The title for chapter ten is from "Jet Pack Blues" by Fall Out Boy

Chapter 10: she's singing baby come home

"–gone. Just gone. No note or anything, just this."

"But why would he do that? And now of all times?"

"I don't know. It looks like he just grabbed some stuff and bolted."

"This is not going to go over well when Pietro wakes up."

What wasn't going to go over well? Who left?

Pietro wasn't nearly alert enough to make sense of the snatches of conversation he heard as he slipped back into consciousness. He was a little more confused by the fact that he was even waking up at all. He was supposed to be dead. That was the plan. And yet unless the afterlife involved hospital beds and oxygen pumps, he was definitely alive. Not to mention he'd just overheard Wanda and Natasha talking, and he was fairly certain they were both alive.

Pietro opened his eyes, wincing at the brightness of the fluorescent lights after the tranquil dark of unconsciousness. So it was true, he was alive. He wasn't sure how he felt about that yet. And there was Wanda sitting at his bedside, and Natasha standing next to her, something thin and dark clasped in her fist. But where was Clint? Oh God, the things Pietro had said to him... just the memory of those words was enough to make him wish he'd succeeded in killing himself. He had to apologize, to take it all back, to let Clint know he didn't mean those things, that he loved him with all his soul.

"Wanda?" he said.

His voice was hoarse and his throat felt thick and scratchy, like he'd tried to swallow cotton. Wanda and Natasha turned to him at the sound of his voice, both looking surprised, relieved, and a little bit nervous.

"Pietro! Oh thank God, you're okay," said Wanda, taking his hand. "How are you feeling?"

"A bit dizzy," Pietro replied, which was an understatement – his head ached horribly. "Where's Clint?"

Wanda and Natasha exchanged a grim look.

"Wanda, where is he? Has something happened?" Pietro said.

"We don't know," said Wanda quietly. "He's gone. He just... left. Packed some things and ran away. He didn't even leave a note."

"Oh God... this is my fault," Pietro groaned. "I drove him away. I let him think I didn't love him anymore and now he's left and oh God, I would've died without ever telling him I'm sorry and this is all my fault..."

A strangled sob escaped him and Wanda squeezed his hand comfortingly.

"Shh, Pietro, it's okay, it's not your fault," she said.

"He'd have come back and found me dead..."

"No, he wouldn't," said Natasha. "He's the one who found you."

Pietro looked up at her, blinking away the tears clinging to his lashes.

"He did?"

"Yes. I know you didn't want him to, but he saved your life," Natasha said. "He was sitting here with you for hours, waiting for you to wake up."

"Then why did he leave?"

"I don't know. It doesn't make sense."

"We need to get him back," said Pietro. "We need to find him. I have to tell him I'm sorry."

"We'll find him, I promise," Wanda said.

"I'll tell the rest of the team," said Natasha. "We'll start looking. I know about most of his safe houses, that's a pretty good place to start."

"Thank you," Pietro said.

Natasha smiled sadly at him.

"Get some rest," she said.

She placed the object in her hand on the table by his bed, then left the infirmary. Pietro turned to see what she had been holding. It was one of Clint's arrows. The only thing he had left behind. No, not the only thing. He had left Pietro behind too.

"Are you okay?" Wanda asked.

"No," said Pietro, his eyes stinging with tears again. "I'm really not. I wanted to be dead, Wanda. It was the easiest thing in the world, deciding to die. But I didn't. I'm alive. Because of him and now he's gone."

"I know this is probably the worst thing I could ask, but I have to know," said Wanda. "Why did you do it?"

"I don't know... I just felt... no, feel... so empty... living doesn't really seem to have a point when you've got nothing inside you."

Wanda was crying now too, and Pietro felt bad but, well, she had asked. He had a feeling that making people cry was going to become a thing with him. If it hadn't already. He had been so out of it that he wasn't really sure.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"For what?"

"For hurting you like this. That's all I seem to be doing lately, hurting the people I love."

"No, Pietro. None of this is your fault," said Wanda. She leaned in and kissed his forehead. "Now rest. You need it."

"You'll wake me if you find anything about Clint?"

"Of course."

Three days. That's how long Pietro had been stuck in the infirmary. Not that he entirely cared. He was used to being stuck, cooped up. And besides, if he hadn't been lying in the hospital bed, he'd probably have just been lying on his own. He was too tired to do anything else, in every sense of the word. He was living in a fog.

Most of all, he wanted to know where Clint was, to know he was safe, for him to come home. He wanted to tell Clint that he was sorry for all the things he'd said, for trying to kill himself, for everything. He wanted to tell Clint how much he loved him and to kiss him over and over until there was no doubt in Clint's mind that Pietro loved him with every ounce of his being, that his love for Clint was just as unconditional as Clint's for him, that no amount of torture and mental instability could stop him from loving Clint.

But they had found nothing. Three days, and there was nothing. Clint was too good at hiding. Natasha and Steve had come by to visit Pietro and update him on the search. He had hoped it would be good news, that maybe they had found some clue, no matter now small, but it was just the same thing that Wanda had told him the last two days. Nothing.

"We'll keep looking," Steve assured him.

"What if something's happened to him?" said Pietro. "What if he's hurt? What if he's dead? I don't think I could stand it if he died thinking I meant all those things..."

"Clint's a spy, an assassin. He knows how to hide," said Natasha. "If he doesn't want us to find him, he's gonna make damn sure we can't."

"But what if–?"

Pietro's question was interrupted as the infirmary doors swung open and Maria Hill walked in, tablet in hand. Pietro's heart raced nervously. He knew Natasha had asked Maria for help finding Clint; she wouldn't be here if she hadn't found something out.

"I've got news on Barton," she announced, handing the tablet to Natasha. "Four Hydra operatives dead in three days, all from the same unit, all killed in the exact same way."

"How do you know it's him?" Natasha asked.

"They all had a picture of an arrow carved into their chests. Pretty obvious signature for a man whose trademark weapon is a bow."

"But why would he go rogue like that?" said Steve.

Pietro took the tablet as Natasha handed it to him and the minute he saw the picture of the first victim, his heart dropped. He flicked through the other three pictures, the same feeling of dread plucking at him each time.

"I know these men," he said quietly. "They were some of the ones who... that..."

He trailed off, but he knew that the others had figured out what he was talking about. These were the men who had tortured him.

"I know what he's doing," said Natasha. "It's revenge. He's hunting down everyone who hurt you."

Pietro looked down at the tablet in his hand, at the grisly pictures of the Hydra agents' corpses. Clint had killed these men because they'd hurt him. No, not just killed. This wasn't just sticking an arrow through their hearts and calling it good. This was vicious, violent murder. Part of him was glad knowing that those monsters had met their end, gotten the bloody death they deserved for torturing him. But in truth, he felt horrible seeing the coldblooded depths Clint had gone to on his account.

"I can't let him keep doing this," he said. "We have to stop him."

"How?" said Steve. "We don't know his next target. He could be anywhere."

"I know the men who tortured me," said Pietro. "Their faces are burned into my mind. We can make a list, find out where they are, try and figure out where he'd most likely go next and get there first. Please. I can't let him become a murderer for me."

"It's not a bad plan," said Natasha. "Pietro's right, we can't just let Clint go on a wild murder spree like this. We need to bring him home."

"Okay. Hill, gather all the intel you can on every possible member of that Hydra unit," said Steve. "I'll put together a team to go out and find him."

"If it's okay, I'd like to be on that team," said Pietro.

"Are you sure?" Steve asked.

"Absolutely. The only reason I'm still in this hospital bed is because I couldn't bring myself to do anything else. Now I've got a purpose. Something to distract me, to remind me who I'm supposed to be. And besides," Pietro said, "I have to tell Clint I still love him."