Title: The Calm in the Storm

Summary: The consequences following the events of the Winter Soldier and explanation why Hawkeye was nowhere to be seen. Spoilers! for CA: TWS! Contains a good deal of assassin fluff. Will feature few other Avengers members.

Author's Note: Hi! This is my very first Avengers fanfic! I just saw Captain America: The Winter Soldier again and instantly a seed of inspiration was planted inside my mind and I just had to write it. Because I remember when I was in the cinema when Cap 2 first came out and though I was deeply entertained a single question was quick to form in my mind: "Where the f**k is Hawkeye?!" Fair enough he can't be in the movie, that's what it is, but a single sentence containing his whereabouts would have been nice or a little hint … anything! (But I did love the arrow necklace Natasha wore. We all know who that is for!)So I thought, hmm … He's probably on a mission and this came busting out!

So if you, like me, was slightly dissatisfied with the seemingly carelessness Marvel have about the character Hawkeye, this one is for you!

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything characters you might recognize. I merely borrowed them from Marvel and Disney … I might put them back when I'm done with them, still debating.

The most expensive thing in the world is trust. It takes years to build, seconds to destroy and forever to rebuild. For just like a mirror it can be repaired but the cracks will remain forever there.

The Avengers Tower, formerly known as Stark Tower, was buzzing with life. Especially considered what hour of the night it was.

But in light of recent events, it was no surprise. No one seemed really able to sleep, and New York seemed to have become truly a city that never slept. The Big Apple was still buzzing with the news the public had received and every single news channel and radio station was replaying every bit of information and footage they had gotten a hold of. Each part and person was scrutinized and examined thoroughly and almost every single citizen seemed to have an opinion that needed to be voiced. Even the alien invasion from two years ago was dragged right back through the mud.

It was utter chaos, mostly for those involved.

And it seemed, for Earth's Mightiest Heroes, there really wasn't a safe location for them anymore, other than Stark's rebuild Tower. Which was where most of those still inhabited on Earth had fled.

Tony sat together with Bruce at the kitchen counter with a glass of scotch for the inventor and a glass of water for the scientist. They were discussing the layouts of the Tower and possible modifications for protection, both from the public and any attacks from HYDRA, which would undoubtedly come. Tony was mostly talking about his plans and ideas, while Bruce sat there, looking thoughtful and just letting the billionaire ramble.

Steve was watching the busy and surprisingly crowded streets from high above through the large windows of the large, communal living room of Star- … Avengers Tower. He never quite could get use to the sound of that.

He sat on the floor, as far away from the other two and the lights as he possibly could. He was absently finishing his sketch and laying the final pencil strokes on Bucky's robotic arm, while his thoughts raced around in his head. Lately things had been completely chaotic and everything had seemed to crumble around him. A week had passed and he still wasn't any closer to locating Bucky and for the moment, he had felt like he needed to lay low and just take some distance from it all. As it had turned out, the only place still safe enough for him to do that had been here. Of course, Stark had welcomed him with open arms and a lot of remarks he really didn't have the patience for.

Luckily, the inventor had quickly picked up on that and left him be, which was much easier when Bruce had arrived.

Right here in the Tower surrounded by friends and high-tech security it felt safe. It was a sanctuary away from the reality and that was all each and every one of them seemed to need.

But they were a few short. Thor was off-world and would likely be for some time. Natasha … Steve had no idea where she was in the world but that was probably her plan too. As for the final member, his location was made known with the ping of the elevator.

All three Avengers turned their heads as the elevator made its announcement of its arrival at the floor and the doors slid open.

Out limped a very tired-looking Hawkeye.

He was dressed in black tactical gear and his quiver still hung on his back, although it was completely empty and carried a big duffel bag over his shoulder and a black case in his hand, most likely containing his bow. His clothes were torn and covered in mud and dried blood, the same of which clung to the archer's skin and hair.

His face was littered with bruises and small cuts and his eyes were completely blank. Though he tried to hide it, he was obviously exhausted and worn. He stopped short in his tracks as he looked up and saw the three pairs of eyes that followed him.

An awkward silence followed as the three Avengers eyed the former SHIELD agent. It was Tony that first broke the silence.

"Looking good, Katniss."

"Shut up, Stark. I did not wade through a 100 miles of Peruvian jungle just to listen to your crap," Clint's rough voice answered. And just like that, the silence disbanded and everything returned to its former comfortable feeling.

"You alright?" Bruce asked, taking in Clint's roughed-up state.

"Just peachy." Clint answered and turned his grey gaze towards the Captain, who had stood up at the elevator's arrival. "You. Next time you go destroying SHIELD, a little head's up would be much appreciated."

"I'm sorry about that," Steve could only answer.

"Don't worry about it," Clint shook it off. A small, wry smile appeared on his lips. "You did manage to save the world afterwards, so I guess it evens out."

Steve huffed out a laugh but quickly turned sour again as he saw Clint swaying slightly where he stood. "You sure you okay?"

"Yeah. Half of this blood isn't even mine." At Steve's surprised and questioning look, Clint shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "Had a few run-ins with some drug cartels."

Steve just nodded hesitantly at the off-hand explanation, but didn't press the issue further. He doubted the assassin would give up any more information, even if he could. Although with SHIELD gone, Steve suspected not much remained confidential anymore.

Clint set his shoulders straight from where they had slumped and cleared his throat. Steve eyed him, concerned. However, the archer simply shook off his concern and corrected the duffel from where it had begun to slide of.

"Not that this hasn't been pleasant, but I think I'm overdue for a shower," Clint said and turned.

"You want me to come scrub you on your back, dear?" Tony quipped from the counter, having remained silent for too long.

Clint's retreating back and his raised middle finger was the only response he got in return.

The water from the tap was running on full and droplets ricocheted of the porcelain. The liquid felt cool against his skin as he splashed the running water on his face.

His things lay forgotten on the floor just outside the open bathroom door as well as his vest and his shirt. His bare chest and back was littered with deepened yellow and purple bruises along with several different cuts, some deeper than others. He had a deep cut on top of his shoulder from a graced bullet, courtesy of a henchman with poor aim.

The price of being on the run.

He had been on a deep undercover mission, one that had stretched out far more than first assumed, mainly because he had gotten a lucky break. Luis Brado was a Peruvian drug lord, whose connections had reached much further than just South America with ties to several huge drug cartels from Italy, US and China and his power had only gained. When Clint had been sent in, it was to gather intel first, until by some lucky chance he had moved up the food chain inside Brado's own empire. He had no idea what had happened or how it happen, but one minute he had been sitting next to Brado, laughing like old friends and one phone call later a gun had been aimed at his head.

It had taken some doing, but somehow he had managed to get out of there with his body intact and hole-free. He left Luis Brado's body, neck snapped, on the floor in his office and burned down his entire compound, leaving his legacy in the ashes. It was not ideal, as SHIELD had hoped to find a way to figure out how to bring down the other cartels, but with the way events had spun out of control, it was the best he could manage.

After that, he had located the nearest phone booth, but when he asked for a secure line no one had answered. Instead he was met with a robotic female voice "The number you're calling are no longer in service". He had called Fury's secret line, then three of Natasha's and in a moment of pure desperation he had called SHIELD reception. Not one number he had spent hours imprinting into his mind had been available.

He knew no answers and no one could give them to him. He was forced to hitch a ride back to the States and that was more difficult than it sounded. During the trip he had to avoid the remainder of Brado's men along with his national and international allies. It wasn't until he found himself in Mexico, when he was near a television, that he began to understand what has transpired. With wide eyes and a racing heart he had watched the Mexican news reporter blabber on about everything that had happened in DC and with Captain America. His heart tucked painfully as the reporter mentioned both the top agent Natasha Romanoff and the death of SHIELD Director Nicholas Fury. (However, soon he received a coded message stating Fury's lie but he remained reluctant as to believe it.)

Along with the news came a realization that not all of the men desperately trying to kill him was working for Luis Brado. Those still tracking him was HYDRA, of that he was certain. And with the fall of SHIELD he knew every one of his safe houses was compromised. And those not known to SHIELD he couldn't risk going to. And that meant there was no safe haven he could return to.

Except one.

Stark Tower.

That tower was the only place he knew to be safe. Because if it wasn't then that would have been all over the news. Tony Stark didn't sneeze without the media covering it.

So he had set his course and two gunfights, three close combats, 50 walked miles through Peruvian forest and streets, three bus rides, one sneaked-on boat trip and four hitchhikes later, he had finally found himself in New York.

When he had walked in he had been extremely relieved to find three Avengers there, safe and sound. He knew Natasha to be safe too. He could not find her or reach her, but if something had happened to her, Steve would have mentioned something. Right now, he couldn't think of anything but sleep. It had been a few long weeks and he was completely exhausted from constantly being hunted and on the run.

The medical kit he had in his duffel bag stood open on the counter and he had retrieved a needle and thread so he could stitch the bullet graze. On the positive side, it had stopped bleeding a while ago. The angle was awkward, since he couldn't really use the hand connected to the wounded shoulder and his hands, his entire body in fact, were still shaking with fatigue. All of that made the stitching incredibly hard and long-stretched. He pricked his fingers a few times and on the fifth time he cursed loudly and considered just abandoning the task.

"You know Stark has about 50 doctors on his pay roll, right?"

He whipped his tense body around at the voice coming from behind him, disparaging himself for being sloppy enough not to hear anyone sneak up on him. His whole body relaxed again when he was met with bright green eyes and red hair. There was no hello or introduction, none of them needed one. Both had always leaned more against directness and stated things as they were not how they liked them to be.

Natasha stood in front of him, leaned against the doorway. Though she looked for all in the world like she didn't care, he could easily see through her façade. It was clear she was fazed and he knew her to be just as exhausted as he was. Otherwise she wouldn't have come here.

"Would you trust them right now?"

A sad smile crossed her beautiful features and she walked further into the bathroom and took the needle from his fingers. She then pricked it through the soft flesh and began to finish the rest of his messy stitches. It was all the answer he needed. He looked at her work in the mirror, her delicate fingers that moved the needle up and down in precise movements and her concentrated gaze, focused solely on his shoulder. Her silence and her focus on fixing a mere scratch told him more than her words ever could.

"You okay?" he gently asked.

Her fingers stopped fiddling for a second as she froze. Then they continued. "I'm fine."

"Natasha." His voice was low and careful, but firm. He saw straight through her lies and she knew it. Her eyes moved to his in the mirror and held them there for a long moment. They shone brightly, large and green. He saw in them the insecurity and fear she felt but that she tried to bury, because despite her life been publicized she was still the Black Widow. And the Widow did not fear. She didn't feel. But the Natasha Romanoff that hid underneath did and Clint Barton was one of the few people able to coerce her to the surface.

She sighed and knew she was made. Without breaking their eye contest she said, "Please tell me you're not HYDRA."

At first he frowned, but then he relented. He knew how much she needed to hear it. "I'm not HYDRA."

Instantly, it seemed a great weight had fallen off her shoulders. Of course she had known deep down that he wasn't HYDRA. They had worked together for so long and been through so much together that they could never do that to each other. They had walked the paths of Hell and then dragged each other out afterwards. So if one of them had been among the betrayers … None of them dared think what would happen. But that didn't mean the distrust had completely gone. Thanks to HYDRA it would always lurk right beneath the surface and it would take a lot of rebuilding before things were back to normal.

For the time being, she got back to stitching.

When she was done she tied the thread off and snapped the remainder of it away. When she reached for the patch of gauze that lay ready on the bathroom counter, her fingers twitched ever so slightly and she flexed them to make it disappear. But Clint had already noticed it. He saw the white bandage hiding underneath her shirt. When the shaking stopped, she took the gauze and placed it on top of the wound.

"Did he get you again?" he asked. He may not have been with her on her mission with the Winter Soldier, but he was there when she got home and when she told him about it in the SHIELD hospital.

"He did." Natasha admitted while she taped the bandage securely to his skin. When she let go of his arm, Clint turned around and removed her T-shirt from her shoulder to reveal the bandage that was fastened. There was no sign of blood stains on it and the archer quickly concluded it didn't bother her much. At least not anymore. His hands moved instead to the little silver necklace with the arrow pendant around her neck.

The two assassins stared at each other, taking in the injuries. Then both moved forward and engulfed each other in a tight hug. Clint placed his head in the nape of her neck and took in every part of her scent and warmth. For a while they just stood there. None of them spoke. They just sought the safety and calmness that came with the company of the other and in those moments the world stood still. SHIELD still existed, HYDRA was gone, they still worked in the shadow and everything remained the same. But then it ended and with it the illusion because they both knew that nothing would ever be the same again, even the two of them.

Natasha was the first to break the silence with a frail voice. "SHIELD's gone."

"I know," he whispered.

Their moment ended as quickly as it had come. Then her tight embrace lessened around his back. Her voice changed as her usual mask slipped in to place and her tough exterior returned. "I'm surprised you didn't take your gun in here with you."

He laughed for the first time in weeks at her small remark. "Most be getting sloppy."

Quickly they went back to what was their normal routine after every mission and for once they allowed themselves the luxury to relax and act like their world hadn't just crumpled before their very eyes.

It was their calm in the storm and when it was time to enter the raging winds of reality, they would do so with proud heads and hands linked.

Whatever came they could handle it like they always did.

Together.

End

Yeah, a little cliché and touchy-feely at the end here, but it felt right. And ending have never been my thing … Anyways, let me know your thoughts!