Ghost of You

s e v e n

I read somewhere once that things get worse before they get better but I think whoever said that must have never worked for Steve Rogers. 

Three days had passed since the incident on the jet. Clint had shocked us all, taking us to a safe house where we met his very pregnant wife, Laura, and two kids, none of which anyone but Nat had even known existed. Morale was still at an all time low. Bruce had barely spoken a word, Thor had vanished somewhere shortly after arriving. Tony and Steve were helping out around the house in any way they could, trying to find ways to be useful. I think sitting around and doing nothing like this when we knew the threat that was out there waiting for us was driving them both a little crazy. 

I spent most of my time with Nat and Laura, avoiding any and all interactions with the aforementioned asshole boss of mine. In fact, we hadn't spoken one word to each other since being here. It was probably for the best. I couldn't trust myself around him and to be honest the constant fighting was beginning to wear me down. This job was stressful enough. There was already an enormous amount of pressure attached to it without adding the constant bickering between me and him. I could feel myself losing the will to fight with him, the drama of it all draining me of all my energy. I was constantly having to recharge my batteries, preparing myself for another day fighting to not give up my spot here and prove to my father that this hadn't been a mistake. It was exhausting. 

Nat and I were sitting on the porch attached to the front of Clint's house, his daughter Lila sitting comfortably in Nat's lap. Lila looked just like her father, the same chocolate hair and the same dimpled smile. She was quite literally the spitting image of him. Seeing the two of them interact pulled on every heart string, the joy in his eyes when she spoke, the smile on his cheeks when she showed him her drawings. Lila would do anything to make him proud, constantly seeking out his approval even though it was clear as day that as far as Clint was concerned, Lila could do no wrong. She could grow up to be a painter, a dancer, a business woman or a clown and he would love her all the same. Based on the arrows in her drawings and the archery based games she played with her brother she just wanted to be exactly like her father. I was tempted to shove a paint brush her way and tell her to shove all those imaginary bows and arrows away where she'd never find them and stick with the art but I knew as well as anyone that you can't unwire a child who wants nothing more than live up to their parents potential, to make them proud.

In the back of my head I heard someone yell my name. At first I thought I had imagined it, but then it happened again. Nat nudged my arm, pulling me out of my thoughts and pointing in the direction of the front lawn. Tony was looking at me expectantly, one arm waving me over. Steve's head had snapped in my direction, then glared at the back of Tony's head. They had been spending the last hour or so chopping firewood which Steve continued to do. Tony was still waiting for me to leave the safety of the porch. I didn't want to. Not that I had much choice, I just wanted to make it clear how badly I wished I could stay sitting exactly where I was.  

When I started walking towards them, I saw a resigned look on Tony's face. Steve looked furious but what else is new. 

"You called?" I asked, stopping when I had reached the edge of Tony's pile of wood. It was admittedly only half the size of Steve's but that wasn't exactly a fair competition. 

"Yes." He sighed, leaning his axe against the tree stump, turning to face me. "I'm tired of whatever is going on between the two of you. Frankly I don't have the time or energy to deal with it but since you two won't, I will."

My eyes widened slightly and I had to force myself not to take a giant step back, then another and another until I was so many miles away nobody would ever be able to find me. I could learn to live in the woods. I'd gone camping like once, how hard could it really be?