It was a terrible thought that kept running through your head. Sure, staring at a casket for the last hour had been messing with your mind, and you were an emotional wreck, but you couldn't allow that to be an excuse for the repetitive mantra that wouldn't give you even a moment of reprieve.

Why couldn't it have been the other one?

Why did it have to be the brother who worked for SHIELD and not the brother who worked for HYDRA? It had crossed your mind more than a few times during the service that it easily could have been one brother who murdered the other, but you may never know for sure. You silently cursed them both for putting you in this position, leaving you without any other family to help, and now you were left with the brother you despised and ultimately feared to try to take control of your life. You knew it was just a matter of time.

"You okay?"

Clint's voice jarred you from your thoughts, his hand on your shoulder but not giving you the comfort you needed. "Always," you replied in a broken whisper. "Not much else for choices, is there?"

"Yeah, there are choices. You can cry, you know? It's okay."

"Don't want to." You shrugged his hand away and turned, searching for your guest but not seeing him readily. "Have you seen Pete?"

"Stark hauled him off somewhere. They were throwing big tech words at each other and I lost interest. It's like he has a new pet or something."

"That's just perfect," you mumbled under your breath, reaching into your bag to retrieve your phone, hoping that you could pull Spider-Boy away from Iron Man long enough to get him to take you home. "I just want to get out of here, and he's my ride."

Clint turned and waved his hands in front of you, tipping his head to try to get your eye contact, "um, hello? I could take you home. I do know how to drive, and happen to have a car right over there." He pointed his thumb back and behind him with a faint smile, waiting patiently for you to decide if you would take him up on the offer.

"Yeah, okay, thanks. I suppose if he's gonna bail on me at my own brother's funeral, he can't rely on me to save him from Tony."

It was an unexpected comfort when Clint's hand slid into yours, gripping it tightly to lead you away. Something about the gentleness behind his hold, or maybe it was the knowing silence as he walked at your side, or it could have been the understanding in his eyes when you finally looked at him, but your emotions suddenly got the best of you and you started to break.

"Oh, hey, (Y/N), come here," he said quietly, stopping and turning to bring you closer and wrapping his arms around you. "You're not alone, okay? You know that I'm not going anywhere."

"I've heard that before," you panted between cries, "and look where we are."

"Okay, so my timing sucks, but I still mean it. I'm never going to let him come for you, and if he tries, I happen to know a pretty tough group of people that he'll have to get through. Besides, I think I have a plan."

~~~

"Do you think he'll show up?"

"Clint's lawyer said that he sent a notice, and if he doesn't then there's nothing to stop us." You grabbed your phone and scrolled through the latest messages from Clint as you waited for Peter to put on his shoes, painstakingly tying each one with slow precision that made you want to scream at him to move faster. You were ready to get this day over with, and he was just making it drag on. "We could switch you to Velcro shoes if that would speed things up..."

"No need to get snippy, (Y/N). I'm nervous too."

"I'm not nervous," you sighed, dropping your phone into your bag, "I just want to get life back to normal, you know? As normal as it's ever gonna be, anyway. Clint's taking a big risk with trying to get this adoption to go through, just to keep the evil brother off my back."

He finally secured his last shoe and stood, holding one up with a prideful smirk and a quiet chuckle, "am I to your satisfaction? Presentable in public?"

"Anything is better than the onesie."

"I'm never going to live that down, am I?" he grumbled quietly, pushing his hands into his pockets but angling his elbow out for you to take his arm. "Just think, if this all works out, you get to live at the compound with everyone. That would be so cool! Hey, are you gonna call Barton 'dad'? You gonna change your name?"

"Yes, it's very cool. No, that's weird. And...we haven't really talked about that yet."

"I think it sounds great, (Y/N) Barton. No one would ever mess with you. I mean...no one messes with you now...but with that name then for sure..." he backpedaled, running a nervous hand through his hair, lowering it to shakily open the door when he realized that there was no good way out of the hole he had dug for himself. "I'll never mess with you, we know that much, right?"

~~~

Stepping into the dark but sparsely decorated courtroom would have been much more daunting had it not been for the full row of Avengers sitting in the back, watching anxiously but with supportive smiles and waves directed your way. They could be about to become the strangest group of surrogate aunts and uncles ever thrown together, but you'd take it. Each of them had become the closest thing to a family that you and your brother had after he joined SHIELD, giving you a stable home while he was gone on lengthy missions.

They had all been through a long day of interviews and questions about you and about Clint, trying to prove that he would be able to give you a secure home; with your other brother still at work, the risk of HYDRA coming after you was too real. Even after the endless inquiry, each of them still looked energetic and eager to take you home.

"Once that gavel hits, it's done," Clint whispered in your ear, leading you to a seat next to him. "No one has seen him yet. Nick has guards at every entrance."

"You realize that you just jinxed this whole thing, right?"

"How about just a little optimism, huh? The fact that this group convinced them that we could be a stable family is a miracle in itself."

"Please rise." The court officer called for silence as the judge entered; she looked stern and very focused, but when her gaze drifted to you, a gentle smile crossed her lips and you swore you caught a quick wink as she took her seat.

"I have everything here," she began, "and it looks like all of the necessary papers are complete. I have background checks and character interviews, which I must say are some of the most entertaining that I've read in my career."

You heard someone chuckle behind you, only assuming that it was Tony, and you made a mental note to ask each one of them later for details on what they had said about Clint. It would make for a wonderful first-time family dinner conversation.

"Unless anyone can offer any final objections," the judge paused, holding up her gavel. You watched it intently and the sounds around you disappeared. It was the only thing you could focus on, holding your breath until you saw it connect with its target. "Then congratulations, Mr. Barton. It's a girl."

The team laughed openly and with relief at the sound of the gavel strike, and Clint's arms were immediately around you, lifting you from the ground in his excitement. He would be able to protect you now, and there was nothing that your brother could do about it. You could finally go on with an attempt at a normal life again.

The gentle creak of the door quieted the room, and you turned, gasping at the sight of the man you had just removed from your life. Clint still had a hold of your hand, but released it to take a step in front of you to create a barrier so that you didn't have to so much as look at the guy.

"Sorry, you're about thirty seconds too late," Clint announced. "Feel free to turn right around and be on your way."

The team stood to attention, with Steve at the head of the line looking as authoritative as he could, glancing back at Peter to fall in line with a nod of his head. He didn't have his shield, Tony didn't bring a suit, and none of them were armed. In retrospect, Steve was realizing that he had made a significant error.

Your brother broke his contact with Clint, looking at you with a dark smile just as the lights went out and you felt a cold hand over your mouth.

Part 2

When you woke, everything was a blur and everything hurt. Your head was spinning, and when you tried to stand, your legs buckled beneath you to drop you into a heap on the hard tile floor. It didn't register immediately that there were no sounds around you; the courtroom was silent and still. The stab of fear at the realization should have frozen you in place, but the surge of adrenaline to find Clint and the rest of the team broke through. It took a few seconds for your eyes to adjust to the change in light, but when they did, you screamed at what you saw before you.

Everyone was dead.

"You need to stay quiet." The voice was ominous, but familiar, and it didn't belong to your brother as you would have expected. This was much more terrifying than anything he could do to you.

"Bucky, what did you do?"

"I said, quiet."

"Bucky, whatever they've done to you, you need to snap out of it. This isn't you."

His fingers wrapped around your hair and pulled you up to stand at his side as you screamed in pain, but making the scene in front of you that much more clear. Clint was at your feet, his hand still extended in a reach for you. The rest of the team were scattered, looking as if they were ambushed and had no chance to put up any kind of fight to protect themselves. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to turn away, but Bucky held you in place and refused to allow it.

"Look at them."

"Bucky...please..."

"Open your eyes, (Y/N), or I'll open them for you."

Tears ran freely as your lids parted, stinging against the heat building in your cheeks. Your brother soon took his place at your other side, leaning in with his hot breath against your neck, though it sent a cold chill down your spine. You weren't sure if it was his body so close to yours, or if it was the words spoken that created the most fear, but either way, you were certain that the life you knew was over.

"Hail HYDRA."

~~~

Not long after you had been taken, Clint finally woke to a searing headache and a wave of nausea that overtook him in violent fashion, leaving him retching and heaving with gasping breaths, struggling to get his composure to try to find you. The sounds around him were frantic and loud, with voices mixing together until he could barely distinguish who was who anymore. It all became a very loud and very disturbing blur that he just needed to stop.

Steve had awoken first, working his way through each team member to shake them to consciousness in a full panic about what had just happened. Tony was already working with FRIDAY to try to track you, with Peter at his side creating equations for search patterns. Wanda was doing her best to search with the reaches of her mind, but she had woken much the same as Clint had and was only barely recovered. When Steve saw that Clint had finally come to, he hurried to his side as much as the crippling vertigo that he felt would let him, stumbling slightly with each step.

"Barton," Steve groaned, holding his head and dropping down at his side, "what did you see? Where's (Y/N)?"

Clint held up a finger to stop him, closing his eyes and focusing on slowing his breathing to quiet his stomach. They remained closed as he spoke, desperately trying to keep his concentration. "I didn't see anything. It just all went dark, and then I woke up puking on myself."

"Cap!"

"Yeah, Sam? You got something?"

"It's more about what I don't have, actually," he replied, jogging up next to the Captain with a solemn expression and a paleness in his face. "No one knows where Bucky is."

~~~

"Is the blindfold really necessary? You're gonna brainwash me anyway, right? That's the HYDRA way that we all know and hate so well."

"Stop talking," Bucky replied sternly in the seat next to yours. "You'll be told what you need to know."

The vehicle jostled and swerved a few times, tipping you in your seat to bump against him, but he straightened in response and pushed you away. When you were taken from the courthouse it was turning to dusk, and with the lack of any light peeking in around the sides of the cloth covering your eyes, you had lost all sense of time.

"Can you at least tell me if they're all dead, Buck? Do you have any decency left in you to do that for me?"

He sat silently, staring straight ahead without so much as a twitch of response and even though you couldn't see him, you could feel the chill in the air surrounding you both. A few moments passed without so much as a movement from him until the car came to an abrupt stop, his metal arm jutting out across to hold you from hitting the seat in front of you.

"I've got...you..." he started, but quickly trailed away when he realized his error.

"What did you say?" you whispered, your heart beginning to race that the Bucky you knew was still in there somewhere. You heard a hint of his voice in those three words; not this harsh and abrupt version of him, but the friendly and protective version that you wished was at your side right now.

"Get up."

And just like that, he was gone.

~~~

"FRIDAY, get me into the courthouse surveillance," Tony commanded, sighing heavily and leaning back against the hard wooden bench that offered no comfort for his aching muscles. He rubbed his hand across his fatigued eyes and up into his hair, trying to be patient but failing miserably. "Let's just hope that they were too stupid to cut the video before they showed up."

With a few swipes of his thumb over the face of his watch, the screen grew larger in front of him, allowing Steve, Clint and Sam to see the images pass by with him. It started with the team and Clint arriving before you, showing nothing of interest anywhere in the frame that might have signaled an attack was coming.

"Take it forward twenty minutes."

The images shifted to you entering the room and standing next to Clint, then the judge entering to give her decision, followed by the celebration and finally the arrival of your brother at the door. Clint sucked in a deep breath through tightly clenched teeth at the sight of him, feeling his anxiety building as he watched the events that he lived unfold again before his eyes. He was about to see what happened to you, and in the moment he wasn't sure if he wanted to watch. Before the option to close his eyes came, the four men held their collective breath at a clear image on the screen.

"You guys saw that, right?" Sam whispered, looking to Steve for a reaction and verification of the silver glimmer that appeared behind you just before it all went dark. "Please tell me you saw what I did."

"It was him," Steve nodded, leaning his head back and closing his eyes in disbelief, turning to walk away. He crossed the courtroom slowly and methodically, running the scenarios through his mind as to what happened to his friend, when they could have gotten to him, and how he didn't even know. The self-doubt and blame crept into his thoughts, and he took a long, final stride forward, thrusting his fist through the wall in a rage.

~~~

"Comply, (Y/N)."

"No...I won't..."

"You're only making this difficult for yourself," Bucky said quietly. "It's just a matter of time before we succeed and you can take your rightful place."

"You can take my rightful place and shove it up your ass."

Bucky stood with a loud exhalation and a scowl, turning to look to your brother, who had decided that maybe his involvement was necessary after all, and that using Bucky to convince you wouldn't be enough. He had risked a great deal to bring the soldier out of him for this, and failure wasn't an option.

"I didn't enjoy killing our brother, you know," he began. "He looked me in the eye though, and faced his death as honorably as a SHIELD agent could, which isn't saying much. He spoke of you too, did you know that?"

You turned away as he moved closer, but the same cold metal hand that had choked you into unconsciousness was on your face again now, grabbing your chin and yanking it to face your brother. "Don't look away when you're being spoken to," Bucky warned coolly.

"He told me to take care of you. Right before I ran my knife through his chest. I looked him in the eye and promised to do my best to give you the life you deserved. And that's exactly what I'm doing, (Y/N). You deserve everything that's coming to you."

With a hiss, you pursed your lips and spit in his face, feeling an uncontrollable rage building in your chest and nothing but contempt for a man that you no longer called your family. Clint was your family. The Avengers were your family. But now they were gone, leaving you with a shell of the man that Bucky used to be and nothing to lose. You decided in that moment that you would rather die before giving in.

"Soldier," he sneered, wiping his face with his sleeve and looking at you with a fire in his eyes. "Break her."

Part 3

When Wanda had an almost certain response to her search for you, the group was thrust into action despite the lingering illnesses that still had ahold of them after being drugged by your brother and his HYDRA team. Clint and Steve were leading the way, trying to coordinate and organize, but they could only focus on moving and everyone else seemed as if they were crawling behind them. The two men were visibly agitated and anxious, and ready to go. If Wanda believed that she had located you, then it was good enough for them.

"Barton," Steve whispered, tipping his head to the side to lead his teammate away from the group, "suit up and meet me in the hangar in ten. I'm not waiting any more."

"I like how you think, Cap," he agreed readily, turning to jog towards his room with rapid steps and a renewed sense of energy. "Don't you dare leave without me."

~~~

"Get up, (Y/N)," Bucky commanded flatly as he stood over you, waiting for you to wipe the blood from your cracked lip before he tried to strike at you again. He was being generous with you, and you knew that if you tried to take advantage of it, the punishment would be so much more excruciating than the pain you were already in.

"How did they do it?" you panted, pushing your palms to the floor to get onto your knees. You paused to take a few deep breaths before forcing your aching muscles to stand. "How did they get in your head? I thought that the Winter Soldier was nothing more than a memory."

"Defend yourself."

Bucky lunged forward too fast for you to fully react, wrapping his arm around your neck and positioning himself behind you to squeeze the air from your throat. You slapped at him a few times, but he was far too strong so you relented, dropping your hands to your sides in denial of what he wanted.

"Don't you...remember...who you are?" you gasped. "And Steve..."

His arm pulled back and away from you as if you were fire burning his skin, rushing around you with an angry growl in his throat as he spoke, "don't say that name here. Not in front of me, do you understand?"

"What name? Steve Rogers?" you goaded. "Your best friend? Captain America? That one? Your pal to the end of the line?"

"Shut up!"

His hand shot forward and towards your face, but you were just fast enough to deflect it, raising your arm in front of yourself to block him, much to his surprise. You stood motionless together, staring at each other with your arms still held in the air and still connected. The rage slowly dissolved away and he lowered first, but he didn't break his stare. You could see that he was struggling with the familiarity of you; his mind wanted to allow you in, but his programming was too strong.

"He'll come for you, Buck."

"Then I'll stop him."

"They'll come for me too."

"Then you will stop them."

Bucky straightened his spine and dropped back, securing his stance with his metal arm raised slightly before him. His directions were clear; he was to turn you into the next soldier to fight at his side, even if that meant destroying you first. Some of the greatest successes have been built from nothing, and the two of you would be that for HYDRA under the direction of your brother. With a wide swing and a flash of silver, the shining hand connected with your face and his leg twisted around yours, dropping you with a hard slap to the ground.

"Get up. Again."

The metallic taste of blood filled your mouth quickly; you turned away from him to spit it out, spraying it across the mat, but only more came in its place. You could feel the swelling in your cheek immediately, and the deep ache that came with the bruising that was sure to already be visible. Gently running your fingers over your cheekbone, you felt the crack within it and hissed at the stinging pain that radiated into your jaw with each touch.

"You son of a bitch," you finally snapped, standing readily with your fists tightly clenched in front of you. You didn't want to fight Bucky, because this man wasn't really him, but this was too much. A fast spin to thrust your foot into his throat, followed swiftly by a fist into his groin effectively toppled him to the floor. He coughed a few times and rolled to his side, looking up at you in shock and with pain in his eyes that almost had you apologizing to the man who should be your friend, but he had crossed the line.

"I have prom in three weeks."

~~~

"They're tracking us," Clint announced while Steve changed into his uniform at the back of the quinjet, "but we expected that, right?"

"Right. We can use the help, so let them track. I just got sick of waiting around for them to get off their asses." He snapped the final buckle of his belt and hurried to slip his feet into his boots so that he could take over the controls for Clint to do the same. "Let's switch out. Your turn."

A few quick flips of his fingers over the colorful panel in front of him and he nodded silently, turning the seat to vacate it for Steve so he could take his turn to prepare. It was only a couple of steps to reach his pack, but his body felt as if he had just walked for days, and his legs wouldn't continue. Clint dropped onto the bench with a loud groan and leaned forward, resting his head in his hands; the last moment with you was frozen in his memory and was carrying him through, but even he could handle only so much. You were his responsibility, and the crushing weight of his failure was defeating him before he even had the chance to fight anyone.

"You alright?"

"Yeah," Clint replied quietly, "yeah, I just need to get my head right." He took a deep breath and stood again, grabbing his gear to begin the change into his own uniform. "I've never had someone counting on me like this before, and I can't mess this up. Every minute that goes by is a minute that I could have been too late."

"She's tougher than you're giving her credit for, Clint. She might just surprise you." Steve glanced over his shoulder with a smirk and a glimmer of pride in his eyes that wasn't lost on his teammate. Clint stopped, standing now with only his shirt on and one pant leg raised, staring at the Captain expectantly.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning you shouldn't count her out on being able to take care of herself, is all."

"No," he pressed, "you know something. Cap, she's my daughter now, and I have the right to know what's going on." Hurrying to pull the other leg on and teetering on one foot to put his socks and boots on, he waited for the answer for what felt like ages before Steve finally spoke again.

"Now, don't get upset-"

"Then don't give me a reason to."

Steve slowly turned the seat to face Clint, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back thoughtfully. He wasn't sure if this was something that he should be telling for you, but with the look that Clint was giving him right now, he worried for his own safety if he didn't.

"She came to me about three months ago, asking to help her train. Bucky and I have been getting her ready-"

"Woah, hold on, let me stop you right there," Clint interrupted, stepping forward to close the gap between them and looking down at Steve. "I don't want her on the team, Cap. No way. This is way to dangerous for a kid her age, and I won't let her do it."

"She's not exactly a kid anymore, Clint."

"I don't care. She's always going to be my kid now, no matter how old she is, and that's all that matters here." He turned away and continued putting on his uniform, no longer facing Steve in an attempt at control and finality of his decision. He refused to engage in any further conversation about it, and was already planning the speech he would give you about it when you were finally safe again.

"Barton, listen-"

"Just fly the damn plane, Steve. The answer is no." He sat on the bench heavily again, feeling the weight of fatigue holding him down. Taking his quiver in hand, he counted his arrows once, then again, and finally a third time, doing anything he could to keep his mind occupied from his intense fear at what he and Steve would be walking into. Clint wasn't afraid of the fight; he wasn't even afraid to die when that day came. The one thing that scared him the most now is that he would find you brainwashed into a Captain America and Winter Soldier trained HYDRA assassin, and that he would be the one to stop you. He didn't know if he was strong enough to look you in the eyes and take that shot.

"If they're going to turn her against us, you've already done most of the work for them, Cap."

The hope and pride had almost immediately faded from Steve's eyes at Clint's revelation, coupled with the realization that you were with Bucky; if he was in soldier mode, he could know your skills and would use them for your brother's advantage. Steve suddenly realized that he and Clint were walking into a situation where they may have to end the two most important people in either of their lives.

~~~

From his position at your feet, Bucky grabbed your leg and pulled it from beneath you to slam you to the ground with a hard bounce of your head against the floor. He scurried to stand over you with a foot on either side of your hips, reaching down to take a handful of your shirt to lift you to him, his face now only inches from yours.

"Again."

Taking advantage of the moment and proximity, you thrust your head forward to connect with his jaw, knocking him off balance enough to release you, but your head was pounding now more than ever. Your vision was hazy and the lights of the room burned your eyes, but you held your position, standing to accept his retaliation.

"If this is the result I get, I should piss you off more often," Bucky smiled without any real emotion to it. He wiped a few small drops of blood from his lip and licked it from his fingers. "This is a good start, (Y/N)."

"This isn't training, Buck," you snapped. "I'm getting out of here, and I'll go through you if I have to."

"What makes you so sure of that?"

"Because I'm a Barton now. And if I've learned anything about what that means, it's that we don't know when to quit."

"Oh, please," your brother added, standing in the doorway watching you intently, "you're not a Barton. That's just a formality to keep you away from me, and look at what a remarkable success that was! If this is being a Barton, then sister, you really took a step down."

With a sense of power and resolve that came from somewhere inside, you took a few long strides to stand before him, doing your best to maintain a sense of confidence despite the tremor you could feel taking over your body. "There's nothing in all of creation that could be any lower than you, brother. I've had shit on the bottom of my shoe that meant more to me than you."

His arm pulled back and his hand slammed into your cheek, the same one that Bucky had just broken, throwing you against the wall with an agonizing hit that knocked the breath from your chest. Pain gripped you and wouldn't allow you take a breath, and you could feel the panic begin to rise as your heart pounded frantically.

"Don't you ever speak to me like that again," he spat, reaching down for your arm and yanking you up to stand. You still couldn't breathe, but it made no difference; your panic told you that this was your end. "You will learn respect, (Y/N). That's always been a weakness of yours, hasn't it? Hmm?" He leaned down to meet your eyes, smiling at the fear in them, "well those days are going to change."

"I'm a Barton," you gasped again, finally feeling a rush of air into your lungs. "And I'm an Avenger. You're already dead to me, so this is just a formality."

"You actually think that you're going to win?" His voice dropped to barely a whisper, though it's tone was cold and ominous. A clenched fist drew back and you braced yourself for the hit, squeezing your eyes closed knowing that you had no room to evade it. When the impact didn't come, you opened your eyes to see a metal fist encompassing your brother's and a pained look growing in his expression.

"If you touch her again, you'll be praying for me to kill you faster."

"Stand down, soldier," he replied, barely able to speak above the sound of the crushing bones of his hand. "Stand...down..."

Your friend looked at you briefly as he leaned in closer, his eyes filled with rage, and you knew that your miserable excuse for a brother had only seconds left. "My name is Bucky."

~~~

Steve and Clint stood in the open jet door, gathering their gear, slinging the shield and quiver onto their backs, respectively. A gold and pink haze of sunset was on the horizon, and darkness was setting in; not knowing for sure if you were here, they hoped to make a silent entrance and the lack of light would only help them. The two men stepped out onto the muddy ground, Clint frowning down at his shoes as they stuck in the saturated surface while Steve closed the door behind him. With nothing more than a nod, they began to make their way towards the coordinates that Wanda had given them with the hope that she was right and that you wouldn't have to wait any longer.

"Did you hear that?" Clint whispered harshly. "Was that a person?"

"I want to say...yes?" Steve replied questioningly, not entirely convinced. "Sounded kinda like a scream, right?"

Their pace quickened, fighting to keep their footing on the slick ground that caught their shoes with each step. A light rain was still falling, glistening off of their uniforms and wetting their hair just enough to fall into their eyes as they moved. The bunker that they believed to be holding you came into sight as they crossed over a small ridge, but before advancing any further, Steve grabbed Clint's arm to turn him in his direction.

"Barton, before we go in there, I need you to promise me something."

"I won't kill him, Cap. I can take him down with an arrow to the knee just as easily as through his eye."

"That's disturbing," Steve whispered, looking slightly terrified at the vision that Clint had just created in his mind. "But yeah, knee sounds fine, let's stick with that."

The pair arrived at what looked to be the door of the bunker quickly; Steve raised his scanner to it, but only got static and interference in return. "Stupid Stark tech..." he mumbled under his breath, giving the instrument a few hard slaps with his hand before trying again. When the result was the same, he returned it to his belt with an exasperated huff. "Alright, we do this old school."

"Okay, but how old school are we talking here, Cap? I wasn't around for how you guys did this in the 40's, so you might need to teach me-"

Steve stared at Clint indignantly and thrust his foot out, kicking the door open with ease and not a care as to the volume from it that was echoing into the hallways. Two guards ran from around each corner, but Steve was ready, taking them both out with two strikes of the shield.

"Any questions?"

"Yeah, what the hell took you so long, ya punk?"

"Buck?" Steve asked cautiously, holding his hand out to stop Clint from advancing when he saw him draw back an arrow in his periphery. "Which Bucky am I talking to?"

"The one who really wants to get the hell outta here before more of these guys show up."

"Where's (Y/N)?" Clint demanded, his voice filled with fear. He gasped a pained breath when he saw you, running into the room with blood on your hands and clothing, and the darkened, swollen bruise on your face.

"We're all clear here," you announced to Bucky as you entered, not seeing Clint or Steve right away. "Gross, when did I do this?" You wiped your hands across your jeans in complete disgust, realizing that you had the blood of at least five different men on them.

"Buck, we really need to work on cleaner ways of killing people."

The realization that there were two more people in the room than you had expected hit you, and you felt tears building in your eyes immediately; seeing Steve and Clint alive and right in front of you was something that you thought you'd never see again.

"You're alive? I thought you were dead! The last time I saw you..." your voice faded and cracked, finally overcome with relief and pure exhaustion now that you could begin to feel safe again with the three of them there.

"Oh my god," Clint sighed and ran to you, throwing his arms around you so forcefully that he almost tumbled you both to the ground, "(Y/N), are you okay? I've been terrified out of my mind...oh, honey, look at your face," he whispered, pulling back to take your chin in his hand and turning your head side-to-side. "How did that happen?"

Bucky knew what he had done, even though he wasn't in his right mind when he had done it. He remembered screaming inside his own mind to stop his arm but not being able to, and the pain of that moment crossed his expression as he spoke; he wouldn't deny his responsibility.

"That was me."

"Clint!" Steve hollered, trying to grab him when he released you and spun towards Bucky with a fist raised and ready to connect. You winced at the sound when Clint's hand struck him, but not for Bucky; he barely moved from the impact, leaving Barton whimpering in a pain that shot up his arm as he tried to shake it away to no success.

"You've gotta go for the throat, Clint," you smiled, reaching out to take and inspect his hand. "That and a punch to the package had him on the ground in a second."

"You took down the Winter Soldier?"

"Thanks for that vote of confidence, Cap," you snickered, "but can we talk about this later? I think Buck's right and we should be going before the next wave shows up." Keeping Clint's hand in yours, you followed the group back to the jet, but once you had arrived, he turned to wrap his arms around you one more time before strapping into his seat.

"I was really scared, (Y/N). I thought I had already lost you," he sniffled quietly. "I thought I had failed you."

"Hey, come on. Like I told my brother, I'm a Barton, right? From the stories Nat's told me, they can't get rid of us that easily."

~~~

Three weeks later

"Hello again, Mr. Barton," Peter greeted quietly with a faint squeak of nervous terror in his voice, "how are you this evening?"

"Cut the act, Parker. I have a few questions before you're allowed to even look at (Y/N)."

"Sir...yes, of course...absolutely," he stammered in reply, his eyes darting from Clint and to the bow and arrow that was resting in his hands. "But...um...is that really necessary? I mean, you wouldn't really shoot me...right?"

"Are you going to give me a reason?"

"No...no sir, definitely not."

"Dad, be nice to Pete! And put your stupid bow away!" you yelled down from your room a floor above. "Don't think that you're getting away with anything!"

Pete shuffled his feet back and forth quietly, glancing down at them as they moved between looks up at Clint just to be sure that the archer wasn't aiming his way. He had been so nervous about this moment since the day Clint adopted you, and now that it was here he had no idea what to say or do, and he felt like anything would only make it worse.

"She's calling you 'dad' now? That must be weird, huh?"

"Why would that be weird?"

"Because...um, well...I guess..." he stopped, dropping his hands to his sides, "I don't know. I suppose it isn't. I just didn't know what else to say."

"You don't have to say anything other than to answer my questions." Clint dropped into a chair in the compound's foyer, pointing for Peter to do the same. He waited patiently for his target to take a seat and settle in, but he wasn't about to let him get comfortable. "Now, first, are you a virgin?"

"Excuse me?"

"If so, do you think that you'll try to change that tonight?"

"Okay, hold on...Mr. Barton, look...I don't think-"

"It's two simple yes or no questions, Mr. Parker. I don't see the need to hesitate." Clint interrupted plainly, tapping a pen incessantly on his knee, only making Peter's nerves exacerbated with each hit.

"Um...okay, what's happening? I wouldn't-"

"Yes. Or. No."

"No? Honestly, Mr. Barton, sir...I...I can't remember how you phrased the question."

"Come on, Clint, give the kid a break," Tony interrupted, walking up behind a shaking Pete with a supportive hand on his shoulder. "He's probably the safest date you could ask for, and he's smart enough to know better than to cross any of us. Ain't that right, junior?"

"Yes, Mr. Stark, absolutely! I wouldn't think of it, I swear!"

"Atta boy."

"Hmm," Clint scoffed, still looking at Peter cautiously with a sideways glare. "We'll see. I'll go get her for you."

Peter's shoulders visibly relaxed and he let out the breath he had been holding, standing and giving Clint a tiny wave of thanks as he passed by. "Jeez, Mr. Stark, thank you. I was really messing that up."

"I could tell," Tony smiled, tightening his grip on Peter's shoulder enough to elicit a wince from the young man. "But I can also tell you this," he lowered his voice and pulled him in close, "if anything happens to even one hair on that girl's head, you're gonna answer to me first, and I've got considerably more resources than Barton."

"Yes, sir," his voice cracked with a hard swallow, but his skin paled slightly as his mind began to race, taking into full consideration what Tony had just said. "Wait...first?"

Without another word, Tony took a step behind Peter and took both shoulders in hand, turning him towards an overlooking platform from the level above. Each member of the team was lined along the railing to watch you leave, but since you hadn't arrived yet, their expressions were stern and unyielding, sending a cold fear through your date. Steve and Bucky were particularly intimidating, standing firm with crossed arms and never breaking their line of sight. Tony felt the tremble began to start again beneath his hands, and knew that they had sufficiently made their point when he heard just the hint of a whisper from his new protégée.

"I'll tell Mr. Barton anything he wants to know."