Disclaimer: I forgot to do this in the first part. (shakes head) Forgot a lot of things. Clint, Steve & Bucky don't belong to me … they belong to Marvel. Jacob belongs to Syfy and whoever wrote Stonehenge Apocalypse. Jack, Suzie, Tosh, Owen, and Angelo and Olivia Colasanto don't belong to me … they belong to the BBC and Starz. Rassilon belongs to whoever first created Doctor Who. The only individuals who belong to me are Liam Grady, Eleanor, Drew and Natalie (as well as Natalie's family). As ever, you're welcome to borrow them, just please, ask first and return them to me reasonably intact (after all, this is Torchwood)

Author's Notes: Okay, so I was wrong. There will be three parts, rather than the original two I planned. Something was said, and I realized that I would need a third chapter to return to Suzie, Bucky and the others in Nevada … sort of a progress report. To any new readers, welcome aboard. If you're curious about the story where Suzie comes back to life, courtesy of Rassilon, you can find that in 'To Whom Much is Given.' The resurrections of Ianto and Tosh can be found respectively in 'Prime and Prince' and 'The Hidden Child,' while Owen's return is chronicled in 'The Homecoming.' A few quick things about this specific chapter. First, I lived in the Carlisle area of Pennsylvania for seventeen years, which is why I chose that general area for Clint's meeting with Jack. Secondly, this is much shorter than usual, and is told entirely from Clint's perspective (rather than three blocks from the perspective of three characters, which is how I normally do things). In other words, this is really more of an interlude than it is an actual chapter. Oh, and I can't forget the holidays this week. To those who celebrate them … happy Easter, Passover, and Ostara.

Chapter Two

An Island of Normalcy

Central Pennsylvania

The following week

Later, much later, once his world began to right itself, Clint Barton would start putting things together in his mind. The how and the why and maybe even a little of the when. But at the time things fell apart, it all happened too quickly … it seemed as if literally, one moment, he was joking with the others on the op (gathering intel on a weapons dealer headquartered in Rome), and then the next? In next, he was receiving a coded message from Natasha warning him to get the hell out of Dodge, the others were gunning each other down, and it was only the fact that he was gathering his kit up that saved his life.

It was several days before he found out what happened and why Natasha wanted him off the grid. It was the only way she had to protect him, since she was physically unable to watch his back. As it turned out, being off the grid didn't mean he was without help or resources. Two days after SHIELD fell, he encountered unexpected help in the form of a youngish man and a teenage boy who met him in Budapest (really, Natasha?). They provided him with a code phrase he and Natasha set up, as well as a change of clothes, a full backpack, and a cover story. While he didn't trust them entirely, he also wouldn't turn down help. As they traveled, the pair told him that they were dispatched to help him get back to the States. Their way would take longer, but it would be safer for him. What was even more interesting? The man, whose name was 'Jacob,' had an American accent, while his young companion Drew had an English accent and called the American (who was around Clint's own age) by his given name. So, not his father.

And, as it turned out, they weren't kidding about it taking longer. But at last, here he was in the good ol' US of A, and everything Clint thought he knew, everything he believed in was shattered. At least he wasn't dying, which was more than he could say for Jack Harkness, who was leaning heavily against Clint as the two men mounted the stairs that led to the hotel suite which the immortal (after a fashion) captain was sharing with a woman very dear to Clint. The archer's right arm was slung around the captain's waist, while his left hand held the hotel key card. He muttered, "Sweet heaven, Harkness, trust you to get into trouble even here."

'Here,' as it turned out, was a small town in central Pennsylvania, about an hour southwest of Hershey, Pennsylvania. It was a beautiful area, and Clint hoped that he would have the chance to see it properly in the future. Jack groaned a little as they finally reached the floor where the suite was, rasping out, "Yeah, next time, I'll let you get gutted." Clint winced a bit at the reminder that Jack was fatally injured while protecting the sniper. It didn't matter that Jack would bounce back to life, just as good as new … what mattered was he took a knife that was meant for Clint. And he had an alarming habit of doing things like that. Really, when you thought about it, it really wasn't a surprise that he and Steve were such good friends. In that respect, at least, they were two of a kind. It was also how he knew Jack didn't really mean that. The man was hard-wired to protect others.

He didn't bother answering, though, not even to point that out. Instead, he located the room in question, and slid the key card home. The light flashed green, and the door clicked open. Clint pushed it open, just in time to see Natalie Tregarth walking the floor with her seven month old daughter. Her eyes widened ever so slightly, before striding forward to assist them. Not that she could carry Harkness … it wasn't exactly easy for Clint, and he was a helluva lot bigger than Nat was. She said softly, starting to put her baby on the bed, "I'll help you get him into the next room, and then you can take a shower." Clint shook his head and Nat stopped moving.

"Just get the door, I can take care of Harkness," he told her. She eyed him thoughtfully, but after only a brief consideration, she wheeled around and led him to the room, still holding Jocelyn. Thank God. Clint was strong, but Jack was almost a dead weight by now (no pun intended). Still cradling Jocelyn in her arms, Nat led him into the spare bedroom, where Clint eased Jack onto the bed. At the same time, Nat was carefully placing her infant daughter in the crib that sat just to the right of the window. Not a good place to have it, but he would help to move it later. As he carefully made Jack as comfortable as he could be with a hole in his gut, he called over his shoulder, "You look good, Nat. Becoming a mom again … oof!"

His compliment was cut off in mid-sentence as Nat threw her arms around his waist in a fierce hug. Thankfully, he'd straightened up at that point, or things could have gotten interesting. Even so, Clint folded his own arms around Nat's small body, some of the tension bleeding out of his body, because God, it was so good to be with people whom he knew and trusted once again. Jacob and Drew were fine, but he didn't know them, and they didn't know him. He rested his cheek against her hair and just held on. She wasn't Natasha, but she was Natalie, and right now, that was good enough. She was normalcy and stability in an even more topsy-turvy world.

"I am so glad you're okay! You go take a shower, I'll look after Jack and then when he's back, the three of us can talk. I'm sure you have a lot of questions," Nat replied, kissed his cheek as she pulled back. Clint could only nod. Looking closer, he could see the strain in her eyes which never went away completely, even now, more than a year after her father's death. Clint still didn't know how Carlyon Tregarth died, and no one in Torchwood seemed inclined to tell him. Not yet, at least. What he did know was that Jack was once more running Torchwood, with Sophia Tregarth taking point on interagency cooperation. Thank God.

Clint was on the point of saying something, but Jocelyn began to fuss. With an apologetic smile for him, Nat released him and gently squeezed Jack's sock-covered foot, before going to her daughter and scooping her up into her arms. Clint turned his attention to Jack, whose breathing was slow and labored. But the man's blue eyes were focused on Natalie and the little girl she held in her arms, and there was a faint smile on his face. Jack's eyes shifted back to Clint as he quietly died. Clint looked away, straight into Nat's worried dark eyes. He managed a small smile for her, one that she returned.

"I'll … uhm … I think it's time for that shower you mentioned," Clint forced out. It didn't matter how many times he saw it happen, he didn't think he would ever be comfortable with watching Jack die and come back to life. Then again, he was pretty sure that it wasn't especially comfortable for Jack, either. It was just … it was something that shouldn't happen. It didn't affect Clint's opinion of Jack … the man hadn't chosen this, after all. The archer just didn't want to be around when the captain died or revived. Nat offered a gentle smile as he escaped into the bathroom. The last he saw of her as he closed the door was her sitting down on the bed beside Jack, Jocelyn cradled against her chest as a free hand stroked Jack's hair gently.

He stripped quickly and methodically, stepping into the shower after ensuring it was warm enough. Sore muscles needed warmth … heat, even … and it had been weeks since he'd had a good soaking. As he soaped himself (borrowing Nat's body wash accidentally … thank God she didn't go for floral scents), Clint considered what he learned from Jack before all hell broke loose (again). His entire professional life for the last few years … based on a lie. And Natasha? God, what was she feeling now? Clint rested his forehead against the smooth wall of the shower, because how in the hell did you put yourself back together after something like that?

You just did, he knew. It wasn't the first betrayal he experienced, and he was pretty sure it wouldn't be the last, either. Hell, he knew it wouldn't be the last. And the letter which Jack gave him from Natasha … that told him even more. They were still getting an accurate body count from the fall of the Triskelion, to say nothing of the helicarriers. So many dead. But if the small team hadn't done what it did, the casualties would have been far worse.

He supposed he could have blamed Cap, since it was his idea to take SHIELD down, because you couldn't take one down without taking down the other. There was a part of him that wanted to. But the truth was, he really couldn't. It wasn't Cap who let those bastards into SHIELD. He just unmasked them. And, this was the same man who placed his faith in Clint. The archer knew men who would have killed him for what he did while under Loki's sway. Granted, it was on Natasha's word that he trusted Clint, but still. Besides, Natasha told him in the letter that much as he hated it, Fury agreed to the plan. Natasha saw the necessity. So did Hill, and SHIELD was her whole life, there was nothing else. If Fury and Hill were giving up … Clint squeezed his eyes shut. He would start over, it wasn't the first time and it wouldn't be the last.

At last, he stepped out of the shower and dried off, smiling a little to see the clothes that Nat ever so thoughtfully laid out. There were two sets, side by side, and each bearing a card with his and Jack's names written on them in Nat's nearly microscopic handwriting. He dressed, no closer to a solution than he had been when Jack found him nearly three hours before, but his head was a little clearer. He padded into the room where Jack died, to find the immortal alive, stripped to his trousers, sitting up in bed and cuddling Jocelyn. He looked up and offered Clint a small smile, observing, "Nat went to get food for us grown-ups. Decided to give us some daddy-daughter time … right, gorgeous?"

Jocelyn babbled excitedly at her father, and Clint couldn't help but smile. He observed, "Yeah, she's your daughter all right. She has Nat's smile, though." Harkness grinned at that, and kissed the top of his daughter's head. Clint asked after a moment, "How does she get on with Esther?" Harkness smiled a bit at the reference to his on-again, off-again lover. They actually had an interesting relationship. Esther sometimes referred to herself as a satellite to Jack's sun. Sometimes, she moved out of his orbit, but she always returned. She seemed perfectly happy with the way things were between them.

"She adores Jocelyn, and Jocelyn adores her right back. Don't you, baby doll? Your mom is glad that you look like me, but I'm glad you have her personality," Jack answered, kissing the tip of the baby's nose. Jocelyn made a funny little noise that made both men smile. Jack continued softly, "You know that Nat named the baby after me and after her dad, right? She didn't want to name her 'Jacqueline,' thought that was too obvious, and 'Jocelyn' was close enough to Jack without being blatant about it. And 'Caroline' was the closest she could come to 'Carlyon.' It still stuns me that she asked if I would object to naming Josie after her father."

Clint hadn't known that, but it didn't surprise him. Nat took her father's final betrayal of Jack hard, even if it was for a 'good' cause, especially after she nearly betrayed Jack when her older daughter was kidnapped. That was the trouble, though, with betrayal and 'good' intentions … Clint shook himself and redirected his attention away from his own experiences with betrayal, including the most recent one. The two men were silent for several moments, while they played with Jocelyn. Eventually, though, Clint asked the question which nagged at him, "Does it bother you? Her middle name, I mean?"

Jack didn't answer at first … he was busy playing with his daughter, making her squeal with laughter as he waggled his fingers at her and tickled her. Even so, Clint recognized it for the delaying tactic that it was. He was a master of his own delaying tactics. Archery was as much about timing as it was about hitting the target.

"Carlyon was Natalie's father. Yeah, for thirty-four years, she believed that he was her grandfather, but he was her father. She was angry with him for … well, for the way things fell out before he died, but he was her father and she loved him. She knew and appreciated what he did to keep her safe, appreciated the sacrifices he made for her, and yes, those were sacrifices," Jack replied. Clint nodded, but Jack wasn't answering his question. The immortal captain said quietly, "No. No, it doesn't bother me. I choose to remember Carlyon as the five year old boy I was trapped with and as the young man I served with and trained and even the old man who brought me back home. Not as he was in the hours before he died."

Clint swallowed hard. Instead of going further with that line of questioning, he chose something safer. Besides, he was a man, and doing the touchy-feely, heart-to-heart thing? Not for him, except when it came to his two Nats. He asked lightly, "So, DC? Were you there?" Jack shook his head emphatically and Clint bit back a grin, because given what Jack had been through when the 456 came calling? There was no way in the world Clint could blame him. Truth was, Clint had as little to do with politicians as he could possibly get away with. Funny thing was, all of the Avengers felt that way, even the ones most intimate with politics (eg, Thor, who was a prince in his own realm and would one day be king of Asgard).

"No. No, I was in Connecticut, finalizing the new Torchwood charter here in the States. I heard from Steve, though … I left him a voice message as soon as I realized something was wrong, and he called me once he was released from hospital," Jack admitted. That was … a rather interesting way of putting it. 'Something was wrong.' They were still cleaning up in DC from HYDRA's attempts to take out Nick Fury, and the unleashing of the Winter Soldier. Jocelyn began to fuss, and Jack pulled her against his chest. The baby settled down, hearing her father's heart beat. Jack kissed the top of her head and Clint's chest hurt just a bit. Not just as the father and daughter cuddling like this, but …

Once more, he shook himself, but before he had the chance to say anything, there was a small ruckus at the front door, then the sound of the door unlocking, and a familiar feminine voice cursing. Jack grinned and called, "Not in front of the baby, Nat-Nat-Natalie!" Both Jack and Clint laughed at the obscene language coming from the tiny woman now entering the room with several bags in her arms. Clint bounced up from the bed to help her, still giggling. As soon as one of her hands was free, she flipped off Jack, European style. Clint didn't bother asking her where she learned it. Her late father was from the UK, her college roommate was Italian, after all. While her niece Esther was the primary contact person for the other Torchwood-like institutions all over the world, Natalie often assisted when Esther was … unavailable (wink, wink, nudge, nudge).

"Don't even try to tell me that Josie saw that, Jack, especially with the way you're holding her. You look better, Clint … look like you feel better too," Nat observed, dark eyes sweeping over Clint. Her eyes returned to his, and he was warmed by the concern which he saw there. As they traveled through Europe, Jacob admitted that they knew Clint could have gotten back to the States without help. They were there more as cover than anything else … two Americans backpacking with a nephew of one of the men. He also admitted that the network they were with, Bulwark, supported Torchwood … who was, in turn, affiliated with the Avengers. Not, he was quick to point out, with SHIELD, but with the Avengers. Clint wondered if Fury knew that.

"I do. And you look fantastic, in case I didn't say it earlier," Clint answered. And she did. Her dark hair was pulled back from her face (probably in her favorite barrette, because she hated scrunchies), and she was dressed in a pair of tight jeans that Natasha called jeggings, a cross between jeans and leggings. Clint honestly didn't care what they were called, just how they looked … on the right women, they looked sensational, and both of his Nats were the right women in this case. But her expression … her relaxed, amused expression was the best part. It was good to see her like this, after the hell she and her extended family had been through lately.

She blushed, but much to his delight, Natalie only thanked him with a light kiss to his cheek, before saying, "Okay, give me about thirty minutes and I'll have dinner ready. Be warned, I bought enough food to feed both Steve and Thor, so we'll probably have food for the trip back to Oklahoma. Steve and Sam Wilson are following Sergeant Barnes' trail, but they'll be checking in with us at the end of the week. Oh, Sam Wilson is the latest addition to the fold, Clint. I've never met him face to face, but we Skyped while Steve was in the hospital. He's a really nice guy. Rex got snarky, and Sam shut him down, double time. It was pretty funny … Rex was gaping like a landed fish. And Lucas … he was practically rolling on the floor laughing. Jason and Owen literally had to pick up from the ground before someone stepped on him."

Now Clint was really sorry that he missed it. That wasn't the only thing he missed, however, and he told her, "Speaking of Rex, I'm sorry that I missed the wedding. I saw the pictures … Octavia looked radiant." He was rewarded with Nat's most brilliant smile. It was true … he had scrolled through the pictures which Steve sent him while he was on assignment in Italy before everything went south. Clint added after a moment, "But really, my favorite picture? Was of Ailsa in her flower girl dress." This time, he was gifted with a sweet smile at the mention of Natalie's oldest daughter.

"That was a darling picture of her. She told me before we left that she was glad I don't usually go away for missions … but since it was you, it was different. She's been very worried about you, ever since Steve told us about HYDRA," Nat answered. She paused as the men followed her into the kitchenette like a pair of ducklings, Jocelyn still ensconced in her father's arms, and then added, "She's also worried about Tony. You know she has a huge crush on him. The last time she told me that she was going to marry him, I asked her what would happen to Pepper. She thought about that for a minute, and then announced that they would both marry him. I pointed out that was bigamy and of course, Lucas said …"

"Yes, it's big of me, too!" Clint and Jack chimed in together with the (in)famous quote from the Marx Brothers. Nat rolled her eyes, but grinned as well. She began making spaghetti with the food she'd bought, occasionally slapping his hand or Jack's whenever they would try to steal a stalk of pasta or a pinch of parmesan cheese. She did not, however, order them from the kitchen or demand that they help her. Clint leaned back, enjoying this small island of normalcy for as long as it lasted. And it wouldn't last, he knew that. There would be more betrayals ahead of them, more confrontations, more bad guys to take down, regardless of their affiliation.

Those times always had to come. There would be quiet times, a lull between the fighting, and then someone would start something (or put a plan eighty years in the making into effect, as the Families demonstrated so perfectly … Clint had to wonder if they were in league with HYDRA as well. Hmm. Something to look into, although they could also be rivals for world domination). Things like that would always happen, because that was just the way it worked.

But those quiet times, the lulls between the fighting? You had to have those, to remember what you were fighting for. Maybe not for your own family, if you didn't have one, but for someone else's family. You had to have these times of light, these blessed islands of normalcy (or what passed for normalcy in your corner of the world) to keep going, to keep fighting. Soon, Clint would be on his way again, to return to the Avengers or to help rebuild SHIELD, whatever was necessary. It turned out that he really did have red in his ledger, and while he couldn't blot it out, much less wipe it out, he could at least control the hemorrhage.

With that acknowledgment, Clint's world, shattered by the revelation that his professional life was based on a lie, began to be put back together. Less than a week ago, he was told that he would be helping to take out an arms dealer. Who knew what his real crime was? Maybe he was an arms dealer, and maybe he was just a man whom HYDRA feared. He might never know. Nat huffed, breaking into Clint's thought process, "Okay, move … I need to get this bread into the oven. Jack, can you get the baby food out for Jocelyn?"

Jack responded with an exaggerated salute, answering, "Ma'am, yes, ma'am!" Nat rolled her eyes and swatted his butt as he turned to remove the necessary baby food jar from the cabinet (to say nothing of the itty-bitty spoon Josie would need). Jack responded with a squeak that didn't fool Clint at all. Jack was an immortal who would see all of his children and all of his lovers die, and Natalie was a mortal woman who would live about as long as Clint would himself, a woman who was far more innocent than either of her adult companions. But this was Clint's island of normalcy until the insanity kicked in again, and he planned to enjoy it for as long as he could. Glimpsing Jack's expression as he sauntered around the kitchen with his baby daughter in his arms, Clint was pretty sure that Jack would be enjoying it as much as he could as well. A phrase flitted through his mind, 'for those darkest of times, let us take what we can of the light.' He didn't remember what it was from, but damn, it sure fit the situation.

TBC