If someone ever bothered to ask Clint, he'd tell them that saving the world was, in fact, pretty damn awesome. It was all the shit that came after that was the problem.

He'd gone in treating it like any other mission he and Natasha had ever been on. Go in, kill the target, go home, write report, and go to bed. So yeah, it hadn't exactly gone like that this time, but in the end he'd still had to write the report and the sun was still shining and no evil overlords were in sight, so he counted it as a win. And if there'd been a moment when he and Tasha had looked at each other and known that they probably weren't coming out again. That this was it. The show was over; the curtain coming down on their grand finale of blood and pain; no encore, just rest. Well, they didn't really talk about it.

But in that moment, with their hands clasped tightly together, with her nails biting into his skin leaving crescents of red in their wake, he thought that if his heart hadn't already been so wrapped up in Phil, that he might've loved her. Not in the way he already did, but loved her in that deep all consuming way that ended in kids and a mortgage and a dog, and definitely not aliens. But the moment had passed, because the curtain was falling, but their act wasn't over and the show must go on— and then they'd lived.

They'd been left standing in the ruins of New York City surrounded by destruction and death, shrouded in a sudden cloying silence. And they'd laughed. Their eyes had met over a flaming police cruiser, the smell of gasoline pungent in their noses and they'd started laughing, ignoring how Bruce Banner was eyeing them like they were insane, or how Captain America was glaring and lecturing them on there being a 'time and a place', and they'd just laughed. Laughed until they had to lean on another so they wouldn't fall, because if they fell down then they wouldn't be getting back up.

They'd laughed over the alien guts on Natasha's boots and the smears of black blood all over his arms and face. They'd laughed about the jagged cuts that still welled with bright red and their aching muscles that throbbed in agony. They'd laughed and laughed until Phil had come and tucked them away into one of the few undestroyed cars, and then they'd laughed some more. It'd earned them hours of psych evals, but what did it matter? They'd just saved the world. The entire planet.

As a child Clint had often wondered what true happiness was, and he decided then that if it was real, this was it; elation. The feeling of knowing that your loved ones were safe; that they'd had your back; that you got to see them tomorrow.

It'd been amazing, but then the adrenaline had passed and as the population came out of shock, they'd had to deal with something they'd never even thought of: the media. They'd crawled like cockroaches out from under the rubble with cameras and microphones shouting questions and poking at wounds that hadn't even had time to heal over. They came from all over, interpreters on hand; from Japan, from Africa, from all over Europe. From everywhere. And while Stark basked in the attention, and Cap threw on a shy smile, Thor loved the attention, and no one bothered Bruce out of fear, Natasha and Clint clung to their protective shadows for all they were worth.

They stayed away from the flashing cameras and avoided any press conferences so even if the world at large knew they existed; no one could claim that they'd ever gotten a good look. And wouldn't you know it? They ate it up.

Tabloids printed stories about them having been caught up in an accident resulting in terrible deformities, others said that it was rumoured Black Widow was a redhead which obviously meant that she was really Pepper Pots. War criminals, socialites, the president and first lady; they were someone new every morning and then someone else by the evening.

"Wouldn't it be easier if you just let them see you?" Cap asked over breakfast one morning and Natasha and Clint both glared as they picked at their fruit.

"No."

"It's a big adjustment," Phil said from his place on Clint's right side. None of the other Avengers had asked about what was going on between them and he had a feeling that whatever the hell was going on with Stark and Cap had something to do with it.

Whatever worries Clint had had about not being able to see much of Phil once their new office and living arrangements had been sorted out had quickly disappeared once everything had settled down after the Loki Incident. It turns out that as their babysitter, Phil had to spend quite a bit of time at the mansion with them. Not that Clint was complaining; it meant that he could sprawl out on his couch in Phil's new (much nicer) office and make a nuisance of himself while Phil pretended to be annoyed with him

"To go from operating on a top secret basis to being hounded by the press. Give them time."

Steve hesitated for a moment before nodding and going back to making pancakes. He knew Cap meant well- he always meant well. He was fucking Captain America— but he was glad to put an end to that conversation. Clint bumped his shoulder against Phil's and returned the smile that was sent in his direction.

He knew Coulson had an apartment to go back to; that he was only around because Clint had needed him to be there. And after days of planning, he figured today was it. They'd been dancing around each other for...well years now as Natasha had been so kind as to point out the other day. And Clint knew they'd basically been dating for a long while, but he sort of wanted to make it official because then Phil would he his and he was kind of really nervous even though it didn't really make sense and oh God, what if he said no and—

"My friends," Thor called as he came into the kitchen and Clint could see ripples forming in his water whenever he took a step. "I bid thee good morn."

"Morning Thor," everyone chimed in.

"Clinton," the huge Asgardian called and seriously? Even his own mother had called him Clint. "Would you have a friendly bout with me on this beautiful day?"

"Ooohh," he drawled, clutching his head because a bout with Thor? Yeah, ow. "Sorry buddy, I've got plans with Phil today," he said on the fly, trying to look regretful. "Maybe Cap would be—?

Steve was subtly shaking his head, his shoulders stiff as he loaded his pancakes onto a plate. You knew it was bad when even Captain America wouldn't offer to take your place.

"I think we can postpone," Phil said blandly as he went to take a sip of his coffee. "You go have a friendly bout."

Thor perked up like a dog who'd just heard the magical word that was walk and before Clint could protest or call Phil a traitor he was being lifted from his chair and carried out of the room—Thor still hadn't grasped the whole personal boundaries thing; SHIELD was working on it.

"Come my friend, it shall be glorious," Thor assured him as everyone watched on with 'I'm glad that's not me' smiles on their faces.

Clint vaguely wondered when this had become his life.

Phil had noticed how skittish Clint had been over the last few days, and while at first he'd blamed the new team and the pressure of the media, he'd come to realize that Clint was scheming something. He couldn't say what, but some hope had manifested in his heart and since then he'd been waiting.

Moving into the mansion might've been the best thing they'd ever done for their relationship. With all the guest rooms Phil wound up staying over most nights after working late and every morning he'd wake up to Clint sitting at the island in the kitchen with a cup of coffee and a bowl of fruit. It was basically like living together but with training wheels.

So far the Initiative was an undeniable success although some team dynamics still had to work themselves out. Everyone's fears over Tony and Clint meeting had been unjustified- but only because Phil had hauled Clint away and Steve had grabbed Tony before they could start throwing punches. But lately they seemed to be bonding over a shared love of some show on Disney about two brothers on summer vacation. Without fail, at three o'clock every afternoon they'd be sitting on the couch together and generally wound up watching it on demand until they both fell asleep. Fury had dubbed it Nap Time.

Bruce got along well enough with everyone, but he'd clicked the most with Natasha. They both enjoyed getting up at the crack of dawn to do yoga and had quickly bonded over that and through her he'd gotten to know Clint- who also grudgingly joined them for yoga every morning. Natasha had been making him do it for three years now and old habits die hard.

Thor had no issues bonding with anyone after he talked them into either having a 'bout' or a drinking contest, Steve was, well Steve was Steve and no one couldn't like him. He and Tony had poked and prodded at one another for the first week but somewhere along the line the tension between them had taken on a more sexual nature and since then...well, Phil had stopped paying attention because he didn't need to know about their love lives. Leave it to Tony Stark to debauch a national icon.

It was supposed to be a secret so as to help the population ease into the idea that their hometown, apple pie, thank you ma'am, hero was in fact not only gay, but in a relationship with arguably American's most infamous man. Naturally, that meant the entire world knew about it. Fury hadn't been pleased.

("Have you ever had to deal with Oprah before?"

"I'm sorry sir?"

"Oprah. Have you ever had to deal with Oprah?"

"Uh, no, sir. I can't say I have."

"Well, I can now say I've had the abject pleasure, seeing as the woman has been calling me all day! She wants Rogers on a special to discuss him 'budding relationship'," Fury growled through the phone line.

"May I ask how she got your number?"

"It's Oprah, Coulson. That woman has ways and connections the likes of which you and I can only dream of."

"I don't know sir, it might be good PR to have Steve appear," he reasoned, tapping his pen against the pile of paperwork set in front of him.

"Have you ever watched Oprah?" the Director asked him flatly. "She will emotionally gut him in front of a live studio audience and display his innards on internationally broadcast television.")

But overall, the Avengers were gaining more and more momentum as a team and SHIELD was doing better than ever with the government pouring in funding and the Helicarrier proving to be a major success, not that Phil had spent much time on it himself. He'd needed to make sure everything with the team continued smoothly and he knew Clint hadn't been comfortable moving into close quarters with complete strangers so he'd figured another familiar face would help.

The archer had put up a cocky front for his new teammates but Phil had read the unease in the set of his shoulders and the way he'd only picked at his food most days in the beginning. He'd never been sure if Brandt had shared the problem or if it had something to do with those crucial weeks in Medical after they'd first transferred him from the IMF, but whenever Clint got anxious or stressed he had to watch what and how much he ate or it'd all come back up an hour later. Sometimes even out of the blue his stomach wouldn't be able to handle certain foods. It'd only taken a week of them all living under the same roof for a list to be taped to the fridge of things he couldn't have so that whoever was making dinner that night could consult it.

Phil had reasoned that it was sort of like owning a rare breed of dog- you couldn't just feed it anything. The only problem was Clint was in fact just like a dog, and would eat just about anything if it was put in front of him when he was hungry.

(Clint was kneeling on the floor, his shoulders flexing while he heaved into the toilet as Phil sat on the lip of the tub behind him, running a soothing hand over his back. With one last cough Clint sat back, his head settling on Phil's knee as he groaned.

"I feel better now."

If he hadn't sounded so pathetic or looked so small curled up on the floor Phil might've said I told you so, but instead he just ran a hand through Clint's hair that'd been flattened against his skull with sweat.

"You know you can't eat meatloaf."

"It was the first dinner Cap's made for us," Clint muttered tiredly, looking worn out and ready for bed despite it being only six-thirty. "I didn't want to hurt his feelings."

"I think he'd be a lot more upset if he knew you'd made yourself sick," Phil said softly.

Clint only hummed in answer, pale eyelids fluttering as he tried to shift into a more comfortable position on the floor.)

Phil watched trying to hide his smile behind his coffee cup as Clint was carried away with a pout firmly upon his face.

"Nice," Natasha scoffed. "Way to throw him under a bus you two."

Steve had the decency to look guilty as he picked at his pancakes, but Phil just smirked.

"Thor is just...a little much," the Captain admitted as he twirled his fork. "Especially this early in the morning."

Natasha rolled her eyes as she picked up Clint's abandoned watermelon. "Oh Captain my Captain."

"Clint will be fine," Phil assured him.

"Unless Thor steps on him," Natasha muttered innocently before biting into the piece of fruit she'd been examining.

"Stop."

"I'm not the one who just abandoned my boyfriend to—

"You two are together?" Steve asked curiously, a smile finally making its way back into his face.

"No."

"Not yet," Natasha sing songed and easily ducked the chunk of cantaloupe he tossed at her.

"Captain Rogers," JARVIS said suddenly. "There seems to a situation downtown. Reports are coming in of large unidentifiable creatures climbing out from the sewers."

Steven gently pushed aside his pancakes, no longer hungry. "Alright, call everyone would you?"

In a few weeks Phil would look back on that morning and wish that they'd never gotten that call. It'd all been inevitable really, but he wouldn't be able to help but wish that Clint had gotten the chance to ask him out before everything fell apart. He would've liked to have kissed him...just once.

Ethan hadn't exactly been following the story of the Avengers, but like every other person on the planet he was aware of them. He'd seen the news coverage and the front page stories and he'd watched a few interviews of Captain America here and there because, come on, it was Captain America. But he still didn't quite understand why the entire world seemed to be going crazy over new footage someone had managed to capture during one of their battles.

"It's because no one's ever really seem them," Benji explained, eyes glued to the screen. "People have been going crazy trying to figure out what they look like."

"People just want to know if they're hot," Jane chuckled as she settled on the couch beside them.

"Well yeah, that too."

The news anchor was going over the battle in New York, but a bright red ribbon of text along the bottom of the screen was still proclaiming about breaking footage they'd gotten from an anonymous source.

"In related news," the woman continued, shuffling her papers the way they always did. "We have received exclusive footage from an anonymous source today which contains the first look at the elusive Avengers: Black Widow and Hawkeye. Before now, both had remained unseen by the public at large and rumours over their identities have been speculated by bloggers, journalists, and politicians alike. Let's take a look."

The footage was shaky in a way that indicated it'd been taken on a cell phone, but it was clear enough that they could easily make out the two Avengers perched on a roof overlooking the ongoing battle.

"Well that's bullocks," Benji growled disappointedly. "You can't even make out their faces."

The camera lowered to face the ground as whoever was holding it started running.

"Well at least we know she's really a redhead," Jane said. "Although who knows if that's even natural."

The two men rolled their eyes as they continued watching. The camera came up again, zooming in to rest on Hawkeye who was now alone on the roof, taking aim at something off screen. This time his features were clearly visible and Ethan stared at the television screen, his eyes wide as his brain struggled to process what he was seeing. It took him a moment, for where'd he'd seen those features to click. His heart stuttered in his chest, the sound loud in his ears as his lungs struggled to regain the air that seemed to have been knocked out of them.

It-it was Will. His Will.

Before he realized what he was doing he was kneeling in front of the television trying to get a better look. He could make out Will's eyes and face, even if his shoulders had become broader since the last time he'd seen him. His build might've changed a little, but it was still undeniably Will.

He turned to look at Benji and Jane, both of whom were watching the screen closely as well.

Jane seemed to know what he was thinking and started cautiously saying, "Ethan...it could be anyone. The footage is shaky, he's far off. Up close it could be nothing but a passing resemblance."

Ethan turned back to the broadcast and watched as Will took a running leap off the roof he'd occupied only to be caught midair by Iron Man.

"No way that's Brandt," Benji joked weakly, shaking his head. "He could barely jump down that shaft without having a bloody aneurism."

"He knew Iron Man would catch him."

"He knew I would catch him," the Brit sniffed. "And he still had a conniption."

"Your track record on the mission wasn't exactly stellar," Jane pointed out. "And it was the first time he'd ever met you. I would've had some reservations as well. But, Ethan," she continued softly. "Think about it. Will is gone. We all wish it wasn't true, but it is. We know you miss him, but that man isn't him. He might look like him a bit, but he's not our Will."

"Did you see him die?" Hunt shot back angrily, getting to his feet.

"You know none of us—

"Then we can't be sure," he said, clinging to the hope- the chance that Will was out there. All along he'd been out there. Just waiting to be found. Waiting to be brought back home where he belonged.

"This wouldn't be the first time the IMF has lied about the status of one of their agents."

"He could be undercover," Benji piped up, earning a glare from Jane. "Deep cover within SHIELD."

Ethan nodded, his eyes bright. "Yes."

"But why fake his death? Or disavow him?" Jane protested, watching as the rest of her team set to work. "If he was just undercover they wouldn't have bothered."

"Benji," Ethan barked out as he grabbed his own laptop off the coffee table. "Check the IMF database and see what's going on."

The redhead nodded and Jane huffed in annoyance as she was basically ignored, but even she couldn't deny the spark of hope in a part of her heart she'd thought she'd buried along with everything to do with Will.

"Um...guys?"

Jane and Ethan both turned to find Benji looking annoyed and more than a little bit confused.

"There's uh...no file on Brandt. And no sign that there's ever been one."

"Could Will not be his real name?" Jane hazarded a guess as she set down the bottle of water she'd been nursing as she re-watched the footage on YouTube.

"Why would he have changed his name?"

"Some do," she shrugged. "The IMF used to encourage it, but I've only ever met older agents who actually did it. The regulations were changed eventually."

"Do you know when exactly?"

"They changed around when I was recruited," Ethan said, looking up from his work. "The offer was made to change it, but they told me it was completely optional and being phased out."

"Well, no offence to you, but you're quite a bit older than Will. He wouldn't have been recruited until awhile after the regulations changed," Jane pointed out.

"With his memory he could've been recruited quite young," Benji argued.

"It could have been for personal reasons," Ethan sighed, tiredly running a hand over his face. "He wasn't one to talk about his childhood, but what I got was that it wasn't exactly happy and it ended with him and his brother being on the outs."

Benji was still clicking away on his laptop, surrounded by wires and half empty mugs of tea that he'd had room service fetch for him as he said, "Well, doesn't really matter if it was by his own personal request, or if the IMF encouraged him at this point. Either way, his permanent file will be under his real name. And unless we know it...This could take a very long while."

"But wouldn't he have a file under Hawkeye with SHEILD?" Jane asked. "Couldn't you just hack in and find it?"

Benji paled at her words and the almost continuous clicking of his mouse and clack of his fingers on the keys stopped. The room seemed strangely quiet without it.

"You- You want me to hack into a system designed by Tony bloody Stark?" He asked incredulously, voice strangely reverent.

"If that's what it takes," Ethan said, his eyebrow quirked as he stared over at his oddly still teammate.

"He is our God."

Jane snorted. "Whose God?"

"Us," Benji practically yelped. "Techies. I know some people who pray to him before they start a project."

Jane shared a glance with Ethan, whose eyebrows had disappeared into his hairline.

"I once attended a lecture of his...and he was brilliant. Completely and utterly pissed, but brilliant. I'd never seen a man drink that much vodka and still be able to discuss—

"Alright," Ethan laughed in way they hadn't heard in years. "We get it. He's your God. Can you do it?"

Benji thought for a moment, his thumb tapping against the table. "I'd have to say, probably not."

Ethan gave him a disbelieving look.

"What? This is Tony Stark we're talking about here! He's been programming since he was a child. And while I'll admit I am indeed brilliant by most people's standards, I'm not Tony Stark brilliant."

Ethan hummed as he thought. "I know someone who might be able to give you a hand."

"Oh no, Hunt!" Luther yelled, shaking his head furiously on the video feed. "The last time you asked me to do you a favour I almost got my ass blown to kingdom come!"

"That was purely coincidental," Ethan smiled at the screen.

"It's happened every single time I've ever laid eyes on you!"

"Well, this time it's a simple enough job. You can do it wirelessly. And don't even try to play coy. You had a blast."

"What's in it for me?"

"My eternal gratitude?" he asked hopefully.

Luther stared at him with narrowed eyes. "Yeah, that's not going to cut it. You know how the IMF pays. If I'm doing a side job for you, it'd better be worth my while."

"I have a line on some software you could be interested in. Military grade of course." That was a complete lie; but fake it til you make it and all that jazz.

"Alright, say let's just say that I'm interested," the other agent said, leaning back in his chair to grab a glass of water he'd set aside. "What exactly is this about?"

"I need you to help a member of my team hack into SHIELD's database." Timing had always been a skill of his which meant that Luther choked on his water and managed to spill most of it down his shirt.

"Are- Are you kidding me?!"

"Do I look like I'm kidding to you?" he asked, face straight. "I wouldn't be asking if I wasn't desperate."

"This is Stark tech we're talking about," Luther said, shaking his head as he set down his glass. "One doesn't simply hack into anything designed by Tony Stark. He's practically the God of—

"Yeah, yeah, I've been hearing this all day. You guys pray to him apparently."

"Damn right we do. And now he's got that crazy ass battle suit with tank missiles and the blasters and— This is crazy! I'm too old for this. Hell,you're too old for this!"

"Luther,please. I'm really— This is personal," he said finally. "I'm actually begging you right now to help me. Please."

Luther was quiet for a moment, obviously thinking things over before he let out a long sigh. "Fine. But only because the great Ethan Hunt is begging. Anyone else and I'd be sending them packing."

"Thank you," Ethan said, pouring all his relief and his gratitude into those two words.

"Now, grab your tech guy so we can get to work."

It took Benji and Luther the better part of a week, hundreds of conference calls and endless hours of Skyping, but eventually they managed to hack into SHIELD's agent database and retrieve the file of one Code Name: Hawkeye.

"What's it say?" Ethan called, quickly coming in from the kitchen of the house that he'd been renting since the apartment.

"It's an interesting read," Benji admitted as he scrolled down. "Clint Barton ring any bells?"

Ethan shook his head as Jane came down the stairs, towelling her hair dry.

"What'd you find out?" she asked, folding the towel and setting it aside as she took a seat beside him on the couch.

"Well, going by the picture, it's definitely Will. Or his twin. Clint Francis Barton, code name: Hawkeye. Parents deceased, has a brother named Barney who's former FBI turned rogue under the alias of Trick Shot, current location unknown."

"That would explain the name change," Jane said disbelievingly. "I'd want to stay clear of him too."

"They both joined the circus when they were fourteen, and they must've gone off the grid because there's nothing in here about him until enlists at twenty," Benji continued. "Long service record, a lot of commendations. And I mean a lot. Was a Navy Seal before he was recruited by the CIA for their Special Activities Division. The rest of his service record is redacted until six years ago when he was recruited by SHIELD. Was designated to their London base until three years ago when he was reassigned stateside and partnered with codename Black Widow. They've got a long list of assassinations and covert operations under their belt. Both were put up for consideration for the Avengers Initiative and were included in the roster one year ago."

"But that's not possible," Ethan said. "He'd been with IMF for six years. He told me so himself."

"Obviously the information has been tampered with," Benji conceded with a shrug. "Which means someone is trying to hide the fact that Will- Clint- whoever, is ex-IMF."

"Anything else useful in there?"

Benji sighed as he hit the basic physical profile section. "Not really. Height, weight, um...nothing really...oh."

"What?" Ethan asked, leaning in to get a look.

"There's a report from their Medical division. Apparently, there was an accident three years ago resulting in a traumatic brain injury. There's pages worth of information," the Brit breathed anxiously. "Retrograde Amnesia, personality changes, trouble with impulse control, and episodes of paranoia, and severe anxiety as well as seizures."

Ethan practically collapsed into the nearest armchair looking tired, but so, so relieved.

"It's him," he breathed, head in his hands. "It's really him."

"After what happened in London they must've transferred him to SHIELD," Jane said. "Whatever state he'd been in, they didn't want him anymore. But apparently someone else did."

"They only ever saw him as an analyst," Ethan spat, resentment beginning to build in his chest, boiling away the flood of relief. "With that sort of trauma he'd never be able to remember all the information they needed from him. So those bastards got rid of him."

"So he doesn't remember us, that's why he didn't come looking for us once he was better," Benji said as he saved a copy of the file and pressed print to make a hardcopy just in case.

"They lied to us. All of us!" Ethan growled, lurching out of his seat. "Benji, get online and book us tickets to New York."

"But Ethan," Jane protested. "We can't just barge in and—

"Watch me," he snarled as he began gathering up his things. "I've wasted three years of my life thinking he was dead! I won't sit around when I know he's still out there! Don't...don't ask me to do that," he said, looking pained.

"We're going to New York and we're finding him. That's our new mission."