#so here is the final chapter! So many feels! a MAJOR portion of this has been changed after the beta reader got a hold of it so look out for a big surprise icanhearthedrums:)
Chapter 9
Ocean City, New Jersey was a shore front town famous for beaches, tourists, cotton candy, and deep fried Oreos. The town itself was alcohol free, despite being ringed by three liquor stores just outside of the city limits, and nights were filled with drinking beneath the wooden boardwalks while taking in the sounds of the seagulls and ocean. The homes were built up upon themselves, overtaking the postage stamp lawns. Summer meant the tourist influx. Streets were overrun with rich families and their young children, all with the hope to escape whatever lives they had at home and enjoy the sun, sand, and shore. It was the last place on earth Clint Barton expected to find Bruce.
A full month had passed since the attack on Stark Tower shook the team. They had yet to fully unravel the depth of Blackstone's connection to Hydra. Fingers were pointed toward Hammer Industries instead. Since the World Fair debacle, Hammer had been serving time but an associate of his had a grand plan to break into the Tower, steal the tech on the R&D levels, and get out before Hammer's release date the following week. True to form, Hammer's plans hardly followed through in life as he had written out on paper. Though bombing the Tower and the employees might have felt like retribution at the time, the resulting fallback in court set in stone that Hammer would not be leaving his prison cell any time soon.
Frankly, the logistics were too diverting in Clint's mind. It was too easy to put everything in a neat bow and blame Hammer. On top of that, Clint's file from his mission at the Tesseract base was already sealed deep enough that even Tony had yet to break through it. Something was missing. Some piece of the puzzle was just beyond their grasp and Clint wasn't going to rest until he understood how far reaching Blackstone was. The entire raid was much too complicated for a man of Hammer's capabilities. The entire Avengers team knew there was more to this mess then what SHIELD planned to admit to.
Beyond that obvious trouble, was the difficulty they faced in Bruce Banner. Clint, like the other Avengers, waited for Bruce to come back from the Hulk. After tearing through ten levels and nearly collapsing the north face of the Tower, the Hulk decided to leave. He headed east first, trekking across most of New York, and even to Canada. After crossing the border back into the United States, he fell off the grid, even by SHIELD standards. Bruce had a talent for that. For the first two weeks, SHIELD kept their distance, allowing Bruce time to himself. When it was obvious he wasn't coming back, Clint was assigned to track him down.
When Bruce first hid himself away in Calcutta, Clint was the one set to finding him. After nailing down his semi-permanent location, Clint was reassigned to the Tesseract base. If he could find Bruce before, he could do it now. After finding him, he had the option of calling SHIELD, reporting the new Ocean City location, and head back to New York without making contact. But he decided against that. He wanted to talk to Bruce, as a friend, especially after all that happened.
He found him down on the boardwalk heading to the busy music pier. It was late into August already but the people here were packed in like sardines. The sun was just past its zenith on its way to a startling sunset without a cloud in the sky. There were screams from kids flying around on the park rides. The haphazard human traffic patterns caused one to zigzag through the stop-and-go pedestrians. For Bruce, who'd never enjoyed crowds and did his very best to stay away from them at all costs, this was a peculiar move for him.
Clint tailed him on the boardwalk for nearly a mile. When they reached the music pier, Bruce took the stairs down to the sand and headed into the tan grains past the dunes. He wasn't exactly dressed for a swim. He was wearing a pair of trousers Clint didn't recognize as his own, a generic t-shirt and urban sandals. He didn't look bad, just like an office worker who'd decided dress casual meant trading wingtip leather shoes for a pair of flip flops was dress down enough.
Clint was wearing his shades and a ball cap he borrowed from Steve's room. He considered a sleeveless shirt, but his physique was common enough knowledge to Bruce to tip the man off at once. Instead he was sweating in a long sleeved white cotton shirt. He wore khaki shorts, a color he internally detested, and tennis shoes. If this turned into a foot race, he wanted to be prepared.
Bruce threaded his way through the staked out beach patrons. Umbrellas, towels, kites, bathing suits, running children, sand castles, dolphins, waves, sea shells, plastic buckets . . . the ocean front was everything Clint had read up on and more. If he didn't know Hurricane Sandy decimated the place, it would seem like it hadn't changed since the 1940s.
He made a mental note to bring Steve here.
Bruce walked until he reached the high water line and plopped down beside a vacated lifeguard tower. The shade was a welcome relief for his unshaded eyes. Clint stood on the other side of the tower, wondering just how he was going to play the rest of this out. He'd been repeating the speech he planned every day, forty times a day, since the moment he brought a dying Helen Morrissey to Bruce instead of a hospital.
"Sand's cooler over here." Bruce said.
Clint inclined his head some as he leaned down to see beneath the legs of the lifeguard tower. Bruce was looking at him. He wondered how long he'd been made. At least the guy didn't Hulk out and take off like Clint expected him to do – yet.
"Looks that way." Clint replied, not moving right away.
Bruce was watching a child in a pink swim suit stamping her three-year-old feet in a puddle her father dug in the sand. Her chubby little arms swung around as she drooled and babbled insensibly.
"You gonna just stand there, Agent Barton?" Bruce asked.
Clint winced. Being called Agent Barton was not a good start. He deferred to Bruce and padded his way around the white and red construction. He sat down in the sand beside Bruce. In a show of good faith, he unlaced his tennis shoes, peeled off his socks, and shoved his toes into the sand. Bruce was right, the shade did feel good. The sand was nearly ten degrees colder here than around them. Together they watched the little girl play in the puddle as her father kept digging, as if expecting to unearth a trove of treasure.
"Come to bring me back?" Bruce asked.
"No."
"Keep tabs on me?"
"No. I just like funnel cake."
"Don't screw with me, Barton, please."
Clint was off put by Bruce's demeanor. Usually he was more tolerant of Clint's wise cracks. He sighed and stacked his hands across his knees. "All right, Bruce. I'll give it to you straight, if that's what you want."
With the ball in Bruce's court, he failed to pass. The scientist was smart and he knew how to get under people's skin. Natasha experienced that first hand when they met in Calcutta. If he wanted to draw this out, he could. If he wanted Clint to start squirming and result to calling in a strike team, he could do that too. Or he could just sit, enjoy the shade, and have a conversation with a friend.
"Can you not be SHIELD for like, ten minutes?" Bruce asked.
It was the first time Clint had ever been asked that question. He held up a finger, pulled his hearing aids out of his ears and stuffed them into his shoes beneath his socks. "If that's what you want, you got it. But I'm going to have to read your lips. I worry about them bugging my aids when I'm not looking if you know what I mean."
Bruce nodded that he did. Clint shifted his body just enough to look at Bruce as he spoke without straining his neck. He pulled of his sun glasses and set them in his shoe as well.
"How do you do it?" Bruce asked.
"I don't know." Clint said honestly. "I don't know what else I'd be doing. Actually, that's a lie. I'd be in jail. Or Blackstone. Or in AIM or Centipede. Talents like mine are useful, usually not for the right reason."
"Do you have to just do what they say? Do you ever question why?"
"I think you know me well enough to know that I question everything they tell me to do." Clint wanted to smile, but he didn't. He knew this conversation was less and less about Clint's career as a SHIELD agent, and more about what made Morrissey choose the way of life that got her killed.
"But you still do it. Even if you don't agree with it."
"It's hard to answer that." Clint told him. "It depends on the situation. I had a C.O. come in after Coulson who ordered a strike team on a possible terrorist hot spot in Balari. I was on that team. When I finished recon, I found out the hot spot was a school full of day care kids. I questioned orders then. I went as far as to prevent the team. I risked a bullet from a really mad C.O., but I didn't do it."
"Have you ever taken out a hit on another agent? If they came back as injured as you were? If they disobeyed orders?"
Clint wanted Bruce to repeat himself to make sure he'd read his lips correctly. The idea hit him like a slap in the face. So this is what Bruce thought. He couldn't come back because he couldn't look Clint in the eye without tearing him in half. All because of what he thought Clint was ordered to do. "Bruce, I want to tell you what I didn't get to say before. Will you let me?"
Bruce looked back at the water. He wasn't leaving, a good sign.
"It's my fault that Helen is dead."
Bruce's fingers tightened but he showed no signs of losing his control. Not yet anyway.
"We were trapped together in a no win scenario—" Clint stopped himself. He couldn't hear himself speak, but he knew he sounded like a SHIELD robot. He had to tell Bruce the facts without clouding them in agent speak.
"When I went in to look for more survivors on one of the floors, she was right behind me. I should have told her to leave. I should have called for Steve to back me up, or you, but I didn't. She was there, convenient, and I used her. That got her killed. When I opened the door, the place was empty. Then, it wasn't. We were swamped on all sides and if I had been alone I would be dead. But she was there, and we made it into the next room. I thought she sealed the door we were behind. I didn't make sure. I should have and, that decision not to, killed her. We took out the men one by one in the second door until I was able to get across the office and seal it off. They broke through the first and I wasn't fast enough. I wasn't. She should have let me get shot, but she didn't. I should have realized she was hurt but I didn't. When we got to the elevator, she collapsed in my arms. I could have brought her to Tony, made him try to take her to the hospital but I decided to take her to you. That decision killed her."
Clint shook his head. He couldn't believe he was able to say all that. He hoped Bruce could understand him. Without his hearing aids, his speech sometimes slurred or the volume was off. If he talked for long enough, the changes made it difficult to tell what he was saying. A look at Bruce's face didn't help determine whether his friend knew what Clint was saying or not. Bruce's expression hadn't changed.
One thing Clint decided day one was that Bruce was never going to hear about Agent Morrissey's involvement in Blackstone or Hydra. The only ones who had some inkling of the truth were Tony and Steve and, at that, Clint's information to them was limited. His explanation was that she was investigating them in the Middle East during her tour and she'd found a link to Hydra. That was all. As for drugging Bruce . . . that was a thing to bury as well.
"Bruce, I killed her the minute I put her in the office. If you've been thinking it was your fault, or even Blackstone it's not. It's mine. It's SHIELD's. They put us in the field expecting, one of these days, we aren't coming back. But if you think some order came down from Fury telling me to put three bullets in her and let you watch her die, then you're wrong. I would never do that to you – ever. I'm your friend before I'm a SHIELD agent. I'm an Avenger before I'm a SHIELD agent. Hell, you tell me to quit and I will leave, now, and take the consequences."
Clint stood. He grabbed his shoes in one hand. "I'm not taking you back. And I'm not telling them where you are. I wanted to find you because I wanted to tell you that. Goodbye, Bruce."
Bruce knew Clint wasn't going to hear if he called for him to stop. He grabbed the retreating archer's ankle, the only available hold point, and Clint paused. Bruce motioned to the sand beside him, wanting Clint to sit. Barton did. Bruce tapped the side of his head. Clint put in his hearing aids.
The sounds of the ocean beating against the sea shore came back with a roar. He always had to adjust from the silence to the suddenness of the world coming back to him. The little girl was dancing, stamping, and screaming. Seagulls had descended on a couple to their right, ripping a bag of potato chips out of the woman's hands while the man laughed.
"I don't like crowds." Bruce admitted what Clint already knew. "It's always like I'm behind this glass wall. I can look out at them, but that's all. I can't get too close. I have to keep to myself. I have to keep apart even at Stark's place. When I met her, suddenly that glass felt like it was cracking. I actually let myself dream a little."
Clint realized Bruce wasn't just here, taking in the sweet moments of a father and daughter enjoying themselves on the beach. Bruce was coming to terms with that fact that this happy moment would never happen for him.
"I always wanted a little girl." Bruce said.
Clint wasn't sure how to respond to that. He'd never given it any serious thought himself. The only woman he'd ever considered being with was Natasha, and after all the things the Red Room had done to her, she couldn't have kids. Leaving SHIELD, making a real life for himself, it never really occurred to him.
"I never thought about it." Clint said.
"I've loved a couple girls in my life." Bruce said. "Betty, Helen. After the accident I kept loving Betty but I never wanted her to deal with what I had become. Helen was different. She knew what she was getting into from the start. I hadn't felt that kind of freedom in a long time. Suddenly, it all felt so real. I worked with Stark, I had an income, I had a great girl. I started putting things together. Like, maybe, I could have a life."
He sighed and rested back with his palms in the sand. "I'm not an idiot, Clint. I know she was undercover. And that she was working for Blackstone. I knew because she told me the night before she died. For me, it's not normal to not be the Hulk. It's not normal to love a girl like I could love her. I tested a blood sample and found the Tetradatoxin. I asked her about it and she came out with the truth."
Clint's mouth dropped open a little. "Bruce, I—"
"You know what sucks about the whole thing? There are seven compounds fused with the Tetradatoxin that can't be identified by mass spec. Without her, I can never have that life back. I'll never know what they gave me to make me normal again."
The girl jumped and laughed as the water rushed toward her.
"I always wanted a little girl." Bruce confessed.
Clint smiled a little sadly. "All right. Let's play this game. If I wasn't an agent, and I could do whatever I wanted, I would get back into the circus."
Bruce's gaze at last was torn away from the child to look surprisingly at Clint. "What?"
"You wanted to go there, so I did. I would go back to wearing a leotard every night and traveling the world in the menagerie car with the big cats. I'd go by my call name, perform all the tricks I want, have my own agent, and just travel. Never thought about kids but if you're making me do that to, then I want a son. Just one. You know what, probably two, since they can be spoiled brats when there's only one."
"The circus?" Bruce repeated, still dazed. "You would run away and join the circus."
"Worked when I was nine, why not go back?" Clint replied. "I was happy there. If you're talking about being happy for the rest of my life doing one thing, then that's what I want to do. So I dropped my pants. What do you got? What do you want?"
Bruce considered the matter very seriously, as if whatever choice he was soon to make would define the remainder of his life. "Teaching." He said. "I was a professor once, while I worked on the gamma radiation project. I taught physics. That was when I was happiest. Working with Tony, the Tower, don't get me wrong it's really great. I love the team. The weird family thing we have. But that's the time where I think I was always the happiest."
Clint nodded as if he expected that exact answer. He reached into the back pocket of his shorts and extracted a well-worn folded letter. This he handed over. It was opened already, bearing both Stark Industries and Dr. Bruce Banner on the label. Bruce inspected the return address to see it was from Princeton University in Northern New Jersey.
"Funny you say that." Clint said. "We got six of these the last couple weeks. I found them when I was helping Pepper sort through the mail room clutter during the cleanup. I brought that one along. It's not often you get official mail."
Bruce slipped his hand into the envelope and extracted the letter from inside. He unfolded it, placing the envelope beneath his leg to prevent it from flying off. The first few lines were familiar for form letters: the general introductions, the pleasantries from the president of the university, then the meat of the reason for a letter at all.
"They want to hire me?" Bruce said incredulously.
"Yes, they do." Clint said.
"I got how many of these?"
"Six, last time I was home. Maybe more."
"And you brought me this one? Just this one? Where were the others from?"
"Doesn't matter."
Bruce folded the letter and returned it to the envelope. He placed it in his back pocket. "Ok. You've got me. Why doesn't it matter?"
Clint replied as if it was the most logical answer in the world. "Because you are working at Princeton."
Apparently his assurance was not good enough. "And why there? You know, I used to work out of UC Davis and—"
"Princeton is closer." Barton interrupted. "Only an hour without a helicopter or jet which will cut it down to twenty minutes, tops. They recently upgraded the physics department to include a graduate studies program and heavy research areas in engineering and molecular biology. In fact, their Lewis-Sigler Institute for Integrative Genomics recently received a fellowship grant for their advanced research techniques. The Fellowship made it so they want to expand their undergraduate degree program. Hire a part time or full time professor."
While Barton spoke in his Tony Stark stolen way, Bruce had progressively turned in the sand until the two of them were facing each other. The ocean, child, father, shade, and all else was forgotten. This strange specter sitting beside him pretending to be Clint Barton was much more fascinating than any bikini clad woman tromping down the Jersey Shore.
"Clint, I think those are the biggest words you've ever said to me that had nothing to do with Asgard or killing someone." Bruce said.
"I practiced after I called them and had the dean send me the brochure for the physics department." Clint admitted. "And stop giving me that look."
"I'm just trying to figure out how you did it."
"Well stop, you're freaking me out." Clint said. He stood, shaking sand off his shorts as he grabbed his shoes again. Beside him, Bruce did the same. The sun had moved over its zenith and their shade was slowly moving across the ground away from them. If they stayed out much longer with no SPF, most likely they'd returned to the Tower like a pair of toasted potato chips. When Bruce was ready, they headed up the beach together toward the boardwalk.
"My dad went to Princeton." Clint said after a time.
Bruce, having known nothing of Clint's family beside the fact that he didn't have any, was again marveled by the revelation. "Did he?"
"I remember his certificate, diploma you know, hanging in our den when I was little. I liked that gold seal thing they put on them. I figured, when I grew up, I'd go there. Finish high school, go to college, get some degree in something, turn into a suit. I guess I did become a suit, just not the kind I expected."
"Clint, is the reason I'm supposed to work at Princeton because you always wanted to go there?" Bruce asked, kindly.
"No." Clint replied, trying to appear offended.
Bruce knew better then to be fooled by him. They were on the boardwalk now. He didn't know where Clint was leading him. He knew he made it to Ocean City by hitch hiking his way down the coast, so most likely Clint had a car parked someplace. Bruce had to admit to himself that their conversation was not what he had planned. He was angry at Barton. He wanted to be angry at someone and Clint was an easy choice. If he had only chosen to go to Tony and not to Bruce, then Bruce wouldn't have had to shoulder the memory of a woman he cared for dying in his arms. He also blamed himself. He should have insisted that Morrissey stay out of Stark Tower. He knew as well as Clint did that wouldn't have stopped her. She was a SHIELD agent. She was trained to infiltrate, make herself useful, not sit on her heels and wait for things to come to her.
"She didn't have any family." Clint told him after a time of walking in silence. "But a lot of agents knew her. They loved her too. Did you know she pulled ten guys out of a compound in Afghanistan?"
"No, no I didn't."
"Neither did I. They were at the funeral. Wanted to thank her. Wanted to thank me for looking out for her in Baltimore and New York. She was promoted to Level 5 only a few weeks before our mission together. SHIELD wanted to see how far she could go. Wanted another Maria Hill or Melinda May."
"They got another body to bury." Bruce said.
Clint nodded a little to himself.
"Clint?"
He looked over at Bruce.
"I want you to quit SHIELD."
Though he wasn't exactly surprised at the request, he was taken aback at how quickly Bruce said it. "You really want me to leave?"
Bruce's hands were in his pockets as he struggled with the idea himself. As difficult as it was for Clint to imagine himself leaving the organization, for Bruce to be the cause of it was something to muster. "You and I both know something's up. I know it's what you're used to and all . . . But Clint I did watch them try to murder you almost two months ago just because you went deaf. Stick with the team. Just us. Let Cap deal with the suits."
They were quiet for a while as they continued to mosey down the boards. A rally of surfboarders crossed their path heading for the water. A team of miniature dogs in baby carriages were pushed past by their owners. A teenager beneath their feet fed a ten dollar bill between the wooden slats to tempt the wayward passersby to snatch it.
"All right, Bruce." Clint said. "I have a mission left. A team was kidnapped in North Africa and they need me for an extraction. After that, I'll tell Fury myself."
Bruce nodded, satisfied.
The two stopped in front of an old time arcade. The front of house feature was a water gun game. Rainbow colored stuffed monkeys were climbing up pipes in their quest to reach the ceiling the fastest. The ones armed with the water pistols were Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, and Natasha Romanov. Steve was winning.
Bruce looked over at Clint.
"I didn't invite them." Clint said.
"Steve, you are cheating, you have to be!" Natasha grumbled.
Tony ignored his failing attempt at target shooting and instead turned his pistol to Steve's left ear. Despite the attempt at a flagrant foul, Steve still won the game. With half his face soaking wet, the Captain shot out of his seat with his arms held high. "Four in a row! Four games. Tony, you owe me big this time."
Natasha glared at him. "I still think he cheated."
"I'm the one that grew up on carnival games, sweetheart." Steve reminded her.
"And how old does that make you in dog years? Haha! Oh yeah, you're dead." Tony replied. He looked over to the two standing and watching their antics. He smiled but made no move to vacate his seat. "Bruce, fancy meeting you here. You know, this place has a terrible marketing coach on MTV. I haven't seen a single inflatable-breasted, orange, Jersey Shore girl since I've been here." He leaned forward and didn't particularly try hard to whisper, "They don't even pump their own gas here!"
Steve ignored Tony's comments and approached his teammate cautiously. He set a hand on Bruce's shoulder. "We wanted to make sure you were all right. We're not here to drag you back or anything you don't want. But I do have to request the chance to whip carney-boy at the water gun game."
Clint scoffed. "Carney-boy? Steve, I was raised in a circus. If you think a carnival game is going to stand between me and beating you, then you're stuck in the forties, my friend."
"Steve wins one more time, he gets the monkey the size of the Hulk." Natasha said. She evacuated her seat to Clint and took his position beside Bruce. As the boys geared up for round five, she slipped her arm beneath Banner's and interlaced her fingers with his.
"I'm so sorry." She whispered to him.
Bruce nodded a little. "I know."
The overhead bell rang and, suddenly, Steve and Clint were shooting neck and neck for the top of the pole. Their rainbow monkeys climbed their way toward the ceiling. Tony alternated shooting his squirt gun down Steve's shirt and into Clint's eye.
Bruce wasn't sure what he expected when his friends came looking for him. In fact, he was so sure they would never find him he hadn't bothered to think of scenarios of their meeting again. He expected, at some point, he'd overcome his pain of seeing the Tower again without thinking about Helen in his arms as he whispered all the years they would never have together in her ear. He thought he would one day wander his way back and pick up his life where he left off and that would be an end to it. Somehow, and he didn't know exactly why, this was better.
He never saw Natasha's intimate side. It was normally only reserved for Clint in their private moments together. Soft words exchanged or notions passed without ever doing more than looking at one another, that was Natasha and Clint's world together. Standing there, with her pressed next to him like a sister might console her grieving brother, Bruce knew how important he'd become to all their lives.
He was sure Clint had a thousand more things he wanted to say to him, all of them more reasons why he should be blamed for the one good thing in Bruce's life being ripped away from him. Bruce and he would have to come to terms with that together. It would take time. Not all wounds could heal over a single conversation. But this was a start.
Clint took the win. He leaped out of his seat, standing on the water gun counter as he declared his win to the entire world. The soaking wet Steve kicked Tony Stark out of his chair out of spite and, perhaps, a little sadistic humor.
"Come on, old man!" Clint taunted. "Raised in carnivals? I can whip you in any game on this strip."
Tony lifted a finger from his position reclining on the deck. "Might I suggest some Dance Dance Revolution? I would give both of you a thousand dollars to see you do a DDR battle. You can start off on Easy but whoever finishes Paranoia Dreams is the winner!"
Eager to defend their egos and their titles, the two agreed and the search was on to find the game that neither had ever seen or played before. Natasha, being more informed that they were, went on to instruct and assist. Captain America versus Hawkeye on DDR? She was getting that on tape.
Bruce leaned down and offered Tony a hand to help him to his feet. Despite his aversion to being touched, the Avenger accepted the assistance.
"Steve's right, you know." Tony said. It was obvious now his interest in the game was purely a tactic to get himself and Bruce alone together.
"How's that?" Bruce asked.
"We aren't here to force you back."
"Funny, Clint said that too."
Tony nodded. He chewed his bottom lip. Like Clint, it was obvious he had more to say. "You're my friend, Bruce. You lost someone you cared deeply about. But, when you didn't come back, so did I." Tony dropped his eyes away from him to stare at nothing in the distance of the ocean. "It was my idea to come here. I'm sorry if it's not what you wanted. I just needed to make sure you were all right. You didn't leave with anything and you were all Hulked out at the time so I-" Tony leaned over and picked up a duffle bag from the side of the water gun game. He held it out to Bruce.
"Clint didn't check in for the first couple weeks so Natasha, Steve, and I got together and packed you some things we thought you might want. There's some instant food in there, some clothes, a pair of shoes. I took out some cash from your account under my name and I put it in the side pocket." Tony leaned in a little. "And by some I mean like, twenty grand." He leaned away again and cleared his throat. "If you were going to need time we wanted you to be comfortable at least."
Bruce looked down at the bag. He had never known anyone to be so considerate in his entire life. Out of curiosity, he leaned down and pulled the bag open to see what exactly Tony had deemed worthy of Bruce's global walk about. The cash was there, all twenty thousand of it in small, old, non-sequential bills. Beside that were three passports under various pseudonyms no doubt the brain child of Natasha and Tony both. In the main compartment, he found all the clothes he typically wore, a new pair of running shoes in his size, and various articles from the top of his dresser. One was a picture of Helen, the other of Betty.
"Natasha finger printed your room." Tony said as if it was the most common place thing in the world. "We didn't know exactly what you would want most so we just grabbed whatever had the most finger prints on it. You didn't have a picture of . . . her . . . so we took one from the security footage and framed it. Your old shoes had a hole in them. I ordered those online. Should be the same size. JARVIS helped me calculate—"
Bruce grabbed Tony in an uncharacteristic embrace. He patted his back, squeezing hard enough it was difficult for either of them to breathe. It felt both right and uncomfortable on both sides and the sign of affection was quickly over.
"Thank you." Bruce managed to say.
Tony nodded, dropping his sunglasses over his eyes to obscure them from view. "Don't mention it."
"I don't think I'll need it."
Tony nodded. "Good. That's really good."
"Clint gave me the letter from Princeton. I think I'm going to go."
"I think you should too." Tony affirmed. "I always told you getting out would be good for you and they have a great new—"
Bruce put his hand up to stop him. "I know, I know. Clint was just pitching them to me like an Army recruiter."
Tony smiled sadly.
"Clint's quitting SHIELD." Bruce added.
If Tony was shocked, he didn't show it. He only nodded a little. "Ok. I'll find something for him."
Natasha poked out from behind the lines of virtual reality go carts. Bruce was sure this wasn't her suddenly stumbling into their conversation again. Most likely, she'd been standing in wait for their moment to be over. She smiled at them and hiked a thumb back.
"You two are missing out on some epic Steve vs. Clint rivalry right now." She said.
Bruce exchanged a look with Tony and, together, they followed Natasha to find Clint and Steve.
Tony whispered in Bruce's ear. "I'm turning off Clint's hearing aids. Let's see how good carny-boy can dance then."
The duffel bag of memories was over Bruce's shoulder, as carefully packed and planned as when his friends first decided to make it for him. He knew, then, he was making the right decision to go back; to go home.
Rounding the corner of the lines of arcade machines, they came upon the glorious sight of Cap 'Merica himself getting full out jiggy with the shorter Clint Barton. Expert accuracy and precision were working well on the archer's side to keep up with the Captain's rapid movements.
Bruce smiled as he watched. His good memories would always be right there with him, but it was time for Bruce to stop running and hiding. It was time for the Hulk to stop controlling his life and for him to claim a little piece of his humanity back. This was the start of a new life, not only for him but the entire team. How were they going to adjust to his new employment? Or Clint's? There was plenty to stick around for and many new changes and adventures to come.
an that's the end! so this book's timeline is: Lithium Hawkeye, Titanium Hawkeye, Vibranium Hawkeye, The Return to Asgard, Bagel Thursday, Smashed Through the Heart, and then After Asgard. One day I'll make the flow a little more linear in a massive epic .epub file available for download.
Things to look forward to?
Untitled new story:
Characters: Clint Barton, Natasha Romanov, Aaron Barton, Philip Barton, Bull Weatherby, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Bruce Banner, Thor, and Charles "Barney" Barton
Story line: Clint wakes to a world he cannot remember. One in which Natasha is his wife and they live together with their twin sons. Barton's life seems full of all those things he missed from childhood, the loving family, wonderful friends, and beautiful house. The only thing missing? He can no longer shoot his bow due to the horrific injury he suffered at Deathlok's hands. But why can't Clint remember this? Why can't he remember his life here? Are these just the memory lapses Tony says they are, or is there something more here?
Trapped on the outside looking in, Steve must convince Clint that the world he loves is nothing but the drug induced lies spun together by the masterful instruction of none other than Clint's own brother: Charles Barton. Steve must put Clint's life, his real life, back together or risk losing the archer forever.
But what is Charles Barton's play? Once a prominent undercover FBI officer, assumed dead for years, why has he surfaced now only to torture his only living flesh and blood? And why is he so adamant to find the location of the 084 known only as "Kree"
stay tuned folks!