Chapter One:

"What if I told you, we could pull off the perfect crime?"

Justin Hammer, CEO of Hammer Industries, had in front of him an elegant bowl full of organic ice cream and he wanted nothing more than to eat it before it melted. Yet, somehow, two businessmen had gotten his assistant to get a meeting scheduled just around dinnertime. She knew that he always preferred lunch meetings rather than evening meetings and that he preferred a profile on the men he'd be speaking with. She also knew that he preferred his desserts first and yet, she had scheduled the meeting right at the start of dinner when she could have very well just had the hotel staff send the men in once the appetizer was served. He was certain he was going to fire that as of now incompetent, albeit smokin' brunette once he got into his office the following morning. But then again, she looked amazing, and he loved watching-

"Mr. Hammer?" one of the men asked breaking his train of thought.

Hammer looked up from his dessert to the man who was talking. He had blond-brown hair, which was neatly combed to one side, and the build of an athlete. Those were the only things that Hammer took away from first impressions, that and the man's taller height.

"I'm sorry." Hammer replied, "You said a perfect crime? All crimes leave some sort of evidence though."

The man who was sitting on his right smiled, almost impressed that he'd brought up that point, and that made Hammer smile knowing that he'd thought one step ahead. "True enough, but with this crime... There's not re- well let's just say there's no apparent evidence. Besides, can you think of what evidence can be left to prove that a crime happened within your own mind?"

If Hammer was perceptive, he would have caught the expression on the other man's face at that question. An expression that would have told him, evidence did exist. However, the Hammer Industries CEO wasn't very observant at all and was more preoccupied with words and his ice cream than someone's expression.

He mulled over the man's words, "To be honest, and let's be honest with each other, this little proposition of yours sounds too good to be true."

"Well, what if we told you it was possible?" asked the man to Hammer's left.

For a moment, Hammer just shifted his glance from one businessman to the other before giving into his mild curiosity. A perfect crime… barely any evidence left? Possible?

"Okay, I'll bite." he said, leaning back in his chair, "Whattya got for me? What's this perfect crime called?"

"Extraction."

0o0o0

"This just gets easier every time." said Clint Barton as he loosened the black tie around his neck. He didn't hate formal wear, he just really, really disliked wearing it, and Steve knew that. The restricting black tie and the buttoned-all-the-way-to-the-neck-shirt were just suffocating and too showy for the Shield agent who preferred either his own custom suit or the black armed forces Shield gear. But this wasn't an assignment… this was for a friend and Barton would endure torture for his friends. That wasn't saying much though, he had a short list. And it was for a couple of people on that short list that he wore this damned suit and was in this damn dream after all.

Though now he was glad this wasn't going to take much longer. The meeting had gone according to plan. They'd explained extraction, sold it to Hammer, and got him to hire them on the spot to rob from Tony Stark. So far, so good.

When the dinner meeting was over, they had told Hammer to make sure that his vault was secure informing him they had seen a familiar thief, who targeted, in general, the richer class, lurking around in the lobby. It was a weak story, but good enough to have the CEO believe them which meant that right about now he'd be at, or at least heading to, the vault room, securing all of his secrets.

Yes, everything was going smoothly.

"I mean, we've extracted from this guy what- three times in the past year?" Barton continued as they walked outside onto the hotel's large balcony that stretched from one side of the building to the other and extended over Pacific Ocean.

"Yeah, well, this time it's much different." Steve Rogers answered as he swiped a glass of champagne from a passing waiter's tray. "By the way, clever use of a party."

Barton shrugged, "Needed some cover."

Steve grinned, amused, he knew this had nothing to do with cover. "You did this because you needed a reason for the suit."

"Hey, I'm not gonna get dressed up in this," Barton laughed gesturing at the formal wear, "and not have a damn good reason."

Steve shrugged in reply. It was Clint's dream, so he could do whatever he wanted.

The two friends found an empty spot at the end of the balcony by the railing, a view of the ocean out in front of them. In the silence, the mission came back to Steve's mind, "We need to get into that vault."

"You need to get into the vault, Cap." Barton pointed out, as he leaned his forearms on the railing and looked out to the sea.

Steve noticed a far-away, zoned-out look on his friend's face. He knew that meant Clint was seriously thinking about something… someone maybe?

For a moment, Barton let himself get lost, but an instant later that moment passed. The mood changed, the Shield agent was no longer laid back, and from where he stood Steve saw that shoulders became tense and when he spoke his voice grave. Steve knew what that meant: Clint was pissed.

"How did Hammer get the Mark II and Stark Tech blueprints?" Barton inquired.

"Rhodey... the government." Steve answered as he downed the champagne. He knew it would only be a matter of time before they came around to this part.

This extraction wasn't something Clint was informed about until last minute… all he was told was that Stark tech and a Mark II suit went missing and that they needed to get the location of Hammer's warehouse to retrieve stolen tech and prints. Steve filled him in on the extraction plan on the way to meet the mark and that was all the information given. Now, it was time for Steve to fill in the blanks. He continued, "They want access to the Iron Man technology and Rhodey got a suit for them during that time Tony thought he was dying."

Barton muttered a curse under his breath. He remembered those couple of months. It made a later Shield mission involving a heavy firefight against a drug cartel seem like a vacation. During that time, Stark had been more annoying, obnoxious, brash, and worst of all more reckless and he had nearly driven Pepper, Barton, Rhodey, and Happy insane in their own separate ways.

Pepper, who had been assigned CEO, had juggled everything from Stark's image to comments on his actions, to managing his schedule and appearance. Stark's unpredictability made Barton paranoid that he was determined he not kill himself with any of his stunts. Rhodey was worried that Stark would abuse the tech he'd made, and Happy was driven to near exhaustion from driving and being dragged everywhere at Stark's whim. Barton had felt sorry for the poor guy and agreed to take on Happy's driving duties for Stark leaving Happy to be there for the new CEO. Suffice to say, everything had been crazy.

Now, it wasn't a surprise to Barton that Rhodey had been able to get the suit during then. Hell, Barton could've been joyriding the Mark IV on the side, but that would've been a betrayal of Stark's trust. It was bothering him that Rhodey knew that as well and was an even longer friend of Stark's, and still he took the tech. However, Barton knew that Rhodey had a reason. The man had been ordered by the US government to obtain the tech, and with Stark's actions he must have believed he was protecting the nation, which then would have made sense but even still…

"But Stark has redundancy codes. How-" Barton started, referring to the system of codes Stark used to restrict access to the suits… only certain people knew them. Even his lab had security codes that only a handful of people knew.

"You know the codes, so does Pepper. Hell, even I know them. There's a short list of people that Stark trusts. We're on it and so is Rhodey." Steve pointed out as he leaned back against the railing. He saw that agitated look on his friend's face, but couldn't nail down a reason. "You're bothered."

Barton threw him a glare, but Steve ignored it, "I know that this is too soon. I mean I knew you were abroad…"

"Too soon?" Barton snapped at his friend, "I've been abroad for six months and no one's even bothered to tell me that Rhodey stole the suit and that Stark Tech blueprints are slowly going missing. I'm the fucking head of a security-"

"You know as well as I do, that you're a Shield agent first." Steve replied calmly, "Stark didn't want to pull you out from the field for this and Coulson, others back at base, and I have been helping.

"Just around the time you left, Rhodey confessed to taking it and told us that the government was trying to break it down… we couldn't get to it without causing some internal fires so we left it there. Tony said it would take decades without his help to get it open, so we all just waited for an opportunity to retrieve it. When they couldn't figure it out in a few of months, they wanted to weaponize it further and they hired Hammer to do it. That was at the start of the month. And at least Rhodey told us when Hammer had it."

It wasn't that no one had bothered to inform Barton about the thievery, they all knew that Barton took both of his jobs seriously, but it was Stark's call and his insistence as well as Pepper's and Happy's that Barton be left out.

Clint understood that and it slightly bothered him, but what truly got under his skin was that the Iron Man suit, a piece of tech that was just as heavily guarded by- well- other tech and surveillance, was stolen under his watch… not while he was out on a mission for Shield.

"C'mon, we'll fix this." Steve assured him, placing his empty glass on a passing tray.

"Yeah, I know." Barton muttered, as he turned around to face the hotel, leaning back on the railing same as Steve. "Don't tell anyone else this, but… it feels good to be back. I miss this."

Steve smiled. "You know most extractions work best with more than two people."

Barton chuckled. "Boy are you subtle."

He knew this was an offer, and it was an offer Steve had always extended to him for the past year, ever since he'd stopped going under regularly- deciding to focus instead on actual field missions rather than extraction.

Steve didn't even reply. Every time he'd made the offer he was always serious. Extractions always worked better with a couple more people especially the more complex ones. He had a few other partners here and there. He had teamed up with a couple of training Shield agents who were specializing in the somnacin training. However, none of them compared to the team he had put together…

"You know that there are other extractors out there." It was a weak counter, but one Barton knew would convey to Steve his intentions of not coming back to this field for good.

"I only trust three others with my sanity."

Barton turned to his friend wanting to say something about why he didn't want to return and maybe about how much he missed the old team, but instead he settled for a half-smile Steve never saw for his gaze was still looking out over the waters.

The two settled into a comfortable silence while the hotel's party guests buzzed around them. However, though they were silent, the two extractors were far from relaxed. Their senses were peeled, awaiting that bad vibe, looking out for an ominous sign from the projections… It took Steve a moment to realize that the sea had no tide. It was completely calm and still… unnatural and eerie. Then all of a sudden, the waves started to pick up.

"Steve." Barton's voice was low and wary. Something was wrong.

The assassin's sixth sense had gone off just a few moments before and he had been looking around, scanning the projections faces for a familiar one. A familiar face that shouldn't be there. Call it an assassin's sixth sense for something life-threatening… but that sense went off and in a dream-state that only mean one thing. When it wasn't in the immediate vicinity, Barton looked beyond, scanning the windows and floors before settling back onto the balcony and looking at guests on the other side of the balcony. It was then that he saw him, but right off the bat he noticed that the man was different. It didn't take the assassin long to figure out why.

"He's yours." Barton stated, his voice laced with pity and sympathy. Perhaps, after all, his friend might understand why he didn't want to return after all.

Steve followed his friend's gaze and noticed the same person across the balcony. He, too, was bothered by something that was pulling in the back of his head, but he hoped for the better. This was much, much worse, and Barton's words made it even more so.

"Mine?" Steve asked, turning to lock eyes on his parnter, looking for some sort of tell to give him an answer.

"When I see him," Barton said with a nod, confirming Steve's dreaded suspicions, "he looks the same as when he dragged us all down that one time."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"Why didn't you?"

Because I thought I could handle it myself. That was the answer… The answer that both men knew they would give each other. It was an answer that they half-believed in themselves.

"I'll grab my gear and clear the vault floor." Barton told him as he straightened up, removing his tie and stuffing it in his jacket pocket before unbuttoning the top buttons of the shirt. "We need to get out of here, now."

Steve merely nodded in reply before Clint headed off back into the hotel leaving him to confront the ghost that had appeared. This wasn't the first time he'd seen him... and after each time something terrible always happened. The first time he'd thought it was a coincidence. It had been a simple one man, one level dream extraction, but on a crime lord. Bucky had appeared when he was in trouble, claiming to be there to help, and at first, Steve believed him. He had thought Bucky merely to be a powerful projection. He'd heard of them, projections of someone- in this case- significant in one's life… sometimes a mind would project the person as a means to make a dreamer connect with the dream. However, sometimes this involved someone dead and if the dreamer had a good grip on reality they could break free of the dreamworld and never connect to it. At that time, Steve chose to believe in the theory, wanting so desperately for it to be true… that he was here to help even if it was only in the dream world. But instead, the mission nearly fell apart and Steve woke up just in time to dodge bullets and call Coulson for an evac team, which got him out of there within no time.

On the way back to base, he tried to recall an instance where he had screwed up- where he had slipped up and let the dreamer realize he was in a dream, not reality. He tried… he frantically went through the dream looking for a flaw, a messy execution, a mistake… none. There was none.

From then on, he knew he had to watch himself and use two level dreams more often than before… which was more unstable, but the only way to give him an out in case things went wrong. It was a precaution. He could only plan out the skeleton of a strategy and improvised the rest to fill in the blanks, which was more of a danger to the extractors rather than the mark. Without a plan to navigate the dream world or pull off the mission, the whole operation would either be in jeopardy or completely fall apart, and in someone's mind that wasn't affordable.

The second time he'd seen Bucky, he had shot him before the shade could do anything, putting the safety of the job first. But afterwards, he'd become so consumed with guilt and remorse that he'd let himself get distracted and the shade appeared once again to taunt him. The next time, he'd attempted a negotiation and ended up killing again, but his friend didn't stay dead.

This would be the fourth time and he knew he had to stop Bucky before he did something to endanger either Clint or himself and sabotage the mission.

Bucky was leaning against the rails, much like the way Clint was doing earlier. Forearms on the rail, eyes out to sea lost in some memory he was reliving for a moment in his mind.

"You do know what he was thinking about, right?" Bucky asked, with a smirk.

"What are you doing here?" Steve asked, ignoring the man's question.

"You know me, Steve." Bucky answered him as if he were unaware of Steve's tone and he threw his friend a familiar smile, the kind that said I'm-practically-your-brother-and-I'm-here-for-you. "I'm always here to help."

"No you're not." Steve snapped his voice harsh and cold, he was locking him out- or at least attempting to. Bucky turned to him… hurt. It was a guilt ploy. Steve saw right through it and didn't betray anything despite the remorse that spiked through him. Those past three encounters kept coming to mind and with it came the distrust that he clung to like a lifeline.

With no reaction, Bucky merely shrugged and turned away. "The ocean's calm." he noted to break the silence. "Remember, that extraction mission in the tropics?"

"Yeah, I do." Steve whispered, dryly. During the mission, when they had to stick around for a night, Bucky had insisted for no mosquito net, saying the room was fine and with the net it felt like a mesh cage.

"Natalie was pissed at me for a week." Bucky recalled, before he seemed to get lost again. His next were barely audible but Steve could make them out. "I miss her."

"I'm sure you do."

That name… Steve hadn't heard that name in- it felt like- ages. And it only served to remind him of reality, that this Bucky wasn't real. However, it didn't mean that it eased his guilt.

"D'ya Miss me?" Bucky asked, and for the first time in a long time, he sounded genuine. No trickery, no guile… nothing. Just pure curiosity from someone who merely wanted to know whether or not his brother ever thought of him. Steve slipped up. He believed him and for one moment, gave in.

"Of course," he answered, "You're like family. Like my brother. You know that."

Bucky arched his eyebrow and his mouth twisted into a wry, amused grin, "Yeah I do." He reached out and clapped Steve on the back a couple times, a once familiar gesture. "Hey, does that make Clint... like my step-brother or something?"

Clint?

Wait- NO!

The vault.

0o0o0

Where the fuck was he?

That thought rang through Barton's mind as he leaned against the wall next to the open vault. Steve was the one with eidetic memory, not him. He'd read the files and left them on the desk for Steve to skim through, but this was a dream, trying to remember very specific detail was near impossible because once you woke up those details are the first to go, unless you've trained yourself or retain all the information you read.

He gave Steve ten more minutes before he drew his gun and headed to the elevator. He should have not left him with a shade… especially since the shade was Steve's. He didn't know how violent Steve's shade was… but this time delay was too long for it to be safe.

The elevator arrived a moment later, but it wasn't empty. Instead, a fresh new wave of security poured out all armed, but that wasn't scary. Not one bit.

"Drop the gun!" one of the guards said.

Clint extended his hands up, but his thumb flicked some setting on the gun that he knew no one caught. He tossed the gun in front of them with a smirk. He stood still, but with his eyes memorized exactly where each man was and noted their weak points. He looked for optimal shots, noted who would be easier to take down and who he should take down first. He had his strategy planned right before a high pitched emission tore through the air and sent the guards yelping in pain, covering their ears. The noise lasted long enough to distract them before it cut itself off. The guards didn't even have time to do anything more but thank God that it had stopped before the shots rang.

When he dry-clicked, Barton emptied the mag and reloaded it.

Thank you, Stark. He thought as he looked at his handiwork. Leave it to Anthony Stark to create some weapons worthy of a James Bond movie.

Suddenly, he heard a gun load and out of his peripheral caught a shadow which showed that someone had a gun trained on him.

Fuck! Why didn't I sense that?

"Turn around slowly." the person ordered.

Oh, that's why. Barton thought, recognizing the voice. He wasn't a threat, even with a gun, and the assassin knew that because from where he stood when he turned around… he saw that the safety on the handgun was still on. Barton merely smirked.

0o0o0

"No." Steve whispered as he turned to glance back at the hotel. As he did, he noticed the party and crowd around him had virtually disappeared. No one was around.

He whirled back to Bucky and caught that smile… wait, smirk? Yes, that was most definitely a smirk.

"I'm sorry," the man said as he shrugged his shoulders innocently, "Forgetting something, Steve? Or someone?"

Gunshots rang around him, but none of them sounded like a Sig. They were gunshots from another night. Steve winced in pain for it sounded as if the shots were live and right around him.

"You know," Bucky started as Steve turned his focus to him and saw he had closed the distance between them a gun drawn in his right hand. But this wasn't the same Bucky. This one was wearing a black vest and long sleeved colorful shirt with dress pants and some fancy shoes. He remembered that job. That trip to Limbo… This was Clint's shade. "If you knew what I knew… then you'd say he deserved this, too."

And he was gone in a blink.

0o0o0

"Thought you could trick me, huh?" Hammer asked as a couple of new guards flanked him. Barton's confidence, however, didn't falter.

"As a matter of fact, yeah I did. To be honest, and let's be honest with each other," Barton answered throwing Hammer's obnoxious words back at him, "we kinda had you, and there is no way you figured out our con."

"Con?" Hammer asked, "Don't you mean job? Extraction and all?"

Barton's smirk faltered.

What? How the hell did he-

"A mutual ally told me." Hammer admitted with a shrug.

Barton's jaw tightened. Ally? It had to be the shade. He needed to make his move before it was too late. As soon, as the guards moved towards him, he charged the nearest one. The man attempted to punch him, but Barton easily deflected the blow, grabbing his wrist before driving his elbow down into the man's arm following that with a swift hit to a nerve cluster in the neck. The second guard was trying to help his partner but Barton kicked him back before snapping the neck of the man closest to him. The last guard was easy to put down for good and the fight was quick and violent. Too bad the fight hid the sound of an approaching enemy.

Something tickled the back of Barton's neck, and he instinctively dropped to a crouch drawing his weapon and firing at the enemy he had sensed behind him. But there was no one there. He could hear Hammer calling for more guards from inside the vault, thinking that he was safe there, but with the shade nowhere was safe. They needed to get out…

He stood up and turned back to head into the vault but instead turned around and found himself face to face with…

"Hey, there, Barton."

A muted gunshot beat Barton to any action or word. His eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat as pain lanced through him. He crumpled to the ground trying to keep the weight off of his shot knee.

"Oh, thank God you're here-" Hammer said as he left the vault. Bucky turned back and Barton took that opportunity to roll onto his uninjured side and fire off a couple of shots, but they went wide of the shade as white flashed across his vision and it swam before him.

Annoyed, Bucky shot once more and white obliterated everything for a heartbeat and agony coursed through his entire being. He writhed, but clenched his jaw to keep the cries of pain from escaping.

"Tsk. Tsk. Tsk" Bucky clicked his tongue as he looked down at him.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Hammer shouted, alarmed. "You- he's going to die-!"

"Nah," Bucky assured the man as he kicked Barton in his side to keep him from fighting back.

Barton struggled to cut himself off from the pain. To focus on the fact that he was lying unhurt a level above, not a scratch and no pain whatsoever. He needed to breathe…

"He's gonna want to though." Bucky said with a smile.

0o0o0

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

Steve ran through the hallways, sprinting up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He knew Bucky wasn't stupid. He would ensure that Clint lived.

If you knew what I knew… then you'd say he deserved this, too.

Bucky's words weren't his. Steve knew that was that it was Clint's conscience talking. For one who took life on a regular basis, he knew that Clint was holding a lot in, and his mind was projecting it in the wrath of a shade. It was feeding off of that guilt, remorse, and pain, and with all of that inside the shade was going to redirect all of those feelings onto Clint.

Steve hit the vault floor, out of breath, but pushed himself to run through the hallways, jumping over the bodies and towards the vault. Clint should be there… should have been there as Steve turned a corner to the vault. But no… there was no master assassin impatiently waiting for him, there were only more bodies.

"Clint?" Steve shouted, gun drawn and ready for any hostiles that might have heard him, but he highly doubted that Clint left a hostile breathing. However, that didn't answer the question: Where the hell is he? "Clint, answer me, damnit!"

He ran down the hallways, weaved through dead bodies but there was no sign of him. Adrenaline was coursing through his veins. Bucky was a shade… unpredictable to everyone else but to the person projecting him and at this current time, it wasn't Steve. The extractor took a shaky breath, as he realized there was nothing he could do. Wherever his partner was, he was on his own. The only thing Steve could do was complete the extraction before the kick happened.

He easily opened the vault door using a bypass code, and saw that files were spread out neatly across a table in the center of a steel room. There was a spin lock vault door on the other side of the room which held other secrets, but Steve didn't have to do any work to get passed it. Barton had already made the files ready for him. The folders weren't as thick as he thought they would be and as he opened the first one and started reading he realized that the files had been pared down and only the most important details that he needed to remember remained, which only meant that Clint had time to sort through and thoroughly read the files. Steve didn't have time to wonder how long he had left his partner out to the whims of the dreamer because he was speeding through the pages.

In about five minutes, he had learned where Hammer's warehouse was and exactly where the Mark II suit was as well as its current condition. From the blueprint folder, he noted the certain markings on the edges. Dates? He deciphered the rest of the markings as quickly as he could, and when he put it together discovered the markings did indeed translate into dates and they gave him a timeline. According to the numbers, the blueprints were fed to Hammer for the past two and a half months and a watermark on the first page of the blueprint told him that the legal department at Stark's main office building in New York was the source of the leak.

As soon as he'd finished the files, he stacked the papers into a neat pile; and then pulled out his lighter. He couldn't let Hammer retain the knowledge of the suit and the blueprints and judging by the flecks of ashes he saw on the ground Clint had thought the same and had gotten rid of the rest of the information. He lit each of the corners on fire and watched it burn for a moment, but it was a moment too long. Steve had made two mistakes and he mentally berated himself. He had let his emotions get the best of him and had turned his back to the door, and now he was at gunpoint-

"Eject the clip and empty the chamber in both guns." Bucky ordered, his voice echoing in the small steel room. "You know the drill."

Curses streamed through Steve's mind as he saw Clint's shade step into his peripheral. He could also hear the very distinct sound of expensive shoes squeak against tile. Hammer was here, too. Steve reached for his gun, thinking he could perhaps shoot and kill Bucky before injuring Hammer and interrogating him on Clint's whereabouts.

"Slowly, Steve, or I'll shoot your shoulder out of its socket." Bucky threatened, pulling the hammer back on his gun.

Anger coursed like liquid fire through the extractor's veins as he resigned to following the order. He slowly drew the gun, ejecting the clip and emptying the chamber before repeating the process with the spare at his back and under his suit jacket. He kicked the pieces off to the side.

"Hands up." It was Hammer who spoke this time. "Turn around."

Steve did so. He thought to throw a smirk at the mark, get him riled up, but it was Steve who got riled as he spotted the gun Hammer was holding rather carelessly. It was Clint's Sig. He must have stared at it for too long because Hammer caught him and held the gun up.

"Like this?" he mocked as he waved it in the air before he trained it on Steve, "Picked it off your friend."

Steve's jaw tightened and his hands balled into fists. "Where is he?" he seethed through grit teeth.

"Bring him in!" Hammer called as he stepped to the side and away from the door. Steve knew without a doubt that Clint would be brought through the door, bloody and beaten with maybe a busted lip and a swollen eye, but the broken body that was dragged through the door was not what he expected.

Clint?

He could only think of his name, couldn't even make his vocal chords work to even muster it in the back of his throat. He only stared. There were deep cuts that looked like carvings on his body, they weren't deep enough to cause extensive blood loss but shallow enough to cause pain. As two of Hammer's guards dragged the body in a blood trail followed them. The messy lines of red against white tile wrenched at Steve's stomach as he realized that the blood came from the legs.

Clint was thrown onto the table, the still burning files blown away and falling off to the side. Steve noticed that blood was pooling heavily around Clint's knees.

Oh, God.

Clint's knees had been shot out.

"Clint." he choked as he took a step towards him only to have guns pointed at him and warnings shouted out at him.

There was no way that Clint was alive. He prayed, like he never had before that his partner was dead and it was just a mauled body lying in front of him not a living, breathing-

Barton groaned, his non-swollen eye catching his gaze. Steve didn't know it, but Barton was trying to form words, a weak assurance.

"Couldn't kill him." Bucky shrugged, earning such a furious glare from Steve. If looks could kill, the shade would have been torn apart limb from limb, but it didn't and he was merely leaning casually against the wall as if this were nothing.

"We tried to get him to talk." Hammer added, "But he didn't give anything away-"

"You didn't need to!" Steve bellowed, pointing at Bucky, "He knew everything!"

Steve didn't fail to notice that the CEO was genuinely shocked and turned to Bucky with wide and worried eyes.

Bucky shrugged, answered the question before it was spoken. "You didn't ask."

"You said you didn't know-" Hammer said, dropping his guard and easing his grip on the gun.

"Well, I lied!" Bucky shouted, "You're losing focus! This is a dream! You're gonna wake up and Barton here isn't gonna have not a cut or a bruise on him. So relax."

It was a mistake. Bucky shouldn't have turned away, because Steve rushed towards the table where Clint was lying.

"Sorry about this." he whispered before he violently snapped Clint's neck.

0o0o0

He woke up with a scream tearing at his throat. He had bottled it in when he had been cut at and beat, not giving Bucky the satisfaction to know that the cuts were too deep and he could barely take the punches anymore.

He was breathing hard as he shot to his feet, off the recliner shaking off that numbing feeling that had started to seep into his bones within the dream.

"Clint!" someone shouted and soon a dark haired woman rushed to him and was at his side. She held onto his arm, ready to pull him back in case he lost balance or his legs decided to give up on him. "Clint, you okay?"

"Wake him up." he mumbled, giving her a nod to answer her question. But he hadn't been clear enough because she remained by his side. "Janelle, the dream is collapsing, wake him up!"

0o0o0

"Hey, get back!" Hammer shouted, as he tensed up and pointed the gun at Steve. At that moment, the vault began to shake as if struck by an earthquake, but a natural disaster was far from the actual cause.

However, whereas Hammer and his guards were ready to shoot, Bucky only laughed as he shook his head at Steve.

"What are you doing?" Hammer asked, nervously. "We need to-" He was cut off when he lost his balance and fell back against the vault wall.

"We don't need to do anything anymore. He snapped Barton's neck." Bucky said and in a blink of an eye, his appearance shifted once more and it was Steve's shade. "You shouldn't have done that."

Steve smirked, ignoring the bewildered and babbling CEO by the door who couldn't keep his feet planted on the ground. "What are you gonna do, Bucky? Shoot me? Make me hurt until I can't say a word?"

"That's just too easy... for you." Bucky answered.

Steve heard the gunshots again but this time they were combined with familiar voices. They were incredibly loud and resonating in his head. He clapped his hands to his ears in an effort to dampen the noise, but it pierced through and he could start hearing some ringing. Images flashed through his mind, and when he looked up, the area around him shifted. The vault was gone and he was standing on a roof...

"No." he choked out as he shook his head in an attempt to get the image out of his mind.

Not here. No… Not again. Not this.

We're in a vault, Steve! Focus! He yelled in his own head.

He looked up again, but the environment didn't shift back. At the roof's edge were two figures, a woman with dark crimson hair and the person who was holding her there. She looked dazed but managed to keep her balance.

"Nat!" someone shouted.

Suddenly, the ground disappeared under Steve and he found himself flying in the air.

0o0o0

Steve sat by the poolside, head drooping down and his chin to his chest, asleep. Janelle shook him by the shoulders.

"Steve, wake up!" she yelled. "C'mon, wake up!"

She picked his head up, tilting his head to the side and giving him a firm slap. She'd apologize later.

"Steve!" she shouted, "Steve, wake up!"

0o0o0

"Steve! Listen to me! You have to wake up!"

The voice was distant, but it was definitely the voice of Janelle Andrada, an architect Clint trusted.

She must have slapped him because that was the only way to explain the sudden force and disorientation that threw him out of the vault. He thanked his luck he had just been standing in front of the doorway or else he would've still been in the vault. Her slap had woken him from whatever hallucination Bucky had been able to project and once he was able to get to his feet he realized that he had knocked out one of Hammer's guards because they had practically become a human cushion against a concrete wall.

The second guard was charging him, but he wasn't fast enough. Steve drew the handgun from the unconscious guard and fired twice putting the other guard down for good.

His instincts screamed at him to run but his body was rooted to his spot, ready for a fight.

"Steve!" The voice rang around him.

The extractor forced his legs to move and broke into a run for the stairs.

0o0o0

"He's not waking up!" Janelle yelled over at Barton who was pulling something from the top of the PASIV case. He pulled out a syringe from what looked to be a black case, and injected something into Hammer's arm. She guessed it to be some form of sedative to keep Hammer under just in case he was killed in the dream below.

"Dunk him!" Clint ordered before removing the PASIV connector at the man's wrist.

Without hesitation, Janelle tipped the chair back and let Steve fall back into the pool.

0o0o0

Steve's bloodied hands slipped on the handle in his frantic rush to get out that it took him a couple of times to open the door. He slipped into the staircase in the neck of time as bullets tore up the area by the stairs. He barely made it down three flights before he heard something thundering overhead. A couple splashes of water hit him before he stopped and looked up. A deluge of water was headed his way and it looked deadly. He merely smiled as he closed his eyes and took a breath and let the kick take over.

The next thing he knew, he was rising to the surface of a pool, sputtering for breath. At the edge was Janelle, extending her hand out to him.

"Captain Rogers," she said with a smile, "Sorry about that hit."

He smiled as he took her hand and was surprised with how much strength she had as she helped pull him up.

"Well, you do what you need to." he told her as he saw Barton standing off to the side, the PASIV at his feet waiting to be packed. Both Janelle and Steve approached him but it was Steve that asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Janelle added as she looked worriedly at her friend. "Are you? You looked like you were in pain."

Barton forced an assuring smile to his face, but Steve easily saw through it. "I'm fine." he told them before he pointed to the pool chair that was sticking out of the pool. "We need to disappear."

When Steve saw Janelle throw him a dubious look, he saw that she too had seen through that fake smile, but she left the two of them to attend to the minimal clean up. Using a close by pool net, she started to fish out Steve's chair.

Steve cleared his throat as he brushed his hand through his wet hair in an attempt to dry it.

"Listen, about what happened back there," he started to apologize, "I -I took too long-"

"Don't start." Barton said dismissively, "There's no need to. I get it. Besides, this isn't my first brush-in with him."

"When was it?"

"Three months back. He jeopardized my mission." It was a straight answer that told Steve he wasn't going to elaborate, not now at the least. Barton looked beyond Steve and to his friend who was able to pull the chair up from the water. "We need to get to a safe place. A place we can control."

"This is her dream. We're fine here." Steve assured him slightly glancing back.

"This is a dreamshare and she hasn't met a shade. We can easily project something into this world." Clint said worriedly as he packed the PASIV. "How long do we have left?"

"Hours."

"Alright, everything's back to normal." Janelle told them as she rejoined them, a wet woven poolside chair back in its place by a table on the other side of the pool. "We can disappear now."

However, instead of moving, silence settled between the three of them and it made Janelle guess she should leave them.

"I'll go… warm up the car." she told them as she left them and slid the back door open.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang and everyone turned to the door.

"Is he projecting a guest?" Janelle asked them, going to answer it.

Barton and Steve drew their weapons and ran after her.

"No!"

"Get away from the door!"

The architect's reaction was lightning fast, rolling off to the far side of the room as shots tore through the door tearing up the furniture as it ripped a path through the house. Steve and Barton dove for cover behind a bar.

"Janelle! You okay?" Barton called as the door was kicked in and more shots were fired.

The wood was splintering around the two extractors, but the bar was made of brick, too, so their cover held. They almost instantly leaned out from their cover to return fire at the shade the moment there was a gap in the gunfire, but when they did, there was already a body on the ground.

Clint kicked the body over onto so the man lay on his back and looked impressed as he saw three shots arranged in a triangle at the heart. Steve made a beeline for the injured woman and saw the bloody shoulder she was covering with her hand in an attempt to put pressure on the wound. He sat at her injured side and applied pressure to her shoulder.

"Nice shot." he complimented.

She winced and grit her teeth but she managed to turn her grimace into a grateful smile.

"You didn't even see the body." she told him.

"Three heart shots." Barton said as he stood in front of her. "Let me end this."

She raised her gun and pointed it at him. "Don't you dare shoot me."

"There's nothing left here. Mission's over." Barton told her.

"I'll wait it out." she panted, "If there's anything I never want to get used to seeing. It's a good friend kill me."

"Here's hoping you never will." Steve said as he suddenly applied a great pressure onto her injury. She snapped at him.

"Ow!" she cried, glaring at him.

But soon her pain ended and the last gunshot rang in the house.

Steve eased the body to the ground, closing her eyes before he stood up. He looked back only to see Barton punch the wall, denting it.

"She'll be fine, Clint." Steve assured him.

"She shouldn't have been here! We should've grabbed another extractor. Not her!" Barton said, looking at her.

"Stop that!" Steve shouted slightly frustrated at Barton's remorse, "This was a choice and it was a damn good one. We would still be under fire from him right now if it was someone not her."

"We endangered her!" Clint countered, yelling. "Bucky's trying to shoot us out of the dreams-"

"We didn't know he'd be here!" Steve cut in. "Jesus- calm down!"

But Barton didn't, he merely kept quiet. He was letting that guilt simmer within him. His shade was violent. He should have let Steve know. Should have told him and never let Janelle on board.

Suddenly, the two heard the familiar notes of Schubert's Rosamunde echo in the dream world which only mean in a few seconds-

0o0o0

"I hate you." Janelle whispered to her friend as she crossed her arms, glaring at Barton.

"Janelle? What are you-" Clint started before he caught someone out of his peripheral vision and looked up only to catch sight of his boss.

The conference room they had scheduled the extraction in was well hidden from outside eyes. The glass was translucent and multicolored and they had a biometric lock that kept the door from being opened. Yet somehow, Director Nick Fury had gotten in.

And he had been very silent. He was standing behind Janelle who was seated with her back towards him and unaware he was there even when Clint spotted. The woman barely sensed his presence and the moment she guessed he was close enough pushed her chair back into him ready to stab him with a knife she procured from her belt, but Barton was fast. He was between the two, his friend and his boss before either had a chance to unload their weapons into each other. One hand held Fury's gun up to the ceiling, the other hand stopped Janelle's at an angle that was wide of Fury's head.

Steve let out a sigh of relief as Barton looked between the two.

"Boss, Janelle Andrada, extractor and architect." Barton introduced looking from his boss to his friend, "Janelle, this is my boss-"

"Director Nicholas Fury of the Shield Agency." Janelle finished off as she looked down to see Barton wasn't budging. "Almost had me."

"You were off." Fury pointed out, eyes at Barton's hand holding her off.

Something clicked in her hand and the blade shot out like a bullet embedding itself inches into the closest wall. Fury didn't look impressed, but that near imperceptible twitch Barton caught was the only thing that gave it away.

"You wouldn't have even gotten close." Fury said.

"It would have been fun if I did." Janelle replied.

The two then looked at Barton, who slowly released the their wrists and backed up slowly. The blade retracted into the knife with a flick of Janelle's wrist and she clipped it back onto her belt as Fury holstered his weapon.

"I'm guessing this is where I take my leave. You know, mission accomplished and what-not." Janelle said as she looked over at the sedated CEO. "Or you guys go on and I'll clean up."

"I've got people here for that." Fury told her before turning to his agent and his consultant.

"Captain Rogers, Agent Barton, with me." he ordered them, "It was nice to meet you, Andrada."

"Same here, sir." she said before hugging Steve goodbye as he passed by her to go follow Fury. When Barton leaned in for the same gesture, she pushed him away, her palm pressing against his forehead to keep him back. He threw her a questioning look and before she could say anything she tapped him on the forehead. "You shot me… in the head!" She tapped his forehead for each word.

"You were in pain!" he said, indifferent to her actions, "Besides you said you didn't want to see and you didn't."

"Steve was a distraction." she realized as she glared back to the door. "Ugh, next time I see him, I'll punch him."

"Good luck with that." Barton smiled as he started to leave, but he hesitated at the door. "When will we see you again?"

He turned back for her answer only to see her give him a friendly smile.

"I dunno, Clint." she told him as she gestured to the hallway outside. "Ya know, your boss is gonna leave ya behind."

He only chuckled as he let the lock scan his fingers. He was out the door and down the hall following Fury. He knew it would be a long time before he ever saw that woman again, if he ever did.

0o0o0

Fury led his men to another conference room on a different floor. This room was also locked but this time with a piece of Stark biometric tech, which meant that whoever Jarvis had in his database was allowed in, and out of Shield there were few people Stark ever bothered to get registered in his AI's system.

Fury had settled in at the head of the table while Steve and Barton sat across from each other and a couple seats away from him, which amused Fury more than anything.

"So, what's so important that you activated Barton's GPS chip?" Steve queried as he leaned his seat back.

All Shield agents had a GPS tracker, one that allowed any Shield agent with the right access code to find their location any time of the day. If field operatives were to go on a mission, they would be 'tagged' with a special tracker that was applied to them through a spray. The tech in the spray were nano-sized transmitters which emitted their own signature and could be tracked everywhere and anywhere on the planet.

Though not a Shield agent and just a consultant, Steve knew a lot of Shield's procedures, which would have been a problem if he didn't know so many high ranking Shield agents and assisted them on a daily basis on the field. He also knew passcodes that would give him access to Shield tech, satellite codes, and even Shield safehouses. He knew nearly all of the codenames or aliases of Barton, Natasha, Coulson, and Hill. And he knew that Barton's GPS tracker was located in his kinetically operated watch which was on his left wrist.

"I've got a delicate mission for you." Fury answered as he turned to something that had been set up behind him. Neither man had seen it when they entered, and for a moment exchanged curious glances, but when small files projected onto the room's windows, the two only looked around them in awe.

It wasn't Stark's latest holographic tech but an older version, which left the images to be projected onto a surface, in this case the translucent windows. It still impressed the pair who rarely saw any use of the tech beyond Stark's walls. Whatever files were projected for Barton were mirrored on Steve's side. Folders, screens of information, projections, everything was there.

"We were able to obtain some of Stark's tech." Fury explained to them as he pulled up a file and made a copy sending it out to both of them.

The two wordlessly stood from their seats and opened the given folder. The individual documents spread out across the windows over the other information automatically, and the two extractors found themselves staring at information on Midgard International, specifically on their board of directors, also called the Asgardian Council.

"Midgard Internation?" Steve asked, recognizing the logo, "Last time I checked, they weren't a threat. In fact, they're one of Shield's greatest allies-"

"Steve-" Barton interrupted as he had already started to skim the pages, "Start at page seven."

Steve looked back to his folder and took out the page. It took a minute or two to fully absorb the single-spaced typed page. "Loki Odinson? The heir to the corporation."

"Former heir." Fury corrected, "Read on."

Steve and Barton did, Steve the faster of the two.

The page on Loki told them that he was Odin's younger son and was Odin's heir due to Thor's exile from Asgard. On the Council, Loki was a specialist at alliances and deals, and was known to be tricky. He could even find legal loopholes and twist words to help the corporation. Of course, Shield and the Council itself watched and monitored him and his actions, but never had they suspected anything far from the better interest of the company and the safety of the general public. In Thor's absence, Loki had been the ideal candidate for succession. However, when he pushed for an alliance with Jotun corp, a ploy to hide his true intentions which were to plant spies within the corporation and eventually orchestrate a hostile takeover, many tried to persuade him out of it and saw this action as the start of heading down a dark road for Midgard. Among those many was Shield, who tried to show Loki there was a lack of resources and men to pull off his plan. Upon Thor's return however, the Allfather declared his original will remain which meant that Thor was still the heir. The next page was a detailed affidavit from Council Member Heimdall that told of Loki's odd behaviors and disappearances from Palace Tower.

It was the next page… a written report from Natasha… that worried Steve as he read through it, and he knew that if he himself was nervous then Barton was anxious and probably was only now reading faster than Steve.

The report detailed Natasha's encounter with an extraction team tailing Thor while she was assigned to be his shadow. She had been compromised by the extractors, but quickly turned the table on them, recovered Thor, and captured the team. However, she had been too late to stop them from burning Thor's memory, which according to the team leader during an interrogation, was what they had been doing so far for the past couple of weeks since his return.

As Steve reached the end of the file, he thought it remained incomplete, that there was something missing.

"Where's the rest of it?" he asked as he closed all of his files.

"The details will be complete once I put in the passcode." Fury said, "This PASIV case has whatever details we have gathered that are relative, and this case will remain with you if you accept the mission."

"This isn't an extraction job." Barton stated as he closed up his files. From his body language, Steve saw that Clint was tense. "What exactly is the mission, sir?"

Fury took a moment, as if careful with his words. "During that interrogation, Agent Romanoff recruited Agent Sharon Carter to help her, and they performed a dreamshare interrogation."

To both Steve and Barton, that sounded odd but not for the reasons Fury believed them to be. He didn't bother to ask and went on to explain, "They were able to get the name of their employer.

"It's Loki." He paused, seeing the mild surprise play out on his men's faces. "We haven't told Thor, but Agent Romanoff has taken the responsibility to do so once I have either a confirmation or a declination."

"Sir, what is the mission?" Barton asked before Steve could do so in a less abrasive tone.

Fury knew his agent's feelings on missions that involved a team dreamsharing, but he needed to ask them and he gave them a one word answer. One word… that was their mission.

"Inception."

If you didn't know it, you would have thought time froze in the room. Steve and Clint stared at the Director of Shield waiting for a "Just joking" or "I'm kidding." They waited for something- anything along those lines… but Fury didn't say anything of the sort. In fact, he didn't say anything at all and his stonewall expression switched between his agent and his consultant.

It was Steve who was the first to gather his thoughts and put them into words.

"Sir, inception is incredibly delicate and isn't as easy as it sounds. Just because it was successful once before doesn't hold true to whatever mission you have planned." the Captain informed him.

"I know that, Captain." Fury stated, "And I know that this task is incredibly difficult even near impossible… which is why I thought to bring you two in and let you recruit a team of other dreamshare experts. Do whatever you need to do."

"Sir-" Barton cut in, "Inception isn't delicate… it's extremely unpredictable. The idea might not even take after all the work is finished, and if it did there's no guarantee that it is permanent. Not only that, but inception is incredibly dangerous… more dangerous than anything you've assigned our team to do before. Every single person that is involved in the dream has a chance to… well, not wake up."

"Do you mean, to die?"

"No, not exactly. They could fall into Limbo, and if Limbo becomes your reality… then, you are lost down there." he hesitated for a brief moment before he brought up a dark memory, "Sir, you know what happened to James Barnes."

"And if I recall the files right, you performed inception on him." Fury said.

"We…- what?" Barton asked bewildered before turning to Steve, who Fury had addressed. "Cap?"

Steve cleared his as he rolled the chair back towards him and took a seat once more. He took a moment, and leaned forward, elbows on his knees… when he looked up at Clint an apology was etched onto his face.

"You weren't there." Steve told him before he looked away, "It was… before Tony and I got to you. I knew Bucky didn't have a vault or a tower of memories like what we had…. He had something more personal… a small apartment, and it was virtually his mind. It was organized and everything in there was basically a different aspect of him.

"While Tony was building us escape routes, I found it…" he paused, staring off in the distance, recalling the memory in his mind, "And I planted a small idea in his mind.

What idea?

The question hung in the air. It didn't need to be told and Steve didn't break his trance to bother to look at anyone.

"Your world… isn't real."

The silence that passed was for the moment measured in breaths and it took a lot before Steve finally turned back to his friend and glanced at the Director, "It was the only way I could-" he choked on his words and gave up trying to defend himself. He had done so before, fought against his guilt which yelled at him in his head, in his dreams, in his memories… he couldn't say anything anymore.

"Rogers." Fury picked up almost a heartbeat after Steve lost his words, "You were all trapped. Barnes was lost. You took the road that would ensure that everyone came out of there alive and sane. I read Stark's report."

As if looking for a distraction both men turned to Fury and asked in unison, "Tony wrote a report?"

Fury saw it, how fast those two could bury their emotions. He blinked and there were two different men in front of him from the two that had been there only a minute before. He knew that subject of inception wasn't done with… but he went along with the diversion.

"Yes," he answered them, "I think he wrote it because he knew the two of you would leave out something and I couldn't pass up reading up on Stark's opinion.

"Now, about this mission-"

"Director, I-" Barton started, about to decline, but Steve was faster.

He stood and said, "We accept." And earned a look of horror and shock from his partner.

"Good," Fury stated as he eyed the door, knowing that he had to make a quick escape before the two started to argue and Barton was able to formally relinquish the mission. "There's a quinjet on the roof for you, Agent Barton. I'll be seeing the two of you at Helicarrier." He was almost at the door.

"Director, wait!" Barton said, "Steve's a bit out of it from the earlier encounter..."

Encounter? Fury found that to be an odd word.

"No, I'm not!" Steve countered.

"We're going to have to decline the offer. So you can-"

"Take off, Director. We do accept the mission." Steve had maneuvered around the table and stood in front of Barton before he could intercept his boss who was able to leave the room and head down the hallway.

Barton slipped passed Steve easily and was about to grab the PASIV when Steve grabbed him by the shoulder.

"Stop!" Steve shouted, but Barton brushed him off grabbing his wrist and twisting it, a silent warning.

And it was a warning Steve promptly ignored when Clint let go of his wrist. He attempted a hit a nerve cluster in his lower back but Clint must have anticipated it because he whirled around with a guard, knocking Steve off balance. It was surprising that Steve was able to duck Clint's elbow but he did, only to get hit with an uppercut into a chest which completely winded him.

It was pure instinct that had made Clint react, and he didn't have time to apologize. While Steve was down, he grabbed the PASIV and typed in a bypass code into the Stark tech lock, tailing his boss.

He was going to return the PASIV and with that reject the mission, and that would be it.

He thought it was going to be that simple, but as he turned the corner he saw a ladder start to pull away from a floor-to-ceiling-window which was completely removed from place. It was too late, Fury was gone and the mission was theirs. Formality screwed him over this time, in viewing the files he was a part of the mission, and with the mission being inception there was no way he was going to sit on the sidelines and merely be a consultant.

I need to shoot something. He thought as he approached the window, seeing the chopper fly off and the ladder retracting into the chopper itself. Barton gave a frustrated sigh as he leaned against the wall, and as he looked down at the case he realized that without it…

"Clint, give me the PASIV." Steve's voice came out of nowhere and was out of breath.

"I really punched you hard back there, didn't I?" Barton chuckled as he saw Steve leaning against the at the opposite end of the hall breathing hard.

"Geez, I really hate being at the end of that." Steve muttered, but Barton heard him and smiled, but his hatred for the mission didn't abate.

"Let me end this." he told Steve, who at the sound of that pushed himself off the wall. He was remaining calm while he wanted to scream, flexed his muscles when he wanted to be still ready to throw that PASIV into the air and shoot it until he dry clicked.

"Clint-" Steve started, feeling his ribs protest against moving.

Jesus- Barton was pissed, alright.

"What the hell were you thinking, Steve?" Barton asked, head against the wall slightly turned to him, but still looking up at the ceiling as if thinking about something. "Inception? One of the most dangerous dream operations… It requires sedation, you know that right? We die, he's got us…"

"Take it easy," Steve said calmly as he slowly approached his friend, "I know this sounds impossible… hell, we know it's almost impossible, but we can work around the dreamers."

"Work around?" Barton shouted as he pushed himself off the wall and stood in front of the window. He held the PASIV out over the edge, hundreds of feet in the air. "A team? Your subconscious… mine… they can bleed through. Why the hell did you accept the mission?"

"Midgard International. You know how important they are, they're practically a superpower-"

"Bullshit, you wouldn't endanger everyone's sanity just for that." Barton said, his grip on the PASIV's handle becoming viselike. Honestly, he was ready to throw it. "I swear to god, Steve, I will throw the PASIC out of this fucking window if you don't tell me right now why you thought taking this goddamn job was a good idea, what with Bucky running around in our heads trying to shoot us out of our dreams!"

"Can't you feel it, Clint? The thrill to be back in the dream… it's like a drug if you want to return to it, merely a job if you don't. But you want to go back… you miss it. You told me yourself." Steve said, hands outstretched as he approached, "This shade is a problem and if it's a problem for us…"

He trailed off purposely, hoping Clint would draw the worst conclusion and his emotions would continue to take over. And judging by the fear and anxiety that flashed through Clint's eyes, he knew that his mind had gone to the worst.

"We need to deal with it, and what better in an environment neither us nor the shade can control." Steve said, "But we need to go under as a team."

Steve didn't have long to wait long for a reaction. Barton stepped forward and reluctantly tossed the PASIV at Steve as he headed towards the stairs.

"You better hide that fucking case until we reach Stark Tower." Barton seethed as he entered the stairwell only to wait for Steve, holding it open for him.

Meanwhile, in the hallway, Steve took a moment to wince and rub his bruised chest, but he brushed off the pain as he passed Barton and headed upstairs.

"Sorry, I punched you." Barton apologized.

"Reflex?" Steve was referring to Barton's training.

"Yep." Barton affirmed, instantly knowing what he was saying.

"Sorry, I just forced you to help me perform inception." Steve apologized.

"Reflex?" Barton was referring to how Steve always did the right thing and did best by everyone, even if no one really agreed with it.

"What is?" Steve asked obliviously.

"Nothin'." Barton shrugged with a smile as he passed Steve to get to the roof. He needed to use his Shield passcode on the number pad that locked the door and beyond it lay a brand new quinjet.

"So, are we just gonna interrupt Stark's night?" Steve asked.

"He and Pepper are together now, there's nothing we can interrupt that they can't do later." Barton replied as they approached the Helicarrier, "Well, there is something, that Stark will probably kill me for-"

"So, let's call, first." Steve suggested as the quinjet opened to them. "Hmm, key must've been the PASIV."

"Guess so. It's a good thing I didn't shoot that thing then." Barton said as they walked in, "And nah, a surprise will annoy Stark and how many times has he annoyed the both of us."

"You're right." Steve admitted as he hid the PASIV, Barton heading to the pilot's seat. In no time at all, music started blasted over the stereo.

Was that….?

Familiar chords ripped through the air and echoed around him as the engine started up. Steve took his seat and buckled up.

"Really, Clint?" he asked as the lyrics started.

Livin' easy, livin' free. Season ticket on a one-way ride. Asking nothing, leave me be. Taking everything in my stride.

"Hey, pilot picks the music. Extractor who got us involved with inception shuts the hell up." Barton merely answered before he started singing the song seeing Steve was going to bother him.

"Barton-" Steve said as they took off and zoomed across the sky.

"I'm on the highway to hell-" Barton sang along, ignoring Steve.

"Barton!"

"On the highway to hell-"

Steve sighed. He didn't know how to engage the reflector panels, but it was night… they were okay, right? Eh, better safe than sorry. Steve started to flip a couple of switches and succeeded in turning on the quinjet's lights... the very opposite of what he wanted.

"What the-" Barton cried as he turned off the lights and then turned a very annoyed expression at Steve.

"Reflector panels, rock star." Steve mocked throwing back the look as he leaned back in his seat.

0o0o0

"They actually accepted," Fury said into his comm, watching clouds pass by from the seat in the chopper.

He was heading back to the Helicarrier to make sure that things were ready and operable by the time Rogers and Agent Barton arrived within the next 48 hours.

"Without a problem, sir?" Coulson asked, impressed.

"No," Fury answered, "Barton wanted to decline but Rogers didn't let him. I don't think his choice has anything to do with inception, however."

"Perhaps, it's the team involved." Coulson suggested. He may or may not have been referring to the flurry of suggestions about Barton and Romanoff which have been flying around base and elsewhere lately, but the thought came to mind.

"Maybe," Fury mused before he changed topic, though should anything come in to question with the Council he would vehemently defend his agents. "What is Agent Romanoff's assessment of Thor's memories?"

"He hasn't lost more than a month, sir. Though he is a bit shaken about the whole ordeal. He's requesting to fly in Jane Foster, Erik Selvig, and Darcy Lewis." Coulson reported.

"Grant it," Fury said, "As long as Romanoff deems it safe. Though the man deserves to see his friends we don't want to reintroduce them too soon. And have them briefed on his condition."

"Yes, sir." Coulson replied, "Oh, and by the way, has Stark been brought into the loop yet?"

"Not yet." Fury answered, "But I'm sure he will be soon."

0-0-0

Hallo! Don't forget to check out the original fic on tumblr (check on my profile). It has the inspiration for the fic and it looks prettier. :]