Resilience | ✔

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Marley sat with Morgan on the porch steps, staring at the trees. She was crying, but it was the silent, slow kind of crying. Tears dripped off the tip of her nose and her jaw. Some of them landed on Morgan, who shifted in her lap but didn't say anything.

She had so much to process.

It had been five years.

Fine. She could handle that—in part because Peter had been dusted too, and so had Ned and MJ and Charlie. Beck hadn't, but Marley knew they'd get along as fine as they had. Plus she liked hearing about what Beck had done while she was gone. And as selfish as it was . . . life had sort of stopped after the Snap. Marley hadn't really missed much.

She had a sister. Again—fine, something she could handle. She wasn't quite sure how to feel about the fact that Tony had had another daughter while Marley was gone, but . . . she loved Morgan, and she was too tired of being angry to get upset with her father. Especially because of what he'd had to go through, what with her being dusted.

All of that was fine—stuff she could process, at least with the help of a therapist. That wasn't why she was crying.

She missed Nat.

Maybe it was hypocritical, what with how much time she'd spent being angry at her. But during the Battle of the Snapped, as they'd started calling it, that anger she felt towards everyone who had sided with Steve . . . it had disappeared. They'd been united by a common goal, and she'd been too caught up in that sense of teamwork to retain her anger. Seeing Steve up there getting ready to face Thanos and his army alone, even though she hadn't realized it at the time, had washed away her grudge. She didn't know how, or why. But she'd forgiven him in that moment, and it was hard to continue to hold a grudge against people who you knew would die for you—and who you knew you would die for.

But after the battle . . .

They'd watched Thanos's army turn to ash. They'd watched Thanos crumble away into dust. Tony had formed a box of nanotech with the Stones inside it and handed it to Steve, and he'd retracted his suit and Marley had retracted hers and he pulled her into a hug.

Those five years must have been very hard for him, she'd thought. Because he'd never leaned on her like this before. It had always been her being the one leaning into him. It had always been him who was the pillar in hugs, always the one who protected. Comforted. Right now, though, it was the other way around. He was clinging to her, shaking, nearly all his weight on her, tears seeping into her shirt.

Pepper landed next to them, stepping out of her purple and silver suit, face crumpling, and Marley folded her into their hug, feeling for all the world like the only adult in the situation. It was just—weird.

"I'm glad you're back," Pepper sobbed, over and over. "I'm glad you're back."

Marley just patted her on the back. She'd get the full story later. Right now, she figured it was best to just let this happen.

Minutes passed. She rubbed her parents' backs and pressed the occasional kiss to the top of a head, letting them cry themselves out. It would be up to them when to break the hug—after all, apparently five years had passed for them. It had been maybe a full second for her.

Eventually Pepper pulled herself together, wiping the tears off her face. She kissed Marley's cheek and patted Tony's back and said, "I think I should go explain this to the government."

"You're an angel," Marley told her. Pepper's eyes filled with tears again, and she stood there for a moment looking like she wanted to say something before striding off.

Tony released Marley, though only so he could press a kiss to her forehead. Tear tracks struck through the dirt and blood on his face. He stared at her for a moment, clearly trying to figure out what to say. She had no idea what any of it was, but she hated seeing him lost for words, so she smiled at him and said, "I know, Dad."