A/N: Sequel to Taking a Chance. It contains massive spoilers for Captain America: The Winter Soldier. If you haven't seen the movie, some of what happens may not make sense.

Many thanks to ladygris for her Beta work. I also received input from Lady Pandora. Thanks, my peeps.

Namaste,

~Sandy

Avengers

A Hole in the World
Chapter 4

In keeping with her assumed persona, Chris donned dark glasses and a big hat as cover for her "hangover" and made her way down to the lobby. "Excuse me, could you ring Mr. Walsh's room please."

The clerk didn't even consult the computer. "There is no Monsieur Walsh registered at this hotel, mademoiselle. It is my understanding that your friend has been staying in a cottage somewhere up the beach."

"My mistake." Chris hadn't realized that Barton wasn't actually staying in the hotel. "What about Ms. Girard? She was kind enough to make sure I got to my room after I passed out, and I'd like to thank her."

Smiling indulgently, the clerk shook his head. "Mademoiselle Girard checked out late yesterday afternoon. She left in the company of Monsieur Walsh." He looked left and right, lowering his voice. "They appeared to be quite friendly, and did not say where they were going."

"Oh." Her dejection wasn't contrived. How could her SO and his partner have left without cluing her in?

An envelope was pushed across the desk. "Monsieur Walsh did leave this note for you. Will there be anything else?"

"No, thank you." She waited until she reached the patio bar to open Barton's note. Most of it didn't make sense until her mind picked out a pattern. The note was in code, giving her the time and place where Barton, Romanoff, Director Fury-and presumably other agents-would next meet. The date was at least three weeks in the future so staying on Tahiti was justified for her cover.

Chris appeased her wounded pride by ogling the handsome, non-English speaking cabana boys while keeping in mind the golden rule: Never get personally involved with a mark. And while they weren't marks, per se, she had a feeling her SO would have something scathing to say if she strayed from the accepted path. So, she kept a careful eye, and nothing else, on the young men who catered to the hotel's clients until it was time to leave.

Though she kept a careful watch, she didn't see Fury again for the rest of her stay.

~~O~~

When the little girl saw Natasha, she ran toward her. "Tia Natasha!"

The Russian scooped her close and hugged her tight. "I've missed you so much, Alejandra. Have you been good for Mama and Papa?"

The girl nodded vigorously. "Da. Yasmina and Antonio are teaching me to ride a bike."

"That's wonderful, namorada." Natasha turned so the girl could see the others. "You remember Tia Maria and Tio Clint." Suddenly shy, Alejandra put a finger in her mouth and shrugged. It had been more than a year since she'd seen either of Natasha's friends, and at that age, they don't always remember. "I must speak to your mama and papa, but I promise to come and stay for a few days the next time I'm here, okay?"

The girl nodded again. Natasha put her down, and she ran back to her brother and sister. Clint came up beside Natasha, more subdued than usual. "You haven't told Banner, have you?"

"I will. Soon. We have to find him first."

Hill gave up a rare smile, an occurrence that usually meant trouble, though not necessarily the bad kind. "We will. Let's get inside. The sooner we get going, the sooner you'll be reunited with your plyushevyy mishka."

Not bothering to roll her eyes, Natasha followed Hill up the front steps with Clint behind them. They were met at the door by an exotically beautiful woman. Her smooth, flawless skin made it difficult to guess her exact age. She could've been anywhere from thirty to fifty, with a trim body and flat stomach, dark skin and wavy dark brown hair to the middle of her back. Her eyes were deep wells that more than a few men had gotten lost in, unable to find their way out again. However, for the last ten years, those eyes had been for only one man: her husband.

Behind her, Miguel stood straight and tall, as plain as Rayssa was beautiful. He too was trim in body with short dark hair that had strands of gray running through it, and when he looked at his wife, his flinty grayish-brown eyes softened. He appeared harmless though anyone who didn't know him would be a fool to think so.

Rayssa hugged the three agents. Miguel hugged the women, and shook hands with Clint.

"Please, come in and sit down," Rayssa told them. "I'll bring drinks for all of us."

Miguel did not sit. Natasha saw that he positioned himself between the agents and the kitchen, which also afforded him an excellent view of the front of yard so he could keep watch over the children. Anytime someone walked or drove past the house, Miguel stiffened slightly, watched until they'd cleared out then relaxed again.

The tinkle of ice cubes falling into glasses came moments ahead of Rayssa's return carrying a tray with five glasses and a pitcher of suco di caju, a juice made from the cashew fruit. Clint stood to help their hostess with the tray, and as she poured, he handed out the glasses, taking the last one for himself. He'd been a guest in the Henriques home many times, and they knew he would insist on helping so they didn't mind.

"Is anyone hungry? I could make misto quente," Rayssa offered.

After taking a sip of the slightly tart drink, Natasha set hers aside. "Thank you, but we've already eaten, and we're anxious to be on our way. Tell me, have you had word of Dr. Banner? Is he well?"

Miguel and Rayssa exchanged a glance, smiling as they did so, with Miguel answering. "I have been in contact with Ezo and Diogo. Dr. Banner is quite well, and frequently speaks of you, Natália."

Natasha didn't mind that her friends used the Brazilian pronunciation of her name. In fact, she rather liked it. But at the end of the day, she still favored the way her name sounded when Bruce whispered in her ear just before they fell asleep, elongating the middle syllable in a sigh. Na-taaash-a. In daily conversation he still called her Tasha or just Tash. She didn't care, as long as she could hear him speaking her name once more. "Good. Tell me, have you heard of the attacks in Washington?"

Miguel sat forward, elbows on his knees, shaking his head sadly. "That HYDRA had lain dormant within SHIELD for all this time is staggering. What will you do now?"

"The only thing we can do, Miguel. Rebuild, and take more care with those we recruit into the ranks."

The group talked for a while then Miguel led the trio of SHIELD agents out to the shed in the back. Hidden in the floor was a secret room filled with weapons and electronics of all types. In short, everything necessary to keep everyone safe. Hill, Clint and Natasha were given leave to take what they needed.

Natasha came upon a set of unusual weapons that she immediately latched onto, slipping them onto her wrists, not surprised when she found them a perfect fit. "Where did you find them, Miguel?"

The tall man smiled showing a mouthful of white teeth. "They were made by a friend. After I heard about the downfall of Project Insight, I knew you would be coming for your man soon, and I thought you would prefer a familiar weapon while you searched."

While not as streamlined as the ones she left in DC, these Widow's Bites were more than adequate to the job. "Thank you, Miguel. They're perfect."

On the other side of the room, having already chosen knives, Clint stood staring at the handguns, assault rifles and GPMGs, his expression downcast at not finding his own weapon-of-choice: a bow. Natasha pointed her chin at Clint and Miguel nodded. Their host went to Clint's side and the two men spoke briefly. Miguel led him over to a locked cabinet. Natasha and Hill shamelessly listened in on the conversation.

"Come, Clint. I have something special just for you, meu amigo." Miguel took a key from his pocket and used it to unlock the cabinet. "Rayssa and I knew that you would accompany Natália when she returned for Dr. Banner. My lovely wife suggested, and I agreed, that given the state of the world and the re-emergence of HYDRA, that you would prefer a familiar weapon."

From inside the cabinet, Miguel took a black case that superficially resembled the one Clint carried his bow and arrows in. And when he opened it, nestled in the protective foam cushion was a collapsible recurve bow very much like the one he had to leave in Russia. "Rayssa is one in a million. If she weren't already spoken for, I would marry her on the spot."

Hill paused in the loading of a Taurus DAO firearm to hear what Miguel would say. The women exchanged a glance, both thinking the same thing.

Miguel grinned and slapped Clint on the back, taking it as a compliment just as the archer intended. "Then it is a good thing that I saw her first, eh, my friend?"

~~O~~

Chuckling, Clint took the bow out, opening it with a snap of his wrist to examine the workmanship. "I was there the day you met. Until then, I never believed in love at first sight."

Shoving his hands into his pants pockets, Miguel shrugged his shoulders. "Who knew that a lowly Primeiro-tenente of the Exército Brasileiro could catch the eye of an agent of the Agência Brasileira de Inteligência?"

A brief flare of sadness whispered through Clint and he had to force his smile to stay in place. Lowering his voice, Clint said, "Do me and yourself a favor, Miguel. Don't ever take her for granted, and make sure to tell her and the kids you love them every day."

"That's an easy favor to grant as it's something I already do."

Nodding, Clint collapsed the recurve and placed it back in the case, taking the arrow tips out one at a time to examine each, nodding with satisfaction as he replaced them. He'd already chosen a GPMG, a general-purpose machine gun, a couple of 9mm and an assortment of knives to add to his arsenal. Now he was ready for anything.

The trio followed Miguel through yet another door. The moment he stepped over the threshold, Clint felt the change in temperature even before he saw the pallets of food stacked around the room. In the outer room, Clint had seen boxes and boxes of MREs, but in here he found perishables. Enough to feed an army, or a family of five for a couple of months. Clint wasn't sure if he really wanted to know why Natasha's friend had all this stuff. Not, he decided. He had enough to think about as it was. Right now, his top priority was getting his partner reunited with the man she loved. Nothing else mattered. Well, that and his probie. Fury could take care of himself. The note he left for Yates had given her coded instructions on where and when to meet. He figured twenty-one to thirty days would be plenty for them to find Banner even in the Amazon rainforest.

On first meeting Yates, he wanted nothing to do with her. It wasn't her per se, but probies in general. Whenever he was assigned to train one of the junior agents, Clint would do everything in his power to force them request a transfer. Without fail, as Yates had said, they were gone within a week. So why had he kept her around? He'd tried to scare her a few times. The first time by tying her up and stealing her pajama bottoms while he interrogated her. Then came the knife. Still no reaction. Even his mad flying skills didn't do the job. Nothing he'd done seemed to phase her until she saw Fury alive when he was thought to be dead. Of course, he hadn't tried spiders yet, but he'd save that for when there were less pressing issues. He just hoped she'd make it to the rendezvous point on time without any problems. In retrospective, he should've brought Yates with him to Sao Paulo so he could keep an eye on her. But this trip had a dual purpose. Clint and Natasha were supposed to put their relationship "ghosts" to rest. Something they couldn't do with Hill around. Didn't she have enough to do without tagging along?

Whatever.

That still didn't answer the original question, why had he let Yates stay? He wasn't attracted to her. Okay, so that was a lie. He was attracted to her. Very much so. But somehow, he felt as if by giving in to that attraction, he was cheating on Adele.

SHIELD policy didn't expressly forbid personal relationships between an SO and his or her trainee. It wasn't encouraged either. The question hadn't arisen with Adele because they'd only worked together when she was assigned as his co-pilot according to the rotation.

And just the fact that SHIELD had imploded with a few strokes of the keyboard meant that all their rules, regulations and policies were null and void. But it wouldn't last forever, and if he broke the rules now… Oh who the hell was he kidding? He'd broken at least three hard and fast rules every day since he joined SHIELD. Why should now be different?

Miguel broke into Clint's thoughts by dropping a box. From the look on his face, he'd done it on purpose. "Let me help. Where does it go?"

"Over there. You can take anything from here you wish, however, you've no way to keep it. And you must carry water at least until you've found Dr. Banner who will be near a body of drinkable water."

"We need to travel fast and light. We'll take two days' worth of MREs and the water. When it runs out, we'll eat and drink what we can find."

Clint helped Miguel move a couple of boxes then they returned to the armory. Hill and Natasha were gone, and Clint could hear their voices coming from the kitchen as if they were in the room with him. Looking up, he saw a video camera and speakers. Presumably, they were used to spy on anyone who entered the home without invitation. Or to spy on someone who may have information they wanted.

Miguel gave Clint a backpack that would hold food, clothing and anything else they needed for this trip, which, unfortunately would be on the backs of mules once they left the city. Not that mule pack was the only way to travel. But if they took a vehicle, they'd also have to take fuel. Mules could eat while they were walking. Mule pack it is.

Within two hours, Clint, Hill and Natasha were riding away from a small farm north of Sao Paulo. Six hours after that, the sun started going down, mostly hidden by the canopy of green leaves overhead. They made a patrol schedule with Clint taking the first two hours so the women could sleep. Nat would go next with Hill taking the third shift.

Once he knew they were asleep, Clint climbed a tree so he could see their surroundings in a sweeping three-sixty glance. He woke Nat around midnight then used her bedroll for himself.

Hill woke him around 0430 local time to take his second shift. However, when his two hours were up, he continued to let the women sleep so they'd be well rested. Neither of them would be happy, but he didn't care. Someone had to be in charge, and he appointed himself.

The sun finally filtered through the trees, lighting the area with an ethereal glow. Silently, they munched on MREs, Clint mourning the lack of coffee. They could've started a fire to make some, but none of them seemed motivated. And it would've alerted other that they were there.

Clint finished his breakfast and sat there rolling the wrapper around in his hands making it crinkle. "How're we gonna find Banner, Nat?"

With a cheeky grin, she held up a black box with an LED display on one side. It was no bigger than the palm of her hand. "Planted a tracking device on him."

"What if he lost it?"

She sat up straight, proud of herself, and she had every right to be. "He won't. It's hidden inside something I know he'll keep with him no matter what."

Holding the box in her left hand, she used her thumb to turn it on. It made no noise, for which Clint was thankful. If anyone else were in the forest, mercenarys, for instance, they wouldn't hear the beep.

Natasha stood, turning in a circle to get her bearings. She stopped facing North by Northeast. "That way."

Hill stood and stretched, not bothering to cover a yawn. "Then you're on point. I'll take our six."

Clint started to protest, but both women ignored him and went about the business of policing the campsite. The MRE packaging was biodegradable and Clint used his knife to dig a hole to bury them.

When done, Hill and Natasha mounted their mules and pointedly waited for him to do the same and take his place in the middle. Reconciled to not getting his way, Clint aimed his mule in between the others and they were off.

About an hour into the ride, Clint thought about the last time he'd seen Adele before her death. They'd gone to dinner and back to her place in Alexandria. She fell asleep while they were watching an On Demand movie that she'd wanted to see. He had to leave for New York in the morning meaning he couldn't stay the night as he still had to pack. Careful not to wake her, Clint had carried Adele into the bedroom and laid her on the bed. He removed her shoes and pulled the quilt over her. Leaving a note wasn't necessary as this had happened before. Now, Clint wished he'd taken the time to write a couple of lines, even if it was only "see you in a few days."

An unfamiliar dip in the pit of his stomach made him feel odd, and eventually he realized that what he was feeling was guilt about his interest in Yates, as if he were being disloyal to Adele. Clint and the SHIELD pilot had been in a monogamous relationship though neither of them had professed any sort of deep emotion to the other. Their exclusivity was more of a convenience as well as neither of them having the time or energy to cultivate romantic interactions with others.

So the next question was what should he do about it? If he made his interest known, what would Yates say? Clint knew she wasn't hooked up with anyone, they'd established that much in their time together. There wasn't much he could do about it at the moment anyway. Yates was in Hungary, or would be in a few days. They would then be more than sixty-four hundred miles apart on different continents in different hemispheres.

Why are you even thinking about it, Barton? Get your priorities straight! Find Banner then go to the meet. Anything else comes later.

~~O~~

There was little conversation during the ride. Not out loud at least. Hill watched Barton beating himself up and could give a good guess as to why or rather who he was doing it over. She had seen the way Barton and Wolfe looked at each other. Not that she had expected a wedding announcement any time soon, it at all. They were, however, headed in the general direction of at least cohabitating. And while Barton and Wolfe complimented each other, Hill was of the opinion that any long-term romantic alliance between them was doomed to failure because they were too much alike. In that respect, Yates was a much better fit. Barton knew it too or he would've asked to have her reassigned. The fact that he didn't said a lot. It was what Barton hadn't said that gave it away.

The conversation always started out the same.

Another probie, Hill? When has that ever worked out for anyone?

Now, whenever she asked, "How's it going with your new probie, Barton?" he would say, "Fine. Why?"

Holding in a sigh, Hill called out, "Hey, fearless leader. What say we make a pit stop?"

Both agents turned at the same time, Barton opening then closing his mouth and glancing over his shoulder at Romanoff, deferring to his partner.

"Twenty minutes. Don't wander off."

Dismounting, Hill held in a groan at the stiffness in her nether regions. Once she'd attended to the needs of her body, she massaged the sore areas, performed a few stretches and felt better for it. Returning to the mules, she pulled out a bottle of water and took a long drink. All they'd brought with them was the MREs and water for two days, weapons and one change of clothes each. Their plans were to reach Banner's location in the next twenty-four to thirty-six hours, let the lovers get it out of their systems then head for the rendezvous.

She returned the bottle to her saddle pack, propped her right leg on a low branch, leaning forward to stretch her hamstring and glute, groaning silently as the sore muscles protested. Switching, she did the same on the left. Standing up straight, she bent forward until she could grab her ankles, exhaling as she did so, inhaling on the way up.

Bending backward, she was halfway to a backbend when the crack of a branch brought her upright, the 9mm in her right hand. Holding her breath, she listened intently, but the sound wasn't repeated. Hill gave a moment's thought to calling out to Barton and Romanoff when they entered the small clearing from opposite sides. Relaxing, she returned the Taurus to its place of concealment. "What took you so long?"

Romanoff looked at her with that unblinking stare then turned away. "Let's get going."

She bolted into the saddle, waited for Barton and Romanoff to do the same then they were off again. Again, the ride was free of conversation, and that's just how Hill liked it.

~~O~~

It was past lunch time, and for the third day in a row, Bruce had been inundated by people from other villages coming to take advantage of his generosity. It gave him a good feeling when a young mother touched him on the hand and smiled after her child received a shot that would ensure he or she wouldn't come down with one of the childhood diseases that were prevalent in this part of the world.

Again, he thought about returning to pure medicine where he saw patients rather than the research he was doing now as a SHIELD scientist. The projects he'd done in conjunction with Stark Industries that had specific applications for SHIELD were stimulating, filling him with enthusiasm for his field that had been lacking in previous years. But now, being here and helping those in need, it gave him more satisfaction than sitting at a computer. Granted, he was still being guarded, but for a different reason. In the city, the bodyguard was a buffer between him and the public to prevent another hulk-out. Here, the guards were for his protection.

Mercenarys had been known to steal medical supplies which they would then sell on the black market, making an enormous profit. When there was resistance, people were injured and sometimes killed because they dared to stand up for themselves. Just such an event had happened the first time he'd gone on the run from Betty's father, General Thaddeus Ross.

Dalva entered the clinic, using a blanket to cover the opening. "Dr. Bruce, it is time for the mid-day meal. You should have something to eat and get some rest. I will have the remaining patients do the same."

"I'll take something to eat, but the nap will have to wait. Some of these people spent more than a day getting here. They've waited long enough."

The young woman dipped her chin, a small smile playing on her lips. "You yourself have said that one is more productive when rested. I will tell the patients to wait and you will rest for one hour after you've eaten."

Before Bruce could object, Dalva was gone again. He heard her send someone to bring him a plate of food then she told those waiting that they too should take time to eat and relax. Not one protested the announcement, and Bruce felt a little better about taking time for himself.

The cover over the entry twitched aside and the young girl from the other day stepped inside, a plate of food in one hand. She set it in front of him, dipped her chin once and was gone again.

Bruce ate everything he'd been given, wiped his hands and mouth and stood. A surge of fatigue made him yawn, and he was glad that Dalva had taken control because a nap sounded really good right now. Going to the pallet in the corner, he kicked off his shoes and stripped out of his shirt, leaving the tank shirt and pants on. He lay down and was asleep within moments.

Sometime later, he awakened without knowing what had caused it. Rolling to his feet, Bruce pulled the blanket aside just enough to see that Enzo, Diogo and one other were conferring in harsh whispers. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but to go by their expressions, it wasn't good. The men with Enzo nodded and rushed off.

Bruce went to relieve himself, and by the time he returned, so had his patients. With a smile of welcome, he ushered in a young mother with a boy about six. Dalva came in and helped him get a medical history for both. The girl studiously wrote everything down in a notebook. Bruce looked it over then took out the vials and syringes he needed. When the boy saw the needle, he immediately began to cry. Bruce spoke to him soothingly in his own language. "What's your name?"

"Tomas," he said with a tremble to his voice.

"Do you know what being brave is?" The boy shook his head. All while he talked, Bruce prepared the inoculations out of the boy's and his mother's sight. He cleansed the injection site and removed the needle cover. "Bravery is when you're the only one who knows you're scared. That doesn't mean you should never be afraid. Just don't let it rule your life. Use it. Before I came here, I was afraid of many things. Being alone, of traveling to a strange place, even learning a new language."

Tomas watched Bruce with wide eyes as he talked, and before long, it was all over. He cleansed the area again and gave the boy a grin. "See? All done. Be good for Mama, Tomas."

"Sim, Dr. Bruce."

The mother flashed Bruce a smile and led her son out the front door. The next couple of hours were much the same, just as it had been for the previous days. Calm mother and child, or even the men who had never received an injection, give the shot, and move on to the next one. And unlike previous days, Enzo or one of his people stayed nearby, listening and watching as if they expected trouble. He asked, but no one would say. Just remind him not to leave the village without an escort.

Bruce was about to take a short break when the sound of jeep engines roared through the forest, disturbing animals and people alike. Rushing outside, Bruce looked around, and on the other side of the village, an ancient jeep covered in mud drove through the village, the driver swerving and glancing over his shoulder as the man in the back fired at something behind him.

The people scattered, running into the huts, screaming in fear. The driver slammed on the brakes and the jeep jerked to a stop, both men falling out of the vehicle, frantically looking for refuge, but from what, Bruce couldn't tell. If men like these mercenarys were afraid, shouldn't Bruce be afraid too?

But Bruce wasn't afraid. He was angry, and he quickly employed meditation to keep the Other Guy under control. In all the time he'd been traveling through the Amazon, there hadn't been a need for the Other Guy to make an appearance. If necessary, Bruce would bring him out, but he didn't want to do that if the situation could be resolved by other means.

Another jeep rumbled into the center of the village, skidding to a stop behind the first one. These two stood their ground against an unseen foe. The man hefted a GPMG, aiming at a mother cowering with her child behind a tree, ordering them to come out. The mother refused so the man ran to her, wrenching the little girl from her hands in spite of her cries and pleading, using the child as a shield.

Oh, yeah. Time to let the Other Guy teach them a lesson.

Closing his eyes, Bruce clenched his fists, breathed deeply, and summoned the power of the Hulk.

TBC

A/N:

Primeiro-tenente: First Lieutenant

Exército Brasileiro: Brazilian Army

Agência Brasileira de Inteligência, ABIN: Brazilian Intelligence Agency

Misto quente - Grilled ham and cheese sandwich, a popular breakfast food in Brazil