***REVISED CHAPTER***
Emory surveyed the darkness around her, tiny shards of light seeping in from around the curtains to dance along the wall. She lay in bed, wondering what had woken her. Before she could discount the odd feeling and go back to sleep, she heard it again.
There. A faint scratching noise, coming from the front of the house. The sound played on the edges of her hearing, just barely loud enough for her sensitive ears to pick up. Realizing her concerns were well-founded, she reached over the side of the bed to the table beside it. A security feed pulled up on her iPad showed a group of heavily armed men at the door.
She raised an elegant eyebrow before grabbing a comm piece and her pistol from beneath the same table, jumping into action. Currently the men were trying to pick the lock, probably to keep their presence as quiet as possible, but she knew it would not hold them for long. Eventually they would just break the door down. She needed to be gone by then.
Creeping from the room, her cats ghosted from the shadows to wrap themselves around her legs, purring and meowing with urgency. They knew something was wrong as well.
"Tonight we flee my friends, this is no place for a fight." They settled into the carrier she offered and she moved down the hallway.
Lifting her hand up, she called quietly over the comms. "Anyone out tonight? I could really use some backup."
A lengthy pause stretched out before a reply came through. "I'm about 15 out Emory, what's the problem?"
Relief. "Well Clint, I have visitors, and I don't think they are here to carol the Yuletide season. Right now they are trying to pick the lock."
Another long pause.
"I hear you. I expect you are already initiating an evasion plan?"
"You know I prefer not to fight. It gets...messy." Almost to the end of the hallway, she turned as a racket of splintering wood and manly grunts spilled into the living room. She sighed. "Damn! They got tired of fooling with the lock and are breaking the door down. Too late to run now."
Reaching her intended door, she stepped in and bolted it behind her. Turning back, she took in the quiet scene before her. A crib sat under the window, a slot of moonlight falling perfectly on it to illuminate the angelic infant lying within. Dark raven eyelashes rested on ivory cheeks, and matching curls tumbled around a tiny face.
"Is Cara with you tonight?" Hawkeye's voice chimed through, breaking the silence and magic of the room. Emory shook herself out of her short trance and turned back to the task at hand.
Picking up the sleeping infant, she quickly looped her into a sling while answering the question. "Of course she is. I'm going to have to hide her, fight, and then run before a second wave arrives."
"Well I'm on my way, about 10 minutes. Keep me posted and stay safe. No crazy risk tonight."
"Crazy risks, me? I'll do my best," she replied dryly. "Over and out for now."
Now that backup was on its way, the agent carried her child to the opposite wall. A quick code typed into the hidden keypad there revealed a special nook. The cubby hole was fully stocked with an emergency backpack, assault rifle, and Kevlar vest.
Trading Cara and the cats for the equipment, she shrugged into the vest and shouldered the silenced rifle.
The hidden door of the nook shut with a decisive click, reassuring Emory that her loved ones were safe. She turned and strode out of the room with purpose, bare feet padding across the carpeted floor. She hadn't had time to dress, or put on shoes. Oh well.
She imagined she was quite a sight, a Kevlar vest over tank top and shorts, and bare feet as well. Emory grinned despite herself. Clint would get a kick out of this for sure.
Another crash sounded through the house followed by the hard stamp of several booted feet on hardwood. The door was compromised.
Turning the corner, she dropped down on one knee, raised her rifle, and quietly downed the point man before darting into the kitchen. One. She had to depend on the darkness and her knowledge of the layout to give her an advantage.
Skirting around where she guessed the back of the be, she did a quick mental count of the remaining men. Six left.
Hmm, odds aren't bad then, she thought, before coming up behind a man and plunging her long serrated knife into his soft flesh, right where the neck met the shoulder. Two.
She laid him down against the wall with care, still relying on stealth. It was then that they came upon the first man on the ground, and all hell broke loose. She moved forward into the room, ducking below a fast swing to slip her blade between the ribs. Three.
Before he even reached the floor, the agent had twisted again, swinging her knife out to the next assailant, only to be blocked. Not discouraged, she swirled around behind him, her long dark hair following in her wake. Coming up flush against his back, she reached up and snapped his neck. Four.
Her knife went flying across the floor in the chaos, and she rolled to the side to avoid the spray of bullets that came her way. Mid-roll Emory pulled her own pistol, neatly taking out the last man. Five.
As he dropped to the ground, she took in the macabre scene before her. Sprays of blood decorated her carpet like some bizarre work of art. Someone would probably buy it too.
As the cynical thought crossed Emory's mind, she did another count, realizing her mistake. There were only five bodies. She ducked and rolled to her left on instinct, coming up against the island of the kitchen.
Lurching from his missed swing, the last man stumbled to his knees in front of her, where she waited with pistol ready. He looked up at her, no remorse, no regret. Just acceptance. She obliged his expectations, shooting him between the eyes. Six.
The battle over, she drew in a deep breath and then let it out. After a moment, she moved back to the nursery. Pausing again the doorway, she took in the violet walls, a detailed mural of a white picket fence bordered by daffodils and lilies, and the delicate wings of her crystal butterfly mobile gently turning over the crib. It would be a long time before they came back, if ever.
She sighed again. She had gotten caught up in the peaceful existence of her maternity leave, forgetting what a violent and unforgiving world they lived in.
"Alright Clint, this batch is gone. Cara and I are headed for the back garage. We will meet you at Safe House Delta." Clint's terse voice sounded through the comm. "Roger that. I took care of the men waiting out back already. I'll flank you for the second half and we can meet up at the elevator."
Re-accessing the nook hidden in the wall, she slung Cara around her, shouldered the backpack, and grabbed the cats before heading for the back door.
She stood in the shadows of fence running the length of the property, contemplating the peaceful landscape of her quiet suburban neighborhood. Trees were lit by dim street lamps, making every shadow suspect.
Cold seeped up from the ground into her feet, still bare. It forced a shiver through her small frame. At least Cara was warm in her sling.
Reassured by the continued silence, she crept from shadow to shadow towards the dark garage in the corner of the lot, skirting the cooling bodies of yet more soldiers. The large building hunkered low to the ground, a single light swaying back and forth like a beacon of hope.
Once she reached the door and let herself in, Emory released a breath. She could handle this fine by herself, but the bundle that was her daughter resting against her heart raised the stakes. Her nerves were slightly frazzled with worry for Cara's safety.
Towards the back of the garage sat a black SUV, waiting. Hurrying to get in, she called over the comm again. "I'm in the car, ETA 10 minutes."
"I'm right above you Em, you look all clear from here. Head out and I'll tail you."
From the sky, Clint had a bird's eye view of Emory's situation, just as he liked it. He used that to his best advantage, scoping far to the east and west. From here he could see the long roads coming up from the countryside, which should be deserted this time of night.
That made them a prime highway for incoming enemies. Sure enough, a cloud of dust rose in the distance, the only indication of the approaching force.
He swiveled the quinjet to face towards them, and flipped a switch on the dash. "Emory we need to move. That second wave is only six mikes out."
A lever and a knob later, and the weapons were primed, just in case. Heaven help us if I have to start shooting in this suburbian hell. The UN would have a field day with that.
"They will be on us in a few minutes, get your ass out of there!"
As if on cue, the SUV tore out of the garage and onto the street, heading further into the city. Clint took the time to shake his head and smile as the vehicle careened around corners and raced down alleyways, creating a confusing pattern that was difficult to follow even from the air.
She should have been a damned racer, he thought to himself.
Before too long the convoy behind them was out of view and the safe house in sight. The SUV disappeared into the black maw of an underground parking garage beside a nondescript, grungy vehicle.
Clint landed the shielded quinjet in a designated area, knowing that Emory would wait for him before getting out of the vehicle.
He left the jet and strode to the safe house, keeping an eye out from his peripherals. A steel arrow gleamed in the moonlight from its place nocked in his bow. Once in, he moved to stand next to the SUV door.
The tiny brunette stepped out with care, looking around as she fell in beside him. He was only a little shocked to see that she was practically indecent underneath a Kevlar vest, and barefoot to match. "Couldn't find your shoes but you had time to bring your cats? Really?'
She looked at him with bright irritated eyes. "My cats are very important to me, thank you. I couldn't bear to leave them anymore than Cara." She brought a hand up to caress her daughter's curls.
The infant in question was nestled into her mother's chest, sleeping in a sling of his and Stark's design, made especially for Cara when she was born. The sling held the infant snug against her mother, giving Emory optimal movement, while keeping Cara safe behind a special synthetic vibranium cloth that was damn near Hulk proof. They had tested.
He rolled his eyes and slouched against the sleek black car, still keeping a watch from his peripherals. "If you say so. You're the one losing an arm to that carrier, not me."
Emory delicately dragged air through her nose in an indignant huff, swinging her hair around as she retorted, "I think I will manage," before heading towards the elevator.
It was good to know they could keep up this banter even now. It meant Emory wasn't so high strung she might make a mistake
He knew she had to be stressed, what with Cara, and even the cats, being in danger.
His long legs and her shorter ones ate up meters as they walked, dull metal doors looming closer and closer. Once in, the woman beside him leaned her body against the wall and sighed deeply, the air escaping her nose in a rush.
"What do you think this is all about?" All he got in reply was a slight shrug, so he pressed on. "I'm all for having an exit route, but to actually need it?"
She glanced up from where she studied her shoes in silence, giving him another shrug before replying. "I'm not sure. There's no telling really, what with all the enemies Kyle and I have built up together over the years."
She looked up sharply then, blue eyes piercing his. "Does anyone have eyes on him right now? I can't imagine I'm the only target in all of this."
He could see the worry she was holding in in the tiny crease between her eyes and the slightly droopy corners of her mouth. It was her tell, how he knew when she was in intense concentration and strain.
Understandable though, seeing as her husband was on mission for two weeks and now this popped the peaceful bubble of her maternity leave.
"Nat's been with him for the past couple of days, she'll keep him out of trouble. We can find out once we get settled." She nodded absently, obviously not really with him at the moment. Instead she gazed at the lights slowly moving up with the floors.
Before long they reached their floor, and once the door opened she snapped back into the present.
Stepping out behind Emory, Clint noticed as soon as she stiffened, and he was back on high alert. Ahead a small pale man waited for them, looking up them up and down.
"Fancy meeting you here."
Emory studied him under a hooded brow, obviously on guard. "Yes, well," she answered, "I felt like a late night walk. Do you have any coffee?" He smiled slightly. "Only decaf right now, Bridgette went out for leaded."
She nodded slowly, as if to herself, before smoothly pulling out her pistol and firing two bullets into the man's chest. Clint simply raised an eyebrow as he watched the man crumple to the floor. He swung his curious gaze to his companion, looking at her until she answered his unspoken question.
"The safe house has been compromised. Bridgette and I worked out a pass code to give over if tortured. It would alert us that something was off." She shook her head slowly. "I imagine she's dead. We need to leave, the second wave will be here shortly. I'm sure they know where we are."
"We can just take the quinjet to Avengers Tower. Surely that will be safe enough." He watched her relax slightly before finally nodding in agreement. It was a strange reaction, as if Emory feared she might not be allowed haven.
That thought was ridiculous. Even as a SHIELD agent, she was a friend of several of the Avengers. They would never leave her and Cara out in the cold.
As they walked she finally replied, "Yeah that's going to have to be the plan for now. I hate being in the face of things, but I need to regroup somewhere. We can't keep running from place to place with Cara along.
Ah maybe that's it. She does hate being the center of attention. Emory was more of a background person. She preferred pulling strings and subtle manipulations to charging in guns blazing.
Although she's good at that too, he thought with part amusement, part respect.
With their new plan of action decided, they turned and left the unknown man's body lying in a growing pool of crimson. There was no need to linger, a team would come through to clean up and investigate what happened here.
As they took off, Emory relaxed that final bit. After making sure Cara was still sleeping soundly against her chest, she nodded off to sleep for the journey. She was safe among friends.