A/N: A new chapter finally.

Hopefully there aren't many inconsistencies, I realize I had Jarvis and Vision as separate characters. For the sake of this story (and for the sole reason that I like Jarvis), I'm going to push forward with the assumption that Tony could fix Jarvis after Vision gets created. There's really no reason why that wouldn't be possible.

Clint had woken up the next day, literally every part of his body sore, unable to move the slightest muscle to get out of the bed. Somehow through the course of the night, he had rolled on to his stomach, his new wings draped across his body and brushing the floor on both sides of the bed. He had weakly called to Jarvis, who got Banner for him, the latter asking if he could do anything for him despite no one having any experience or protocol for this kind of nonsense. Between Clint and Bruce, they had managed to get Clint sitting up and his clothes changed, and got him started on some basic exercises to get him used to his new weight and balance with the wings.

Things went on like that for a few days, before Clint was back to at least being functional and standing on his own. He even caught himself admiring the wings every once in a while, normally when he was getting dressed or showering. The wings were massive, the primaries brushing the ground as he moved, and were auburn with grey down feathers that peaked through when Clint resettled the wings from time to time. When the light caught the feathers at just the right angle, highlights of gold and red shown through.

A week passed, with Clint finally learning how to maneuver through Bruce's floor of the Tower without knocking anything important off the lab tables. He knew he was getting on Bruce's nerves, the poor man putting up with Clint's normal hovering behavior intensified by Clint feeling confined and off kilter.

"Clint, you think maybe it's time you started shooting down at the range again? You know you're welcome to stay in the labs for as long as you want, I'm just worried that it might be… getting to you." Bruce's mild tone drifted over to Clint to where he had perched himself for the last 2 hours, a barren corner counter of the lab that let the archer look out over everything.

"Well Doc, I think I can take a hint. You getting antsy with me observing you?" Clint wouldn't say he pouted, but his protégé Kate probably would. He could practically hear the young archer's voice now. Seriously Clint? What are you, a five-year-old? Can't you figure out how to entertain yourself? He grimaced. He briefly thought of the horror that would ensue if she found out he wasn't keeping up with his shooting.

"Well, maybe not me exactly… but you know the Big Guy and being observed…"

"I actually hadn't thought of that. But your suggestion is pretty good Doc. Maybe I should go find out if the new appendages did something to my accuracy." Clint hopped down from his perch, flicking his wings out briefing to resettle them. "Want me to let you know if anything feels off? Maybe add it to the notes?"

"Yeah, it'll help so we have more accurate data to form a basis of… well, normalcy for us to use in case anything goes horribly wrong." Bruce looked up from his notes and data, flashing a nervous smile at Clint as the archer walked past him. "Not that anything is going to go wrong of course, just best to be as prepared as possible for whatever happens, right?"

"Right Doc, I'll keep you posted. See you later."

Clint reached the lab's door and walked out, waiting until he was in the elevator before allowing himself a panic attack. He hadn't allowed any of the team to see him after Wanda had left the day he woke up to wings, preferring to keep to Bruce's quiet observation and analysis to keep himself from freaking out. Jarvis had mentioned several times over the past week that Tony and Steve in particular were ready to break into Bruce's floor to check up on him, and Clint hadn't wanted to be barraged by the endless questions that would be sure to follow. He knew Steve would be unfaltering concern, ever the caring leader looking out for his team. And Tony… Well, Tony would be having a weird… science-gasm. He'd probably take one look at Clint's wings and try to design Iron-Man themed armor for them.

He knew they'd been getting increasingly worried despite Bruce keeping them updated on Clint's progress, but he just hadn't wanted to find out if he was still the same Hawkeye they relied on. If the wings had somehow managed to mess up his balance and accuracy so much that he couldn't shoot right… Maybe it was time to talk to Kate about stepping up to take her place as Hawkeye with the Avengers.

"Sir, where would you like to go?" Jarvis's mild voice filtered into the elevator. Clint hadn't even realized he was still just sitting there, not going anywhere.

"My floor please. Gotta pick up my bow before I can do anything productive I suppose."

"Very good, sir." The AI started the ascent to Clint's floor. "I would like to warn you that Miss Romanov is waiting in your quarters, sir. She has been most insistent that you see her."

He had forgotten that Natasha hadn't been in the Tower when Wanda changed him. Clint wondered if she even knew what had happened, then shook his head. Of course Nat knew, she knew everything.

The elevator doors opened, shocking Clint out of his thoughts. He refocused, finding that Nat was standing directly in front of the elevator doors in silence. He twitched in reaction, having never quite gotten used to her silent aggressiveness. Nat glared at him, before hauling him out of the elevator into the soft lighting of his quarters. She pulled him bodily into his large living room, forcing him down into one of the couches. He unconsciously flicked his wings, moving the feathers before they could get crushed by his weight. Nat immediately went for one of her guns, stopping mid draw as she realized what she was reacting to.

Clint sighed, ignoring a mild glare that was sent in his direction. "I missed you too, Nat. How was the mission?"

"Mission went as expected. No snags, quick in and out. Explain what I'm looking at, Barton." The spy's normally unfazed demeanor had broken, showing an irritated concern that Clint had grown used to over the years. Nat always cared, in her own special way. "Bruce had mentioned some changes, and Fury had told me about an incident, but neither told me what exactly."

"Ah. Wanda decided I wasn't literal enough I suppose." Clint looked at her, noticed her irritation had gone back to blank neutrality.

"And are you… literal, enough now?" The quiet tone seemed to cut through the air, giving way to the unspoken question. Are you compromised?

"Honestly, Nat, I haven't really done much to test them out. I've been holed up in Bruce's lab, worried about the others. I was going to run though my paces down in the training rooms though… You mind coming with? If Kate or you aren't with me I just end up slacking off." I'm afraid of this Nat, support needed. The unspoken remained in the air between them, years of practice making it easy for both parties to dissect the hidden undercurrents, know what the other needed.

Nat cocked her head to the side, checking over Clint. The blank expression softened, a touch of concern entering the features of the former Russian's face. "Don't worry Barton, I'll make sure you won't lose to Kate during your next competition. Grab your stuff, we'll start when you're ready." You aren't leaving my sight now, get used to it until I approve of your status.

Clint winced, getting up and walking off toward his room. "Got it." As he entered the room, he noticed a few feathers lying about, and realized Wanda had probably done her little spell while he was sleeping. Maybe Jarvis had alerted the others to his condition, gotten them to him before he did anything drastic to himself.

He moved the feathers into a pile near his bed, and grabbed his bow from a desk near the door. His quiver was scooped up from the wall nearby, the glove slipped on as he walked back out to Natasha. He practically barreled into her as she stood waiting for him outside his room, one delicate eyebrow arched as he stumbled to a halt before running into her. She held out a deck of cards to him as he made sure nothing had dropped. He looked at the deck dumbly before glancing up at Nat.

"Oh come on Barton. You used to be able to make anything into a projectile. If you manage to land every hit I tell you to with this deck, you'll get my stamp of approval for being back to normal."

"But Nat… You're going to make me do ridiculous shots with these, I know it." Clint knew he was whining, could hear Kate's voice again. What are you, five?

"Quit whining, you'll be done before you know it." Nat grabbed his arm and dragged him off to the elevator again. "The quicker we start, the quicker you'll get past everyone's concern too." She had a point.

Six hours later, Clint was slumped against a wall, his bow lying forgotten yet within reach as he tried to catch his breath. Natasha had truly put him through his paces, forcing him to hit a multitude of targets with various thing (a target behind a corner and wall using his bow, two targets at once with knives, multiples with those cards), checking his new strength level (his muscle mass had increased drastically to account for his wings, he would a new bow and need to be more careful punching things in the future), even checked his stamina (normally Clint would've ran out of steam way quicker than the rest of the team, never being used to prolonged running).

As they worked through his body's new limitations, members of the team stopped in to the training rooms. Most of them just watched from a distance, shouting the occasional support, going about their own business and letting Clint know that nothing had changed.

Wanda and Vision had wandered in almost immediately, forcing Clint to wonder if Jarvis had alerted them. The couple had simply observed Clint and Natasha training, giving quiet support and offering to help in any way they could. Clint knew Wanda wanted to help him despite being the cause of his new problems, and desperately tried not to lash out at her for the whole thing. He supposed it was working, even if his focus had slipped a bit because of it.

They were still here, Wanda crouching next to him with a water bottle. "You were amazing Barton. I knew this would be a great idea." She seemed unfazed by the scathing glare Natasha had sent his way. "Have you tried flying yet?"

Natasha's face went carefully blank as Clint took over glaring at the witch. "I'm not quite sure how I would go about doing that Wanda, and to be completely honest, it terrifies me. So no, I haven't had a death wish yet."

Natasha had come close while Clint was talking. She held a hand out to the archer, who took it gladly. After hoisting Clint to his feet, she started walking him across the room. "Well Clint, I actually wanted to talk to you about that…" One of the retractable windows that Tony sometimes used for access while suited up opened up. The training room floor was maybe thirty or so floors up the Tower, but the wind from that height was still intense. Natasha's hair whipped around her face as she gave Clint an apologetic look. "No better time to learn right?" And she threw Clint out the window, her slim figure fading from view as he plummeted toward the ground with a look of pure shock and betrayal on his face.

Clint twisted himself in the air, the sight of nothing but towering buildings and clear blue sky above him making him dizzy. Granted, the sight of busy Manhattan traffic and asphalt below him wasn't better, but he caught sight of multiple figures in red around him.

Bright red and gold twinkled at him from the corner of his eye, the familiar thrum of Tony's suit making its way to his ears despite the roaring of air filling his hearing aids. If he managed to not die from this, he was going to have to beg Tony for new aids.

Against the windows of a nearby building, red and blue moved its way around, Spider-Man (hopefully) standing by to help out as well. The kid seemed to be following Clint's rapid descent, and he briefly wondered who all knew about his new form.

And the last red… He saw Deadpool skipping along the street below him, raising his head to look up at the commotion above. As the mercenary saw Hawkeye falling towards his, the leather clad figure spread its arms wide, making a catching motion. Clint felt his eye twitch. No. He would not, he refused, to die because Wade Wilson, the Merc with a Mouth, tried to catch him. Even if he survived that, he knew Tony, hell Fury, would be sniggering about it for years.

With that thought in mind, he took a deep breath, made himself open his wings, and pushed down with them. The great wings folded down around them, the deep red brown catching the sunlight and flashing gold and amber. He kept forcing the wings to push down, to keep slowing his descent, until finally his feet touched the ground in front of the mercenary. He looked down at the ground in surprise, then back up the Tower, unable to even see where Natasha had flung him out the window.

He didn't even realize how shaken he was until Deadpool grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to look into the oddly expressive mask. "Wow Hawkguy when'd you grow such awesome wings? Can I get some or are they, y'know, an Avengers only kind of thing? 'Cause really, I'd be amazing with wings, unless you think maybe the world isn't ready for such greatness-"

The mercenary kept talking and holding on to Clint's shoulders, not even betraying the fact that Clint had started shaking and would probably fall if Wade ever let go of him. Clint just let himself be held up by the steady hands on his shoulders, took a few deep breaths to try to calm himself down.

"I hope Jarvis managed to get data on that, that was just awesome." Tony's slightly mechanical voice cut through the mercenary's chatter. Clint twitched, turning around to look at Tony as the man landed beside him. He stepped away from the mercenary holding him up, barely noticing how Wade finally shut up, and punched Tony in the faceplate, the metal denting slightly beneath his fist. The genius staggered back, off balance from the force of the punch.

Spider-Man had landed near Deadpool, watching the archer and mercenary carefully like he was worried one of them was going to blow up at something. When Clint turned around and punched out Iron Man, both Spider-Man and Deadpool burst out laughing, Deadpool hunched over holding his sides and Spider-Man practically in tears as Clint stalked angrily back in to the Tower.

Well, as long as someone was finding amusement out of this whole thing. His wings rustled, fluffing a bit before settling back into their sleek form along his back as he thought back to Deadpool's words. Even Clint had to admit his new wings looked awesome, but the mercenary had been the first one besides Wanda to really mention them. As he entered the elevator and punched in the code for his floor, he tried not to think of the warm feeling he had gotten when the mercenary had brought them up.