Of Dust and Ashes: Chapter 39- The Last Page (End of Book 1)

AN: And so, we’re at the last page of this book. But fear not, dear friends for the story is far from over. We’ll have a few stand alone one shots that are mostly just a peek into the state of the world through some OC’s lives during the snap and then we’ll pop on over to book Two and the second half of this story. I do hope you’ll join be for a peek into the lives of Rita Blackmore and Sharon Watson as well as any other OC’s that decide to speak to me and tell me how the snap impacted their lives in a snapshot. Please do reach out and let me know if you have questions about how the snap impacted the lives of a given ‘type’ of person or occupation as these snap shots give me a lovely chance to share details that would otherwise remain on the cutting room floor.

I hope to see you all in Book Two.

Find my other work on the Masterlist- some angst, some fluff, some sexy smut for all flavors.

pairing: Clint x OFC
Series rating: M
Series warnings: adult themes, occasional smut, violence, mental health struggles- if it can be warned for, it’s probably in here at some point tbh

Kofi

All donations and Kofi purchased and sent my way will go toward paying down my student loan debt.

Current balance as of 3/26/22: $45,612.83

Chapter 39: The Last Page

They were sitting in the kitchen when there was a loud beep that echoed through out the room. The day had been typical, average for the new normal before that sound. Spring had brought warm air and chased away the last remnants of winter and leaving the promise of new growth behind.

“What was that?” The chair scraped against the dining room floor as she stood in a rush.

“Power switched over.” Clint looked around as if something would give away the change. “The generator sounds when it powers on and off- it’s an automatic, no worry system. Tony didn’t want Laura to have to fuss with it when I was away.”

“They got the power back on?”

“Looks like power bills are going to become a thing again.” Clint joked though is face showed no sign of laughter.

“Just another thing back to normal.” Hands shook as she stepped away from the table. It should have been a good thing. The world would recover and people would stop being hurt if things went back to normal. That’s how things got better, right?

“Are you okay?” Clint’s hands on her shoulders acted to ground her, to keep her mind from floating away from her.

“I should be,” She whispered.

“But are you?” He pressed, fingers digging into the muscles of her shoulders and keeping her well and truly planted there, in the kitchen with him.

“No.” The admission made bile rise in her throat. “I don’t want it to go back to normal.”

“It’ll never go back to normal for us.” Strong arms wrapped around her as he pulled her to his chest. She went willingly enough, clinging to him and the promise of his voice. “We don’t have to pretend that the world moves on.”

~~~~~<3

With the return of electricity, the world did indeed begin to return to normal at a faster rate.

On their next trip into town a few days later, they found seeds of normalcy. The soldiers were still there, though their numbers did not grow. There was a market set up on the sidewalks, farmers and householders selling what items they’ve been able to produce in the time since the world stopped. Trading and bartering were well in practice and the people did not look at each other with fear as they had before. Or rather, without as much fear at least. Occasionally, the money of the world before changed hands.

The grocery had indeed reopened. They walked the aisles, many of which were bare still, out of curiosity more than need for any goods. They had managed to ration and maintain their inventory over the winter and while there was significantly less flour, sugar and rice in their stocks, they still had plenty. There were signs posted limiting how many of which item could be purchased.

There were supply shortages as production was only beginning to limp forward. Things like toilet paper were on the shelf and limited. Trucks began to move goods again, though sporadic, limited and inconsistent. When the trucks did stop, they unloaded limited goods at each spot and mostly contained canned and paper goods.

“It’s so weird.” Dee whispered as they grabbed a pack of salted nuts and looked at the expiration date. It was a month over but they had made it into the stores. In the world before, stores would never sell expired food items but this was a very different world, still standing in the shadow of what had been before. “Expired.”

“We’re buying expired nuts.” Clint laughed and leaned into her ear to whisper, “At least my nuts are not expired.”

Dee choked on air, trying to stifle the laughter at the lewd joke. It had felt like a museum in the store, everyone inside had been milling about in near silence. “Don’t say things like that!”

After paying with cash as was required at all official stores that the government had opened or helped open, they settled for walking around the small city center. Booths and carts were set up, selling mostly food items. Some men had coolers with signs leaned against them advertising meat or dairy for sale.

“Do you think its safe?” Dee whispered when they first spotted them. In the world before, raw milk was frowned upon and most cheeses and yogurts were pasteurized. Storage temperatures for meat and dairy were strictly regulated. None of this was true for the meat and dairy being sold out of coolers in make shift booths and stalls.

“Safe enough.” Clint wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side. “In many places around the world, this was the normal for markets. People just made sure to check for freshness and cooked their food well to avoid getting sick. It’s a skill most in what we insisted on calling the first world nations had lost. A lot of people got a crash course in it though. What do you think about selling the chickens?”

“Why?” His arm tightened around her, squeezing her shoulder into his side in a comforting embrace as she carefully questioned his words.

“I was thinking when we can count on fuel supplies, maybe we could hit the road, travel.”

“You don’t want to stay at the house?” It was his home, his family home and the idea of him leaving it in a more long term way seemed strange to her. For most of their life together, they had spent it at the farmhouse or trying to get back to the farmhouse.

“Do you?” She was aware of the weight of his arm around her. What weighed more, his arm or the questions in the air?

“Not really. It will always be home and it served us well all winter but there are ghosts there. I don’t want to live with ghosts,” the way he smiled down at her, he could be talking about abandoning a favorite camping spot, not his family home. “I don’t think you want to either. Neither of us deserve to.”

“What will we do?”

“Wing it?” He shrugged. “Travel, see the world and… I don’t know, see what happens.”

“Wing it.” She laughed. It was so against everything she would do. It was against everything she should do with the world returning to normal. She should be planning to return home, have her window fixed and repair whatever other damage was done to her home. She should be figuring out of her job was going to return to existence and if she would still have employment.

What she should be doing was packing up the RV and heading west. She should be figuring out what money she had. The proper thing to do would be to try and find out what happened to their bodies (Was anything left?) and see to it that they were buried properly. She should be planning two long overdue funerals with too small coffins.

“Can we,” She swallowed a lump in her throat as bile rolled in her stomach. “Can we not let terrible people hurt people again? There’s been so much suffering. So much pain. I don’t want it swept under the rug so they can go back to normal. It- It feels like that’s what’s going to happen. What is happening.”

She didn’t understand the reality of what she was asking or how that would look in reality. What she did know was that Clint Barton was a hero. He was her hero. And heroes do not let the bad guys be bad because that was easier. Perhaps he was the last real hero left. She didn’t know if she could be a hero herself but if he wanted to continue his life mission, she wanted to help him.

“Okay.” Stopping in the street, he turned her to face him, searching her eyes for signs of fear, of understanding, of sanity.

“Okay?” She didn’t know what she was asking, not really but somehow he understood the permission she was granting him.

He knew what she wanted in her heart even if she was unable to face the horror of it. “Okay. But I make the rules if that’s what we do.”

“You lead,” she agreed. “I follow.”

~~~~~<3

It took less than a week to sell the chickens. It felt unsettling to see the coop clean and empty. The garden and make shift greenhouse were picked clean of produce over the week.

Much was processed and canned. Excess was sold for the money of old. What plants they could plant in the ground with a reasonable hope of their survival in the yard and field were planted. Those that were sure to die were potted and sold as well. They held hope to return to the farmhouse frequently, picking what produce was naturally ready to harvest, restock and rest in the safety of home.

There was a finality in the packing of the motorhome. This time, rather than packing for a few days away, they packed for a life away. They spent a week in all, packing and checking their supplies over again and again.

The dresser and closet in the bedroom was stocked, packed full of clothes. Extra shoes were tucked neatly in a drawer. Many pairs of pants filled drawers along with underwear and socks. They packed fewer shirts, expecting to not be as hard on them but still, they traveled in excess. The drawers under the bed were packed full of blankets, extra sheets and pillows as well as tarps.

Clint had secured a net to the overhead bunk that was secure enough to tie down, allowing the space to be utilized for extra storage. Clint filled the space with lidded baskets containing air tight canisters of flour, sugar and rice. Weapons were stashed near the door side of the bunk. Guns and knives were tucked away. Swords sheathed and secured to the wall. Quivers of advanced trick arrows were secured in place along with hundreds of standard arrows.

The propane tank was full. The batteries were charged. The solar panels were cleaned. Clint had even gone so far as to connect to the internet for the first time since the week his family were stolen from him to arrange legal ownership of the motorhome through less than legal means.

Cups, bowls, plates and cutlery were clean and stocked in the shelves. Where she had to make due with the knives and cooking supplies she had managed to get a hold of before, now she had a toaster and a knife block secured in a cabinet. The pots and pans they used most were stored along with cutting boards and mixing bowls.

Measuring spoons and cups were tucked away. Jars and bottles of spices, salt and flavorings were tucked into the spice rack in the small pantry. Cans of vegetables and fruits were tucked into the pantry right along with bins holding onions, potatoes, apples and citrus.

Meats were packed into the freezer as tightly as possible. The fridge was filled with more meats and bins of leafy greens. Eggs were tucked on a shelf, carefully placed to keep them whole. A glass jar of milk and a block of cheese- products of expensive trades with a local dairy farmer who was very protective of what remained of his herd.

When there was nothing left to back and nothing left to clean, they had nothing left to do but face the reality of the last night in the comfort of the farmhouse.

“It’s not too late to change your mind.” Clint’s arms wrapped tightly around her.

With the restoration of power, the natural gas plant also began to return to functionality. They no longer needed to heat the farmhouse with the wood stove or electric heaters.

That didn’t change the routine of building a fire in the wood stove at night and allowing the embers to die down during the day on the off chance it got cold before dark.

The fire roared in the open wood stove, throwing light out into the room along with the heat. The windows were cracked open. It wasn’t cold outside but it was cold enough to justify some added warmth. The fire was excessive, she knew that. He didn’t have to tell her. Opened windows balanced the heat thrown into the room to keep the space comfortable.

“Are you sure you want us to do this? We can unpack.” There was nothing he wanted less in the world than to force Dee to do anything.

“I do,” she assured, leaning into his chest. “Do you want to? I don’t want us to go unless we’re both on board. All or nothing.”

“All in, Babe.” Grabbing her hand, he spun her around to face him. He caught her hand in his. They spent the last night in the farmhouse dancing to the rhythm of the popping fire. “You and me, against the world.”

Clint pulled her closer and she melted into him. There was safety in his arms that she would never grow tired of.

“You know,” she whispered into his neck as she rested her head on his shoulder. “I wish the decimation never happened.”

“Me, too.”

“But in a world where it had to happen, I can’t imagine not being with you. I’m so fucking thankful that I met you. That you saved me, took me in. That you love me.”

“Sounds like you’re getting ready to propose.” He teased and she laughed. “I love you, too. Everything you just said- the same.”

“So good with words.” She teased him as they swayed as the sunlight dimmed with the setting sun.

“Yeah, yeah.” His laugh was rich and warm. It was a sound she would gladly listen to for ages, until the day she died.

“Forever?” She whispered as she looked up into his deep eyes.

“Forever.” He promised, resting his head against hers’.

~~~~~<3

It was warm and their naked bodies were covered with only a sheet. Trust had sought out cooler sleeping arrangements not that anyone complained about having the privacy. The fire had kept it far warmer in the home than it needed to be overnight.

Sweat had slicked their bodies when they fell together into the bed. It seemed fitting to spend the last night in the farmhouse tangled together in a mass of limbs, breathing each other in as he sank into her and she writhed around him. This was the home that they had fallen in love in.

Though neither said it, they were once again saying goodbye to a chapter of their lives. It had been a short chapter but a very defined one just the same. It’s pages were spotted with blood and the bitter taste of sadness and fear. What better way to celebrate the end of a chapter than surrounded by pleasure and whispering the names of one another as if a sacred prayer.

In the morning light, they were still very much entangled around one another. Neither was in a hurry to rise with the sun this last morning. Soft lips planted sleepy kisses on the mop of her hair, announcing that he was awake without making an effort to wake her.

“Morning.” She whispered, shifting to plant a tender kiss on his warm chest.

“Keep doing that and we’re not leaving this bed anytime soon.” The words were mumbled into her hair as he shifted to lay in part on his side, facing her.

“Showers, breakfast then head out?”

“No more kisses?” He pouted.

“You said if I kept on we wouldn’t be leaving. Can’t have that, can we?”

Clint leaned forward and captured her lips in a hot kiss. Strong arms pulled her to his chest. For a moment, she indulged in the feel of him, the way his strong chest crashed into the soft swells of her breasts. He ground his hips into her, making his desire well known as if she hadn’t seen the tent in the sheet before he shifted.

Leading kisses made their way down his neck. He leaned back, relaxing into the touch and where he had planned on it to go. Rather than lower, it lead to a void in the bed next to him.

“Excuse me?” He whined like a petulant child. “Get back here.”

“I’ve got to start our last breakfast.” Dee spared him a wicked smile as she buttoned one of his flannel shirts over her naked body.

“You can’t leave me here with this!” She laughed as he gestured to his member, poking rather comically up from the hem of the sheet.

“I’m sure you know how to take care of it yourself. You’re a big boy-”

“You can see I am.” He cocked an eyebrow as he interrupted her, hoping to bait her back to the bed.

“And you know how to use your hand.”

“But I don’t wanna.”

“Or you can take a cold shower. Go on, figure the boner out and come down to breakfast.”

“Can we have sex in the kitchen?” She laughed at his last attempt, not bothering to give him an answer as she made her way out of the room. “Aww, boo! You’re mean!”

“I don’t have to make coffee.” She called from the hall, laughter lighting up the space more so than the golden light of the rising sun.

“I’ll be good! Coffee please!”

It was a good way to spend the last morning in the farmhouse. The space deserved to be filled with light and laughter before being left to stand alone. The home needed to be left with warmth and love echoing within it.

It had come so close to being a memorial to the past, to pain and heartache. It was very nearly a tomb to hold the ghosts of his family. With all the love and laughter that had filled the home before, it was good to leave it with warmth and love now.

~~~~~<3

She watched in the side mirror as the farmhouse faded in the distance. It was perched on the rise of a slight hill and as the home on wheels rocked over the slightly uneven dirt road that would take them to the gate and the pavement.

As the house grew smaller and smaller, so did the time she had left to turn back. She could physically feel the time counting down and the cliff of change loomed as the gate came into view. There was no reason she should feel this impending change so physically but still, she did.

The farmhouse faded and became nothing as they crossed the expansive property that belonged to Clint. In a way, she supposed it belonged to her too for as long as she was his and he was hers.

“Having second thoughts?” Clint’s fingers were entwined with hers as he navigated down the road at a steady pace.

“No,” She mused, pulling her eyes from the mirror and directing her attention to him. The morning sun was warm upon his face, lighting it with shades of gold that highlighted the tan that had only begun to color his features as spring bloomed. “Just saying my goodbyes to home.”

“We’ll come back.” He squeezed her hand.

“I know.” A soft smile graced her lips. “Home is with you anyway.”

“So fucking cheesy.” He laughed as they crossed the threshold of the gate, It closed firmly behind them with a clatter of metal. “Right or left?”

“Left.”

And so, one book comes to a close and a new one begins. For Clint and Dee, the world will never return to what it had once been. The light was gone from their lives and what remained was a dim ghost of it, filtering through the clouds of dust still lingering in their memory. The damage was done to these two, as it had been done to countless others.

Now these two wayward souls have begun to heal but what scars will the wounds leave behind? How will these scars impact their futures?

Let us go now together onward, down the road as we follow them. What will they write within the blank pages of their book together? What will their story hold?

Will they find light and joy? Perhaps they’ll wed and build a life somewhere where none knows either of their faces. Perhaps they’ll find darkness. Will they cling to pain? Will there be bloodshed?

For all the questions, the answers lay on the road ahead of them and the experiences they shall share. Let us follow them together.

~~~~~<3

Tag list: @usedtobegoodfriend96​,@alcoholic-muffin​,@theoneanna​,@alexakeyloveloki​,@toozmanykids​,@j-u-s-t-4​,@missaphrodite23​,@winterisakiller​,@bambamwolf87​,@nonsensicalobsessions​,@tinchentitri​,@xoxabs88xox​,@queenoftheunderdark​,@carissime72​,@myoxisbroken​,@coyotesongwriting​,@wegingerangelica​,@faemapfae​​,@tnystrk-exe