Hello Loves, this is my first Avengers story and will most likely be around 3-4 chapters long. Hope yo like!

Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel. I do own Odessa and Nino

The Team sank into their chairs, well, fell into their chairs now that they didn't need to save the world anymore. Tony was at the counter ordering whatever type of food they served here. Honestly, no one knew or cared what kind it was, they were just happy to sit down. Although Clint was pretty sure that now that he was sitting, standing wasn't going to be happening for a very long time. Natasha gracefully took her seat next to her longtime partner and Clint slowly lifted a leg up onto her seat, elevating his ankle that he probably sprained. He felt the others take their seats around the table, everyone dropping into the plastic chairs half praying that they wouldn't break. The dust in the air had almost settled, but the smell of gunpowder was heavy in the air, but that was probably because the person who's chair he had half commandeered had been shooting for the past ….. however long the battle lasted. Sweat. He also smelled sweat and a number of different body odors. He ran his gaze over Nat, cataloging her injuries. Nothing to write home about, she would be sore, a few shallow cuts and bruises, but over all, everything was good.

He sent a quick glance over everyone else. Thor seemed fine. Steve was resting his head on his fist, but wasn't doubled over in pain, he was fine. Bruce was slightly behind Clint, but was looking around with his hands resting in his lap: fine. Tony was at the counter still, hands moving as fast as his mouth: fine. Clint looked down at his hands. He sighed and wiggled his fingers, beginning his own inventory. Fingers: there, arms: going to be sore for a day or two, shoulders: same as arms, torso: a few scrapes and bruise were going to be forming over the next couple hours, legs/feet: more bruises and cuts from glass shards, possible sprained ankle from rolling through that stupid window. Over all, sore, but intact and not dead. He slowly brought his head up from looking down at his foot and realized that there was a tray of food front of him. He should probably be worried that he didn't notice it get, most likely, drop in front of him, but he was really to tired to care.

He caught a look from Natasha out of the corner of his eye. He looks over and read the concern and evaluation in her gaze. He sighed again. She had been doing that for the past 8 months.


Clint walked off the plane, past Natasha. She frowned as she followed him, not use to being ignored by her partner, a partner who had been on a solo mission for the past 6 months. Halfway down the runway she grabbed his arm. The archer turned slowly, hesitating before meeting her eyes, knowing she was one of the very few people who could read him. Her eyes flew over his face, searched his eyes. Confusion, pain, completion, guilt, exhaustion, hardness and a vacancy. Her eyes widened half a fraction when she realized, he felt lost. Never in the 7 years they had worked together had she ever seen him lost. Her grip tightened on his arm but he didn't offer her a smirk. He simply looked at her, hoping she had the answers. Without a word, Clint walk the remainder of the way to the building and left for his debriefing.

Tasha waiting on one of the uncomfortable chairs in the hallway for her partner. She stood when the door opened and he stepped out. She followed him silently to his room and sat on his bed while he showered. She analyzed him as he unpacked his duffel simply because of muscle memory. He sat next to her, shirt clinging to his still wet back as he dropped his head in his hands. She knew she was the only one he would do this with, so she simply sat next to him, hoping he would share what was on his mind.

"Civilian?" Her voice questioned the silent man. She saw him nod before he brought his hand to the back of his neck, causing his head to fall closer to his knees. She placed her hand between his shoulder blades. He pushed his left hand farther down his back and lace the tips of their fingers together.


Clint slowly pulled the tray of food until it dropped onto his lap and he surveyed what Tony had bought. It looked like a greek burrito. He picked at the meat and pushed the burrito apart with his finger. He knew it wasn't a burrito, but he honestly couldn't remember what Tony had called this stuff. Slowly, painfully he brought a hunk of the meat to his mouth and half heartedly chewed. Thankfully it tasted good. Really good. What was this again, new he really needed to know. He turned to look at the counter to read the menu, but a pull against the bruised torso made him stop and wince. Later, he would figure out what this was later.

He listened to the team, all quiet breathing. Bruce and Thor were the only ones actually eating, everyone else was simply trying to stay awake. Those that work at the restaurant were all moving around, cleaning, picking up chairs, stuff like that. He heard them moving around and speaking greek to each other. If he actually focused he could figure out what they were saying.

"Michael?" A new voice called across the room. Clint froze all movement and Natasha felt him stiffen next to her. The voice called again and Clint slowly lifted his head. Coming out of the kitchen was a young woman with dark hair piled up on her head. Clint's leg dropped off the Natasha's chair and he stood. Most the of the woman was hidden behind the counter, but when he stood Clint saw the face of the tiny woman. He began to make his way toward the kitchen.

"Dessa?" The woman walked closer to the high counter, a tearful smile began to form on her caramel face.

"Michael."

Clint froze, his eyes roamed over her face, soaking in her features. The others watched as their Archer lost the calm, cool and collected air that he always carried into a man who seemed lost. She in turn was also drinking in his face, like one who has just found a love one.

"What are you doing here?" Not one of his muscles moved. He watched as she wiped a tear with her palm.

"My Uncle died. I was free. My brother sent for me to come to America and live with him." She smiled a small smile while whipping tears off her chin. "I look for you when I come, but I not find your work and no one know you." As the team watched her, they all noticed a sadness in her eyes and the tear were not all happy ones. "I know you are not who you say you are, that you're name is not Michael. I also think you have something to do with my Uncle dying."


Clint snuck down the hallway, ignoring paintings on the walls and the silver in the alcoves. He was in a bad mood and wanted to get this job over with. He hated close range jobs. Why he was the one that got assigned this mission was beyond him. He had planned it just right, the target was passed out drunk on the bed. He silently appeared next to the king sized bad and pushes a needle into the man's arm. After emptying the clear, untraceable poison into the target, he removed the needle. The man never even flinched.

The assign left the room without any evidence that he was ever there. Back down the hallway and out a side window. He strolled down the street, his mind too full to enjoy the warm Greece air or a job well done. At the top of a small hill he glanced back at the city for only a moment before climbing into the jet that would take him back to the States.


Natasha recognized the look in her partner's eyes as the one he had when he got off the plane, back when this whole thing started. His body had gone even more ridged after the woman's accusation. Clint wanted to tell her he was sorry, that it was his job, his orders. He tried to convey these things to her with his eyes, his lips not being able to move from their tight frown.

"Thank you."

Her soft words shocked him. He had never been thanked for killing someone, especially not a family member. He searched her face, but it only held gratefulness. If anyone saw the tear that escaped from Clint's eye, they would never mention it.

"Why." His whisper was only heard by the woman before him, the woman who held all of his attention. Loki could return and go on a killing spree in the restaurant around him and his eyes would never waver from the brown ones before him.

"His death freed me. You knew I was practically a prisoner. I never thought I would see you again. I did not think I would be able to thank you and now you have saved me again." She smiled at him again. Clint couldn't wrap his head around what she was saying. If she knew I help cause this, she wouldn't be saying this. His thoughts tried to find blame and justify what he believed of himself. He didn't acknowledge the man that entered the restaurant from the kitchen until the woman's attention was taken from him.

"Odessa, who is this?" The man was clearly related to the woman who had Clint's attentions. "Is this the man?" Anger started to brew behind his dark eyes as he moved toward Odessa.

"Please, Brother, go back into the kitchen." She turned away from Clint and toward her brother, her hands out toward him.

"Is this him?" He insisted again, stepping up to his sister who placed her hands on his chest and pushed him lightly back to the door where he had entered.

"Do not make a scene, he has allowed me to come to America to you. We should be grateful, not angry." She pushed again, but his frame towered over her.

"Grateful? Grateful!" He brushed past the tiny woman and up to the man who was watching their exchange. "I should beat you until you can no longer breath." The threat was laced with anger. Across the room chairs slid back as members of the team stood at the threat against one of their own.

"Nino, stop." Odessa called from her position behind the counter.

"I have every right. You have taken her future away." He took a step closer to the archer who had turned his attention the man before him and sized him up. He had muscle, but Clint estimated that it would take less then two minutes to take him down if he tried anything.

"Anthony." Odessa's voice rang out with authority in the small room. Everyone stopped and looked at her, including the two men. "He has taken nothing away from me, only given."

Anthony scoffed and marched toward his sister, anger rolled off him in waves.

"Oh yes, he has given you much. Shall we show him just how much he has given you?" He grabbed her arm and roughly pulled her to the end of the counter. Clint and half the team began to rush to the woman's aid.

"Anthony if you do not unhand you will no long be able to have children." Her voice was low and deadly. her brother released his grip immediately and took a step back. A flash of horror crossed his face as he looked at the red mark on her tan arm. His eyes looked down to meet his sisters and her gaze softened, she placed a hand on his arm.

"Dessa?" Clint's voice carried over the counter and she closed her eyes at the sound. Anthony squeezed her shoulder and took a step back. Odessa took a deep breath and walked out from behind the counter. Clint sucked in a breath and felt his knees grew weak. In the middle of her light frame was a very round baby belly. She stood uncertain in the room. Clint could not tear his eyes from her center. He took step and then another until her was right in front of Odessa, then his fell to his knees.

"Is it?" He looked up at her, half hope half fear. She nodded.

"I do not want anything. I am happy. I am excited and grateful for this gift. You have given me so much, I don't not need more." Her conference grew with her every word until she was standing tall, without a fear. He heard her words but could not understand them. He reached his hand up, pausing just before he touched her stomach, but she placed her hand over his and pressed it down over their child. Blood rushed from his face and slight panic set in.

"I don't regret anything." Her words somehow made it through the sound of his heartbeat in his ears and the panic began to ease.

Natasha watched her partner as the woman unknowingly brought him down from impending panic the only she was privy to being able to see. She watched his actions, understanding flooding her body, followed by a feeling of betrayal. Why did he not tell her about this woman?

Odessa threaded a hand through his short dark blond hair. Clint forced his eyes up to hers and saw the peace she had filled in her brown eyes.

"Go, eat. Be with your friends." She nudged him with her hand, slipping the other our of his hair. Odessa took a step back so Clint could stand. She was not expecting, however, the swiftness in which he did so.

"I'm not leaving you again." A finality in his voice made her jam her hands on her hips in reaction. Her eyes matched his and a flash, a visible spark flew between them.

"I do not need you or any man." The defiance and confidence in her voice caused Natasha to smirk and Bruce (who was still sitting) to give a small smile.

"I know." Clint's fists opened and then closed again, a motion that Natasha knew as a sign of uncertainty. "Maybe I need you." His plea was soft, but she didn't miss the smallest hint of desperation hidden in the depth of his rough tone. All opposition left the Greek woman's posture as she reached a hand up to cup his cheek.

"Go, eat. You need your strength." She smiled up at him and ran a thumb over his cheek bone. "After all, you have just come from a hard days work." She watched the debate in his eyes, the flipping between sitting and eating or standing and pulling her into his arms. "Go." she pushed against his chest as she took a step toward him guiding him backwards. He relented a step of space to her, but as she started to turn away he grabbed her hand. Clint took a second step back, pulling her with him. Another step, then another. Step after step she followed him until they reached the table and he sat down in his chair. His eyes trained on the woman standing beside him before guiding her down to sit on his lap.

The team watched as their Archer wrapped his arms around the woman who held his complete attention, who in returned unwrapped an arm and placed his shawarma wrap in his hand. Natasha watched as the other woman raised an eyebrow at her partner and raised a matching brow when the man responded to her silent command. The other members of the team slowly began to take the seats and resume eating, although Bruce was quietly counting down to the moment when Tony would make an inappropriate comment to the newest addition at the table. Natasha sat and tried to catch Clint's attention, but his eyes never wavered from the woman on his lap.