I hope no one noticed, but I made a royal screw-up and originally forgot to post this chapter, and skipped it entirely. My apologies. Thank goodness I realized what I'd done. I am fixing it right now.

Disclaimer: Do you really think someone as forgetful as me would own something as cool as the Avengers? I wish.

K.S.

Hawkeye couldn't sleep.

It was one in the morning, and he had woken up with chills, sweating and shaking. He'd rolled out of his bunk, splashed water on his face, and climbed up to his nest.

Hawkeye was sitting in an air vent, nested in with blankets and a few pillows, re-reading an old book with a tattered cover. It was called Crooked House, and it made him feel horrible, but it was the only thing that could calm him down after a nightmare.

Hawkeye hated the book. It reminded him of all the things wrong with the world. But it lowered his heartrate and evened his breathing. Without reading the book, he'd be hyper all night, unable to sit still.

So he nested in an air vent and read Crooked House.

Hawkeye had been there for about half an hour when a panel in the bottom of the vent made a scraping noise. He jerked upright, reaching for the knife he wore at his back. The panel slid to the side, and a tangle of spiky black hair appeared. "Knock, knock – any hawks in here?"

He relaxed, and held out a hand. Riven took it, and he pulled her up into the vent. She ducked under a support strut, and slid the panel closed.

Riven glanced around her. "Wow. Nice nest, Agent Barton."

He tilted his head to the side, studying her. "How'd you find me?"

She raised her jet black eyebrows. "Really? I created this ship, Barton, she's my baby. I keep tight tabs on her. Why do you think the cleaning robots never vacuumed up your stuff?"

Hawkeye considered this for a moment. "Thanks."

Riven shrugged. "No problem. And before you ask, no one else knows. Heck, I had to crawl through a mile of pipe to get here."

He smiled, and she caught sight of the book in his hand. "Crooked House?" Riven jerked backwards, apalled. "I hate that book!"

Hawkeye's smile vanished. "So do I," he said softly.

Riven went still, watching him. After a moment, she began to dig through the pockets of her lab coat, never taking her eyes off him. He would't look at her.

Riven produced a flat metal circle from a pocket, and smiled. She turned her attention to the object, pressing a smaller circle at its center. The circle made a hissing sound, and sprung out into a metal-and-glass cylinder. Riven shook it hard as it began filling with liquid.

Hawkeye watched in quiet puzzlement as Riven popped the top off the cylinder and sipped the liquid. She sighed in satisfaction, and offered it to him. "Margarita?"

Silently, he took the cylinder, drank, and handed it back. They sat quietly for a little while, and then Riven said suddenly, "Can't sleep?"

Hawkeye gave her a guarded glance. She stared into the metal wall in front of her, and continued, "I don't sleep anymore. Most nights I barely manage three hours. Fury keeps trying to get me to sleep more, but nothing works. I've tried sedatives, I've tried getting drunk – oh, that was an experience." Seeing his questioning look, Riven explained, "I can't get drunk. No, really. Believe me, I've tried, but it just doesn't work. Like sleeping. I just can't stay still for very long. I hate it. It makes me feel caged."

She shuddered a little, and Hawkeye said quietly, "You've got me beat." Riven looked a question at him, and he added, "Most nights I make at least five hours. Sometimes only four."

Riven shrugged. "I finally decided I should just come see what you do here, instead of staring at a monitor and wondering."

He smiled, just a bit. "Not much, I'm afraid."

She was silent for a moment, then gestured at the worn paperback he'd set aside. "Why do you read that book?"

Hawkeye looked down at the green cover. "It's my sedative," he said softly.

Riven's grey eyes went soft, and he met her gaze for the first time. "What do you do when you can't sleep?" he asked.

She bit her lip. "I analyze attack patterns. Fury has me identifying strengths, weaknesses, and repetetive factors."

Hawkeye raised his eyebrows. "Is there anything you can't do?" he asked wryly.

"Sing," Riven replied immediately. "I can't carry a tune in a bucket, and I have no sense of pitch. But I can dance like crazy."

He eyed her hair. "I bet you can."

Something beeped, and Riven slapped at her right ear. "Shit." She glanced at Hawkeye, self-concious as she scrambled upright. "It's my other communicator. I have to go."

Riven gestured at the margarita cylinder, and added, "You can keep that. Fill it halfway with cold water and close it when you're done." She slid her floor panel aside, and stared down into the access pipe. "Damn," she muttered.

Hawkeye rolled his storm-colored eyes. "Leave that alone." He opened the trapdoor he used to reach his nest, and added, "Come this way."

Riven watched him drop down, and glanced back at her own panel, hesitating. "You coming?" Hawkeye called from somewhere below, and she made a snap decision.

"Yeah," she called back, closing her panel. She moved to his trapdoor, peering down into the shadows.

"Come on," Hawkeye said impatiently, and she saw him standing below. Riven bit her lip, and jumped.

Hawkeye caught her around the waist, and set her down, all business. He opened the door out of his rooms, and pointed down the hall. "Your lab is that way."

Riven glanced once around his rooms, wishing she could have gotten a better look around, and said, "Thanks," as she ducked out the door. She was halfway down the hall when Hawkeye called, "Hey, Riven?"

Riven glanced back at him. He added, "Thanks for the drink. You can call me Hawk."

She gave him a shining smile, and vanished around the corner.

Sorry for the mix-up. Keep reading, keep reviewing.

K.S.