"I've been a wild rover for many a year, and I spent all my money on whiskey and beer..." Phil's head snapped up as that familiar song percolated through the crowds around him, nearly making him splash hot coffee down the front of his shirt and over his sling. And that would have just pissed him and medical off again, so he hastily rescued his coffee and glanced around, gray-green eyes scanning the crowds as he tried to home in on that voice. But no one person stood out to him, and so Coulson turned back, rubbing a hand over his face.

Damn.

"Tony..."

"Not now, Steve, I'm busy with this...thing..."

"Tony, we need to talk."

"C'mon, Cap, just five minutes, that's all I'm asking- HEY!" Steve pulled the torch away and sighed as Tony glared up at him.

"You know, some of us do have work to do for a multimillion dollar company, and Pepper told me she'd yank my coffee again if I didn't get this shit done today." Steve just matched his glare and sat down next to him, face unusually serious.

"Fury's lying to us." He replied calmly, and Tony rolled his eyes, shoving his welding goggles up to quirk an eyebrow at the super soldier.

"Yeah, what's new about that? Fury lies like Dummy makes shakes; all the fuckin' time." Steve's lips twitched at that, and he covered his mouth with one hand.

"Tony..."

"It's true, and you damn well know it. So spill; other than Fury lying, what's got your plaid in a knot?" The captain rolled his eyes and held up his tablet, much abused as it was by various accidental falls from his coffee table. Across the display, Hawkeye's image and various data brightened his section of the workshop, and Tony squinted a little, reading. "Agent Barton, age thirty-seven, primary weapons are the StarkTech compact bow and modified .243 Winchester bolt action scout rifle...currently on special mission status...Y-yeah, we knew that, Steve. What's the matter?"

"It's been almost seven months since Loki's defeat. And we saw him once after that battle. After that...he and Natasha left and he hasn't been seen since."

"He's on a deep cover mission, then. Not surprising. Natasha said he was looking forward to getting back to work." Steve looked a little pained at that, and Tony heaved a sigh. "Look, Rogers...Barton's not a normal kind of guy; he's a spy and an assassin, and he's powerful, but...he's a lone wolf. Natasha and Coulson were his partners, not us...and let's be honest here. The guy had his brain fucked over by Thor's little brother, and that would screw with anyone. Small wonder he just wants a taste of normalcy. And if deep cover is what he needs...who are we to tell him no? Let him do his job, the only way he knows how, and let's just...be here when he comes back." Tony had to smile as Steve grumbled again, and he clapped a greasy hand on the other man's shoulder, ignoring the wince at black streaking his beloved blue plaid.

"Still...I don't like this."

"You'd be an idiot if you did. Now, go make sure Coulson isn't pining or anything; God knows he's oblivious when he's thinking about Barton." Steve rolled his eyes this time and stood up, wiping off his shirt as best he could.

"So are you when you're engineering. Fine, I'll keep him company...come join us at some point tonight?" Tony shrugged, and Steve just smiled, heading back up to the common room and on the search for their elusive handler. But Phil wasn't in the library, or the kitchen, or his favorite part of the den...finally, Steve caved. "Jarvis, where's Agent Coulson?"

"Agent Phil Coulson has left the premises, Captain Rogers." Steve's brow furrowed, and he pulled up the agenda plan he'd laid out months before, and sure enough, Phil was out of the Tower, running paperwork for SHIELD and a few other agencies.

"Well, I guess I'll leave him alone, then. Hey, Jarvis?"

"Yes, Captain?"

"Tell Tony I'm making coffee." There was the faintest of chuckles.

"I shall inform sir immediately."

The walk to the CIA's New York offices wasn't too long, and with his sling finally off, Coulson figured a walk downtown wouldn't be too strenuous. And he was right; it was comfortably warm, the breeze was gentle, and he felt better than he had in a long time. Even though he felt like he was missing his right arm without Barton at his back. Damn, I've got it bad. C'mon, Phil; he'll be back in a few more months...maybe...Fury, at his best, lied like a snake, and Phil wasn't really believing the whole 'Barton's deep cover' schitck. Natasha was, for some odd reason, but Phil? Ever since last week, when he'd heard those familiar strains of 'Wild Rover', he'd been encountering that voice in a crowd, singing the likes of the Stones, Springsteen, and Steely Dan...and more and more, Phil was convinced that his agent wasn't on some mission in Venezuela or somewhere; he was right here, in New York.

"Break a heart, break a heart of stone..." He stopped dead, eyes wide, as that soulful croon washed over him, and the name slipped out before he had a chance to censor himself. It couldn't be...

"Clint!"

Natasha looked over the tops of her sunglasses, eyes narrowed. She'd seen Coulson on her morning run to get coffee, and watching him just...stop like that was unnerving enough...until she heard the name from his lips. Clint? But Clint's... "Open it up, but don't you leave it alone..." She gasped and glanced around, eyes lighting on a homeless man in rags, sitting on the bench just behind her handler...dark eyes locked on his navy suit. She ghosted around the perimeter and came up to the bench, clapping her hand on his shoulder.

"What the hell are you doing here, Barton?" She purred dangerously, tightening the grip.

"Barton? Who th' hell's Barton?" The man who turned to look up at her, wincing, was easily in his fifties, more heavily bearded than Clint could ever get, and infinitely filthier. She released hm and backed away, apologizing quietly as she slipped back into the crowds. But that, that was his voice...no one else had quite the same tenor, and definitely no one used it to sing Alice Cooper ballads like he did. But she couldn't find him, couldn't pinpoint anything...and that raised a level of fear in her that she hadn't felt since she'd defected. Clint...where are you?

"He's eluding capture, Director." Hill's voice was tired, brittle on the edges, and Fury acknowledged it with a calm glance, the slightest of nods for her to continue. "We have been seeking all leads but he's just a ghost right now..."

"The only person to match him is Agent Romanov, and with her unbalanced, he can do whatever he damn well pleases. Alright. Stark's suspicious, so feed him the line about Columbia, and get Rogers onto something that'll distract him."

"And Agent Coulson?" Fury leaned forward at that, lone dark eye watching her.

"We keep him so damned busy that the mockingbird outside never has a chance to sing."