120 Safe House

Hours had passed since Ultron defeated the Avengers with the help of Wanda, but their spirit had not come back yet. For once, there wasn’t a boisterous ruckus after a battle. Instead, there was contemplative silence. Bruce Banner sat on the floor, slouched, arms limp at his sides. He had woken not long after takeoff. He didn’t remember the fight, but there were broken flashes: fire, rubble, broken cars, screaming, civilians running from him, buildings collapsing. He pulled a blanket over his shoulders, more from shame than cold.

Natasha sat a few seats away, knees pulled up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them tightly. Her fingers tapped absently against her shin, but her eyes didn’t move. They were fixed on some invisible point in the distance, something only she could see. The memories that she had worked a lifetime to forget were at the forefront of her mind again.

Harry was seated opposite her, elbows on his knees, a bottle of water untouched in his hand. He stared down at the floor, jaw clenched. He hadn’t spoken since they left, not even to make sure Bruce was okay. Voldemort's skull throne was the only image that his mind chose to focus on.

Steve leaned back against the wall. The shield lay beside him, untouched, like he couldn’t bring himself to pick it up. His knuckles were still scraped from the fight. He’d never say it aloud, but it seemed as if the constant fighting was catching up to him. The weight of decades past. The cost of choices never made. And if this would ever end.

Even Thor was silent. He sat hunched near the exit ramp. His fingers twitched nervously. There was a nagging feeling that he had missed something that he just couldn’t place.

The only person who was talking was Tony, but he, too, didn’t have his usual obnoxious voice on steroids. He was talking with Maria Hill to understand how the world was responding to their recent battle.

“The news is loving you guys,” Maria said, her voice dry and bitter. “Wall-to-wall coverage. Endless footage of the havoc that Bruce and the Hulk Buster did. Every channel’s running headlines about Ultron. ‘Avengers Break the World,’ ‘Earth’s Mightiest Threats,’ that sort of thing.”

Tony didn’t say anything, letting Maria continue, “But no one else is enjoying this. Not the public. Not the politicians. Your enemies are coming out of the woodwork, and not just Hydra remnants or rogue states. I'm talking about the ones who’ve been waiting for a moment like this. The kind that operate in shadows, fund think tanks, and whisper into the ears of UN officials. The people who went into hiding when the Avengers became a force to reckon with.”

She paused, letting the weight of her words sink in.

“They’ve seized on the Ultron story like vultures. The narrative is simple: Ultron was created by the Avengers, he went rogue, and wants to use nuclear weapons to wipe out humanity. It doesn’t help that all countries with nuclear weapons are facing constant cyber-attacks. We don’t know if Ultron or some other party did them. Also, someone’s even been quietly circulating propaganda on encrypted networks about how you’re all accountable to no one. How unchecked power, especially superpowered, is a threat to global security.”

Tony finally glanced away from the screen, his eyes shifting briefly to Bruce. Then back to Maria.

“And Bruce?” he asked.

“No official arrest warrant yet,” Maria replied. “But it's... in the air. Governments are debating it behind closed doors. If the story gains more traction, or if the attacks get worse, someone’s going to want a scapegoat. And right now? Banner fits the bill.”

Tony exhaled through his nose, forcing himself to remain calm. His fingers twitched at his side.

“You think someone’s coordinating this?” he asked. “This campaign?”

Maria’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Not confirmed. But the patterns in the misinformation. Paraphrased phrases that convey the same messages are being said across outlets that shouldn’t even know each other exist. It’s too clean to be organic. Some of my contacts in European intelligence think there's a disinformation cell operating out of Eastern Europe. Could be ex-Hydra. Could be something else.”

“It could be Hydra sympathisers,” Tony muttered.

Maria nodded. “Whatever it is, they are acting fast. The conversation about ‘control’—about needing oversight—it’s happening again, louder this time. The Hulk’s rampage gave them ammunition. And even the people who supported you are getting cold feet.”

“Stark Relief Foundation?” Tony asked.

Hill nodded. “Already deployed. We’ve got medics, engineers, and PR liaisons on-site. Damage assessment teams are coordinating with local agencies. But…” She hesitated. “It’s not enough.”

Tony lowered his hand and stared blankly ahead. “It never is.”

“SHIELD’s doing what we can,” Hill continued. “Fury is working channels with the UN. But the optics? They’re bad. World leaders are asking the same question: Why did this AI exist in the first place? And who’s really in control of your team?”

Steve and Natasha glanced toward the screen but said nothing.

“So they think we’re the problem.”

“No, Tony. They think you’re the problem. You and Banner. Ultron has your fingerprints. The word ‘accountability’ is popping up in every closed-door session. And I’m hearing whispers of... contingencies. Emergency protocols. Some governments are exploring anti-Avenger task forces.” Hill explained.

Tonny nodded, "Well, as long as it's me they want." Tony sighed to himself.

 “How’s the team?” Hill asked quietly.

Tony paused. His eyes flicked over to the others. Bruce sat curled up with a blanket over his shoulders, his gaze unfocused. Steve was staring out the window like he was watching the world slip through his fingers. Natasha hadn’t spoken in over an hour. Thor’s hammer was resting beside him, untouched, and even the god looked mortal in his silence. Harry leaned back with his eyes closed, but his knuckles were still bruised from punching the Hulk, and his breathing wasn’t steady.

Tony sighed and looked back at the screen.

“Everyone’s…” He hesitated. “We took a hit.”

Hill didn’t say anything, but her eyes softened, reading between the lines.

“We’ll shake it off,” Tony added.

Maria didn’t press. The silence between them said everything.

“Well, for now I’d recommend you stay in stealth mode,” Hill said, her expression grave. “Avoid Avengers Tower. Or any site remotely connected to the team.”

Tony leaned back in his seat, rubbing his face with both hands. “So… run and hide?” he muttered bitterly.

“It’s not surrender, Stark,” Hill replied, trying to soften the blow. “It’s survival. We’re still picking up the pieces, and the media’s eating it up like popcorn. Until we find Ultron or something we can use, we’re outmatched. And I don’t have a lot else to offer.”

Tony looked away for a long second.

“Neither do we,” he said quietly. There was a beat of silence before he reached out and ended the call. The screen blinked off with a quiet click, leaving the Quinjet in a heavy silence once more.

 “Hey, you wanna switch out?” Tony asked as he stepped into the cockpit, rubbing the back of his neck.

Clint glanced at him over his shoulder, hands steady on the controls. “Nah, I’m good. If you wanna get some kip, now’s a good time. We’re still a few hours out.”

Tony squinted at the nav screen that had no particular location put in, frowning he asked. “A few hours from where?”

Clint gave a tight smirk. “Safe house.”

Tony exhaled through his nose and muttered, “That’s not saying much these days.”

The cabin quieted after that. The team was scattered through the Quinjet’s main hold, lost in thought. Only the low hum of the engines and occasional flicker of console lights filled the space.

Hours later, the sky had shifted to early dawn. Faint light spilt across the horizon as the Quinjet descended slowly, as Clint guided it down. Outside, nothing but rolling hills and open fields stretched in every direction.

The Quinjet’s ramp hissed open, revealing tall grass swaying gently in the wind. Clint unbuckled and stood, stretching once before turning to the others.

“Alright, everybody up. We’re walking the rest of the way.”

“What is this place?” Bruce asked, blinking at the windswept field around them. Dry grass rustled underfoot, golden in the morning light but otherwise unremarkable. One gravel road stretched towards nowhere, no power lines. No signs of civilisation in sight.

“A safe house?” Tony echoed skeptically, turning in a slow circle. “Or a setup for a horror movie.”

The Avengers stood together in the middle of what looked like nowhere. The Quinjet had vanished behind a copse of trees, and in every direction, there was only empty land and sky.

Natasha stepped forward. She looked at the horizon, then spoke. “The Barton farmstead is located at 41°03'13.0" North, 94°57'40.2" West.”

For a heartbeat, nothing changed.

Then the air shimmered.

It was subtle at first, a ripple, like heat haze, distorting the space ahead. The grass bent unnaturally as if a breeze passed through something unseen. A flicker of light ran across the emptiness before them, and suddenly, reality peeled back like a curtain.

An entire farmhouse unfolded out of thin air.

The building emerged, like a ghost solidifying into flesh. Faded white walls, a wraparound porch, and a red barn to the side. A mailbox materialised with a soft clink of metal. Fences stretched outward as if they’d always been there, simply forgotten by the world.

Tony took a half-step back, his eyes wide. “Okay… that’s new.”

Thor tilted his head, momentarily stunned. “Fedillius Charm?”

“Yes,” Natasha said softly, watching it all settle into place with a faint, nostalgic smile.

Steve’s brows drew together in disbelief. “This was here the whole time?”

The team stood there for a moment longer, letting it all sink in.

Tony broke the silence. “Okay. Barton wins. Best safehouse ever.”

“Let’s hope it stays a safe house,” Clint muttered under his breath, leading the way up the wooden porch as the rest of the team followed, still processing the magical reveal of the hidden home.

The screen door creaked open with a familiar squeal, and Clint stepped inside.

“Honey, I’m home,” he called with a voice that tried to be light, but couldn’t quite hide the exhaustion behind it.

Footsteps approached from the kitchen, and Laura appeared in the doorway, a towel slung over her shoulder. Her eyes narrowed with instinctive concern, immediately clocking the bruises, dirt, and drained expressions on every face. She paused, taking in the sight of her husband and the Avengers standing awkwardly in her living room.

Clint winced. “Hi. Company. Sorry, I didn’t call ahead.”

Laura exhaled through her nose, half-annoyed, half-understanding. “Of course you didn’t.” But then her gaze softened as she stepped closer and gave him a quick, reassuring peck on the cheek. “Hey, everyone,” she said with a tired smile. “Sorry, I haven’t visited. As you can see—” she gestured down at her very pregnant belly, now unmistakably prominent beneath a loose-fitting sweater, “—I’ve been kind of busy growing a person.”

The tension in the room shifted, just a little. Even Bruce gave a small, weary smile.

Tony looked around, eyes moving across the rustic furniture, the warmth of the family photos on the mantle, the faint sound of wind chimes outside the window. “So this is where the Barton family’s been hiding.” Everyone’s gaze gradually turned towards Harry.

Harry shrugged with exaggerated nonchalance, arms out. “Fidelius Charms don’t work if everyone knows. Plausible deniability. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Tony rolled his eyes.

“Ooh, incoming,” Clint warned with a smirk as he heard the footsteps of his children echoing through the house, stepping aside just in time as two small blurs of energy came barreling around the corner.

“Dad!” Lila shouted joyfully, launching herself into Clint’s arms. He caught her effortlessly, spinning her once before holding her close and planting a kiss on her forehead.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he murmured with a smile, genuine relief and joy flickering in his eyes.

Cooper wasn’t far behind, throwing his arms around Clint’s waist. “Hey, buddy!” Clint grinned, ruffling his son’s hair before kissing the top of his head. “How are you guys doing, huh?”

Lila leaned back, eyes wide with curiosity as she peeked over Clint’s shoulder. “Did you bring Auntie Nat and Uncle Harry?”

“Why don’t you hug her and find out?” Natasha teased with a soft smile.

Lila gasped and wriggled in Clint’s arms until he set her down. She darted over and Natasha crouched just in time to scoop her up, holding her tight as the girl giggled in delight.

“You got taller,” Natasha said, mock-inspecting her. “That’s illegal, you know.”

“No, it’s not,” Lila giggled, tucking her head into Natasha’s neck.

“Hey, don’t forget your favourite grown-up,” Harry added, crouching down to Cooper’s level and opening his arms wide.

Cooper didn’t hesitate—he sprinted into Harry’s hug, nearly tackling him to the floor. “Uncle Harry! Did you bring magic?”

Harry grinned and pulled a small, floating puff of purple light from behind Cooper’s ear, making the boy gasp in delight.

“I always bring magic,” Harry whispered.

 “Sorry for barging in on you,” Steve said with a sheepish smile, glancing around the cosy interior of the Barton home.

Laura waved it off with a warm chuckle. “You’re always welcome here, Steve. Though next time, maybe a five-minute heads-up wouldn’t hurt.”

“Yeah, well,” Tony cut in, gesturing dramatically at Harry, Natasha, and Clint, “we would have called ahead if these three over here weren’t assholes for keeping such a huge secret.”

Clint shrugged like this whole thing was totally casual. “Wasn’t really relevant till now.”

“Dude,” Bruce said, hands on his hips. “This is like... an actual house hidden by magic.”

“Yup,” Clint said with a grin. “Fury helped me set this up years ago, back when I joined. Kept it off the books. Not even Coulson knows. It’s clean. Untraceable. I wanted somewhere I could protect my family, no matter what.”

Tony nodded, his arms crossing. “Okay, that part I get. But the whole disappearing house thing?”

“That’s where Harry came in,” Natasha said.

Clint gestured toward him. “Harry helped me upgrade the protections. Basically, no one can remember or find this place unless Nat tells them the exact coordinates. Like, down to the second.”

Tony tilted his head. “Wait. So if Nat walks off the grid and forgets the numbers…”

“We’re all screwed,” Clint finished with a smirk.

“Comforting,” Steve said with a chuckle.

“But efficient,” Natasha added.

Natasha reached out and placed a gentle hand on Laura’s belly, smirking. “How’s little Natasha doing in there, huh?”

Laura winced, glanced at Clint, then gave Natasha an apologetic smile. “She's… actually a Nathaniel.”

Natasha blinked, then leaned in toward the bump like she was addressing a tiny enemy. “Et tu, uterus?”

Clint snorted.

“I told you,” Harry declared, beaming with smug satisfaction as he crossed his arms like a victorious wizard king. “I told you not to be presumptuous. But nooo, the all-knowing godmother had spoken. ‘It’s a girl,’ you said. ‘Definitely a girl,’ you said.”

“I don’t like your tone,” Natasha grumbled, not looking at him.

“I don’t like your track record,” Harry shot back. “Let it be known, in the presence of witnesses—” he gestured grandly to the rest of the Avengers, “—that I was right. About a baby’s gender. Using zero magic. Just... common sense and male intuition.”

“Oh please,” Natasha scoffed. “Your ‘intuition’ was a fifty-fifty guess made with overconfidence and caffeine.”

“And yet I was right,” Harry sang, already dancing a little victory jig in place. “Say it. Say, ‘You were right, Harry.’”

As everyone started tending to wounds, patching up bruises, and trying to distract themselves from the fractured echoes Wanda had left behind in their minds. Thor couldn’t settle himself at the peace that Clint’s home provided. Without saying a word, he walked out from the homely atmosphere. Steve noticed his absence first and exchanged a look with Harry. Wordlessly, the two followed.

They found Thor standing at the edge of the field, still unsure and contemplating his vision.

“Thor,” Steve called out gently.

The Asgardian didn’t turn. “I saw something in that dream.”

“Yeah,” Harry muttered, “so did we all.”

“Yes, well, I need answers, and I am not going to find them here.”

“About what?” Steve asked.

Thor shook his head. “I’m not certain.”

“And where do you plan to find those answers, or even what that question is?” Harry asked.

“There is a sacred pool. In Asgard, we call it the Water of Sight,” Thor said. “The Norns keep it hidden. In every realm, there are reflections of their waters, guarded by spirits. If they accept me, I may return to my vision.”

Steve nodded slowly. “Do you know where to find it?”

“I do not,” Thor admitted. “But Erik might guide me to it.”

Harry sighed. “Alright. But let someone know when you're done.”

“I will contact either Fury or Agent Hill once I have my answers,” Thor promised. “If I am successful… I shall return with foresight.”

“Good luck, Thor,” Steve said.

Harry gave a short nod. “Don’t fall into the pool and drown.”

Thor smirked faintly. “I swim like a leviathan.”

He summoned Mjolnir, and with a crack of thunder, launched into the sky.

A moment later, the low rumble of an engine rolled in from the gravel driveway. An old, lovingly-maintained pickup truck came to a stop near the barn. The doors creaked open, and out stepped Dorea and Charles Richards. Dorea adjusted her cardigan, her sharp eyes already scanning the farmhouse.

“Harry, when did you get here? And Steve’s here too?” Dorea said as she squinted through hre glasses. “Are all of you here? Don’t tell me the whole Avengers gang has descended on this poor house.”

“We heard the news,” Charles added. “That Ultron thing and all the political mumbo-jumbo about uncontrolled power. Are you all right?”

Harry gave a tired smile. “Mostly.”

“We got bested,” Steve said honestly. “It’s been a while since we’ve lost this badly. But once we’ve had time to regroup, we’ll get back on our feet.”

“Assuming Ultron gives us that time,” Harry added.

Charles gave him a look. “Your enemies won’t wait. That’s the nature of the world you live in. But going out there half-ready, half-healed… that’s the surest way to lose again.”

Dorea nodded. “You lot always try to carry the world on your shoulders. Well, even Atlas bent a knee now and then.”

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Dorea was already moving, rolling up her sleeves. “Now, enough brooding. I’ll whip up something warm. You,”—she pointed at Harry—“go heal whoever needs patching up. When families are going through a tough time, it doesn’t mean everyone gives up. They regroup and come back stronger.”

She looked around at the tired faces gathering at the windows and porches of the farmhouse. “You’re the bloody Avengers. If anyone can rise from the ashes, it’s you lot. But even gods need tea and toast once in a while.”

A small laugh bubbled from Steve.

As they reached the back of the truck, Steve and Harry helped unload several bags of groceries. “You really didn’t have to bring all this,” Steve said as he carried a box full of vegetables.

“These aren’t for you. This is how much food those munchkins eat in a few days. You should have called ahead,” Dorea said with mock outrage. “I would’ve picked up more and started on an English breakfast. Proper one, too—eggs, beans, sausages, grilled tomatoes, the works. Best thing for hangovers or broken pride.”

“She’s not wrong,” Charles chimed in, taking a crate under one arm.

Harry smiled despite himself. As they walked toward the house, he glanced at the team from the window—still scattered, still shaken, but now peeking out at the unexpected arrival like children glimpsing hope through the door. Yes they had lost the battle, but there was still a war to win.