Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or anything recognizable as the Avengers. Same goes for Hurt Locker.

Sort of AU as it contains hints of Hawkeye's past that is not apart of the Marvel Cinematic Universe or Marvel Universe.

The apartment was almost empty. Most of the boxes were already packed up and labelled ready to go Portland. All that was left was a few personal affects that still needed boxing. Looking at her watch she realized that the movie company was late. With a sigh, Christine looked around the apartment that had been her home for the last three years. She had thought by her age that she would have settled down, married, had a few kids and maybe a few grandchildren by her age. However, her passion for music led her away from those ideas and she had carved herself a new life than the one she had originally envisioned. She had played under a few well know composers and felt even if she did not live the average American's life, she still live a pretty damn good one. A knock on her door pulled her out of her thoughts and she heaved herself out of the floor. "Finally," she muttered to herself as she stood up, knees creaking. Another knocked followed in rapid succession. "Hold on a minute," she called out as she unlocked the door and about knocked over her cello that was leaning against the wall. Fling the door open wide, she froze as she caught site of the pair standing in the hallway. "You're not from the moving company," she said in surprise. The woman of the group was wearing a light brown leather jacket with high heeled boots and skinny jeans. The man was wearing a red shirt, black pants, boots, and dark sunglasses. Definitely not the movers. He shook his head and cleared his throat. "No we are not," the young woman with the short red hair answered. "I'm Natasha Romanoff and this is Clint Barton. We worked with Agent Coulson." Christine took in the uncomfortable expressions of her ex-boyfriends coworkers and her heart filled with dread. "Oh," she paused. "Why don't you come in?" She stepped back, allowing the duo to enter her apartment. "I'm sorry I'm in the middle of moving. Please, make yourself comfortable." She waved over toward her couch that was half hidden under boxes. "Can I get you anything? I think I might have some bottled water left around here somewhere. Or juice? I might have juice. Sorry about the mess. I'm moving back to Portland."

Christine knew she was babbling, it was something she did when she was nervous. Phil had laughed at her on their first date when she rambled on about everything under the sun then promptly apologized on and on when she had realized what she was doing. His chuckle had cut off her apology and she flushed in embarrassment and in anger."I'm sorry," he laughed when he saw her expression change. Her anger had dissolved as he tried to give her a sincere apology while turning red in the face from laughing. She ended up giggling right on with him until the table next to them sent them glares as their laughter became louder. They caught each others eyes after the death glares the other patrons sent them. One quick exit later and they were doubled over in the parking lot. Phil had made her feel like half her age and she thoroughly enjoyed the time they spent together. However, his was job was "top secret" and she did not shield herself to what he was truly doing. Sure, she did not know the exact details but that did not mean that she was naive and she knew that if coworkers of Phil was in her apartment then something must have happened to him. Something bad.

Her hands shook as she pulled the water bottles from the fridge. "I'm really sorry. I don't have anything else."

"Mrs. Smith," the man spoke for the first time.

"Christine," she interrupted him. "Just Christine."

He tried to offer up a smirk but even to her it seemed strained. "I am sure you saw what happened in Manhattan yesterday."

"I did." Something clicked in her head and her eyes locked on the the woman leaning against her counters. "Oh my gosh, you are Black Widow! You are with the Avengers!" She had a superhero in her house! Phil would be so jealous! Black Widow offered her up a small, sad smile.

"Wait, what does this have to do with Phil?" Clint sighed, drawing back her attention before reaching up and removing his sun glasses. Her heart skipped a beat as she looked into the man's bloodshot eyes. The same blue eyes from the picture Phil had kept in her living room and in that moment, she knew. Phil would never be coming back. Yes, they had basically parted ways when she told him she was moving back to Portland to live closer to her sister but now there would be no phone calls. No chance to reconnect what she had decided to tear apart. No more long phone calls from lovers turned friends when she had a rough day. Tears pooled in her eyes as Natasha picked up and gave a brief run down of Phil's last moments. He had died doing what he loved and protecting what he loved most. Christine slammed her hand down, startling her guest. She cussed the so called god that taken away Phil. She even began to cuss at Phil for leaving her when strong arms guided her to a bar stool. A water bottle was placed in her hands and she took a sip. A few moments later, she began to pull herself together, wiping at the tears streaming down her face. Natasha had turned her back away and was looking at the window. Clint was crouched down in front of her, his eyes redder than earlier but his face still dry. "I'm sorry," her voice shook.

Clint shook his head. "No, I am sorry. Phil was a great man. He led a good life and saved mine. He didn't deserve to go."

"No one does, child." She sniffed, calming down.

He handed her a small bag. "I think Phil would have wanted you to have this." Opening the bag, she found a few photos along with some of Phil's personal items. A letter was sealed and addressed to her in Phil's handwriting at the top. Christine stood abruptly, nearly knocking over the stool behind her and startling the man in front of her. "Phil left something for you, too." Entering the living room, she plucked the small picture frame from the mantle. In it was a picture of Phil and a soldier with James stitched onto the front of his fatigues. That was the closest Phil could tell her about his job. Phil had told her that this was the man who had changed his life. The soldier looked a lot younger than the man in her kitchen but there was no mistaking who it was. "Here," she said and as she thrust the frame into his hands. "Phil told me that one day the man in this picture might come by and if he did to give it to him."She sniffed. "He always said you were like the son he never had. Well, more like nephew since I don't think he is old enough to be your daddy."

Clint smiled lightly, a true smile. "No, ma'am, he's not."

"I know you can't tell me what he did, but what was he to you two?"

Natasha answered from her position at the window. "He was our handler. He took car of us gave us directions and orders. Agent Coulson was our friend."

They stood together in awkward silence before the Natasha joined Clint's side. Christine took a deep breath. "Thank you. I know you didn't have to come but thanks. It is better than hearing it from the news."

Digging into his pockets, Clint pulled out a small card. "Here is my number. Feel free to call if you need anything." She stuffed it into her back pocket.

"Well, thanks again. I better finish packing." It was an awkward parting as the duo left. What could you really say? They all knew Phil in different ways. Sorry for your loss wouldn't cut it and anything else would be sappy. Christine closed the door softly behind them and leaned against the frame. Tears streamed down her face unchecked. When the movers showed up ten minutes later, Christine tossed the card in her pocket and with a silent goodbye and prayer for Phil, left New York behind her. She would never return.

The roof of Stark Towers still showed damage from the fight that had taken place a little over twenty-four hours ago. People milled about ninety-three stories below. Clean up was still taking place as debris was removed and some buildings with less damage had already begun repairs. Approaching footsteps warned him he had company. As Clint turned from his perch on the ledge, he saw Natasha draw near him and sit down. She sat facing toward the building. Even though she did not fear heights, she didn't really like to dangle her legs this high up on a ledge. Together they sat in comfortable silence before Clint handed Natasha the picture frame from his thigh. She glanced over at him before taking the frame. The picture must have been taken before Hawkeye was recruited to S.H.I.E.L.D. He looked young, early twenties and Coulson looked to be around the lower thirties. Phil had his arm flung around the younger soldier, smiling brightly as Clint look blankly at the camera. " That was the day Coulson recruited me. He was doing an intelligence mission in the same area I was stationed and needed my EOD team. It came to light that I had lied to get into the army, but he was impressed with my skills as a bomb diffuser and later my sniper skills. He told me he could stop me from going to jail if I joined him. If I pretended I never was William James, it would be like nothing ever happened. I was stubborn and arrogant but he ended up persuading me to join him. I was... broken, but he remade me. If it wasn't for him, I would be dead in Afghanistan or Iraq or somewhere else," Clint admitted quietly. "I think that is the only picture we ever took together."

Natasha listened quietly. She knew very little about her ally's life before he recruited her, only ever admitting that Phil saved him from a tight spot and saved his life. There life before S.H.I.E.L.D. was kind of like a don't ask don't tell rule. They could not change what happened to them, only change what they wanted to do.

"There was a key and an address in the back of the frame. It is to a storage locker. I think we should go check it out."

Natasha nodded. "First thing in the morning," she said as she watched the sun sink behind the horizon. Clint turned his gaze back down to the streets below, watching as the people picked there way through the destruction in the fading light. The new day would expose more of the life of the Avenger's most secretive agent.

Words: 1,914

Posted: 30 December 2012