Epilogue: Moving Back

Mo's P.O.V.

Stark arranged for a jet to take me home the next morning. I spent the night on the couch, having fallen asleep slumped against Thor's shoulder as I listened to him regale me with stories from Asgard. Natasha had sat on my other side, seeming mildly amused at Thor's tales, while Stark drank (Rogers rolling his eyes about it) and Banner scribbled away in a notepad, working out some lasted concoction. Barton never turned up again after leaving.

My stomach ached. Banner told me it could be a side effect of the toxin, but I didn't think that was it. I'd really upset Barton; thinking about it made my head swim. He must've thought I'd led him on, back when he'd asked me to stay. I'd never given him a definitive answer. He must have just assumed it was a yes.

I chatted idly with the pilot as he flew me back to Iowa. I'd said a quick goodbye to the Avengers team (excluding Barton) before boarding the aircraft, promising that I'd see them again soon. I really did intend to keep that promise. They'd become a second family to me. I wasn't about to completely drop them, regardless of what Barton must have been thinking. The rest of them probably didn't believe me either. Every time I came out of something bad, I asked to be returned home.

But I always came back. I just had to go home first.

I'd texted Brendon as soon as we took off, telling him to meet me on the football field when I landed. I'd also called my parents and listened to my mother cry as I told them all I was alive and how it happened. Watching me die on national television had not done much good for my family. But I was safe now, and they knew it. I'd told them I'd come home to visit soon, and I left it at that. Adam had seemed satisfied, at least.

The uneasy feeling in my stomach never left, even as the jet touched down on the field. I could see Brendon off in the distance, sitting alone in the stands. My stomach twisted again. "Could you wait here? Just for a little bit?" I asked the pilot, my voice quiet.

"Of course, Agent Mo."

I exited the jet slowly, gazing around at the familiar surroundings. I'd seen a dozen or more football games, watching from the same stands where Brendon sat, waiting. He was always waiting for me to come home. It was time for him to stop waiting, after all of this time.

It was funny how I'd been so desperate to come back to all of this only a year ago. Looking now at the patches of dead or dying grass, a sign of the coming winter, there was only a bitter taste in my mouth. How did this compare to the view of New York City from Stark Tower? Of the whole world below from aboard the helicarrier? I brushed the thought aside; it wasn't fair to compare what I'd always known to what I'd only just begun experiencing. It wasn't home's fault that there was a bigger world to explore.

It was slow progress over to where Brendon sat. My feet were dragging without any real conscious effort on my part. Every once in a while I glanced over my shoulder to make sure the pilot had kept his promise to stick around for a while. It was still waiting idle, the ramp still extended, in case I suddenly decided to make a mad dash back to it. But every step I took brought me further and further away.

Brendon's smile was bright. He lifted his hand in a wave.

Neither of us spoke until I'd climbed the bleacher stairs and sat down beside him. Even then, there was a pause. "You're home," he said.

I nodded. "I'm home."

"And you're alive."

"I am. Somehow." He laughed, and I echoed the sound. This wasn't so bad. "How have you been?"

He shrugged. "Better than you, if the news footage I've seen is anything to go on. How's the stomach?" I lifted my shirt just enough for him to see the bandage pressed against my stitches. He whistled. "Damn, girl. That's going to be quite the scar."

I smiled. "It'll make me look tough."

"You're tough enough without it."

We fell silent. My eyes were fixed on the jet; Brendon's eyes were fixed on me. I didn't know what to say, but he was waiting for me to say something. Anything. But I couldn't find the words.

He bumped my shoulder with his, chuckling softly. "Happy birthday, by the way."

I raised an eyebrow. What was he talking about? It couldn't have been my birthday already. I hadn't been gone from home that long, had I? I counted the days out in my head, from the time I left to the current day. Of course, I'd forgotten the couple of days I'd been passed out after my, um, stabbing. Brendon was right. I was eighteen. I laughed hollowly. "I guess I forgot."

"That's alright. I'm here to remember for you."

I pressed my lips together, dropping my gaze down to my feet. My stomach hurt worse with each passing second. "Brendon - "

"You're leaving again, aren't you?"

He said the words so plainly, so matter-of-factly, that I nearly snapped my neck turning to look at him. His eyes were sad, but there was a smile on his face. He reached out and took my hand in one of his, lightly squeezing my fingers. A moment later, he returned his hand to his lap. "It's the archer, isn't it? Hawkeye?" I blinked. "I saw the way he caught you when you fell. And how he held you, even when that alien thing was trying to take you away." Brendon shrugged again, turning to look out across the football field to the stands on the opposite side. "And you only acted so rashly after he got attacked and was about to die."

I could hear my heartbeat in my ears. "Brendon - "

"It's okay," he said. "I've known for a while. You left your sketchbooks at home, you know." He smiled a genuine smile and looked me in the eye. "You drew him really well. He should be flattered that you've paid so much attention."

I couldn't believe all of this was happening. I'd been so obvious in my feelings without even realizing I was doing it at the time. And I'd left it behind for Brendon to find. "I'm sorry," I said. I meant it, too. Hurting him was the last thing in the world that I wanted, but I couldn't pretend that I was happy here in small town Iowa anymore. That I could be satisfied by his side instead of Barton's.

There was a tiny grin on Brendon's face. He shook his head at me. "You don't need to apologize. I mean, at least you came all the way back here to break up with me. I think most people would have sent a text. I appreciate this."

"You deserve it." God, and it was true, too. "You've been nothing but wonderful to me. I never deserved you."

He laughed. "Well, I don't know if that's true. But thank you, nonetheless." His expression sobered, and his eyes fixed on me in the most serious gesture I'd ever seen from him. "He'll be good to you, right?" I nodded, unable to fight a small smile. Brendon sighed. "Good. That's all I can really ask for."

He smiled at me for a moment before nodding toward the jet. "You should get going, before your pilot decides you're taking too long."

We stood at the same time. I stepped forward, wrapping Brendon up in a hug. He set his chin on top of my head and held me tightly, a gesture that felt so familiar and at the same time so foreign after everything that had happened. "I really am sorry," I said, my voice slightly muffled by his shirt.

"I know. It's okay." Brendon took a step back, setting both hands on my shoulders. "This town was always too small for you. You've got bigger and better things somewhere else. I can't take you away from that." He smiled and dropped his hands back to his sides. "Just keep yourself safe, okay?"

I nodded. The uneasy feeling in my stomach had lifted somewhat in the last few minutes. "I will," I said. "I promise."

oOoOo

I'd never been to the roof of Barton's apartment building before, but I remembered him telling me that that was where he went to brood - or maybe it was Natasha who'd told me that bit of information.

It was probably Natasha.

Nevertheless, that was where I found him. Getting to the rooftop wasn't too difficult; it was easy accessible via the fire escape at the end of his hall. The wind blew my shirt tight against my skin as I climbed the ladder and eventually swung myself onto the roof ledge. There was the steady sound of arrows loosing and hitting home against a target above the whistle of wind. All the noise seemed to quiet as my feet touched down on the loose gravel.

He didn't notice my arrival until I was only a foot or so away from him. His blue eyes grew wide for a moment and he lowered his bow, but he quickly sobered his expression and resumed what he was doing. "I thought you went home," he said.

That wasn't exactly the warm welcome I'd wanted. Not that I'd really expected one, honestly. "I did." I clasped my hands together behind my back and chewed my bottom lip. "I broke up with Brendon."

He stopped for real this time, the bow slipping out of his hand in a brief moment of shock. "What?" His lips were parted slightly, his hair messy from the wind, and the urge to run and jump on him was almost overwhelming. But I kept myself contained. "Why did you do that?"

"You know why."

A cheeky smile split Barton's face and he stepped closer to me, leaning in toward me. "Yeah, but I'd like to hear you say it."

I rolled my eyes, unable to suppress a smile. "I really don't think I need to."

"You really do."

Laughing, I jumped at him, throwing my arms around his neck. He caught me easily around the waist, clutching me tightly against his chest. The kiss was different than either of the ones we'd shared before - he wasn't drunk and I wasn't angry, he wasn't possessed and I wasn't desperately trying to bring him back. It was just soft lips and hands burning through the fabric of our shirts, wind whistling in our ears and the swelling in my heart that this was not close enough, that I could never be close enough to him, not anymore.

When I pulled away, just enough to take a breath, I bumped his nose with mine and grinned. "I guess I just really like you, Barton."

The laugh that slipped past his lips was the happiest sound I'd ever heard from him, and he surged forward to kiss me again, one hand wrapped up in my hair with the other pressed against my back. If there were ever a moment to stay frozen in, it was this.

"Hey," he said suddenly, breaking away. I frowned, and he kissed the tip of my nose. "If this is going to work, you can't go around stabbing yourself anymore. I'm banning you from going near my arrows ever again." There was a grin on his face, but I could see the sincerity in his blue eyes.

I smirked. "So long as you don't go all 'damsel in distress' on me again, I think that arrangement should work out fine."

He gave the most heart-melting smile and kissed me again, sweet and slow, with months - years? - of feelings that'd been bottled up slowly pouring out around us. And in the moment I wondered how I'd ever thought I wanted anything other than the perfection offered up before me. It was always going to end up this way.

When I finally stepped away, I took his hand in mine, a broad smile on my face. "What happens next?"

Barton reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear, fingertips gently brushing against my skin. "Now," he said. "you get your really, really long nap."

"I think I napped long enough after the fight, don't you?"

"Maybe. But you didn't get to enjoy it."

But I didn't want to sleep, not yet. From over his shoulder, I spotted a discarded arrow lying on the ground beside his abandoned quiver. It was different than the others; he must have upgraded his design in the almost year I'd been gone before. I went over to it, bending down to pick it up. "I can't believe you kept that for so long," Barton commented, walking over to stand behind me.

I turned the arrow over and over in my hands, noting the small bit of blood that still stained part of it. The rest had been rinsed clean; he must've missed a spot. "I wanted to have something available in case I was in danger and needed a weapon." I laughed. "That's what I told myself, at least." Really, I must have been subconsciously keeping a part of him with me. "Just imagine, if you hadn't almost killed me with this in the first place, what happened a few days ago might not have occurred at all."

Barton snorted. "Right. You might be actually dead, or at least on an alien planet."

"Good point." I looked up at him, offering the arrow. "Do you think it still flies straight?"

He shrugged. "Might as well try it."

I grinned and pressed a kiss to his shoulder, followed by a quick one to his cheek. "One more arrow, and then we can nap."

He smiled down at me in return. Everything I wanted to hear from him was held in that gaze. "One more arrow," he said. "Just for you."

Bullseye.

A/N: Oh my God, y'all, I'm done. After six years of working on Animo, My Animal, and now Arrows, I'm finally done! We're finished! I did it! For anyone wondering, no, I probably won't be editing this at all, unless it's for minor spelling or grammar mistakes. Plot-wise, nothing is changing. I recognize that the events in this series are vastly different from what is currently canon in the MCU, but at the time that I started it all in 2012, I only had The Avengers to go off of (and the movies that came before it, of course). So, yes, lots of things are definitely wrong, but it wouldn't really be worth it for me to fix every little thing.

With that said, this is the official end of Mo's story! I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you stuck it out to the end, congratulations. I know from reading past chapters that my writing has improved significantly, and it's hard for me to get through the earlier parts because they're so cringe. If you're super into me and my writing, I've got other books and series available to read that may interest you. If you're just super into Marvel and think I'm kind of okay, I've got another idea for an Avengers fic, this time up to date with everything that's happened in the MCU. I'm not sure when I'll be posting it, but keep checking back to make sure you don't miss it! I'm really excited for it. Rather than Hawkeye, this one is going to be about a certain someone with a metal arm... *wink*

Anyway, thank you so much for reading! It's been an incredible journey, and I'm so glad you've been a part of it. I'll see you all soon. Much love! - Mady