This was my first venture into Avengers fanfic writing, until I obsessed over every bit of it, stopped and then posted like five other Avenger stories and now I've tweaked it to oblivion and decided to post it! I love Clint/Phil, and Tony/Steve. I've given them new and different backgrounds which I'll explain throughout this story and in other stories if this one goes down well. But just to let you know, everything started earlier than the film in 2012; Cap was found sooner, the team struggled towards cohesion less and became a family unit years before Loki. This is my Avengers Family Universe and I hope you enjoy it.

This story is set in 2012, the same time as the Avengers film and will follow it, mostly. It's split into five chapters. This one's in Phil's point of view.

We start off on the Helicarrier, before a mind-controlled Hawkeye begins to shoot it down. Loki is on board, imprisoned, after his fight with Iron Man, Captain America and Thor.

Please review and let me know how I've done!

'/' These are italics. '*' These are Flash Backs.

Laura X

The fear that consumes you…

The one when you wake up in pitch black darkness, alone. The one when you feel a presence with you in an empty room. The one when the person you love is hurt.

The one when you lose /everything/.

It is all-consuming, it is numbing, it is unnerving and it is /deadly/ fear.

This fear is what has led Phillip J. Coulson into Director Nick Fury of SHIELD's office; angry, vulnerable, and vengeful.

"Phil, he's taken your son an' husband from you, you've the right t'be pissed off an' upset."

I can't control it anymore, I sink to his knees on the ground, breath heaving out of me in a panic. My suit is creased and dusty, beyond saving. I doesn't care anymore. All I can see past my spotted vision is my glowing wedding band. The only thing keeping me sane. Nick's moved position from behind his desk. He's crouching in front of me, mumbling, I don't care enough to shut up and listen like I should.

All I can hear is "Barton's been compromised"… over and over and over in my head…

*"Loki's got Dickie too…" I can hear Fury's voice hitch. Clint shot him. I know that's not the reason behind his cracking tone. That's not the reason behind my cracking heart. We're standing here, watching our family follow a genocidal demi-god to battle.

I fire my communicator at the wall of the room before I continue to run out of the crumbling building, anything to just get a glance at my family, just to make sure they're okay, that they're not hurt... If they even are my family anymore.*

Here I am now. Wheezing on the floor of Nick Fury's office as my son and husband are under magical mind control, murdering people and beating us. At least we have Loki under control, even /he's/ being strangely compliant. I can't be the only one suspicious about that?

"Coulson… Phil? CHEESE!" I can hear Nick shouting, grabbing my shoulders, shaking. "Look at me." I do. "We will get Clint and Dickie back. I promise that we /will/ bring our boys home, but you've gotta watch your back too, ya listenin' to me?!" I nod as best I can. He gets up and mumbles something about 'calming down' and 'fighting back' before leaving me alone in his office.

Hope… Spinning my wedding ring calms me a little, I'm usually more stable than this. I'm unflappable, emotionless, hell, I've been called a robot multiple times; thanks, Clint. But I've never watched my husband and son willingly murder innocent lives... If I think I'm struggling, Clint will be a fucking mess after this… and Dick… All I can do is hope, hope they won't remember, hope they come back, hope they are still them.

He's only eight years old, why would Loki take an eight year old boy?! Unless he knew. I didn't even see Dick use his /skills/ to get to Clint. How did he know, unless Clint said something, thought something, which Loki heard? Dammit. He'll be nine in 43 days. He's been counting. I hate to remember the day we met him, but I love to, all the same…

*Richard John Grayson. The kid. The orphan.

Three year old son of Jonathan and Mary Grayson, little brother to Chris and Jane Grayson. Haley's Circus was never a perfect line of business, not as bad as Carlson's but rough enough. Enough that mafia affiliations led to deaths which led to tonight. Fury told me to take Clint and scope out the scene. We had full access to the show, although it was still swarming with local cops. With Clint's background knowledge and my people skills we could get somewhere… Clint always liked the Graysons…

"The bodies've been taken for autopsy. We're waiting for Social Services to collect the kid. No family. He refuses to move and screams every time someone tries to take him out of here." One of the local officers explained to me. My eyes glided over to the tiny child scrunched up in the corner of the bleachers we stood metres in front of. He had his knees pulled up to his chest and his head on top of them. He reminded me of Clint. Speak of the devil. There he was crouched beside the kid. Mumbling something so soft and quiet that even /I/ couldn't read his lips. I was alerted by the young boy's head lifting a little to stare at Clint and then he jumped straight into his lap, crying.

As I walked through the scene in the circus ring, I kept casually glancing at my husband and the small boy hugging him tightly. I was interrupted by another officer, all a pile of walking dummies in blue at this rate.

"Social services want to stick him in a home for the night, we can't keep him at the station… Unless FBI want him?" That was our cover, a couple of FBI agents called to the crime scene, Agent Collins and Martin. SHIELD couldn't be openly involved, they never could.

"Agent Martin seems to be keen on caring for the child at the moment. Thank you," my smile unknowingly widened at Clint's loving nature coming out. We had always wanted children but with this job, and the inability to reproduce between ourselves, had always got in the way. Maybe we still had a chance.*

That was almost four years ago. Now, we had adopted Richard, 'Dick'. We love him with all we have. Nick and Natasha were willing Godparents. As well as the whole of the Avengers and SHIELD to care for him. Although he seemed like a healthy child with minimal damage after his family was taken from him, Dick was always very quiet and subdued, for a three year old at least, when we first cared for him but with some time and Clint's love for his circus tricks, he flourished and trusted us. He's our little Robin. My two birds… We're helping him train, he loves to show off with his cousins, uncles and aunts in the Tower stimulation areas.

Tony and Steve, more Tony than Steve, were positive about training their children to be able to take care of themselves and the world, if it came to it. They had three; Barry and Peter who were six, adopted separately with similar birthdays, and Jenna who was four. Barry was incredibly fast with healing capabilities that rivalled Steve's after his Mother was killed by a man yet unknown although his Father was imprisoned. Barry also loved spending time with Tony in the 'shop, as does Peter. Peter has spider-like capabilities after a science museum accident, and /boy/has Clint made too many Natasha jokes! Jenna wasn't showing any visible powers or changes from being born of a super soldier and a genius, that was until she turned 1, she has since then developed super strength and the ability to heal herself and others. She's also incredibly smart and deceptive, for a four year old… probably takes that from Tony.

Clint adores this family. I adore this family, but I know Clint needed it more than he would ever say. After growing up in an abusive home and almost being murdered by his own brother, Clint could have only hoped for a family like this, and I know he did. I only hoped I could give Clint his wish. So far, so good. I knew about his family and problems before he had decided on telling me them himself. I listened intently anyway. No one had ever gained this amount of trust with Clint and I wasn't about to give it up for anything. We talked all night after we kissed for the first time. We shared our pasts and our hopes for the future like some sort of love-sick teenagers...heh… I remember it like it was last night…

*"Haha! They never even saw us comin'!" Clint laughed jovially. I love his laugh, he uses his whole body even though his specialty was to keep his whole body still for days at a time and remain calm and silent while he took his, never-missing, shot. I was staring at him as I chuckled quietly. I hope he doesn't notice my lingering gaze, I've tried controlling it as a superior officer should, although not well.

"That's kind of the point, Clint." I replied sarcastically. I could always be open with Clint, no matter what. We'd been inseparable since the day I pulled him out of that alley. I can't believe it's been almost a year since I picked up this dying, cynical, angry, 20-year-old boy. He wasn't just some boy to me, not any more. This was our first mission, with me and him alone, handler and sniper.

I'm seven years older than him but he doesn't care, we mess around and jab at each other like we're both 13 year olds. There was a little friction to begin with, Clint had problems with authority, to say the least. I'd been training him since that night. We'd grown a lot closer over the past 10 months, some would say too close; Fury, to be exact. I don't care, I lov-… I care for Clint and I just want to make sure he's safe and ready for his tasks.

I'm still watching him laugh. I don't remember reaching our motel room, not that it really matters. The mission went extremely well. The mark was shot straight through the eye, no casualties, no repercussions and a smooth exit. Everything you could wish for in a mission.

When did he stop laughing? When did I get so close to him? No, he's moving towards me. My smile (or what equates to a smile from me) becomes a little more suspicious but Clint just keeps walking closer and staring me right in the eyes. The cheeky glimmer in his eye has me glued to the spot. He's stopped an inch away from my face. His eyes are worried now, that makes me worried. But his smile, that smile, it keeps me calm as he leans in and our lips brush softly. I don't move, wishing this to be more than a dream. He leans in to make the kiss more than a touch. We savour each other, our scent, our needs but it isn't all lust and want, we just enjoy each other.

I've never had a night that was so perfectly slow, lustful and loving. We just sat there talking, making out (like literal teenagers) and staring at each other until our ride took us out in the morning. I know it seems sappy, like some ridiculous rom-com, but I wouldn't change it for the world.*

I'm suffocating again. Clint always brought out every single hidden emotion I had, whether he was here or not. That's why I proposed to him four years after our first kiss. He lay dying in my arms and I had to do something, say something, to make him stay with me. So, I proposed. It seems stupid now but it was important then.

"-Engine 4 is down-"

The speakers were screaming with alert calls and the Helicarrier shook violently. I raised myself up, wiped the sweat from my face and headed to the deck to stop my husband from murdering his family, kill an Asgardian demi-god and find my son. Easy enough. Thank the Gods we have the Avengers.

It was time to get my family back from that evil, narcissistic demi-god; even if it kills me…