Coming Home
Present
"So what's the word?" asked Bruce as he took the cup of coffee Stark was offering. He had been seriously caffeine deprived waiting for Barton to get out of surgery.
Tony flopped down into the chair next to Banner. "Steve's just finished securing the scene with Agent Sitwell now. He said Sitwell's throwing around words like security clearance and things being above our pay grade."
"We almost lost him, you'd think they would give us a little more than that," sighed Bruce. He wasn't sure he wanted all the details. He had seen how uncomfortable Barton was when they ran into Jäger during the team's capture, and anything that set the archer ill at ease was probably something that was going to make him angry.
Tony rolled his eyes. He had done some digging after their last tangle with Hydra and found nothing good. His search had produced a file that SHIELD had worked very hard to bury. The basics were the same as Barton's service file, but this one went in depth with the first three years Clint had made SHIELD's radar and he couldn't fault the man for never bringing it up with the team. He knew the score, but figured if Barton wanted them to know he would share, though Tony didn't hold out much hope for that.
Clint had made it through surgery proving once again that he was a tough son of a bitch. The prognosis was promising, but Stark would feel better, along with the rest of the team, when they could take him home. A remote island in the middle of nowhere was sounding really good too at this point. Some place where only the team could hang out until everyone was at one hundred percent again.
Stark got up and stretched the kinks out of his back. "I'm going to go find something stronger than this. You want anything?"
"As a rule, I usually abstain from liquor at eleven in the morning, but thanks Tony."
"Your loss," Stark muttered as he wandered to the elevator.
Three months later
A gentle breeze blew across the top of Stark Tower carrying the sweet smells of spring. Clint sat on the ledge dangling his feet. Everything below looked so small and distant, kind of the way the archer felt. There were no words to describe the disappointment he felt when he woke up in that hospital to find out that Coulson was, in fact, still dead. He had secretly hoped that the man was alive; that he'd been there for Clint through his whole ordeal. There were moments that he had been so sure that Coulson was there with him, it made him realize just how much he needed the man.
The team had come for him just like Coulson… just like his imagination had promised. He took some comfort in that, but the sense of loss was enormous and as soon as he was able, the archer had taken to brooding silently on the roof. To the team's credit, they had offered him their support, but allowed him the space he seemed to want. His three months of medical leave had left him a lot of time to think.
"Is this a private pity party or can anyone join?" asked Stark as he peered over the edge. He wasn't willing to actually sit on the ledge like his friend. Just looking down made him nervous; a side effect of getting thrown out the window by a crazy god.
"What are you doing here, Stark?" It wasn't said with spite, more with defeat.
"My tower, I can be where I want. Do you ever get the urge to drop a water balloon from up here?"
"What do you want?"
"I mean we should wait for someone like Fury to be walking in the building when we do it. Or Sitwell, he's rub me all the wrong ways this week."
"Stark," huffed Barton.
"Steve would be good. That ass has it coming."
"Stark!"
Tony paused and looked at the archer for a moment. "Look, you've been moping around here for three months now, and short of staging some sort of intervention with Dr. Phil… someone had to…look I know alright?"
Clint paled slightly and turned to face Tony.
"Against my better judgment, I'm just going to put it out there that I know."
"So what, this is your preemptive strike to kick me off the team? Keep it nice and simple and get rid of me before breaking it to the others?" Clint showed no emotion as he waited for the billionaire's reply.
Tony for his part wrinkled his forehead in confusion. "Kick you off the team… why the hell would we do that? Seriously, Barton, sometimes I can't even follow your train of thought."
"You read the file," hissed Clint. "I killed her. I'm no better than any of the other bad guys we go up against."
The words were uttered with more conviction than Stark was entirely comfortable with. "You don't know… do you?" he guessed.
"Don't know what?"
"You need to come with me," insisted Tony as he started heading towards the door.
Barton maintained his perch. "I'm not in the mood for games."
"Just… come with me. You owe me that much."
Reluctantly, Clint swung his feet back over and followed his teammate.
New York University
The pair stood outside one of the buildings watching the students come and go to class. "What are we doing here Stark?" demanded Barton who could think of better things to do other than an impression of a creepy stalker at a local university.
"Just wait for it," answered Tony, who was busy doing something on his phone.
Clint let out a huff but waited as he was told; for what he didn't know and he certainly didn't have a clue how any of this involved him. Eventually the main doors of the building across the path opened and a flood of students poured out.
"There." Stark pointed to a young brunette that had just exited the building. She hefted her backpack higher on her shoulder and offered a smile that lit up the whole block to a group of girls that came over to meet her.
"Kelly Pierce. Alive and well and working on her Masters," informed Tony.
Clint stood there gaping for a few seconds; disbelief claiming every part of him. "That's impossible. I shot her, I saw her go down." He turned sharply towards Stark. "I never miss."
"Well you might have to relinquish your title. Technically you didn't miss, you did hit her, you just didn't kill her." Tony handed Barton his phone. He had brought up SHIELD's file on Kelly and the orders to fake her death in order to give her a new life, one in which she wouldn't have to worry about anyone who had a grudge against her father. "She's happy and healthy, and a certain Agent gave her away at her wedding two years ago."
"So Coulson knew she was alive this whole time?"
"Looks like."
"Where did you even get this? The security clearance on this is… you can't get a hold of something like this Tony."
"You know me, I love to take credit for things, but I can't take credit for this. Someone emailed it to me after we got you back, and despite my ingenious efforts I can't find the source. And believe me, I've tried. Whoever sent it, they're good."
"Huh."
Stark took a step back. "Huh? I give you the biggest revelation of your life and all you can say is huh?"
"I didn't kill her," chuckled Clint, though Tony wasn't sure if it was in fact a laugh or a carefully masked sob. A weight had definitely been lifted though there were many more to hold him down. Of all the mistakes in his life he could change, he wasn't sure this was one he would have. The action was regrettable, the guilt burning deep within him as a low simmer that would never entirely consume nor extinguish, and the action should have by all means been rectified, but the end result wasn't something he could argue with. Phil had been right, he could save a lot of people, even if he would never be able to save himself. In the end, no matter the horror he would have to remember, it was worth it.
"I just want you to know Clint that even if she wasn't alive, it doesn't change anything. You're a good person Clint, and I want… no… I need you to believe that."
"Why?"
"Because if you can't believe you're a good person, then what hope do the rest of us have? I mean look at us Barton. One of my nicknames was the merchant of death. I built weapons that killed countless people. Bruce broke Harlem. Romanoff, I'm not even going to touch with a ten foot pole, and Thor has alluded to some less than stellar choices. With the exception of Cap, who I will find a skeleton in his closet even if I have to kill it and put it there myself, we all have black marks on our records. I'm pretty sure it's a prerequisite to the whole superhero club thing. What I'm trying to say is you're stuck with us, so you can't walk away and you can't give up when things get rough."
Clint chewed on his bottom lip and he pondered Stark's words. "Okay."
"Okay." Tony clapped Clint on the shoulder and steered him back to the parking lot. "Now that I've done my awkward touch feely thing for the day, let's go back home and crack open this bottle of one hundred and fifty year old scotch I procured last week."
The end.