Author's Note: I wanted to thank everyone for such a warm and kind response to the story! Hopefully you all enjoy the next chapter!
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I will not ask you where you came from. I will not ask, and neither should you.
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Dana toyed with the device for an eternity. Her hands weighing the object back and forth, as if tampering with it would provide her with some semblance of guidance. She simply couldn't muster the nerve to press it.
She had so many question, so many concerns. Was she entirely sure that she could trust whoever was on the other end of the device? A gust of wind shot through the cave unexpectedly and she jumped in surprise at the sudden onslaught of cold. Her tiny fire flickered in protest, but managed to stay lit.
In a moment of panic, Dana pressed down on the device as hard as she could with her cold hands. Her small fire would only last an hour or two, tops. There was no way was she going to make it through the next few hours without help, assuming who or whatever showed up would even offer to help.
The object did nothing. No lights, no beeps, no means of confirming help was on its way. At least she tried. If she died in this tiny cave, at least the officials will see she tried.
She tossed the object aside and held her hands near the fire. She couldn't risk going out of her shelter, not without a stronger weapon. She had nothing helpful; an archaic computer file, her bow and her hunting knife. Items that would very quickly prove futile if faced with those heavily armed men. Her bow would help from a distance, but she was sure she wouldn't have the opportunity to use it when it would count.
So she waited. Though Dana wasn't even sure what she was waiting for. Logic pointed that she was probably waiting for death; a frozen death of hypothermia and frostbite.
She should have stayed at school for winter break. Her professor had offered her a research project to work on in lieu of leaving for the three-week break between classes. Dana hated coming home recently. Her dad was always more distracted and more sheltered every time she saw him. It was painful to watch. Lord knew he tried to steer conversation with her, but it was dry and empty.
Neither had anything to contribute anymore. He was done raising her, something that seemed clear to both parties in recent months. Dana was focused on things aside from hunting and marksmanship. She wasn't interested in the woods surrounding their home; she was interested in the world. A world her father tried so desperately to hide her from. That's when it hit her.
That was all gone now. She couldn't go home, to the only family she ever knew. She couldn't go to school. She was on the run, from someone or something. Her father wouldn't be able to protect her any more; he wouldn't be able to hide her.
With a shiver, she looked out at the night sky outside of her shelter and tried to forget the cold. She tried to imagine herself away from the snow and the wind, something to keep her mind off of the fact she was slowly losing feeling in her toes.
Huddled against the wall of the cave Dana wiped away a stray tear and grunted in annoyance. This was no time to show weakness.
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"Dad," 25-year-old Christopher Howard Stark looked in annoyance up from his computer to a ping on a nearby monitor. "Dad, someone's paging you... It's probably Stev- Clint Barton?" He looked toward his father who was tinkering with something across the room. "Isn't he dead? I'm pretty sure you said he was dead."
Tony Stark stood from his desk and walked over to his son. He pulled up a map on the main monitor in their workshop and located the source of the page. A map of the United States appeared in seconds.
"First thing you need to learn about spies is that they never really die," Tony Stark confirmed the ping belonged to Clint Barton's homing device. "Either that, or someone got their hands on a 20 year old Avengers card. It could be anything really." Chris fixed his attention to the specific location of the device.
"It's coming from Alaska," Chris frowned in confusion. "Like, rural Alaska. It's coming from a mountain ridge." He looked up at his father who was staring intently at the blinking light on the monitor.
"I can't say I've befriended any bears recently," Tony commented lightly. "Get Rogers on his way over. I want the team ready to go in ten minutes."
"Let me go," Chris jumped up from the chair and set his computer aside. "C'mon! I prepped the new control module and I need a test run."
"No," Tony countered sharply. He reached across a desk and flipped a small switch. "Jarvis? We're suiting up."
"Isn't it a bit late for an outing, sir?" the machine replied. Tony snorted, crossing the room to examine his mechanical suits.
"Ha. Ha. Get me… yeah," Tony scanned through his options on the screen before he settled on one. "Let's get going." He pointed a finger at his son, and narrowed his gaze. "Call Rogers, then bed."
"Whatever," Chris grumbled. He had accepted that he had lost any chance of fighting his father on this subject. He typed a generic message for Rogers to return to the tower as quickly as he could and sent it the soldier's way. It had been forever since anyone had let him out of the tower. His mom had insisted that it had nothing to do with a certain incident in Paris, but Chris knew better. His dad hadn't exactly been the most understanding about what had happened.
A team consisting of him, Captain Rogers, and Dr. Banner had been investigating an international drug ring in the city of lights. Chris had been working on compiling and sending back intelligence that the group had collected throughout their investigation. He had been sitting in a Paris café, uploading his file and minding his business when duty called and he tried to help.
Yes, Chris had blown up a car. But I was just one. No big deal, he even offered to pay the owner back after things had settled down.
Some thugs had been robbing a nearby couple and he needed to stop them, but they'd moved too far up the road. So, he blew a car up.
The press had a field day with the information and his dad banned him from helping on missions for an indefinite amount of time. No one bothered to thank him for saving the couple. Not that Chris was bitter about it.
He also inadvertently exposed an Avenger's team in Paris with the incident. When they'd gone to storm the warehouse the next day, the supplier had jumped ship. They had left the two-month operation overseas with nothing to show for it.
"Captain Rogers is in the elevator sir," Jarvis' voice broke the light hum of computers in the room.
"Direct him to the hanger," Tony ordered the computer before leaving the room to suit up and respond to the page. "Bed."
And with that, Chris was left along with his thoughts.
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Dana was chilled to her core. No amount of wilderness training could have prepared her for the Alaskan woods in the heart of December. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been so cold. Her fire had extinguished hours previously.
Dana pulled her legs close to her chest and started to rock back and forth.
She needed to think warm thoughts. Sunlight had started to peak over the horizon, taunting her of warm that would never come. She knew that the days could be just as unforgiving as the nights.
She wanted to move, to hunt, to do something aside from sitting in the cave, but even when she was in high school, they'd taught students basic hypothermia survival techniques. Apparently that was a concern in her hometown.
She needed to stay put, to keep her core warm. That was the most important part of staying alive. But her head was beginning to swim.
Dana was exhausted. Her head felt heavy and she fought to keep her eyes open. She needed to stand. She couldn't allow herself to die like this. She struggled to gain a footing on the icy floor of the cave, and fell backward onto the ground. Lying on her back, Dana stared at the ceiling of the cave. She noticed she'd finally stopped shivering. She mentally prayed the cold was over.
Dana rolled her head to the side and looked at her belongings neatly stacked on the side of the cave. She'd put the USBs and her father's note in the lining of her jacket but left everything else in the metal box.
She tried to keep her head clear. She thought of her father, of what his supposed friends were like, and what she'd do once she and her father were reunited. He'd tease her for being a weakling.
"No daughter of mine gets hypothermia!"
Dana felt an overwhelming wave of sadness once she recalled her dad's broken body on the ground outside of their home. There was a good chance he was dead. Gone. Forever. She closed her eyes at this thought.
"…hey!" Dana barely stirred. She wasn't sure if she was dreaming or dead. Either was equally possible at this point.
"I'm… fine…." She grumbled. "Five more minutes…."
"…need help… hypothermia…" a blonde haired man was moving her body to help her sit up.
Dana attempted to concentrate on what was being said, but her mind wasn't connecting the words to meanings. He kept trying to talk to her.
"…Barton…?"
"Dana…" she murmured. "Please… I'm fine… My dad… friends." She lifted a weak arm in the direction of her belongings. Her bow and quiver sat on top of the metal box.
Steve had an idea who the girl might be, but was careful with his questions just in case. He suddenly had a list of questions to ask, but he knew he wouldn't get any answers until she was cognizant. He cursed Tony's slow response to the emergency call and attempted to keep the girl conscious. She hadn't even shivered since he'd arrived.
He didn't have a lot of experience treating people exposed to prolonged cold, but he knew once they were unconscious, half the battle was lost. Dr. Banner had given him a run-through during one occasion where a villain froze half of New York, but aside from that, nothing. Thankfully he heard the nearing sound of a plane's engines.
"Hey, hey look at me," Steve made the girl's grey gaze lock onto his for an instant. "I'm going to help you up."
She grumbled a response and Steve lifted her from her sitting position with ease. After maneuvering out of the cave, he was able to flag down Tony in a small aircraft flying overhead.
"Who is this?" Tony questioned as Steve entered the craft and laid the girl down on a blanket.
"My guess? Clint's kid," Steve responded quickly as he bundled her tightly with additional blankets. "I need five more minutes, there were some things in the cave."
"You better hurry up we- wait what?" Steve was gone before Tony was able to press for more answers. The girl a soft groan and he knelt down next to her. It was clear she was suffering from some level of hypothermia.
He checked for any damp clothing and kept the aircraft as warm as possible. He pulled off her boots and frowned at her discolored toes. Warming them in warmed cloths he started working on her hands and head. She stirred slightly when he removed her hat.
"Hey," he muttered as the girl tried to get a sense of her surroundings and began to panic. "You're safe. You're safe."
"Please! Don't! Don't hurt him!" she shouted, too weak to follow-up the pleas with anything of a physical nature. Her eyes began to close as she murmured a final plea. "Please…"
Steve had returned with a bow and a bundle of arrows tucked under his arm. In his hand, he was sifting through a small mental container.
"Anything of use?" Tony questioned once the girl had calmed significantly.
"Just an old hunting knife and Clint's pager," Steve set everything down on a nearby bench. "Bow looks like Clint's handiwork though."
Steve had replaced Tony as the former closed the doors to the plane and went toward the pilot's seat.
"Am I the only one wondering how Barton managed to keep both himself and his kid secret for so long?" Tony questioned. "Assuming this is even his child."
"Beats me," Steve admitted placing a bundle of blankets under the girl's head. She seemed to be responding well to the warmth. He pressed the back of his hand against her forehead. Her body temperature seemed to be improving. He shook her shoulder and her eyes shot open again. "How are you feeling?"
"Cold," she muttered with a small shiver. Steve located another blanket and tossed it over her.
"Can you tell me your name?" she seemed to be more aware as she warmed. He needed to keep her awake until Banner saw her, and he figured getting answers would be a good start.
"Dana," she paused in thought. "Barton."
"Can you tell me who your parents are?"
"Clint Barton," she replied slowly. "I don't know… I don't know my mother… never did."
"What happened Dana?" Steve spoke in an even and calm voice. After decades of being an Avenger, he'd perfected speaking to those who'd experienced traumatic events.
"I was reading and…" her voice waivered. "…there was shooting and my dad… I'd never seen him… he just…. And they hurt him. I just kept running."
Steve nodded in silent understanding at the young woman's story.
"…Snakes or dragons," she suddenly broke the silence, her eyes watered as she blinked back tears. "Like an octopus? But scarier… They took him… or killed him…"
The description hit Steve like a pile of bricks.
Hydra.
