A/N: It's updating time! (BEAMS) BUT, before continuing with this heartbreaking tale…

THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for all your reviews, listings and love! I've been dreaming of typing this fic for ages, to be honest, and it means A LOT that you're all taking this journey with me. (HUGS)

Awkay, because I'm getting sentimental with old age… Let's finally go! I really hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

Just to warn you, the 'hurt' part isn't quite over yet…!

Ghosts Come Marching In

Lila had no idea how much time passed by. Eventually she'd been calling out to her dad – in turns whispering, whimpering and shouting – until her voice was hoarse. Nothing helped, nothing brought him back to her.

Her desperate hold on his shoulder tightened as she eventually lay down and curled up behind him. She was aiming to shield him but the position was closer to seeking shelter. By then she'd ran out of tears. She was too young to understand that she might've been too much in a shock to cry.

More time passed by until all of a sudden she realized that they were no longer alone. Steps echoed from a distance, approaching. There were also shouts. If Lila had been a little less scared one of the voices might've struck her as familiar.

She shook her dad's shoulder anxiously. "Daddy!" she half yelped, half whispered. "Daddy, please…! Wake up! They're coming back!" It all came out in a rush, most likely incomprehensible. He didn't even twitch. She choked back a sob, hunching closer to him. "Daddy, wake up!"

Then it was too late. Because the steps were already there. And then a ghost entered the shadowy room.

Lila screamed.

Phil's team entered the building swiftly but quietly. They dared to relax only marginally upon discovering that there wasn't a trace left of Olga Cherkov or her men. They were all much too aware of the security cameras recording their progress. But those were all that'd been left to greet them. It was worrying that there weren't even traps.

It was like she already got what she wanted.

They called clear on a massive hallway that looked like the set of a horror movie, then entered a long ago abandoned factory hall. They tensed up upon discovering the outlines of two people. Very soon it became clear that they weren't facing a threat.

In the dim light Phil saw a chilling pool of blood in front of the man he quickly recognized as Clint. Despite the dark he could see that the archer was far too pale, nearly lifeless. From the distance it was impossible to tell if the Hawk was even breathing.

And like that wasn't bad enough Phil's gaze shifted enough to distinguish Lila. They stared at each other, their eyes shining in the shadows. Then she began to scream.

"You're not real! You're not real!" the little girl shouted hysterically. "Go away!"

Phil's heart sunk as he remembered that as far as Lila knew, he was a dead man. He took a cautious step closer. "Lila…"

Lila's yelp froze and silenced him, bit like a bullet.

A new set of approaching steps snatched Phil back from the brink of losing control over himself. He turned, hand reaching out towards a firearm, to see someone speed past. Something red.

Lila saw, too. The child's wide, tear filled eyes looked at the arrival pleadingly. "Aunt Tasha, daddy…!" The girl trailed off, unable to voice it.

"I know, I know." Natasha's tone was atypically soft. Only a careful ear, such that knew her well, caught the worry and fear hiding underneath. The former assassin was carefully avoiding looking at Phil, obviously having decided that at the moment Clint and his little girl were more important. "We'll get him help, okay? You've been really brave but we'll take over now."

It definitely looked like Lila wanted to be held. But she also didn't seem to be quite ready to step away from her dad. She swallowed hard. "He won't wake up", the child whispered, her voice hoarse and heartbreakingly young.

The arrival of the medical team startled all three of them. Mainly because Phil had been too preoccupied to notice that Maria Hill had called it in. They swarmed around Clint, in far too much hurry to give Lila the slightest chance to get used to the thought. They tried to inspect the child as well but a shriek of anger and terror showed that a stranger laying a hand on her at the moment was a very bad idea.

Only the slightest change on Natasha's face betrayed her true feelings as she pulled Lila to her arms, murmuring something inaudible to the child's ear. The overwhelmed little girl clung to the woman incredibly tightly, face buried to the comfortingly familiar shoulder. Even Phil could see that Lila was trembling miserably. He was dimly aware of the fact that he was shaking, too.

Phil swallowed thickly, unable to get rid of the lump sitting in his throat. He was barely able to restrain himself from grabbing the Widow's wrist when the woman walked past, the glare on her face daring anyone to try and grab the child from her. "Natasha…"

The woman, however, shook her head sharply. A glare intensified the impact. "Not now." With that she was gone, fighting visibly to not look over her shoulder towards her fallen partner.

By then the rest of Phil's team was looking for Cherkov. He knew that he should've been, too, should've done something useful. But as it was he couldn't budge, wasn't able to even glance away from Clint.

The medical team was clearly fighting a small war to keep the archer alive. Clint was barely breathing and the amount of blood the man had lost was sickening. And no matter how little Phil liked to even think about such an option it was hard to believe that anyone would survive an injury like that.

The world spun uncomfortably as Phil stood there all alone, a ton's weight of guilt sitting on his shoulders, and wondered if he'd ever get the chance to make things right.

From a secure location Olga Cherkov witnessed Phil's pain with sharp eyes. Gladly accepting what was necessary. She clutched her hand around a medallion that contained a picture of her son. The other hand switched off the video feed while the medical team still worked on Clint.

"He may still survive", the man stood beside her pointed out.

She shrugged calmly. "Unlikely", she pointed out. And even if the archer did pull through somehow she'd seen what she'd been looking for.

This day would never, ever stop haunting Phil Coulson. There would always be a tiny spot in the man's heart that'd remain eternally scarred. His agony wouldn't bring back her son but if she'd managed to give him even a taste of what she went through…

She stretched like a cat. Then began to make her way towards the door. "Let's go."

"Where to?"

She shrugged. "We'll see. The world is full of possibilities for someone almost everyone imagines dead."

As soon as Lila woke up she smelled a hospital. And her dad's blood, even if she realized that the latter stench only belonged to her memory. She bit her lip to restrain a whimper, curling up tightly in a desperate attempt to shield herself from the ache. Trying to will herself away from the time and place at hand.

The last thing she remembered was being given some medication. The word 'shock' had been mentioned. Then she fell asleep.

She wished she could wake up from this.

"Lila?" Cooper sounded tired. She heard someone shift beside the bed. "You awake?"

She nodded feebly, opening her eyes. They stared at each other, far too serious for children so young. "Where's daddy?" She wanted to see him. Wanted to make sure…

Cooper swallowed. "They're fixing him up. Mom's outside, talking to a doctor." He tried to say more but couldn't, and that was when she realized that he was scared. It made the whole situation even worse.

Lila sobbed dryly, her eyes stinging although tears didn't spill anymore. She sat up very slowly, shaken to her core. "He… He wouldn't wake up, Coop. What if… What if he never wakes up again this time?"

Cooper couldn't seem to find the words. The boy crawled to the bed and pulled her to a hug, to which she responded feverishly eagerly. It was impossible to tell which child needed the contact more. Neither had dry eyes.

The search for Olga Cherkov was futile. It didn't surprise Phil. Which didn't mean that it wouldn't have hurt like hell. The fact that he couldn't even bring Clint justice was a bitter insult to injury.

Olga Cherkov was a KGB-relic, the last remnant of a project even more nauseating than Red Room. And a big reason why a lot of people wanted Clint's head on a silver platter when the man headed for a mission to kill and brought home Natasha. It was a public secret that S.H.I.E.L.D once imagined Cherkov to be the ally they'd desperately needed. She worked with them and gave valuable information for as long as she needed them. Then she betrayed them and ran, slaughtering six agents as her version of a farewell gift. All traces hinting who chose to hire her were swiftly erased. A selected few knew that it was a man named Alexander Pierce. Now, with the knowledge of Pierce's true loyalties, Phil wondered just what sort of a deal the man made with Cherkov.

Cherkov was a ridiculously smart, chillingly cruel creature. A real life Frankenstein's monster even those who made her what she was had disowned and feared until she killed every single one of them. She was a survivor, loyal to no one but herself now.

Phil didn't know how someone like her ended up with a son but the little boy was the only thing which made her human. Now… Now it was anyone's guess what she might do. And they had no idea how to find her.

Phil sighed heavily as he stared at the thick file in his arms.

The report of injuries Cherkov received upon her alleged death was a gruesome read. She received heavy bruising, a couple of broken bones and five stab wounds. Stomach, chest, side, leg, and finally arm. The laceration to arm was, without a doubt, what tore off the tracking chip that'd been implanted to her once upon a time. A tracking chip Phil had foolishly imagined she'd had no idea of. Clearly she'd arranged the attack – which led to the deaths of all four assailants – and paid for her freedom with blood and scars.

"So this is where you're hiding." Melinda May's familiar voice made him shiver with startle. She gave him a look that said and saw too much.

Phil shrugged. All of a sudden he felt incredibly tired. "This is a hospital's waiting room", he pointed out. "I'm not exactly hiding."

Melinda didn't comment. Instead she took a seat beside him, close but not invading his private space. "Any news yet?"

Phil shook his head. Without noticing it he cast a longing look towards the door. "They're still operating on him." At least Clint was fighting. There was still hope.

They sat in a silence, both deep in thought. The mental image of Clint and Lila wouldn't stop haunting Phil for even a second. He didn't think he'd stop blaming himself for this one for as long as he'd live.

"You do realize that there's no point in blaming yourself on things you had no control over, right?"

Phil gave his friend a tiny, bitter smile. Unable to find a shred of comfort. "Does telling yourself that ever really work?"

Melinda didn't answer and he was glad, because he didn't think he would've been able to handle honesty.

Phil had no idea how long passed by – his eyes locked on the file like it would've been able to soothe his aching heart, and Melinda offering her silent support – until steps entered the room. He looked up quickly, hoping to find a doctor. Instead he faced Natasha. His lips opened and her eyes narrowed instantly. "I already said later", she hissed. Then took a breath. "A doctor just showed up. I figured that you might want to be there."

Phil knew that he had no right to wish for that. Or to accept the offer. But he just couldn't help himself. He nodded speechlessly, then got up despite being unsure whether his legs would support his weight and followed her.

The journey seemed to take ages and the silence between them was suffocating. Eventually Phil just had to break it. "How did you know to come, anyway?"

"Laura called me." Natasha's mouth was tight, which was the only thing indicating just how upset she was. Under different circumstances, once upon a time before the disaster that was Loki, he might've risked trying to comfort her. She refused to look at him. "Her husband and daughter had gone missing, and she didn't know what else to do. I got there only minutes after your team."

"How did you find him?"

"You have your ways. I have mine. You sleep better at night if you don't know mine."

"I don't really sleep at night anymore."

"You imagine any of us does?"

Her subtle indication that there still was an us, that they were a team, made Phil feel the first hint of warmth since the message and the bloodied bow. It lasted the grand total of ten seconds. Until they reached their destination.

Laura Barton was talking to a doctor with a sleeping baby in her arms, both adults turned so that Phil couldn't see their faces. She nodded once, twice, tensing up further with each passing moment. Once the doctor left, after squeezing Laura's shoulder comfortingly, the woman remained frozen still for torturously long. Then, slowly, slowly, turned and their eyes met.

The look on Laura's face made Phil feel like he'd been stabbed all over again, and it became as hard to breathe as it was right before he died.

/ "Hawkeye, do you trust me?"

Clint nodded. Even with a gun pressed against his head. Then spoke in English, knowing full well that their company didn't understand it. "With my life." And they both knew that the younger man definitely didn't gift his trust lightly.

Seconds later a gunshot echoed, sealing the pledge. /

TBC

A/N: DANG, that was sad…! Poor… EVERYONE, basically! Especially little Lila. Let's hope that Clint finally wakes up, because both his little girl and Phil need him to!

Soooo… Any good, at all? Garbage material? PLEASE, do leave a note to let me know! Hearing from you makes me purr from joy.

GAH, it's LATE! (winces) Until next time, ya all! I really hope that I'll see ya there.

Take care!

Anonymous: It is indeed! (gulps) I REALLY hope that you'll keep enjoying the ride.

Colossal thank yous for the review! Until next time.