Chapter Sixty-Four
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The sun was just starting to rise over Missouri when we landed.

I didn't know what to expect. Not gonna lie, I couldn't remember if there was even anything big in Missouri. I couldn't even remember the state capital. But it did have St. Louis and Kansas City and Columbia — all of which was where we were not. No, we landed in a cornfield. In the middle of nowhere. Clint led the way, down a path that had already been trodden through the field. The stalks were tall and green and spread soft, sticky pollen in the cool morning breeze. I couldn't see past it.

And then it cleared, and before us was a ranch. A modest barn and a farmhouse, surrounded by pasture and more cornfields, low mountains in the distance. Nothing else for miles and miles.

The true heartland of America.

Birdsong swept through the air, stronger as the sun rose. There wasn't a single drone in sight. If I hadn't known better, I'd say that ULTRON hadn't even happened at all. This place seemed completely untouched.

The Avengers were silent around me as we filed down the gentle hill to the farmhouse, with its white paint and blue gables. It looked like something out of a storybook.

Although it was literally the asscrack of dawn, it seemed whoever lived here was already awake. The front door opened when we got closer, the screen door creaking as an older brunet man stepped out, about late forties and a few days unshaven, wearing a faded Missouri Tigers t-shirt, folding his arms at the side of our posse. "I take it things didn't go well?"

"Don't be a smartass, Barney," Clint sighed in annoyance. He had Natasha's arm slung over one shoulder as he helped her walk the distance from quinjet to house. In the same breath, he said, "How are the kids?"

"Still sleeping," the man, Barney, replied with a sort of knowing smile and a punch to Clint's arm. Standing next to each other, I noticed a particular resemblance. Were they related to each other? "They're fine. They'll be psyched that their Uncle Clint is back so soon."

"What are we?" Tony asked as Barney ushered the group inside. "Chopped liver?"

The living room was just big enough for the seven of us, stepping carefully around the toys scattered across the rug. The inside of the farmhouse was quiet and dim, the smell of something simmering in the air. Bacon. Eggs. Toast. My stomach grumbled loudly and I realized I hadn't eaten since before I left New York the first time. Barney was the last to enter, throwing me a quick, curious look as he passed before following up on Clint. "New blood, huh? You guys didn't tell me you were recruiting again."

"We're not," Clint replied, glancing at me for an uncertain moment before adding, "We owe her a favor."

Barney shot me a well-wouldja-look-at-that kind of look. "Earning a favor from the Avengers? Must be some serious shit."

"Clint!" Another voice called out, and a woman — a very pregnant woman — came bustling out of the kitchen, still in pajamas. She caught Clint in a hug, and then Natasha. "Nat, you guys, shoulda told me you were coming back so soon. I would've made more for breakfast."

"Oh, don't worry about it," Steve chuckled, tried to wave off her concern.

At the same time, Clint hooked a thumb over his shoulder, at the rest of the team, "Yeah, they don't need to eat."

Clint had helped Natasha to the living room couch, only for her to stand up again with a wince, "I can help with breakfast, its no big deal."

"No, no," the woman, whom I assumed to be Barney's wife, gently pushed Natasha back down on the couch. "It's no problem, really. Our chickens have been laying every day. We've got more than enough for everyone." Then she saw me, and glanced at Barney, "No seconds on scrambled eggs."

"Aww,"

"You must be Mia," the woman smiled as she approached me, taking my hand in both of hers. "I'm Laura. Steve always talks about you when he visits."

"Yes, he is very proud of his daughter!" Thor smiled, throwing his arms out to clap either of us on the shoulder. "As he should be."

"Uh, well, actually —" Steve held up a finger, looking a little awkward when I glanced at him. Apparently, Thor never got the memo.

And it looked like he was about to miss out again. Before waiting for anyone to say anything, Thor released us and gave a slight bow to Laura, before stepping back. "I thank you for your hospitality, Laura, Wife of Barton, and your delicious bacon, but I'm afraid I have to leave. There's something I have must tend to. I will return presently."

And with a great sweep of his red cape, Thor left the house, Steve trailing in his wake. I could hear their voices from the porch, but Laura was already dragging me to the dining room table, helping me take the shield harness off my shoulders and setting it down against the wall. No weapons at the table, she had said. Hard rule. The dining room was the only spot big enough to seat everyone here.

"So," I began hesitantly, as we were sitting around the table, the center filled with plates of pancakes, waffles, eggs and bacon and toast. A veritable feast as everyone helped themselves to the buffet, while Laura went to call the kids up the stairs. "What is this place? Is it a safe house?"

"No, it's a regular house," Barney replied, sitting at the head of the table and speaking around a mouthful of egg. "That happens to be hiding six of the most dangerous and wanted people on earth, but you know, semantics."

"Barney is a retired FBI agent," Clint supplied helpfully. "Among other things."

"I also have the misfortune of being his brother," Barney added with a smirk.

"Boys, behave," Natasha chided, as there came the chorus of small feet down the stairs. Three kids came bounding down, a girl and two boys. I recognized Howie immediately, dressed in button up pajamas decorated in airplanes. He saw me and smiled, giving a wave before flopping down in the seat across from me, next to Tony. It took a second for Tony to acknowledge him — when he did, Tony awkwardly ruffled his hair, earning a frown from Howie, who quickly tried to fix his hair afterwards.

"Uncle Clint!" The other two rushed the archer, nearly knocking him off his chair with their combined efforts.

While Clint laughed and teased them, Natasha feigned offense. "What, no hugs for me?"

"Yes, Auntie Nat," the girl said, coming over to give her a hug too. In a stage whisper that everyone could hear: "You'll always be my favorite."

"Aww," Natasha grinned, while Clint and Barney made equal sounds of complaint. The kids went around the table, the boy getting a high five from Steve and Dr. Banner tolerated only the briefest of delicate hugs from the girl (looking touched, awkward, and very sad at all once).

"Mia, this is Lila and Cooper," Laura added as they finally took their seats by her side, and then gave them a pointed look. "Say hi, kids."

"Hi, kids," Cooper said with a shit-eating grin that held a great resemblance to his father.

"Are you an Avenger, too?" Lila asked, with big brown eyes just like her mother. "Do you have a code name?"

"No," I said, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. She had asked it so loudly and I could feel the conversation at the table turning on me. I flashed her a smile before fixing my eyes on my plate. "I'm just along for the ride."

"She does have a code name, though," Clint said, holding up his fork. "Unofficially, she's known as a Pain in The — ow!" Natasha kicked him beneath the table and he winced. "What? I was kidding! It's actually Rebel Columbia."

Natasha wasn't quick enough to shut him up that time. The name still sent a chill down my spine whenever I heard it, still unused to the alias. But I'd be disappointed if I expected it to have any significance to the kids. Cooper made a face. "Never heard of you."

"That's probably for the best," Steve interjected just as Clint opened his mouth again. He cast a smile at the younger Barton siblings. "She'll just be staying with us for a few days, if that's okay."

"You can stay in my room!" Lila offered, her voice chirping. "We've got plenty of extra sleeping bags. It'll be like a sleepover! I haven't had one in ages."

"That's because there's an evil robot trying to take over the world, honey," Laura reminded her lightly, while buttering some toast.

"Yeah, it sucks!" Cooper added, scowling. "I was supposed to have a summer birthday party, but that got cancelled. And Fourth of July was boring."

I was rather taken aback by their nonchalant, mundane view of what was otherwise a catastrophe across the globe. I couldn't tell if it was because of their kids, or because of where we were. To Barney, I said, "It doesn't look like ULTRON has a big presence here."

"That's because he doesn't," Barney replied, and his initially jovial tone turned more serious. "ULTRON's keeping his focus on metropolitan areas, any city big enough to have a mall. Everywhere else, he has scant numbers. Our only problems have him been stealing our harvests. Trucks go out and never come back. Farms are suffering without the income, but I suppose that's a problem everyone has, regardless where they live. But out here in the sticks? We're free to do whatever we want. Except getting into the cities, of course."

"Rural communities are too spread out for him to effectively control," Steve added. "But he's also cut them off from major resources, like hospitals."

"We've had to turn the local vet into a clinic," Laura said. "The nearest town is saved overall. But the grocery stores are empty, and farmer's markets are basically the only way we can get food now."

"Things like gas and oil have to be regulated by the town council," Barney added. "Luckily it's going smoothly, everyone knows everyone in these parts. But tractors take up a lot of fuel and everyone's going to be suffering when they can't tend to all their fields. Getting enough feed for the animals has also been tough. Likewise, organizing any resistance is difficult. We'd have to coordinate with several towns and counties to make a significant effort. I've heard of state militias across the country have been making ground, though."

"Right now, we just want to keep our heads down," Laura added, a hand on her swollen belly. "Some people aren't afraid, and we're glad they're doing something. But we can't blame those who don't want to fight, either. Some things are too precious to risk."

"And that's what our job is for," Steve finished. "We fight the fight so others don't have to."

"And it's been going fantastic," Tony finally cut in, not without a small amount of sarcasm. It sounded like he was going to swear, before rethinking it in front of the kids. "As you witnessed first hand, Beanstalk, ULTRON is thoroughly kicking our asses."

"We'll figure something out," Dr. Banner offered, his voice quite small compared to everyone else's. A half-hearted attempt at optimism. "We usually do."

~ o ~

The Barton homestead had their own beehives, I was happy to discover. It was a good place to hide once the arguments started.

It had started innocuous enough, as most big arguments tended to. But it was clear there was a lot of pent-up resentment, unspoken feelings when Tony was trying to discuss ULTRON's threat.

Except what Tony made was a giant super powered robot AI bent on world-domination, so well intentions weren't enough.

"I can't possibly see how putting the entire Iron Legion under the control of an AI was a good idea," Steve had said.

"You weren't complaining when it was JARVIS," Tony had pointed out. "Everyone liked JARVIS!"

"And now he's gone because of ULTRON! Because we just had to try and interface a magic rock to a computer," Bruce looked very, very tired, dark hair astray. "I know what you were trying to do, Tony. I know you want to protect the Earth. From anything and everything from outside our planet. And inside, too. But giving this much power to any one thing? It never works."

"We've already seen what humans do when given that kind of power," Natasha pointed out. "We've seen what they do when people turn a blind eye and let a small council of people control the world around us."

"HYDRA happened because of that mindset," Steve agreed. "They think they're protecting the world, too."

"Are you seriously comparing me to them?" Tony demanded, jamming a finger down at the table between them.

"No," Steve raised a hand. "But ULTRON reflects some of their values. For whatever reason, he thinks what he's doing is the logical course of action, is the best for humanity. You programmed him to do that, and he figured out the rest."

"If — when — we defeat ULTRON," Clint added. "We're gonna get a lot of blowback from the government. I can feel it in my bones. They're not gonna care if it's just one of us who did it. The Avengers are a team, and they'll see all of us as guilty. Or complicit, or however you want to call it."

Tony blinked at him, frowning. "I'm under the impression that most governments are pissed at us at any given point in time."

"I think it's fair to say that when this is over, it won't be over," Steve said. "

"So? It'll be fine!" Tony threw up his arms. "We'll handle those guys like we usually do! Like if we have to deal with governments trying to impose sanctions on us, I call that a win because we're all still alive for that to happen!"

By that point, Laura had scattered the kids to whatever they were supposed to be doing now, but I had lingered. A mistake, I realized, when the argument turned to the Maximoff twins.

"And even if we defeat ULTRON," Tony had said. "Those kids are still gonna want to kill us. Lost cause by all accounts."

"That's not fair!" It had been my first interjection into the argument, and earned a scathing look from Stark.

"Come on, be real with me, kid," he had said, one arm folded across his chest while he waved the other one about. "You're gonna look me in the eye and say that these little terrors Strucker created, they're gonna magically get over their grudges when ULTRON is gone? Scepter or no scepter, they've got real beef with me — with us," he corrected quickly.

"It's mostly you," I said, frowning. "Your bombs destroyed their house and killed their mother. ULTRON's just weaponizing their emotions."

I didn't necessarily blame Tony for what happened. I know he didn't personally drop those bombs, and probably assumed whoever would be using them wouldn't use military-grade munitions on innocent civilians. Tony had admitted that before he and Pepper took over Stark Industries, there had been a lot of double-dealings that had been hidden from him. And ten years ago, he had been a raging hot, drunk mess. Those bombs could have belonged to either side of the old Sokovian conflict. Maybe they had been used by both.

But that's neither here nor there right now.

"I think they're perfectly capable of weaponizing that themselves." Tony remarked.

"They could still be reasoned with," Steve had suggested. "We don't know what their state of minds will be without the scepter influencing them."

"It's just as likely to make them more volatile," Natasha had said, leaning back in her seat with her arms folded. "No one makes rational decisions while traumatized. We have to face the possible reality of having to put them down."

"Look, I'm not saying I'm not pissed at them too," Clint started to look uncomfortable. "But they're only kids. I kind of draw the line there."

"I don't." Natasha had said.

"They set the Hulk on a wild rampage," Dr. Banner pointed out, rubbing his face. "And we're lucky it was only on the Avengers. What if that witch set him on the city? She could've had a lot more blood on her hands."

"But she didn't," I pointed out. Why would Wanda set the Hulk on the Wakandans? Why, when the Avengers were right there, when she could take them out in one fell swoop?

"We don't know what they're capable of," Natasha reminded me.

"And I don't trust anyone who does that mind manipulation thing," Bruce added.

I didn't know what to say to them, and turned to Steve, helpless, needing his sympathy, his rationality in all of this. He looked as pained as I felt, looking to Tony before saying, "We can still give them a chance."

"They've already had a chance!" Tony threw up his hands. "Two, if you count what she tried to do in Sokovia. They're not interested. I think that makes our choice pretty obvious here."

I didn't like the sound of that, my throat locking up. "You can't kill them."

"That's up to them, not us."

Steve held up a hand, stern. "I'm not advocating for —"

"Sorry, Spangles, but I'm afraid you've been outvoted. Unless, what, you only stand for democracy when it's convenient for you?"

"Excuse me?" Steve actually raised his voice. Not a shout or a yell, but I'd never heard him raise his voice before. It was preamble to the heated fight that followed, and the sign I needed to get out and calm down, before all this got the better of me.

So now I sat, huddled in a rock at a short distance from the hives. Just listening to the collected buzzing, watching as honeybees and fat bumblebees alike dotted the clearing, bouncing around between spots of clover and dandelions. My back was to the house; the fight had gone on for almost a good hour, before they either came to an agreement (unlikely) or called a break. Lila and Cooper were with their dad in the field, feeding the cows, far away and in blessed ignorance of the tensions rising in their house.

Thor still hadn't returned from wherever he was, and I wondered what side in the argument he'd take. I liked Thor, but a part of me doubted he would be very sympathetic to two people who tried to kill him.

Light footsteps came up behind me, and I turned to see Howie approaching me. He gave a nervous smile and a tiny wave before signing hello, and asked if he could sit with me. Not about to be mean to a twelve-year-old on a farm full of angsty Avengers, I said yes.

Howie settled in the grass next to me, frowning at the beehives. Scooted back just a little, before turning to me. I kept my head canted just so I could keep him in my line of sight and could see when he started signing. Howie didn't have his gloves, although his glasses seemed to have been fixed since the last I saw him. He asked, "Why are you sitting next to the beehives? Aren't you scared they'll sting you?"

"No, bees don't scare me. As long as you leave them alone, they'll get along just fine," I said. "And I just like the sound they make."

Howie made a face at that, and I wondered if that was an insensitive thing to say. It was true, though. Maybe he just thought it strange. "So are they your favorite animal, then?"

I chuckled. "I guess you could say that."

Howie nodded sagely, like this explained everything. He had been there for part of the fighting inside the house, but he hadn't said anything. In fact, I realized Howie hadn't spoken much at all during breakfast, either. Was it because everyone had been speaking and not signing? Had he not known what we were talking about?

"How are you doing?" I asked, now feeling bad for not having engaged him earlier.

Howie shrugged. "I'm doing okay. The Bartons are really nice and Cooper has a bunk bed, so it's not too bad. I've never had to live in a house with other kids before."

I couldn't tell from his demeanor if that was a positive or not. "Good? Bad?"

"Mostly good," Howie decided. "I'm not usually lonely, except when they're out doing their chores on the farm. I tried to fix Barney's truck but I put the engine in backwards, and now I'm not allowed to fix things anymore."

I had to smother a snort. But then Howie's smile faded, and he continued, "I'm sorry about my dad. About what he said to you, about your friends.I think he's just scared."

Well, that much I had been able to figure out on my own. "I know. And you don't have to apologize for him. He meant what he said."

Howie didn't seem to like that answer, perhaps discomforted, but he didn't say anything, not right away. "Yeah, I guess."

"How have things been going between you and Tony, by the way?" I could only imagine how ULTRON managed to shake things up for them. I didn't imagine it to be a normal situation to begin with, but now this?

"It's been… okay," Howie hesitated with the last word, his expression not quite matching. "It's been distant, mostly. He's only here when the Avengers need to rest, and that's only once a week. Usually less. They have other safe houses but this one is the biggest. And the safest for me, they said. And when he is here, he's usually too busy repairing his suit or making plans with the Avengers." Then he tries to smile, a little more enthusiastic. "Barney and Laura are really nice, though, Barney knows sign language, and Laura a little. Lila and Cooper not so much, but they're learning. Kind of embarrassing."

"Why is it embarrassing?" I wondered what it was like, to feel more welcomed in a stranger's family than by your own dad. Of course, Barney and Laura had parenting experience. This wasn't their first rodeo.

"I don't know, just feels like…" Howie thought over his words. "They've done a lot of me, and they keep doing it. It's just so nice, and I feel like I'm not doing enough for them back. That's why I wanted to help fix the tractor. But they said I don't have to do that. That I can still be a kid, whatever that means."

I wasn't expecting the cynicism and frowned. "You're twelve, Howie. What else should you be doing?"

"I don't know." Howie's hands rested in his lap for a long minute. "It's just — ever since I got back from — from Sicily, it's been different. I've been different. I feel different. Like — I can't sleep sometimes. And I get restless and scared for no reason, and it makes me feel stupid because then I can't do anything. And I hate not doing anything. I don't have any of my blueprints here, and I don't like that Tony and the rest are all fighting and doing something important, while I'm just sitting back. It's like I'm on vacation while the world around me is dying."

I just stared at Howie, stunned. A lot of what he said resonated with me; the inactivity, the helplessness. I wasn't egging to be an Avenger but I didn't want to sit on my ass either. "Have you talked with anyone about what happened in Sicily?"

Howie shook his head. "No. It's too hard right now. The only person I really want to tell is Mama, but she… well, she's far away. Tony says she's okay in the hospital she's in, that they can still take care of her even with everything that's happening. But I miss her. I just want to see her again."

My heart clenched at that, the ache of missing a mother. I couldn't get mine back, but Howie's still lived. "You said she was sick last time?"

"Yeah, lung cancer," Howie nodded sullenly, looking at the ground as he signed. "She used to smoke but quit when she had me. I guess it wasn't enough. She was already in the hospital when I was kidnapped. I didn't see her again for three months."

"What happened?"

"I thought they were mafia," Howie said, spelling it out. "They were Italian, at least their leader was. Strange lady in a mask. She smoked too but she couldn't quit. Very mad about it. She wanted me to remake some of Tony's weapons. She knew I was his son, and she knew I was smart, so…" he shrugged again. "And I understood some of it. Explosives aren't very difficult once you know the basics. But I couldn't build what she wanted me to build. I didn't want to. So I got out. Used the material they gave me for their weapons and built my own bomb. It worked, too."

He seemed proud of that, smiling even as he continued, "It worked perfectly. Blew up their cars and half the building. I think… I think I might have killed a few, but Tony says not to think about that. It was big enough that it blew out my ear drums. I still dream of it a lot."

I bet. "You must have been terrified."

"A little," Howie admitted. "Mostly I was angry at myself. The bomb was on a timer, I should've put it on a trigger instead. Blow it up when I was far enough away, and not have to worry about getting away on time. But I guess I'll just have to remember that for next time."

"You think there'll be a next time?" On the one hand, awful. On the other hand, if my personal experience was anything to go by, then Howie was wise to consider the future as dangerous.

I honestly felt bad, assuming Howie was just a naive boy too excited for everything before. Learning he became deaf in his own escape attempt of a traumatic captivity put a new light on him I hadn't seen before. Hell knows I would've done the same thing had I been in his shoes, with his capabilities. He wasn't that much younger than I was when I'd been taken. That left a sick feeling in my gut that I didn't want to linger on.

"Maybe. Tony says there won't be." Howie said, his expression strained. Doubting that statement. "He says he can protect me. That's what the Avengers do. I don't know how, though, when he's always off somewhere else. I just wished he stopped pushing me to the side. I just want to be helpful."

"I'm sure you'll get your chance," I said, not believing it for a second. If Howie helped in any way, it was highly unlikely to be in a combat situation. At least, that's how I imagined it. "How do you want to help?"

"I'm good at building things," Howie said. "Reverse engineering is pretty easy if I have all the parts. I just want to help with his suit, you know? He thinks I just want one of my own, which I don't. I mean, I do, but not as a weapon! Just one that can fly. Maybe go to space. I always wanted to go to the Moon."

I had to laugh a little. I could see why Tony would still have some reservations. "That's it, just flying?"

"Yeah!" Howie grinned, and it was so pure and boyish that I knew he wasn't lying. "Can you imagine, soaring above the Earth, going anywhere you want, go so high you can see the curve of the planet — Leonardo Da Vinci's ornithopter was almost perfect, but he didn't have twenty-first-century technology. So I made it work, flew it into the Vatican, almost got arrested, and then Mama grounded me forever. But I won't give up!"

He seemed pleased by my laughter, jumping up to his feet with his enthusiasm. "I've seen the crop dusters they have here. Barney doesn't have one, but one of the neighbors do. I'm hoping if they let me, I can fly one."

"I think you might be a little small to fly a plane," I had to say, even though it was cute thinking of Howie in the little pilot's seat of those little planes.

"Maybe," Howie conceded with a heavy sigh, shoulders drooping. "I also need flight training. And experience."

"I'm sure you'll get plenty when this is all over."

"I hope so," Howie flopped back down, frowning up at me. "How did you get so beat up? Are you fighting ULTRON, too?"

He reached out to pluck at the yellow jacket I was still wearing. It was covered in dirt and had a few rips, and some blood that was probably my own. "No, not directly. I got into a disagreement with some friends. Hoping to work it out with them later."

"Oh," Howie probably didn't understand the euphemism I used. Then he perked up, "Can I fix it?"

"Fix what, the jacket?"

"Yeah," He flushed a little, shy. "I know a little about textile manufacturing, I could make it good as new. Maybe even with improvements."

I looked back down at the jacket, then shrugged it off. I liked it, I decided, it was still holding together after the fight with the twins. Maybe I'd grown attached. And really, Howie looked like he really needed something to do, needed to feel helpful, and one little jacket wasn't going to hurt anything. He grinned as I handed it to him. "Awesome! You won't regret it, I promise."

And before I could say anything, he was already running off to God knows where. I just smiled to myself and went back to the bees.

~ o ~

The day passed without incident, although there were still barbed looks passed between Steve and Tony. I stayed outside, felt it was safer, and I never really got to be on a farm before. Barney was happy to show me the cows and the horses, let me feed the chickens. His goats nibbled on the hem of my jacket, and they all liked to be pet, which was amazing. I never got to be on a farm before, at least not so close to the animals. The last time I came close was a petting zoo in fifth grade where I was on a tank of oxygen, and all the animal hair and heavy smells threatened to activate my asthma.

I could definitely appreciate wanting to live out here, though, all the wide open space, the clean air, the peace and quiet.

Lunch came and went, and there was still more work to do. While Tony and Steve chopped firewood, I helped with loading bales of hay onto a tractor wagon, hoisting them up easily and throwing them up to Barney, who struggled to do the same. The hay was pale and dry and crackled beneath my hands, the smell of it everywhere — every so often I'd pull a strand from my hair or my clothes, although I was fairly covered with it now.

"You ever think about joining the circus?" He asked once when we were done, panting and sweating from the effort. Those hay bales definitely weren't small.

"No?" I said, frowning at him. Laura had given me a change of clothes, cut off jeans and a loose t-shirt, that didn't fit her anymore thanks to her pregnancy. It was a bit short on me, but at least it kept me cool in the summer heat. "Why?"

"Dunno, think you'd make for a great strongman act," Barney grinned, and I realized he was just messing with me when he started to flex his arms like Arnold Schwarzenegger. "Or strongwoman. Stronggirl? You'd fit right in with the carnies."

I wasn't sure what to make of that, aside from awkward laughter. I had the cursed thought that a younger me would make for a great attraction, the Sickest Girl In the World, and living in a sterile bubble where people could gawk at me from a safe distance. "You seem to know a lot about circuses."

"Hell yeah I do," Barney laughed as he locked the gate on the wagon, before climbing up into the tractor to start it. It guttered once before rolling over and starting. Black smoke puffed from it's exhaust, and Barney eased it forward, while I sat on top of the bales. My first hayride. "I grew up in a circus, me and Clint both. Ran away after our parents died and boom, they took us right in. You can guess what our acts were."

"You're both archers?" I asked, surprised. I somehow had the feeling that was just Hawkeye's thing, but maybe it was something than ran in the family.

"Bingo," Barney had to raise his voice to be heard over the rumbling tractor, driving it slowly over a trail towards the barn. "I prefer the term sharpshooter myself. Clint was always the better one between us. The circus we worked for was, uh, into some illegal business and we were dumb kids with no choice but to follow along. By the time we finally got caught, we were good. Really good. The police gave us a choice. Go to jail, or join the army. So we joined the army. Clint got picked up by SHIELD sometime then. And I joined the FBI after I served my time."

"I didn't know circuses could still do that," I said, taking in the story. Imagining Clint as a circus kid. All the dark details Barney just glanced over like it was nothing, almost like a funny story.

"They don't, not anymore," Barney shook his head. "Probably because of people like us ruining the fun. No, they're too regulated now, but I'm sure that doesn't stop some of them from committing crimes. Just in a different way. And to be honest, probably for the best. We didn't exactly have an easy childhood, even before our parents died."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Now I felt bad for prying.

"Hey, don't worry about it, it was years ago," Barney waved a thick, calloused hand. "Way before you were born. We've both moved on, became different people. Grew up, basically. I got my family and Clint found his, and we're happy. That's really all any of us can hope for."

The tractor came to a stop outside the barn doors, the rumbling and rocking coming to an end as Barney turned off the engine. He hopped out and gestured for me to come down. "Thanks for the help, by the way. You'd think with all these superheroes, we wouldn't need a couple extra farmhands, but here we are." He glanced at the sky, turning dusky as the sun started to set. "Why don't you head inside, I'm sure Laura and the gang got dinner almost ready."

In the growing evening, the house looked warm and inviting, with lights shining from its windows and the smell of cooking wafting on the air. There were voices, conversation inside, and it sounded pleasant, almost happy. Maybe the Avengers had resolved their earlier argument. At the very least, they didn't seem to be having one right now.

The screen door creaked loudly, announcing my entry. I hadn't seen Howie since this morning, and from what I could tell, Natasha had remained inside to recuperate, keeping the kids company with Clint. I had no idea what Bruce Banner had been up to, but he was here as well. Tony was throwing darts (and not doing so well) while Steve helped Laura set up the table with Lila and Cooper. Thor was still nowhere to be seen.

I didn't see the new guest until he cleared his throat.

Nick Fury was in the living room.

Director Nick Fury, of the now defunct SHIELD, a man who I watched die in Steve's DC apartment — a man my father had been sent to kill — whose blood I had to wash from my own hands — was lounging on the Barton couch, alive and breathing.

I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw him.

He looked at me and sighed. "Someone didn't get the memo, did she?"

"No, a lot of people didn't," Tony cut in, and I could still feel tension in the air, everyone quiet and uncomfortable from the last argument. "Steve apparently kept it to himself."

"Because I asked him to, Stark, stop whining," Fury said, then pointed at me, then to a chair. "You, sit. You're a part of this now, too."

I felt completely discombobulated, utterly shocked, and the only thing I could think while taking a seat at the table, was that I owed MJ twenty bucks.

"Where's Boy Wonder?" Fury asked to the room at large, having his own paper plate on the couch. There wasn't enough room left for him at the table, but the space between the two rooms was open, so voices and conversation carried easily. "He should be here, too. I think this conversation pertains to him too, even if Stark says otherwise."

"He's upstairs," Laura was the one to reply, sitting down opposite me at the table. "Busy on a project."

As if on cue, Howie came bounding down the steps, sketchbook tucked under one arm. He had to set it down, reluctantly, to eat at the table, and only gave Fury a passing glance, not recognizing him. To Clint and I, he signed, asking who the eye-patch man was. While Clint answered, whatever conversation the group was already having resumed.

"So where were we?" Fury asked, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

Natasha was ready with an answer, her voice still hoarse from the previous day's events. "Tracking. Multiplying. Launch codes."

Tony threw a dart and hit below right of center on the target, hanging from a support beam making up part of the kitchen wall. "He's still going after those?"

"Yes, he is." Fury replied, taking a sip of his beer. "But he's not making any headway."

Tony seemed disbelieving. "I cracked the Pentagon's firewall in high school on a dare."

"Well, I contacted our friends at the Nexus about that."

"Nexus?" Steve asked.

"It's the world internet hub in Oslo." Banner answered. I had heard of it before, mostly because it was something Ned and Peter were obsessed with (and MJ thought was the center of a conspiracy). "Every byte of data flows through there. Fastest access on Earth."

I ate as I listened, chewing on steak and roasted potatoes and fresh green beans. So far, this was all new information for me. ULTRON, going for missiles? That definitely changed the tone on the whole "safety for humanity" thing. And yet, he didn't have them, despite all odds. The Avengers discussed the quandary, how someone in Oslo was apparently holding the last line of defense in ULTRON's pursuit for weapons of mass destruction. Through it all, Clint and I took turns eating and translating what everyone was saying to Howie, so he could keep up.

Barney would eventually return in the middle of the conversation, not saying anything although having quite the face journey when he heard the current topic. He just came around to kiss Laura atop the head and check in on the kids, before sitting down to finish his own dinner, the last to eat among the group.

Throughout, Lila and Cooper seemed entirely oblivious, or perhaps they were used to discussions like these happening over their heads. Lila was currently drawing something at the table, which she later showed Nat with pride.

"Well, this is good times, boss," Natasha smiled at the picture, but it faded slightly as she addressed Fury again, sighing. "but I was kinda hoping when I saw you, you'd have more than that."

Fury blinked, surprised. "I do. I have you."

No one said anything, just looked at Fury. He seemed to realize that the mood in the room was decidedly hopeless.

"Back in the day, I had eyes everywhere," So he stood up, wincing slightly as if from an old wound. Maybe one not that old. "Ears, everywhere else. You kids had all the tech you could dream of. Here we all are, back on earth with nothing but our wit and our will to save the world. ULTRON says the Avengers are the only thing between him and his mission. And whether or not he admits it, his mission is global destruction. All this, laid in a grave."

The warm house, the smell of food and home, the kids idly playing in the background.

"So stand." Fury said. "Outwit the platinum bastard."

The room was silent for a moment, everyone taking this in. I had never met Fury before this point (or, well, the last time he wasn't conscious, so that didn't count), but I could see now the man that someone like Clint or Natasha would follow anywhere. The man who had the brains to help create the Avengers to begin with. The part of SHIELD that hadn't been corrupted by HYDRA and still survived.

The moment came to an end when Clint said, "Swear jar."

He pointed to a large glass jar on the kitchen counter, singles and fives and the rare Benjamin lining the interior. It had been filled considerably since we first arrived this morning. Lila giggled in the corner.

Fury cut Hawkeye a look, earning only a shrug in return. "So what does he want?"

"To become better." Steve said. Having finished his meal, he came to lean against the wall separating the two rooms. "Better than us. He keeps building bodies."

"Person bodies." Tony spoke up, frowning to himself. Like it was a conundrum he hadn't considered before. "The human form is inefficient. Biologically speaking, we're outmoded. But he keeps coming back to it."

"When you two programmed him to protect the human race," Natasha said, looking at him and Dr. Banner. "You amazingly failed."

"They don't need to be protected," Dr. Banner murmured, and everyone turned to look at him in surprise, the room falling quiet once more so everyone could hear what he was saying. "They need to evolve. ULTRON's going to evolve."

"How?" Fury scowled.

Dr. Banner looked up from his plate, brow furrowing as he glanced at the other Avengers in the room. "Has anyone been in contact with Helen Cho?"

"Who?" I asked, at the same time the others hemmed and hawed, only Natasha giving a definite shake of her head.

"Dr. Helen Cho," Bruce Banner explained, his tone serious. "World-renowned geneticist from Seoul, and leader of the U-Gin Research Group. She was helping us when we were hunting down HYDRA bases, and had been developing this revolutionary tool she called the Regeneration Cradle. It could repair skin and organ tissue that had been damaged by fire or acid or any number of injuries — it saved Clint's life."

Clint stood and lifted the hem of his shirt, just to show the spot on his side where he had been injured. There was not even a scar, just a patch of skin that was slightly shinier than the rest. "I'd honestly be goner if it weren't for her."

"You think ULTRON would be interested in the Cradle?" Natasha asked.

"Of course he would be," Tony answered before Bruce could. "He's building bodies, remember? And the Cradle, with all its possible uses, could be made to do that. Could be, I don't know, reprogrammed to work with any sort of material, not just human tissue."

"What?" Fury cast Tony with a piercing look. "Like Vibranium?"

"L-like, yeah, like Vibranium," Tony stammered, nodding as if just now realizing the implication. His face had gone two shades paler. His next words were a mere whisper, "God, what have I done?"

"So what does that mean for you guys?" Barney asked, waving his fork around at them. "This Nexus mumbo-jumbo, a doctor in Seoul, and some crazy Russian twins trying to kill you?"

"Sokovian," I corrected in a mutter.

Barney glanced at me before repeating, "Sokovian, right, them."

"That's the big question, isn't it?" Fury said, folding his arms. "Which is why there's six of you and not just one. Five, I guess, since Thor's fucked off to god knows where. I don't usually offer advice to a bunch of grown adults, but I do recommend you splitting up. And keep Stark as far away from those twins as possible."

"Oslo it is, then," Tony said, looking tired. "Not like my suit is gonna be in fighting shape after Wakanda any time soon."

"Speaking of twins," Fury said, turning his eye on me. "I'd like to ask our resident Mutant expert here on how best to handle them."

Every eye turned on me then, and I froze. Not just stage-fright, but realizing what Fury was actually asking me. "Wait, you mean how to fight them?" And when I got that long stare back that confirmed such a thing, my gut clenched. "I'm not going to help you kill them."

"Disable, then," Fury redefined, although it seemed it didn't concern him either way how it went. "Whether we like it or not, the Maximoff twins would very much like to see Stark and Company in a grave, and that puts us at a disadvantage, since we have someone very concerned for their well-being involved in this mess. Normally, I'd be interested in recruiting them if they weren't so homicidal."

It would be a cold day in hell if that were to happen, I thought. Which didn't help my confidence in dealing with this opposition I was facing. Everyone looked back to me, waiting for my answer. I looked to Steve automatically, and his face revealed nothing, but he gave the slight tilt of his head. The go-ahead to say what I will.

"You won't get them to trust you," I said, my voice hard, words carefully chosen. "They don't trust anyone, and they don't trust ULTRON. He's compelling them with the staff, like a leash. But they remembered me, back in Wakanda, they didn't know I was there. Wanda attacked me on accident and she fixed it as soon as she was able — she wouldn't have done that if she didn't know who I was. I think ULTRON's hold on them is loosening. I can still help with that."

I desperately, desperately didn't want to be left behind here when the Avengers next took off. I didn't want them to deal with the twins alone — it would be like using a sledgehammer when you needed a scalpel. And in any other case, I'd make for an awful scalpel, but in this I knew with all my heart that I had to be there, I had to be the one to help. If I didn't, people would get hurt. People would die.

I also did not care for any arguments any of the Avengers might have against this. "I know they haven't done anything to earn your favor, and kids or not they're not afraid of killing. They've done it before and they'll probably do it again. I'm not going to apologize or excuse it, but I will say that they're just trying to do what they think is right. For whatever that's worth."

"Hmm," was all Fury said, his hands slipping into his pant pockets. "Interesting. Obviously, for ethical reasons I can't condone sending a minor into a dangerous situation, but I'm sure all of you are aware that I'm not necessarily known for my strong ethical background. For pragmatic reasons, though… well, I guess the decision is up to the team. What you think is worth the risk. If you want to give those kids a third chance."

The Avengers all shared looks. To me, Steve said, "I guess I can't convince you to back out of it, huh?"

I shook my head, and he only gave me a wry smile. "Well, that would've made our decision a little easier. I'm willing to give it another shot."

"May I remind you that her aunt will have your hide?" Natasha pointed out, cocking an eyebrow. "Your head on a pike?"

"Or, you know," Bruce lifted a hand. "Every ethics committee that ever existed when they find out we used a teenager. I cannot in good conscience condone this."

"If she's the only person keeping those kids from skinning me alive," Tony said, pointing to me. "Then I'm okay with it. Call me selfish all you want. Besides, we're perfectly capable of protecting her identity whenever the press gets back to work, so they technically never have to find out. People already know Rebel Columbia is a person that exists, they still don't know who she is or how old. We just keep using her code name and say she's over eighteen — and I know she can pass for it, what with that illegal driving last year."

Steve blinked. "The illegal what?"

Clint looked equally surprised, but for a different reason. "Well, that's rather thoughtful of you."

"Thank you, I'm so glad someone noticed."

"Thor isn't here to vote," Natasha added, "But I think he'd probably be all for it. She's probably already an adult by Asgardian standards."

"This is such a bad idea," Dr. Banner said, his voice muffled as his head fell into his hands.

I sat back, relieved, when it was settled. I could go, even if it probably meant I wasn't going to get that good night's sleep I was hoping for (and probably needed).

Something about this conversation must have been inspiring, because Howie perked up. He raised his hand to call attention, and Clint translated when he asked, "What about me? Can I go, too?"

It got a resounding, unanimous "No." including Laura and Barney. Howie wilted in disappointment.

"Sorry, kiddo," Barney said with a shake of his head, holding up his hand so it was slightly above Tony's head. "You have to be this tall to ride."

Tony swatted his hand away, scowling, "You're a riot, Barton. And the answer is no. If either your mother or Pepper find out I let that happen, they'll kill me before ULTRON can."

The levity didn't lift Howie's spirits, and when Tony realized that wasn't working, he sighed and came over, kneeling down to put a hand on his shoulder, a private moment. "I'm sorry, I know you want to help. You're helping me by staying here and giving me peace of mind, okay? And I'll pay you a hundred bucks to mess up Barton's tractor again."

Afterwards, we began cleaning the table and the kitchen, the kids sent to bed. But downstairs was still filled with activity, as the Avengers began devising a plan on who goes where and the travel logistics. Steve urged me to get a nap, while I still could. I gratefully accepted, and got to take a shower too (though cold, all the hot water had already been used), before flopping on the guest room bed, currently unoccupied.

And for a blissful few hours, I slept. Not a single dream.