Bite me, freak.

She anchored, narrowed one eye, stared down the arrow on the bow. Her shoulders were locked, strong and unwavering as she took aim and then…she just relaxed. She let her hand relax, the recurve bowstring left her hand, her fingers running under her jaw to land on her shoulder as it recoiled in her hand and the wrist sling caught the bow.

   Curls of steam ascend from his mug.    They lick his chin and fill his nose as    he stands staring out the sliding doors.    The morning sun is just beginning to    claw its way up the horizon, and he takes    a gulp of coffee as he watches Kate.

   After a moment of observation, he slides    the door open and steps outside, into    the chilly hold of winter's morning. He    walks to the well-kept shed in the corner    of the yard and unlatches the lock.

"…I’m not meant to be here, how would they even identify my body never mind trace me back to someone?" Kate asked before she skipped over the idea of him being in prison. Well most Avengers including Kate had been arrested at some time.

"Tch. You're not supposed to be here. Most of me still wants to turn you in. But if you really think people don't already know you're here, you're a bigger idiot than I thought. As far as the Ultimates and SHIELD are concerned, you're an international incident."

He sets the bow case by his seat and walks to the couch. He grabs the remote and jams the 'on' button, clicking through channels quicker than any other eye can follow. He leaves it on the local news.

"...last night where leaked reports suggest that a short but violent gun fight has taken place and Clint Barton, better known as Hawkeye, was seen leaving with an unknown female companion. Reports range from..." A fuzzy video clip of Clint and Kate, probably taken from a phone, fills the screen. "...with eighteen unknown armed men confirmed dead. If you have any information..."

He clicks 'mute'.

"Nick's already going to bust my nuts for getting involved. Luckily for you, he trusts me more than any other man on this planet. He'd rather have you here than with Tony."

He grabs his mug from the kitchen island and moves to the sink. Most of her argument doesn't reach his ears, and with his back to her, she can't the scowl creep across his face. But she can probably imagine it.

Marvel Teases The Ultimates: The End!

Her fingers curled around the bow string across her chest, didn’t matter if she didn’t have arrows, her bow was the one thing that meant the most to her. As long as she had it she knew she was going to be okay. Then some how, he managed to surprise her again. Kate just stood there stunned. Her jaw almost dropped. Well it did but she managed to close it pretty damned fast.

"Are…are you sure?" She asked uneasy with his offer, like at any moment he’s tell her she was kidding and kick her ass out to the kerb. "I mean that’s really…that’s such a nice offer." Kate was genuinely both touched and a little overwhelmed by it. She just nodded, agreeing to the terms. "I promise, I wont."

"It's not nice. It's logical."

He drags the bow case off the countertop and holds it steady at his side. It sits tight in his hand. He holds onto everything more tightly now. He knows now that life has a sick sense of humor, and everything it can give you it can take away quicker.

"You end up dead on the street, they trace it back to me. My job, the Ultimates... they're all I've got left to think about now. And I'm not losing them or going back to the Cube because some ten-year-old girl thinks she can survive all on her own when she so clearly can't."

A pause.

It wasn’t until he spoke something tugged her, no one really knew what to do with her. The surprise crossed her face, followed by the pain, she just stared at him for a moment, tensed up before she forced a smile and laughed. It was hollow as her eyes flickered to the floor and back up again. “Yeah, I don’t think anyones ever really know what to do with me. I’m a pain in the ass apparently.”

The suggestion was solid except it had one fatal flaw…it would likely be the first place her father looked for her. “Yeah, except my Father knows I was there. It will be one of the first places he looks for me.” Kate wasn’t stupid. Okay maybe she wasn’t as grown up as she liked to think she was, and she wore her heart on her sleeve regardless of how much she pretended she didn’t….but she was not an idiot.

His fingers tighten around the bulge of his bicep. He studies her hard. Most of him was hoping she wouldn't think of that, that she'd gleefully part company with him and run back to Tony with all the excitement and naïvety of a long-lost dog.

But it doesn't take a billionaire genius like Tony to know that pushing Kate out the door of a wealthy-looking house guarded from morning to morning by six armed bodyguards and into the street was strategically stupid. 

"Bow's worth shit without arrows."

One by one, his fingers unfurl from his forearm, and he stands forward, tall at his full height. His posture and broad shoulders make him appear taller than he actually is, and the sigh he pushes through his nose swells in his chest.

"You can stay here until we figure something else out.      But this isn't... there's no chances. You screw it up,      you're out. Got that?"

A pause.

He looked sad though and she understood why, halls of this house felt haunted, she could feel their shadows on the empty space, music though the walls, pictures on what would have otherwise been blank pages. They echoed here. Was he punishing himself by staying here? Anyone else would have moved along.

Why would he want some rainy girl and her family problems being dragged in here?

Kate stood up, pulled her bow onto her back, string across her chest as she sipped at her coffee. She wanted to say something, she wanted to say sorry but Kate wasn’t very good at apologies. “I’m sorry…” it was heartfelt, there was no sarcasm, no attitude…just this scared kid cleverly disguised as an adult who had their shit together. Normally people fell for it, she was a good liar but she was sure he’d never really bought it.

"I was, really out of line last night….and I said some really hurtful things that you really didn’t deserve…and I’m really sorry."

             [       CLASSIFIED                CAPT. CLINT BARTON                CC: GEN. NICHOLAS FURY   ]

He peels the glasses from his nose and looks at her. His eyes are strong, a near unnatural blue. Even if she doesn't know that they can stare at the sun for hours unblinking, trace the slightest movement of a gnat's wing at any distance, or track a single raindrop through the storm, the strength of his gaze reveals it.

"Doesn't matter. Words are just talk."

He drops off the barstool with envelope in hand and slides it into a rain-retardant sleeve. He carefully packages the folder up in the inside pocket of his dust-tight bow case and clicks it shut. He turns around with arms folded, hip tucked against the countertop's edge.

The sound of his morning routine didn’t even rouse her and normally the slightest sound would have had her up and bow drawn. Maybe she just felt a little safe here, sure she might not get on with the man but she’d never met someone quite with his skill set. She was still asleep, one arm laced though her bow, pulled close to her body as eyes blinked open. She could smell coffee, her eyes flickered open, bright blue irises contracting and relaxing to focus on the cup on the table.

No sugar, no milk, the coffee is black and bitter. Clint doesn't mind. It's been so long since he's had a taste of anything good or sweet, he doubts he'd even recognize its scent.

Outside the sun creeps hot over the horizon. A fresh breeze rattles the trees, and the swing set creaks as it wobbles in the wind. Mornings used to be his favorite time of the day. Callum and Lewis would paw at his leg, beg to play on that swing set, just for a minute, before they had to leave for school and he for work. The rushed goodbyes, the quick kiss from Laura as she balanced Nicole on her hip and lunch bags in her hand, mornings made the rest of the day worth it.

     Now there's nothing.

She didn’t know what to do, how to cope with him, how to help him. Kate was going to tell him all of that, then he gave her an ultimatum. Get out by morning. That was hard considering that she had nowhere else to go. Kate watched him go to the stairs, she cleaned up as quietly as she could, she felt the need to and then just sat on his couch in silence for what felt like an eternity.

At the foot of the stairs, he sees Kate frozen, asleep, on his couch, and a scowl fills his face. He lets it pass and moves to the kitchen, where he puts on a pot of fresh coffee. He plucks open the fridge that used to be so full of home-cooked leftovers and sugary drinks and lunchboxes-- but now looks empty in comparison. He grabs an apple. 

"Let’s me tell you something, Clint. Who killed your family? Your fucking partner. Not us, superheroes. Why do you blame us for something we didn’t do it, HUH? And I’ll tell something more… respect is missing in your vocabulary since your family died. What would you think if your wife began to treat everybody like shit after your murder? What about your kids? Would you like to see them mistreating people like you do now? YES, we have rules. YES, they have to be followed. YES, YOU’RE NOT A SPOILED KID. So give us a favor, and start to act like a damn adult now.”

"That's goddamn bullshit and you know it!      They killed my family to get information on      you! On superheroes. On the Ultimates.      The least they could've done is finish the job!" 

Spit slurs his speech. His shoulders wobble as his chest heaves, pounding fast, to catch his breath. His calloused fingers curl into a fist, and he wants more than anything to bury it in Steve's jaw, to give in to adrenaline, to throw the first punch. Instead he digs his fingernails into his palm and grinds his teeth.

He can't beat Steve in a fair fight. But he can wonder: what good is a super-soldier without his eyes?

The anger oddly was something she was used to, smashing of glass and the yelling reminded her strangely of her own father. How he would yell and throw stuff off his desk when a deal went south and how it was thrown out into the world instead of directed at someone…or something constructive.

Maybe the explosion of emotion was healthy in some weird way? It was hard not to take personally, but she stood there and she took it, she didn’t flinch…in fact she didn’t show much of anything.

"Good!" Kate snapped back, oh here they were fighting again, her face betrayed her, there was energy in her voice again. "You stand there and you claim not to give a shit about anything, that you don’t care, and here you are angry and upset, yelling and throwing things around. So stop trying to be something you’re not." Oh now she was playing with fire, part of her honestly thought he was about to turn around and kill her.

It's a mess that will be left to one of his bodyguards, left to be swept up in a dust pan and disposed of in the trash; always either bared or swept away. There's not enough time to sort through the pieces, not enough time to put them back together. Time will never heal his wounds.

His anger is usurped by silence. Steady. Cold. Professional. The emotion dulls from his gaze.

"You're right. The world doesn't need men like me.      But I figure with all the death we've been soaked in,      killing myself isn't going to solve anything. But      maybe I'm wrong."

He shakes a mizzle of glass specks from his hand and turns to the stairs.

"Hey, I am pretty grown up! I’m only fifteen and my best friend is Spider–

That attracts his attention like honey does bees.