Disclaimer: The Avengers characters are not mine, just borrowed for this story.

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The Road to Hell is Paved with Good Intentions

Tony sat at the bar in the living room poring over files he had managed to obtain from SHIELD through less than honest means. He had been at it all night, and the more he learned the less thrilled he was becoming. The subject of his hack was Keres, the mysterious product of SHIELD that some bad guys had tried to steal a few weeks ago from the bank that Pepper and Barton had been in. The result of their efforts had been a seriously injured Clint, a terrified Pepper and another brush with the secret side of SHIELD.

In the end Keres was safe, the bad guys taken down, Clint on his way to recovery and Tony wondering just who had been more afraid, Pepper or himself. The situation had also brought to light a rather interesting oversight on most of the team's part; their unity needed work, especially where Barton was concerned. The man had an amazing ability to fade into the background, and the team had taken for granted that he was there. Tony required everyone's attention all the time so it wasn't like he was going to go unnoticed, and how could anyone miss Thor in the grand scheme of things? Everyone was aware of Natasha; her 'I could kill you with a paper clip and a straw and not break a sweat' demeanor demanded attention and awareness. Bruce could never fall through the cracks with the team because the Hulk could never fit in any crack, and Steve was so out of place sometimes it was hard to overlook; but Barton liked to fade into the background and unfortunately, as Tony realized, they let him.

The recent situation had made that observation painfully clear to Stark; though he had to credit Pepper with that one too. He might not have realized it if Clint hadn't worked so hard to save the one person Tony deeply cared for; thus exposing the fact there weren't a lot of people willing to do that for Barton himself. Sure Natasha would have done it; she proved that with the whole Loki incident, but when she wasn't there, and there wasn't a long line of people to take her place. Even SHIELD, who Tony thought would always back Romanoff and Barton, what with them being their people and all, deemed the guy to be expendable.

Stark's motivation had been Pepper and her safety; but after almost losing the archer, he told himself that he was going to rectify the situation. Judging by the way it affected Steve and Bruce as well, it was something they were all going to try and work on.

Clint was released to their care a few days earlier, but he was still far from completely healed. The doctors had sent him to Stark tower with crutches that Tony had noticed spent more time in the living room, than with the archer. Clint had hinted that he would appreciate some time alone and the team decided to respect his wishes; well, for a few days at least. In the meantime Tony wanted to find out just what SHIELD was willing to sacrifice his friends for.

"What are you working on?" asked Natasha who had managed to sneak up on the billionaire.

Tony flinched at the unexpected presence over his shoulder, but didn't acknowledge the stealthy spy.

She had a hunch what Tony was doing. She had been informed that he had once again accessed SHIELD systems and had been sent by Fury to find out what he had found out about Keres; apparently the Director wasn't even surprised at this intrusion of their systems. Natasha wasn't sure if she should take it personally or not, that he didn't even try to hide the fact that he was looking at secret documents from her; the SHIELD insignia was prominently displayed for anyone to see that he was up to no good. "I'm going to pretend that I don't see that," Romanoff offered, gesturing to the computer screen.

"It would be better if you did," was the snapped reply.

Natasha raised an eyebrow at the lack of fear from Stark. She'd just have to do something to make him slightly wary of her again. It wasn't anything overly personal, she just preferred to put the fear of god in people; Tony merely had an air about him that made Natasha enjoy the prospect all the more.

"Don't give me that look," Stark said without even looking at his uninvited companion. "How's Barton?"

"Asleep." Determined to continue her recon she patiently asked "what have you found out?"

"The usual; your super secret spy club has been up to some not very nice stuff. Maybe you could tell me why they would need something like this?"

"Something like what?"

"Keres. You're telling me you don't know what it does?"

She shook her head. "It's not my mission to know what it is, just that it is."

Stark snorted, and continued flipping through diagrams and charts. "And just what kind of mission is going to require a drug like this?" Tony handed the tablet to Romanoff so she could read the brief on the project.

"You'd be surprised," said Natasha with her usual detached coolness.

"No, I think I just wouldn't like myself in the morning."

The two debated the merits of means and methods versus outcome, unaware of the third party watching them from around the corner.

Barton had wandered out of his room to grab a glass of water, when he heard his name mentioned in the living room; his interest had been piqued and he hobbled towards the entrance and watched the pair at the bar counter. He didn't follow everything they were talking about; his irritation at them discussing him was clouding his focus. He did notice that they seemed rather chummy lately. When the hell did they become best friends?

He knew it wasn't rational, but the thought of Natasha being friendly with Stark angered him. He didn't own her and really she could have any kind of relationship with anyone that she wanted, but watching her there tonight felt like a betrayal of some kind; then there was the fact that their clandestine midnight rendezvous centered on discussing him. Worried that he might do something he would regret later, he stormed back to his room and locked the door.

Clint couldn't shake the nagging suspicion that he should be wary about what his friends might be planning. In an effort to calm his racing mind he grabbed his bow and quiver and propped them on the bed beside him. He spent the night staring at the door; what he was waiting for he wasn't sure, but he couldn't be too careful.