Whatever It Takes

5.1

For almost a month now, my bed has not been empty.

Natasha and I have age regressed to our childhood selves, sleeping in the big and younger sestra's bed. If we had a childhood where we could have done that. It's a way of healing, I guess. Healing our inner child, healing our broken hearts.

Still, the numbers come in from around the world. Prominent leaders, close family members. Still, Wanda and Yelena's absence has taken its toll on us. We're much softer with one another, a lot more vulnerable, tender. We watch the other closely, keeping our eye on their movements throughout the day. It's as if we're both still worried Thanos's snap will have a delayed effect. One day we'll wake up, and there will be ash under the covers.

The rest of the team seems lost. Banner stays holed up in the lab, tinkering with satellites and technology, occasionally checking in on the wires he's attached to Vision. He mainly keeps the lid on his metal coffin closed, just open a crack for the tubes to peek through. He's trying to find a way to bring him back, anyway he knows how.

With him is the god's raccoon. He's insistently told me his name is Rocket, but I insist on calling him raccoon, because that is what he is. I've tried to explain that I think it's a compliment, as names like that are for pets, and he is not a pet. He's not so keen. However, we do share a love for liquor, and we've had many nights talking about our past, trying to win the who's-had-the-worst-hand game. He's spoken of the Guardians of the Galaxy, a little precarious for his own group in my opinion, but when he speaks of them he always grows serious. He and Banner have struck up a bond, and he seems to have been the Guardians' version of our scientist. The two spend much of the day in the lab, futzing with tech.

Natasha and I have tried to get ahold of Barton, but he seems to have gotten rid of his burner. He's off the grid, and we know better than to barge in on him in his home. He'll call when he's ready, we're sure of it. He just needs time to process. As we all do.

The god just stalks the halls of the compound, never changing out of sweats or showering. He does not eat meals with us, he remains alone. He sits in one spot for hours, staring blankly at nothing. He feels everything has fallen on him. Thanos's win is only his loss. His failure. If he had just gone for the head...

Rhodes and the Captain have been working on communicating with other leaders around the globe, exchanging messages with the UN and trying to corroborate a story to tell to the public. The Captain went on the news a few days after we returned to the states, a mandatory worldwide broadcast popping up in the homes of millions. The hero's face, solemn and hard, relaying the events of Thanos in expertly crafted words that took hours to come up with.

Protests took to the streets soon after, the world divided on Thanos. Some believed he was right to do what he did, stating the world will now become a better place. The sacrifice was necessary to prolong the planet's life. Others were against the Titan's actions, and also against us. We had repeatedly reassured the public that they'd be safe in our hands, with our protection. The Avengers would be their saving grace.

But with our failure, we exposed our mortality to them. They fear us now, have become scared instead of angry. I don't blame them. We're made up of essentially unkillable beings. If we can bleed, if we can fall victim just as the rest of them, what hope do they have?

Carol, the female Captain I like to tease her as, has been up in space for weeks. She's come back down to Earth a few times, just to check in on us, check in on the satellites, report her findings about where Thanos and the other members of our team aren't. Every time she comes back empty-handed, our hope slowly dwindles.

But maybe not tonight.

Tonight, as Natasha and I cook dinner in the kitchen, the pans on the stove start to rattle. The counter the raccoon sits on causes his fur to stand on end. The plates Rhodes sets on the table begin to shake. The expertly folded napkins Banner has crafted cave in. The silverware Pepper puts aside rattles against each other.