A/N: Pheeeeeeeeeew, it's late! But I couldn't go to bed without updating, so here we are. (chuckles)

THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for all your reviews, listings and love! I can't believe how many of you joined this ride. You guys are precious! (HUGS)

Awkay, because it's late and I've kept you waiting, let's go! I really hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

Acceptance

/ Days. Weeks. Months. Years? Time didn't exist where Clint was, for there was no concept of time in hell. And even if there was, keeping track would've only hurt more.

At least he'd finally stopped dreaming of his family and friends, and if he'd been more coherent it would've saddened him.

By some miracle he was still alive. Emilia joked that it looked like his body had forgotten how to die. It was far more likely that she was simply waiting for the right time to bring things to an end.

There were probably days long intervals when he was abandoned entirely. No food, no water, no healthcare. One of those came to a brutal halt when the door screeched open painfully loudly. With whatever little there was left of his strength he lifted his head, enough to see a pair of high heeled shoes.

"I'm going to give you a special goodbye gift, Little Bird", Emilia announced with the air of someone talking about the weather. She took a couple of slow steps closer. "You're going to get out of here a one more time. And do you know what's the best part for you? If you do everything as I say… If you're a good little pet… I'm going to let you walk away alive." He could feel her eyes on him before she went on. "Well, as much as you can be described as being alive." She lifted his chin with a gentle hand and smiled at him before kissing his lips briefly. "I'm your only hope, Clint. This time I'm your director. And if you're obedient… you'll see how much more merciful I am than Nicholas Fury." She stroked his cheek with one finger. "Be a good boy and soon you'll be home with your family. Isn't that more than Nicholas ever allowed you?"

To get to see his family… His kids… Laura… His friends… It was intoxicating, even if it was fool's hope. Clint clung to it desperately to salvage what little was left of his sanity. Then let go. Because he was still sane enough to realize that this was his green mile. He was determined to make it count.

The whole time he heard a bizarre, ticking noise inside his head. While he was escorted out of his cell. While he stole a gun from one of his… companions. While he pulled on a mask that hid his head. While he led the others into a S.H.I.E.L.D facility, his knowledge of the building helping them to the correct spot quickly. While he began to work on computer files concerning Project Eve. While he unleashed a vicious virus on them instead of downloading copies of them.

The ticking noise ended when he heard Tony's voice, and he knew that it was over. /

It was late afternoon when Dr. Sarah Harris entered the Tower's main common space to find everyone from the Avengers but Clint present. She'd already talked to Laura, who was currently giving the kids something to eat and doing her hardest to pretend that something hadn't just rattled her to the core of her being. Sarah could barely even imagine how scared, worried and overwhelmed Laura had to feel. Facing Clint in the man's current mental frame had gotten under even the therapist's skin more than it should've.

Sarah sighed heavily and took a deep breath, wondering where to start. "So… I'm telling you all this with Clint's permission, because it's important that you know what's going on to be active parts of his recovery." She went on after a couple of impatient glares and Steve's tense but polite nod. "If I'm brutally honest, usually I'd recommend someone in his condition a stay at a psychiatric facility. But I doubt it'd be beneficial in his case. Right now he needs to be in a place where he feels safe." From the corner of her eye he saw a flash of happiness and pride on Tony's face. Fighting back a smile she went on. "And he needs to be with people he can trust. Because he does trust you all, that's never changed. He also knows how much you want to help him. The problem is that he also knows what you went through during the six months you imagined he was gone." There was a collective shudder in the room. She went on when she felt that the others were ready to continue listening. "He doesn't want to make you go through any more of that. And I think everyone in this room knows how bad he is at accepting help."

Everyone nodded sullenly. Exhausted to the bone but not yet defeated. "How are we supposed to get him to cooperate?" Natasha demanded, her tone sharpened by frustration.

Sarah gritted her teeth, wondering how much she could reveal without betraying her patient's trust. "Right now he's too weary to keep pretending." After eight full hours she'd only dared to leave the archer's side when the man was out cold from heavy medication. "But he'll keep recovering, and he'll try again. This time we'll all be ready for it." Because she wasn't too proud to admit that the archer had even her fooled. Her eyes narrowed as they scanned through the group. "And if you want to help, you need to help yourselves first. Which means no more skipping sessions with me."

Clint slept for forty-nine hours. The dreams he had… weren't exactly pleasant. And when he woke up he had the worst headache he'd ever experienced. Which was saying something, considering the fact that he'd faced two cases of a fractured skull and more concussions than he could count.

His eyes opened, and aside the raging headache he felt utterly drained.

The last thing he remembered properly was heading to a shower. After that… It was mainly just flashes, dreams or real he wasn't entirely sure. How long…?

With the sheer power of stubbornness he began to struggle to a sitting position. And, to his own shock, actually succeeded. The whole world spun and his headache definitely didn't improve from the effort but he did it. Eventually.

The room's door opened, startling him. He tensed up to an extend that did his body no favors until Natasha's comfortingly familiar voice spoke. "How about that. Look who's finally awake." Clearly suspecting that he had a headache she was merciful enough to keep her voice down.

Clint shook his head and discovered in a flash that it was a very bad idea. It took a full minute and his friend calling his name twice before he was able to do at least somewhat coherent thinking. His mind zeroed on… "Laura?" he rasped, and winced at the sound of his voice. "The kids?"

"I sent Laura to get a nap a couple of hours ago. She's gotten as stubborn as you." Only a careful ear caught the hint of fondness. "Stark's babysitting the kids. Or the kids are babysitting him. It's hard to tell."

Clint felt a brush of relief. Until a sudden thought made his whole body grow cold. "The kids… They didn't see me… like this, right?" They were already so traumatized. The last thing they needed…

"Nope. Although it's been pretty hard to keep them away. As far as they know you've just been feeling a little sick." She took a seat beside him. "It's dinner time. Do you feel up to joining the others?"

Clint shook his head, and once again regretted it instantly when he had to fight to keep himself from throwing up. He didn't feel like moving at all. The idea of leaving the room was even less appealing. Facing the others and eating… It would've been too much.

Natasha nodded, unsurprised. "I figured as much. I'll go and get you some of that carrot-soup Wanda made." Seeing his lips part for an objection she narrowed her eyes warningly. "You eat, I eat. That's the deal. I'm not letting my best friend starve to death so we'll just have to find foods your stomach agrees with." It sounded incredibly simple and easy when she said it.

Clint swallowed and looked away. His fingers squirmed restlessly. "Tasha, I can't… I'm not…" He wasn't sure he could do what she expected of him. He'd never be quite the same person he once was. And somehow he'd have to accept that it was okay.

"I know." Natasha seemed to understand. And although he knew how much she hated change, deep down, it looked like she was at peace with the realization. "But we'll be okay, all of us. Eventually."

Clint wished that he'd been able to smile as he grasped on to those words with all there was in him.

He didn't realize it until almost a year later, during a therapy session. But as they sat there eating soup in a companionable silence he felt at peace for the first time since the nightmare began. He didn't know that so did Natasha.

After the soup Clint slept some more. He had a nasty feeling that he had Dr. Harris' meds to thank for it. When he began to wake up again, groggy and confused but at least not exhausted, he had no idea what he'd been dreaming about. It was a bliss.

He sighed and rubbed his face drowsily with one hand. Then froze. He wasn't alone. He almost reacted violently until he realized that he recognized this presence.

"Daddy?" a familiar, sleepy voice murmured. Something warm and soft shifted beside him. "Are you awake?"

He shifted stiffly, his body achy from lack of activity. "Yeah." His eyes opened halfway to discover Lila snuggled against him. Sleepy and a little weary but whole and well. Feeling a massive surge of relief and affection, he kissed the top of her head. "Sorry that I've been sleeping too much."

Lila smiled. A pure, honest gesture, free of worry. For the first time in ages she looked like someone of her age. "It's okay. You look happier now."

Clint felt his eyes soften. "I feel happier, too." He was unaware of the tiny smile on his face.

When Laura entered the room half an hour later to check up on the two she found them sleeping soundly. The father holding the daughter as much as it was the other way round. Although she knew that the recovery was still very incomplete she finally found it easy to breathe.

A couple of days later Wanda was tossing and turning in her bed while nightmares grabbed a nasty, greedy hold of her. So many faces blurred together. Her parents, Pietro, Clint… She cried and whimpered, desperately calling out to them all. Begging them to come back to her.

"Wanda?"

She gasped, trying to reach out towards that voice. It sounded safe. It sounded like a home.

"Wanda?" So close, now… "Are you…?"

Before that sentence was completed she lunged to a sitting position with a hungry breath, and wrapped her arms around the man sitting on the edge of her bed. Clint shivered and hesitated, but in the end he returned the hold with at least the same intensity. And there in her arms he felt warm, real. Alive.

Painstakingly slowly Wanda's breaths began to even out while she caught a grip over herself. "Sorry", she murmured, pressing her face against his shoulder. It took fairly long before she dared to try talking again. "How did you know?"

"You were, ah… projecting, a little." He rubbed comforting circles on her back. "You called out to me."

Embarrassment washed through her. Along with guilt. "Sorry. I didn't mean to." Didn't he have enough nightmares of his own already? He didn't need hers to worry about as well.

Clint's hold on her tightened before he pushed her further tenderly, so that they were able to look at each other. There was a stern expression on his face, and right then he looked just like the man who was once robbed from them. "Wanda, it's not a bad thing to need someone on occasion. And don't ever feel bad about calling out to me, because I'll be there whenever you need me. Understood?"

Wanda nodded. And finally, for the first time since she lost her parents, she felt like she had the permission to be every bit as young as she was. Even as she finally broke down, bringing down a damn she built far too long ago, a huge weight was lifted from her shoulders.

About an hour later they'd both calmed down a little. Only then did Clint speak. "Laura and Vision are arranging an early morning ice-cream party for the kids. How about you join us? Because you look like you need some ice-cream."

It was the second time Clint invited her to join a family. And as a familiar warmth filled Wanda her answer was the same. Okay. "They've got mint, right?"

After a while Clint goofed around with his kids and Vision observed with something that looked like curiosity. Which was when Laura, with a smile on her face, whispered a secret to Wanda. It was the first time Clint left the room where he'd been recovering since Dr. Harris led him there after the shower incident.

A few days later Tony didn't know what woke him up in the middle of the night, because for once he'd been sleeping soundly. A frown on his face, he made sure that Pepper was asleep on the bed they once again shared and left the room soundlessly. Allowing some sort of a sixth sense lead him, he made his through the Tower. Until he reached the building's main common space and saw someone on the couch. In the light radiating from the TV he was able to see a ruffled bush of blond hair.

Tony frowned, slightly alarmed. "What are you doing up at this hour, watching…?" His frown deepened as he looked towards the TV-screen. "Is that 'Adventure Time'?"

"Maybe."

Tony would've laughed, but something about the whole situation felt… off. Well, he hadn't been asked to leave, so the billionaire marched to the couch and made himself comfortable. "A rough night?" he inquired, keeping his tone as casual as possible.

There was a loud gulp. Followed by very, very quiet three seconds. "Something like that."

"Wanna talk about it?" There was no response, and Tony's stomach twisted from… well, after everything he was forced to admit worry. "Clint?" He turned his head and discovered something struck him truly, genuinely speechless.

Clint was trembling miserably, and there were tears the archer didn't even try to blink away in the man's eyes. Tony had never, ever seen his friend appear so vulnerable willingly. And although it hurt to watch, he also felt a brush of pride in front of such immense trust.

It'd take some time to get used to this new Clint who emerged from the ordeal. They'd clash horribly, both of them still reeling from… it. But they'd make it through. They had all the time in the world.

"If you tell anyone about this…"

"I know, Feathers, I'll find an arrow from my ass."

"Good, I'm glad we got that sorted."

So maybe they were both out of their minds, but they began to giggle hysterically.

A week later Maria Hill stopped by at the Tower, and Clint was unable to convince himself that it wasn't to check up on him. In return he checked up on the S.H.I.E.L.D. Not only did he hear, for the first time, that Fury was no longer the Avengers' director. He also learned that as far as Steve was concerned, the team no longer existed.

Finally he understood why Steve had been avoiding him. And why everyone avoided the issue when he asked why they didn't seem to be taking missions anymore. The lightning sharp flash of anger was exactly what he needed.

He stormed out of the Tower. And soon enough he stood in the middle of the Captain's favorite jogging path, blocking the man's route. If Clint hadn't been too pissed off to appreciate the humor, he would've found Steve's expression worth a snapshot. "Barton, what are you…?"

His eyes narrowed and he gritted his teeth so hard that it made a sound. "Oh, no, you're not going to 'Barton' me." He folded his arms, mainly to keep himself from punching his friend. "So you're done with the team, huh? No more Captain America?"

This time it was Steve gritting his teeth. The expression on the man's face reminded him of how Thor looked when the Asgardian didn't succeed in picking up his hammer. "I failed you. Six months, and I couldn't bring you home. How am I supposed to trust myself as a leader?"

"Five." Clint's voice was sharp and hard, like thunder. It seemed to catch his friend's attention, which ushered him on. "That's how many times you've saved my life, Steve. And what about all those lives the Avengers have saved? Do they mean nothing to you?" More and more fire filled him with each word. A little more and he'd be unable to keep a fist from swinging. "You saw what happened to New York and Sokovia! You know how it would've ended without the team! And you know as well as I do that something like that is going to happen again! When it does I refuse to be the reason the Avengers aren't protecting the world anymore! I refuse to be the thing that tears the team apart! You don't get to put me into that position!"

Steve sighed heavily. His eyes appeared far older than anyone's who'd been born in the 40s. "And what if I'm done with always being the soldier?"

Clint shook his head firmly. "You're not. Trust me, I can see it, because I thought I was, too. We may stumble but we don't stay down. We don't give up when the war isn't over."

Steve stared at him. And then some of the following amusement reached the man's exhausted eyes. "Is that an order?"

Clint smirked. "Yeah, Captain. It is."

As they made their way slowly back to the Tower neither noticed two things. It'd been pouring rain the whole time. And it was the first time since coming back from the dead Clint left the building on his own.

The Barton family staying at the Tower forever wasn't an option, of course. Eventually they made their way back home. Back to the Farm that once again felt like a home with their whole family intact. And there the healing continued, slowly and at times painfully but steadily.

Two months after their return Laura peered through the window when she heard laughter from the front yard. She couldn't help but chuckle upon discovering that Clint and Cooper, who was shining with one of those far too rare big smiles of his, were putting together a doghouse. Apparently they'd be getting a dog, then.

Going back to preparing dinner, Laura allowed her mind to drift into the ordeal her family had gone through. Lila and especially Cooper still had nightmares far too often. So did Laura, hard as she struggled to not let them show. Sometimes she was so scared of losing her husband again that she could barely breathe. A couple of times she'd had a panic attack upon waking up to find Clint gone from their bed. Some of those traumas would always stay with them. Which was something Clint would never, ever forgive himself. Out of guilt and devotion that man pushed himself, sometimes so hard that it terrified Laura. There were horrible days, those when the bad days of family members clashed. Days when the emotional wounds and scars were too much. But more and more often there were also days like this. The good kind. Days when she got to have the husband she thought she lost.

Hearing a familiar melody of 'As Time Goes By' from the radio, Laura woke up from her thoughts. She shivered when the volume picked up and a pair of tender arms wrapped around her, spinning her around. She chuckled. "Barton, what are you doing?"

Clint responded by kissing her in such a manner that left her completely, utterly breathless. Once they broke apart his eyes shone exactly like when they first met. "They're playing our song."

No further explanation was needed. Holding on to each other with all the adoration they felt for one another they danced slowly, eyes closed. In those stolen minutes pain, grief and suffering didn't exist. It was just the two of them dancing to their song.

After the song ended and they got lost into a second kiss they were both still alive. Still together, safe and sound in each other's arms. And it was all they needed to make it through all the bad days that'd come.

Only eight people in the whole world knew about the place Nick Fury entered on a bitterly cold Christmas morning. With a stony expression on his face he passed by six security measures, until he made it to a tiny room with twenty monitors displaying footage of thrice as many security cameras. He nodded sharply at the young guard keeping watch, then locked all his attention to one of the monitors.

It showed footage from a tiny, round shaped room that had no windows or a door. It was the size of a well, made entirely out of stone with only a hole in the ceiling through which food was delivered. Those delivering the food had no idea who was inside. Only that it was someone too dangerous to ever see the light of day. The man currently keeping Fury company had no idea, either. Only the one-eyed man himself knew the mysterious prisoner's true identity.

The poison Natasha gave Emilia was the same the criminal used to convince everyone that Clint was dead. It didn't kill the archer. And it didn't end Emilia's life, either.

In that cell she woke up, most likely imagining that she was dead, and in that cell she'd eventually really die. She was far too dangerous to be allowed outside. Especially to their daughter, Fury reminded himself the second his heart almost felt sympathy for the woman he once loved.

That woman died a long time ago, he knew. And only this monster remained. Because unlike Clint Emilia never made it out of the hell she went through.

At the moment the woman sat in the middle of the cell with her eyes closed. Keeping them open wouldn't have made any difference because there was no way of seeing. She was screaming, over and over again. There was no audio transmitted but Fury knew exactly what she was saying.

"EVE!"

"Who's she calling out to?" the guard inquired with curiosity.

Fury's eyes darkened and narrowed. The pain was almost more than he could bear. "A ghost."

The guard wished him a merry Christmas as Fury turned and left, deciding that his weekly inspection was over. He offered no response. The metallic doors and security systems clanged and whirred loudly as he made his way out of the building.

Eve was safe, and while it did nothing to ease his aching heart it'd have to be enough.

End

A/N: How about that, a happy ending after all the pain and suffering! (BEAMS) And did you really think that I'd let Emilia off the hook that easily? (smirks evilly)

SOOOOOOO, people… How was that for a closure? Good? Horrible? Lukewarm? PLEASE, do let me know! I'm always a bit nervous about finishing stories so I'd LOVE to hear from you.

In any case, THANK YOU SO MUCH for sticking around through this insanely emotional ride! It's been a HUGE pleasure to type to you. (HUGS)

Who knows, maybe I'll see you again one day. In any case, take care – of yourselves and all the Clitn Bartons out there!

Anonymous: Emotional, wasn't it? (whimpers) Let's hope that they'll be okay!

Their DEFINITELY my favorite couple! (BEAMS) And words can't describe how much I love Clint.

Colossal thank yous for the review! Until next time.