THE DEATH SEASON ▹ final avengers ✓

23 | the remaining starks

chapter xxiii of the death season :

" WE HAVE TO TAKE A STAND . "

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" All we can do is our best,
sometimes the best we
can do is to start over. "
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january 24th, 2023

stark residence

FIVE YEARS LATER and Lisa Stark no longer wakes up alone.

The world that the remaining Starks knew has been shattered.

The future has been nothing like she planned, definitely not like anything she ever wished for. All those dreams she had as a young woman, as a little girl who still believed in fairytales and happy endings, were shattered the day they brought her back. History has a way of repeating itself, and war has always had a way of making young widows and fatherless children.

Lisa Stark just never thought it would happen to her.

She never thought the Avengers would fail.

The widow sleeps restlessly, no one there to comfort her now. Sheets are tangled between her legs and her scarred face is twisted in pain. A thin sheen of sweat is gathered at her hairline and her flawed chest heaves for oxygen. After... after it, her nightmares became the worst she's ever had. At first, she would wake up vomiting, the memories of it all too much even in her sleep. Now, all she can do is simply try to bury her screams deep inside her, just to spare everyone else.

And early in the morning, on a day like every other, the now twenty-seven year old wakes with a start, heart racing, shoulders shaking. Lisa claps a hand over her mouth, breathing as quietly as she can, trying not to wake the male being beside her.

Lisa forgot what it was like. To hurt. To mourn. To be afraid of herself.

Even when she wakes, she doesn't feel much better.

But at least she's not alone. Lisa can sense it in the room, another presence.

Her heart continues to race. Her breathing quickens. Her repulsors flicker.

She slowly, cautiously peeks over to the side and she nearly jumps out of her skin when she sees a little face with big brown eyes and soft chubby cheeks perched on the edge of her bed, staring up at her with a funny little smirk.

Still in a panic, Lisa nearly shrieks, "What the-,"

"Shh!" The little girl called Morgan Stark hurriedly demands, dropping a hand over the woman's mouth before she quickly clambers into her bed, not even bothering to ask permission, knowing her big sister would never turn her away.

The intruder only four years old sinks into the soft mattress and Lisa can't help but smile as the younger of the two yanks the sheets over their heads to make a mini blanket fort. This is not an unusual occurrence, Lisa has woken many times to find that certain little kid with features much like her own cuddled up close to her. This just may be the first time she's actually managed to scare her, though.

Her younger sister leans in real close and with their matching noses almost touching, Lisa sleepily whispers, "What's the sitch, pal?"

"Hiding from Daddy." Morgan speedily whispers back, "It's his turn to make breakfast and it's 'ucky."