No Tears | NR

Chapter 61

Paris, France

The city of love was as dirty as Yara remembered it. Trash and dirt littered the streets, and the smell of exhaust fumes and urine didn't improve things. Anywhere Yara looked, small, grayish, circular spots decorated the dark ground. They were the remains of old chewing gum thousands of people had stepped on. Once again, Yara found that the capital of France was extremely overrated. Still, it was busy with tourists and locals alike.

The sky was cloudy and the wind was strong, but there was no rain. Yara was strolling down a cobbled street in Montmartre taking in her surroundings. This area was pretty much the only place in Paris she liked. Her gaze traveled from one cute, little shop to another as she slowly wandered towards a square that was packed with people, many of whom were artists. As she approached the area, a feeling of discomfort overcame her. She didn't like crowds, and this one was no different. Still, she continued on her way and took her time strolling past displays that many of the artists here used to show off their work in order to sell it. On her way, she tried to take in each picture and was quite impressed by the skill and talent, some of these artists had.

Her eyes lingered on a picture as she approached the last few displays. It was a group portrait of the original six Avengers. This picture was not unlike other paintings Yara had seen here, but something about it caught her attention and drew her in. It was only when she got closer that she understood why this particular piece of art stood out to her. Generally, these pictures of the Avengers made them look like heroes, majestic and tall. Yara had also seen other pictures of them, where they were beaten, injured, or, less commonly, dead. Some artists had even portrayed them as villains, bullying people and destroying their homes. There were all kinds of pictures of them ranging from paintings all the way to caricatures.

Still, none of them were quite like this one. There was something so unmistakable human about each one of the six people who were portrayed in the painting. There had been other paintings that had been more accurate and photorealistic than this one. And yet, when Yara had looked at those other pictures, all she had seen were mere shadows of the people she had met and grown to tolerate if not more. Granted, she hadn't met all of them, not properly, but the ones she had met and the rest, whom she had heard so much about, were much more than these pictures would ever be able to show.

This particular painting, although not perfect, had a sense of sadness about it despite the Avengers' heroic poses. They were heroes alright, but they were also human. They had feelings and emotions. They were strong and yet vulnerable. Yara wondered if the artist who painted this picture had met the heroes.

She didn't know how long she had stood in front of the painting and stared at it when a voice caught her attention.

"If you want it, it's yours", a male voice said with a strong French accent.

Yara looked up to find an elderly man with a flat cap on his thinning, white hair and a red sweater standing a few feet away from her. He was looking at her expectantly with a hint of sadness.

"Combien?", Yara responded in French, wanting to know how much the artist wanted for the picture.

The man replied with a hint of impatience. "Prenez-le."

Yara hesitated which caused the man to speak again, explaining that the painting was driving away customers. "Ça ne sert à rien. Personne n'en veut et les gens passent devant mon étalage quand ils le voient."

"Pourquoi l'avez-vous mis alors?", Yara wondered aloud, why the picture was still part of the display then.

"Je - je ne peux pas l'enlever."

Yara was curious why he had said, he can't take it down. Still, she decided, it was better not to ask. It seemed to be something personal to the artist.

"D'accord. Je vais le prendre", Yara agreed to take the picture. "Mais pas gratuitement", she finished just as the elderly man went to grab the painting. He nodded weakly and smiled although the smile didn't reach his eyes.

As Yara pulled out a 20 euro note from the light jacket she was wearing, the artist grabbed a box and opened it. He went to take out a five euro note and some change but Yara shook her head and handed him the money.

"Gardez la monnaie."

The man hesitantly put the money back inside and accepted the note.

"Merci", he thanked her for the money.

Yara nodded, muttering "Merci" in the process, and grabbed the picture. She didn't bother asking for a bag and made to turn and leave but changed her mind. There was a question she had been asking herself ever since she had found this painting.

"Les avez-vous rencontrés?", she asked if he had met them. She didn't have to specify who she was talking about.

The man didn't reply and dropped his shoulders under her gaze. He averted his eyes and looked down at the ground. Just as Yara made to turn and leave, the weak sound of his voice made her freeze. "Sokovia."

Yara didn't say anything in return. There was nothing to say. Judging by his demeanor, he must have lost someone there. So, she just nodded and left.

Sacré-Cœur Basilica was as beautiful as ever and the view from up there was even better. The church was located at the top of Montmartre and the rest of Paris unfurled at the bottom of the hill. Even the Eiffel Tower was visible in the distance.

Still, Yara couldn't enjoy any of it. Without looking at it, the image of the Avengers with such sorrow and vulnerability in their eyes lingered in her mind like a parasite. She was reminded of Steve who somehow managed to keep his heart despite all the tragedy and horror from his past. She was reminded of Clint whom she had met but once under less than optimal circumstances.  He was a great fighter. That much was clear. But despite his mask, Yara had felt the deep pain he was in. She was reminded of the other three original Avengers whom she hadn't really met, but whom she had heard a lot about from Steve and Rhodey. Even Natasha had told her a few stories, although she had stopped doing so since Wakanda. She was reminded of Shuri and King T'Challa who were not on the picture but were as much Avengers as the other six. Most of all, however, she was reminded of Natasha. Somehow, the painter had managed to find that humanity in the former assassin and bring it out onto the canvas.

Yara wasn't sure what she was going to do with the painting. When she had seen it, she had known that she needed to get it. But now, she was wondering why she had gotten it in the first place. It wasn't the kind of picture that anyone would really want to look at regularly. It would be a waste to store it away, but it was too hard if not painful to look at to put it up anywhere.

As Yara was sitting at the top of the stairway in front of Sacré-Cœur, entirely lost in her thoughts with the painting on her lap, the sky cleared up and the shadows grew longer. It wouldn't be long until the sun would set.

A cool breeze made Yara shiver. She blinked and finally noticed how late it was. With a sigh, she stood up and stretched. Then she began descending down the stairs on her way to find the nearest Métro station.

AN:

Had some time finally and felt like adding some more 'life experience' for Yara before Endgame. Also, I'm back in Europe so I figured, might as well have Yara come to Europe as well. Hope I don't offend anyone with my take of Paris. That's just what I think of the city from my own experience. As always, feel free to leave a comment and give me some feedback or any ideas you have. If there is anything you would like to see in this story, before I start Endgame, let me know. I will add it to my long list of things to mention and consider.

I will try to make things not too boring and will try and work on the next chapter asap.