo Bead to disengage the HX's defensive mode and opened the passenger door for Natasha. "You forgot to mention how to do that," she said in an annoyed tone.
"Still working on that part," Bruce admitted as he helped her down. "Sorry. Go convince your murder twin not to kill you before I call Laura," he said under his breath.
"Clint, you better not have hurt the dog," Natasha scolded as soon as she saw him putting the last of his weaponry on the porch. She really felt almost naked with just her Glock, but she wasn't going to cough it up unless Bruce insisted. He only patted her back and winked down at her. Lucky guess.
"I did not hurt the dog. I love dogs. You should know I love dogs," Clint complained, sounding more like himself.
"Except Rottweilers. You gassed those Rotties at the mansion in Honduras."
"Right, I almost forgot about those. 2011."
"Nope. Try 2009," she said without hesitation. Clint grinned.
"Dog-hater," Bruce said half to himself as he retrieved Nat's bag, her prescriptions, and some parcels from the backseat. He saw she'd somehow stuffed the wooden box into her duffle. He'd explain it later. Bruce stepped onto the porch and placed his hand on a tile that was actually an ID pad and opened the door to the mudroom and then the kitchen. He found Sirius curled up in his bed in the corner. Bruce stroked the dark head gently and the dog half whined in its sleep. "Yeah, Clint's a sucky uncle all right. Sleep it off, Buddy." He set the parcels and luggage down on the table and returned to the back door. "Come on in. Beer is in the fridge. Stew in 30."
Bruce took a moment to wash up and step into a utility pool in the mudroom to clean his feet off as well as wash his hands. Running around without shoes two-thirds of the year was a compromise in the Big Guy's favor, so that was one way he tried to keep the tracks to a minimum or Vella would have put in her two-weeks' notice. He checked out the glass-front, industrial-sized refrigerator. He liked to cook, which was good because he didn't run on the gamma radiation alone. He did big batches of soups, stews, and sauces on Saturdays and froze most of it. He'd set up Irish stew in the crockpot that morning, so all he had to do was put it on high for a bit. He threw in an extra bit of dried thyme for additional iron. That should help cover Natasha's dietary requirements nicely along with the other ingredients. Since becoming a domesticated dad, Tony had been after him to get an Instant-Pot thing, but he already had a pressure cooker so why bother? Knowing Tony, he'd likely get a posthumous birthday present in December.
As Bruce figured out the rest of the menu, Nat and Clint came into the kitchen talking. Bruce was glad he wasn't going to have to put them in opposite corners.
"Really, right after you got back to the Compound?" Clint asked.
"It was nearly four weeks after we got back from killing Thanos. Bruce was in Virginia and Steve had just found a place in Brooklyn. I'm pretty sure I was drugged by the same Skrull, but he looked like Steve at the time. I should have known when he made me soup and a grilled cheese sandwich."
"Yeah, Cap doesn't cook. You can't even trust him to microwave popcorn without ruining half of it."
"All of it," Bruce corrected him as he pulled a large mix for soda bread out of the pantry and collected a mixing bowl, whisk, and a few other ingredients.
"I know. Not my smartest move," Nat admitted and walked around the table to see what Bruce was doing.
"Just your luckiest," Bruce noted as he adjusted the oven to preheat for the soda bread drop biscuits he was throwing together. "I'll show you around in a minute. The half-bath is through that door if you need to wash up or whatever."
Nat found Sirius still curled up in his bed in a corner, "How could you gas this puppy, Barton?"
"That is not a puppy. It's a horse with fangs," Clint groused.
"He's not a year old yet," Bruce explained. "Good boy, Sirius. Uncle Clint owes you a chew toy."
Natasha petted him and the dog opened his eyes and raised its dark spaniel-ish head. He tried to lick her hand, but immediately flopped back down. "Poor baby, you rest. I see he has a white star-shaped patch on his chest, so that explains the name. Are you sure he's not a Newfoundland?"
"He might have some of that in him, too," Bruce admitted. Maybe there was a dog version of 23andMe or someone else had mapped out canine DNA? He made a mental note to check that. "I'm still holding out for Shetland pony."
The archer groaned, "I'm never going to hear the end of this."
"Nope," Bruce said, but he laughed this time as he worked a bit of shredded sharp cheddar into the wet batter for extra iron and vitamin D. It took him a few minutes to locate the parchment paper and set up the baking. The more he worked the right hand, the better, he reminded himself as he tried not to baby it.
"Come on, I want the tour," Natasha said after they'd passed around some local dark ales. The drinks were pretty low on the alcohol scale, so Bruce told her to use her better judgment and quit if she felt like it was hitting her hard. She was only taking small sips, but he still watched her closely. "Do you have help or is it just you taking care of all of this?" she asked him.
Bruce slid the tray into the oven, set the timer, and cleaned his hands off again. "This is way too big of a place for just me to handle. I tried out a couple of matronly sisters, Nancy and Susan Feisterson, former S.H.I.E.L.D. employees who turned out to be Ross plants. That lasted two days, and it took me a week to clean up. Since then, I've been more cautious and pretty fortunate with my regular local folks. Vella is my go-to person who helps out with some cooking and cleaning, running errands, and she does the 'small person' things I can't do that easily when I need help. She's a pro at sewing buttons back on shirts."
He laughed and did Nat. "I imagine there are plenty of those."
"I've gotten better at staying clothed. I also have a couple of high school kids who work on the yard and grounds, and we find things to do in the lab for their school projects. Shonique just headed off to NYU, but Marquand will still be a junior here. I'm sure they're responsible for the Halloween stuff that's magically appeared. I've been pretty lax this year since we're not hosting a party, just trick-o'-treaters. Then Gordy is my full-time staff person who works on the house and grounds and does maintenance that I can't. There's plenty of that to keep up with on the three large buildings and 40 acres here. He's also a retired lab tech who knew my dad back in the day, so I'm lucky to have him."
"Lookout, you're halfway to being Stark, Industries, Doc," Clint teased.
Bruce only snorted and led them through the first floor, which had a balance of larger and smaller spaces, including a sizable library and music room with walls of built-in shelving for books and displays. In the round corner room, there was a beautiful Baldwin piano that had been customized to a larger scale for his hands. He'd been hitting it pretty regularly to work out his injured arm and fingers over the past week or so.
"We were able to save most of the oak and maple paneling, but some of the floors had to be replaced. We added some period-accurate tiles in spots. You'll see those in the entryway. We kept the local carpenters busy for a couple of years. I had to gut a few rooms, so that's where the serious tech upgrades are. The cozier TV and living rooms are in the rear along with some office space and utilities. I try to keep Sirius mostly back there, so he doesn't destroy historical things. It's mainly bedrooms and then storage upstairs."
The larger media/electronics room was like a home theater on steroids and purely an excuse to torment Tony since Pepper had regularly put the kibosh on "useless upgrades" at their lake house. Consequently, there was a lot of BARF tech stored in Bruce's warehouse and a small army of stowed suits, including a full graduated set for Morgan when she was old enough to start tinkering. Bruce planned to tell Nat about all of that at some point. She'd probably be more interested in the AI and Human Interface projects since they were more up her alley, but they'd have time to get to those later. At least, that's what he hoped.
They circled around to the grand entryway and the double-sized front doors with stained glass and a beautifully symmetrical wooden staircase with deeper than normal steps to better accommodate him. There were Halloween and harvest-themed decorations festooning the banisters and other spots. Natasha ran her fingers over the front doors' glass panels. "I want to see these from the outside once it gets dark. I bet they really glow."
"Believe me, they do. It's a Tree of Life design by a local artist. She uses recycled glass and we played around with some radium ware, the depression glass that glows in the dark because it has uranium traces in it. Don't worry, it's not present in dangerous amounts."
The front hall was Grand Victorian in scale because it rose up two impressive stories. "Wow, this looks pretty Downton Abbey to me," Clint said looking around the great space, which had more of the seasonal decor.
"This is the real public area that I agreed to provide for the community when I negotiated to buy the property from the town and restore it. They gave me a break on the zoning to keep it historically accurate and make this part available for community events."
"Like masked balls or what exactly? You said you hosted a Halloween party," Natasha inquired.
"Yes, on the kid-friendly parties and, so far, art shows, concerts and recitals, and wedding receptions, but we did host a debate between town council candidates last year. That was actually kind of fun."
"Isn't all this a little stressful plus a security nightmare?" Natasha surmised.
"Not really. Everything is roped off down here, and I just stay out of the way. Vella and Gordy get more stressed than I do. We've hosted class outings, and I've done some basic science lessons in the labs that involved a production team from the local community college. We did ten lesson plans. The videos are kind of a geeky little hit on YouTube among the middle school and under set."
Clint shook his head. "They've been back less than two weeks and all Nate wants to watch is Go Green."
Bruce winced, "Sorry. I've got some t-shirts around here somewhere. The schools and town handle those official ones. I just approve of the designs."
"Oh, no! Just like the gift store in Stark Tower," Natasha laughed. The Hulk gear had always been a steady seller, especially in the junior and extra-large sizes.
"I did not take you by the Chamber of Commerce Office in town for a reason," Bruce chuckled, blushing a bit.
Clint laughed, "You didn't like pose for a calendar or something?"
"No, but please don't suggest that. I've got enough to handle with the Hulkies as it is."
"Marsha mentioned them," Natasha prodded again. This topic was golden and she was still very curious.
"Yeah, let's just say things haven't completely died down since I left the HX's security disengaged and unlocked on Main Street one time and came back to find a very curvaceous and not well-covered young woman waiting for me once I finished running errands." Clint and Nat both broke out laughing. "Well, it's funny now, but trying to get her out of there wasn't that fun. It took both female officers on the police force and a signed photo and a selfie to do it."
"I saw it: #sexybeastbridgewater," Clint laughed. Nat just raised an eyebrow at Bruce who was flushed very pinkish under his verdant skin tones.
Bruce was saved by the oven timer going off. They gathered around the rustic kitchen table, which had a bench-size chair for Bruce on one side. He had laid out two sizes of bowls and utensils, but Natasha noted everything still matched. He'd clearly settled into his new identity and seemed very comfortable. He'd domesticated himself: Natasha wasn't sure yet how she felt about that. He'd not wrung his hands or fidgeted or paced restlessly once. She missed the nervous energy he used to emit, but it had to have been unimaginably stressful for him, like balancing on a knife's edge every waking minute kind of anxiety and fear of his other half. They reached for the pile of napkins at the same time and touched hands longer than necessary. She stared at his scarred hand, wanting to really examine it. When she looked up, he was smiling at her in the intimate way she'd missed, for which she'd ached.
"Are you handling the ale okay?" he asked her as they sat down with bowls of stew and plenty of warm drop biscuits in a serving basket in the middle of the table. There was a big lump of Irish butter on a plate with a butter knife next to it.
She'd only taken a half dozen sips from the bottle. "I think I'll switch to sports drinks." Nat had noted there were an abundance to choose from visible through the fridge's glass front. Bruce started to get up. "Sit, I'm perfectly capable of picking one out."
Clint just grinned as he stuffed half a butter-covered drop biscuit in his mouth. After he swallowed, he pointed at Bruce. "Get used to it, Buddy, because she is the worst sick or injured person in the world."
Bruce well knew that from years of treating her scrapes, cuts, and various other ailments. She was nearly as virus and bacteria resistant as he was, but there were a few times over the years when he'd about had to sit on her to get her to slow down. Well, now he was big enough to get that to work if he had to do it. "I know man. That's kind of where I went wrong with the Skrull."
"How's that?" Nat asked, more than a little curious again, but wanting to stay somewhat emotionally detached. She had a lot of questions, but she wasn't sure if Bruce and Clint were ready to say things while in the same room.
"Looking back, I can see 'SkrullTasha' had some serious mental health issues. The kind of thing that in a better-organized situation, would have been caught." If he'd put his hurt feelings aside, maybe . . . "I called her out, but I didn't insist." He was surprised at how raw his emotions still were.
"Man, it's in the past now. It's worked out for the better. Let's just leave it at that," Clint concluded. "Some of us would really like to forget the last five years."
Bruce raised his eyebrows and nodded in agreement. "We'll know more once Danvers and Fury have gone over everything with their fine-toothed combs."
"Well, I can tell you she's sent for outside help from her allies. Some leader named Tellos, Talos, something like that."
Bruce snorted his agreement. "Fury told me that's the Skrull General Carol helped back when they first met. That may take a while since they're supposed to be located somewhere beyond the Kree's reach. I get what you're saying, that we should just let this lay, but the implications for how easily we were duped and manipulated, that's something we're going to have to deal with sooner rather than later. There could very well be others just as deeply embedded anywhere."
Nat shook her head. "Well, I'd disagree that this ploy was easy. It took some real planning and above-average talent on this particular operative's part," Nat argued. "I was pretty out of it most of the time, but taking on all my memories and baggage had an impact on him. We talked several times, and sometimes I think it was just because he was lonely and isolated, maybe even a little doubtful. He said more than once he was doing it to save his people, and spy-to-spy, he hoped I'd understand."
"HE?" Clint asked, suddenly catching the pronoun.
"Yes, he," Natasha said and continued. "I can see why you're picking up on the mental health issues, Bruce." He looked at her and thoughtfully nodded. "At the end, I think he had to let go of who he was and playout the script he'd been given. He tried to shape the narrative, but it's like he'd closed off every opportunity except to make that sacrifice or be discovered before the mission was complete." She looked next to her and realized Clint was sitting still with tears sliding down his face.
Bruce reached back and grabbed a roll of paper towels from the counter and set them on the table since the paper napkin Clint had wasn't going to be enough. "It's okay, Bud. You definitely were dealt one of the rottenest hands possible."
Natasha put her arm around Clint's shoulders. He cleared his throat. "Don't get me wrong, man. This is all such a big relief, but in some ways, she, uh, he really was like a clone of you, Nat. I'm not proud of what I was doing, but she pulled me out of it and gave me some hope. I'm still grateful for that."
"I remember him being really upset at being unable to help you because he felt I would have intervened earlier. He couldn't blow his cover and risk you detecting him, but he was completely conflicted," Natasha explained.
"Sometimes things happen the way they do for a reason," Clint said and pulled off a paper towel to blow his nose.
"Mmm-hmm," Bruce agreed. He thought about how complicated the imposter's situation must have been with all of his clashing motives and challenges to his loyalty and ethics. On the one hand, Bruce still felt robbed of what likely would have continued to develop with Natasha, but there was no guarantee what occurred on Vormir would have played out differently with the real Natasha there. He could see her sacrificing herself for Clint and his family and, of course, half the universe. Part of him still insisted he could have saved her and taken on that burden himself, but even that wasn't a guarantee. Maybe it was just a self-indulgent notion on his part. He was the only person strong enough to wield the resulting nanotech Gauntlet and not die. It might have killed Thor and Tony both. Maybe even Carol. For a fleeting instant, he wondered if the Skrull might have manipulated him into making the choices he had to create the perfect combination of mind and body to wield the Infinity Stones. This was the only way, echoed through his head. Bruce shuddered. Clint had a point. They'd gotten their do-over. Time to be thankful and move forward, but that was so much easier said than done. "Would it help to talk about it?"
"I don't know," Clint said in a hoarse voice.
Nat shot a look at Bruce to be careful, but he couldn't stand not saying something. "I know this isn't the same, but I keep having this weird feeling like the Skrull's goals and ours weren't that different or at least they weren't at cross-purposes. I mean, you know that old saying, 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend'? I never had the feeling like there was any malice or that there was ill will involved when it came to defeating Thanos. Yes, there was definitely manipulation, but it was in-character—sorry, but that's how you get me to do things sometimes, Nat." She gave him a small inscrutable smile. "He was good at getting us to do what needed doing. If anything, I can appreciate what you do more now, Natasha. I'm still mad about losing five years of what would have been . . ." he had to unclench his Stone-scarred right fist yet again, "but still we have this second chance because of his and your sacrifice. I want to punch him out, but I also want to thank him. We need to know more about him and how this happened." Bruce would have liked to have at least known the impersonator's name.
Clint nodded, "This is all very weird and twisted, but it is a gift. I'm thankful for it."
Bruce looked at Natasha and went on. "Just so you know, Nat, that box with your ballet toe shoes was going in a columbarium. I was there today to start planning things out. Tony had his funeral, but we were in such a rush after the Time Heist that all we did was rally around that sacrifice to finish the job. The grieving all got put off. We hadn't forgotten about you. Frankly, I was still holding out some hope. I guess I wasn't completely wrong."
Nat reached across the table and took his good hand. Hers looked like a child's by comparison, but she squeezed and held on for a bit. "I guess that means my timing was perfect then," she said with a small laugh. Weird and twisted was right. "A Mischief Day resurrection. How appropriate."
Clint started chuckling. "Yeah, and he freaking pitched that bench that was there on the dock across the lake. Don't forget that part, Doc."
"You wrecked our bench?" Nat scolded Bruce, but she was smiling.
"I was angry. It was the landing that wrecked it. The bombardment that came the next day would have destroyed it anyway."
Natasha looked at him shrewdly, "I thought that wood used to make the box looked familiar."
"Stanislaus offered to make it, so I took him up on it."
"Awww, that was sweet of him," she said. She well remembered the old man. This was truly one macabre conversation.
Clint reached across the table and held his hand out until Bruce realized he wanted to see his damaged hand. "The other thing Bruce has probably not mentioned is he stayed plugged into that damn Gauntlet more than twice as long as needed because he was trying to bring you back. Burned the piss out of himself."
"Yes, I heard a little about that," she said with a critical look at Bruce.
"Damn, I can see where the Stones marked you clear as ever," the archer noted as he traced the white outlines with his index finger across the back of his friend's hand.
"Yeah, that's the one thing that's not showing any signs of healing. The rest is mending."
"Why the hell did you design that thing for your right hand and not your left?" Clint asked.
"Tony did that for some reason since he wanted it to mirror Thanos' in form as well as purpose. I've been ambidextrous since I upgraded, so it doesn't matter that much." Bruce flexed his fingers and arm to demonstrate how much its functionality had improved.
"I guess you could still take me if we arm-wrestled," Clint admitted. Bruce gave a very deep Hulkish laugh in response. The archer turned to Natasha again. "If you think it looks bad now, make him show you the pictures: burned stump city. It was almost down to the original Banner size. What some people will do for love!"
Bruce rolled his eyes and ran his good hand down his face with frustration. "Where is everyone getting their information? I only mentioned that to one other person, and everyone, including the staff, has heard now."
"You're the one who told Steve. Old boy was a little less tight-lipped before he shut back up again," Clint remarked.
Natasha had reached her limit for needless amounts of mystery on that particular front. "What is this with Steve, by the way? Fury is ticked off at him and no one wants to say anything."
Bruce and Clint looked at each other, neither one of them wanting to tackle that thorny issue. Nat knew she could get either of them to crack with some pressure, but she'd rather have both their perspectives while they were here with her face to face.
"Bruce should know more than I do," Clint volunteered.
"Thanks for that vote of confidence, Pal," Bruce retorted before he addressed Natasha. "Fine. You really ought to talk to Steve and get his perspective on this, but in a nutshell, we trusted Steve to return the Stones to their rightful times and places in the timeline within moments of them being collected by us. That way we hoped to prevent splitting off alternate realities. We knew it was a challenge, but in theory, we could do this repair without causing a butterfly effect with seriously negative consequences and keep the timeline unified."
"Okay, I'm with you so far," she said.
"Steve also had Mjolnir to return as well."
She was surprised. "He could lift it?!"
"Helps when you have your come-to-Jesus moment and make peace with Stark apparently," Clint mumbled.
"What happened?" she insisted.
Bruce grimaced and shook his head. "Rather than return Mjolnir and the Reality Stone first—as we'd discussed—he returned the Time, Mind, and Power Stones, which luckily took their appropriate forms; however, that left the Soul Stone to return to Vormir next. Steve won't say what happened there, but whatever transpired, he had second thoughts about coming back to our present time and decided he wanted to stay with Peggy Carter and 'have that dance' after he returned the Space Stone. He shuffled the order to do that."
Natasha looked horrified. "But Peggy was married to . . ."
"Daniel Sousa and they had a son and daughter, Stephen and Daniela, who both went on to have families of their own, and so on," Clint answered. Several years ago, he'd been assigned to security at the S.H.I.E.L.D. archives and met their son Stephen who worked there.
Bruce continued, "This is the crazy part. They do exist, but it's like parts of the official record are altered. Government files, S.H.I.E.L.D. data, school records, newspaper archives, you name it, they all have some details changed that don't match memories."
Natasha gave him a quizzical look. She had met Peggy's family, and Fury had introduced her to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s founding grand dame. "Their information is just gone?"
"More like it's replaced or edited. One of the bigger issues is Daniela went to Georgetown for her undergraduate degree, but the records all have her at William and Mary now. She met her husband there. It's like someone revised her past without telling her," Bruce tried to explain.
"Did they end up more or less where they thought they belonged?" she asked.
Bruce looked at Clint. "You've dug into some of this."
"Pretty much. I guess you could say it's like playing chess and you turn your back on the board for a few seconds. Then, when you look at the game again, all the pieces are still there, but they're shuffled around enough that it's noticeable if you study it."
"Like a bad grifter's switcheroo scheme when the misdirect fails," Natasha concluded. "Do you think it happened to coincide with your unsnapping everyone?"
Bruce shook his head. "Try four days later, the day Steve took the Stones back and Old Man Steve showed up to give Sam his shield. It's like something is being covered up, but we're not sure exactly what, and Steve has clammed up now."
"Do you think he did it somehow?"
"That's what we'd like to figure out," Clint said. "It seems to be confined to things Steve may have affected." He nodded to Bruce, "Go on, Doc. I know there's more."
"Anyway, before he quit talking, Steve said when he tried to lift Mjolnir after he returned the Soul Stone on Vormir, he couldn't budge it."
"No shit! I didn't know that last part," Clint interjected, leaning over the table.
"Well, what did he do?" Nat demanded.
"He said he did some 'soul searching' without changing his mind to stay in the past, and in a few minutes, the hammer flew off on its own. Gone! I would presume that's because Thor called it, but . . ." Bruce raised his hands in the air with exasperation, "we don't know. Steve then returned the Reality Stone to Asgard where it turned back to the Aether, but he had no way to find out what happened to Mjolnir without disrupting things further. He finished up with the Space Stone, which became the Tesseract, and then said he stayed with Peggy straight through."
"Have you talked to Thor? Did he have both versions of Mjolnir?" Nat asked.
"Strange was able to contact him, but Thor has no memory of it acting oddly much less there being two, which makes no sense. We don't know to whom it went or what happened after that. Presumably, there's another timeline splinter," Bruce explained.
Nat's head was swimming. "That makes two, plus ours."
Bruce laughed a bit sarcastically, "Hold on, there is also the 2014 timeline without the Thanos and his army that we defeated here 13 days ago."
"That's not our timeline?" Clint asked.
"No, remember, when you go back to the past that's your future. You can't kill baby Thanos and just erase what he's done in your past. No Back to the Future. No Terminator. What we were trying to do was keep the timeline from fracturing, but blame it on whomever you want, we failed pretty spectacularly," Bruce concluded.
"You forgot Loki," Clint groaned.
"Yeah, that one's not on Steve, but it did happen." Natasha looked puzzled. "I will explain the whole caper in detail at some point when you're wanting to start a headache, but Team Iron-Ant got knocked off course and Loki grabbed the Tesseract. Poof! Probably four splits."
Clint grinned. "Hold it. you're skipping the best part of that story."
At that, Bruce grimaced, "Remember, before we had Shawarma after the Battle of New York, how I didn't fit in the elevator going down from Tony's penthouse and had to take the stairs all the freaking way down the tower?"
"Yes . . . it pissed you off for like another half hour before you calmed down enough to change," Nat remembered.
"Scott says Tony had nabbed the Tesseract before 2012 me sent Tony and the MacGuffin flying as I came out of the stairwell into the lobby, big, green, and pissed off. That's when Loki pounced on it. Gone!"
"But, can you remember doing that?" she asked.
"No. I'm pretty sure I stomped out into the street without looking back. I've been able to integrate most of both our memories now, so I'm pretty certain my memory has stayed the same as before," Bruce noted. He caught the knowing little smile Nat had on her face, and it stirred both parts of him down deep. Both aspects of his personality had fallen pretty hard for her, and he'd known that for a while now. Bruce suspected Natasha had known that all along.
"Okay, I see why people aren't happy with Steve now. How long did he stay in the past?" she asked.
"He says he was there the whole time," Clint said. "He and Peggy did a lot more than have one dance."
"He didn't come back via our time machine through the Quantum Realm," Bruce explained. "I initially thought the second machine had malfunctioned, but he did it the old fashion way and lived his life then showed up sitting on a bench waiting for us to notice him. Surprise. That's his story and he's stuck with it, even when we confronted him with some of the paradoxes. The idea that he would have no effect on history is pretty absurd, but we may never know how the shuffling occurred after he showed up or exactly why."
Natasha shook her head. "Wait, this is still not making sense. It breaks the rule you just mentioned. Wouldn't Steve have made himself a separate timeline when he chose to stay back in time and ours continued on without him? Otherwise, that's got to be a loop or something?"
Bruce groaned and did a facepalm. "Fucking déjà vu all over again, you're right. Dammit, Steve! If this is the same Steve, he had to have hopped back into ours somehow without using the machine. Shit, it's not a time loop. It may have spliced or converged somehow with ours when he came through." It had been several days since he'd spoken with Strange and handed off most of the Time Heist's follow-up responsibilities to him. Maybe he'd been a little too hasty about stepping back?
"I'm gonna need another beer," Clint said and retrieved a bottle of lager this time. They all dug into their bowls of stew and mulled over the situation.
Bruce looked up first and his eyes darted back and forth between the two former assassins. "Do you think Steve would have pilfered more Pym Particles? I mean, he had enough to do the job, but would he lie to us and retrieve more like Tony and he did before in order to come back to our timeline from a splinter one? That by itself doesn't explain why the Sousas are affected, but he had to have done at least one extra jump to get back here on his own."
Clint swallowed and cleared his throat. "Right up until this Time Heist, I would have put money on Cap never wavering from what needed to be done for the greater good, but the more I've thought about this, he threw Stark and the Avengers under the bus for Barnes and then everyone, including our reality, down a rabbit hole to fill out his dance card. I'm not saying I blame him. Hell, I almost did the equivalent to my own family to support him and so did Scott. Steve's biggest asset is to inspire and lead people. We put him on such a damn high pedestal. Disappointing as it is, the man really is just human after all; still, what a way to screw up everything."
Natasha sighed with resignation. "I think Clint is saying, 'Yes, Steve is capable of it,' and I agree. Steve has always had a blind spot where loved ones are concerned," she noted. "I can't say I blame him that much either." The Skrull had been the one who painted himself into a corner, so Natasha wasn't sure if she would have done the same thing. She hoped she would have been that strong, but the crucible of Vormir was a situation she'd been spared. Hell, she hoped she would have been smart enough to find a better way.
Bruce pressed his lips together and chewed at them, not wanting to believe what he suspected Steve had done to complicate the fracturing of reality further. Stealing more Pym Particles had likely caused yet another alternate timeline each time when he'd stolen them. Now, he wished he'd had time to talk to Wanda more. When Bruce had confronted "Old Steve," after he'd spoken to Sam and Bucky, things had nearly gotten ugly as he pointed out what had likely happened to fracture the timeline further. Rather than restoring the six stones and preventing their fractures (and any others), Steve had made even more. That was the one time Bruce had wished he could have returned to his old form and slipped in and out, keeping his promise to the Ancient One and mending the fractures. Hell, Clint would have done a much better job. "What are we up to, a minimum of six, no, seven fractures now?"
"Seven, eight, or maybe ten," Clint sighed. "This is above my paygrade."
"Ugh, you know what just occurred to me?!" Nat blurted out. "Before the Snap, Steve and Sharon were together and sharing an apartment." This time, Bruce groaned and did a complete double facepalm.
"So that means . . . Steve was shacking up with his own niece?" Clint shuddered and shook his head dramatically like a wet dog to try and rid himself of the picture of creepy Uncle Steve. "Thank God, at least they weren't blood relatives."
"Okay," Bruce said after they'd mulled that situation over another few minutes. "Okay, we can't really do anything about the consequences on this catastrophic of a level, not without a lot of help, and definitely not today. Strange is probably already on it. There are bound to be more paradoxes than just the seven we've identified. What do you say we give it a rest and try a new topic?"
Sirius' drugged snores in the corner became much more noticeable in the silence until Bruce gave it a shot. "Uh, what have you got planned for Halloween, Clint? Do the kids have their costumes lined up?"
"Nate's going to be you," Clint said with an eye roll.
"Really? You're not leaving without the t-shirts then." He held up a finger to indicate he'd be back in a minute and got up. "I think I know where they are." He disappeared down the hall with the office and utility rooms.
"Coop thinks he's too old for trick or treating, but Lila is dressing up as you, Nat. They're all going to be so happy you're back."
Natasha tried not to tear up. "I'll Skype you guys this evening, okay?"
"Make that tomorrow. I want to be there," Clint said.
Bruce emerged from the hallway with a stack of lime and Kelly-green t-shirts of varying sizes. "These were left over from the school event we did last spring on seed-starting and composting. Pick out the right sizes because I'm pretty clueless," he said as he set the pile in the middle of the table.
Natasha helped Clint sort through the t-shirts. "Did you tell me earlier there are two gardens and a greenhouse?" Natasha asked, trying to keep the conversation moving away from Steve's peccadillos and time travel.
"There is a somewhat formal rose garden and a cottage and wildflower garden. Vella says we have a kitchen garden, but I call it herbs and tomatoes. There's a gazebo by the roses and a path nearer the river. The greenhouse is closer to the old mill building," Bruce noted as he pointed out the back door. "Clint, we need to get Laura and kids here when you all feel ready."
"I'm surprised she hasn't called yet, but I'm not expected back till late tonight. We'll make it happen once you're settled, Nat." He checked his watch. "I hate to gas your dog, drink your beer, and run, but I've got a ride swinging by in a little bit." Natasha handed him the rolled-up t-shirts as Clint stood up and hugged her. "Here, please take my burner phone since yours is on Vormir or at the bottom of that mud pit some of us sometimes called a home. I'll show myself out. Bruce, let me know when you open up that Bed & Breakfast."
Nat hugged him fiercely. "Thanks, you'll probably be the only one calling me till we figure out how to handle this. Text me the best time for Skype."
Clint stopped to pet Sirius who was still sleeping things off. "I'm sorry, Buddy. I guess you got a Hulk-sized dose since I thought I was going to have to talk some sense into your dad, Uncle Bruce."
"Thanks for telling me," Bruce said with a resigned growl. "Do I need to open the gate? Debug the bathroom mirror? Reset some cameras that are on loops?"
"Naugh, that'll give Nat something to do. Bring the pup out when you come. You know he'll love the kids." Clint waved as he exited via the back porch and picked up his gear.
"Well, I'm kind of glad he didn't get to the big brother talk before he left because I was completely expecting it," Bruce admitted.
"I'm pretty sure Laura helped him figure it out a while back," Natasha replied. They were both finished eating, so they cleared the table and loaded the dishes in the washer. When everything was put in order, she asked, "Isn't it about time you showed me upstairs?"
Bruce broke into a smile and scooped her luggage off the counter where it had ended up and motioned with a nod of his head toward the hall leading to the front end of the house. "I want to do this right." Rather than heading straight up the main staircase, he went to the double doors and opened them wide, beckoning her to follow him outside onto the front porch.
"What are we doing, Banner?" she asked suspiciously.
"Something I've wanted to do for over a decade and for which I should never have waited this long," he said and put the duffel bag over his shoulder before he swept her off her feet. The doors were over eight feet tall, so he didn't have to stoop. She pulled his face down to hers and demanded a kiss, which he was all too happy to give her. This time, he was less tentative than in the car, less afraid to express how much he wanted her and how happy he was she was here. She seemed to be getting comfortable with him, too, but they eventually had to take a breath. "Just to be clear, Nat, I want you to know this is your home if you want it to be. I've made a full life here, but that doesn't mean you wouldn't fit right into it."
"No pressure?" she asked with a flirty grin.
"None. I'll be sad if you don't stay, but I'm strong enough to survive letting you go if that's what you need. I'll respect your wishes if you want space. I won't smother you because I want the timing to be right, and it needs to be your choice," Bruce explained, frowning a bit.
She could have left him on the hook for her answer, but Natasha smiled with one of those knowing little expressions he'd missed so much. "Yes, Bruce, I'll stay. I know the timing is finally right. This is my choice, Love, and I choose to be with you." Their kiss was mutual and deep this time, and he managed to shut and lock the massive door without breaking it or interrupting their kiss.
End Notes: My thanks to Autumn_Froste and Emilygracie13 for their Beta-help and a whole lot of plotting out the time travel!
Rant Warning: I have to talk about this. We had a lot of "fun" picking through all the sloppy mess the Russos and Markus and McFeely made as they screwed up time travel throughout the third act of the film. I even consulted with my friend Lex who is a bit of an expert with sci-fi physics tropes, so he deserves some credit here, too. I talked/argued with many people since TT is a serious issue with EndLame.
The way TT is set up is sound. Unfortunately, too much of Bruce's short screen time uses him like a tool to explain it, sucking up more screen time than he gets for actual character development. Hey, that's so much easier than writing and filming a legit character arc, right??
Anyhow, the rules aren't at issue, it's how they flagrantly broke them many times, mostly just for Cap fan service, but also out of sloppiness. The Russos and M and M contradicted each other during several interviews. You will never convince me this has all been in some grand plan since Feige brain farted it in 2006. (One queen-bee admin kicked me off an Agents of SHIELD page when I refused to drink her version of that toxic Marvel Koolaide. All hail the Mouse and the Kevin!)
We went through many videos and articles on TT, so I had a list of errors and inconsistencies that likely caused fractures or created other problems in the continuity. I also went through fixes/explanations people had proposed. As Bruce says, either it's all true or it's all crazy, but hey, until someone manages it, it's all fiction anyway. Just pick your dang rules and stick with them is how I feel. There's no way to avoid a multiverse now, so it looks like the folks working on Doctor Strange 2: The Multiverse of Madness (insert evil Nightmare laugh, Bwah-Ha-Ha!) will have to deal with them since Far from Home's director said it wasn't his mess to clean up. Smart man.
Anyway, the plot holes were plentiful, and we kept finding more and more to go with the paradoxes. (I even used one Emily found for Nat to point out.) Add onto this the Russos and M and M keep doing interviews and claiming their previously confessed fanboy head canons dating back to Civil War and Peggy's funeral are now true (TRUE, they tell us!) like "made up facts" true. It obvious they're either delusional and desperate to rewrite established canon for perfect Stevo or just flailing around and trying to troll us one more time to get off their sick, power-tripping jollies. (Woo, take a breath!) Either way, they're gone from the MCU and good freaking riddance.
After TWS, they never did a favor for Nat, and they delighted in maiming, crippling, and nerfing Bruce and Hulk from moment one of IW. When they had to consistently correct fans about important plot points (i.e. why Hulk wouldn't come out in IW), the failure is on the Russos, not the fans. They had no intention of making anything but Cap fan service, so that's all we got. Time will take the shine off their mediocre works. I wish Ruffalo would sue them for breach of contract since we're never getting his arc back or all the time, talent, blood, sweat, and tears he and the ILM put into it. Such a waste. Look up Film Crit Hulk's essay/review/reaction over on Polygon for a really beautiful, heartfelt summation of the grief Hulk and Banner fans will never get over. He even ships Bruce x Natasha. #FTR
Rant over.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I've wanted to do the Beauty and the Beast thing and give them both a home and a dog and a community that appreciates them, even if it's kind of cheesy. I also love—despite Renner—the deep friendship Clint and Nat share on both the professional and personal level. Of course, Clint and Bruce were the two people the Skrull knew he'd have the most difficulty fooling. Yah, Bruce is a little jealous of how close Nat and Clint are, but he recognizes and handles it like an adult. Clint has that big-brother protective thing going, but he knows Bruce is a good guy and, now that his shit is together, he's going to make Nat happy. She loves them both, but in very different ways. Clint is her kindred spirit while Bruce is her soulmate. Btw, if it hadn't been a spoiler, the chapter title would have been "Bruce, Nat, and Clint Throw Steve under the Bus." Murder Twins + Bruce is my favorite if we can't have Tony, too.
If you'd like to see the cover edits for each part, check out my Pinterest board. This one includes a puppy!
You know, I'd love to discuss things and hear what you think. Is this how you've imagined things? Did you come up with other plot holes or fragmented timelines? Comments, questions, and commiseration are always welcome! Please give a like, a follow, a kudo, a review, a share, a tweet, and tell your friends to give it a read!
Next up: "Part 6: Safe Sex" (Is that a spoiler?)