The new Avengers movie- sdfghsgnshabn. I literally JUST watched it. Words can't express my joy at watching it (and seeing Hawkeye and Black Widow together for like all of five minutes...).

I wrote this fic exploring what might have happened after the battle- where would they have gone? Would both of them have ended up together? Or, like the comic book verse, would they have ended up going separate ways? I tried. I should warn you, I know next to nothing about these Marvel characters, save what I dug up from Google and Wikipedia. But I tried. Um.. brownies for me..?

I hope you enjoy! If not, let me know so I know what to improve on. I'm serious. If it's constructive criticism I would LOVE to hear it.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. not even extensive knowledge about any of the following characters.

In all seriousness, he should not have been there when the bomb hit.

It was a fluke shot, something that should never have happened. It was only supposed to be a routine patrol, a stroll around the perimeter of the factory while the S.H.I.E.L.D agents swarmed the factory. He was only there to make sure that nobody was ambushing the agents.

How was Clint supposed to know that he was the target for ambush?

When the first bomb hit, Clint's first sense was to help those who were hurt. The agents who were trapped in the building- his first priority. But when he turned to go to their aid- those screams for help would haunt him if he didn't- he ran right into the trap. The bomb in the car by the entrance exploded.

The last thing he saw was a blinding flash of white before everything faded to cool, passive black.

..

The next time he regained consciousness, he was in the hospital room.

Clint never liked hospitals. They were too cold, too sterile, too artificial. He lived for the outdoors, the field, the missions S.H.I.E.L.D routinely sent him on. He liked being free; not being caged in a room where there were too many people hovering, poking and prodding.

When he woke up, his director was sitting next to him. Nick Fury's shoulders bristled with restrained power, his eye patch hiding the scars that he suffered so many years ago. "Good. You're up," he said with about as much sympathy as he could afford to show. "Took you long enough."

Clint glared at him. "Thanks, Fury," he said. "How long was I out?"

"A week."

A week! Clint's mind reeled at the thought. "The agents-"

"They're all okay," Fury nodded. "Badly burned and suffered some gas inhalation, but they'll live. You took the brunt of the hit."

Clint leaned his head against the headboard. "How bad was it?"

"Pretty bad." Fury rose and paced to the window, where it was beginning to rain and drip down the pane. "You were thrown at least fifty feet from the brunt of the explosion, and you broke a couple of ribs."

"That doesn't sound bad."

"No," Fury agreed, "but it's bad enough that the doctors are refusing to let you out of bed for at least a month."

"A month!"

Fury scowled. "At least your hearing isn't impaired. Yes, a month. Inconvenient, but I'd rather you at full rest."

"Will I be here the whole time?"

"Maybe." Fury was maddeningly vague. "We may move you if publicity gets too bad."

Clint snorted. "What would they want with an assassin?"

"A former Avenger?" Fury raised an eyebrow. "There's no telling."

There was a knock on the door and then Tony Stark and Bruce Banner entered, the former striding in without waiting and the latter wincing apologetically as he followed. "Well, you look like you're in fantastic shape," Stark said brightly- too brightly, Clint inwardly grumbled. "What's your secret?"

Banner rolled his eyes and went around to stand by Fury's side. "Steve is coming soon," he said in reference to Captain America. "He's coming from D.C."

"Not all of us can fly," Stark said as way of explanation. "He has to take the train like the rest of us civilians. Well, you civilians." He tapped his chest and grinned that sadistic, sardonic smile he always wore.

"And well, Thor is on Asgard somewhere," Banner added. "He'd be here if he could, though."

"A demi-god would come down to see me?" Clint deadpanned. "Hardly expected."

The four men lapsed into silence- at least, the Avengers did while Fury stood by, imposing in his constant silence. Clint was aware that they were skirting the issue of the sixth member not mentioned, the one that he wanted to hear about the most. And Natasha?

Banner's was the first pair of eyes that rose to meet his questioning gaze, and the man dropped his gaze away to look at Stark. Clint turned his head to stare at Stark, but the scientist seemed as unflappable as always. "So when are you getting out?" he asked instead.

"A month."

"For broken ribs?" Stark asked incredulously. "What sort of medical attention are you getting? I wonder if they're for hire…"

"Where's Natasha?" Clint asked flatly, getting to the point as usual. "You've told me about Steve and Thor. The rest of us are here. Where's Natasha?"

"She's probably on a mission somewhere," Stark said dismissively (though he looked really shifty for a moment and Banner fidgeted next to him), "doing her military stuff and flipping men over and shooting them. You know. The usual."

Clint looked at Fury to see his director being maddeningly calm about it all. "You told her I was here, right?"

"It's not her duty to be here," Fury answered.

"She's my teammate," Clint said disbelievingly. "Answer my question, Fury. Did you, or did you not, tell her I was here?"

"Fury didn't tell us you were here," Banner pointed out helpfully.

"We just happen to stalk you, is all-" Stark added, but the death glare Clint leveled on him- the glare that he had only seen when Clint had been possessed by Loki- shut him up.

"The Black Widow is her own agent, Hawkeye," Fury said in that same maddeningly calm tone. "She can choose to respond when and where she wishes."

"So you told her." Clint was beginning to understand.

Fury did not respond, but his shoulders tensed and rolled with what looked like a restrained effort at keeping himself calm. "I think you need some rest, Hawkeye. I will be back soon." He straightened his jacket collar and dusted imaginary lint off his sleeve before nodding formally to the superheroes in the room and leaving.

Clint stared straight ahead, letting the information roll over him. They told Natasha… and she isn't coming. What he wasn't really sure of was why.

Banner cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I had better be going," he said, clearly not wanting to be in the same room as the visibly unhappy Clint Barton. "Stark, you have that date with Pepper?"

Tony Stark was standing on the other side of the bed, arms crossed as he regarded Clint with a thoughtful expression. "Thinking about someone?" he asked coolly.

"None of your business, Rusty."

"Oh, ouch." Stark clutched his chest in mock agony. "That hurt." He began to walk away, but turned back. "Don't fret. She may come." And then he was gone as he closed the door behind him and Banner, leaving Clint in his bed wondering why on earth the person he trusted with his life wouldn't come.

..

He woke up next to find Steve Rogers by his bedside, reading a magazine with his brows furrowed. "Oh, you're awake," the Captain remarked as he put his magazine down. "Nice rest?"

Clint only frowned at him.

"It was an attempt at a joke," Rogers said awkwardly. "How are you feeling?"

"Broken ribs," Clint answered wearily, "so about as well as I could possibly feel." He changed the subject and nodded at the magazine. "What are you reading?"

"This magazine is called People," Rogers explained, holding it up, "and it is indeed about people, but I cannot understand why these people are so silly as to continually get themselves drunk and photographed. Or why they can't stay in marriages," he added, frowning at the front cover.

"It's Hollywood, Rogers, something you and I may never know," Clint said tiredly, leaning his head against the headboard. "People do silly things all the time."

"Yes, but…" And Rogers gave up on trying to figure out this piece of twenty-first century out. He leaned forward and rested his arms on the railings beside Clint's bed. "Have Tony and Bruce come to visit you yet?"

"They have." And again Clint felt the unspoken sixth member's name lingering in the room, the proverbial elephant in the room that nobody wanted to talk about. "Bruce brought flowers." He jerked his head at the corner of the room. "Daisies, of all things."

"Hmm." And Rogers eyed him critically. "You always struck me as more of a tulips man."

Clint actually laughed at that one, although something in the back of his mind said, Her favorite flower is the tulip. "Yes, well, what are you? Traditional roses?"

"Sunflowers," Rogers admitted.

They were silent for a moment before Clint decided to breach the subject. "Have you heard anything from Natasha?" he asked.

The other superhero had the decency to look into Clint's eyes. "No," he said quietly, "I have not."

"Was she told?"

"We found out from Stark," Rogers said. "Stark keeps tabs on the news and he got wind of your injury so we came down once you had recovered enough to have visitors."

"So all the Avengers know?"

Rogers hesitated, knowing that it was a potentially loaded question. "We all had means of knowing," he admitted. "Thor sends his regards, by the way, and hopes that you get well soon."

Clint completely ignored the second part of Rogers's statement and focused on the first. "So she knows."

"Most likely…"

Both of them were silent for a moment before Clint again broke the silence. "I saved her from when she was young, you know."

"I heard," Rogers answered quietly.

"And we've been partners for ages." Clint looked at him. "I trust her irrevocably."

"And her, you."

"How would you know?" Clint challenged. "You never saw us together except for the war against Loki."

"I can tell," Rogers said wearily. "You two agreed to stay back and hold the site when I went to scout the area and evacuate the rest of the civilians. And you two worked together like one unit, like you'd done it before." He looked at Clint. "Very few teams can do that without complete trust in one another."

"Then why isn't she here?" Clint looked at the door, as though by looking at it he could compel it to open and reveal her standing there. "I was there when she was badly injured back in Budapest."

Captain America was silent for a few moments before answering. "She is compromised," he said quietly.

"Come again?"

"She is compromised, Clint, because she loves you."

"She doesn't love me," Clint says hotly, "are you crazy?"

"Only as crazy as a man trapped in ice for over sixty years," Rogers says, cracking a smile. "But I see it, and so does Stark and Banner. She cares for you more than any of us, and she knows it."

Clint only shook his head, stubborn in his disbelief.

"You didn't see her when you were with Loki," Rogers pressed. "She was confident, yes, extremely disciplined, ready to do what was necessary. But she never gave up on you. She never gave up on hoping that you would come back. And she realized it then. So did Loki. It is her one weakness, Clint. She will do everything she can to avoid hurting you.

It is why she is not here tonight. Because if she was here, it would be harder for her to tear herself away. No doubt S.H.I.E.L.D is already asking her to find out who did this to you, and being here would be harder for her to be objective. She wouldn't be the Black Widow you know."

"You make it sound like such an easy decision," Clint said bitterly. "Like it's a duty to her country, not her friend."

"It is not, but for us, the duty to our country and friends must be the same." Rogers passed a hand over his eyes, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "She cares about you, Clint, and I am sure that she is sorry at the decision she has to make."

Clint took in a deep breath, trying to absorb all the information Rogers is telling him. Difficult information to process, no doubt, but the Captain was right. "How do you know so much about this?"

Rogers cracked a smile. "Well, you see, my friend, being on ice gives you a lot of time to think." He stood up to go. "I'll be back tomorrow with Tony and Bruce," he offered.

"Goodbye, Steve." Clint's eyes were closing.

There were footsteps, and then they stopped. "Clint," Rogers said gently, "did you love the Black Widow the way she loved you?"

"I never stopped," Clint murmured, half-asleep already.

He could almost see the Captain nodding before the door closed behind him.

..

Maybe it's a dream, but he wakes briefly to see a redhead bending over him before a gentle kiss is dropped onto his forehead.

..

He never sees her again.

If he does, it is a glimpse, a blink that maybe speaks volumes of how much he's been thinking about her, but he never gets a complete look at her. Months go by and still Fury remains maddeningly tight-lipped about her whereabouts while Clint almost goes mad trying to figure out where she is.

Don't look for a ghost, Tony tells him one day.

If she doesn't want to be found, she won't be found, Bruce adds when asked if he knew where she is.

She has a duty, and so do you, Steve reminds him when he comes to visit S.H.I.E.L.D on a rainy day in March.

Thor only shrugs when he comes down to say hello. I do not know where she is. I have not seen her since my brother's betrayal.

Agent Hill is of no help. I can't help you. I can't disclose any information on any of the other Avengers. But she pats him sympathetically on the shoulder even as she turns away.

They all say the same thing, whether verbal or not: She loved you. Remember that.

..

Life goes on, even for a broken man like Clint Barton.

He goes on missions, completes them, gets awarded for bravery in a mission or something inane like that, breaks his bow, gets a more hi-tech one, and then heads off to Europe or Africa for another mission a day after the previous one. It doesn't matter how many times he gets scarred or hurt; he just grits his teeth and fights through the pain.

It's almost like he wants to get hurt so badly that she'll have to notice, Agent Hill says sadly to Fury after Clint is brought in with a scar rippling down his arm and into his side.

She's noticed, Fury says curtly.

The Widow does not appear to Clint again, and eventually he begins to forget what she looks like or what she sounds like. Maybe it's for the best, he says to himself late at night.

He doesn't like waiting for something that seems like it'll never come.

Reviews are appreciated! :)