All Signs Point to Yes
Y/N found herself wandering the edge of the lake that bordered one end of Tony’s property in the woods. She felt… maybe empty? Maybe full? She wasn’t sure.
Her eyes had stayed on the laurels in the lake until they floated out of sight, Mark I of Harley’s potato gun resting delicately on top of them. She had given and accepted warm hugs to everyone who had attended the funeral, stopped to converse with those she hadn’t seen since the battlefield.
Peter had been standing on one side of her until the laurels were placed in the water. She had felt his hand in hers start to shake; his breathing had become unsteady. With a shake of his head, he had turned away and walked inside, muttering something about needing to be alone. She had made a move to go after him, but Tony had clutched her hand with his metal one and directed his wheelchair into the house. She had turned back to the lake.
Seeing Clint had been difficult. Neither of them knew what to say. Y/N had embraced Laura and the kids, promising to visit them at the farmhouse as soon as possible. When she came face to face with Clint, words escaped her. She noticed his hands twitch at his sides, as if he wanted to hug her but couldn’t bring himself to. She could feel the guilt and sorrow radiating from him, thick and murky, difficult to breathe through, and she knows that’s not what Harley would have wanted. Gently, as gently as possible, she wrapped her arms around Clint and buried her face in his shoulder. Clint rubbed slow circles into her back, and she felt him shudder as he tucked her closer, as if he could protect her from the world that way.
They had only separated when Y/N caught sight of Harley’s mother and sister hovering on the periphery. Clint strayed away with his family, promising to see Y/N again later before they left.
Ariel looked almost exactly as she had the last time Y/N had seen her. Still barely pushing 4 feet, braces intact– still 13 years old. Y/N pulled her into a tight hug before pulling back quickly and scanning her up and down for any signs of injury or distress (other than the obvious). Finding nothing out of the ordinary, Y/N pulled her back in close. She had managed to keep from crying for the entire ceremony, and she could hold back her tears now.
Y/N felt Kate put a hand on her back. Katelyn Keener may not have been the most attentive or most present mother in the world, but she loved her kids with everything she had and more. Y/N could feel the hole in her heart, the massive void in her chest created by the loss of her son. As soon as Kate brought her in for a hug, Y/N couldn’t stop the tears from falling.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized, weeping as she embraced the older woman. “I’m sorry. I would do anything for it to be me. I promised you I would look after him, and– God, Kate– I would trade anything in the world for it to be Harley standing here right now. I should’ ve– I’m sorry.”
Again and again, Y/N apologized, a chorus of “sorry” s ringing through the grief-stale air. When she finally found her breath again, Kate tilted her chin up before she had a moment to be embarrassed.
“Sweetie, my son, God bless him, was as stubborn as they come. I don’t think there was anything you or anyone could’ve done to stop him– Lord knows Clint tried. Now, you knew my Harley better than almost anyone, so I know you know that.” Kate’s voice was soft and sweet, comforting. There was no blame or anger in her, but she was bursting at the seams with sadness. “Promise me, I’m not gonna hear any more of that nonsense about how it should’ve been you. Because I know my son wouldn’t hear a word of that.”
Y/N nodded. Maybe she could stop herself from saying it, but she didn’t think anything would stop her from feeling that way. Kate was right; Y/N knew Harley Keener better than almost anyone, so if anyone could’ve stopped him, it was her.
“Harley gave us all another chance. We have to take it, Sweetie,” Kate urged her. “We can’t just survive– we have to live.”
Tony and Pepper had intercepted Kate and Ariel moments later and ushered them inside; it looked like it was about to rain. Y/N remembered saying something about joining them later, needing a moment by herself.
She was soaked to the bone by the time she finally wandered back to the docks. Y/N took notice of the pedestal where Harley’s Iron Lad suit would be placed after some adjustments, forever immortalizing him.
We can’t just survive. We have to live.
Once upon a time, Y/N thought that she was the girl who lived life to the fullest, and there was reason enough to believe that. She had indulged nearly every whim in college, with Peter and Harley by her side. She smiled as much as she could, laughed to her heart’s content, and appreciated every moment as it came. She felt everything so deeply and fully– not just her own emotions, but everyone’s. She was connected to the world in a way that nobody else could be.
Was that living?
Y/N thought she was the girl who lived life to the fullest when she threw caution to the wind and kissed Steve. His touch filled her with a sense of home and happiness. They fought with a passion and urgency that stoked a fire in her, a burn that only the feeling of his body against hers could soothe. She felt bone-deep want when she was with him, and she ached for him when he was gone– she had assumed that was living.
Y/N allowed pain, grief, and misery to rip her to shreds. When a terrorist cell had kidnapped and weaponized her, forced her to kill, and scrambled her brain throughout her childhood, she embraced the painful emotions that came with it. When she realized her parents couldn’t stand the sight of her, she felt self-hatred and heartbreak sear through her. When her sister had turned out to be a child Hydra soldier who would rather die than turn sides, Y/N allowed misery and grief to wash over her. Feeling both the good and the bad– she had assumed that was living.
Now, everything was uncertain. None of that felt like enough– was that what Harley had died for? Harley didn’t sacrifice himself just so that she could laugh one more time. Harley hadn’t shot Clint with a repulsor blast so that she could kiss Steve again. He didn’t swan dive on to the rock face so that she could cry over spilled milk.
“Hey, kiddo. Pep’s been looking for you.” Tony’s voice was soft enough that it didn’t startle her– what did startle her was that she was so preoccupied with her thoughts that she didn’t even sense him coming.
“You probably shouldn’t be out in the rain,” Y/N ventured, turning to look at him properly for the first time in days. Since she had passed out in a recovery room in Wakanda, she had been unable to meet his eyes. Seven hours– she spent seven hours jumpstarting Tony’s neural connectivity, focusing, intensifying, and facilitating his healing process, and he was still tied to a wheelchair for the next few weeks. Pathetic. That wasn’t what Harley died for.
Tony’s eyes were stormy and dark, clouded with grief and frustration. “Wheel me in, then.”
“You go ahead. I’ll be there in a bit.”
“I can wait,” Tony retorted, but his defiant stance was broken by the shiver that racked through him.
Y/N frowned. “Tony, you have to take care of yourself. Harley would’ve wanted–”
He was quick to interrupt her. “We don’t know what Harley would’ve really wanted. I’m sorry, kid. I know he was your best friend, but even you can’t know everything he would think or say.” He urged her to understand. “I miss him, too, but I’ve lost a lot of people, good people; you know what I’ve learned? You can’t live by them or for them.”
Y/N was silent.
“If I’m remembering right, in being stubborn, you and Harley gave me a run for my money. I can’t think of a single day when you two didn’t fight about something– even if it was pizza toppings,” Tony reminisced. She couldn’t remember the exact argument he was talking about, but it had brought a smile to his lips, and more than anyone, Tony deserved to smile. He quirked an eyebrow up at her. “Hell, five times out of ten, you two were fighting about you and Capsicle. You ending things with the fossil because Harley wasn’t a fan?”
Y/N took the end of his spiel as her cue to begin wheeling him inside. She knew it was a joke because Tony didn’t know– she hadn’t been able to bring herself to tell him, and she knew he and Steve certainly hadn’t been trading secrets and braiding each other’s hair.
She couldn’t lie to herself. There was a part of her, however small, that was willing to abandon all dignity and beg on her hands and knees for Steve to stay. She knew he would if she did; he was too kind-hearted for his own good. That almost made the idea worse, and the fact that she had considered it made it difficult to meet her own eyes in the mirror in the mornings.
The rest of her, the redeemable parts of her, knew that Steve Rogers deserved better than a washed-up, ex-mass murderer with so much baggage that even Tony Stark couldn’t build a closet big enough to store it all. He deserved someone like Peggy Carter, founder of SHIELD and an admirable woman if Steve’s and Tony’s stories were anything to go by.
That Harley would never have approved was the cherry on top of a laundry list of reasons why she shouldn’t be with Steve.
She wheeled Tony into the cabin through the garage, rainwater seeping through their clothes, the chill finally enveloping her. Peter came to the door to help Tony into a seat while Y/N brought the wheelchair inside.
Sitting in the kitchen, dripping water on the floor as Pepper wrapped her in towels, Y/N felt like she might as well be shaking a magic eight ball: Should I say goodbye to Steve Rogers? All signs point to yes.