Work Text:
- - Interstate 55, 2037 - -
Nicole sat with her feet propped up on the dash, arms crossed over her chest. Stevie tapped her fingers on the wheel as she hummed along to the old pop song on the radio.
“Are you still going to keep quiet about why you’re taking me to Chicago?”
“Why can’t I just spend a few days with my big sister in the big city?”
“You’re a horrible liar, Stevie.”
“And you’re a real grouch.”
Stevie said all of this with a toothy smile, lips covered in pink gloss. She was a beautiful girl with Maria’s dark blue eyes and Natasha’s fiery red hair, always very bubbly and sweet as sugar. Even though she was three-and-a-half years younger than Nicole, she was noticeably taller and used the term “big sister” somewhat sarcastically.
“You know, Nicki, you sit really weird.”
“You’re just jealous that I got Mama’s boobs.”
“And her posture, too. Remember that one picture of her and Uncle Rocket?”
“The one where she’s sitting exactly like I am?”
“That one.”
Nicole watched as they passed Welco Corners. Forty minutes to Chicago.
Nicole Clinton Hill was born on 18 March 2015, the day after St. Patrick’s and she was therefore the reason that her half-Irish mother could never drink on the one day that her people were celebrated across the country. She was named after her Grandpa Nick and her Uncle Clint, the closest her mom had to a father and a brother respectively. She had grown up during the bleak days of the Blip and looked up more to her Mom, Aunt Yelena, and Grandma Melina. Much like Maria, she was a tough butch and a raging homosexual.
Stephanie Philippa Hill was born on 5 October 2018, six months into the Blip and the one ray of hope to pierce the gray skies. She was named after her Uncle Steve and Phil Coulson, a late colleague of her moms who had died during the Chitauri invasion. Because she was practically her mini-me (and because her emotional state was nearly shattered), Natasha absolutely adored Stevie and showered her in constant affection, turning her into a carefree soul who only saw the best in everybody. She wasn’t an official student, but Stephen Strange was teaching her the ways of the Mystic Arts.
“Why couldn’t we have just used your Sling Ring?”
“Because it’s about the journey, Nicki! We got to see the Abraham Lincoln Presidential Library and the Lincoln Monument!”
“Springfield was nice. I’ll give you that.”
“You have Link to thank. He was the one who recommended that we stop there.” Abraham Lincoln “Link” Rogers was their cousin, Steve and Bucky’s adopted son and a Civil War nut like their Uncle Clint. “He’s been teaching me Korean, too. I’ve always wanted to visit Seoul, see the sights that our moms did on their honeymoon.”
“So, that’s what you’ve been doing together?”
“Yeah. It’s hard learning a new language, let alone a new alphabet.”
“Okay.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Stevie rolled her eyes. “We aren’t a thing.”
“I didn’t say you were. As a very pretty bisexual woman, I’m sure you have plenty of potential suitors.”
“You think I’m pretty?”
“Look at yourself, Pip. You have perfect skin, perfect lips, a perfect nose, a perfect figure. Hell, you’re Natasha Romanoff’s daughter.”
Beaming, Stevie punched her sister’s shoulder. “So are you, Nicole. You probably look more like her.”
“How? I thought I had Mom’s sharp jawline.”
“Honk honk.”
“Right. My breasts.”
“And you have her stunning green eyes.”
“You sound like Mom.”
“If anyone sounds like Mom, it’s you, Little Miss Baritone.”
“Mama has a deeper voice, too.”
“Yeah, but Mom’s voice is military deep.”
“Is there a difference?”
“Of course there’s a difference!”
“You learn something new every day.”
---
It had been nice to lay down and sleep after driving for hours in a cramped car. Of course, it wasn’t entirely comfortable with snuggly Stevie’s head on her chest, but Nicole did love her little sister and had always made an effort to take care of her. Stevie had always been very affectionate because Natasha had always been very affectionate, and she had probably been influenced by seeing how close their mother was with their Aunt Yelena, who Stevie still referred to as Auntie Lena, just like when she was little. It was common for Stevie to fall asleep with her head resting on Natasha’s soft bosom, even at the age of eighteen; she had always been a mama’s girl. Their personalities conflicted, but they got along better than most siblings.
By the time that Nicole did finally wake up, Stevie was dining on microwave ramen.
“Good morning.”
“Hey.”
Stevie sat beside her on the bed and handed her a cup of steaming noodles. “Sleep well?”
“No thanks to you.”
“A lot of women would pay big bucks to spend one night with their head on all that Romanoff meat. You should consider yourself lucky.”
“I’m just waiting for the right girl.”
“And what is Ms. Right like?”
“I just want her to be tall and not stupid.”
“How romantic.”
They say there for a minute in silence, forking ramen into their mouths.
“Nicki?”
“Mhm?”
“Where we’re going today… Promise not to get mad?”
“That depends. Are we going to a brothel or a drug drop?”
“No.”
“Fine by me.”
They finished their breakfast, got dressed, and washed up. As usual, Stevie put on her green turtleneck and clipped a pair of golden loops onto her ears, while Nicole just put on a gray sweatshirt that had once belonged to Natasha.
The cold wind stabbed at their skin as they darted from the lobby to Stevie’s car, cranking on the heat once the doors were closed.
“Christ.” Nicole rubbed her hands together. “No wonder they call it the Windy City.”
Stevie entered an address into the GPS and followed its directions through the city. Nicole couldn’t figure out for the life of her why someone would want to live in a city that practically froze over in the winter and how it had risen to match the prominence of New York and LA; it probably had something to do with traffic on the lakes, maybe lumber and beaver pelts, or maybe it had boomed with the introduction of modern industry. She’d have to look it up on Wikipedia.
After a quick pit stop at Starbucks, the sisters carried on to wherever it was that Stevie was so intent on going. The car, an electric 2030 Stark Chariot, was a sixteenth birthday gift from Natasha to Stevie, paid for by the incredibly generous pension that Pepper paid to all Avengers. Nicole hadn’t wanted a car when she turned sixteen; instead, Maria gave her a rifle and they spent a day in the woods, warming themselves by a campfire and cooking s’mores after target practice. Natasha probably hadn’t breathed from the moment they left until the moment they came back through the door.
Nicole had always pitied her, having lived a life of secrecy and murder and trauma, but her wife and their daughters had seemed to be the only thing keeping her together after the Blip. Nashe remembered the first time that Maria went away after their move to Iowa, how Natasha held her eldest close like a teddy bear as she struggled to find sleep again. Maria had let her in on the secret of Natasha’s instability long ago and they had worked as mother and daughter to make sure that Natasha was happy. It made her want to cry sometimes.
Before too long, they pulled up in front of an old apartment building on a residential street. It was a brick three-story house, probably dating back to the early twentieth century. An American flag was hung from one of the supports which held up the roof of the porch, whipping violently in the wind. Pulling on her jacket, Stevie killed the engine. In an instant, Nicole realized why they were here and internally chastised herself for being so blind.
“This is Ed’s place, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
Nicole studied the house. “Does Mom know?”
Stevie shook her head.
“Let’s keep it that way, Pip.”
They stepped out onto the sidewalk. All their lives, Nick Fury had been their grandfather and they had thought nothing of it. To be standing in front of the house of the man whose eyes Stevie had inherited almost felt like standing before Barad-dûr, the Dark Tower of Sauron. They had no way of knowing what awaited them.
Nicole followed Stevie up the stairs and to the front door, standing beside her as she rang the bell. They waited for a tense minute, hearts racing in their chests.
When the door creaked open, they were greeted by a shorter man, hair white as snow. He stared at them from behind a pair of glasses.
“Good morning, sir. We’re looking for Ed Vernon.”
“That’s me.”
“Oh, wonderful! I’m-“
He held up a hand. “I know who you are.” A sad look came over his face. “You have your mother’s eyes.” He looked at Nicole and her blood went cold, or maybe it was the freezing wind. “And you have her blank stare.” He walked back inside, but kept the door open in an unspoken invitation. Exchanging a look, the sisters entered their mother’s childhood home.
It was dusty, lit by a lamp in the living room, the curtains drawn over the windows. A cat that looked like it was made of dust emerged from the kitchen, probably older than Liho. There weren’t many pictures on the walls, but Nicole saw one on a small table which she assumed to be one of Maria’s class pictures from high school, sitting beside a picture of a young Hispanic woman.
Ed sat in a soft chair, sighing as he did, and his granddaughters sat across from him. “So, what brings you here?”
Naturally, Stevie did the talking. “We just wanted to hear about our mom’s childhood, what she hasn’t told us. She doesn’t like to talk about it.”
“What do you know?”
“We just know that her mother died a few days after she was born, that she was close with her grandmother, and that the last time you talked was when she enlisted after 9/11.”
He nodded. “We did talk again a while back, maybe thirteen years ago. It was brief and it didn’t go well. She took a picture of her mother and stormed out. That was the last time.”
“How did you meet her mother?”
“You want the whole story?”
“Of course!” Stevie looked over at her sister. “Wouldn’t we, Nicole?”
“Sure.”
“Well, it was the spring of 1980. Jane Byrne was our first woman mayor and Ted Kennedy had been booed at the St. Patrick’s Day parade. The Mexicans were celebrating Cinco de Mayo and I, then a young FBI field agent, was executing a search warrant on a man who was potentially linked to the narcotics trade. Nothing came of it, so my partner and I decided to buy a couple of burritos from a truck and take a load off. We were just walking about, trying to keep the beans from spilling out of our wraps, when this young Mexican woman confronted us to ask why we were at their celebration. We talked, trading sarcastic compliments in good faith, and I walked away with her number. I’d had a few girlfriends since I came back from Vietnam and I thought that this was going to be just another temporary romance.”
“You were a veteran?”
“Does that really surprise you, Pip?”
Ed chuckled. “You really do remind me of your mother, Nicole.”
“You wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve heard that.”
“Were you drafted or did you enlist?”
“I enlisted. My father was in both Italy and Korea, so he was a battle-hardened Army man and wanted me to follow in his footsteps. My grandfather fought for independence against the Brits back when the IRA wasn’t just a bunch of young gangsters in masks blowing up cars, and the Vernon family has a much longer history of military service. I’ve always been a patriot, voted for every Republican until Trump, dedicate every Fourth of July to reverence to the founding of our nation, and fighting the Cong made me feel like I was doing a service to my country. Fernanda, Maria’s mother, was sympathetic to the counterculture movement and often snuck out of school to attend anti-war protests.”
“I thought Maria was named after her mother.”
“She was, but I call her by her middle name. It distinguishes them”
“Did your wartime activities cause you two to clash?”
“Not really. It was good for both of us to see the war from the other’s perspective.”
“Where was her family from?”
“They were farmers from Baja who moved to the States during World War 2 to find work in LA and they moved up here after the soldiers came home and took their jobs back.”
“When did she become pregnant?”
“It must have been… the middle of 1981. We’d only just moved in together and her family was upset that we were having a child out of wedlock, so we rushed to get married. It was tense, Vernons and Vasquezes crammed into the same church, staring at each other with suspicion and apprehension. Our parents hardly ever spoke to each other, and all they could agree on was that the baby ought to be baptized.”
Nicole leaned forward. She’d almost forgotten who they were talking about. “What was that day like? The day my mother was born?”
Ed thought for a moment. He scratched his lip and sighed. “It was long. The weather was just… It was cold, even for Chicago.”
“Jesus.”
“The snow blocked most of the roads, and what roads weren’t blocked were slick as a marble tabletop. The electricity was fluctuating and it was getting cold in the apartment, but one of our neighbors was a veterinarian who had delivered a lot of puppies and kittens and such. By the time your mother was born, Fernanda had lost a lot of her strength and she was very weak, but she insisted on nursing her. She ate only so that she could provide Maria with the nutrients she needed, but she didn’t make it.”
“How long did she last?”
“A week.”
For the first time in a long time, Nicole felt the taste of salty tears on her tongue, and the same was true of Ed. Stevie rubbed her back and pressed a kiss to her hair. The cat climbed up onto Ed’s lap, oblivious to the situation. Stevie nodded to the dust bunny.
“What’s his name?”
“Clover.”
“Interesting.”
Wiping the tears from her face, Nicole cleared her throat. “Why did you do it? Why did you take it out on my mother?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I never hit her. By God, I could never do that to her. But I did yell at her. I got angry with her. Often because of something trivial, always something that never needed a reaction like that. She was a good kid, very smart and very aware. I remarried in ‘97 to a woman named Elizabeth, and she was much better at disciplining her than I ever could have been. She would have preferred to make a lady out of her, but I don’t think she was unaware of what Maria was.”
“A lesbian.”
“Yes. I suppose it was always obvious, but I never made the assumption. She never had any interest in boys and she only ever bought movie posters if an attractive woman was on them. She never cut her hair that short, but she always wore it up in a bun. She was always annoyed when my family talked to her about church, though we were never that religious.”
“What about Fernanda’s family?”
“After the funeral, they really never talked to me again. I don’t think they expected that a Yankee gringo like me would want them around. I kept in touch with her brother Erasmo, but he passed away back in 2022. Maria didn’t seem to have any interest in making anything of herself. She just wanted to get out, and 9/11 provided the perfect opportunity. I think that, by joining the Marines, she wanted to prove that she was something, that she was better than me. That was the last time I heard from her until 2024.”
“She said that she didn’t want to be a soldier because you were one. She thought that, by being a soldier, it would mean that she was still a Vernon.”
“That makes sense.” He picked a clump of shed fur off the cat. “How did your parents meet?”
Stevie perked up. She loved romance. “Well, Natasha defected to SHIELD in 2006, just a bit before Maria became deputy director. They worked together for a few years, gradually falling for each other until they found themselves sharing a kiss, and she let her move into the first home that she’d ever really had. They just fell absolutely head-over-heels in love.”
“What’s she like?”
“Oh, Natasha is the best mother in the world!”
“She was forcibly sterilized by the Red Room, so she can’t have children. A family of her own was all she ever wanted and Maria gave her that chance. She’s kind and caring and loving… But I feel like that’s an understatement. She has a lot of trauma and no one was ever there for her, but every nightmare and every panic attack, Maria is right there by her side to help her through it. She cares about her so much.”
“And why is it that you are so much like her, Nicole?”
“I grew up during the Blip, so my childhood was spent in a sad and traumatized world. Natasha lost a lot of people who she cared about and, because she was the only thing keeping her from completely losing her mind, she obsessed over Stephanie from the moment she was born, so I spent a lot of time with Maria. We exercise together, jog together, shoot together… She’s made me the woman I am.”
“And I assume that you, Stephanie, spend more time with Natasha.”
“I suppose so.”
Ed nodded. “You look so much like them, Nicole. Vasquez women all have that striking jaw that most American men could only dream of.” He grabbed the picture of his wife from the table beside him. “I’ve got so much that your mother deserves to have. I haven’t touched her room since she left. You can poke around as you please. Before too long, it’ll have to be cleaned out anyway.” He pointed to a book under the coffee table. “Would you grab that? I’m not as young as I used to be.”
Stevie quickly snatched it up and moved over so he could sit between them. The cat brushed against Nicole’s legs before returning to claim the empty chair. Ed opened the book and flipped through a few pages, stopping to tap on a picture of an older woman with a small Maria on her knee.
“My mother, Clio. Any pictures of Christmas or Easter or Halloween are all thanks to her. She was always the one who volunteered at her school, took her on field trips and such, all while I surrounded myself with my work.” He flipped forward to some of her high school photos. “Elizabeth always made sure that she was dressed well, but also modestly.”
Maria wore a black turtleneck and a matching skirt, her hair pulled back and stockings over her legs. She held an American history textbook to her chest, smiling a little and clearly uninterested in being photographed.
Stevie brushed her fingers over the picture. “She’s so beautiful.”
“In a rare moment of secular clarity, my mother agreed not to send her to a Catholic school. She didn’t want her to grow up in an environment like that and Fernanda wouldn’t have wanted that either.”
Nicole studied the picture of her mother. Her skin was pale and smooth, and her arms and legs were long and slender. She was beautiful.
“You really want us to have these?”
“I’ve had them long enough. Maria deserves them more than I ever have.”
They sat there for a while, watching their mother grow from a newborn suckling at her mother's breast to the woman who had saved Manhattan from nuclear annihilation.
---
All that remained of the day was the glow of purple and orange melting on the horizon. It was quiet and the wind was chilly, sweeping across the Iowa fields. Nicole looked up at the house, holding the weight of Ed’s album in her bag and in her heart. Stevie threw her arms around her and Nicole reciprocated.
“Thanks for coming along.”
“I just wish you’d told me.”
They walked up the steps to the door and Stevie unlocked it, stepping into the warmth of their home. Liho looked over at them from her spot on top of the couch and climbed down to greet them; she was doing well for a cat that was more than twenty years old. Natasha stepped out of the kitchen, smiling sweetly as she embraced them.
“How was your trip?”
“It was great! We saw all the Lincoln sites in Springfield and we saw the Bean at Millenium Park and we went up to the deck of Willis Tower. We had so much fun!”
“We did.” Nicole nodded in agreement and shared a smile with her sister.
“Well, come, sit! I was just finishing dinner.”
Nicole knew that she had to get rid of the book. She grabbed Stevie’s bag. “I’ll take these upstairs.”
She made her way up to their rooms and set her bag in the small space between her bed and the nightstand. She looked at her Tomb Raider poster and thought of all the times she had enjoyed it, remembering the Pulp Fiction poster which hung in Maria’s bedroom at Ed’s place. On her way out, she stopped by Maria’s office and poked her head in. Maria looked up at her smiling. She was wearing her glasses a lot more now and, at the age of fifty-five, had a mature look that suited her very well.
“Hey, Nick.”
“Hi, Mom.”
Maria put her computer to sleep and walked over to her daughter, kissing her on the temple as she shut the door behind her.
“How was Chicago?”
“It was nice. We got a great view from the tower.”
“It’s something, alright. Did you like Springfield?”
“I did.”
“Clint?”
“Link.”
“It was 50/50.”
Nicole walked downstairs with her mother, a strong arm around her waist holding her close for comfort. They joined Stevie and Natasha at the counter, bowls of steaming mashed potatoes waiting for them. Maria kissed Stevie, who leaned into her touch.
“Hi, sweetie.”
“Hi, Mom.”
Maria sat beside her wife and pecked her on the lips. “We should go on a vacation sometime. It’s been ages since we were able to just get away from it all.”
“Yeah, how long has it been?”
“How old is Nicole?”
“Haha.”
Stevie stirred her potatoes. “When was the last time you were in Chicago?”
“I haven’t really been back since I finished my last tour in Afghanistan. If I’m in the area during a trip, I check up on my mother’s grave, maybe leave some flowers.”
“Do you miss it?”
Maria shrugged. “I’ve seen everything there is to see. It’s all a lot less exciting when you live there, like how someone in New York would be less impressed by the Empire State Building. Thirty years ago, Iron Man was revolutionary and now he’s just a piece of history.”
“That makes sense.”
Looking at her wife, Maria rubbed Natasha’s thigh. “I’m glad we took that trip to Korea a few years back. It’s not like we can just take a road trip over there.”
Natasha took Stevie’s hand in hers. “I’m so glad that you got to know us. I know it sounds weird, but Mom and I weren’t so lucky. You two are the best thing that ever happened to us.”
---
A fire crackled in the hearth and Liho basked in its warm glow. Natasha lay on the couch with Stevie’s head resting on her breasts, smiling as they slept. Maria and Nicole sat across from each other in opposite chairs, the former working diligently on her laptop. Nicole sat with her knees to her chest, wishing for the same sweet oblivion that Stevie had. As Maria had said, Natasha never stopped seeing them as her babies who she had to coddle and cuddle.
“Mom?”
“What’s up, Nick?”
“There’s something I need to show you.”
“Alright.”
Maria followed her daughter upstairs. Nicole’s heart was racing, but she knew that Maria had to see the album. She sat on her bed and turned on the lamp, pulling out the book. She turned to Maria, whose face had frozen in shock.
“Where did you get that?”
“Stevie took me to Chicago because she wanted to meet him. She didn’t tell me until we were right in front of his house.”
The look of concern in Maria’s eyes was like the one which Nicole only saw when Natasha was having a panic attack, but it was different in that she was the one suffering. She took the album from her, opening it to the first page. She looked at the picture of a man holding a rifle and strapped with ammunition.
“Larry Vernon, my great-grandfather.”
She flipped through a few pages, and the photos gradually turned to color. A couple of pages were dedicated to pictures from Vietnam. Her jaw tensed when they reached a school photo, labeled “Maria, ‘71.” There were pictures of Maria Vasquez in colorful ethnic dresses, vibrant and full of life. She smiled a little at a picture of her mother flashing Ed’s badge while he pouted sarcastically, hands cuffed. She held her face in her hands as she looked down on her pregnancy test. She looked beautiful in her simple wedding dress, her baby bump showing just a little bit. There were a series of photos displaying the gradual growth of her belly throughout her pregnancy, and she seemed so excited to become a mother.
When they got to the day of Maria’s birth, Nicole could hear her breaths grow shallow. Fernanda held her baby to her chest, nursed her with a loving smile, bathed her in the sink, sang lullabies to her. Finally, their eyes drifted to a picture of Fernanda kissing Maria one last time, the words “I love you Maria” written in the space below. Maria’s chin quivered and she took a shaky breath, eyes sparkling with tears. Tears stung as Nicole’s eyes, too. Maria removed her glasses.
“It’s okay, Mom.”
Silently, tears streaming down her face, Maria sobbed.
“Mommy…”
Maria cried out, and Nicole hugged her. It was the first time she’d ever seen her cry and it made her cry.
They sat there for a few minutes, holding each other. Maria pressed salty kisses to her cheek and petted her hair.
“He wanted you to have it. We were going to wait to show you, but I couldn’t.”
“Thank you, Nicole. God…” Maria wiped her eyes. “I feel like I’ve never been as affectionate as Mama.”
“No, no! Don’t say that. You’re not just my mom; you’re my mother. You carried me in your womb for nine months. You pushed me out of your body. You wore me in a sling against your chest and nursed me in front of the whole world. I grew from your egg. I’m part of you. I love you so much, Mom.”
Maria wiped the tears from Nicole’s face. “I love you too, honey.” She placed a hand on her cheek, smiling as she looked into her eyes. “I will never forget the moment I held you in my arms for the first time. You were such a beautiful baby girl. Mama cried when you looked at us because you had her eyes. Every time I look at you, I see the woman I love. I could not be more proud of you, Nicole.”
Maria wrapped her up in her arms and Nicole sunk into her embrace.
“He kept it up after your grandmother died. He cut out every article he could find about you after New York.” Nicole flipped forward in the book, skipping through Maria’s childhood and adolescence and service to the mid-2010s until they came to a magazine clipping, “Hill Applauded For Breastfeeding Daughter Openly.”
“That was right after Sokovia, when the Accords were still being negotiated. President Ellis was there. No one asked any questions. You were hungry and Mama was all tapped out.”
“Those things aren’t bottomless?”
“You’d think they were.”
They laughed, and Nicole rested her head on Maria’s shoulder as they continued to flip through the album.