AN: The final chapter. This is my first completed story! Please review! Also, I am actually open to requests for one-shots (or stories like this one, with a couple chapters), if anyone wants one. If not, I'll just try to come up with my own ideas…

Thank you everyone

Three

The battle was so bloody. It was something else about this new life that Pietro wasn't used to. Sure, he had seen the movies, and the occasional wounded soldier around base. But he wasn't any more accustomed to battlefield gore than an average civilian.

Pietro handled it well. Although he was unused to it, he found himself able to almost ignore it. He saw that Wanda wasn't handling the situation as easily, and started to go boost her morale with brotherly encouragement. Before he approached her, he saw that Hawkeye was already talking with her. While his sister who possessed an unfathomable power, leaned on Barton who was just a highly skilled agent for emotional support, Pietro found even more respect for the man building. He wanted to be like Hawkeye in attitude and composure, of not every area.

So Quicksilver continued to fight, until he saw Wanda rejoin the battle with Barton, looking refreshed and determined. He dropped by, seeing an opportunity to tease his favorite archer. In the area of speed and agility, Pietro happened to have Barton beaten, and he milked that fact incessantly. When he left again, he could faintly hear Hawkeye's (hopefully) good-natured grumbling.

He convinced Wanda to stay near him – she was strong and powerful, but inside she was soft. He could tell from her quick agreement to remain with him that she wanted to be near him.

Although instinct bade him to protect his sister alone, he darted everywhere, deflecting bullets and stopping enemies that threatened any of the Avengers. He sustained a few injuries, but outran most of them. He felt amazing, like he had finally found what he was meant to do. Saving people felt so good, especially when he had the specific ability to do so. One grateful look from a terrified mother of twins (a boy and a girl, reminding Pietro of him and his sister) was enough motivation to carry him through hours of fighting.

The battle dragged on, and the coms between the Avengers were filled with cries for backup and battle plans. Pietro remained silent, listening and making himself totally aware of what his new teammates were each handling at all times. He knew Stark and Thor were arranging something between them that only they themselves could accomplish, while everyone else fought the robots and ushered civilians to safety.

In making constant rounds around the city, Pietro found people buried under rubble in abandoned alleyways, children alone and afraid in buildings, and desperate elderly couples hemmed in by fire and enemies. He dug out animals, took out some robots, and looked at his good work for a brief second.

This was being a hero.

He reverenced the feeling, but shook it off. The battle was not yet over. Nagging at his brain was the thought that the battle was stretching out far too long. Pietro shoved it aside, valiantly throwing himself into the battle, but he wanted it all to end. He wanted it so badly.

As much as he hated to admit it, his body wasn't tireless. While Pietro was incredibly energized, fast, and durable, he was only human. He had been shot once, thrown around by robots, and used the muscles that had been asleep for too long in the oppressive HYDRA base. While the motions came back to him, it was still foreign. He was growing weary. The powers he possessed were still in motion; his body's idea of 'tired' was another's idea of 'energized'. But he couldn't deny the physical difference he felt.

He stopped to look around. The battle seemed over. In the com, he could hear that everyone's concern was relocating the citizens. The robots were practically annihilated, and all of the Avengers were either occupied with safely (or less dangerously than Ultron planned) lowering the city, or herding civilians onto aircraft. Standing amid the wreckage, the scene before him almost serene, Pietro felt a premature sense of relief.

In only a second, he knew why the feeling had been off. A helicopter of some sort was flying through the air, piloted by a not-quite defeated Ultron. The crazed AI was firing a storm of bullets towards the ground. Pietro immediately saw his target. Barton was helping a tiny boy out of a pile of debris. He saw that the archer was aware of the approaching helicopter by the way he pulled the boy underneath his own body to protect the young life.

In one second, Pietro's mind was running as fast as his body. Hawkeye was about to die for that boy. He couldn't let that happen. He couldn't let that wonderful man, who had a wife probably crying for her husband, and children probably wondering where their daddy was, die. He couldn't let himself, a man without a rivaling reason to continue living, watch Barton lose his life.

He respected Barton. He wanted to be like Barton. He would die for Barton.

All of those thoughts shot through his mind, but he saw each one clearer than day. In a second, he bolted towards Barton without giving himself a chance to do anything else. Although in his heart Pietro knew that nothing could tear him away from what he was about to do, his mind feared that instinct would intrude and carry him away to safety.

The spray of bullets reached Barton's curled up body at the same time Pietro did. The first one pierced his skin, and he couldn't believe the pain of the following onslaught. Each tiny metal jacket broke him, his skin, his body. He could feel every hole, every drop of blood that was saving the life of the man beneath him. He could feel every nerve that was screaming in protest.

When the endless firing stopped, Pietro stood, shocked. His eyes glazed over slightly, but he saw when Barton turned around. He could see the look of horror, and the unmasked sadness. He only forced the tiniest smile. He had done it. And he didn't have a single regret.

"You didn't see that coming."

Then, Pietro Maximoff saw nothing but darkness, and just barely felt his limp body hit the ground before it all became empty.