So I should've finished the next chapter of that Steve/Tony fic but I decided to write the sequel to Routinely Rejecting Happiness instead. I will write the last chapter of the Steve/Tony next, I promise. It's like, half way done. Okay, without further ado, enjoy the story, I don't own Marvel stuff, and reviews are loved.

He was so good to me, so perfect. No one knew me like he did. And I knew him better than anyone else. We were perfect. Perfect. And he's gone. I am alone.

-.-

"Hostage situation gone wrong. That's what they're calling it? When do hostage situations go right?" Peter picked up another of the papers, reading it over. "What's he calling himself?"

"We don't know," Clint said. The picture was blurry as the man escaped out the back door of the restaurant, charging through a line of policemen like they hadn't all been shooting at him. It was disturbing to look at. He was dressed in all black, head to toe, even the dark mask he wore. No mouth or nose hole, just eyeholes.

"So some guy just takes a crap ton of hostages, kills them, runs out into the sewers?" Peter shook his head, leaning back. "What the hell."

"We should get Tony on this," Natasha said from the other side of Clint. "Fury thinks we can track the guy and take him down. I'm not so sure."

Clint and Peter exchanged a glance of disbelief and then looked back at Natasha. She stared both of them down.

"I'm just being honest. The guy withstood bullets," she said, pointing at another picture. The man's clothing was torn by the bullets, but there wasn't a single wound that they could see. "I mean, Steve can take a bullet, but it usually leaves a mark. This guy doesn't have a scratch on him."

"So why would Fury just send us?" Peter asked.

"Because we're the only ones left," Clint said, leaning back on the couch and propping his feet up. "Everyone else is off in California fighting that big-ass alien and it's minions."

Apparently Loki had let loose one of Asgard's most dangerous creatures that had the ability to spawn smaller versions of it self left and right. Fury was going to send them all in, but then this guy had appeared and well...here they were.

"I can go search the sewers," Peter said. "I've done it before. Used my webs to track movements. I can start by going down whichever manhole he went through."

"Way too dangerous," Clint said.

Nat elbowed him in the side. "Peter will know when the guy moves, and he's got spidey senses. He'll be fine, Clint, really. Fury put me at the head of this mission and I say it's a great place to start."

"I'm going with him," Clint said firmly.

"I can take care of myself you know," Peter said.

"You only got put back on active duty a week ago," Clint said, shooting him a look. "I'm coming with you and that's final."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Okay, Bird-Boy can join Spider-Man down in the sewers. Under no circumstances are you allowed to engage. I'll give you guys the location to enter, and I'll be a block away if you need me. Good?"

"Good," they both agreed.

"Suit up, Spider-Man," Clint said, getting to his feet.

"You too Bird-Boy. Oh hey, does this make you my sidekick?"

"Absolutely not."

-.-

He is not a hawk but a crow. Only crows are drawn to the things that shine.

-.-

"This is weird," Clint said, perching lightly on the web Peter had spun. The sewer stunk, horribly, but Clint had been in worse conditions so it wasn't too bad. "You use this technique often or something?"

"I did, when I fought the Lizard," Peter said with a shrug. He still wore his mask, even though his identity was plastered all over the papers. It was probably for comfort more than anything, and if Clint was to guess, it was a way to feel like he had armor on even though bullets could go right through it.

Peter reached down and idly plucked one of the webs. Clint couldn't feel much but from the way Peter crouched, crawling closer, he assumed the other hero could feel everything along the line. "It gets boring after awhile, but we're in this until he makes a move."

"He might not even come back this way," Clint said, flopping back on the main part of the web.

Peter made a grunt of disapproval as the webbing rocked back and forth. "Maybe not but how else are we supposed to search for him?"

"Wait until he strikes again, then follow him," Clint said.

Peter shook his head. "He'll just kill more people when he strikes again. It's best if we try and snare him before that happens. Besides, this whole thing doesn't sit well with me." He leaned back, his movements barely causing a stir in the web as he laid down beside Clint, staring up at the underbelly of the street.

"You too, huh?" Clint mused. His fingers trailed over the nearly invisible seam of the mask and the rest of the suit. "I think he wants something, trying to send a message. Who holds hostages for two hours just to kill them all? Without even making any demands."

"Exactly. There's something we're missing," Peter said.

"And we won't know what it is until we know who we're dealing with. If it weren't for the damn mask," Clint said. "Which kind of debunks the other theory. Why wear a mask if you're trying to send a message?"

Peter groaned, sitting back up. "This is just a bunch of suck, you know that? Everyone else gets to go fight some awesome alien and we're stuck in a sewer. There is no fun in this at all."

Clint crooked an eyebrow at him. "Since when was this supposed to be fun?"

"Since Matt added that to my contract," Peter said. "I didn't know it was there until Fury pulled me aside last week and mentioned it. Apparently one of the clauses says I have to be having fun or the contract is dissolved."

Clint stared at him, trying to tell if the younger was joking. "Are you serious?"

"Quite. Fury wants me to sign a new contract that doesn't include that. Of course that means I'm going to have to compare both contracts side by side which is going to take hours," Peter said. His mask crinkled a bit to show he was smiling. "But until then, if I'm not having fun I can up and leave."

"But would you?" Clint asked, genuinely curious. "I mean, Matt obviously put that in there to give you an out if you needed it."

Peter shook his head. "Nah, I think Matt was just messing with them. Otherwise he would've mentioned that part to me."

Clint laughed, the movement shaking the web again and earning him what he assumed was a glare from the web-slinger. "Knew he couldn't be that straight laced."

Peter laughed as well, then paused, tilting his head. Clint watched as he crawled to the right and tilted his head to the side, plucking at the web. "We have movement. Someone ran into this. They keep hitting it, can't figure out why it isn't breaking."

Clint rolled off the webbing and onto the slick cement below, drawing an arrow and nocking it as he proceeded down the direction Peter indicated. Peter crawled delicately along the webbing, jolting in surprise when it was hit again. He paused suddenly.

"Clint, stop, he just broke it," Peter said. "He's following it to us now."

"We have to see his face," Clint said. "We can't pass this up."

"Nat said not to engage," Peter argued, even as he reached into his ever-present messenger back and pulled out a camera, tossing it at Clint. "I'll rip the mask off, you get a picture."

"Then we run?"

"Then we run," Peter agreed.

Peter jumped off the webbing, plastering himself to the ceiling. By now they could hear the man sloshing through the water, and adrenaline began to run hot through Clint's veins. It was too dark to see the man, nothing but a huddled shadow moving closer. Peter crawled closer, then dropped on the man's shoulders.

The man didn't make a single noise, grabbing Peter's arm and hurling him over his shoulder. Peter shot a web out, sticking it to the mask and then yanking hard as he landed.

"Hawkeye, now!" he shouted.

Clint rose the camera up and clicked a shot, the flash lighting up the dark cavern for barely a second before they were both running, Peter shooting blobs of webbing behind them.

"Grab on," Peter grunted as the both vaulted up onto the web nest they had created earlier.

Clint obeyed without question, wrapping himself around the younger as he shot a web up and then retracted it, pulling them both up and out of the man's range as he caught up to them. Clint didn't bother looking back, instead curling his legs up to kick the manhole cover up and fly up through it, offering a hand to Peter and pulling him up. Once free, they kicked it shut.

They exchanged a quick look and braced themselves on either side of the manhole, Clint drawing his arrow again and aiming, waiting for the man to charge through. Peter was aiming a webshooter at him, all the while chattering into the comm and informing Natasha of what had happened.

The street they were on was already closed for investigative purposes so she appeared in seconds, gun already drawn.

"I told you two not to engage," she hissed.

"Yeah well I didn't want to go home without any information, alright?" Clint grit out. "Peter, use your web to fling the cover back, Nat and I are ready."

Peter nodded and did as ordered. Nat flashed a light down into the darkness, then shook her head. "Nothing, but your web is completely torn up. I thought people couldn't rip that apart."

"They can't," Peter said. "Which is why this is a bit on the frustrating side."

"You got a picture though, right?" she asked, kicking the manhole cover back on. "We can run that through some scans."

Clint nodded his agreement, pulling the camera back up; a top of the line journalist camera that of course, Peter would have. He flicked to the last image, mouth going dry.

"Nat."

She stepped closer, taking the camera from him. "Oh. This..."

"What, what is it?" Peter asked, glancing between them. He moved closer and looked at the image. "Yeah, doesn't look familiar to me. Is this some super secret spy thing or what?"

"He was supposed to be dead," Clint said. "Coulson was his handler, then he went MIA, was declared dead ten years ago. Then Coulson took on me, followed by Nat."

"And now he's back from the dead," Natasha murmured, clicking the image off. "We need to tell Fury."

"Yeah. I'm...going to go back to the tower," Clint said.

"No, you aren't, Fury needs to brief us," Natasha said firmly.

"He can wait ten minutes," Clint argued, slinging his bow over his shoulder as he took a step back. "You two go on ahead, I'll follow after you."

Peter tilted his head to the side, but Natasha just nodded. With a quick, jerking wave, he set off for the tower, his stomach feeling a bit like lead.

-.-

Peter set a plate in front of Clint, and though the archer wasn't too keen on eating, the smell of Aunt May's cooking made his stomach rumble. He gave Peter a half smile and began to eat the mashed potatoes, occasionally cutting off a slice of the chicken to dip it in the gravy.

"So want to tell me why you're so upset?" Peter asked, leaning across the island in Tony's kitchen.

Clint shifted on the barstool, sighing as he set his fork down. "It's...weird to see a man you've heard so much about come back from the dead."

"Hear about him from Coulson?" Peter asked, picking up Clint's fork and stealing a bite.

"Yeah," Clint said. "It was a rough mission. Him and two other agents. Agent Rourke and Agent Levine. Rourke is the guy we're dealing with now. Took place up by the Canadian boarder somewhere, Coulson never really said where. It was supposed to be a simple mission, get in, kill the targets, move out. But there was something there, dragged Rourke away half dead, with Levine near death and Coulson the only one able to walk."

He stopped for a moment, wiping his eyes as he remembered Coulson's expression when he told the story, wishing he had asked more questions. "Don't know what it was that took Rourke. Levine said it was a man, but they were fighting in the middle of the woods and Coulson says he saw something else, swore it was something else but he wasn't sure."

Peter frowned, shoving the fork back into Clint's hand as a silent command to eat. "You didn't tell Fury any of this."

"Fury already knows, it's on Coulson's file. He has Rourke's file. They looked for him but they couldn't find him," Clint said. "I just don't know what to think about all this."

"There's something you aren't saying," Peter said, turning to the fridge and pulling out one of the juice boxes he had in there.

Clint thought it was an interesting quirk, a grown man drinking kid-sized juice boxes, and Peter swore it was an old habit from when he was still in high school. "Maybe. I don't want to talk about it, and it isn't important."

"Everything is important," Peter said simply. "We need to figure out the guy's motivation. If you know something about him that isn't on file...that might help."

Clint breathed out a loud breath then, pushing the plate away. "He and Coulson were lovers. It wasn't on record because stuff like that never goes on record because it's technically breaking the rules."

Peter's raised his eyebrows. "Oh. Does Nat know?"

"Do I know what?" Natasha asked, stepping into the room with her arms folded across her chest.

"Oh come on, Nat, don't look at me like that. You know I can't help but tell you things when you give me that look," Clint said.

"That's the point. What don't I know, Clint?"

"Rourke and Coulson used to be lovers," Clint said, glancing away from her. "He was torn up about losing Rourke, even years later, that's the only reason I knew."

"And you didn't think this was important tell Fury why?" Natasha asked, a slim red eyebrow rising.

"How is it important at all?" Clint asked, voice raising in volume a bit. "It was Coulson's business, and it's entirely unconnected."

"It might not be," Peter said. "Too soon to tell."

"So what's our next step?" Clint asked, carrying the plate to the sink only to have it taken from his hands by Peter. He raised an eyebrow as Peter began to eat what he had left.

"Wait for him to strike and try and figure out what he wants," Nat said. "There's not much more we can do."

"We can go after him again," Clint said.

"Yeah, you honestly think he'll fall for Peter's trick again?" Natasha asked.

"Probably not, but we could just check the sewers for him," Clint said with a shrug.

"He broke Peter's webs, obviously he's not someone to take lightly," Nat said. "Our best bet is waiting for him to make a move and then take him out."

Peter turned on the sink and began to wash their dishes. "More people will die, but I have to agree with her on this one. We'll only get ourselves killed if we follow after him."

Clint rested his head on his arms, leaning on the island. "I hate waiting."

"You aren't the only one," Nat said.

-.-

I hope you have missed me. I have not missed you, but we will be seeing a lot of each other. But not until I do to you what you have done to me.

-.-

Clint dropped onto the roof of the building, Peter beside him. Natasha flew the jet back to land on the roof beside them. She would be with them shortly, working from the ground up.

Rourke had once more taken a host of hostages and barricaded himself up on the top floor, saying he wouldn't shoot them all if they listened to his terms. They were still waiting to hear just what his terms were.

"I don't know what he's playing at, but it's a bit frustrating," Clint said. "Two days ago he didn't give a damn about asking for anything and now he is?"

"I just don't like anything about this situation. Nothing is adding up," Peter said, shifting over to the edge of the roof and letting down a thin line of web, securing it to the top. He did the same thing a few feet away.

Clint moved over to stand beside him, checking the tension of the web. "You sure this will hold me?"

"You'll be fine," Peter said. "I wouldn't put you on it a billion feet up in the air if I thought there was a chance you'd turn into a Hawk-Omelet by falling."

Clint snorted and swung his leg over to straddle the edge of the roof.

"Clint! He's asking for you," Natasha said, her voice breathless in his ear. "He says he'll release the hostages if you go into the room he's in."

Peter gave a low growl of anger. "No. You can't answer the demands of a terrorist. He threw me a dozen feet and actually did damage. You can't."

"Nat, what do you want me to do?" Clint asked, ignoring Peter's spluttering behind him.

"Do it. See what he wants, then get out. Peter, can you get into the ceiling?"

"Of course I can, I'm Spider-Man!"

Clint snorted, grabbed the web and eased himself down to the first window. He braced his feet on the glass, pushed off and swung back, breaking through the window and rolling through, coming up with his arrow nocked. The office room was empty, and he eased himself back up onto his feet. "Okay, I'm in."

Peter appeared beside him. "Give me a lift?"

Clint tapped his shoulders and Peter vaulted up onto them, pushing the ceiling tile up and pulling himself up. He peeked over the edge, pulling his mask up. "Play it safe, alright?"

"I will. Watch my back?"

"Always."

"Good man," Clint said.

Peter gave a small wave and put the tile back in place. Clint kicked the next door open, checking his corners before continuing onward.

"What room is he in Nat?"

"He moved to the back side of the building, huge conference building with glass doors. Should be able to see him."

Clint made a noise to indicate he heard and rounded the next corridor, keeping his arrow nocked as he continued walking towards the room. The people he was holding hostage were gathered in a corner with Rourke standing in front of them, his back to Clint.

He turned then, still with the ski-mask, devoid of any holes but those for the eyes. Clint proceeded towards the door, nudging it open with his foot.

"Good to see you, Agent Barton," Rourke said without turning around. "Perhaps you should lower the bow, hm? We wouldn't want an accident to happen, would we?"

"Let the people go, Rourke, and we can talk, alright?"

"Oh, you were able to get a good picture then?" He moved out of the way and the people reacted instantly, bolting for the door. Rourke let them go, much to Clint's surprise. He turned to face Clint, arms folded across his chest. "So you know who I am?"

"You're supposed to be dead," Clint said, bringing his bow up once more.

"Shame on you," Rourke said. "I said to keep the bow down."

Before Clint could react, the man was on the meeting table and punching up into the ceiling tile. He heard Peter scramble back and a moment later, shoot webbing down to cover the man's eyes. Rourke barely reacted, ripping the webbing away before knocking aside another tile with a large fist.

"The citizens are free, Clint. What's the situation?" Natasha asked.

Clint didn't say a word, instead firing an arrow without hesitation. It engaged, clipping into the man's fabric as the flashing timer began to blink. Another tile was knocked away and Clint bolted out of the room, shouting for Peter to run as he cleared the room, racing down the hallway. Moments later, the glass walls shattered, the heat of the explosion reaching all the way down the hall.

Panting, he eased his way back towards the room. Glass covered the floor, and Peter was crouched over the edge of the broken window leading to the outdoors. Clint joined him, looking over to see Rourke shouldering his way through several lines of policemen just like before the back of his shirt destroyed but the skin beneath it unmarked. Nat was on his heels, keeping pace easily.

"Hang on Bird-Boy," Peter said. "We're going for a swing."

Clint shouldered his bow and wrapped himself around Peter's back, taking a deep breath before Peter launched himself off the building, slinging a web to the nearest building and swinging after Natasha and Rourke.

"Nat, what are you doing?" he demanded over the rush over air in his ears. "I put an explosive arrow on the guy's back and he didn't even react."

"Getting a tracker on him," Natasha said between breaths.

"Dropping now, get ready," Peter warned.

As they swung low, Peter cut off the web and they dropped onto the cement, both of them springing away from each other and rolling across the pavement. They came up just ahead of Rourke, and both moved simultaneously, each snagging one of the man's arms and slowing his momentum just enough for Natasha to lunge, launching onto his back and driving her fist into his neck. Rourke jolted at the electricity, and Clint was thankful he and Peter had released him just before she had punched down.

But then Rourke was shoving them aside, hard enough to cause the pavement beneath them to crumble. Natasha was chattering into the comm, no doubt telling Fury they had successfully tagged the man. Peter got back to his feet and offered a hand to help Clint up. They looked down the street but Rourke was long gone.

"Enhancements. It's gotta be enhancements of some kind," Clint said.

"Yeah, and he said some pretty disturbing stuff as he leapt out the window too," Peter said, moving his mask up enough so his mouth was free. "Said he was going to do to you what you did to him."

-.-

You must fly high before I clip your wings. I want you to feel regret as you fall.