The quinjet limped through the clouds, its systems half-fried and the cabin thick with the smell of scorched metal and quiet defeat. Outside the windows the world looked ordinary again fields, roads, the soft green of the Midwest but none of them felt ordinary. Natasha sat with her arms folded, staring at nothing. Bruce had already retreated into silence. Tony paced the narrow aisle like a caged animal, still arguing with himself about the vision Ultron had forced into his head. Steve stood near the cockpit, one hand resting on the bulkhead, steady as always. Thor was the last to speak. “We could go to Asgard,” he said. His voice was low, almost careful. “The Bifrost still answers me. My father’s halls are defended by the might of the Nine Realms. Ultron would not find us there.” For a moment no one answered. The idea hung in the air—golden towers, eternal light, a place where the sky itself was different. A place that had never known the particular weight of Earth. Clint, who had been quiet since they left the ruined tower, finally looked up from the pilot’s seat. “Yeah,” he said. “And then what? We show up on Odin’s doorstep with a broken team, a mind-control android on the loose, and zero answers? You think your dad’s just gonna let us crash on his couch while we figure this out?” Thor’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. Steve spoke next, quieter. “We need somewhere Ultron doesn’t know. Somewhere that isn’t on any map. Somewhere that feels… human.” Clint gave a tired half-smile. “Lucky for us, I know a place.” The farmhouse appeared out of the rolling hills like a secret the land had been keeping. White paint, a porch swing, laundry on the line. A woman stepped out onto the porch with a child on her hip and two more running ahead of her. For the first time since the battle, something in Clint’s face softened. They landed. They walked across the grass. They stepped into a house that smelled of coffee and woodsmoke and the ordinary miracle of a life that had somehow stayed intact. Later, when the sun was low and the kids had been sent upstairs, the team sat in the living room that was too small for all of them. Thor stood near the window, looking out at the quiet fields as if he were still weighing the distance between this place and the shining city he could have taken them to. No one said it out loud, but the thought lived in the room with them: Why did the Avengers hide at Clint's farmhouse in Age of Ultron instead of going to Asgard? Wouldn't Thor's home have been a much safer place to recover?