A Gift From: findthesea
Type Of Gift: Fic
Title: and as to me, i know nothing else but miracles
A Gift For: _samalander
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Summary/Prompt Used: Happy Secret Santa! I couldn’t decide what I wanted to write about, and ultimately ended up combining two of your prompts: AU: A world where your soulmate's name is written on your body the day you're born. Natasha has always felt incomplete, because the name she should have was removed by the Red Room. (She might be Clint's soulmate, but is he hers?) and Anything examining the dynamic of Laura/Clint/Natasha, including how it evolves with the advent of children. Who am I to turn down a soulmate fic for an OT3? The result is a little twisted and a little angsty (like our assassins) but ultimately full of feelings; I hope you enjoy!
Author's Note: Title from Walt Whitman’s “Leaves of Grass.” Although this is obviously AU, it’s rooted in the AoU canon in that there’s references to SHIELD and the events that happened in the movie.


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NOW
Laura steps outside of the farmhouse, breathing deep in the aftermath of the rain.

It’s approaching dawn, streaks of watercolor red and blue brushing across the sky’s canvas, and Laura closes her eyes as a thick breeze ruffles the hem of her oversized shirt. She relishes the silence; it’s rare that she’s had a moment to herself like this, before sunrise, before daylight, at least since Nathaniel was born. Even with Clint being back and helping out in the way that she was used to, it was Laura that ultimately ended up being tasked with things like nursing and soothing the baby -- something she didn’t necessarily mind, but also something that made it infinitely harder for her to take time for herself.

Laura puts her hands on the rail of the porch. It’s sometimes hard to remember that she had stood here only two weeks ago, watching with a pit in her stomach as her husband put his trust in the five people he had vowed to fight for and protect, wondering whether this would truly be the last time there would be a ritual like this. Laura liked the Avengers well enough, she knew enough about them to understand that their intentions and motivations were genuine, and that they did have her husband’s back. But she also knew there was only one of them that she actually trusted one hundred percent with her husband’s life -- the one that had had his back since the beginning. Laura glances down at fingers splayed against the porch’s chipped paint and she smiles to herself; Clint had repainted the wood only a few weeks ago but the new coat was already fading underneath layers and layers of repeated work. Another project, no doubt, and one Cooper would want to help with.

“Thought I’d find you out here,” Clint says as the floorboard creaks behind her, and Laura sighs to herself. She can’t decide how she feels about the mood being broken, though she’s not exactly upset at the reason why.

“Is he up already?”

“You sound surprised,” Clint says with a tired smile as Laura turns around. Nathaniel is fussing in Clint’s arms, his tiny mouth opening and closing at will, as if he’s trying to find words he doesn’t yet have. Laura leans against the porch.

“To be honest, we had two good nights in a row and I was starting to think maybe that was a pattern,” she admits. “Guess we can’t be so lucky.”

“Guess not,” Clint says with a sigh. “You wanna take him, or should I?”

Laura turns her attention to her son, smiling as he snuggles into his father’s arms, half-tempted not to ruin the moment.

“Keep him for awhile,” she decides, kissing him on the cheek. “I’ll start the tea.” She rubs a hand across tired eyes and starts to walk towards the door, pausing when Clint speaks again.

“Laura.”

Laura turns, following Clint’s gaze as it settles somewhere into the distance, and then her own eyes narrow, all thoughts of the promises of caffeine and warmth forgotten.

“Natasha?”

She holds her breath after she says the words and waits, just to be sure, even though she knows as well as Clint does that there can’t be anyone else walking towards the house at this hour.

“It’s five in the morning,” Clint mutters and Laura curls her hand around his arm.

“That’s never stopped her before.”

They fall into silence as Clint’s breathing becomes shallower, watching the figure grow closer until Laura can see Natasha more clearly. Her hair is gathered in a low ponytail, which brushes the tip of her shoulders, where a too-big sweatshirt hangs off her arm, and she’s moving slower than usual. Laura can’t tell if that’s because of the time of day, or whether it’s because she’s trying to hide an injury that she knows will cause her to be fussed over.

“Waiting for someone?” Natasha asks mildly when she gets close enough, and her eyes look exhausted. Clint shifts Nathaniel in his arms, and Laura feels her stomach uncurl at the familiar words awaiting a familiar answer.

“Just you.”

--

Eventually, Laura does make tea, grabbing an extra cup from the drying rack and steeping the bag slowly as she hands Natasha her mug. Clint has gone upstairs to try to put the baby back down, Laura having taken the time to nurse him while Natasha had gotten comfortable and changed.

“I thought you’d call,” Laura says quietly as Natasha wraps her fingers around the cup, sitting down at the table. Natasha looks down and then sighs.

“Sorry,” she apologizes, just as quietly. “It was a long drive. I figured I’d concentrate on getting here.”

“You drove?” Laura asks quizzically, furrowing her brow. “From New York?”

Natasha nods. “Seemed easiest. I didn’t really feel like flying.”

Laura stays silent, watching Natasha grip her mug harder, as if she’s trying to hold herself together. What happened to you? She wants to ask, because the Natasha she knows isn’t this person at all. The Natasha she knows can at least pretend to be stable and push her emotions away, like she did when Clint brought her to the farm a few weeks ago, and even that wasn’t entirely her. But it was better than this.

“I missed it,” Natasha says after a beat, and it takes Laura a moment to realize what she’s talking about.

“You didn’t,” she tries to assure the other girl, glancing upstairs to where she knows her son is sleeping. “Not all of it.” Natasha tries to smile, though it looks like she’s forcing her lips into the position.

“I did, though.” She pauses, breathing out slowly. “Anyway, thanks for sending the videos.”

Laura nods. “Of course,” she says, reaching her hand out. “Natasha...of course. This is Nathaniel we’re talking about.” Nathaniel, who was supposed to be you. Nathaniel, who was supposed to be yours...don’t you see how much we care about you? She adds the words silently, her eyes saying what her mouth can’t. Natasha takes a long sip of tea, and Laura swears she sees her hands shake.

“Do you want to see him?”

Natasha shakes her head slowly. “Later,” she says. “I do, but...I need a little bit, if that’s okay.”

Laura’s heart aches as she watches the expression of the other girl, the way she carefully folds herself under layers and layers of thick plaster to harden her resolve.

“Yes,” she says after a moment, sipping her own tea. She smiles sadly at Natasha. “That’s okay.”


THEN
Clint introduces Natasha into Laura’s life the same way Natasha had been introduced into his: without much warning, and unexpectedly.

“This is Natasha,” he says when he shows up on the front porch almost immediately after coming back from Russia, gesturing to the rail-thin girl bathed in tattered clothes, a tangled display of red hair trailing down her back. Laura had taken in a face lined with visible pain more fresh than she could imagine, pale skin and gaunt features, and she had sighed quietly to herself because this was Clint, and she knew that this was Clint.

“Come inside,” she says, walking Natasha through the door and offering her a shower as well as fresh clothes. “I’ll make you something to eat.” While Natasha occupies herself in the bathroom, Laura stands outside with Clint, whispering fiercely over the rush of the water.

“How the hell did you find her again?”

Clint looks chagrined and embarrassed all at once. “I told you, I met her in Russia. I saved her life.”

Over the course of the next few months, Laura would hear more in bits and pieces about the details surrounding the story of “I saved her life.” There would be the things that Clint slipped into conversation, the dangerous stories that made Laura flinch, the ones that got even more dangerous each time they were told, not to mention the stories about the amount of convincing it had taken to get Natasha out of the country in the first place.

And eventually, once Natasha got comfortable enough to sit with Laura alone, there would be the small morsels of information that would creep out quietly and without much fanfare, and Laura would sit and listen and offer tea while she held Natasha’s hand and listened to stories of little girls who were thrown to the wolves and left to their own devices.

It stayed like that, for awhile, until it got better.

--

Natasha distinctly remembers the first time she learned that everyone in the world had a soulmate, a name written on their body that pointed them in the direction of the person they were supposed to be aligned with for life.

“Soulmarks?” Natasha’s sitting on the bed across from Clint in his small room, inclining her head, watching her partner clean his arrowheads. It’s become a ritual of sorts, a way for them to spend time together without feeling too awkward but also, it’s something Natasha is starting to realize she likes: being able to observe Clint working with his hands, the meticulous way he brushes his fingers over the objects that he knows how to handle so well, and the ease in which he can both work and hold a conversation at the same time.

“Soulmates,” Clint corrects, glancing up. “Everyone’s got one. The day you’re born, you have a name written somewhere on your body. Sometimes it doesn’t show up for awhile -- it’s different for everyone -- but it’s there.”

“Everyone?” Natasha asks, trying to remember if she’s ever seen any marks on her body that haven’t been put there by other people, or by herself. Clint nods without meeting her eyes.

“Course,” he says. “But like I said, it’s different for everyone. I’m still waiting for mine.”

Natasha instantly feels confused. “But you have a wife,” she says, thinking of Laura and the farm, the phone calls Clint makes daily that begin in low whispers at the end of the hallway and end in him saying, “I love you.” Clint sighs a little.

“Yeah. I know. I kind of got tired of waiting for mine to appear, I guess.” He shrugs as he goes back to his work. “Really, though...I met Laura right before I joined SHIELD and it just felt right. More right than anyone else I’ve ever connected with. We started dating, fell in love, and then she got hers a few years ago, after we got married. Turns out, it was my name on the back of her shoulder blade. Meant to be.”

“Meant to be,” Natasha echoes. “But you don’t know if she’s your soulmate, then.” She says the words slowly, as if she’s trying to put the pieces together. Clint shakes his head, but doesn’t look concerned.

“I love Laura. And I’ve never questioned the fact that we were meant to be together...not even when we’ve had fights. Even if for some reason it turns out that she’s not my soulmate after all, it wouldn’t change anything. And anyway, I don’t have a problem going against the system.”

“You never do,” Natasha teases gently and Clint flashes her a grin.

“Well, someone’s learning.”

Later that night, Natasha goes to the bathroom when Clint is asleep, slipping out of the small bed and turning on all the lights until she feels like she’s in an operating room, being experimented on all over again. She sheds her clothes and carefully examines her body, poking at the bruised parts of her skin and pulling at old scabs, trying to catalogue where and when her injuries have occurred. Everything is mostly familiar, though, and there’s nothing Natasha can classify as being any kind of mark that could be a name, or even a grouping of letters.

She tries to forget about her disappointment and loses herself in trying to acclimate to SHIELD, to Clint and his stupid jokes and sometimes, to his life at the farm. It doesn’t stop her from checking her body every so often, injured or not, hoping that one day, a name will show up. She sometimes debates getting hurt just for the hell of it, to see if she can cheat the system.

As time goes on, she realizes what name she wants to see show up, and tries to put it out of her mind.


NOW
“I’m making grilled cheese for lunch,” Laura says when she steps into the living room, finding Natasha reading with Lila on the couch. Both girls look up, and Lila’s face stretches into a wide grin that Laura swears is infinitely more genuine when she’s around Natasha.

“I wanna help!”

“You can certainly help,” Laura says, matching her smile. “It’ll give Natasha a chance to rest a little.”

“Do you want me to help make Natasha’s food?” Lila asks a little expectantly, and Natasha hides her own grin.

“I think that would be a very good idea,” Laura says, holding out her hand as Lila gets up and walks over to the kitchen. “Besides, I know how Natasha feels about cooking.”

“Your mother seems to think that grilled cheese is something that requires her master’s degree to make,” Natasha calls with a wink, and Laura can’t help the feeling of warmth that spreads through her.

“I seem to remember that I have years of experience when it comes to you and the kitchen. Not all of those experiences have been great,” Laura reminds Natasha, eyeing the other woman as she fluffs the pillows back up. “Besides, I thought you’d be glad to get out of reading another princess book.”

Natasha laughs quietly. “Princess books aren’t all that bad,” she says, looking down at the mess on the couch. “They’re fun, at least. Cooper’s into all these teen mysteries right now, and those aren’t exactly my cup of tea.”

“Good thing you have his cartoons to keep you company,” Laura says, not moving from her spot. “You’re staying for awhile, right?”

Natasha looks at Laura and nods slowly, and when she moves her head, Laura can see the faint black mark against her skin. She feels herself relax almost instantly, the fear that had been taking up residence inside her evening out when she realizes how much she had been worried Natasha would try to remove it. She opens her mouth to say something before she realizes it’s not the right time, and searches for other words, instead.

“I’ll have Clint make up your bed, then.” She pauses to let Natasha answer, wondering if the other girl will say or offer up anything else.

“Natasha.”

Natasha looks up from where she’s been gathering books and blankets, and Laura finds herself fighting back sudden tears at the sight.

“It’s good to have you back.”

Natasha looks around the house until she finally lets her gaze settle back on Laura, and Laura thinks she looks a little sad.

“I wanted to come home.”


THEN
The day that Natasha finds the mark -- or rather, the place the mark should be -- is two hours after her and Clint return from a mission. Natasha has taken a significant beating, thanks to getting caught off guard at the wrong time, and after heading off Medical, she’s elected to nurse the wounds Clint hasn’t yet taken care of in private. While he disappears to find more painkillers, she stands in the small bathroom, trying to work motion back into the shoulder that had been previously dislocated, and that’s when she sees it in the mirror -- a small dark line stretching out from behind her right ear. Natasha leans forward, pushing against the painful screaming of her muscles, forgetting all about her injuries as she stares at the mark she hadn’t noticed before, trying to wrack her brain for memories of being hurt in that area. When she can’t, her heart skips a few beats, and she starts to inspect the braised skin more closely.

The rapid beating of her heart quickly dissolves when she realizes that the mark is nothing but a blank scar, smeared and barely visible. She draws back, trying to ignore the crushed feeling in her chest, the feeling she realizes she probably should have known and prepared herself for ahead of time.

It takes her awhile to come to terms with it, and even longer to say it out loud.

“They cut it out,” Natasha says one day as they’re driving to the farm, and Clint looks over at her with a furrowed brow.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean...that thing you were saying? About soulmates?”

Clint nods, rubbing a hand across his face. “Yeah. Everyone has one.”

“Yes.” Natasha feels herself growing impatient at the obvious part of the conversation he seems to be missing. “I don’t think I do, though. I think mine was cut out.”

She watches Clint’s breathing change, the way his chest starts to rise and fall more quickly at her words, before he snaps his head to the side.
“Are you sure?”

Natasha nods. “Pretty sure, yeah.”

“But I mean…” Clint trails off. “There’s a possibility of it being late, right? What if it just hasn’t appeared yet? Like mine.”

Natasha blows out a frustrated breath. “I don’t think that’s the case,” she says, trying to keep the conversation from erupting into an argument. “I know every single mark that’s been made on my body. Whether someone else put it there, or whether I did...I know where everything comes from. Except one. Except for this one.”

Clint glances over as Natasha cranes her neck, pulling back her hair.

“I can’t see it.”

“Exactly,” Natasha says a little morosely, dropping her hair. “You can’t see it, because it’s not there. Whenever it appeared, however young I was while I was in the Red Room, someone must have realized I had it and cut it out. Or cut out as much of it as they could.” Another way to make my life theirs, and not mine, she thinks, her eyes burning at the thought.

Clint falls into silence as Natasha turns her head to stare out the window, and then he stretches his hand across the seat, grabbing her fingers in his own.

She looks at him in surprise when he does so, but squeezes back, and doesn’t let go.

--

Natasha’s in the middle of doing stretches in preparation for sparring when Clint bursts through the door of the practice room, practically skipping into her space.

“Laura’s pregnant,” he says almost immediately, his face flushed, a smile spilling over his lips. Natasha tries to match it despite what her brain is telling her, because in the few years of getting to know Clint and coming to the farm, she’s grown fond of Laura in a way that’s made her feel comfortable, like she’s found a sister and a friend all at once.

“Now I see what you do in your downtime,” she teases in response, and Clint shoots her a look.

“For your information, this one was planned,” he says, crossing his arms. “Anyway, I can’t wait to buy baby clothes.”

“I just got used to Clint Barton, SHIELD agent, and now I’m going to have to deal with Clint Barton, overenthusiastic father?” Natasha smirks. “Spare me, please.”

“Unlikely,” says Clint as he sprints forward, attempting to tackle her before Natasha neatly rolls out of the way, jumping up to grab his arm from behind.

“Unlikely would be beating me in a session,” she remarks when Clint squirms in discomfort, caught off guard by her retaliation.

“You don’t have to be mean about it.”

“Clint.” Natasha rolls her eyes. “Mean would be actually hurting you. I’m holding back.” She smiles again as she lets go, and before he can turn around fully, she throws a right hook. “Besides, how are you going to teach your spawn to fight if you can’t even match your partner’s skills on an off day?”

Clint falters, which allows Natasha to get another jab in, this time to his right shoulder.

“Hey.” She stops and puts her hands on her hips, frowning. “You okay, bird brain?”

“Fine,” Clint says after a moment, rubbing his skin where she’s hit him. “It’s just...I think that’s the first time you’ve called me your partner.”

Natasha looks surprised as he says the words, and then smiles a little. “Don’t take it personally, Barton. I still don’t like your jokes very much.”

--

It becomes almost like a ritual, Clint bringing Natasha to the farm whenever he goes home, which is more and more often now that Laura’s going on five months pregnant. And Natasha, who grew up running away from life, untrustworthy of anyone who had ever showed her affection, would never have expected that she’d find her second home at a farm with her partner and his wife, of all places. Clint jokes that it’s the home cooking and the quilted bedspreads, but Natasha shares looks with Laura that she knows makes her gratitude known beyond thanks for a quiet house and homemade quiche.

“What do you think about soulmates?” She’s sitting on the couch across from Laura in the living room one night, curled up with a pillow that’s providing rest for her recently sprained arm while Laura sips reheated caffeinated tea, in lieu of the coffee she’s been told she can’t have regularly.

“What do you mean?”

Natasha sighs, moving her arm tentatively, wincing when it sends stinging pain through her joints. “I mean, do you believe in them?”

Laura looks up over her book and meets her eyes. “I kind of have to, don’t I?” Her tone is teasing, but her voice is gentle.

“Yeah.” Natasha thinks of what Clint has told her about soulmates, about his name being written on Laura’s skin, about how in the end, things had just felt right. “I guess.” She falls quiet and Laura frowns slightly, nodding towards her.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s dumb,” Natasha says instantly, because she feels like it would be even more dumb if she had to say her thoughts out loud. Laura puts her cup down on the floor and moves a little closer.

“It isn’t dumb,” she insists quietly, running a hand through Natasha’s hair. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Natasha looks at Laura, trying to smile through her uncertainty, and lets out a long breath. “I guess I’ve just been thinking a lot,” she says slowly. “Especially lately. Everyone is supposed to have a soulmate. Everyone is supposed to belong to someone.”

Laura looks thoughtful, her face changing as Natasha talks and then she folds her hand over Natasha’s own.

“You know, a soulmate doesn’t necessarily have to be someone that you’re meant to be with because your name is written on their skin,” she says. “I know that’s what the laws of the world say, but it’s not entirely true. Clint’s proof of that.”

“I know he is,” Natasha says, looking at the patterned floral rug and then at the hardwood floor and the plush furniture, framed photos of wedding invitations and letters, stories of Clint and Laura lining the walls and smiling faces that change only in superficial features but not in sentiments. “I just don’t know where I belong.”

Laura smiles sadly. “I think you do know where you belong,” she hints. Natasha manages a smile back, although she feels like she doesn’t have the heart to tell Clint’s wife that while she feels comfortable at the farm, there’s a part of her that will always consider herself a bit of an outsider.

“Soulmates don’t have to be someone that you love,” Laura continues. “They can be someone that you’re comfortable with. They can be anyone that feels right.”

“Clint feels right,” Natasha says quickly, and then she pulls away, suddenly worried about her response. “I’m sorry. I don’t --”

“No. No, Natasha.” Laura’s smiling, still. “It’s okay. You can feel comfortable with Clint. You can even love him, Nat.” A softness, an openness settles in her eyes. “I promise, it’s okay.”

Natasha looks at her, thinking about the other words on her tongue, the ones she doesn’t know how to say out loud.

I feel comfortable with you, too.

--

Six months after Cooper Barton is born, Clint corners Laura in the bathroom, after their son has been put to sleep.

“I need to talk to you about Natasha.”

Laura twists her head around in confusion. “Okay,” she says, leaning over to spit out a mouthful of toothpaste. “What is it?”

“It’s…” Clint composes himself, leaning against the door. “She’s my soulmate.”

Laura scoffs quietly as she reaches for a towel, dragging it across her mouth. “She’s your soulmate.”

“She is,” Clint insists, dragging up his pants and sticking his leg out. Laura squints at the words on his skin, looking up in surprise.

“When did you get a tattoo?”

“I didn’t,” Clint insists. “I woke up one day when we were in Croatia, because my leg felt weird. And then next thing I knew, that was there. Like, it just appeared. You know how everyone’s got a mark?”

“Yes,” Laura says placidly. “You’re mine, remember?”

“Yeah, well. Apparently you might not be mine.”

Laura stares at him, her gaze unwavering, and then bends down so that she can look at the mark a little more closely. “It’s not even written in this language.”

“It’s Russian,” Clint says, taking a piece of paper from the back pocket of his jeans and shoving it at her as she stands up again. “I had a linguist at SHIELD decode it because even I wasn’t sure. Trust me. It says Natasha.”

Laura raises an eyebrow as she stares at the piece of paper. “I don’t…” She stops. “I don’t understand. Does she have one, too?”

Clint shakes his head. “I don’t know,” he admits. “If she did, I think it was removed when she was young. But...I mean, that’s how these things work, right? Whoever has one automatically belongs to the other person?”

Laura hesitates. “You know that doesn’t make sense,” she says finally. “I have your name, and you have Natasha’s. Not mine.”

Clint bites down on his lip, looking a little guilty. “Laura, I really...I swear, I had no idea. I love you. I’m not --”

He’s cut off by Laura reaching out, dragging his face close to hers as she kisses him gently.

“You are my soulmate,” she says, and Clint runs his fingers around her back, over the space where he knows his name is written. “Nothing will ever change that.”

“Not even this?” He asks quietly. Laura shakes her head.

“Not even this.” She scritches the back of his neck. “Honestly, there are worse things in the world than having your partner and best friend as a soulmate, you know.”

Clint swallows hard. “I know,” he says raggedly. “And I know I have to tell her but I...I have no idea how.”

Laura sighs. “Wait a little bit,” she says. “You just got back, and you’re both tired. Let her settle in again, and maybe we can all find a time to talk about it together.”

Clint nods, reaching for a towel to wash his face before kissing her gently.


NOW
The day has turned slightly chillier by the time Laura finishes lunch, serving grilled cheese and tomato soup to Clint and Natasha, Cooper and Lila having finished their meals quickly enough to spend the rest of the afternoon outside. Nathaniel has slept a grand total of two hours before waking up with screams, and Laura is putting away dishes while holding the baby in her sling.

“Let me help,” Natasha says once the kids have vacated the table, getting up and joining Laura at the sink. “You seem to have forgotten that you just pushed a baby out of your body.”

Laura makes a face. “You’d be surprised at how much energy you have when you’re getting up at five in the morning every day,” she says but doesn’t refute Natasha’s help, allowing the other girl to take the dishrag from her hand. Clint watches from the table in silence, before leaning back in his chair.

“Nat’s doing some good work with the recruits,” he offers, keeping his voice level so he doesn’t disturb Nathaniel. “In New York. You’d be proud.”

Natasha shakes her head as Laura moves out of the way. “They’re doing okay. Sometimes I wish I was back here, though.” She lets her voice drop off, scrubbing a little harder at the countertop and Laura swallows down the lump in her throat.

“You’ve probably been running yourself ragged lately, too.”

Natasha laughs quietly. “Compared to your kids, it’s nothing. Wanda may be a little hard to handle sometimes, but she’s got nowhere near the energy that Lila does. And Sam can talk for hours, but Cooper’s got his personality beat by a mile.” She finishes cleaning and then puts the cheese and milk back in the fridge, and Laura notices that she also pauses a little to stare at the decorations plastered to the door. There have been new additions, she knows, even in the few weeks since they had been back during Ultron’s attacks, drawings from Cooper that now included one additional stick figure and new school papers from Lila, not to mention copious baby pictures of Nathaniel. Laura watches as Natasha brushes her fingers gently over the photo taken just days after his birth.

“Why don’t you come upstairs?” Laura asks gently when Natasha seems to stand a little too long, lost in thought. She gestures to her body. “I want to change him, and Clint can play with the kids. But I think you and I should spend some time alone.”

Natasha turns around and nods slowly, and Laura thinks she might be trying not to cry.


THEN
It starts by accident, with Natasha uncharacteristically blurting out the words during one of their conversations while they’re walking Cooper in a stroller. It’s cold, and even colder with the addition of the blustery, midwestern winds, and small snowflakes are starting to flutter from the sky, darkening parts of their hair and coats.

“What would you say if I told you I think about Laura?”

“Uh.” Clint turns sideways, pushing Cooper along the dirt path. “I’d say I’m glad you like my wife?” When Natasha doesn’t answer, he slows to a stop.

“Wait, no. What do you mean by ‘think about Laura’?”

Natasha sighs, a long, drawn out sound. “Like...like the way I think about you,” she says quietly, even though she’s not sure whether or not she should say those words out loud, either. Soulmark aside, she’d long accepted the fact she’d become attracted to Clint in a way that transcended him just being a comfort and a best friend, though other than casual cuddling and playful banter, they’d never done anything to push those boundaries. But while Natasha may have spent a lifetime breaking up relationships in every way, she knows that this is different, and that she loves Clint and Laura too much to try to get in the middle of that relationship. Besides, Laura had been so open with Natasha, she had already felt like she didn’t particularly need validation on that end.

Clint raises his eyebrow, glancing down at Cooper before looking back up.

“Seriously?”

“What?” She finds herself suddenly defensive, even though Clint’s cracking a smile.

“Nothing,” he says, laughing a little, and Natasha thinks if she didn’t know him so well by now, she’d be hurt by the reaction. “Just...I guess I never imagined my partner would be into my wife like that.”

“Yeah, well.” Natasha rubs her arms briskly, frozen fingers moving over coarse fabric of the coat she’s borrowed from Laura. “I never thought my partner and his wife would be anything worth writing home about, especially in that way.” She starts to move again and then Clint’s wheeling Cooper a little too quickly until he catches up to her and is able to grab onto her shoulder.

“Hey.” He manages to turn her around and blinks a few times in surprise, and Natasha knows she can’t hide the fear and vulnerability that’s written all over her face. Clint smiles gently, the crooked, stupid grin that only shows half his teeth, the one that made her like him in the first place. “It’s okay, you know. To feel like this.” He reaches up and brushes a small snowflake off her nose before it has time to melt into her skin. “You know that she feels the same way, right?”

Natasha laughs, trying to fend off the nervous flutter in her stomach, because maybe she’d been a little hopeful that Laura’s looks and glances have meant something more, though she never would have expected the confirmation.

“And, what? We’re going to start up some polyamorous relationship?”

“No,” Clint says, shaking his head. “I mean, not unless you want to.” He smiles again. “But I promise you, even if this never goes anywhere, you don’t deserve to be loved any less. We can be open with our feelings for each other. Hell, you’re my soulmate. Your name is written on my skin. I mean, meant to be, right?”

Natasha can’t seem to find words to answer and as if on cue, Cooper starts to cry, his pacifier dropping out of his mouth and onto the ground.

“Oof.” Clint bends over to pick it up with a wince, raising his voice over the continued cry as the baby slowly comes to the realization that he’s not getting his distraction back. “That’s not going to go over well.”

“Here,” Natasha says almost instantly, reaching over to unbuckle Cooper from his stroller. She hoists him onto her shoulder and starts to sing softly as he continues to cry, loud, upsetting wails that cut into Natasha’s heart more than she wants to admit.

“And you say you’re not good with kids,” Clint scoffs, folding his arms. Natasha rolls her eyes as Cooper sags into her shoulder.

“You talk too much,” she says tightly, starting to walk again, leaving him behind before he can read the expression on her face.

--

“She’ll be okay,” is a standard remark that Laura has heard numerous times since Clint had brought Natasha into their lives, and every time, Laura remains a little more skeptical that Clint’s using the words as a way to brush off his anxiety. So when he unexpectedly brings home an injured and barely conscious Natasha, Laura has a hard time believing Clint’s reassurance of, “she’ll be okay.”

“You sure about that?” Laura stares across the room, where Natasha is curled up on the couch, looking small and vulnerable underneath a pile of blankets. She had woken up enough to be given a few painkillers, and the soft sounds of agony from a girl who Laura knows has been through hell had almost made her cry. “A broken wrist, a concussion, multiple stitches, two bruised ribs...how can she be okay?”

“She’s Natasha. She pulls through,” Clint insists, though Laura notices that even he looks a little concerned. “Besides, it’s better that she’s here instead of a hospital. We can take care of her this way, and she’s not going to freak out.”

“I guess,” Laura says slowly, walking forward and sitting down next her. “You never make it easy for people to love you, do you?” She’s thinking of Clint when she says the words but suddenly realizes the way they’ve come out, and when she looks up, Clint’s staring at her curiously.

“Part of the job,” is all he says as he walks over, putting his hand on her head. Laura can’t decide whether she wants to pursue the thought that’s slipped out or ignore it completely, but before she can make a decision, Clint’s hand is suddenly gripping her more tightly.

“Look,” he whispers and Laura glances up, confused, following Clint’s eyes. Just underneath the curve of Natasha’s ear, where her sweaty and matted hair has been brushed back in restless sleep, there’s a small collection of letters jumbled together, a dark mark against pale skin. Laura squints closer.

“Look,” Clint says again, gesturing, and Laura moves her gaze over the writing, before she bites down on a gasp, her heart beating out of her chest.

“Natasha,” she whispers, wondering if her eyes are playing tricks on her, and when she looks up at Clint, she knows he’s seeing it, too.

Laura.

Clint backs away and rubs a hand over his chin. “Jesus. What are the odds?”

Laura wants to answer, wants to say something about how it’s laughable and right all at the same time, but she finds she has no words. “We need to talk about it,” she manages, keeping her voice quiet. “Before we tell her.”

“Why?” Clint still looks like he’s a little lost, and Laura gets up on shaky legs. “I mean, you think she’s going to be upset?”

“Clint.” Laura sighs. “She thinks you’re her soulmate. She told me so. You have to know that.”

Clint looks a little resigned. “Yeah,” he says with a nod. “I know. So I have her, you have me, and she has you...Jesus.” He bows his head, letting out a quiet laugh. “Talk about cheating the goddamn system.”

“Is it?” Laura asks quietly, finding his eyes. “When I met you, you married me and stayed with me because you said it felt right. A name, however fateful, wasn’t going to change that.”

“And that’s you and Natasha?” Clint asks, unable to keep the skepticism out of his voice. Laura swallows.

“It’s also you and Natasha,” she points out, and Clint heaves a long sigh.

“She loves you. She told me that.”

“And you know how I feel about her,” Laura returns. “But as messy as it is, I think we need to talk about how this is going to affect her.” She looks at Natasha, still curled under the covers. “And I’m pregnant again.”

Clint’s head snaps up in surprise. “You are?” His voice is a little too loud and Laura smacks him, between Cooper and Natasha they didn’t need to wake the house with their conversation. “Sorry,” he whispers, moving away and into the kitchen, where they can be afforded some privacy and talk a little louder. “I just...really?”

Laura nods a little shyly. “Test came back positive this morning,” she says with a small smile. “I had wanted to wait, especially after Natasha’s injury, but…”

“Hey, you know that unconventional delivery of big news is my favorite,” Clint says, bringing her close and kissing her on the side of the head. Laura leans into him.

“This will change her,” she says quietly, and she suddenly doesn’t know if she’s talking about their new child or the soulmark. Clint breathes a little heavier, but continues stroking her head.

“Maybe not,” he says quietly, and Laura swallows down her fear as she presses in closer, unable to tune out Natasha’s whimpers as she falls into a fitful sleep, her thoughts dancing on the edge of something hopeful.

Maybe not.


NOW
The house isn’t exactly quiet; Natasha can hear the raucous sounds of Cooper and Lila laughing and playing over Clint’s raised voice from the open window, but once Laura closes the door to her bedroom, there’s a spell of silence that blankets the space, closing out any external noise.

“Hand me those diapers?” Laura asks mildly, nodding towards a pile near the closet. Natasha picks one up and brings it over.

“Do you want me to do the honors?”

Laura looks up with a curious gaze, a look that Natasha immediately picks up on. Laura wasn’t going to ask, she wasn’t going to make Natasha do this out of any kind of an ulterior motive. But she certainly wasn’t going to say no.

“It’s been awhile since you’ve done this,” Laura says, moving away as Natasha takes her place at the changing table, one hand firm on Nathaniel’s small body. The baby squirms back and forth but remains otherwise passive, and Natasha can’t help but smile.

“I think I remember how to change your kids’ diapers,” she says lightly, glancing down. “I remember a lot of things.”

“Christmas at the farm, the first time,” Laura offers, sitting down on the bed. “Cooper getting those lights tangled in his hair, which Clint thought was more hysterical than dangerous. I learned a lot about my husband’s sense of humor that day.”

“Lila’s first birthday, and smashing the cake in her face,” Natasha adds, fastening a new diaper on the baby. “Putting on that horrible country music and watching her dance around with no coordination.”

“Clint dressing her in those mini football jerseys,” Laura says, looking down at the floor. “Cooper saying his first word when we were in the middle of a blackout and we had no way to capture it.”

“Mom.” They both say the word together, and Natasha looks up to find Laura smiling at her. Something in her chest seizes, and her hand unconsciously goes to her ear, where she runs her finger over the mark that she knows is there before dragging it down through red, tangled curls.

“I kept it long for awhile because it was easier to hide,” Natasha admits, picking up a now clean Nathaniel and holding him in both arms. “Because then I didn’t have to think about how I always felt like I would never fit in.” She sees the hurt passing through Laura’s eyes and forces herself to look past it. “But I also did it because I didn’t want people to question me, if they could figure out that it didn’t say the name they expected.” She takes a breath. “I was scared. It’s why I went after Banner -- to try to prove myself, I guess, to see if I could have a connection with someone that wasn’t dictated to me. It’s why I missed his birth.” She feels like it’s harder to talk all of a sudden, harder to breathe, and as if sensing her discomfort, Nathaniel starts to pull at her shirt, tiny fists closing around thin fabric.

“I never blamed you,” Laura says quietly, and Natasha notices her eyes are shining. “He didn’t, either. It never...you weren’t there, but that never changed our love for you. You’re still our soulmate. It says so on your skin.”

“I still don’t think I was meant to be a part of this family,” Natasha says, her voice breaking. Laura gets up, placing two hands on either side of her face.

“Yes,” she says gently, kissing her on the lips, even as Nathaniel continues to make whimpering sounds between them. “You do.” She puts her hand against the mark on Natasha’s skin, and feels the other girl come apart in her arms.


THEN
It’s a mutual agreement between Clint and Laura to hold off on telling Natasha about her mark at least until she notices it herself, which takes longer than expected. Whether it’s because of her injury or because she’s preoccupied with being at the farm and not looking over her shoulder every so often, Clint’s not sure, but he does start to think it’s strange, because he knows how much she’s been obsessed with checking for marks, even if she’d never admit it.

Laura’s adamant about telling her sooner rather than later, though, and Clint wants to share the baby news, and so they wait roughly three weeks after Natasha has healed enough to take care of herself without requiring much worry or observation.

“What’s this?” Natasha asks suspiciously when both of them approach her on the porch, coming to a stop in front of the chair she’s sitting in. Laura glances up at Clint, who nods slowly and sits down next to her.

“We, uh. We wanted to talk to you.” He wishes he could tell her the news he wants to say, that Laura’s pregnant, but he knows he has to take care of this particular demon first. Natasha gives him a look.

“I’ve got the two SHIELD parents standing over me like I’ve done something wrong, so whatever you’re going to tell me, it better be that I killed someone in my sleep,” Natasha says after a moment. Clint snorts but Laura doesn’t quite react.

“When you were recovering here, we found something,” Clint says, and Natasha immediately seems to sense what he’s going to say.

“You -- where?” She asks breathlessly, almost giddily.

“Here,” he says, reaching up and tracing a hand down the back of her ear. Natasha follows his lead, her fingers meeting his own, and he shivers as their skin touches.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She asks, though she doesn’t seem annoyed as much as impatient. Laura leans forward.

“We wanted to, but you were still recovering. Nat...it says my name.”

Natasha startles, moving her gaze from Clint to Laura. “Your name,” she repeats, before looking back at Clint. “But --”

“I know,” Clint breaks in. “You thought you were mine. Trust me, Nat, I expected that.”

Natasha looks at him, not responding, and Laura reaches out.

“Nat,” she says quietly. “This doesn’t change the way I feel about you. Or him.” She takes Clint’s other hand. “This is about family.”

Natasha looks a little uncomfortable. “Family,” she says slowly. “Do I even belong here?”

Laura frowns. “Don’t say that,” she says. “You know you belong here.” When Natasha fails to respond again, Laura calms herself and then tries to smile. “I’m pregnant.”

“What?” Natasha’s face changes from confusion to happiness, a smile emerging over her lips. “You are? Another one?”

Laura nods. “It wasn’t supposed to happen this way...with us finding your mark before we had a chance to tell you. But maybe it’s meant to be. Maybe this means we’re supposed to all be together...like this.”

“Like this,” Natasha says sadly. “All of us, trying to belong with each other, when the system can’t seem make up its mind.”

“Fuck the system,” Clint cuts in bluntly. “We love you, Nat. Can’t that be enough?”

Laura watches Natasha consider the words as she leans back in the chair, one hand ghosting over the letters on her skin.

--

Lila Barton changes something in Natasha, for better and for worse.

She becomes almost a second mother, especially in the wake of Laura trying to figure out how to care for two young children, and there are days that Laura often finds her walking around with a sleeping baby on her shoulder, or passed out on the table after staying up all night when both Laura and Clint needed to sleep themselves. And then there are other days, when Laura realizes she hasn’t seen Natasha for a long time, when she walks through the house and finds her sitting in one of the guest bedrooms with her fingers curled around a mug of tea, as if she’s avoiding the world.

“Do you want to talk?” Laura asks as she closes the door, smiling when she sees the cup Natasha’s chosen: a hideously decorated mug with a mess of colors, made by Cooper during a birthday party.

“I don’t know,” Natasha admits, not moving her gaze from the window. “About what?”

Laura takes a seat next to her, watching Clint and Cooper work on the deck outside. “You’re pretty good with Lila,” she says gently and Natasha smiles slowly, almost on instinct.

“I guess.”

“But you’ve been avoiding me,” Laura follows up almost instantly and Natasha goes quiet.

“I’ve been thinking a lot,” she says slowly. “About us. About this.” She gestures to the house and Laura furrows her brow.

“Us?”

Natasha looks suddenly uncomfortable. “Look, I know you love me,” she says finally. “I know you do. But you loved Clint first.”

Laura’s heart leaps into her throat. “That means nothing,” she says, taking Natasha’s hand. “You know that. I love you just as much, but in a different way.”

“And that’s the thing, isn’t it?” Natasha looks sad. “It’ll always be different. Even if Lila comes to see me as something more than a baby sitter, I’ll never be her mother. Not like you are.”

“That’s what this is about?” Laura asks in surprise, feeling a million answers on her tongue that could shoot down Natasha’s thoughts. Natasha shakes her head.

“Not just that,” she says, rubbing the mark behind her ear. “For the longest time, I thought Clint was supposed to be the one for me, and I could work with that. I already knew how I felt about him. I was prepared for it. But when it was you...”

There are tears prickling at the corner of Laura’s eyes that she can’t seem to hold back. “When it was me, what?”

Natasha lets out a long breath. “When it was you, I realized I didn’t know where I was supposed to fit in.”

Laura feels her insides grow numb, her brain spinning wildly as it tries to find words to answer. “I don’t know how to help you,” she says, frustrated that she can’t seem to find a way to work through this, like she’s used to working through problems with her children. Natasha’s face twists into resigned look.

“It’s okay. I don’t expect you to know.” She takes a deep breath. “Which is why I’ve been thinking about leaving.”

“What?” Laura’s breath catches in her chest. “Leaving?”

Natasha nods, looking down and then out the window again. “I’ll still work at SHIELD, with Clint. I’ll still be around. But I don’t know if I can be here,” Natasha says, her voice breaking slightly. “I need to figure myself out, and I think I need to do it somewhere away from the farm.”

Laura clenches her teeth together, somehow knowing the argument is already lost, and looks down at Lila, who is snuggled against Laura’s body.

“Where will you go?”

“Somewhere,” Natasha says evasively, her voice low. “Probably somewhere far.”

Laura holds her daughter a little tighter, afraid to ask the next question. “Will you...will you come back?”

Natasha bites down on her lip and then meets Laura’s eyes, nodding.

“Yes,” she says. “Eventually, I will come back.”


NOW
As the afternoon dips into late evening, Natasha approaches Laura, who’s curled up on the chair clutching her owl mug between two hands.

“We need to talk.”

Laura responds immediately, taking her feet off the couch. “I’m listening.”

Natasha sits down, fidgeting with her hands. “I know you’re wondering why I stayed away. Why now, after we thought we worked everything out. I’m not going to apologize for how I feel. But after Banner...after I lost myself...after SHIELD fell...I’ve never felt so lost,” she says quietly, swallowing down the emotions coloring her voice. “I couldn’t be here. I was too scared. I was too...I made a mistake.”

“Nat.” Laura tries to smile and Natasha shakes her head.

“Say it.”

Laura looks at her curiously, and Natasha crosses her arms. “Say it,” she repeats harshly. “Say that you thought that I would get it erased.”

Laura looks a little hesitant, and then nods. “Yes,” she says, glancing at Clint, who is passed out on the couch with a sleeping Lila. She holds her cup a little tighter. “I thought you would get it erased. After the way you pushed yourself away from me...from us...even when you came back and when you were okay, I didn’t think you wanted any reminders of this. Or of me.”

The confirmation of what she’s been worried about ever since she returned to the farm causes Natasha to make a noise in the back of her throat. “That’s not true,” she whispers fiercely. “I’ve always loved you. I just didn’t know how to deal with it. The soulmate marks, the kids...what it did to us. What having your kids did to me, the outsider who was never meant to be a part of this family, but got sucked in anyway.”

“But you could’ve been,” Laura says desperately. “You could’ve been here for Cooper’s games. You could’ve been here for Lila’s birthday. You could’ve been here for Nathaniel.”

“I know,” Natasha admits, her voice breaking. “I know, I…I told you. I wasn’t thinking. I needed time.”

“You took a lot of time,” Laura says softly, glancing towards her daughter and her husband. “You took too much time.”

“I know,” Natasha says again, reaching for her hand. She looks around the house, the place she had once thought of as a second home, the place that she hasn’t let herself feel comfortable in for far too long. “And I know it’s late, but...I want to try to get it back.”


THEN
Laura tries to forget about the fact that Natasha’s taken off, along with trying to convince herself that she just doesn’t care, but it doesn’t exactly work. She sees the reminders everywhere, even when she’s not trying to -- in the empty side of the bed that soon becomes cold and hard, in the eyes of her children who want someone to play with when their parents are too busy, in the eyes of Clint who goes away and comes home but always returns alone, harboring the same, sad look.

“Anything?” Laura asks when Clint’s home for the holidays and has come back from checking the mail, handing over already-sifted through bills and cards. She tries and fails to keep the hopeful note out of her voice, even as Clint shakes his head.

“No,” he says with a sigh. “Nothing.”

Laura presses her lips together. “Did she say anything? I mean, before you left?”

Clint looks sad, and a little wistful. “She told me to wish you and the kids a Merry Christmas,” he says softly and Laura blinks a little too fast to hide her own tears.

“I guess that’s better than nothing,” she says after a long pause, and Clint reaches out and touches her arm.

“She’s still trying to figure this out, I think. Last week it was Bangkok, Vancouver, and then Edinburgh. I barely saw her except when we had missions together.”

“In other words, she’s still running away,” Laura says curtly and Clint doesn’t answer, but Laura notices he doesn’t refute her words.

“You know Nat,” he says, as if the sentence is an answer to her words. “When she’s not sure how to deal with things, she runs.”

“She shouldn’t run,” Laura says. “I thought we made that clear to her. And she’s got a responsibility to me. To us.”

Clint drops his hand, looking chagrined. “You know that she doesn’t see it like that,” he says. “This whole soulmate business. She see it as…”

“As something manufactured,” Laura finishes sadly. “Something that’s not real, instead of believing in true love.”

Clint nods. “Kind of hard to argue with, when that’s exactly what this kind of thing is, Laur.” He shrugs sadly and reaches up to stroke her hair. “I think we just got lucky.”

Christmas morning a few days later brings the arrival of three boxes that pile up on the porch, one for Cooper and one for Lila, both containing new toys and books. There’s no card, but Laura knows who they’re from and doesn’t bother to wonder if her instincts are correct.

Inside Clint and Laura’s box, the one that’s marked for both of them, there’s only one thing: a Starbucks gift card and piece of paper with a phone number written on it. They wait until they’ve settled the children with breakfast and hot chocolate, before they retreat to the study to call the number, which rings endlessly until a recorded message picks up.

“I’m coming back. I’ll be at the farm next week,” says Natasha’s voice, before the phone goes dead. Clint drops it to the ground, and pulls Laura in for a hug, exhaling loudly.

“Merry Christmas,” he says quietly, and Laura thinks she’s going to cry.

--

When SHIELD falls, it’s no different than aliens invading New York or Clint getting sent to New Mexico, or anything else that’s happened in Clint’s life. Laura remains unaffected and unaware, ensconced in the safety of the farm, while Clint murmurs the real threats and damage under his breath at night and lets her in on the things she needs to know to be safe. Neither of them hear from Natasha, aside from a quick phone call she makes to assure them she’s still alive, and Laura isn’t sure whether she should be worried or not. A week or so after the dust has settled in Washington, Clint finds her outside, sitting on the steps.

“You’re thinking about her,” he says, sitting down. Laura presses her lips together and nods.

“I can’t help it. I wonder where she is...what she’s doing…”

“If she’ll come back,” Clint finishes, and Laura swallows.

“I know it’s been getting better. She’s been getting better. But it’s still not like it was, before.”

“It’s not,” Clint echoes, and Laura leans against her husband. Natasha’s return a few Christmas’ ago had been more welcome than Laura would have let herself admit to, but there was no comparison: things were still strained, Natasha was still holding back in a way that hurt Laura’s heart -- at least, compared to how comfortable she knew Natasha always made herself at the farm. Clint had noticed it too, both in intimacy and in their conversations, and even though him and Laura had tried to keep things as normal as possible between them, Laura knows that he couldn’t help but worry about the state of their relationship.

“We should be patient,” Clint says after a beat. “That’s what we do when it comes to Natasha, right?”

Laura nods. “Sometimes, I feel like there’s only so long I can wait,” she admits and Clint sighs as he gets up.

“I’m going to put the kids to bed. Don’t stay out here too long, okay?”

Laura closes her eyes as he kisses her on top of the head. “I won’t,” she promises as she wraps her arms around her legs, holding herself more tightly as the sun starts to dip further down the sky, casting a warm but distinct chill and breathless wind over the landscape. It’s when she feels her eyes growing heavy that she snaps awake, noticing the shadowy image of a figure making its way around the dilapidated fence and growing gradually closer. Laura sucks in a sharp breath, hesitant to react, until she’s absolutely sure of what she’s seeing. When she finally makes her voice work, she’s surprised it comes out as steady as it does.

“Waiting for someone?”

Natasha smiles as she climbs the steps, meeting Laura as she stands up. “Just you,” she says, and Laura knows she can’t hide her emotions. Natasha’s face twists into a concerned frown.

“You thought I wouldn’t come back.”

Laura’s eyes fill with tears. “Clint told me what happened. Everything.” She pauses to give Natasha a chance to say something, and continues when she doesn’t. “It’s the perfect opportunity to run, isn’t it?”

“Maybe,” Natasha says, glancing up at the house and then back at Laura. “Or maybe I wanted to run here. Maybe this is where I wanted to be.”

Maybe this is where you need to be, Laura thinks, almost afraid to say the words out loud.

“Come inside,” she says gently, wrapping an arm around Natasha’s shoulder, taking in the warmth of her skin. “I’ll make you some tea.”


NOW
By the time Laura gets Cooper and Lila to bed, it’s later than usual, and she’s more than a little exhausted. When she comes out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom, she’s surprised to find Clint curled up on one side of the bed, reading his book. Natasha is on the other side of him, rocking Nathaniel back and forth in her arms.

Clint glances up as Laura enters the room but Natasha seems oblivious to the interruption, continuing to sing Russian lullabies in the soft, husky voice Laura remembers from when Lila and Cooper were infants. She hangs by the door, barely breathing, not wanting to ruin the moment.

“You used to sing to Cooper all the time,” Laura says when she finishes, and at that point, Natasha does look up, still rocking the baby gently.

“And Lila,” Natasha says. “Lila wasn’t as fat, though.”

“Hold your tongue where my baby is concerned,” Clint mutters grumpily, snapping his book shut at her words and turning over gently, so as not to disturb Nathaniel. Laura pulls down the covers, getting in beside Natasha.

“I missed you,” Laura says as she settles in next to her, and Clint cozies up on her other side. Nathaniel coos quietly, and Natasha nods.

“I know,” she says with a smile that reminds Laura of home. “I missed you, too.”