'Like constellations imploding in the night
Everything is turning, everything is turning
The shapes that you drew may change beneath a different light
And everything you thought you knew
Will fall apart, but you'll be all right.'

"Constellations" ~ The Oh Hellos

~OL~

The tense silence was pierced by a chorus of groans. Lila threw down her cards.

"That'll be thirty-three for me." Laura remained prim as ever and neatly lined up her massive stack of cards. "How many do you have, dear?"

"Nine," Clint grumbled.

"You're the lowest score this round. Hand it over, Mr. Barton."

"Seriously?" Cooper demanded. "How do you even get a thirty-three score in Taboo?"

"Skill," said Laura, totally deadpan, right over top of Lila's, "Cheating."

Clint snickered and slid across his pile of peppermint patties and Reece's Pieces Cups to Laura's side of the table. Nathaniel snuck Clint one of his mini Kit-Kat bars out of pity.

Lila considered her mother's epic stash. "On the plus side, if one of us manages to beat her at this game, the jackpot is huge."

"If we haven't achieved that in two years," said Clint, "I doubt we'll be able to now."

"Not twue!" Nate held up his finger. "I beat Mom last Christmas."

Cooper and Clint met each other's eyes. None of them had the heart to tell him Laura let Nate win, just so he wouldn't feel left out. Nate seldom won games. They handed him a victory now and then to keep his spirits bolstered.

"That's right." Cooper knuckled his baby brother's shoulder. "There's hope yet."

Lila sighed in appropriate dramatic fashion. "I rue the day Uncle Happy bought us this game."

"He's dead to me," Clint agreed.

Laura smiled with that selective hearing of winners everywhere. "Anybody up for another round?"

Louder groans this time. Cooper waved his napkin as a white flag and Lila's head flopped onto her arms.

"Buncha sore losers and chickens, is what you are." Laura retrieved a board game from the shelf. Clint leaned back, arms folded, and enjoyed the sight of his family relaxed and—mostly—happy. Family game night made Thursdays his favourite night of the week. "Since we're not feeling Taboo, how about Ticket to Ride?"

Cooper inclined his head. "Now there's some hope. I love that game."

"Speak for yourself," Lila groused. "Unless it's a card game or poker, I'm hopeless."

"I'll play you for all of your Snickers."

"Oh you're on, Coop—"

Suddenly Nate gasped, drawing their eyes to his corner of the table. He bounced in his booster seat. "Chickens!"

Clint steadied the chair with a hand on the back rung. "What about them, sweetheart?"

"Their water feeder is empty!"

"Didn't you say you'd fill it over lunch?"

Nate nodded, eyes stricken. "I forgot!"

"That's okay." Clint patted the boy's chest. "I'll just pop out and make sure the ladies are well watered."

"No!" Nate scrambled down from his chair with a little help from Clint. "I wanna."

"Well…" Clint glanced out the window to see a few pink strips of daylight left in the dusk. "You can, but I'm coming with you."

"You're not allowed to help, Daddy. I can do it by mysewf."

Clint smiled down at Nate, especially since he declared this while simultaneously grabbing Clint's hand. "Fair enough, but I'll walk you to the gate. You guys alright to play without us for a bit?"

"Oh yeah." Lila flashed him a peace sign. "I'll just be here having a grand old time losing. RIP to me."

Laura tapped her daughter's nose, which resulted in a swatting match around their giggles. Clint held back a coo. Barely.

"You have fun with that, bug. Just remember—no stealing my stash."

Lila waited until Clint was out of the kitchen to yell back. "No promises!"

"Just for that, we're not doing a darts rematch tonight."

Lila's mangled cry kept the smile on Clint's face. Nate hopped into his rubber boots, no laces practice required, and once they got their light coats on, they were off to the races. With early April's warmer weather, they could even keep their coats unzipped if they wanted. Luckily Nate didn't think to, squeaking along in his yellow wellies.

"Sorry I forgot, Dad."

Clint scooped Nate up onto his hip. "It's no problem at all, love. Everyone forgets things sometimes, right? The important point is that you remembered and told somebody."

"I just feel bad that Nelly and Tina might go firsty."

Clint hid a grin at the lisp. "Oh? Not Pippa too?"

"She's still being a bully."

"Aaahhh. We saw the water level when we collected eggs this morning. It had a bit left."

"It was kinda dirty though."

"Yeah." Clint thought back to the galvanized water feeder. "I suppose it was. We'll wash it on the weekend together."

"Okay!"

Clint plopped Nate back on his feet once they reached the coop gate. The hens greeted Nate like an old friend, with clucks and canted heads and feathered wings brushed against his leg. They pecked at Clint's feet sometimes but Nate had never had so much as a squawk aimed in his direction.

"I'll get the hose ready, Dr. Doolittle."

Nate laughed and retrieved the water feeder off its hanger. Clint turned on the faucet against the side of the house while Nate held it under the stream.

"Water's cold."

"Yeah, it is." Clint watched his son level the feeder opening with the water stream and thought he might burst. "You're doing such a good job caring for the chickens, kiddo. You listen to what they need really well."

The apples of Nate's cheeks rosied and Clint kissed one before shutting off the tap. Nate screwed the water cap back on with maximum concentration, then attached it to the base.

"Alright, you return that water dispenser before it gets dark and we'll—"

THUNK.

They both whirled. Clint threw out an arm in front of his son. Both stood still, listening, but no more noises sounded from the barn.

"What was that?" Nate whispered.

Clint's first thought was an intruder, that an old enemy found him here and looked in the wrong place upon hearing their voices. He mentally inventoried all the guns and knives he had hidden around the property—the closest being a hunting knife taped under the flower box beside them.

Then it hit Clint. Pete. Maybe he took me up on the offer of a roof over his head after all.

"I'm gonna check it out, Nate. But you go back to the coop and hang that up. Sound good?"

"Okay, Dad!" Happy as a clam and totally oblivious to the darker turn this situation could take, Nate scampered off. As it should be.

Clint made sure Nate had ducked into the hen house, out of sight, before heading to the barn doors—which put him in between his son and any potential danger. Hopefully it was just Pete bedding down for the night.

"Pete?" he called softly, pushing open the side door. It didn't creak, well oiled for occasions just like this, where stealth might be needed. "You in here? It's just me."

Clint pulled a flashlight off the magnetic wall bar and flicked it on.

Right in time to hear a furious hiss. Two green eyes flash in the dark, a tapetum lucidum effect that gave away the unwanted guest in all his furry glory. A black and white ringed tail scurried past.

"You again!" Clint dashed towards the raccoon. "Shoo! Shoo, I say. This is not your new home, no matter how much you want it to be. Get lost, Randy, or next time I'll set a kill trap."

Randy's real stroke of luck was that Natasha wasn't here to throw knives at him anymore. That had been memorable. The raccoon shimmied under a loose board in the barn wall and ran off into the twilight, spitting and yowling the whole way. Churlish little bastard.

"Gotta nail down that board." Clint leaned back on the door. "I can't believe I was almost done in by a heart attack courtesy of a raccoon. That's the cringiest thing to put on a death certificate."

Laura would get a kick out of this one later tonight, in their evening ritual sharing the day's highlights and low points.

Clint headed back to the chicken pen. "Hey, Nate. Looks like Randy's back for round five this month. The guts on this critter. I found him scuttling around by the tractor…"

A cluster of hens bawked in throaty alto bwwwrsss at Clint's appearance, uneasy sounds, where they huddled by the ajar gate. Clint quickly snapped it shut. The water hung exactly where it was supposed to be, hay straightened, heat lamp on—but no Nate.

"Nate?" Clint craned around and strained his eyes. He saw farther than most people, but not far enough tonight. "Nate, buddy, you still out here?"

The tympani in Clint's chest ratcheted up to a presto tempo. He spun faster, running to the barn for a full sweep, then the wood shed. Nothing.

"Nate?" Clint cupped his hands around his mouth. "Nathaniel!"

He panted after he yelled it and tried to listen over his heartbeat. Not a peep but the crickets. A sob ripped through his chest, a violent, paper in the wind sound.

"No. No, no, no, no, no, no—Nathaniel Pietro Barton, you answer me right now!"

Clint's eyes throbbed with a backlog of tears in his sprint to the porch. Laura met him there, eyes wide and scared at his expression. She tried to reach out only to meet empty air, Clint moving too fast for her to reach.

"Honey, what's wrong? Why are you shouting?"

"Nate. Has he come inside since I've been out here?"

Laura glanced at Cooper hovering over her shoulder. "No, you're the first person to come up the steps since you both left. I figured he was still with you."

"Are you sure?" Clint barged past Laura for the entryway. He held out his arms to either side as if he could tackle Nate's absence like a quarterback. "I left him to get rid of Randy and now he's gone."

"Gone?" Laura went white. "Did he run off?"

"I don't know. I left him for maybe three minutes and now he's just…gone." Clint muttered under his breath and bless Lila, she ran upstairs to search the rooms at once. She yelled Nate's name while slamming open doors and Clint did the same with the first floor. Cooper checked under all their furniture in case the boy was just playing, with hide and seek his favourite family game.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. What if it had all been a diversion to get to Clint or his family? What if someone grabbed their boy in the chaos, in the one moment he wasn't with someone?

Stupid move, Clint. This might have all been one giant distraction to lure you away. You've lived through this exact thing because you didn't keep your eye on the ball the first time. All it took was one minute with your back turned and they vanished.

Somewhere in the back of Clint's mind, it rang like a punishment. Thanos had mocked them for moments like this, not cherishing what they were given, assuming all the good things would be here from one day to the next. Everything in the room trembled or maybe it was just him.

"Clint, baby, look at me." Laura grabbed Clint by the shoulders when he started upending couch cushions. "Clint. We're going to find him. Alright? He probably just got chasing lightning bugs in the grass somewhere and didn't hear you."

"I can't believe I took my eyes off him, Lo." Clint didn't break down in crises but he sure as hell wasn't immune to panic. Not with this. His breaths wheezed through his nose. "I know better. I know better."

"It's our coop, Clint. We've let him play there by himself hundreds of times and nothing's happened. He's usually safe with the chickens so there's was no reason for you to suspect anything different this time."

"That doesn't make it better," Clint growled.

You lost your child, you lost your child, you lost your child again—

Laura lowered her voice when Lila bounded down the stairs towards them. Laura captured Clint's chin in a firm grip. "Clint Barton, this is not even remotely like last time. Nathaniel is alive and whole somewhere and we are going to find him. No dust. Say it."

Clint swallowed. "No dust."

"You hearing me?"

"Loud and clear," said Clint, but he didn't even feel attached to his own body right now, so he wasn't sure that counted for a lot.

"Good. Now, have any of the sensors gone off?"

"He's under ninety pounds."

Laura's face fell. "Oh. I hadn't thought of that."

Clint whipped the phone out of his pocket to check anyway, sensor alarms on silent since Pete tripped them at least three times a day going to the bathroom or roaming to the tree house. For the first time, Clint saw the weakness in that design. Maybe Tony's assessment of his security system during Ultron had been correct and he should have gone with heat sensors or trail cams instead. How was he supposed to tell a real intruder from Pete?

However, the sensors had been tripped no less than five times in the last two minutes. Tripped fast.

Someone was running.

"This doesn't make any sense." Clint scrolled back on the sensor log. "It says whoever tripped the alarm was near sector two a minute ago…then veers to the left towards eight…but now he's standing still."

"Maybe Nate tripped them after all, in his speed. He's lost, trying to find the house or a landmark."

Unlikely. Not even a kindergartener with his little legs pumped up on adrenaline could run that fast.

Or he's being pursued by someone into the trees. Clint's heart seized for a different reason, the thought of Pete all alone and unaware of the threat to his son right now. Visions of them both abducted or shot whited out his hearing for a beat.

"Breathe, Clint. Breathe."

He inhaled via sheer will power, shivering.

"Help us make a plan," Laura pressed.

Plan. Clint could do search party plans in his sleep. He pointed to Cooper. "You okay to come with me? If you promise not to go beyond the treeline?"

Cooper nodded, paler than Laura.

"Awesome. Go grab the biggest flashlight you can find and meet me on the porch."

Cooper ran off even before he finished speaking.

"Lila." Clint turned to her. "You're going to wait here in case Nate comes back on his own before we get to him."

"What? No!" Lila's mouth turned down. "I want to help look!"

Clint glanced at Laura.

She nodded. "If he comes back to the house before you guys do, he'll be terrified to find it empty. I can wait behind. You guys go. I'll keep my phone close."

"Thank you, babe." Clint kissed Laura soundly and led the other two to the coat closet. He pocketed a gun hidden in the freezer along the way, wincing at its cold through his under shirt. "Bundle up and then we'll make a grid radius."

"What's a grid radius?" asked Lila. She had to jog to keep up with Cooper and Clint in their march out to the field. They fumbled to zipper their coats on the move.

"A fancy way of saying a human net, basically. I can only track him if he gets close to…" Clint and Cooper exchanged a look. "Anyway, he's a fast monkey, so I want us all to call for him. Both of you will stay within sight at all times so I can defend you if this turns out to be an ugly sort of situation or I'm sending you back, right now. Are we clear?"

Lila nodded. "Crystal."

"He'll come," said Cooper. "Even when we go shopping at the mall, he doesn't like to be separated very far. Can hear his name clear across the arcade."

Clint suddenly understood how fortunate he was that none of his kids were runners, so unmindful about their surroundings they'd take off without thinking. He'd have gone gray long ago if that was the case.

"Nate?" Lila started first once they got to the treeline. "Nate-man, where are you?"

Cooper joined her and Clint checked his phone every few minutes, noting the lack of sensor data all of a sudden. Like nothing in the forest was moving. The mental ticker kept up a recriminating count, accurate almost to the second after years on the job.

Missing for over twenty minutes now. The first hour is crucial and if we can't find him by then, the statistical chances are…that he's…

"Nate?" Clint didn't mean for his voice to crack a bit in front of his kids, but they looked just as wrecked. "Nate, bud, no one's mad at you. We just need to know you're okay."

"Nate!" Cooper hollered. "Nate, it's Cooper!"

"Nathaniel," Clint tried again, hoping it would trigger that this is serious, answer me right now instinct in the boy.

"Nate!"

"Nathaniel, we're here. Just give a shout if you can hear me or you're stuck!"

"Nate!"

"Nate-man!"

Then, out of the blue—the sensors tracked something going in a straight line.

Slower than earlier but confident, the red blips appeared right in sync with a deer path leading from the creek to the house. Hard for a little boy to find in the pitch dark, but there was no mistaking the route. Clint had walked that same path hundreds of times.

He ran through the brush towards it, feeling that distinct tree knot under his feet that signalled the start of the path. "Nate! Nate, can you hear me?"

"Daddy!"

Clint folded clean in half, hands on his knees. He slipped his phone into his pocket when he saw the white wisp of Nate's face in the dark, so he could crouch and spread out his arms.

Nate barrelled around the corner and straight into Clint's chest, already blubbering. "Daddy, Daddy!"

Tina the chicken, held in his arms, squawked in protest at being squished between them.

Clint ignored her and kissed Nate's wet, snotty cheek for dear life. Cooper fell to his knees and hugged the boy from the other side, Lila with a hand each on Clint and Nate's heads. Clint's heart pounded against Tina's feathers.

"She ran off into the woods when I opened the gate an-an-and I couldn't just leave her, Dad! 'M sorry! I 'nin't mean to! I'm sorry!"

"Ssshhh, ssshhh." Clint rocked his baby and pressed endless kisses to his forehead. The counter in Clint's head stopped on twenty-seven minutes, the boy solid in his arms. No ash. No lifeless eyes. No losing family members today. "We're not angry with you. We're so glad you're okay. Are you hurt anywhere?"

Nate hiccupped, a full body jolt. "Yeah."

Clint held him at arm's length with a skipped heartbeat. "Where?"

"Fell an' scraped my hand."

The tearful whine declared it along with a bloody palm shoved in Clint's face. He treated it like a field injury, all serious brows, squinted examination, and declaration of made-up blood pressure stats in a routine all three of his kids loved growing up, so they could play spies and feel the wound properly addressed. Lila dug a linen headband out of her pocket to wrap around his hand for now.

Clint kissed the daisy fabric right over Nate's lifeline. "There. All better until we get home?"

Nate nodded and rubbed his eyes, once Cooper took the chicken off his hands. Blood on her cream feathers sent Clint's stomach into a barrel roll. Nate held 'uppy' arms and Clint gladly obliged. He swung the boy onto his hip for the second time in one evening, night truly fallen for good in ink black swatches around them. If it weren't for Lila and Cooper's flashlights—Lila took Clint's so she had one in each hand—even Clint wouldn't have been able to spot the way back.

This time, though, Nate clung to Clint's front, face buried in his neck. He made breathy, gurgly sounds against Clint's skin the entire walk back, patting Clint's cheek at points as if to make sure he was still there. His hands shook. Clint closed his eyes into that faint baby scent Nate hadn't quite lost yet, even under the strange smells little boys got into.

You didn't lose him. He's fine and not every disappearance ends in tragedy.

"It's alright, bub." Clint bounced Nate to calm the erratic breathing. Not to mention his own. "We've all had a really bad scare tonight but we're okay. Everything's okay now."

"Wanted to take care of my chickens."

"I know you did," Clint crooned. "And you were so loyal, going after Tina like that. Next time just come and get me and we'll find her together, okay?"

Nate nodded into his neck.

Tina brrrbrrbbrrred from Cooper's arms. He held her up so Nate could see the hen over Clint's shoulder. "I'm going to take her back to her nest. Say goodnight, Nate-man."

Nate took his hand off Clint's cheek and clammed it in a wave. "Night-night, Tina."

They climbed the porch steps in exhausted stomps, into the buttery, inviting light of the Barton homestead. Its lighthouse beam illuminated the dark sea of the forest.

Clint helped Lila store the flashlights and unzip Nate's coat, all without him ever leaving Clint's arms. The canary yellow boots came off last, and in the light of the foyer, the boy's tears glowed like magma on his red cheeks.

The sound of a toilet flushing and then Laura emerged from the bathroom. Her face broke into a sunlight smile. "Nathaniel, baby! There you are!"

Nate burst into fresh hysterics and fell into Laura's arms with a warbled mantra of "Mama! Mama!"

Clint left them to it in favour of setting up a pot on the stove for hot chocolate. Alone in the kitchen for a brief moment, Clint removed the Glock from its hidden tuck under his belt and shirt and reset the safety. Back it went into the locked case in the freezer, behind all the gross frozen yogurt flavours.

Cooper joined Clint once he came inside and washed his hands.

"You're on marshmallow duty," said Clint.

"Sir, yes, sir."

Cooper retrieved five fat mugs and plopped generous handfuls of mini marshmallows and chocolate chips into each one. Clint threw his expectation of reasonable bedtimes on a school night out the window without much remorse. This mattered more.

Still, it shocked him to look at the clock and see that it was barely half-past eight o'clock. It felt like a lifetime and Clint had to steady himself with a hand on the counter.

"…A chicken? All this because of a runaway chicken?"

Laura entered the kitchen with a calmer Nate in her arms. Lila walked along behind and finished bandaging his hand for real, shiny with antibiotic cream under the gauze.

"Uh-huh." Nate rubbed his face again with his good hand.

Clint ducked to see his eyes. "You want to get into your PJs for bed?"

"No," said Nate, rock solid.

Clint sent Laura a 'had to try' wink.

"Alright, then how does some hot cocoa sound?"

Nate perked up but didn't start cheering, a tell-tale sign of how much tonight scared him. "Wiv chocolate milk in it?"

Clint smiled. "As if there's any other kind."

Laura got them all settled on the couch, Nate bundled in between Clint and Laura. As he handed out mugs to Lila and Cooper, he kissed each of their heads.

"Thank you both for tonight. You stayed level headed and jumped to help."

"Of course." Lila's eyes were tired but relieved on Nate. "I don't like us all being apart."

Another telling sign. She'd picked up on Clint's depression and anxiety after the Blip more than Cooper or Nate and fed off that need to be close. The stress about leaving each other behind, even for simple tasks like sports tournaments or classes, overwhelmed her sometimes. Nate wasn't the only one who'd struggled with being parted for school days.

Cooper just nodded, less jarred than his siblings.

"Sorry for getting lost." Nate curled into Clint's side when he sat down.

Laura opened her mouth with a questioning look.

"I already gave him the lecture," said Clint. "And I think tonight was lesson enough about not going into the woods after dark. Hmm?"

Nate nodded wholeheartedly. They sipped in quiet for a while, their respective heartrates drifting back to normal levels. Clint spotted the board game abandoned on the table and was pleased the night still ended with them all within arm's reach of each other. Not a totally failed game night.

Laura wiped away the last of Nate's tears. "I'm proud of you for getting unlost, finding your way back. Those woods are weird at night."

"I didn't find my way back. Pete helped me when I sat down and cried by the creek, after I scraped my hand."

Laura and Clint stiffened. A ten-gallon barrel of frigid water splashed down Clint's back.

Lila chuckled into her cocoa. "Oh yeah? Pete, huh?"

"He sounds like a very nice imaginary friend," Cooper added, the two teens sharing an indulgent grin.

"He wasn't imaginary." Nate pouted. "He caught Tina and held my good hand. He even told me stories about what space is like until I stopped crying."

"I'm sure he did," Lila soothed.

Cooper reached over and patted Nate's knee. "Whatever helped you remember the way home, buddy."

"I didn't 'member!" Nate clenched his fists and spilled hot cocoa on his corduroy pants. "I didn't! Pete showed me the way back. He led me right up until I heard you call my name!"

"Mom, tell him—"

"He talked with his hands like Daddy!"

Everyone fell still. That wasn't a detail Nate could make up very easily, not with his limited sign language.

"I didn't know all the words but that's how I knew I could trust him," Nate finished, stalwart, a lawyer making his closing remarks. "That and he had a funny shirt."

Lila looked frightened again. "Dad, you can't let him keep believing a delusion."

"He's five," Cooper tried to reason. "It's normal for his age."

Clint sighed.

I'm sorry, Pete. This has gone on long enough.

He turned to Nate. "Which one was Pete wearing?"

Nate brightened at being taken seriously. "His shirt had a planet with sunglasses on. So funny, Dad."

"Did it say 'too hot to handle?' on it?"

"Yeah!"

Cooper and Lila stared at Clint with open mouths. Laura squeezed Clint's hand across Nate's lap, a silent agreement with his decision, and Clint wondered just when his life had become this strange, beautiful, scrappy circus of a spectacle. He wouldn't trade it for anything.

He leaned forward over his knees, still holding Laura's hand. "Guys, I know this feels like a lot right now, after the night we've had…but Pete is very real."

Cooper choked an incredulous sound. "Dad, you can't actually believe…"

"I don't have to believe Nate, though I do. I've been checking up on Pete for almost six weeks now."

A minute of utter quiet reigned over the room, the pause before a sniper bullet. Laura's hand tightened around Clint's.

Anger overtook Lila's face first. "So some random old guy has been stalking our woods for a month and you let him stay?"

Clint shook his head. "Not old. He's a teen, just a few months older than Cooper. I found him in a hammock way off in the trees, homeless. He refused any help but the food and some old clothes I brought him, and he's scared to pieces of Laura."

Another lull. Cooper stared hard at the rug and Lila gawped across at her parents, ears flushed.

Nate slurped his hot cocoa in satisfied contentment, resilient to a fault, the only sound for a while. In his mind, all was now right with the world and he'd made a new friend to boot.

On autopilot, Cooper brought his mug to his lips too. The sugar helped Clint as well, refocusing his brain from the emotional whiplash and its weals across his mind, shock and terror when he feared the worst about Nate mixed with remorse at having to tell the secret of Pete's presence, ending in relief. Pete had more people in his corner than ever, even if they weren't keen to be there right now.

"You knew too?" Lila turned to her mother. "Why didn't either of you tell us?"

Laura smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "You have to understand, Pete's incredibly traumatized. He'd…" She glanced down at Nate and edited her next words for innocent ears. "There were…bruises and broken bones. A lot of them. Inflicted by a person."

Cooper's breath halted.

"We didn't want to frighten him any more than he already was," Clint finished. "He could barely tolerate my presence at first, let alone your mom's. She only met him once."

"Once was enough for Pete," said Laura, wry with a longing undertone. Clint pumped her hand.

"The clothes."

Everyone looked to Cooper, at his first words in almost fifteen minutes.

He blinked fast at Clint and pointed with his Chewbacca mug. "That night I found you throwing away old clothes and putting some in the washer…those were Pete's."

Clint nodded.

"His stuff was awful, Dad."

"Yeah…" Clint had to put down his mug on the coffee table when his hands trembled a smidge. "It kills your mom and I, to leave him out there on nights it rains. But he refuses to leave the woods or come close to the house. Other than to rescue wayward arrows."

He smiled at Lila. This, of all things, loosened the tight muscles around her mouth. She relaxed back into the recliner.

"He found my arrow?"

"Yup. And you know how I mentioned I found a tutor to check over Cooper's calculus homework?"

Cooper's brows flew up. "That's him? Whoa. He must be smart."

"Understatement. He fixed my hearing aid too and didn't even break a sweat."

Suspicion clouded Lila's eyes again. "Is this your 'project in the woods' Nate told me about?"

Clint mock glared down at Nate. "Traitor."

Nate giggled.

"No," said Laura. "Your father really is working on something special for you guys, unrelated to Pete, a surprise for when school ends, so no peeking."

Clint held each of his children's eyes for a beat. "Pete is absolutely petrified of new people and not very strong yet, so I'm making a rule—no snooping in the forest to find him. We're giving him space for now. Alright?"

"Yes, Dad," said Cooper at once. Lila just nodded.

Nate frowned about it, but nodded too once Clint thumbed his hair. "I can't go play wiv him?"

"No, buddy, I'm sorry. Pete's doing well enough to get up and eat right now. Bombarding him would likely scare him off the property for good and then we'd never see him again."

Funny, that even saying this hypothetical out loud shredded Clint's chest as much as Nate's disappearance. The thought of Pete wandering out in the wide world alone, Clint blind to where he was or what he might be suffering, clogged his throat. He had to swallow back the panic for something that hadn't even happened.

"Okay." Nate leaned harder against Clint. "You should give him a stuffy though."

"Why's that?"

"A friend. For when you can't be there." Nate forced his eyes open, looking surprised to have closed them. He signed 'Dad,' a toddlerhood, kneejerk motion. "He can have Trike to cuddle."

Clint huffed a helpless sound, dripping with love. He hiked Nate up onto his lap and pressed a kiss to his ear. "That's such a sweet idea, Nate. I love you."

"Love you too, Dad."

Cooper leaned back on the loveseat, eyes closed, spent in ways that Clint could relate to. Lila still scowled at the carpet.

Clint waited until Nate's breaths evened out against his breastbone. "Bug? You going to be okay with this?"

Lila shrugged and tucked her feet up under her, just like Pete had that morning in the fledgeling tree house. "It's a lot to take in at once, I guess."

"We understand that." Laura came over and perched on the arm of the recliner, stroking through Lila's bangs. "And we're not asking you to do or change anything. Just keep living your life and respect Pete's privacy, that's all. You can talk to us about how you feel anytime."

"Okay. That sounds fair." Lila played with the end of her ponytail. "I don't…is it safe to go to sleep in the house?"

Laura and Clint threw each other matching dismayed looks.

"Of course it is, baby." Laura palmed their daughter's face. "The last place Pete wants to be is anywhere near this house. He's got a kind heart."

"Besides," said Clint. "He's a gangly, stunted boy who probably weighs a hundred pounds soaking wet. I think you could give him a run for his money."

Lila dredged up a thin smile.

Clint stood with Nate still in his arms. "Laura and I have been jokingly calling Pete a community service project and, well, that's kinda what our help for him is. Think of it as me putting in volunteer hours to give back."

Something about that didn't sit right anymore, but Clint ignored the flutter in his stomach.

It worked, though, and Lila unwound fully for the first time all night. She flopped back with an eye on her two sleeping brothers. "They're not too fazed by this bombshell, huh?"

Clint cupped the back of Nate's head like when he was a baby, to keep it from rolling as he walked around to throw a blanket over Cooper. "Nate made a friend and Cooper is used to sweaty, injured people or superheroes showing up unannounced—Nat and other SHIELD agents did that constantly when you were just out of diapers, you probably don't remember as much—so this is little league by comparison."

Lila gazed up at her father. "Pete's really all alone?"

"An orphan," Clint whispered, voice thick. "Not a soul to help him."

Lila's eyes shifted out the window, as if she had X-ray vision to see through the trees to this mysterious boy who made her father sound like that.

"Maybe," she finally said.

~OL~

Clint took his time locking up that night, never once putting Nate down. It took especially long because Lila lingered brushing her teeth, then getting a glass of water, and finally he turned from securing the alarm system to see her fidgeting by the stairs. Laura stood behind her, leaning on the banister.

"What's up, pumpkin?"

Lila headed straight for Clint's free arm. He held it open and tucked her against his side, her long hair brushed and floating freely around Nate.

"Love you, Dad. Sorry for yelling at you guys earlier."

Clint closed his eyes into her strawberry shampoo scent. Two of his most precious gifts, right there in his arms. How could anyone ever complain about this or take kids who trusted them for granted?

"You have nothing to say sorry for, Lila." Clint gave her a squeeze. "This is big and scary to process. I get it. You've actually handled this with great maturity, both of you."

"I just feel weird inside."

"We're here to help you figure it out."

Laura spoke, low, from up the stairs. "A good night's sleep will help with that, trust me."

Lila stepped back, sheepish. "Probably. Night, Dad. Night, Mom."

"Love you." Laura pecked her cheek on the way by. "Don't forget to change your sheets tomorrow."

"I've got it, just like the last time you reminded me!"

Lila managed to have the last word as she called it from up in her room. Laura shook her head. "She gets all that attitude from you, you know."

"No way. I heard about the senior year escapades from your sister. Your parents tell a very different story too, Miss I-lived-in-detention-for-three-months-straight."

Laura rolled her eyes but didn't deny it. She rubbed Nate's back. Wordless in their dance, they made it to Nate's room and removed his socks and sweater together, shimmying on some dinosaur PJs and tucking him under the quilted comforter. Clint watched their boy sleep, Laura on the other side of the bed. Other than the bandaged hand, they'd never have known the drama Nate had lived through in the last two hours.

Clint told Laura about it in strangled tones, sotto voce with remembered fear. Laura just held his hand. Watching the sensor data suddenly shut off, his borderline panic attack, the blood on Tina's feathers from the scraped hand.

"Pete saved his life." Clint shook his head. "I can't get over how selfless this kid is. Nate's caterwauling probably woke him up and yet he still took time to comfort my son and walk him home. Not to mention catching Tina. A Herculean feat in broad daylight, let alone at night."

Laura smiled. "Pete's special. We both know it. Now it's just time he understood that for himself and had confidence in it. I'll make him some quiche tomorrow to say thank you."

Clint suddenly realized why he didn't feel whole himself, why sleeping had been an extra challenge these past few weeks. "I wish he would trust us back."

"He does…"

"Then why won't he come to the house? I want him in a real bed, Lo. Under a real roof."

Laura adjusted the blanket around Nate's chin. "You said he's scared he'll hurt us. Feels guilty about someone's death."

Clint nodded.

"Maybe this is his way of being selfless. Of giving back for all we've done for him."

Clint's eyes narrowed. "That makes no sense."

"No, but it does for Pete. Think about it. Keeping our family at a distance means anything that happens to us isn't his fault."

Someone award Laura a Nobel Peace Prize. The woman was a marvel. Marrying her was the smartest decision Clint ever made, on record, no questions asked.

Clint looked over at her. "I hadn't even remotely thought of that, him worrying that he'll bring trouble to us. I'll have a chat with him about it."

Laura and Clint went back to studying their youngest, this amalgamation of their genes that never got old to see: Laura's nose and eyes were highlighted in Nate's face. But the mouth and ears were all Clint. So was the bushy head of hair, recessive from Clint's grandfather and brother.

"Think I made the right call, telling them about Pete?"

Laura massaged Clint's shoulder. "I do. It was inevitable. They were going to find out sooner rather than later, and this way they all found out at the same time. Lila will come around, you'll see."

They paused, listening to Cooper tromp up the stairs and into his room for some actual sleep. He had never really outgrown the 'excessive sleeping as often as possible' phase that teens went through.

"And if she doesn't?"

"We'll fall back on our original plan of calling CPS or Hill. Don't think I don't know about that phone call you made."

The words landed flat in the space between them, both Laura and Clint grimacing. The thought of handing Pete over to impersonal social workers who might send him to an even worse place than he'd been in before, wherever and whoever that happened to be, was intolerable. Clint felt itchy just imagining it. He didn't help save the world, multiple times, to knowingly throw a child to the wolves.

Laura kissed Nate's nose.

"Couldn't do this without you, Laura."

She leaned on his shoulder. "That's the idea."

She tore herself away from Nate first, then Clint, after planting an echoing kiss on Nate's wrapped knuckles. "Sleep well, buddy."

Before following Laura to their room, Clint stopped in Cooper's open doorway. He knocked on the frame.

Cooper looked up from sorting homework on his desk. "Think Pete would look over my physics homework too?"

Clint grinned. "He's a huge nerd and truth be told, I think he gets bored out there all day, so you'd be doing him a favour."

"Cool."

Clint helped stack it all into binders that then went into his backpack. Various Minecraft keychains clinked against each other. Cooper was already dressed for bed and toed off his slipper socks.

"You're just…okay with all this? Not freaking out internally?" Clint couldn't help asking, lifting the covers on Cooper's bed so he could slide in. The contrast between Cooper and Lila's reactions was too stark for Clint not to question.

Cooper smiled at the obvious smothering but didn't point it out. "Pete sounds nice. Plus we never, ever would have found Nate before morning without him. Who knows what would have happened? There are big rocks in that part of the woods, not to mention the deeper parts of the creek. The water would have gone way over Nate's head."

"Don't remind me," said Clint, quiet and tight.

"Pete's just sleeping in a hammock. He feels safe here, right?"

Clint considered that. "Relatively, yes."

"Then I don't see what the big deal is. He hasn't stolen anything or hurt you guys?"

"I think he'd sooner take a bullet than harm us in any way. Kid's got a conscience to rival Captain America."

"There you go." Cooper rolled over onto his side and his eyes drooped. "Worry solved. Night, Dad."

Clint flattened down that one hair shank that always stuck up on the back of Cooper's crown. "Night, squirt. Love you. See you in the morning for some pancakes."

"M'kay. L've you too."

It might have been Clint's imagination (or wishful thinking) but before he fell into bed that night with Laura, he peered out the window and thought he spotted a faint speck by the archery target. Clint stood there for almost five minutes, focusing his eyes to their limit to see the white spectre where it hovered at the treeline.

It also might have been Clint's imagination—but the speck turned towards Clint as if it could see him from that far away.

Clint stood there long after the face melted back into the dark.

AN: Randy the raccoon is based on a real critter from around our neighbourhood. He's a bizarre colour, like a half albino or like his coat's been put through a wash cycle, and he comes out during the day rather than at night and likes to sit in the driveway while he eats, staring at us. He's a funky little dude but we love him!