The Dark Archer

Chapter 22

Kylie POV

It felt amazing to be home again. And I don't mean New York. To me, the farm where I spent the first eight or so years of my life would always be home. It was there that I first learned how to shoot a bow and arrow with my father. I spent countless days playing in the woods or cooking in the farmhouse kitchen with my mother. Back then, there were no worries, even when Dad would go off on his SHIELD missions.

That's why I had chosen this place as my safe haven. That, and this place was off official SHIELD record. Dad had made sure of it when he got the place. He had wanted to make sure that no enemy of SHIELD could come after me or my mother.

So now, walking through the forest back to the farmhouse, I felt carefree and like a child again. It felt amazing after all the worry and stress I'd been through in the city. Despite the fact that Peter was in New York, the farm would always be home.

I finally arrived back at the farm. It hadn't been hard to find, considering I knew the surrounding woods like the back of my hand, but it had taken a hot minute to reach. When I did step out of the forest and back into the clearing where the farmhouse was built, I smiled broadly at the sight of my childhood home. Memories of happiness and laughter flooded my senses, and I closed my eyes to relive them. This place brought me back to a time when I always knew things were gonna be alright, and right now, that was a feeling I sorely needed.

I approached the house, and was surprised to find that it was exactly as we'd left it ten some odd years ago. Dad must have been coming back here to clean it up every once in a while. I stepped through the familiar doorway, and found that my Lego sets were still put together and left in random spaces on the floor, creating dangerous booby traps for those with bare feet.

I carefully navigated through the living room and walked to the kitchen. I opened the old pantry door and found it fully stocked with dried and canned foods that could last a long while. There were also a couple cases of water bottles at the bottom. Dad must have been planning to hide back here in case of an emergency.

I left the kitchen and all it's goodies and made my way back through the Legos in order to go upstairs. I climbed the still sturdy steps and walked to my bedroom at the end of the hall. I opened the door, which creaked as it swung open, to reveal that my little room hadn't changed a bit. My little full sized bed was still adorned in light green sheets, and my walls were still painted in a forest pattern. My tiny tea table still had a tea set intact with my stuffed animals enjoying it. And finally, there were still drawings of my family posted on my wall.

Every one of them had one. I had drawn Thor, Tony, Bruce, Nat, Dad, Steve, Wanda, Vision, Bucky, Rhodey, and even Pietro and Fury, though I never met Pietro, and I didn't meet Bucky, Sam, and Rhodey until much later. I drew them from the descriptions and stories my father gave. I approached each childish drawing and ran a finger along the lines of them. I looked up, and saw the sign I had made that said "My Family" in jagged crayon. I smiled wistfully at the simple time, when I knew I could trust all of my family. But that time wasn't now.

My smile faded as I remembered how my father took me down, in civilian dress no less! I knew it was his mission, his job, but couldn't he have spared his own daughter? Shouldn't he have helped me escape, and not Bucky and Bruce? Not to say that I didn't appreciate their help, because I did, but I was also heartbroken that my father didn't bother to help me. And neither did Aunt Nat. Two of my closest family members, and they betrayed me and refused to save me. What kind of family is that?

I felt my nostrils flaring and my body trembling in anger, and in that anger, I ripped my father's picture off the wall. I watched it flutter to the floor, and felt tempted to rip it to shreds, but I certainly wasn't that angry or violent. I threw myself on my tiny bed and cried. I cried that my family betrayed me. I cried out of anger, and out of sadness. I cried for the brokenness of my family, from the broken members themselves to their terrible pasts. I cried so hard that I eventually cried myself to sleep, with tear streaks across my face and swollen red eyes. That was how my father would find me.