Bruce poured himself a cup of a coffee and leaned against the kitchen island, making notes on the equations he had spread across several sheets of paper. The common room was empty. It'd been that way for the past few weeks. Steve had moved out, so Sam wasn't coming round anymore. Thor technically still had clothes at the tower but mostly Bruce thought he was staying somewhere with Jane. Bruce might be wrong but he suspected Thor just couldn't deal with the Avengers' issues after the recent loss of both mother and brother. Bruce supposed he couldn't really blame him. That was a lot for anyone. Nat was another one who was technically still living in the tower. And he did see her occasionally. But she'd thrown herself very determinedly into work. Ninety percent of the time she was off on a mission for Fury.

The tower was, all things considered, a far cry from how it had been not that long ago. Even when Steve was at his apartment he'd come by every now and then. They all would. The tower had felt like a place of safety, of home.

Right now, it just felt empty.

Tony of course was still here. But Bruce hadn't seen him since the ill-fated intervention. Bruce assumed he came out of his lab, between Jarvis and Pepper he was sure someone was making certain he got regular meals and sleep and actually saw the great outdoors once in a while, but Bruce hadn't actually seen it with his own eyes.

He sighed. And for the dozenth time, wondered if he shouldn't be moving on like the rest of them. And yet…he was very reluctant to do so. Tony might not trust him, and yet Tony had trusted him. When they'd first fought Loki, Tony had put a level of faith in him that had staggered Bruce, and everyone else for that matter. Tony had taught Bruce how to live life not constantly on the run, not constantly on the edge of something darker and grimmer. It felt good. Bruce missed how comfortable the tower used to feel, he missed spending time in the lab with Tony, he missed….he missed the Avengers.

If Tony hadn't been nearly nonstop on his thoughts for the past month, he'd have been surprised at the timing of the elevator doors opening and Tony stepping into the common room. As it was, his surprise was purely at the man's presence.

"Hey."

Tony smiled. "Hey yourself. Long time no see." He crossed to the fridge and grabbed a seltzer water. "What are you working on?" he asked, nodding at the papers.

"Uh, just trying to crack that corrosion issue we ran into. Running various different materials, but most of them come out too heavy or too unstable."

Tony stepped forward and glanced over it. He tapped one page. "That could work."

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking. It's the best bet I could come up with."

"Well why don't you come down and we try it out? You haven't been to the lab in ages. I was thinking you'd forgotten the way. That or had, you know, discovered the Jacuzzi."

"Actually," said Bruce, plunging into honesty, "wasn't sure I'd be welcomed."

Tony shrugged. "Course you are. I said you had lab space, I'm not going to take it away. Besides, Dummy misses you."

Bruce chuckled.

Tony crossed his arms, his shoulders set, and his expression firm. "Look Bruce, what I said that night…it still stands. But the people I can't trust anymore: you're not one of them."

Bruce blinked in surprise. "I-, Tony I-"

Tony waved him to stop. "Bruce, I am so way past my yearly allowance for heartfelt conversations. So can we just grab your papers and skip to the makeup science?"

With a chuckle Bruce stood, picked up his coffee and work, and nodded. "Let's go."

It wasn't the Avengers back. But it was the next best thing.

Clint parked in front of the farmhouse. It was easier coming back this time than the last. But his gut still twisted a little. He still didn't feel right in the head. His throats still rolled around, scraping and snapping at him.

He wasn't done. Not by a long shot. But he had always had rules about how often he'd come home, and he was going to stick to them now too. Especially now when he owed Laura so damn more than he could ever give her.

Since leaving, he'd taken down twenty-five Hydra outposts, and killed or captured fifteen high-ranking Hydra officers who had been on the run. He'd hoped it would bring some peace, but it had only served to make his thoughts more muddled.

"Are you okay?" Natasha had looked at him, across the table in concern. He'd known she'd been studying him for the past five minutes as he ate his breakfast. He'd known the question was coming.

"I'm fine."

"It's okay to not be fine. Clint, you know that I know what it feels like to have your mind messed with, your own brain turned against you. And Loki used magic. Like I said before, that's something we weren't ever, could never, be trained for. And that includes psychologically."

Clint had stared down into his coffee. "It doesn't help to talk about it. Those men are dead. I did it. And I have to go to Jameson's funeral today and look his widow in the eye and give her my condolences."

"I know." He could hear the 'and?', even if she didn't say it.

He glanced up at her. She was waiting, patiently, willing to hear anything he had to say, willing and happy to be there for him, just like he'd been there for her. "I keep thinking I have this sorted and then it's like another flash of memory, another awful thing I did, surfaces in my brain, and I have to go through the whole mental process again or processing, accepting, moving on…"

She nodded. "Yes. But you'll get through it all. Eventually you will. You just have to keep treading water for as long as you can."

"And hope I don't drown?"

"You won't," she smiled. "I'll make sure of that."

The elevator doors slid open at that point and Tony and Steve had entered, chatting, Tony ribbing Steve. Nat and Clint had immediately slipped into a casual conversation.

Drowning, that's what he felt like he was doing now…he closed his eyes and struggled to push that feeling back. Wishing Nat was here, missing her like the devil.

Getting out of the car, he slammed the door shut and started up the stairs to the house. The front door swung open and Laura stood in the doorway, an amused gleam in her eye. She kissed him before she said anything and hugged him. He took a deep breath, taking her in, taking in the feel of her in his arms. Suddenly insanely grateful for this woman, who he didn't deserve, who stood by him through so much.

"How are the kids?" he murmured.

"They're great." She pulled a little away, just enough to look him in the face. She was searching, reading the lines there, studying the strain and tension. What she saw didn't please her. That much was obvious, but she shook her head, and the amused gleam returned. "Well he was right."

"Who was?"

"Fury. He's waiting out in the barn for you."

"What?" Clint stared at her, danger sirens blaring in his head.

"Yes, he said you'd be back home right on schedule and he was right. He arrived about two hours ago. I said he could wait in the living room but he said he had work to do."

"What does he want?"

Laura raised an eyebrow. "He didn't say, but I doubt if he was here to arrest you, he'd have given me a chance to warn you. Frankly I think that's the only reason he came to the front door at all. To reassure. And he was very polite."

Clint felt skeptical. "Well, I'd better see what he wants."

The walk to the barn had never felt this long before. Clint wished he could have taken his bow, but meeting Nick Fury armed was probably not the best idea, and he did think Laura was right. If Fury wanted to kill him, he wouldn't have come knocking on the front door. Fair play wasn't big with him. And more importantly, he wouldn't do it at the farm. Natasha had said Clint would be safe at the farm and nowhere else, and Clint didn't doubt that Fury agreed with that sentiment. The farm was sacred in a way. It had to be. Fury had given him this corner to be secure and safe, and Fury wouldn't take it back.

Entering the barn, Clint almost had to laugh as he spotted Fury, sitting so casually at a small side table, pouring over some paperwork. Anyone watching the scene wouldn't have imagined the betrayal that lay between the two men.

Fury glanced up. "I see Laura let you know I was here."

"Yeah, she mentioned it." Clint came deeper into the barn and leaning against one of the beams, crossed his arms and studied Fury. "What do you want?"

Fury shut the folder he'd been working on and stood up. Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out a photograph and dropped it onto the table, facing Clint.

Loki's scepter. There was a shifting of unease in his gut that Clint tried to ignore.

"The scepter? What about it?"

"We've been looking for it."

Clint frowned. "You lost it?"

"If you'll recall, after the Battle of New York, the Avengers handed it over to STRIKE team," said Fury, sternly.

"Ah." A wave of shame washed over him that he refused to show. "Well I have no idea where it wound up. Sorry I can't be more help."

"Actually I was hoping you could be more help."

"I'm telling you the truth. I don't blame you if you don't believe it. But I truly have no idea where the scepter ended up. Pierce didn't trust me after New York. You can't make me tell you what I don't know."

Fury's eyebrow rose at the last sentence but otherwise ignored it. "I didn't think you did know where it was. But I thought you might be able to find it. You must have contacts, that is if you haven't killed them all already." Clint started in surprise but Fury only rolled his eye. "Bow and arrow was a giveaway, particularly when used to clean up Hydra agents."

"You haven't stopped me." It was a half question.

"Of course not. You're saving me a lot of time and bother. Plus, it's good to know I wasn't wrong: I always thought I was a good judge of character. And now I know I wasn't wrong about you."

Clint's hands dropped to his side. That's a point up for debate, he thought, but he couldn't bring himself to say it. He couldn't expose to Fury the raw wounds that had lacerated his brain. He didn't know what Fury would say if he did, and he wasn't sure which response would be worse: confirmation or absolution.

Fury watched him for a little, and Clint wondered what he saw. Then Fury tapped on the photograph. "So will you do it?"

"Find out where the scepter is?"

"And retrieve it, if possible."

Clint was surprised. He hadn't imagined that. "Isn't that something the Avengers should do?"

"The Avengers aren't exactly battle fit at the moment."

"What's that mean?" asked Clint, concerned. "Are they okay?"

"Physically? Yes. Emotionally?" Fury shook his head. "Let's just say you did a number on them. I believe the only two currently living in the tower are Stark and Banner. Roger's moved back to Washington. Romanoff keeps making me give her missions. If I refused I'm pretty sure she'd go rogue. Thor's in Scandinavia with Dr. Foster." He must have noticed something in the expression on Clint's face because he said, his tone almost reassuring, "They'll work it out. And it's not all about you. James Barnes is an issue between Rogers and Stark. And was always going to be. And if it hadn't been that it would be something else. Those two are very different men. Their goals might be the same but their methods aren't. I always knew there'd be friction sooner or later. The team can figure this out…or it can't. But I don't doubt that if the earth is ever in real peril again, they will pull together to save it. But in the meantime I don't think they're ready to work together to retrieve the scepter."

"And you'd really trust me to do it?"

"Like I said: I always thought I was a good judge of character. I thought I was wrong…I don't think that now."