Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel. If I did, than Clintasha would totally be canon. And they would be in every movie and have their own tv series. #Clintashaforever.

I've finally finished my uni degree! hip-hip-hurray! To celebrate, here is another story from my Avengers-themed Universe for you to enjoy.

To continue celebrating my new found freedom, I will also be posting a LOTR two-shot within the next day or two, so keep an eye out for that!

And, happy coincidence, this story arrives just in time to celebrate Thor: Ragnarok, hitting cinemas in a couple of weeks' time! Double, triple hurray!

This two-shot is set in my Choices and Second Chances Universe. It is based off both the Thor movie, and the graphic novel, Fury's Big Week. I have changed things slightly, but it remains mostly faithful to the source material.

Enjoy another bit of the CSC Universe! It's been a while.


Chapter 1:

Clint opened one eye when the car came to a stop.

"Are we there yet?"

Clint opened the other eye, and pulled one of his eye buds out, in time to hear the driver's door closing. Sitting up properly, Clint looked through the windscreen. What he saw made him freeze.

Holy shit.

What was that thing?

Clint made it out of the car in record time, pausing only to grab his sunglasses. The glare of the New Mexican desert was unforgiving.

Coulson was standing just out of sight of the virtual circus that was going on below them. He was wearing his Bland Agent Look as he spoke into his phone, no doubt giving HQ an update. Clint wandered to the edge of the impression (thought calling it an impression was a vast understatement, it was a giant crater thank you very much) and just stared at the sight below him. Thanks to his exceptional eyesight, he could see the smallest details like they were situated less than a metre in front of him.

Wait, was that a hammer? What the hell was going on here?

Clint wished he knew the answer to that. But at this point, no one knew what was going on here. That was the precise question they'd come to answer. The reason he'd been pulled away from Natasha and sent to the middle-of-nowhere New Mexico.

Coulson hung up his phone, and came to join him.

"The rest of the crew will be here within two hours. We won't move in until backup arrives."

Clint just nodded. It made sense to wait. At the moment, they were heavily outnumbered. Still, Clint frowned at the scene below them.

"I just wish that I knew what was going on here. That object down there looks like a hammer, but..."

Coulson interrupted him.

"What do you mean, a hammer?"

"You know, the thing that you normally use to bang nails into wood. Though it does have other uses as well."

Coulson's expression clearly stated that he didn't appreciate Clint's sass right now.

"I know what a hammer is, smart-arse. Are you sure?"

Clint looked wounded.

"Coullllllsssssooon, you wound me. Hawk eye's, remember? I can see every little detail of what is happening down there. And the 0-8-4 certainly looks a lot like a hammer."

Coulson's bland expression didn't change, even as his eyes glinted before he put his own dark glasses back on and hid them from view.

"Well, that makes things that much more interesting."


Clint watched the scientist chick arguing with Coulson regarding him appropriating all her research, and grimaced in sympathy. He understood her frustrations. It would be tough to work on something for years, only to have all your hard work taken out from under your nose, without so much as a please, by a faceless government agency.

"Okay Mac, I think that's the last of it."

Clint moved out of the way to make room for the agents to carry the large crate out of the doorway. Once they were gone, seeing that the building was now empty, Clint wandered towards the truck and his handler. He hovered in the background and watched Coulson as the scientist continued to chew him out. It was rather amusing, up until Agent Delancey forcibly took a notebook from her hands. That was when things almost got ugly, as she tried to get it back. She almost received a dislocated shoulder for her efforts, when Delancey twisted her arm around behind her back.

Clint frowned. Delancey was a bit of a jerk, that was for sure. But, being ready to hurt an unarmed civilian, and a young female one at that, was taking things a tad far. Clint noticed the slight tightening of the skin around Coulson's eyes as he stopped them, and knew that Delancey would be reamed out for his actions later. Possibly even put on report, depending on how pissed-off and stressed Coulson was by then.

The conversation was apparently finished, as Coulson smiled his blandest smile at the science trio before jerking his head in Clint's general direction.

"Barton. Let's go."

Clint scrambled into the driver's seat of their truck and started the engine. A few seconds later, Coulson joined him.

Clint put the van into gear, and followed the rest of the convey back towards the crash site. Coulson didn't say anything, and Clint soon felt the need to break the awkward silence that had descended.

"I kind of feel bad for her you know. I understand her frustrations."

Coulson sighed as he finally glanced across at Clint.

"I know. But we don't have a choice. We don't know what we are dealing with here, and it could potentially be dangerous. For that reason, we can't take any chances with anything. I don't like it either, but it's the only thing we can do."

Clint scowled as the convey left the outskirts of Puerto Antiguo.

"It's still not fair on her."

Coulson slumped in his seat and run a weary hand over his brow. Since they were the only people in this vehicle, he had dropped the stoic mask he normally wore, allowing his frustrations to show.

"I know Clint, I know. And, if all goes well, when we have finished with it, she can have her research back. After we take complete and thorough copies of everything of course."

"Of course." Clint rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't expect anything less from the mighty SHIELD."

Coulson ignored him, and a quick glance revealed his handler had closed his eyes at some point. Even though there was no way he was going to stop Phil from getting some much-needed rest while he could, Clint pouted slightly (just because he could) as they drove along in silence.

They were almost at the compound before Clint decided to speak again. He knew Phil was awake by now, thanks to his changed breathing patterns. After sharing the same room, and occasionally even the same bed, on missions for years, Clint was very attuned to knowing if Phil was awake, asleep, or faking it.

"So, what happens now, boss?"

Phil sighed as he opened his eyes fully and stared at nothing as he gathered his thoughts.

"Now, we set up all this equipment, and our own, in the temporary command centre that Sitwell should have had constructed by now. Then we let the scientists out to play, and wait to see what happens."

Clint nodded as he pulled into the temporary parking lot behind the rest of the vehicles.

"Maybe we should just wait and see if the alien that this hammer belongs to turns up."

Phil grimaced.

"I wish that you would stop calling it a hammer. It is currently listed as an 0-8-4; and is possibly of extra-terrestrial origin. We haven't confirmed that yet, however."

Clint sighed as he rested his forearms on the steering wheel.

"Well, I just hope that this gets sorted out soon so that I can get back to Tasha. It's heading up to our sixth-year anniversary."

Now it was Phil's turn to sigh, as he placed a hand on the door handle, and prepared to go back to his position as base commander.

"I know. Trust me; I will never forget that mission. It was very memorable, even more so than Venice was."


That night.

Clint warmed up his third MRE as he listened to the thunder booming overhead. A particularly loud clap caused him to jump as his and Coulson's trailer shook like a leaf. Wow, this was shaping up to be some storm. It hadn't even started raining yet.

Clint sat on the top step of the trailer as he ate his meal, and watched the frenzy of activity that was going on over around the hammer sight. Much to Coulson's chagrin, while the object might be labelled an 0-8-4 in the official accounts, all the agents on sight were referring to it as 'the hammer'.

The pained look on his handler's face when the lead scientist had referred to it in that way, while babbling about the schematics of the thing, had been priceless. Clint had managed to snap a picture of it on his phone to show Natasha later. He'd have to show Coulson as well, after he'd made a copy of it. Always good to have a back-up, especially in case his handler confiscated his phone and deleted the image. He couldn't let that happen, as it would make great blackmail material for the next time they wanted Coulson to agree to something.

Clint's thoughts were interrupted by yet another huge rumble of thunder that made the whole desert shake, even as it started to rain. Agents ran around shouting at each other as everyone fumbled their way into weatherproof gear or went under cover. Clint was just thinking he should probably go and find Coulson to see what was happening, when his comm suddenly crackled to life.

"We've got something outside the fence. West side."

Clint grinned as he listened to Sitwell order Jackson and Delancey to check it out. Finally, he might get some action. About time, so far this had to one of the most boring mission's he'd ever been on. Which was saying something, given all the surveillance missions he'd done in his career with SHIELD.

Suddenly, all the alarms in the compound began to blare out, even as the hazard lights they'd installed all over Tent City (sadly, that nickname hadn't stuck) began to flash. Clint didn't have to wait long to know what had happened, as an unidentified voice crackled through his comm.

"Agent down, we have a perimeter breach. Repeat, we have a perimeter breach!"

It was suddenly organised chaos as agents began running everywhere, collecting guns from the armoury, and rushing to cover the compound. Clint was wondering what he should do, when his comm suddenly clicked over to the private channel he shared with Coulson. There were advantages to your personal handler being the site commander.

"Barton, do you copy?"

"I copy Overwatch. What do you want me to do?"

"Get ready. We don't know who we're dealing with here."

"Or what. Maybe it's the extra-terrestrials come to reclaim their 0-8-4."

Coulson's sigh could be clearly heard over their private comm line.

"Just stay alert. If things get ugly, I want you to cover the object."

"Rodger that. Heading to the armoury now. Barton out."

Clint ran over to the trailer that was serving as their onsite armoury. He had just reached it, and ducked in out of the rain (belatedly realising he should have grabbed his waterproofs), when his comm crackled again.

"I need eyes up high, with a gun. NOW. Suspect has just entered the South-west tunnel, and is making tracks towards the object. Barton, you know what to do."

"Rodger that, Overwatch."

Clint went to grab one of the standard issue rifles. But, before he could lift it, he spied a compound bow sitting just above it on the rack.

Clint grinned. Forget the rifle, there was no way he was using one if he didn't have to.

His left shoulder was healed enough from the sprain he'd sustained four weeks previously, that he would be able to use the bow without compromising his shoulder. Compounds required less effort to draw than the recurve he normally used. And, if he used his right hand to draw the arrow, there would be even less strain on his healing shoulder.

Without wasting any more time, Clint grabbed the bow, stopping only to grab a handful of arrows (he probably only needed one as he didn't miss, but there was no telling how many intruders there were, or how many he would need to slow him down) before he raced out into the storm again. Clint headed towards the basket that, when raised by the crane, would give him a perfect view of the hammer and its immediate vicinity. Earlier on, when they had been discussing what to do when something like this happened, Coulson had made it clear that Clint's primary job would be to protect the 0-8-4.

As the crane ascended, Clint looked down on the activities below him. He was just in time to see one of the field agents come flying through the plastic side of the tunnel and land on the ground outside. Wow, whoever they were dealing with was sure putting up a fight. He appeared to be downing trained agents like they were nothing more than ten pins. Just as the basket reached the perfect position, directly over the top of the object, Clint's comm came to life again.

"Barton, talk to me."

Clint smirked down at the scene unfolding below him as he drew the bow.

"You want me to slow him down, sir? Or are you sending in more guys for him to beat up?"

There was a momentary pause.

"I'll let you know."

Clint kept the bow drawn (as it was a compound, it wasn't as hard to keep it drawn as one might think) as he watched the scene below him like a hawk, waiting for something to happen. He didn't have to wait long.

The intruder was almost to the object. Clint was just about to ask Coulson if he wanted the guy shot yet, when Tank suddenly came out of seemingly nowhere and stood in front of the guy, blocking his path to the hammer. Clint scowled. He didn't like Tank. The guy had too much muscle, and none of it was located in his head.

Clint was starting to get annoyed at Coulson for bringing in a guy whose speciality was knocking people on the head, when Clint had the perfect shot to end this once and for all. Clint knew that he could slow the intruder down with one well-placed arrow just as easily as Tank could punch him. It would be faster as well.

Hey, it didn't even need to kill him. Arrows through one's knee-caps was generally a pretty effective way of slowing them down.

However, as Clint watched the intruder match Tank blow for blow as they rolled around in the mud outside the tunnels, he started to feel that this intruder might not be so bad. Tank was an idiot. All he was good for was punching someone, or insulting people. Clint still harboured a grudge against the guy for the way he'd insulted Natasha once, after she'd told him point blank to piss off and leave her alone. He'd been shown the error of his ways; they'd both made sure of that. Clint was possessive and protective of what was his, and Tash definitely fitted into that category.

She was his, in the same way that he was hers.

Clint watched with more than a hint of vicious pleasure as their intruder quite literally beat Tank into the ground. Whoever this guy was, Clint was seriously starting to like him.

However, as the intruder approached the hammer, Clint decided that he probably should check in with Coulson. He'd told Clint that he'd let him know when he wanted the guy shot, but Clint hadn't heard anything since.

"You'd better call it Coulson. 'Cause I'm starting to root for this guy."

Hey, this guy had just knocked out Tank. Clint was feeling very friendly towards him right now.

However, as the guy approached the hammer and Coulson remained silent, Clint knew he had to do something.

"Last chance sir."

Clint drew back the string on his bow a little more, as he waited for Coulson to reply.

"Wait. I want to see this."

Clint sighed, but obediently waited and watched as the intruder put his hands on the handle of the hammer, and tried to lift it. Clint wasn't surprised when it didn't shift. Nothing they'd tried had made that thing budge. It was like it was cemented into the core of the earth.

However, Clint was not prepared for what happened next.

When he found he couldn't lift it, the guy looked to the sky and howled. There was no other way to describe the noise he was making. Clint watched in stunned shock as the hulking blond giant who'd just taken down a base full of highly trained SHIELD agents without even breaking a sweat, dropped to his knees next to the hammer and howled like a baby.

Clint was so focused on the scene below him, that Coulson's voice in his ear actually made him start.

"Alright, show's over. Ground units, move in."

Well, it would seem that was it then.

Clint lowered his bow, just as a sudden movement over the other side of the compound caught his eye. He wasn't called Hawkeye for nothing after all. Blinking to clear the rain from his eyelashes, Clint frowned as he watched a slim figure run towards a car that was parked just out of sight of the compound. As the person looked back over their shoulder, Clint recognised them with a start.

It was the scientist chick from this morning, the one whose research SHIELD had 'borrowed'.

Well, this made things more interesting.

As the girl jumped into her car and sped away, Clint focused his attention back on the scene below him. As soon as Coulson had given the word, agents had swarmed over the now still man. They'd wasted no time in securing him with the brand-new magnetic cuffs that SHIELD had recently developed. They were supposed to be un-pickable and stronger than steel.

As they marched him off to the brig for interrogation, and the crane started to descend, Clint thought over what had just happened.

Clint was pretty sure that they wouldn't get anything useful out of the guy they'd just arrested. Alien or mercenary, if he knew anything, he wasn't going to talk. Clint had had a lot of experience with mercenaries, both before SHIELD and after he'd joined. Hey, he'd even been one himself once. And if that experience had taught him anything, it was that the good ones generally didn't break easily. And their intruder was definitely one of the good ones.

And no amount of promises or pain would cause that kind of guy to give up information if he didn't want to.

And, if he really was an alien or not from around here, then who knew how much he could take before he broke.

Either way, Coulson was going to have to think up something really smart if he wanted to get anything useful from that guy before the next decade.


By the time Clint had put his bow away and made it into command central, Coulson was already interrogating the guy. Not wanting to disturb things just yet, Clint hung back and watched the happenings in the brig through the one-way mirror.

Just as he'd though, the guy wasn't saying anything. He wasn't doing anything either. He just sat there, looked at Coulson with a distant expression. Or rather, looked at nothing with a distant expression. Clint could tell Coulson was getting frustrated. It was barely noticeable, but Clint hadn't worked with Coulson as his handler for years for nothing. He knew Coulson's facial expressions and mannerisms better than he knew his own.

Clint wandered closer to the brig, keeping an eye on what was happening in case Coulson needed backup. As he passed one of the tables they'd set up with the possessions they'd seized from the scientists this morning, one item sitting there made Clint pause.

That was sacrilege.

The slightly scruffy but beautifully maintained iPod that was lying on top of a bunch of papers where someone had carelessly dumped it was obviously well-loved. And it had obviously been taken in the raid.

Seriously, what information did they expect to find on an iPod?

Looking around quickly to make sure that no one was paying him any attention, Clint slipped the small item into his jacket pocket before wandering away from the table.

Clint would literally kill anyone who even tried to take his own iPod away from him. Even after all his years spent with SHIELD, Clint still didn't have many personal possessions. Those few things he did have, he treasured greatly. Clint didn't know who owned this iPod, but he intended to get it back to them safely.

He wasn't sure how, but that didn't deter Clint. He'd find a way. He always did.

Clint wandered even closer to the brig as he continued to watch the stalemate that Coulson and their intruder were currently locked in. It was entertaining, but Clint decided that he needed to let Coulson know what he'd seen out there sooner rather than later. Surely it couldn't hurt them to take a short break.

Clint sent Coulson a quick text message, and watched as his handler pulled the phone out of his trouser pocket and checked it. After a moment, the door popped opened and Phil stepped out. He shut the door carefully before heading over to where Clint was standing.

Clint grinned at Phil's annoyed expression.

"He's not talking, is he?"

Coulson huffed.

"Not yet. Give me time."

Clint grinned even more.

"Something tells me he's not gonna break, no matter how much time he's given. I reckon he could survive torture for months, and still not give you anything. Questioning him is a waste of time."

Coulson looked towards the room, and their intruder, and sighed.

"You might be right. Do you have any better ideas?"

"Yeh. Cut him loose."

Coulson stared at Clint like he'd lost his reason.

"That guy just waltzed into a highly secure SHIELD compound and took down more than half of our trained agents without breaking a sweat. We've only just subdued him, and gotten him into custody. You are seriously suggesting that we let him walk? Just like that?"

"Yes, I am."

Clint held up his hand to stop Coulson from talking and continued.

"Don't forget, I had eyes on the whole scene. Just after you shackled 'im, I saw that scientist-chick from this morning run back towards her car and take off. The guy had to get out here somehow, we're miles from civilisation. Logic suggests that she gave him a lift, and hung around to see what would happen. When it went bad, she was about as subtle in getting away as he was in getting in."

Coulson was starting to look interested.

"So, what do you suggest?"

Clint shrugged.

"This guy might be a pro, but the people he's mixed up with don't have a clue what's going on either. No one seems to know what's going on here, expect that guy. And he's not talking. You want Intel on him? Cut him loose and give him a tail. That's my advice."

Coulson looked thoughtful.

"That's not a bad idea, actually. What we are currently doing certainly isn't getting us anywhere fast. I hadn't thought of it that way before."

Clint shrugged indifferently, but was secretly pleased.

"You know me sir. I see things that no one else does. It's why you keep me on the payroll."

Coulson looked even more thoughtful as they watched their prisoner go back to staring at nothing.

"I'll certainly think on what you've said. But right now, I've got work to do. Don't go far."

Clint plonked himself down in a chair that someone had just vacated, and spun it around to face the brig.

"I don't plan on going anywhere just yet boss. I want to see what happens here."

As Clint watched Coulson go back into the interrogation room, the hair on the back of his neck suddenly started tingling, and he got an uncomfortable feeling that he was being watched. Clint turned around to try and figure out who was watching him. As far as he could see, no one was paying him any mind. After a few moments, the feeling went away as suddenly as it had arrived. Clint was left feeling vaguely uneasy, and wondering what the hell had just happened.

It was yet one more thing to add to the list of things that didn't make sense in this mess.


Clint hung back in the shadows, and watched as the scientist guy from this morning (Erik Selvig, his brain helpfully supplied. He'd seen the file that Coulson had on him) tried to convince the Agent that the intruder was called Donald Blake, and that he was an astrophysicist. A very likely story. Clint didn't believe a word of it, and he knew Coulson didn't either. He was just playing along to see what happened.

It soon became apparent that Coulson was taking Clint's earlier advice, and cutting their prisoner loose. Selvig was escorted to the brig, and allowed to take the guy away with him. As soon as they were out of normal hearing range, Coulson turned to Clint.

"I hope that this idea of yours works."

Clint shrugged.

"It can't hurt, can it?"

"I guess we'll see about that."

Coulson went to the doorway, and raised his voice.

"Doctor Selvig."

The pair paused, but didn't turn around.

"Just keep him away from the bars."

"I will."

That promise was likely as true as everything else Selvig had said to them in the past hour. Coulson watched the pair walking away from them with a small frown.

"Follow them."

Clint was the only one within earshot, so he came forward to stand beside his handler.

"Are you talking to me, sir?"

Coulson turned his head to look at him.

"Yes. I want you to tail them back to town and watch them, but keep a low profile. I'll send someone out to relieve you in a few hours. Take the bike. It's less conspicuous than a car would be, especially if you drive without lights."

Clint grinned.

"Sir, yes sir. I knew bringing it would come in handy."

The slight droop in Coulson's shoulders was the only thing that betrayed his weariness. When he spoke, there was no trace of it in his voice.

"Just go Barton. Keep the comm open on our private channel, and report anything suspicious back to me directly. Hopefully this idea of yours works, and we'll finally get some Intel on what we're dealing with here."


Clint grinned as he watched Selvig and 'Donald' go into the pub. So much for keeping him away from the bars. Not that Clint was going to stop them having a drink or two. He was their tail, not their keeper.

Besides, them having a heart-to-heart at a bar made Clint's job a lot easier.

So long as Clint didn't do anything to draw unnecessary attention to himself, a bar was the perfect place to observe someone while remaining virtually invisible.

Clint slipped inside the building, and quickly took in the scene. It didn't take him long to spot Selvig and their intruder. They were sitting at the bar, having drinks and talking about their feelings. After a few minutes of eavesdropping, Clint didn't bother listening in anymore. They weren't talking about anything helpful, and he did not feel like listening to 'Donald' lament about how bad his life was. The guy had one argument with his daddy, and suddenly his world was ending. Yeh, Clint had better things to do then listen to that.

That being said, he'd better find something to do if he didn't want to stand out. Having a drink was out of the question. Clint didn't drink much, a consequence of growing up with an abusive drunk for a father. When he did drink, it was either essential for his cover, or he was with people he trusted. And, even then, he never had more than one or two drinks, and he never drank beer. Thankfully, the smell of it didn't trigger flashbacks anymore. But Clint couldn't bring himself to drink the thing that had caused his father to be so abusive towards him, Barney and their mom so long ago.

Clint saw a group of men laugh and slap each other on the back as they left the pool table. Clint grinned. The table was currently not being used, and Clint saw a nice little game of pool all by himself as being the perfect way to blend in. He'd just have to make sure that he wasn't too good at it. He didn't want to draw attention to himself. He could cream anyone in a game of pool, though Natasha and Phil were pretty damn good at it as well.

Clint kept on eye on Selvig and 'Donald' (he didn't have any other name for the guy right now) and privately thought to himself that they were drinking way too much alcohol. Donald seemed sober enough, but Selvig was obviously starting to get a bit tipsy by their third round. Clint sighed to himself as he finished his second game of pool, sinking the black ball with a flick of his wrist. He hoped that things didn't escalate into a bar-fight. He didn't know how he would explain that to Coulson.

Thankfully, they left the bar before anything bad happened. Clint followed them discretely, leaving a bit of distance between them so it wouldn't be obvious what he was doing. He watched as they both staggered along, holding onto each other and singing and dancing their way drunkenly down the street. Clint had a brief moment of panic when they stopped near the 7-Eleven. He hoped that they weren't going to try anything stupid; he'd seen people who were generally more sensible than he was sober do dumb things when drunk.

Thankfully, they'd simply stopped to have a dance on the sidewalk. It was very comical. Clint chortled to himself as he watched, wishing that he was close enough to film what was happening. This was almost as priceless as the photograph he had snapped of Coulson and his pained expression earlier.

Clint watched as an evening of heavy drinking suddenly caught up with Selvig. He tried to high-five Donald and missed by a mile, ending up passed out cold on the ground. That didn't seem to bother his companion, who cheerfully picked Selvig up and slung him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, before heading off again.

Clint followed him, wondering where they were going. He didn't have to wonder for long. 'Donald' led him straight to the scientist-chicks trailer (sorry, Jane Foster's trailer, he hadn't had much to do while Coulson had been interrogating the guy), and knocked on the door. It was a few moments before the door opened, and he was admitted. Clint made a mental note of the time for the report that he would have to write later, and sighed to himself. What was he supposed to do now?

Thankfully for Clint, they didn't stay in there for long. Within five minutes, Donald and Foster came out and headed up to the roof of the workshop. Clint climbed onto the roof of the building on the other side of the street and hid in the shadows while he observed them. They didn't seem to be doing anything of interest, just talking. Clint got the gist of what they were saying thanks to his lip-reading skills, but as far as he could tell nothing they said was of interest to him. It looked like it was going to be a long night.

Clint watched the pair for a while longer. He started when Donald pulled out the notebook that Delancey had forcibly taken from Foster this morning. When had he had time to grab that? Man, that guy was good. Coulson would probably shit bricks when he found that gone, but Clint wasn't about to tell him what had happened to it. Especially not when he had a stolen iPod hidden in his own jacket pocket. An iPod that he intended to return to its rightful owner without official approval. The only problem was he didn't know which of the science-trio it belonged to.

He didn't think that it was Selvig's. The iPod was purple with pink ear buds. It didn't strike Clint as being the kind of thing that Selvig would go for. Seeing that the couple over on the other roof weren't doing anything noteworthy right now, Clint pulled the iPod from his pocket and examined it. He hoped that he might find a clue as to which girl it belonged to.

Finding nothing on the outside, he turned it on.

As the screen lit up, big letters caught Clint's eye.

PROPERTY OF DARCY LEWIS. HANDS OFF MY IPOD OR ELSE I WILL TASE YOU.

After seeing that, Clint wasn't surprised to find that the small device was password protected. Still, he had a name now.

He knew the scientist was called Jane Foster, which meant that the other girl must be Darcy Lewis. Therefore, it must be her iPod. Clint really hoped that Coulson would send someone to relieve him soon, so that he could go and find this Darcy Lewis and return her property. He'd already been tailing Selvig and co. for almost six hours, with regular, if vague, updates to Coulson. Surely they'd send someone to take over soon.

It was almost six and a half hours since he'd left base before Clint's comm crackled to life.

"Barton, you still there?"

"Yes, Overwatch. Nothing has changed since my last check-in. Are you sending someone to relieve me soon?"

There was a rather long pause that caused Clint to hold his breath. He suddenly dreaded the answer. He had been border-line insubordinate to Coulson earlier on after all. It was quite possible that his handler would make him pull an all-nighter as punishment. It had happened before.

"Yes."

The tension in Clint's shoulders immediately eased.

"Great. How long until they arrive?"

"Probably about half-an-hour. Once they're there, you can come back to camp. I need to fill you in on what has happened since you left."

Clint sighed.

"Great. Can't wait. Just one question. When do I get to sleep?"

"When you come back to camp, after debriefing, you can have a few hours of shut-eye. Also, have you happened to see the black notebook that was lying on the table just outside? We seem to have lost it, and it had some things in it that we needed to take copies of. Selvig didn't take it or anything?"

"No, he didn't take it. At least, I didn't see him with it."

Clint could answer that question very truthfully. Selvig hadn't taken it, it had been Donald. Not that Clint planned on volunteering that information. He just hoped that Coulson didn't ask any more difficult questions. He'd always found it hard to lie outright to Coulson. Every time he did, his handler somehow made him feel like Clint had let him down by lying to him. Whether Coulson was aware it was a lie or not didn't matter. The feeling was still there.

Coulson sighed. To Clint's relief, he didn't ask any more awkward questions.

"It must be here somewhere then; we'll find it. Anyway, Jackson and Kelly will be there in half-an-hour or so. See you when you get back. Coulson out."

"Rodger that. Hawkeye out."

Clint put the iPod back in his pocket, and went back to observing the couple over on the roof. Once the other agents arrived, Clint would go and find Darcy Lewis. It shouldn't be that hard to locate her. It was only a small town after all.


Kudos to anyone who spotted the Loki cameo. For those who didn't, leave me a review and I'll tell you where it is in PM. *not so subtle bribery* Or just leave me a review because you enjoyed the story! That works as well. Either way, reviews make Plot Bunnies happy, and when they are happy, we get more stories from them!

Part 2 will be up within the next few days. Lots of reviews, and it will be up even sooner. *hint, hint*