Most of these beginning chapters are going to be a bit on the short side for my usual writing. I think after this chapter though, things are going to start getting a bit longer as the plot thickens and twists. Most of this is planned out, but I'm used to my plans going horribly wrong and churning out a different, though better, result.

Higher and higher.

-.-

"You never did tell me how many people died, on the helicarrier," Clint said, firing an arrow across the field, eyes narrowing when it took the dummy's head off and pinned it to the wall.

"That's because none of it was your fault," Natasha said from somewhere behind him, her voice steady despite the paces she was putting herself through. "And you know that."

Clint jogged to the other end of the field and took his arrow out of the wall, tossing the head on the ground before dragging another dummy from the side into place. "No one would've been able to make the shot I did to blow up the engine. How is it not my fault?"

"We were dealing with Loki," Natasha said, kicking off the chest of one dummy and using the leverage to grab the arm of another and throw it over her shoulder. She flicked a few strands of her out of her face. "He would've found a way to have that engine get blown up either way."

Clint didn't respond to that, instead going back to shooting as he tried to analyze the information they had gathered over the last few days. Rourke said he was going to get revenge on him for something, probably involving Coulson. He hadn't really known Rourke before, meeting him only once before he had supposedly died. He had been a powerful agent, skilled in various sects of karate, and impeccable aim with a gun. Happy and good natured.

"Nat, what do we know about the area he disappeared?" Clint asked.

"Not much, at least nothing on file," Natasha said.

"I have a few ideas," a new voice said.

Clint reacted instantly, aiming his arrow at where the voice was coming from, only to freeze as he looked at Deadpool, sitting on one of the swinging overhead lights. The masked merc gave a tiny wave and jumped down.

"How did you get in here? This is a SHIELD training facility," Natasha said, drawing her gun and pointing it at him.

"Aw, hunny, I'm Deadpool. You really think something like that's going to keep me out?"

"Wade, what do you want?" Clint asked, lowering his weapon. "It's okay Nat. He's mostly sane, and I don't think he's here to kill us."

Deadpool snickered. "You'd be dead already if I was."

"That a challenge?" Natasha asked, stepping closer.

"Oh I'd love to go a few rounds with you baby, but I'm afraid my schedules a bit tight right now. Gimme your number and I'll get back to you," Deadpool said, turning away from Clint.

"Wade, stop harassing my co-workers. What do you want?"

"Oh right," Deadpool said, turning back to face him. "This Rourke guy, I used to work with him. Recognized him when I passed by him in the sewers. We had a chat."

"Wait, you talked to the guy?" Clint asked.

"What were you doing in the sewers?" Natasha asked, shoving her gun away and folding her arms over her chest.

"I was chasing a mark, and after I got him I ran into Rourke on my way back. He recognized me first, then took off the mask," Wade said. "We knew each other."

"Why didn't you kill him?" Natasha asked.

"Because I don't like going after things for free, and I didn't feel like getting my ass handed to me," Wade said with a shrug. He tilted his head to the side, glancing up at the ceiling. "Oh shut up, I can admit when I have faults and you know it. Just because you're conceited doesn't mean I have to be! Okay so I'm a little conceited, I'll give you that."

Natasha crooked an eyebrow at Clint, but the archer just shook his head.

"It's a thing," Clint said, waving his hand dismissively. "Don't...don't worry about it."

"I know when I can't take an enemy down," Wade said, looking between them. "I mean, I could've taken him out, but it wouldn't have been worth it. Take too long."

"Where did you meet him before?" Clint asked. He was aware of Wade's lack of loyalty, and while once upon a time Natasha could've identified with that, he knew better. She was probably the most loyal out of all of them.

"Weapon X. Sound familiar?" Wade looked between them. "No of course not. Government lackeys don't get to know all the secrets. It was developed by Department K, in Canada. Me and Rourke were part of the experiments. Makes us special."

"Special how?" Natasha asked. "The super soldier serum or something else?"

"Can you shut your girlfriend up? I don't have to tell you guys anything," Wade said, his voice growing impatient. "And yes, she is hot, but we don't have time for that, besides she obviously doesn't go for the guys that talk to themselves." He scratched his head, glancing away from them both. "Yeah, yeah, much more of this and it ain't even worth saying anything to them, huh?"

"Nat, just be quiet, please," Clint said. He had worked with Deadpool before. He was aware that he could go from helpful to nuisance to deadly in the span of a few minutes. It wouldn't help them if he got too bored to talk to them and decided the voices in his own head were more interesting. "Keep going."

"Well, the Weapon X program gave us a healing factor, and other fun things. We became a covert group; Me, Wolverine, Sluggo, Rourke, Kane and Slayback." Wade scratched his chin. "Or at least that's what I remember. Anyways, me and Rourke got kicked off when we got a little loopy and attacked our teammates. We ended up at Hospice for further experimentation."

Wade stopped then, and Clint was almost sure he was frowning beneath the mask.

"Hospice..." Clint prompted.

"Gross place, lots of stupid scientists, experimentation. Really fucked Rourke up you know? He ended up with near impenetrable skin and super strength. And a case of the crazies."

"Because you're a glowing picture of a sanity," Natasha muttered.

Clint winced as Wade turned to face her, hands twitching at his sides. "Yeah, I am, thank you for the kind words baby."

"I'm not anyone's baby," Natasha said, hand moving to her gun as Wade advanced on her.

"Wade! Focus," Clint ordered, glaring at Natasha and urging her to stand down.

She glared at them both but returned her arms to be folded across her chest. Wade turned back to Clint as if he had never been distracted, launching back into his story.

"Yes, we escaped from Hospice later. Went our separate ways. I just thought you should know he's not to be taken lightly. I've seen him take a grenade to the face and walk away from it," Deadpool said. "Oh and he talked a lot about a guy named Coulson. Said he was going to go back to him once he got out of Hospice."

"Well that explains a few things," Clint said. "That it?"

"Yeah, that's it. I just wanted to let my favorite Birdy know," Wade said, voice sounding significantly happier. "Can't have you getting killed before we work together some more."

Clint nodded in agreement. "I'm sure you can find your way out?"

"I got in, didn't I?" Wade asked then turned for the wall, running towards it and jumping from it to the swinging light fixtures over head. "Don't get yourself killed Barton. I think he's coming for you."

Before either of them could say anything, he scrambled up the light and into the darkness of the high ceiling. Clint shouldered his bow, not much in the mood for training any longer.

"You worked with him?" Natasha asked in disbelief.

"We ran into each other on a mission. He saved my life," Clint said. "Sometimes he shows up on my missions. I think he's taken a liking to me for some reason."

"Not someone I'd want following me around," Natasha said.

"He's harmless most the time," Clint said with a shrug. "And certainly gives us insight to some of Rourke's motivation."

"Oh?" Natasha asked.

"He blames me for Coulson's death. He said he was going to do to me what I did to him. I took away his lover, he'll take away mine," Clint said.

"You didn't kill Coulson," Natasha said.

"Didn't I though?" Clint asked, heading for the exit. "Coulson would be alive if I hadn't attacked the helicarrier. Everyone knows that Natasha, even you do."

"Clint-"

Clint let the door shut behind him. He'd have to get back to the tower and talk with Peter. This certainly wasn't heading in a direction he was comfortable with.

-.-

A nest is fragile. A strong wind and it all comes tumbling down.

-.-

Peter fired a quick test shot across the lab, testing the give of the web before cutting it off with the webshooter and slipping the shooter into the wrist cuff. Refilling the things took work, but it was a welcome distraction from everything they had gone through the last two days.

"Mr. Parker, sir, Agent Barton is requesting access to the lab."

"Thanks JARVIS. Uh, let him in, but don't tell Tony?"

"Mr. Stark will not be informed of Agent Barton's presence, but I would like to remind you that this is your lab now and Mr. Stark's ban list is not applied to it," Jarvis said, a moment before the doors slid open.

Peter spun in his chair to see Clint striding towards him, setting his bow down on the table and throwing his gym bag on the floor. He paused a few feet from Peter, lips struggling to crook up into a smile only to fail.

"Hey, hey, what is it?" Peter asked, getting to his feet and starting towards him. "Clint?"

"I..." Clint shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down. "He's going to come after you, Peter. It's...he wants payback you know?"

"Clint, you're not making much sense to be honest," Peter said, taking another step closer. "I mean, did you learn something else about him while you were at SHIELD?"

"Something like that," Clint said, his laugh bitter as he shook his head. "He...he probably blames me for Coulson's death. So he's going to take you away from me."

Peter frowned. "Hey, I'm not going anywhere Clint. Really. Right here." He grabbed one of Clint's hands, pressing it to his chest. "See, in the flesh?" He gave a nervous grin when Clint didn't look up at him. "Clint..." He ducked his head so he could press his forehead to Clint's, urging him to look up until their lips were nearly pressed together. "What's wrong?"

Clint closed his eyes, sighing against him. "He's right. I don't deserve you, or anyone."

"So what, you wanna hand me over to the crazy psychopath?" Peter asked, brushing his knuckles against Clint's jaw. "Come on, don't say stuff like that. I've messed up a lot of things too. Doesn't mean I don't deserve you." He smiled, brushing their noses together. "I'm still learning that it's okay to...be in love with you."

It was risky for him to use the word love. Neither of them used it often. They never really committed to each other either, and as far as he knew, Natasha still sometimes warmed his bed. He wasn't sure, he had never asked, but he wouldn't have been surprised.

Clint pulled away from him, running a hand through his hair. "Is it love? Really? Because you shouldn't. I'm liable to do something stupid."

"Really? Because you haven't done anything dumb in the time I've known you." Peter stepped closer, pulling Clint back towards him.

"Coulson's dead because of me," Clint said quietly, leaning into him.

Peter swallowed thickly, stroking Clint's back as the man all but collapsed against him. "You never told me how he died. You never told me much about him at all, other than you were...together."

"When the Avengers first got together," Clint said. "I wasn't with them. Loki...I was with Loki. I helped take out one of the engines of the helicarrier and Loki was able to escape. He killed Coulson." He buried his face against Peter's shoulder. "It was my fault."

"You worked with Loki?" Peter asked, not stopping the steady movement of his hands.

"I...yeah. Couldn't help it. He got inside my mind but I didn't...couldn't...resist," Clint said.

Peter wasn't sure what to say, and he hated it. Clint had known everything to say to him, but all he could do was hold the man and hope he didn't crumble into pieces before him. What did he say to a man who had been under mind control and forced to partake in the event that killed his lover? He wasn't sure there was anything to say.

"If you knew Coulson was going to die...would you have cared?" he asked softly. "Under whatever spell Loki put you under. Would you have cared?"

Clint's mouth opened against his shoulder, a strangled noise coming out before finally, "I don't know."

-.-

We start slow. Nothing but a feather.

-.-

Natasha took a deep breath as she continued to walk towards the tower. She had spent too long at the training facilities, working over in her mind everything Wade had told them. She had wanted to punch the crazy assassin for what he had said, opening up all Clint's insecurities the way he had.

She knew he wasn't to blame for Coulson's death, but no matter what she said, Clint never removed the guilt from his shoulders. She didn't know what it was like to have Loki in her head the way Clint did, and while she was used to being unmade, if one could get used to such a thing, she had a feeling it was quite different.

Whirling, she brought her leg up in a roundhouse kick as the man behind her lunged forward. She froze, precariously balanced as Rourke easily caught her leg, grinning down at her without his mask. His face was a mess of scars, but still ultimately recognizable. In the low lamplight, his grin was almost inhuman, grey eyes sliding over to look at the leg he had caught.

Breath catching, she tried to yank free, then pushed up with her other leg, using the momentum to catch him under his chin. It was like hitting a wall, and he didn't stumble at all, his grip tightening on her caught leg as she stumbled back onto her free leg.

"You fight well, but you are still just human," Rourke said.

Natasha didn't say a word, instead pushing off once more and curling into her captive leg, kicking the man once in his chest as she sunk her nails into the flesh of his hand. The skin gave a bit but she was unable to keep her grip, sliding back until she was flipped into a handstand.

Rourke didn't bother to grab her other leg, letting it drop to the ground so she was in some distorted back bend. "So easy to cripple like this. One limb and you're all but useless."

Natasha drew her gun from her belt, firing once at his head only to have it ricochet into the nearby lamp post. Gritting her teeth, she rolled back to her feet, leaping up once more and locking her leg around his waist, her fingers going for his eyes. His smile vanished, and then the back of his hand cracked across her cheek, the grip on her leg loosening so she fell to the pavement, vision spinning.

"Stay down," he said, kicking her in the side with no real force. "I wonder what Barton will think when he realizes you're gone." His hand stroked the side of her face and she whipped her head to try and bite his fingers, the motion only making her vision spin harder.

How hard had he hit her?

"Barton's an agent, we're used to losing each other," she breathed out carefully, not wincing when his hand fisted in her hair boot pressing into her back as he pulled her back.

"Oh he won't lose you just yet. I'll make it hurt."

"You won't-"

Her eyes widened when a needle slid into the flesh of her neck, breath catching. It worked fast and before her head hit the concrete again, she was under.

-.-

They always told me it was the first cut that hurt the most. They lied.

-.-

Clint rolled out of bed, rubbing his face tiredly before looking over at Peter. The younger was sprawled out over every surface of the bed, head turned to the side and deep within the realm of sleep. Biting his lip, he ran a finger over Peter's brow before heading into the bathroom, grabbing his phone off the night side table as he went.

After washing his face, he checked the phone's messages. Usually he woke when his phone went off, but the day before had left him up half the night thinking and when he finally dropped off, he wasn't sure a foghorn could've woken him up. The first message was from some agent who was requesting help with organizing a mission, the second from Natasha.

He clicked it open and brushed his teeth while he waited for the picture to load. Peter shuffled sleepily into the room beside him, kissing his cheek before peeking curiously at his phone.

"Clint?"

"Hm?" Clint spit the toothpaste out and winced, holding his hand out for Peter to put the phone in. He brought it to his eyes, lowering the toothbrush to the counter top.

It was Natasha, arms strung up by chains and hung over her head, the wall behind her plain cement brick. Her hair was pulled back haphazardly so they could see her face. Know it was her. Her eyes were closed though, and she was limp in her confines. There was no text beneath it, and when he hit call, the line had been disconnected.

"JARVIS? Can you track Nat's phone?" Clint asked quietly.

"No, I cannot sir. The device must have been destroyed."

"Clint?" Peter's arm wrapped around his shoulder as he dropped the phone on the counter, heart racing.

Before Peter could say anything else, the phone buzzed once more. Clint reached out and opened the message, this time from an unknown number.

Let's see how long it takes before you crack.

"JARVIS, track this number and give us the coordinates as soon as you have them," Peter ordered, reaching over and turning the shower on.

"I should have it within 5 minutes, Mr. Parker."

"Peter," Clint began.

"Hush, quick shower, we have work to do," Peter said firmly, grabbing Clint's shoulders and squeezing. "She's our teammate. Damn whatever SHIELD says, we're going after her, got it?"

"I was hoping you were going to say something like that," Clint said quietly.

"Should I not inform SHIELD of these events or my findings?" Jarvis asked.

"Store the information, be ready to send it if we tell you to," Peter said. "I'll use the code Stark gave me."

"Very good, sir."

"Code?" Clint asked, calmer now that it seemed like they were moving in a certain direction. He had never been much of a leader, that was what Coulson and Natasha were for. And apparently, Peter as well.

"Long story, tell you while we're swinging," Peter said, grabbing his arm and pulling him over, yanking his shirt off and pushing his pants down. "Shower now. Talk later."

"Yes sir," Clint said, managing a teasing tone despite what he was feeling inside.

Peter pulled him out from under the spray, kissing him firmly on the lips. "It's going to be alright, Clint, I promise." He cupped Clint's face, kissed his forehead and pulled back, offering the smile he always did before he went and kicked ass.

"I trust you."

"I won't let you down."