AFTER

Epilogue

Before Ultron

The farm had belonged to Clint for a long time. An old, run down shack of a farmhouse, a barn, whose red paint had all peeled away years ago, and 20 acres of land, Clint had purchased it back around the time he was recruited by S.H.I.E.L.D. and had spent the years since turning it into a safe house. Few people knew about, just Clint, Natasha, Coulson, and Fury, who, as it turned out, was not actually dead, as Coulson had so kindly informed him.

The farm was equipped with every defensive and offensive form of weaponry S.H.I.E.L.D. could provide (and even some S.H.I.E.L.D. couldn't), yet, it was one of the most comfortable safe houses Clint had ever seen. He's had to use it on more occasions than he'd like to admit, and over those stays he had turned it into something like a home. It was well furnished, warm, and the perfect place for him to rest and recover.

Clint had spent two weeks at Coulson's base. He got to meet the rest of Coulson's team, but spent a majority of his time keeping out of their way, while doing everything in his power to avoid Bobbi and her apparent ex-husband who Clint had given a nice bruised nose named Hunter. Besides those two's icy treatment, Coulson's team had been friendly and helpful. He'd received a room on one of the lower levels and spent most of his time there, while members of the team would stop by and keep him entertained as his stomach wound healed.

Jemma Simmons had not only helped treat his physical wounds, but had helped him find ways to lessen the nightmares that were the brunt of his mental complications. Thanks to her, he now had an acquired taste for tea, which he drank before bed each night. Leo Fitz, a brilliant engineer, had taken a shine to Clint's bow and automated quiver. He had helped Clint fabricate two new arrowheads; one that contained acid and another that would return to him like a boomerang. Clint really enjoyed the second one and found that Fitz and his gadgets were a welcome distraction. Once he was healed, May sparred with him to release his pent up aggression and the team's hacker, Skye, amused him with stories about Coulson and what the team had been up to while Clint had been imprisoned. He left the team feeling more stable than he had since the before the events with Loki.

When he was fit to travel, Coulson had traveled with Clint out to Iowa, where the farm was located. Coulson stayed three days to make sure Clint was stocked with supplies and properly adjusted to living on his own. Naturally, Coulson insisted he be monitored, so Clint wore a thin black wristband that tracked his vitals and brain activity. Jemma was keeping an eye on him from the hidden base.

Clint was sad to see Coulson go. After finding out his friend was alive, he had spent whatever time Coulson could spare speaking with him. The similarities between their stories were disturbing; people digging around in their heads, trying to make them believe whatever best suited their cause. Talking about their experiences was a great coping method. Clint wasn't quite sure what was wrong with Coulson, but clearly something from his life saving treatments had affected him. Clint had tried to pry something out of May, because he was sure she knew something, but the woman was a steel trap. He gained nothing from her.

Clint wished Coulson would've stayed at the farm and taken a vacation of his own. But Director Coulson, as Clint now took much joy in jokingly calling him, seemed to have a lot of important, and apparently secret, stuff to take care of and had elected to head back to his team. Clint hoped he'd keep safe. He'd just learned he was alive, he didn't think he could handle him dying again.

The routine at the farm was relaxing. There weren't actually any crops or animals to tend to, since there was no way to care for them when Clint wasn't residing at the farmhouse. Instead, Clint spent his time exploring the forests. Occasionally he would take his bow and hunt small game, which he would cook up for dinner. There was a small town a couple miles away and Clint purchased books from a local bookstore. He would read them out on the porch, beneath large trees in the woods, or by the small pond down the hill. He enjoyed the simplicity. Naturally, it didn't last.

By the time a month at the farm had passed and Clint had fallen into a comfortable, normal routine, he was dragged straight back into the mess he had been fighting so hard to escape.

He'd spent the day in the forest, gathering firewood since he had depleted his supply. A large pile of wood now sat just down the hill from the farmhouse, waiting to be chopped into manageable pieces by the pair of axes lying nearby. Having deposited the last of the wood on the pile, Clint was relaxing on the porch swing up at the house, a cold beer in hand, when his phone rang.

Coulson had given him a cell phone to help keep in touch. He'd only ever gotten calls from the director, and once or twice from Jemma to check in on his health. The number that was flashing on the screen was neither of theirs.

Clint set his beer on the porch rail and answered the call. "Who is this and how did you get this number?"

"Legolas! What sort of greeting is that?"

"Stark?!"

"Who else would it be, Robin Hood?"

Clint remained silent, both slightly stunned and deep in thought. "How did you get this number Stark?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D. couldn't keep their secrets from me before Hydra. They're actually a lot easier to get at these days, what with their entire server being released to the Internet and all. I really would have thought Agent would have made security the most prominent focus..."

"You got my number from Phil?"

"I got your number from Phil's laptop."

"How do you know about Phil, and S.H.I.E.L.D. for that matter?"

"Well," Stark replied as Clint stood up and started pacing the length of the porch. "There's a whole page dedicated to Phil's...situation on S.H.I. . I wasn't very happy to find out Fury decided to lie to us so we go beat up aliens for him through some crappy online blog."

"Yeah, you're not the only one," Clint mumbled in reply.

"You weren't in on it?"

"I was completely compromised. Do you really think Fury would have trusted me with something like that? No, he gave me a nice padded cell."

"Yeah, I read about that. Hope the head's feeling better."

Clint didn't dignify that with a response.

Stark ignored Clint's clearly irritated silence and answered his second question. "As for S.H.I.E.L.D., there have been quite a few occurrences going on in the world that reminded me of our favorite secret spy group. World dignitaries getting murdered, people turning to stone or something like that. I had JARVIS do a bit of digging. It wasn't all that hard to find out S.H.I.E.L.D. was still up and running. A hack here, hack there, bing bang boom, I've got Katniss's phone number."

"Enough with the nicknames, Stark."

"Sure thing, Merida."

Clint pinched the bridge of his nose, taking deep, calming breaths. He knew Banner was staying at Stark Tower with the engineer. How he kept the Hulk in while dealing with Stark was a mystery to him. If Clint had been in Banner's shoes, there wouldn't be much left of New York.

"What do you need Stark? I'm sure this isn't just a social call."

"You've got me there, Bard. Hmm, that's my second Lord of the Rings joke. I'm running out of ideas..."

"Stark!"

There was some rustling on the other end of the line and the loud noise of air rushing past, like Stark was driving with the top of his convertible down. "Yes, yes, hold your horses." Stark mumbled something, impossible for Clint to hear, but he heard JARVIS's name.

"Okay Barton, here's the deal. We're getting the band back together."

There was a long silence.

"What?"

"The Avengers. Despite the awkward circumstances that led to you joining, you know, trying to kill everyone and all..." Clint clenched his jaw, doing his best to ignore the billionaire's baiting. "You're still on our roster Barton. We could use your eyes."

Clint stopped his pacing, staring out over the acres of land that came with the farm. He was surprisingly happy with the calm life on the farm, but as his eyes drifted over to his bow and quiver, which were leaned up against a tree stuck full of arrows, he knew what his answer would be. Despite everything that had happened to him, Clint was a fighter. Nothing could keep him down long and no matter how content he was with his new normal life, Clint needed the action that came with being a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. Came with being an Avenger.

He took a large, bracing breath through his nose, releasing it slowly. "Alright Stark, you have my bow."

"Oh ho, Legolas has a sense of humor, does he now? Does this make me Frodo?"

Clint smirked to himself. Okay, maybe Stark wasn't bad all of the time. "So, what's big enough to need the Avengers?" he questioned, leaning up against the porch railing.

"Hydra."

Clint frowned. "I thought Coulson was dealing with them?" Although Clint was hungry for a bit of revenge, he wasn't keen to be dealing with the people who'd tortured him so soon.

"He was," Stark acknowledged. "But they've found the head honcho and decided to call in the big guns. Man goes by the name of Strucker. Apparently he's been dealing with some gifted people. Coulson doesn't want to take any risks."

Clint agreed with the logic. If there were powered people helping out Hydra, there was no one better than a god, a super soldier, and a Hulk to take care of it.

"When do we leave?"

"Well..." Stark paused as if consulting something. "The Quinjet should be landing in about three minutes to pick you up. A farm, really Barton?"

Clint wasn't even going to bother asking how Stark had found the location of the farm. "It's probably the most secure and discreet safe houses out there. Unless an entourage of paparazzi is following you out here. That might be problematic."

"Don't get your feathers in a bunch, birdie," Stark said as Clint moved across the yard to retrieve his bow and arrows. He was mentally composing a list of the gear he would have to bring along. Fitz had designed him a new uniform, his old one probably locked away in some Hydra compound. He was looking forward to giving it a test run. "You're super-secret layer's super-secret location will remain super-secret."

Clint hopped back up the porch steps and pushed open the screen door. He could just make out the sound of the Quinjet's engines off in the distance. There was a large, black panel next to the front door inside of the cabin, and Clint pressed his hand up against it to activate it. When the panel started glowing, Clint tapped a couple of icons, disabling the laser grid that encircled the property. It wasn't long after that before the jet appeared over the treetops, a small, humanlike figure flying not far behind. As Clint exited the building, the Quinjet came to a slow descent and landed not far from the porch, the ramp lowering to reveal the two biggest topics of every major news station; Natasha and Captain Rodgers.

Natasha smiled as Clint stepped forward, mirroring her smirk. Both were decked out in full combat gear, Rodgers' shield held loosely in one hand.

"Hey Natasha, Cap," Clint said as he tossed a wave to Doctor Banner, who was calmly seated towards the front of the Quinjet, and Thor, who sat opposite him.

"Barton," the super soldier said with a nod. "Have you got a suit?"

Clint's grin widened. "Yeah."

"Then suit up."

THE END

A/N: So, this is the end. I want to thank everyone whose read, reviewed, favorited, and followed. You guys rock and I couldn't be more lucky to have such wonderful people who love Marvel as much as I do reading this piece. I don't know about you, but I can't wait to see Age of Ultron. I hope everyone enjoys it! Who knows what fabulous fan fiction will be inspired by that movie. I can't wait to read, and to hopefully write, it. Once again, thanks for the support over the past weeks. I love you all! -Krieg