He should leave. He’d said his goodbyes. But his boots stayed nailed to the wood.
“Yeah. For another hour, maybe.”
“Good.” Tony pulled out a folded piece of paper—hand-drawn, crayon, with a heart in the corner. Morgan’s. “She left this in my suit’s boot last week. Said it was for ‘repairing the big donut in the sky.’” He smiled, small and real. “Let’s go fix it.” avengers-endgame
Clint nodded once. No speech. No grand vow. He just picked up his bow from the dock—the one he’d set down five years ago—and the string sang under his thumb.
Behind them, the quantum tunnel flared to life. Through the trees, he saw Steve Rogers step out, shield on his arm, beard gone, chin high. Natasha wasn’t there. She would never be there. But Clint felt her hand on his shoulder for just a second—light, certain, gone. He should leave
The lake stayed still. The cabin stayed dark. But the stars, for the first time in half a decade, looked like they were waiting for something to begin again.
Tony tilted his head toward the cabin. “She’s asleep?” “Yeah
Clint stood.