Tony hated this. He hated it a lot. His hands wouldn’t sit still- correction, he couldn’t sit still. He went to and fro in the Mansion’s sitting area like restless, choppy water. He hadn’t seen this Francis since he was a toddler. He didn’t even know Francis had been alive (or Clint for that matter) until Pepper had softly broken the news to him after his arrival. The thought of not only seeing him, but broaching the topic of his parents had Tony very much feeling untethered.
He had good days and bad days when it came to accepting his past mistakes. The good days were getting more numerous, but they weren’t enough to outweigh the task ahead of them. He wanted to go blow something up in his lab, but his watch glared accusingly at him. No time for that now, Francis would be here soon. With a deep exhale, Tony gripped the back of the couch firmly and tried to get his head straight. After all that Francis had already been through, he didn’t deserve to deal with Tony having a meltdown. He breathed slowly for a minute before chancing a look over at Pepper. “I’m okay. I can do this.”
Elbow already on the back of the couch because she'd been watching, fist to her temple, Tony roam around behind this couch most recently, Pepper raised her head and dropped her arm to grip the hand closer to her. She slid her thumb along the side of his hand, back and forth, and then squeezed. There was no taking away any of this from Tony, nor would she have wanted to if she could. What she could do, and would always do, was be there with him, at his side, sharing all of it so the burden wasn't his alone.
"Yes, you can. You haven't gotten to tell him anything in your memory, but in his, you have," she reminded him, once again, because the point honestly needed frequent reinforcement right now. Tony could never be the kind of man who would take a way out when it came to Ultron, not even when that out was his future self. He wouldn't be able to stand it if he didn't get to apologize to Francis himself. "He knows the worst and he's lived with that knowledge for a while now."
She tugged his hand in hers closer to her and kissed the back of his knuckles. "He's not going to run out the door, never to be seen again. He wants to be here. He wants to see you."
Her touch helped ground him and Tony felt some of the anxiety locking up his chest begin to ease slightly. He did his best to listen to her, because he knew she was right. It was a rare thing when she wasn’t, and he was always better off for listening to her, regardless. Yet even Pepper Stark’s logic and reassurances couldn’t completely take on his own burden of guilt. Tony nodded and looked at her with love in his eyes. He didn’t have time to say anything else before H.O.M.E.R. announced the arrival of their guest.
Outside the mansion, Francis Barton felt a little overwhelmed. He’d gotten pretty good at compartmentalizing his life the best he could, and the box with his parents was generally sealed pretty firmly in the most guarded part of his heart. Now he was faced with the place they’d once considered home. Where all three of them, and the others, had been together. Had been safe. He tried to strain his memory for any scrap of familiarity, but found none. With a stoic expression, Francis braced himself and made his way up the stairway to the front door.
Having chosen the sitting room to pass the time waiting for Francis specifically because it was right off the main foyer, Pepper and Tony didn't leave Francis waiting long. H.O.M.E.R. could have opened the door without them there – J.A.R.V.I.S. had certainly wanted to – but the Mansion was already extra enough to most people seeing it for the first time. They weren't about to add a multi-A.I. welcome for the nephew-by-choice who had grown up avoiding all manner of technology in order to survive. So it was a human hand, trembling ever so slightly with Pepper's anticipation, that pulled open the door.
It was immediately apparent to Pepper that she was looking at the Francis Barton who had lived in the remnants of New York City and not grown up in Vallo, she would have known even without being told that Torunn and James' Francis was here. He and Francis of the future could have certainly fooled many even standing side by side, she was sure, but there was a tangible, heartaching difference in everything from the way this Francis held himself to his gaze itself. Years away from that world didn't erase it. Pepper knew what war looked like in young-old eyes and she knew what it had looked like in Clint and Bobbi's for so many years of so many conflicts.
Pepper had, prior to this moment, had every intention of greeting Francis and letting him in and closing the door and other measured actions to not potentially overwhelm the young man. She told Tony they should do as much because all the kids were so different. But she hadn't expected it to hit this hard as he stood framed by the doorway.
"Hi," was all she got out before she moved forward and embraced him without restraint.
Thanks to his time in Blackpoint, Francis was well acquainted with a version of Pepper (and Tony), but this was his first time meeting the version who actually knew him. Who had been around when he was born. It was far more surreal than he could have imagined. So he was a little slow to respond when she pulled him into a tight hug.
After a moment or two for his brain to catch up to everything, Francis raised his hands up and returned the hug. “Hi,” he muffled slightly into red hair.
“Pep,” Tony’s voice came from behind them. “This was not part of the plan. I remember because you told me multiple times.”
Tony had her, a truly solid call out that she had no defense against, so–
"You get that one, Stark," she grumbled, still holding on to Francis now that he had returned the embrace, "but it's not starting any new precedent, so enjoy it."
Only when Francis' grip changed, in the subtle body language of hugging that indicated one side wanted to end it, did Pepper release him and step back. But only a step or two, to be able to comfortably look at him.
"I'd apologize," she said to Francis, smile soft, "but I'm not very sorry, I'm afraid.
“It’s okay,” Francis gave her a crooked, half smile and expression that said he truly didn’t mind. He was a kid who hadn’t gotten a plethora of hugs throughout his lifetime. While he would never voice that out loud, it certainly didn’t stop him from enjoying them when he got them.
His gaze slipped from Pepper over to Tony, who was a few feet behind, looking apprehensive. Younger than the last time they’d met. His dark hair only streaked with gray instead of white. James and Torunn had explained what point in time Tony was from, but it was still weird as hell. Though, he supposed, not any weirder than seeing the Mansion or Pepper.
“Come on in, Barton.” Tony gave him a smile and waved him forward. Normally Francis could easily stroll into any room with confidence, but this one still gave him pause. As Tony led the way from the foyer and into a sitting room, Francis couldn’t help but try to take in everything at once. Not just every picture, every nick-knack on a shelf, but every door, every window, every exit. Some things would never go away entirely.
“This is quite the place you’ve got.”
That crooked smile nearly took Pepper out right where she was standing, because Francis couldn't have looked more like Clint wearing it if he had deliberately tried. It was only the fact that she was facing Francis and not Tony that kept her from shooting Tony a look that would have come off as a bit panicked. It was so much different meeting Francis than it had been meeting James and Torunn, because when she'd met them, it was straight off of dying and everything felt moderate by comparison. She was comfortably settled in Vallo now, so instead it felt as though everything had the chance of being too uncontrolled.
Get it together. She was Pepper Stark, for pete's sake. She could handle a crisis in her sleep - and this was not remotely even a crisis.
She watched Francis taking in the room and finally did shoot Tony a look. With how quickly and thoroughly it looked like Francis was assessing the room, bringing him here first had been the right choice. There were so many memories, and so much visual record of those memories, in other places in the Mansion, even if Francis didn't remember anything. He'd been only five at the time and gentle memories were often no match in longevity when put up against later traumatic memories.
"We thought starting in this room would be a good idea, it wasn't one you ever spent much time in-" she smiled, nostalgically amused. "At least not willingly."
Tony’s gaze had been pretty firmly trained on Francis, who was the walking embodiment of both of his parents, looks and attitude alike. It hurt to breathe just looking at him, and he was working diligently to stave off memories of his lost friends. There would be time for that later. This wasn’t about him, this was about Francis. And Tony wasn’t ready to risk Bobbi Barton’s fury from across the multiverse if he did anything but look after her son like his own.
Again, Francis tried to strain his memory for something, anything. He thought maybe some things felt familiar…or perhaps it was just his brain searching for something to hold onto. Pepper’s comments caught his attention, though. “Yeah? Which rooms did I like best?”
The question made Pepper laugh, albeit quietly.
"The kitchen," she said, but there was a teasing edge to the question. "The family room. The arcade. The combat simulation room. There were a few preschooler friendly programs you and James and Torunn liked. The pathology lab is on that same floor. You'd do anything to be in there when Bobbi was working - you never sat as still as you did in there."
The list had quickly gone from recitation to anecdotal, but Pepper caught herself when the anecdote that so unthinkingly and easily fell from her lips served to be the sharp edge she unthinkingly stabbed herself with just as easily. The pain was fierce and hot as she glanced at Tony and just as quickly glanced away before she set them both off. But outwardly, Pepper just turned a sheepish look Francis' way.
As soon as Pepper mentioned the path lab, Tony felt his stomach knot. He knew she hadn’t done it on purpose. With her enhanced memory, it made sense that it would be rattled off so easily. He tried to give her a soft look when she immediately threw a glance his way. He’d been about to say something else, just to change the topic, when Pepper spoke up again.
"I'm sorry. Usually I'm the one with some restraint and not the one barreling straight forward. Are you thirsty? Hungry?"
Francis was most decidedly not hungry. In fact, he felt like he’d been gut punched. The way Pepper had described him being in the lab with his mom felt like it had knocked the air out of him. It wasn’t entirely a bad thing, though. Because yes, while there was pain, there was also more there. Happiness and memories, and pieces of his life that would have been forever lost. “No, no, it’s okay.” He shook his head firmly. “That’s why I’m here, right?”
Pepper's nod said agreement with his statement, because it was factually true, but her expression was conflicted as she did it, because they didn't intend to throw him into the deep end of all of this – and there was a deep end waiting.
"It is," she said, moving close to him, but this time she limited herself to a hand on his upper arm, "but at your pace, not mine or Tony's or anyone else's. We're not going to dump everything into your lap and then walk away."
Francis gave her a genuine smile. He knew this must be hard for them too, and he sincerely appreciated them setting that aside to give him the opportunity just to be here.
“Maybe we can start with the kitchen, then? Since it was my favorite and all. Plus it’s a prime opportunity to tell me stories about my dad screwing up in there.”
"The kitchen it is." Pepper patted his arm lightly and then let go fully to head in the direction of the doorway. As she did, she passed Tony with a subtle brush of bodies and squeeze of hands – nothing too overt, but very meaningful in the silent support and grounding it provided. He had it together better than she did by virtue of being too overcome to easily ramble but his anxiety was communicated in body language. He needed the reassurance that they would be able to do this and she needed the reminder that she could stop herself from overdoing this.
Pepper lead the way to the kitchen and then stepped into the room at an angle so she could watch Francis' reactions and further explorations without directly staring at him. The coffee waiting was fresh – all A.I. had stuck to the plan even when she hadn't and continued to go unheard and their actions unseen – so Pepper headed for that to give her something to do with her hands.
Not that anyone likely needed caffeine right now.
Tony was supremely grateful for the touch. Once again, he just needed that small moment of grounding to keep the emotions from becoming too overwhelming. He squeezed her hand back and gave her an encouraging look in return. They would get through this together. For Francis, and for Bobbi and Clint.
Tony fell in behind Pepper as they made their way to the kitchen, and Francis brought up the rear. The kitchen, as with most every room in the mansion, was gigantic. And Francis was both shocked and pleased to find that this room did feel familiar. His expression really softened for the first time since he’d entered the front gate. There was a wide window behind the kitchen sink that looked out into the backyard. A pool framed by lounge chairs and landscaping. “There were parties out there, weren’t there?” He looked from Tony and Pepper back to the window again.
Pepper tried not to look too pleased at his question, but she couldn't help but shoot Tony a look of minor victory. It had been more difficult with James and Torunn, because even with their enhanced and Asgardian brains, they had still only been three when they fled the Mansion. Francis had been five when he, Clint, and Bobbi couldn't reach the Mansion that night, and he also had the potential (so much had been unknown then of the consequences of the Infinity Formula passed genetically) of an enhanced mind. Maybe Francis would recall more or with greater detail.
"There were often parties, yes. The view through that window used to be straight-on, not downward," she said as she gestured to indicate a straight eyeline, before the gesture then followed the angle that now existed from the one story difference. "When Vallo gave us the Mansion, it decided to play around with the arrangement of the floors. This used to be the ground floor."
Tony quickly conceded to Pepper’s victory glance with a smile and a small nod. This was exactly the type of response they’d both been hoping for. Hoping, but not counting on. Tony had worked to temper his expectations too much. He found himself quite pleased that it had been a somewhat unnecessary precaution.
Francis, meanwhile, moved closer to the window to get a better look at the backyard. The memory had sparked an eagerness in him that he hadn’t felt in a long time. Though he tried to remain outwardly calm, he was hungry for more. His eyes roamed the property as he strained his mind to remember. There was laughter and kids in floaties, and- Francis turned from the window to look at Tony.
“Did my mom tie you to an inner tube once?”
The sound that escaped Tony then could have been a laugh. Especially as he caught himself afterward. But anyone who knew him well, like Pepper, could tell there was more to it than that. A deep seated sound of grief tied to a memory that hadn’t been thought of in years. He smiled and gave Francis an affirmative nod.
“She sure as hell did. Left me there for at least an hour, too.”
Francis didn't end up hearing a laugh-but-not from Pepper too, because the question invoked the memory, and Pepper's throat suddenly ached so hard that it felt difficult to swallow, let alone speak. If she closed her eyes, she would be able to see it all herself, not just the general gathering – she and Tony had experienced that in Vallo in those shared dreams – but that specific action and the aftermath, from Tony's protestations to the cocktail umbrellas Steve had stuck into his hair instead of untying him.
Cocktail umbrellas.
Suddenly abandoning the cups of coffee she had poured, Pepper – with a reassuring smile that she wasn't walking out of the room, as well as encouragement to Tony to keep talking – made her way into the pantry and then to a closet within the pantry that held various kitchen cleaning supplies and shelves of storage containers of various types and sizes. When the Mansion had arrived, it hadn't arrived empty at all, from furniture and decor to personal belongings to things as mundane as coffee filters and paper plates. The more personal and emotional items in common areas had been steadily stored away – within reach, but not constantly in sight – near where they had belonged and doors to entire rooms had been shut (though still unlocked to those on a journey to past times). That had included the kitchen and its wealth of child-friendly items from a time now long gone with those children either adults or not here.
She had to fold down a step stool to compensate for her height even in heels, but up she went to examine the containers until she found the one she wanted to pull free. It contained cocktail umbrellas, yes, which was what had made her think of it, but it was the cups and straws and plates adorned with all kinds of prints, from animals to the superheroes the kids knew as family, that she was after. Pulling off the lid, she set it aside, and went back out of the closet and the pantry with her find.
Pepper’s abrupt mission had caught both of the boys’ attention and Tony and Francis alike watched her with curiosity as she began searching the pantry for something.
“You know what she’s doing?” Francis stage whispered to Tony, who shook his head in reply.
“Not a clue, but I’m sure whatever it is will be good.”
When she returned carrying a box, Francis raised a curious eyebrow while Tony chuckled at the sight of those damned cocktail umbrellas. He’d give anything to have Steve here trolling him again.
Francis peered inside the box and rummaged a bit through the plastic plates and cups. After a moment he pulled a crazy straw free and twirled it in his fingers. “This one was my favorite.”
The box of things had been fetched to elicit a memory, but even if they hadn't, Pepper had thought it would at least be a cheesy sort of fun thing to counter the more poignant things to follow. James had fully leaned into the comical when she had shown these things to him and Torunn. From the stories James and Torunn had told about Francis, she hoped he might find similar entertainment out of something that could too-easily become morose for she and Tony.
Francis pulled that crazy straw out so quickly, though, that it simultaneously made Pepper want to show him everything they could and want to abort the entire process because if his memory was this good, it would make the harder moments even more painful. But this belonged to Francis, far beyond a brightly colored, bent and twisted straw.
"Yes," she said, lightly touching his wrist for a moment before withdrawing. "You're welcome to have it. James has a lemur cup stashed in the kitchenette downstairs, near the workshop, for his coffee sometimes."
Francis stared intently at the straw for a moment. It was such an odd feeling. He subconsciously twirled it around his fingers again in a move that was all Clint. He placed it gently back in the box. “Keep it here for me? Besides, if I start trying to collect stuff while I’m here, who knows what I’ll walk out with.”
Torunn had only ever been Torunn to Pepper because she still, willfully, ignored moments that Torunn might have reminded her of Thor. If there were ones she couldn't ignore, then she easily slotted them into the category of reminding her of the Thor in Vallo and the versions of that Thor she had known before. Those reminders didn't bring the pain of lost loved ones. Over the years, it had been easier to get through the moments when James reminded her of Natalia or Steve or the combination, though there were times it was still so damn difficult.
This, though. Watching Francis execute that little dexterity check that was second nature to Clint? That felt like a fresh wound, a ragged and painful thing, where the beautiful memory couldn't stand alone yet. She had known other Clints, but that didn't make this easier. No, this was the son of two of her best friends who she hadn't seen since before the last hours of that final fight and right now the pain was Clint centric.
Pepper was starting to feel very out of control in a way she couldn't control (because that made sense and didn't sound nonsensical at all, sure). Her professional and personal image predominantly involved how easy she made it look to reorder chaos. Most of the time, Pepper lived comfortably in the hype. This was not one of those times. She had to get it together. She was not going to make Tony have to scrape her emotional wellbeing off the floor, not when she knew he was feeling like this too.
She sighed, controlling the shakiness of it fairly well, and smiled at Francis again.
"There's enough in this place that belongs to you that I think it'll survive whatever collecting you want to do," she said, and gently pushed the box away from the edge of the counter.
"What would you like to see next?"
It wasn’t an easy afternoon, by any stretch of the imagination. However, it was incredibly gratifying. Tony and Pepper guided Francis around the mansion, room by room. Some he remembered better than others, and some not at all. Throughout it all, he could see the pain etched in their features. Surprisingly, it made him feel closer to the both of them. Francis Barton liked to hide his feelings behind sarcastic humor and dry remarks, but he was someone who carried remarkable tragedy around on his shoulders every day. Just like they did. He hadn’t bonded with many adults the way James and Torunn had over the years. Francis had his teammates and he had Cassie and he was good with that. He didn’t want those parental influences because he already had his. Nothing and no one would take that from him. But Pepper and Tony, they knew his parents. Maybe better than anyone else did. And that made him want to get to know them better too. So it wasn’t just questions about his parents or the past that he asked as they continued through the home, he asked about them too.
He’d lost track of the time in all their wandering and reminiscing, but eventually there was no putting it off any longer. Tony gave Pepper a long look before he turned to face Francis. “It’ll still be here if you want to wait for another day.” It was said partly for Francis’ benefit, but also partly his own. While he was doing better than he thought it would at keeping things together, he was getting close to his max capacity. He reached out to take ahold of Pepper’s hand for that grounding touch.
“No, it’s- I’m good. I want to see it.” Francis gave a firm nod of his head to confirm.
The floor they currently occupied was far from abandoned – Tony and Pepper lived here, after all, and the spectre of memories would be on any floor had they chosen to relocate – but it was very obviously closed door after closed door in either direction (including James and Torunn's rooms for their use when they were here). They weren't all locked, however, because Pepper had unlocked these two rooms before Francis had come over, in preparation for this to be the end goal.
If Francis called it off now, Pepper would have supported him. They could do this another day, for as many days as he need. She had been in these rooms since the Mansion had added this floor, not just for the initial check to see if everyone's belongings were partially or completely here, but infrequently since that time when she wanted to feel closer to her lost loved ones. It was immeasurably difficult to be in the rooms, but sometimes the grief was worse and it then became impossible to stay away. The rooms were kept clean thanks to both excellent air systems and some maintenance care, but very few things had been disturbed. If Pepper picked up an object, she put it back, and very personal items had remained untouched.
So, in effect, Clint and Bobbi's room and Francis' own room, were still straight out of time.
Pepper threaded her fingers through Tony's, but her attention was on Francis.
"Do you want to see your room first?" she asked him, gesturing at the door. It was up to him now – though this entire journey had predominantly already been so – as to which he chose first and whether he chose to go in accompanied or alone to either room.
Francis considered her question. Eventually he gave a firm nod. Yes, his room would probably be the better place to start. He wasn’t sure what sort of frame of mind he’d be in after visiting his parents’.
He moved to open the door she’d gestured too. The knob turned easily and he stepped in. The door was left open behind him, an invitation for the adults to join him if they wanted.
A space mural was painted on the far wall. Planets and stars and a rocket ship zipping along. The bed was made neatly, with the yellow and green comforter and space themed pillows. A teddy bear dressed as an astronaut sat comfortably against the pillows.
A memory surfaced and Francis looked up at the ceiling. The stars his mom had painted in glow in the dark paint were still there. He swallowed the lump that had risen up in his throat.
He moved quietly, barely making a sound as he drifted around the room, touching various objects. There was a desk near the corner. It was child sized, the perfect height for a 5 year old, so Francis had to bend down to open the drawers. Tucked inside was a drawing. Done in crayons and filled completely with color, it was the creation of a bright and happy kid who still had a whole life ahead of him. Clint, Bobbi, and Francis Barton. Stick figures, of course, but easily distinguishable nonetheless. They were smiling and happy and holding hands.
Francis gingerly picked it up and blinked back a few tears.
Pepper moved to the door, but she didn't attempt to take Tony any further unless he indicated he wanted to go inside. So much of their grief was shared, and shared openly with each other, but there were times they needed to sit with it privately. Pepper coped better, even though it was so much more painful, by being able to linger in the spaces that Steve, Nat, Clint, Bobbi, and more had occupied full time or partial time, to feel closer to them and to keep all the anecdotes alive as the memories they were born from and not just memories of the told stories. She would never push Tony to do the same; it was his choice.
When Francis pulled the paper free, Pepper didn't have to know what exactly was drawn on it to know what was drawn on it.
She squeezed Tony's hand, tight, and then let go so she could cross the room to stand just behind Francis' shoulder. She rested a hand on that shoulder, her thumb moving over his shirt.
"You were happy here. Even when the war started, we all tried to find a balance between letting you have the lives you'd known and preparing you for multiple contingency plans. Maybe it wasn't healthy to make games out of skills, but it kept all of you busy and entertained and protected from the war. We always hoped it was working because you continued to draw happy scenes. "
Tony hated himself for leaving Pepper to enter the room by herself. He should have been at her side, a support system for her as she’d always been for him. He knew that with every fiber of himself, but he still couldn’t bring himself to do it. He just couldn’t- wouldn’t- enter those rooms that were moments captured in time. Filled with memories of how things were before everything went to hell. Perhaps with more time he could find a way, but for now he couldn’t make his feet move. Still in the hallway, he crossed his arms protectively over his chest and watched them without a word.
Francis clocked the telltale sound of Pepper’s heels on the floor as she approached, so he was prepared for the hand on his shoulder. What did surprise him, though, was the rage that he felt boiling in his stomach. Not toward her of course, but at the situation. That this happy kid who liked looking at the stars and coloring had been so completely destroyed. He hadn’t died, but the Francis Barton who drew this picture had. Gone and replaced with someone who made sure he had an exit strategy for every room he entered, who knew more about combat strategy than pop culture. Memories of his father teaching him skills to survive and not just as contingency plans filled his head and Francis was overtaken with a sudden, violent urge to crumple up the drawing in his hands and throw it against the wall.
He didn’t, though. He drew in a deep breath and held it for a count of four before exhaling. He leaned back down and placed the undamaged drawing in the drawer. As he turned back to Pepper, he gave her a long look. “I’d like to see their room now, please.”
That long look was raw and Pepper understood that rawness. She almost embraced him then, but there was something she needed to do first. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a basic keyring with multiple keys, some much older and clearly belonging to the antique knobs, and some that were modern, belonging to the door that joined both this room and the next. Everything up here could easily be controlled by various systems and A.I. and emergency protocols, but she absolutely hadn't wanted Francis to feel like he was being spied on by things he couldn't see.
"I disabled the panels beside the doors for now because I disabled monitoring access to these rooms for the moment." She caught one of his hands and pressed the keys into his palm. "But the keys are yours even when the panels are live."
Her gaze roved over Francis before she spoke again.
"I can go in with you or Tony and I can go back to the hallway."
Francis’ hand closed slowly over the keys, which were still slightly warm from when they’d been in her pocket. His eyes went from her, to Tony still in the hallway, to the closed adjoining door.
“I’d like to go by myself, if that’s okay.” A part of him felt bad, even though she’d been the one to offer him alone time. It wasn’t that he minded their company, and in fact he’d been grateful for it up until this point. But that anger was still there, creeping under his skin and Francis didn’t know how that might affect him going into the next room. Whatever he was, he’d rather it be a private moment.
"Of course it is, sweetheart," Pepper said, and then she did embrace Francis. It was no weak hug by far and she hoped it communicated the support and love offered now and always. As she pulled back from the embrace, she cradled his face for a moment, and then she released him to the monumental challenge waiting for him.
"We'll be right outside if you need anything, but you don't need to rush because of that. Take all the time you need."
With a last look, Pepper headed for the door, but she didn't look at Tony until it was firmly shut behind them. Even then, she didn't really look at him, because the way she turned into him and wrapped her arms around his neck wasn't really conducive to looks.
Tony was already moving forward to meet Pepper once she’d begun heading for the door. He could do that much for her, at least. He swept her into his arms and pulled her close, and tears stung his own eyes as she buried her face against him.
On the other side of the door, Francis continued to hold tight to the keys in his hand. Eventually he slipped them safely into his pocket and moved forward to open the door that led to his parents’ room.
The first thing that struck him was the mess. Everywhere else they’d visited within the mansion had been pretty immaculate, including his own room. That was most definitely not the case for Clint and Bobbi’s room. A jacket (his dad’s) was half hanging off the bedpost. A haphazard stack of books at least five deep was on the nightstand. A pair of jeans was tossed over the back of a chair next to a pair of boots. The dresser was covered with a variety of trick arrows and knives. A half filled laundry basket sat askew in the corner.
It wasn’t dirty, just lived in. As if the occupants had been in a rush that morning and hurried off with the intent to clean up later. Except they never did. Francis felt his chest tighten as he stepped fully into the room and closed the door behind him. There was emotion there, of course. He could feel it building as he tried to take in everything around him, but it was still manageable.
He called up images of his parents, one clearer than the other, and envisioned them in this room. Bickering, laughing, talking. He was relieved when some of that previous anger seemed to ebb away. It was still there, simmering below the surface and likely something he’d be forced to deal with later. For now, though, he could set it aside. Francis moved to the dresser and picked up a knife.
A flash of Bobbi yelling Clint’s name, ordering him to get away. To get him away. Francis’ knuckles on the grip turned white and he placed it back down exactly where it had been.
“Mom?” His voice was low and quiet. “Dad?”
It wasn’t that he really expected them to answer. He didn’t believe in ghosts that way. But if there was ever a time to talk to his parents, here in this room, surrounded by their things felt like the place to do it.
“I miss you.” Tears burned at the corners of his eyes now and emotion had crept into his voice. “I really fucking miss you. But I’m doing okay. We stopped Ultron, you know. Me and James, and the others. Couldn’t have done it without everything you taught me.”
He turned away from the dresser and moved slowly toward the closet. His arm felt heavy as he reached out and pulled the door open. Even though he knew it was coming, there was just no preparing Francis for the wall of memory that slammed into him there. That closet wasn’t just a closet. It was filled with a scent that was so fundamentally his parents, that it caused Francis to finally break down.
Tears streaking down his face, he sank to the floor. Francis was a lot of things; a leader, a survivor, an Avenger. But he was also just a kid who’d lost both of his parents before his 15th birthday. He’d set it aside at home because everything else had to take precedent, but here he could finally let himself grieve. Maybe for the first time.
He stayed there on the floor of the closet until the tears stopped coming. When they finally ran dry, he felt calmer, lighter. Eventually he pushed himself back up to his feet and closed the closet gently behind him.
“I’ll come back again soon.” The words were practically a whisper as he pressed his hand against the door. Was he talking to them? Himself? It didn’t really matter. Francis wiped his face and exhaled deeply.
“I’ll come back again soon.” The words were a little louder that time, and accompanied by the smallest of smiles. One more glance around the room seared the image of it into his mind, and with that, Francis slipped back out the door to go find Tony and Pepper.