I swear, all these plot points are relevant! I'm just trying to set them up in a way that makes sense, is all! Thanks again to everyone who's read this story. You guys are the best!

"I don't like this," Clint said, sitting heavily on the end of the bed. The room JARVIS had brought them to was beautiful, but neither Natasha or him could focus on that.

"I know," Natasha nodded.

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Clint took his sunglasses out of his pocket and slid them on. The cheap plastic bit into his skin uncomfortably, but it was better than having people know he wasn't looking them in the eye when they were talking to him.

They also couldn't see his eyes, and he had grown a little too tired of people not-so-subtly checking to make sure his eyes weren't still that horrifying shade of too-bright blue.

"I wish Coulson were here," he said eventually. Walking into an unfamiliar situation was fine with both his handler and his partner at his back. With Natasha, it was bearable, but they made it work. If it was ever him and only him for some God-forsaken reason, Clint was sure he'd refuse.

"I know," Natasha said again, quieter. Clint could see tears forming in her eyes, and she sucked in a breath, pacing up and down the room.

Neither of them spoke.

"Miss Romanov, Mr. Stark has some questions for you," JARVIS said, not even a hint of static announcing his presence.

Clint stood up. "I'm coming with you," he said. It was irrational – he knew Stark would never hurt her – but a part of him that had woken up with Loki still hadn't gone back to sleep. "I'm coming," he repeated, wishing he didn't feel like he couldn't be left alone.

"Okay," Natasha said, turning and leaving the room in front of him.

Clint followed, not quite sure what to do with the easy trust Natasha still seemed to have in him.

o0o

Steve wished he'd never woken up. It was a terrible sentiment, he knew, but there was a part of him that was exhausted of being picked up and tossed into unfamiliar situations without a word of warning, and it was getting larger. He'd woken up from the ice and been told he was suddenly seventy years in the future, and then, two weeks later, told he was needed to fight intergalactic aliens with no explanations.

Now, Brooklyn didn't even feel like home.

He'd found an apartment in the same area he'd grown up in, but it was different now. The sounds outside his window at night, the smells in the streets, even the buildings themselves felt wrong and unfamiliar.

He lay down on his couch, almost wishing he'd stayed at S.H.I.E.L.D.

There was a buzzing in his pocket, and he took the phone he'd been given out of his pocket. The caller ID read Stark and he rolled his eyes before answering.

"Hey, Cap, we need you back here," Tony said.

Steve opened his mouth to say no, it's fine, please don't, but Tony kept talking.

"Listen, I know you're tired of people yanking your chain. Believe me, so am I. But we need you here, Cap."

Steve could tell it wasn't a joke. He'd seen Howard when he was sincere, and his son had the same sound in his voice now. "All right," he said. "Stark Tower?"

"Got it in one."

Steve sat up, grabbing the duffle bag he hadn't properly unpacked yet and headed out the door. In a strange way, heading back to the Tower felt right, like that was the one place he actually belonged, but he didn't allow himself to think too hard about it as he started up his motorcycle and headed towards Manhattan.

o0o

"What aren't you telling me?" Peter's question caught Gamora off guard.

"What?" she asked, looking at him over the table covered in maps and charts.

Peter shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "It feels like both you and Rocket are keeping something from me and I don't like it." He held up a hand. "And before you tell me I'm crazy," he went on, "I can tell when Rocket's lying. He's got his tells."

Gamora looked up at him, meeting his eyes. "Peter, I don't lie to people I love," she said firmly. "Thanos lied to me about everything when I was young. Why would I do that to you?"

Peter shrugged, still staring at her. "It just – I don't know. There's something about this planet that I can recognize. Like, it already knows me." He laughed, "I know, it sounds nuts, but I swear it's true."

"Hey, Quill!" Rocket shouted from the cockpit, cutting off any reply Gamora might have tried to make. "I think I found it!"

Peter answered, already almost halfway up the stairs. "Ego?"

"Maybe," Rocket said. "Energy signature's similar."

Thirty seconds later, Gamora was left alone. I'm sorry, she apologized mentally. I swear I'm not trying to hurt you.

o0o

In his office, Nick Fury looked over the reports. "You're sure these are accurate?" he said, fixing the doctor with an unflinching stare.

"Y-yes sir," the doctor stammered. "The patient is responding well to treatment and should be fully conscious within the next two days."

"'Should be' isn't good enough," Fury said. "I need numbers."

"98.7 certainty, sir," the doctor replied, backing up with each syllable in a completely unsubtle attempt to leave the director's office.

Fury sighed. "Get out of here," he said. The doctor was gone before he finished speaking, and he looked down at the papers again. For your sake, I hope this works, Phil.