5 years ago, Clint Barton was at peace. Retired. Spending precious time on his farm, with Laura and Lila and the boys. It had been so good, such a sweet little thing, his life. He knew he had killed people, and he knew people had tried to kill him, but Clint had ignored his past.
He had neglected his family for so long, and yet they had waited for his return. Never left. Never gave up on him. His wife and children were proud of him for who he was, "Hawkeye." So it was only logical that he payed their patience and love back. He left the avengers, and he found joy in Laura's kisses and Lila's laughter, Cooper's strength and Nathaniel's optimistic personality.
Clint got to know his family. For real. He found with each new day he spent with them, he thought less and less about his life of a super-hero, and felt better for it.
So much better for it.
But then all hell broke loose.
It was a lovely afternoon. A chilly breeze was ruffling the grass underneath his feet and puting on the perfect melody for Lila's soft brown hair to dance to. She looked like an angel, she was so beautiful. It made Clint smile.
He had been teaching her to shoot, and, not surprisingly, she was a natural. Her eyes were filled with determination as she set her aim. As she fired. As the arrow left her bow and burrowed into the dead center of the target.
His heart beat a little faster when he saw the proud gleam in her eye at her obvious talent.
Laura was making hot dogs, and Nathaniel and Cooper were playing catch. With each soft thud of the ball in the mitt, Clint felt more and more at ease. He couldn't remember why he'd ever left the farm, the family.
Was the life of a super hero worth more than this life? This beautiful day? Clint wasn't sure.
Laura had yelled out something about mayonnaise on a hot dog, receiving a snarky remark from Lila. Clint had smiled ever the more brightly.
He had done a lot of smiling when he was with them.
"Two mustards, please!" He had shouted, turning toward his wife and boys.
"Come on Lila."
He had turned around, beckoning his only daughter to accompany him to the simple picnic awaiting them just a mere few yards away.
And she wasn't there.
He had called her name. Her beautiful name, the name he had given her. The cool wind continued to blow, but her waving brown hair was no where to be seen.
And then he had turned back to Laura, only she was gone to.
And the boys.
It didn't make sense. They had been there only moments ago. Laughing. Playing. Enjoying the lovely afternoon that didn't seem to understand now that something was wrong.
He had ran for hours, searching, all happiness gone from the moment. All joy gone from his life within a couple of seconds.
Clint had found only a deserted picnic table set with condiments and cheap paper plates stacked with roasted hot dog weenies and bread buns.
An abandoned mit and baseball lying mere paces away in the grass.
A bow sitting on the ground, it's arrow still tucked into the homemade target Clint had nailed to the tree long ago.
And ashes. Piles of dark, burning ashes. The wind picked them up and dispersed the remains.
So many ashes.
...
Out of all the people on the Earth (drastically less than there had been only half a decade ago,) the smartest ones stood in this very room. Tony Stark. Bruce Banner.
The strongest. The world's saviors. Natasha Romanov. Thor. Steve Rogers.
They all believed they could bring them back.
Clint didn't know if he could believe it or not.
He'd killed more people than he could count in the past 5 years, none of them innocent. Not like his family. Everyone he killed hurt others, and they didn't deserve to live while Laura died. While his innocent children died. Wanda Maximoff. Sam Wilson. Peter Parker. Why were they chosen over murderers and drug dealers and hit men?
They got Thanos. You get me.
Natasha had come to him with sympathy all over her face. Clint knew he had looked like a mess. Miserable. He didn't deserve her pity.
But there had been determination in her eyes too. She reminded him of Lila.
Nat had grasped his hand firmly, entwined her fingers in his. Held her umbrella over his already sopping form. She had looked him in the eyes, her's filled with resolve, his with anguish.
And Natasha Romanov had offered him hope.
She told Clint that they could bring his family back. Everyone who turned to dust, they could return to life. He hadn't wanted to believe her. What would happen if his heart shattered again? There were only so many times he could piece it back together.
And now, here he was. In a room full of super-humans, surrounded by billion dollar tech that could supposedly take them back in time.
"Alright, I'm not ready for this."
Clint turned to the panicked voice of a worried looking Scott Lang, who seemed to have just used a "Pym particle" accidentally.
"I'm game," Clint heard himself say, though he didn't know why he said it. The words had just escaped his lips, but there was no going back now.
...
"Alright Clint, we're going in 3, 2-"
Clint felt his stomach drop. The floor fell out from under him, and suddenly he was surrounded by bright shots of light. It felt as if he were flying at the speed of light, being sucked into a never ending vortex.
A blue tunnel formed around him, and his direction shifted every moment.
And then a heavy force hit him, and he fell to his knees. It took him a moment to realize where he was.
The world was dark around him. Clint took off his helmet in an attempt to brighten his view, and felt warmth coming from a door opening behind him. The farm-shed door.
Clint stood from his position on the dirt floor of the shed and glanced around in something between awe and misery. He had rarely gone to the farm since the snap, it was a painful reminder of everything he had lost.
Clint's eyes journeyed all around the shed until he saw through the doorway what he had been expecting.
There in the grass, his beautiful, simple little house, white and gleaming in the sunlight. He hadn't really seen it in the past few years, instead camping out in hotel rooms and bars around the world, just living until his next kill. His next mission.
When this mission is over, I'll be ok. Their death will avenge my family.
But he had killed dozens of people since the snap. None of them had made him "ok". None of them had brought his family back.
His wife's truck rested nearby, only a thin layer of dirt and dust coating its windows, unlike it's condition in present-day because of Clint's neglect.
Clint walked briskly toward his home. They would be there. This was the past, and his family was here. He didn't know how much time he had, but he had to see Laura. Lila and Nate and Cooper. A sense of urgency overcame him, and he felt his heartbeat rise in anticipation.
He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to hold his children in his arms and never let them go.
Something caught Clint's eye as he stepped onto the porch. Miscellaneous objects littered the floorboards. Amidst it all lay a worn leather glove. A baseball mit.
Clint went to back to the day everything changed. Shooting with Lila. Laura making hot dogs. The soft thud of the baseball as it hit Nathaniel's glove, flying from Cooper's calloused hands.
Clint felt tears brim in his eyes. He felt himself gasping for breath. This was his son's glove. The son that he hadn't seen in 5 years. The son he'd killed for.
And he could be right inside.
"Where are my headphones?"
Clint jerked his gaze away from the mit as he heard his daughter's annoyed voice. She was there, mere yards away from him. From the sound of her voice, her brother was there too.
He stood from his crouched position and took a small step towards the front porch steps. Lila's voice awed him, it was beautiful. Even when she was angry.
He could hear her footsteps.
And then his watch started beeping. He had seconds before they took him back. Away from here.
He didn't want to go.
He felt himself scream his daughter's name. Her beautiful name.
He slammed the screen door open and had one leg inside the house.
He could still hear her footsteps, only they were getting louder. Coming towards him.
He saw her shadow coming down the stairs.
He could practically see her.
And then she was gone. The house was gone. The baseball mit. Gone.
He was flying through time and space, headed back to the room full of superheroes who would be waiting for him. For his results.
But he didn't want to go.
His whole family had been dead for 5 years. They were the longest, most painful 5 years of his life.
Thanos had taken his family away. For a few precious moments, he had almost had them back.
She was just around the corner.
Two more seconds and he could've seen her beautiful brown eyes.
Just one more second.
But they were gone again.
...
The test was a success. They would go back in time, and get the infinity stones. If everything went right, Clint would see his family again by the end of the day.
But nothing ever went right when you were an avenger.
They had to try, though. For Laura. For Lila and her brothers.
For Peter Parker. Wanda Maximoff. Sam Wilson. All the families just like his who's lives had been snapped out of existence.
And for the first time in 5 years, Clint Barton had hope. He felt for the first time in a long time that there was a chance he could be happy again.
And so could so many other people.
So they would get the stones. They would take risks, and they would do whatever it took to bring everyone back.
The world's heroes were here. They failed the first time, but now failure wasn't an option. Everyone in the room with Clint was devoted to this mission.
If this mission succeeds, I'll be ok.
And it was true this time.
They had Pym particles and equipment. Weapons. Superpowers, even.
And they had hope.