A/N: HERE IT IS! This story's arrival was first announced on my 'SOS' collection, but it isn't necessary to know that to understand this. This thought train came to me a while ago and refused to be stopped. (grins sheepishly)

DISCLAIMER: Yeeeeeeeeah, right… See any cows flying? Me neither. Which means that I own absolutely nothing. I wish I had the money to make a movie and hire Renner to star it…!

WARNING: some violence and language, adult themes, thus rated heavy T (at least for now)

TAKES PLACE: before 'Civil War', during Clint's retirement (I felt tempted to set this post 'CW' but then decided that the level of angst was already high enough with this premise, heh) / the mood fits what I've heard of post season 3 'Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D' (I haven't had the chance to watch that series yet, although I'm determined to VERY soon, so no fear of missing out on anything if you're not familiar with it)

A Long Flight Home

The End of Hiding

After several months Clint still wasn't sure how well retirement suited him. He treasured every minute he spent with his family, of course he did, especially with how much he'd already missed out on. But when the night fell, with its shadows, memories and nightmares…

It was like a flame calling out to a moth.

But he was settling in, with the patient help from Laura and their kids. Slowly yet surely he began to grow used to the domestic life. He enjoyed it, but he never stopped looking over his shoulder.

Because if there was anything he'd learned – the hardest way possible – it was that when something felt too good to be true it didn't last.

"Daddy!" Lila's eyes shone with excitement as they made their way towards their car, the little girl jumping from joy. She was clutching a brand new book to her chest like it was her greatest treasure. A book that should've been too demanding for someone of her age. "Did you know that hawks see eight time better than humans?"

Clint couldn't resist a small smile, even though it ached to discover how much she'd grown when he wasn't looking. He ruffled her hair, then placed a kiss to the top of her head. "They do, huh? Sounds like mighty beasts." If only she knew which name he went by on duty… It was better for safety that she didn't.

Lila giggled. "They're not beasts!" she argued. "They're amazing!" She looked at him with sparkling eyes. "Can I get a pet-hawk?"

Clint never had to come up with an answer. Because just then he saw eight suspicious shadows approaching them. His narrowed eyes scanned through the parking hall. It was practically deserted at the moment, just a few cars to keep theirs company. No help in sight.

"Lila." He'd been an agent and a dad long enough to be able to keep his voice calm. "Get into the car and lock the doors. Hide. Right now."

"Daddy…!" Lila whimpered quietly, terrified but obviously unwilling to leave him behind.

"Now!"

Lila began to run. He was unable to look away from her despite the approaching threat, because only seven of the eight attackers were headed towards him. Sheer terror squeezed his heart and he moved to help her, only to have the hostiles all over him. He fought them, with all his fire and stubbornness, while watching helplessly as the eighth one grabbed his hysterically screaming daughter. However long he had left to live, the sound of her panicked voice calling out to him would never stop haunting him.

He'd managed to take down six of the attackers when all of a sudden something sharp struck his neck. Just seconds later everything was spinning and swaying. The world became pitch-black.

It'd been a long, horrible day. One of those when the good guys barely won. It was on days like this when he found himself thinking far too much.

Phil Coulson sighed heavily as he entered the apartment he wasn't quite ready to call a home, feeling exhausted beyond his years. He needed a long, scalding shower. And a stiff drink. Then he'd sleep for a week.

All of a sudden he froze, his nose wrinkling at the thought of alcohol. Maybe not. It would've reminded him too much of all those times he sat drinking with Clint after a particularly 'bitchy mission' – well, they did that whenever one of them, usually Clint, wasn't in need of urgent medical care. He didn't need any more memories haunting him tonight.

There was nothing Phil could do about the ton's weight of guilt crushing his chest, though.

He'd go back one day. That was what he always told himself, what he clung to because otherwise it would've been unbearable. He clung to that desperate thought even though he couldn't help wondering what was still left waiting for him.

He was a dead man walking.

S.H.I.E.L.D as he knew it… before had gone up in flames – he knew because he was still working furiously to scoop together what little there was left.

According to Nick Fury's reports the original Avengers… weren't having it easy, either. Clint had retired. Bruce and Thor… Even Fury didn't know where those two were. The rest of them were doing their all to keep the new, expanded team together.

All that Phil had believed in, worked for, fought for, died for… Gone. Like his whole existence never made any difference at all.

And he very much doubted that Clint and Natasha would've welcomed him back with open arms and understanding.

Phil fought to shake off those gloomy thoughts with a deep sigh. His eyes, darker than usual, scanned through the apartment around him. This was his life now. People had died – good people, friends, allies – but by a twist of fate and with something like luck he was still alive. And somehow he'd have to make the most of it, for the sake of all those who'd passed away and those who were still fighting, too.

Suddenly Phil froze, sensing that something was… off. He frowned, instantly reaching out towards his gun and moving soundlessly further into the apartment. His eyes were sharp as they darted around, spotting far too many ominous shadows. What he found made the hand holding the firearm drop heavily. He gasped once, sharply, loudly. Not finding enough breath for any of the words crawling to his tongue, bitter as poison. It wasn't until years later he figured out why his eyes stung hellishly and blurred.

There in the middle of the living room, abandoned mercilessly and carelessly, were Clint's bow and a few arrows, drenched in blood. Along with a brief note. Although it'd been years – almost a decade – he recognized the handwriting immediately.

'You should've never become a ghost – now he'll pay for your sins.'

Clint woke up to a world of pain. He didn't open his eyes immediately, unwilling to give away the fact that he was awake. He felt and listened, willing his pulse to remain calm with years upon years of field experience.

He was hanging from something, his arms lifted above his head and hurting. It didn't help with the discomfort that metal dug into his skin. His captors hadn't been sloppy. His feet had been restrained as well. The bruises and injuries he received from the scuffle leading to his capture were expressing loud objections towards his harsh treatment. And the worst was, without a shadow of a doubt, still to come.

"Well, finally. I was growing impatient", a heavily accented female voice greeted him. "I'm not good at waiting."

Slowly and with unexpected effort Clint opened his eyes, just a little. At first all he could see was blur but soon the world around him cleared enough to show him a woman of his age. She looked like an angel with her long, blonde hair and big blue eyes. The darkness in her gaze revealed the truth.

"My daughter…"

"The cute little girl? She's safe. Scared, but perfectly unharmed. And she'll stay that way for as long as you play nice." The woman leaned closer, her eyes becoming nothing short of threatening. "You, on the other hand… are going to help me deliver a message."

Clint growled and swore colorfully, inwardly. If he wasn't so firmly restrained, he would've… "You're threatening my child… to send a message?" he hissed.

"Yes." The woman said it like it was the most natural thing in the world. Only a hazardous flash in her eyes betraying the emotions lurking underneath the cool exterior. "You'll help me demonstrate to Phil Coulson just how bad of an idea it was to harm my family."

Those words stung and hit like a bullet or a knife. Tore at Clint, so painfully that he could barely breathe. It took absolutely all his willpower to keep his emotions in check.

The woman didn't seem to notice the slip in his façade. Or perhaps she did, because her words gained fuel and her accent grew thicker. "If Coulson doesn't contact me I'm going to send you to him. Piece… by… piece."

Clint wasn't able to fight back a violent shiver. Because at that moment, looking into her eyes, he knew. If she was expecting a contact from Phil, Clint was as good as dead.

To his surprise she began to laugh. "Oh, your poor little lamb… You have no idea, do you?"

TBC

A/N: And so we begin…! Poor Clint – and Lila, too! And Phil. We'll see just how this whole mess ends… (winces)

Sooo… Was that any good, at all? Worth continuing? PLEASE, let me know! First chapters are always unnerving so it'd mean the world to me to hear from you.

In any case, thank you so much for reading! Who knows. Maybe I'll see you guys again?

Take care!