So I had this idea and I wanted to type it out. This is suppose to take place in A4. And Laura Barton is alive, even though we all know she's probably not in the movie. Just go with it. Also Supernatural fans will recognize this from a certain episode. That's where I got the idea from. Hopefully no one hates me too much.

"Lo, there do I see my father…"

He landing gracefully, his two companions dropping next to him at the same time, just as lithely. As one they ran off under the cover of night, rushing away from the structure they had just vacated.

"…Lo, there do I see my mother, my sisters and my brothers…"

Running on his right, the Captain kept pace, his face showing marks from the battle they had just fought moments earlier, though his faithful shield remained fixed to his forearm to be used at a moment's notice.

On his left ran a still unbelievable sight to behold. The dark clothing, pale skin, and dark hair that had been by his side since childhood. The trio didn't falter in their escape, though the shameful feeling of abandonment burned through him. The two otherworldly siblings continued speaking, their voices blending as one.

"…Lo, there do I see the line of my people back to the beginning…"

~~~Warrior's Prayer~~~

Clint checked the view from the front of the store, watching the shadows for movement. They were getting closer, only a few minutes more now. He clicked on the lantern, making sure the new Black Order members came straight for the hardware store. It was all part of the plan.

Limping down the aisle, past several carefully placed hissing canisters of propane, Clint's eyes softened the slightest at the woman who was sitting on the floor resting against the register counter. He counted each ragged breath, ignoring the bloody sight across her abdomen.

"Tash? Tasha?"

His voice roused her, tired green eyes opening and searching him out, finding him standing above her. "Wha?"

"How you feelin'?"

She gave a grunt. "I can't move my legs and my insides are being held in by a plastic bag and some duck tape."

Clint chuckled as he eased down next to her, one hand holding his bow and quiver, the other balancing himself to the floor, careful of his shredded leg. "Just like Budapest, huh?"

Natasha gave a playful scoff that changed to a slight cough. A trail of blood fell from the corner of her mouth. "You and I remember Budapest very differently."

He let out a sigh, gritting his teeth against the sharp stab of pain as he positioned himself. He had an unobstructed view of the front of the hardware store and a perfect shot to his right. Now they just had to wait.

Natasha tilted, leaning against his shoulder, the tiniest of shakes coming from her as he knew she was trying to fight off the shock and pain of her injuries.

He needed to say one thing. At least this one thing. "I wanted to tell you. We wanted to tell you but we wanted to be sure."

Natasha hummed. "Wha' you talking 'bout? Tell me what?"

Clint leaned his head back, looking up at the ceiling. "Laura's pregnant."

Natasha froze for a second, understanding the situation. She continued on. "How far along?"

"About five months."

She lifted her head to glare at him, the normally fierce stare glazed with pain. "You son of bitch. And you didn't think to tell me sooner?"

He gave a faint smirk. "We wanted to be sure. Can't blame us."

Her head fell back down to his shoulder, limp and heavy. "Sure of what? They okay? Something wrong?"

Clint shook his head. "No, nothing's wrong. They're both healthy. Just wanted to make sure the baby didn't go turncoat on you."

She was quiet and he knew she was putting the pieces together. "Clint…"

He smiled at her awed tone of voice, fighting the quiver threatening to enter his jovial declaration. "Little Natasha Wanda Barton, ready to take on the world and kick ass in five months."

This time the shake he felt next to him wasn't pain induced and he glanced over to see her lips shaking in an effort to keep the cries in, beads of tears swelling in the corner of her eyes. One escaped, tracing over the apple of a cheek.

She took in a breath, letting it slowly out as she tried to cover up her emotions. She turned to look up at him, smiling with just the smallest hitch in her voice. "With those two namesakes you bet she's gonna kick ass."

He laughed, hearing the faint sound of movement from outside the store. Natasha stiffened next to him and he knew she heard it too.

"You know, with all the shit I've been through, I can't really hate it. It brought me to Shield, to Laura and the kids, to you, to the Avengers. It gave me a family to love."

"Yeah. Me too." Natasha was quiet, her voice so tiny he almost didn't hear it. "Love you Clint."

This time another sound, getting closer, louder. Clint gripped his bow, arrow notched and ready. He turned his head to reply to his red-haired sister, but he froze, body tensing. "Tash?"


Voice soft and croaky, he tried again. "Natasha?"

Her head was limp against his shoulder, the rest of her body sagged and curled against his side. There was no telling movement from his gifted gold arrow necklace that laid on her sternum.

He gritted his teeth, biting back the angry cry that wanted to break free. He took in a few breaths, controlling his pain and letting his head tilt just a bit. Enough to place a kiss on her crown of red waves. "It's okay. I got you Tasha. I got you."

The doors slammed open and Clint's expression smoothed over, hiding the grief he felt and letting the murderous anger chill his stare as one by one the four new large members of Thanos' Black Order entered the building. He didn't know what they were nor did he care. These four had been terrorizing the general populace and the remaining Avengers for days, the one on the far right giving Natasha her fatal wound. One stepped forward and that started the whole group to walk toward him. He flexed his fingers, loose but ready. He just needed them to get a bit closer.

One snarled at him, stopping only a couple feet away from the injured Avenger, lifting his weapon and pointing it at the archer. Perfect.

Clint growled back at them, white hot fury boiling under his skin. "You can go straight to Hell you ugly sons of bitches!"

His movement was swift, too abrupt for his assailants, as he let the incendiary arrow fly off to his right, striking the mass collection of propane gas tanks.

~~~Warrior's Prayer~~~

"…Lo, they do call to me…"

They were reaching the fourth block, keeping a look out for any enemies. So far there had been none. The Captain nodded at them and they took off across the street for the next building.

"They bid me take my place on Asgard in the halls of Valhalla, where the b–"

The ground beneath their feet shook and they crouched to steady themselves as the shockwave advanced over them. The explosion rolled through the small town like thunder as several buildings burst apart in angry flames, all gathered around one point.

The three paused, watching the black clouds billow into the air, fed by fire and debris.

The Captain looked down, hand covering his face, shoulders slumped. Thor joined the Midgardian in his mourning, eyes swelling with tears as two more friends perished. On the other side of him Loki finished off the prayer they'd started on behalf of Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff.

"…where the brave may live forever."

Yeah. I don't know why I do these things to myself. The prayer Thor and Loki said is suppose to be a Norse thing. If anyone has watched 13th Warrior with Antonio Banderas, that's where I got it from. Let me know what you guys think. Peace out. -Mez