[She breathes just a little bit easier as Clint lifts their entwined hands so that she can hold his face in their joined hands. She can feel him, that reassurance that he's alive, here, warm and something that she can touch, hold onto. When he hadn't picked up the call she'd feared the worst, but he's here, so that's what she holds onto; the truth here in her hands.

She doesn't know what he's done, how he's coped with what happened, but for her part she's sure they can work it out. Her human husband against gods, magic and monsters terrifies her sometimes, makes her scared for him, but she trusts him. Does her best to understand the darkness her carries and ease it where she can.]

It must have been horrible.

[She almost says sorry, but knows that would probably just make it heavier for him. She sees his pain, but he sees their deaths, the loss, failure. She can only imagine what it was like for him. Left alone, without him, with their children gone? Worse than any tomb. Of course he left, but he can only imagine how hard that must have been, accepting that it meant they weren't coming back. So she leans into him, nuzzles a little bit into him, like the proximity can offer them the comfort that they both need. She sort of wishes they were back on the farm with the kids, but maybe they needed the space for a little while. A place where they could make sense of everything that had happened.

His laugh might be hollow, but she'll take it anyway. It's a start. Something to build on. She can work with it. Hold on for as long as they can because she's still just taking in the contact.]

But I'm glad you're here, too. Saving an alien planet is a bit outside of my skillset. But I'm sure we can figure it out together.