I was so happy to be home. My little apartment was perfect. Everything was in order. Everything had its place. It was clean, tidy, neat, and orderly. I loved it. Clint had met me and Scott at the airport. Scott still wasn't speaking to me. He went back to the mansion to tell Professor X everything that had happened. Clint took me home to my perfect apartment.

He didn't ask me how my trip was. He didn't ask if I was ok. He didn't ask why I was a little green around the edges. Clint was perfect like that. He didn't pry. He waited for me to tell him things; he knew I'd tell him everything eventually.

He sat down beside me on my little leather couch, and handed me a beer he'd gotten out of the fridge. Knowing I was underage, he always bought me a little alcohol to have stocked. He was perfect, did I mention that?

"Scott's pissed." I said.

"So I noticed." He replied.

We sat in silence for a few moments. I sipped at the beer and grimaced. I hated beer, it tasted disgusting, but I needed something with a little alcohol content. I didn't want to get drunk; not fast, anyway.

"I still hate flying." I said, finally. I turned, and laid down in his lap. He smiled, and stroked at me hair absent-mindedly.

"You're such a pansy."

"Am not!" I stuck out my bottom lip and pouted.

"Now, stop that. That's not fair." He chuckled and booped my nose with his finger.

"Hmph." I smiled and took another sip. He laughed, and took the bottle from me.

"Would you like something else? Something sweet?"

"I like sweet."

He pushed me up, and went back to the fridge. I kicked off my shoes and walked to the kitchen.

"Anything interesting happen while I was gone?" I plopped down in a chair at the table, rubbing my temple.

"Not really. Tony's got his new battle simulator up and running. He likes turning up to killer mode whenever I go in. The guy wants me dead, I swear." He laughed, pouring some blue coconut Boone's Farm in two glasses.

"Of course, I think we all do." I stuck out my tongue, and sipped at the Boone's Farm. It tasted delicious; coconut was my favorite.

"Lies. If I were dead, who'd buy you booze?"

"Deadpool would do it." I smiled at him.

"Oh, sure, replace me with Deadpool. I see where I rank in the grand scheme of things." He pouted and chugged down his glass.

"Thirsty?" I asked, smiling.

"Nah, I just feel the need to drink around you."

"How else could you deal with my ugly mug?" I laughed, pouring him another glass.

"It is a puke-worthy visage."

"Thank you, for murdering the English language."

"I could murder a few others, but I'm not quite as bilingual as you are, Ms…..bilingual!"

"Good come back."

"I thought so."

"I need to go to the store tomorrow."

"All out of black lipstick?"

"Yes, but that's not the reason. I need to get some more shampoo. The Russian climate was hell on my hair."

"That is the girliest thing I've ever heard you say."

"Let's hope it stays that way. I don't like being stereotypically girly."

"At least I'll never be able to gouge out my eyes with your brooches." He shrugged.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Have you never read Oedipus, the King?" He raised an eyebrow.

"You are sick and twisted."

"You like it that way."

"That is beside the point." I laughed, finishing off my glass of wine.

"Ah, she smiles, at last." He took away my glass and handed me a Dr. Pepper. I raised an eyebrow.

"Beer, wine, and Dr. Pepper. What are you plotting?"

"Not me, specifically." He said slowly. I scowled.

"What's going on?" I demanded. He sighed.

"Stark wants me to bring you in."

"I'm not doing it." I growled, getting up for the table and dragging my suitcases into my bedroom.

"Dena, we need your help." He sounded utterly defeated, and yet he kept trying. Brownie points for him, but I still didn't wanna do it.

"Clint, I do not give a flying shit about the Avengers." I plopped open the suitcases on my bed and started sorting my clothes into two piles, dirty and clean.

"Your sister did."

"Low blow." I growled, staring at him. "Get out."

"Dena, please."

"Get out, Hawkeye, before I hurt you." I clenched my fists by my side. "Now."

He left, not saying another word. I dropped to the ground and cried.

So, I guess I should fill you in on some of the stuff that's gone down since my sister, God rest her soul, died all those years ago.

I immediately signed up with Fury, wanting to do what my sister believed in. He sent me to France, of all places, to get some basic training in espionage and to learn the ropes. The plan was to let me join the Avengers full-time once I was fully trained.

I was damn good at any job they gave me. Spying, tracking, fighting, killing, interrogating; these were a few of my favorite things. I had a team that trusted me, and I trusted them. We worked well together, especially since I was fluent in French. After about a month, I wasn't the stupid American girl, I was another French girl.

It all went shit storm when I found out they were all lying to me. I thought I was being trained to fight with the Avengers; I wasn't. I was being made a SHIELD lackey. No one had told me that Tony Stark had made sure that the Avengers were separate from SHIELD. SHIELD made it possible for the Avengers to get away with certain things, but they didn't answer to them. I had been used.

I flew home immediately. I lived in the mansion for a few months, working odd jobs at Hell House that weren't…totally immoral, if such a thing existed, then got my own apartment. Fury was quick to try and black mail me back, but I didn't give in. I didn't give a shit what people thought of me or of what I did. I was done trusting people. I was done with SHIELD.

So, now you know part of the reason I'm so fucked up. I was betrayed. Does that excuse everything I do? No. I'm not looking to be excused. I am not a good person, I know that. I don't pretend to be anything else. I'm not looking for approval or a shoulder to cry on. Just thought you'd wanna know, for your own peace of mind and understanding.

My phone rang, breaking me from my angry musings. I looked at the caller ID. Just a number, no name. I answered it hesitantly.

"Speak." I said.

"Dena, this is Steve Rogers." His voice was short, to the point.

"Goodbbye." I hung up. The phone rang again ten seconds later. I answered again. "I do not want to talk to you, Rogers."

"Dena, we have a problem. We need you."

"I do not care. You've done just fine without me so far."

"We have a huge problem."

"That's too bad."

"Kid, get down here." Logan's voice surprised me.

"What are you doing there, Dad?"

"Get here, now." He hung up. I stared at the phone, then rolled my eyes. When was I going to learn to say no to him?

I sat awkwardly on the couch in the Avenger's tower, hating the staring eyes. They were all just looking at me. I scowled.

"Nice clothes." Natasha sneered.

"I got them from ya mother." I snarled right back. I was wearing a black cotton corset with white piping and a black spider webs designed skirt that went to mid-thigh, and stiletto black booties. I had on black eyeliner and eyeshadow that made my blues eyes sparkle in m anger. I liked the shock factor.

"Dena, we have a problem." Steve sighed.

"My ownly problem is that you're all staring at me like Nessie." I rolled my eyes.

"Not staring, watching. We don't trust you." Natasha scoffed.

"The feeling's mutual, I assure you."

"You're a smart ass, just like your sister." She spat.

"Natasha…"Steve said warningly.

"That is the greatest compliment anyone has ever given me." I smiled sweetly, making her scowl.

"Enough, you two." Stark laughed as he came down the stairs. "We have bigger fish to fry."

'At last, someone is going to tell me what's going on." I rolled my eyes.

"Well, she's a bundle of fireworks, isn't she?" Another man laughed. I looked up. Several men wee following Stark down the stairs, all confused-looking.

"Recruiting, Strak?" I asked.

"Not quite." The man said. I looked at him, confused. He looked really familiar. My eyes went wide.

"Tony, do you have a brother?"

"No, Dena, but close, and, given the current understanding of science, the best guess."

"'What are you talking about?" I rubbed my temple in frustration.

"I am Tony's father." The man said.

"Liar. Howard Stark is dead."

"Oh, she's a smart one."

"You have no idea." Tony smiled at me.

"Stark, I'm not in the mood for games."

"The kid's a little pistol." Logan stood beside the man who claimed to be Howard, staring at me as if he'd never met me before.

"Dad, what's going on?"

"I ain't ya dad, kid." He scoffed.

"No, I am." Logan appeared behind me. I di a double take. One Logan beside me, one Logan beside Howard. Two Logans.

"Cloning?" I asked, looking to Tony.

"Another good guess." He beamed at me.

"But, still not right." I finished.

"No, not right."

"Are we going to play the guessing game all day, or are you going to explain this to me?" I took a good look at all the men on the staircase. "Two Logans, two Rogers, Howard Stark…." I took a deep breath. "Are you going to tell me we have time travelers?"

"See? I told you she was smart." Tony laughed.

"I like her." Howard winked at me. I scowled.

"Ok, start from the begging." I shifted, making myself comfortable on the couch, waiting to hear the story.