[ Something in her softens at that; a little sad, a little tired. She remembers the feeling — not that they've had similar pasts, but she's a woman who has had to keep a lifetime of secrets, carry the weight of deaths she'd never been allowed to mourn, shut out the people closest to her in an effort to protect them. It's a lonely life, saving the world.

So she reaches across the table to rest her hand gently on his. ]

You've got me and Steve. [ Who else do you need? she almost says. ] The three of us have been through hell and back together. Some more than most, I know. But that counts for something.