Chapter 91

For the remaining half of Pepper's pregnancy, things continued on in much the way they had for months – humanity struggled to put itself back together with violent outbursts along the way, the remaining Avengers worked non-stop, the others continued on in their quiet lives.

Maggie, however, made a point to return to Earth more often. Sometimes the Benatar dropped her off for a few days (usually for a mission that needed her help, but once or twice just to visit when she felt up to it), and sometimes she flew back on a spaceship of her own. Rocket had taught her how to fly most basic models, and there were plenty of ships without owners nowadays.

She visited Tony and Pepper when she could, even if for only a few hours. Those pockets of time hung like golden lights in her mind, small reminders that in a wooden house by the lake, Maggie could at least pretend to be normal. It still hurt to be there, like thousands of knives pressing against her diaphragm, but she was almost addicted to seeing Tony and Pepper thrive. At the end of every visit Tony asked her to stay, and every time she said no.

When Pepper started to feel flutterings of movement in her stomach that turned into kicks as the weeks drew on, Maggie went on a mission in Wakanda. She assisted Okoye and the remaining Dora Milaje on an incursion into what used to be the Border Tribe's land, currently held by power-hungry looters turned despots. Maggie provided air support to the team of lethal women as they routed the gangs and imprisoned the leaders. As she flew, she tried desperately not to be reminded of what it had been like to fight in that same country only six months ago. What it had been like to feel the hot sun prickling on the back of her neck, to feel her wing tips whisper through brown grass. What it had been like to lose.

When the mission was over Maggie joined Okoye and her people for a meal in the golden city. It should have been a celebration, but on the whole the meal was quiet. Maggie had noticed earlier that they'd shut off the whole wing of the palace where the royal family used to live.

When they finished the second course, Okoye leaned toward Maggie. "Would you like to visit his house?"

Maggie stiffened in her seat, fork halfway to her mouth. Okoye had said his in a hesitant tone, so unusual for the steely-eyed leader,

"It's not far," Okoye continued in a murmur. "A short flight for you, probably-"

"No," Maggie breathed.

It's a little thatched mud hut by the edge of the lake. You should see it doll, at sunset the whole lake lights up orange and purple.

One day.

"I…" She shook her head. "I can't do that."

Okoye inclined her head. "I understand."

Maggie escaped back to space after that, flying a borrowed starship to meet Carol and help her support a struggling society of wraith-like creatures living on a gas planet.

In the eighth month of Pepper's pregnancy, when Pepper was complaining of back pain and having to go to the bathroom all the time, and Tony was running around frantically trying to get things ready even though Pepper had sorted it out weeks ago, Maggie realized that she now essentially split her time between Earth and space equally. Half the time she was on missions with Rocket, Nebula, and Carol, helping societies get back on their feet and hunting down criminals, but more and more often she was helping out on Earth with Natasha, Rhodey, and Okoye.

She visited Steve every few weeks, though mostly they just drank in silence and watched movies. Bruce had banned all visitors to his lab because of the radiation risk, so she Skyped him twice a week to discuss his math (and marvel at the radical changes to his appearance).

She'd tried to visit Thor once more, but he'd pretty much entirely retreated to his house on the hill, and there were only so many video games and foul-smelling belches she could handle before her skin started to crawl. She did end up helping Valkyrie chase off a group of the bible-bashing 'repent' people, though, and her wings paired with Valkyrie's spear and scowl did a good job of terrifying them.

Without realizing it, Maggie had made a place for herself on Earth once more. She didn't have a home or even a fixed address, but she had people, work. It reminded her of something her therapist Mai had once said: You willed the world to make room for you, you made a space for yourself on this earth.

The recollection sparked a sick feeling in her stomach. The idea of making a space for herself in this new world hurt. Because it would be a place without Bucky. Without Vision. Without Peter and Shirley and Mai and everyone else on the long list of people she'd lost. How could she move on and leave them in the past?

Part of her wanted to – it would make everything hurt less, probably. But even though they were gone, atoms reduced to nothing, they still lived real and bright in her mind. They waited for her in her dreams, ready with a smile and a warm touch. She couldn't let them go.

If she thought about it for too long her heart started to ache so sharply it left her breathless, so more often than not she pushed away the thoughts and put her head down, getting back to work. That usually worked for a few days at least until she'd find herself clutching the Kimoyo bead around her neck, or looking at a particularly complicated piece of code and thinking Vision would like this.

She pushed the thoughts away because holding on to them was like holding burning embers - the glow might be beautiful, but it wasn't worth the pain.

And then Maggie got posted on a mission that she couldn't use to forget her pain. There'd been an upsurge of violence in the North Africa region; tyrannical gangs trying to exploit innocent grieving families, and Maggie had been sent in to monitor and suppress. Only it seemed someone else had the same idea.

Each time she tracked down a hub of operations or a gang member's house, she arrived to nothing but ashes and carved up bodies. Someone was putting a stop to the gangs permanently. Maggie was no stranger to violence, but the gruesomeness of the scenes even caught her by surprise.

At the fourth base, she arrived while the massacre was still underway. She swooped in, wings flared and red eyes burning, only to land with a slight stumble in her step when she recognized the shrouded figure emerging from the bloodbath.

He hadn't noticed her yet, so she just stared. The figure strode along the sand-blown street, wearing black armor with bronze inlays and a large hood that obscured most of his face – the rest was hidden by a black mask. He wielded a katana, which dripped blood onto the road as he strode away from the burning building. He looked utterly ruthless, a dark warrior striding to his next mission.

Even though his face was covered and his entire bearing had changed, Maggie recognized him. She'd almost given him up as dead.

"Hawkeye."

The warrior froze, and after a second of hesitation he turned until he spotted her standing in the deep shadows of a neighboring mud-brick building. She could only see a hint of his eyes, glinting above his dark mask.

"Don't call me that." His voice came out low, dangerous.

She cocked her head. "Who are you, then? Cli-"

"I'm not him either." His eyes flashed. "I'm… it doesn't matter who I am."

Maggie eyed him for a long moment, taking in his dark shrouded suit and the flatness in his eyes. She knew that aching emptiness. The void inside him was a mirror of her own: a future, a family, crumbled away. This warrior had filled his void with blood.

Looking into his eyes reminded Maggie of every moment she had tried to forget.

She swallowed thickly, recalling the intel she'd discussed with Rhodey a few weeks ago, and paced closer. "They've been calling you Ronin," she said softly. "A wandering samurai with no master. A warrior without a home."

His eyes flicked to hers, and she didn't flinch from the darkness. She knew that if she did he would walk away. But he just met her eyes for a long moment, then shrugged one shoulder. "If you need to call me anything, you can call me that."

Maggie nodded slowly, then looked over Ronin's shoulder to the base – the roof collapsed, sending a shower of sparks up into the air. "You didn't have to do it like that."

Ronin didn't look back. "They're hurting people, killing people. Last week they stole twin babies from their parents and tried to sell them on the black market. They don't deserve to live."

She let out a long, slow breath. She'd barely known Clint Barton – they met once, at the airport in Germany, before parting once again. She'd liked him; he had accepted her and looked out for her, and they'd fought together like they'd trained together for years. She hadn't known about his family.

She'd barely known Clint Barton, but she knew Ronin. She understood how his love had turned to sharp-edged pain, she understood the drive to keep moving, lest he be smothered under his grief.

"There was a time when I'd have told you not to let the darkness swallow you whole, Ronin," Maggie said softly. He looked up, and she met his dark, glinting eyes almost desperately. "But… what else is there?"

Silence stretched between them, long and hopeless. After a few seconds Maggie stopped waiting for Ronin to speak. He didn't have an answer for her.

They looked at each other for two more minutes of silence, then moved as one; Ronin turned on his heel and continued striding down the sandy street, and Maggie raised her wings. There was nothing for her here.

Throughout her whole journey back to her room in Cairo, she was haunted by the image of Ronin's glittering eyes shrouded in his mask. He hadn't looked angry when he explained why he killed all those people.

He'd looked resigned. As if after the Decimation, this was all he had left.

As Maggie lay on her bunk that night, staring at the ceiling, she wondered what was left for her.

One Month Later

Shi-Ar Empire Throneworld: Chandilar

"So Rhodey, how'd you find working with the space crew?"

As they all strode across the glinting glass walkway to the landing berth where the Benatar was moored, Rhodey looked across at Carol. The walkway was hundreds of stories above the planet surface, with a dizzying view of the hundreds of glittering skyscrapers and floating buildings that made up the Shi-Ar capital. Nebula and Rocket flanked Maggie, a few paces behind Rhodey and Carol. The sun shone warm on their faces, and the air buzzed with the sounds of passing aircraft.

They were in pretty good shape after the mission, though exhausted after negotiating a ceasefire with the cold-blooded, aggressive bird-like Shi-Ar race. The Shi-Ar "Imperium" had apparently decided that the chaos after the Decimation was the perfect time to start expanding their empire. At least until Carol and the others had showed up to put a stop to it (though they'd had to ask for backup from Rhodey – four people and a spaceship against an entire imperial army was a big ask). After weeks of battling Shi-Ar starships in small, defenseless planetary systems, Maggie felt almost glad that the Shi-Ar had agreed to talk to Carol. Almost. She'd still enjoyed kicking their asses.

Rhodey seemed to be thinking about Carol's question. Finally, he said: "Shit out here is weird." Carol laughed, and the corner of Maggie's mouth curled. That's progress, she noted.

"You've got a good eye," Rocket said wryly.

Rhodey shrugged and then turned to Carol again. "And why did those bird people keep calling you Vers?"

Carol rolled her eyes. "I came through here like twenty years ago, under a different name. It's a long story." Maggie and Nebula exchanged a glance. The Benatar's ramp came down as they approached, and Maggie sighed as she stepped on board.

"Seems like you've got a lot of long stories," Rhodey muttered, and Carol just smiled at him.

Nebula strode past them. "Let's get moving, I want to get off this planet. I don't trust the Shi-Ar as far as I could throw them."

"They've got hollow bones," Rocket noted. "You could probably throw them pretty far."

Nebula shot him a flatly unimpressed look over her shoulder as she marched into the cockpit. Maggie followed her and fell into her seat with a sigh. They'd been on Chandilar for two days, negotiating with the Imperium and constantly watching their backs for a double-cross. The clean, glittering city and the hard faces of the Shi-Ar reminded Maggie of her days in the Red Room.

"Hey blackbird, you gonna just sit there or help me with these coordinates?" Rocket called, and Maggie looked up to where he sat in the pilot's seat, frowning at her. She held up her hands in surrender and turned to her holoscreen.

It flickered to life and immediately a new message alert popped up before her eyes. Guiltily avoiding Rocket's frown, Maggie opened the message.

Instantly, she gasped and flung her hand out, smacking Rhodey so hard as he walked past her that he yelped.

"Ow, Maggie, what the hell?"

She just pointed wordlessly at her holoscreen.

The message had come from Tony, and it was dated twenty-nine hours ago:

So, Pepper's going into labor.

Ten minutes later, another message: Holy shit.

And that was it. Rhodey read the message, his face lighting up, and Maggie turned to Rocket.

"Rocket, get us back to Earth right now."

Five Hours Later

Maggie and Rhodey landed in their armor just outside Pepper and Tony's property, retracted their nanotech, and started walking down the gravel path.

They hadn't had time to call ahead, but they knew Pepper and Tony would be at home; they'd decided months ago to have a home birth with an on-call doctor and midwife. That's just how the world was now.

Maggie and Rhodey walked in silence. Birds trilled in the trees around them, and gravel crunched under their boots. Rhodey's exosuit whirred quietly. Maggie's heart pounded against her chest, but she wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was that Tony hadn't sent any follow-up information. Maybe something went wrong? Maybe it was a false alarm? Maggie had read in the pregnancy books that that happened sometimes.

She swallowed, concentrating on the sun on her face and the slight breeze against her skin to center herself. Beside her, Rhodey didn't take his eyes off the house.

The gravel path gave way to the lawn and then they walked up the stone steps onto the patio, where a sheet of notepaper stuck to the screen door read: let yourself in. Maggie and Rhodey shared a glance, before Rhodey shrugged and twisted the door handle.

Inside, the house was quiet. Sunshine streamed through the open windows, and everything was just as Maggie remembered it. She still felt large and clunky and out of place, like a bear in a dollhouse.

She heard a clink to her left and followed the noise into the kitchen, Rhodey following close behind her. In the doorway she stopped and let out a sigh: Tony stood at the kitchen bench, preparing a breakfast tray with yogurt and slightly burnt toast, and Maggie knew instantly from his bearing that everything was okay. He looked tired but not concerned, concentrating totally on the task before him. He had a stain on his t-shirt.

Perhaps hearing her breath, Tony looked up and broke into a grin. Maggie had seen precious few smiles since she last left, and it startled one out of her. She walked over and wrapped him in a tight hug, nearly picking him off the ground.

"Gah, Maggot, you're squashing me."

She held him for a few seconds more and then let go. Rhodey swooped in, arms spread wide, and he and Tony smacked each other's backs for a few seconds. Maggie took the chance to stare at Tony.

She'd been wondering if he'd look different, and in some ways he did. He was still, objectively, the same Tony. Older and sadder than a year ago, but still Tony. And yet… there was some kind of newly kindled strength in him. A strength and a terror, warring in his eyes as fast as his brain could process.

Rhodey and Tony pulled apart, and there were a few seconds of silence until Rhodey spread his arm and said: "Uh, well?"

Tony shook himself. "Right. Everything went fine, Pepper and Morgan are totally healthy, Pepper's been resting up but she's raring to get out of bed, and-"

"Morgan," Maggie breathed, trying out the name. "A boy?"

Tony blinked. "No. She's… she's a girl."

Maggie was still staring at Tony, but she could tell that Rhodey's eyes were glistening from the tone of his voice when he said: "Congratulations, Tony." He wrapped his best friend in another hug.

Maggie couldn't tear her eyes away from Tony's face. "You have a daughter."

He eyed her, slightly cautiously, but there was a warmth to his gaze. "You have a niece."

Maggie's heart was… it was either growing or breaking, and she didn't know the difference anymore. She felt as if someone had hit her over the head. "Can I see her?" she whispered.

Tony's eyes softened. "Of course."

Tony led them to the master bedroom, where Pepper was sitting up in bed with a fluffy bundle in her arms. She looked older too, with more lines on her face than Maggie remembered, but despite the lines and the shadows under her eyes and the pallor to her skin, she looked happy. Rhodey let out a soft noise when he saw her.

Pepper looked up, and her eyes softened at the sight of the two of them in the doorway. "Come say hi," she murmured.

Maggie walked numbly past her brother to the side of the bed, Rhodey following a few steps behind, and looked down.

Inside the fluffy bundle of blankets in Pepper's arms lay a baby. The baby was small and squashy, with a wrinkly pink face and little fists tucked up beside her head as she made small grumbling noises. A shock of dark hair peeked out from the cream hat on her head.

Something sparked in Maggie when she looked down at Morgan Stark, a startling feeling that burned in her chest. She wondered if she was in pain. But she chased the feeling, seized it, and found love. It was overwhelming, burning, blossoming in her chest and thundering through her veins. Her eyes widened and a breath escaped her lips, all as she stared at the grumbling baby Pepper held against her chest.

Her eyes flicked up to Pepper, who smiled at her, and then to Tony. Tony had been watching her, and his eyes softened at what he saw in her face. He understood, she realized, because of course he felt this too: this overwhelming burst of love and grief and sorrow and hope and joy. It was shocking after so many months of empty grief, and she almost pushed it away.

But then Morgan Stark opened her squinty eyes, fussing, and Maggie saw brown eyes that looked just like hers and Tony's.

And she knew she couldn't push herself away any longer. I failed. I lost. I did that. But all the same, she could not deny that life remained in the universe – different, sad, empty and hopeless maybe, but life all the same. New people could come into the world.

She'd known all that, objectively, and had fought for almost a year to keep the world running, but this was different. This was family. Instead of losing someone, she had… she had gained someone. She'd known, in her head, that Pepper would give birth to a baby some day, but it was as if she'd discovered it all anew as she looked down at Morgan. How could such a small baby change the entire universe?

She heard a voice, and distantly realized that Pepper had offered for Maggie to hold Morgan. Numbly she reached out, and then stopped. Her hands looked huge compared to the baby. "I don't know how," she said, voice cracking. I don't know if I've ever actually touched a baby in my life. The thought startled a tearful laugh from her, and Tony circled the bed to put a hand on her shoulder.

"I'll show you."

Calm and assured, as if he were explaining an engineering process, Tony talked her through it: carefully picking up the baby, supporting her head, holding her secure. Maggie was so nervous that she'd hurt the baby that she didn't even realize that she was holding her niece in her arms until Morgan wrapped a small, fat hand around her index finger.

Maggie had read about familial love, especially for newborns, but nothing had prepared her for how she was suddenly lost. For how she suddenly knew as well as she knew her own name that she would do anything for the child in her arms. It hit her like a sharp tug in her gut, like a sudden glow in her chest. Morgan peered up at her with inquisitive brown eyes. No love had hit Maggie so quickly and the sudden force of it was breathtaking, especially since she didn't think she had much feeling left in her anymore, let alone love.

Morgan's face twitched when a tear fell onto it, and Maggie quickly wiped the salt droplet away.

"Sorry, sorry," she sniffled, not sure whether she was apologizing to the baby or to the baby's parents. She looked up and saw that hers weren't the only tears in the room – Pepper was crying with a brilliant grin on her face, Rhodey's eyes gleamed, and when she turned to look at her brother there were tears glinting in his beard as he watched her. Maggie just nodded at him, hoping he could see the monumental shift that had occurred inside her heart. He put a hand on her shoulder.

Maggie looked back down at Morgan, memorizing the shape of her pudgy face and the feel of her warm and soft in her arms. Pepper started eating her breakfast, sighing in relief. Rhodey asked Tony if Morgan had been purple when she was born, which made Tony laugh for some reason, but Maggie wasn't really listening.

"Hello," she finally murmured to the tiny, precious person in her arms. "Hello, Morgan." She felt ghosts at her shoulders, but for once they didn't paralyze her. They made her feel strong.

"I'm your aunt Maggie."

Maggie stayed at the house for a week to help out Pepper and Tony; she cleaned the house, mowed the lawn, did the heavy lifting (Tony wanted Morgan's crib moved about a dozen times before it was apparently in the right place), and learned to change diapers. She was worried she'd get in the way, but Pepper and Tony assured her that she was wanted. So she spent every spare moment with Morgan – Morgan didn't do much other than sleep, drink, and cry, but Maggie couldn't get enough. And neither could her parents: Maggie swore she saw stars in Tony and Pepper's eyes every time they looked at their daughter. They both seemed nervous to be parents, but their excitement and love bore them through it. Tony, it seemed, would be the protective parent; he re-baby proofed the house and practically leaped out of his chair every time Morgan cried ("I'm sure that'll wear thin soon," Pepper told Maggie with a wry smile).

Maggie was there for Morgan's first bath, wielding towels, and for the doctor's visits. Rhodey and Happy visited periodically (Happy seemed determined to be Morgan's bodyguard for eternity), and on the third day Natasha showed up with a giant box of diapers and a smile. Bruce called in, green and grinning, and a box of futuristic technological toys arrived from Wakanda. Maggie watched Pepper and Tony bicker and laugh and grin like idiots at their daught. And when they slumped, exhausted, on whatever piece of furniture was closest, Maggie held Morgan nestled in her arms, listening to her burbles and fussy noises, with a tiny fist wrapped around her finger.

Sometimes she found herself staring at Morgan's hand against her skin. Maggie's hands had dealt out so much pain – she'd seen them covered in blood, in ash, wrapped around the holster of a gun. HYDRA had never intended these hands to be used for anything but violence. And yet here she was, gentling a baby in her arms, with a soft, small hand wrapped around her finger.

After a week the unrest in Russia flared back into violence, and Natasha called Maggie in. She pressed a kiss on Morgan's soft, sleeping forehead, and squashed Pepper and Tony together in a hug.

"Stay," Tony said. "I've barely had to change a single diaper with you here."

She smiled as she pulled away. "I have to go, you know I do."

"I don't know anything," he said stubbornly.

Pepper shook her head. "We'll see you soon, Maggie."

Maggie nodded, waved one last time, and then strode out the door. When her nanotech armor slid over her skin and her wings flicked out she realized that for the first time in a long time, she didn't feel empty.

Things were different for Maggie after that.

She was still the Wyvern, still made herself busy by trying to keep the world from falling into complete disaster, but something had changed irrevocably deep inside her. She knew she might never be able to turn away from the void which ached in her chest. But she had a family: a brother, a sister in law, some semblance of a team. And she had Morgan, a niece she intended to spoil rotten and hide her grief from, because a child deserved to grow up knowing that she is loved and that the people who love her will shield her from the world. Maggie could be a shield for Morgan.

The weeks and months wore on. Maggie visited the house by the lake often, bringing Morgan gifts from around the world and from other planets. She watched Morgan's sharp mind develop amongst love and family; so different from how she and Tony grew up, being constantly tested and measured. Each time she visited, something had changed: Morgan had started smiling, dazzling and bright; Tony and Pepper had figured out their routine and seemed so much more in control than the last visit; Morgan had learned to roll over. On longer missions Maggie video called in, and Tony held Morgan up to the camera saying in a soft voice: "Look! It's Auntie Maggie!" as Maggie waved with whoever happened to be around her at the time. Rocket seemed to get a kick out of seeing 'Terran offspring', Nebula was silent and stoic as always but Maggie could tell she loved the calls, and Carol, surprisingly, was great with babies: she cooed and made funny faces which had Morgan in stitches.

Maggie was there for Morgan's first word: Dad. Months later she returned from a mission in Southeast Asia, and when she walked into the living room to hear a delighted cry of "Maggie!", something inside her glowed and healed. She rushed to scoop her niece up and whirl her around, eliciting peals of laughter, and exclaimed "You're a genius!"

She told a joke on her next mission, making Rocket laugh and Nebula crack a smile.

"Was that a joke?" Rocket questioned, still chortling.

Maggie was already surprised at herself, and having someone point it out made her feel awkward. So she just sniffed and said: "Yes. I'm a very funny person, Rocket."

"Could've fooled me," he drawled. He jerked his head at Nebula. "Maybe you two should do stand up together."

"No," replied Nebula.

Soon after that, Tony sent Maggie a video of Morgan's first wobbly steps from the safety of Tony's arms and into Pepper's embrace.

As Morgan grew and learned at a startling rate, Maggie played blocks and helped change diapers and told Morgan the kinder stories about the places she'd been. Morgan was growing into an inquisitive, quirky child with a mind to match her father's, and she loved the stories of far off places and machines that the Earth hadn't seen. When Morgan went to playgroups and met other children, she knew that she was different. But unlike Maggie and Tony, it didn't change her; she didn't have to fight to be recognized or to be deserving. She was surrounded by people who loved her.

Every time Maggie visited, Tony hassled her to stay. He even bought the house further around the lake, because apparently his dumb spending habits hadn't changed since becoming a father. Maggie admired the house, but still said that she couldn't stay. So he leased it out, and Maggie stayed in the spare room when she visited. It became a running dialogue between them – him pestering her to stay, and her turning him down.

Maggie also made more of a point to keep visiting the Avengers who no longer went on missions. In this world it was always difficult between people who had lost shared loved ones. Every minute you spent together the lost ones were there, painful and prescient. For a long time, Maggie had found it easier to stay away. It was still difficult, especially with Steve, and sometimes Tony still, but she made herself make the effort.

She helped Bruce with his work (his transformation had been successful, leaving him as a strange mixture of Bruce Banner and the Hulk, and Maggie found herself slipping into hours-long conversations with him over experiment result readouts and excessive portions of food). She also visited Steve every time she was in town – mostly they just sat and drank, but the company was nice.

She and Rhodey spent a good deal of time together on missions, and when Maggie was at the facility she felt a kinship with Natasha – they were both driven by a similar desire to put things right, though their own emptiness still ate at them from within.

The universe fell back to some kind of order, but things were so different. Each place and each day was so sad, so utterly infected by the loss of the Decimation. After a time, Maggie realized that there was no fixing that. She just had to keep people alive, and hope that they could figure out the rest.

Before Maggie knew it Morgan had turned one, and then two – birthdays and milestones slipped past while they were all busy living. At the Decimation anniversaries, which were commemorated across the universe with an outpouring of grief, Maggie made sure to be on a mission. She couldn't be around Tony, Pepper, and Morgan like that. She couldn't infect them with the grief that she couldn't hide on that day.

One night on the ship, a night like any other, Maggie woke up sweaty and scared, with Carol holding her down to keep her from leaping out of bed. Maggie instantly tried to strike her, but Carol just dodged and continued holding her down with her irrepressible strength.

"What… what…" Maggie gasped for breath.

"You were shouting in your sleep," Carol murmured, her voice soothing. "I was worried you were going to hurt yourself."

Maggie wiped her forehead and nodded, her chest still heaving.

Carol's grip loosened. "You kept shouting a name. Bucky."

And at that, Maggie crumpled. She remembered now: in her dream she'd been running through the forest in Wakanda, branches lashing her bloody face and her feet reverberating on the earth. She knew she had to get to Bucky to keep him from drifting away, but the forest was thick and he was out of sight.

Carol sat on the edge of Maggie's bed as Maggie shuddered, her arms wrapped around her knees and her face pressed into her pillow.

After a few long minutes, Carol spoke. "That's who you lost, isn't it? Bucky?"

Almost three years, and I haven't told them his name. Maggie's heart wrenched.

"The metal-armed guy, right?" That was Rocket's voice. She looked up and spotted him in the bunk doorway, holding a glass of water. Nebula stood behind him, her face impassive as always.

Maggie nodded, then uncurled herself so she could sit on her bunk beside Carol. Rocket paced over and handed her the glass of water, which she took with a shaky smile.

She tipped the glass against her lips and emptied it, and then took a sharp and painful breath. "That's him," she croaked. Get it out, Stark. "I, uh… I'd only just got him back that day, and I was so sure that I was never going to let him go again. And then…." She spread her palms, imagining ash on the wind.

"Seemed like a good guy," Rocket murmured, his beady eyes warm in the darkness. Nebula leaned against the doorway, her silent presence steadying in the wake of the nightmare.

"He was," Maggie whispered. Carol wrapped an arm around her and squeezed her tight.

Things weren't fixed. Morgan wasn't a cure to a universe full of grief.

But all the same, Maggie knew that Morgan had saved her. She'd been a keystone to some kind of identity for Maggie, some kind of reason for living. Not the whole reason, but her arrival was the beginning of a journey. Maggie also knew that she'd always be grieving, always lonely and filled with howling rage and emptiness, but it was a life. Her own grief didn't eat her up so much these days. She didn't scream so much in the darkness. She stopped talking to imagined voices in some effort to make the night less lonely. She stopped sending messages through the Kimoyo bead that would never be answered.

She was able to say Bucky's name.

The world had a future, Morgan Stark had a future. And Maggie Stark's job was to fight to make that future safe, and happy, and whole.