A longer chapter, as promised! Let's meet Lucky now!

Clint was feeling even more trapped than he did last night. He figured playing chess with a master strategist like Steve could provide an effective distraction. Well he was now quickly losing for the fourth time in a row and it was more frustrating than anything.

Scott sat next to him at the table, eating pizza from the box. "I thought you'd be better at this."

Clint ignored him, choosing to concentrate on his strategy. Finding a move that seemed promising, he picked up his knight and set it on the new square.

Steve cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. "Do you want to redo that?

Clint shook his head. "I'm good."

"Because you should really-"

"There are no do-overs in chess."

Steve shrugged before moving his bishop. "Checkmate."

Sure enough, Clint's king was trapped by three of Steve's pieces. Sam laughed from his position in front of the sink. He paused washing the dishes to take a peek at the board. Scott himself was grinning like a madman. The only person not paying attention was Wanda, who was curled up on the couch reading Die Flügel der Liebe.

Clint decided that this wasn't working. He had to leave the lodge. Given the time of day, it would be more risky to be out than when Sam and Steve go for their morning jog, but perhaps spending less time out than them would make up for that.

He stood. "When you guys jog, where do you go?"

Steve answered, "We take the trail through the forest to the lake and run around it a few times."

"I think I'll go there for a quick walk."

"You sure?" asked Sam.

"If I'm trapped in here any longer, I just might turn myself in." He grabbed a slice of pizza before heading toward the door. "I'll see you guys in half an hour."

"I'd try for less than that," said Steve.

He nodded as he shut the door behind him.

The dirt trail was a lot easier to navigate than when they had first arrived at the forest. It took little time for Clint to reach the lake. He credited that to the fact he had to navigate the trail in the middle of the night before.

The dark and being rushed to the lodge had prevented Clint from truly observing the lake when Fury's aircraft dropped them off here. It looked cleaner than most that he had seen in his lifetime. He could see the bottom of the lake without any difficulty. Sometimes he'd see a frog jumping into the water or hopping around the bed. Other than that, Clint didn't think it'd be something people would look twice at.

He decided to walk the perimeter of the clearing, staying by the trees in case he needed to hide. Being out in the open didn't seem like an intelligent option.

As he walked and ate his pizza, he immersed himself in the newfound feeling of freedom. He always knew that he missed being able to go wherever he wanted, but he hadn't counted on it feeling so wonderful when he would finally leave the safe house. It felt like he had been on a leash for so long and that it had finally been removed. He could only imagine how it would feel when he was no longer on the run.

That fantastic feeling of freedom was dampened by the realization that he wasn't free at all. He couldn't just go to the nearest restaurant and order a bite to eat. He couldn't go to a library and search the shelves for something to read. Even at that moment, police or spies could be hiding among the trees, waiting for Clint or one of the others to slip up.

Clint groaned in annoyance. What he'd hadn't expected was something to make a noise in response. It caused him to freeze and he nearly ducked into the forest, but he managed to gather his wits and realize the noise he heard was a whine.

Following the direction of the noise, he looked toward some shrubs at the edge of the treeline. Through the green and brown of the leaves and branches of the bush, he saw hints of yellow. Cautiously, he moved toward it. There was a rustling of leaves as the thing moved, but it otherwise didn't try to run.

When Clint was in front of the shrubs and only a few feet away, he crouched down. Inside was a frightened yellow lab. There were a multitude of scratches and bite marks on his back, head, chest, and front legs. Its slightly muddied fur was more than likely hiding bruises and maybe even more scratches. The shrubbery was concealing most of his back half, but Clint could tell by the couple of ribs he saw that this dog was underweight.

"Hey there, little guy," Clint said gently, "What are you doing out here?"

The dog was absolutely still save for his sniffing nose and eyes that kept darting between Clint's face and his hand. He realized the hand that he kept looking at was the one holding the half-eaten pizza.

"You hungry?" he asked as he held out the food.

The dog crawled forward an inch, sniffing at the pizza that was offered to him. He hesitantly opened his mouth before snatching it and scarfing it down.

"Good boy." Clint held out his other hand to comfort the poor thing, but the lab moved backwards, shielding himself with the bushes.

Clint sighed. This dog wouldn't be able to fend for himself out here. Leaving him would be signing his death certificate, but the shrubs make it impossible to get to him. And even if Clint could somehow grab him, this dog didn't trust him to be taken back to the safe house. If he put up a fight, he'll injure himself further. The safest option would be for him to come out on his own.

"I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere," Clint told him before running back to the trail.

Clint entered the safe house. Wanda was still reading her book on the couch while the guys were talking at the table. Scott, thank God, hadn't finished the pizza.

"You're back early," Steve observed.

He didn't answer as he lifted the coffee table slightly off the ground. It took some effort, but he managed to move it behind the couch. The action caught everyone's attention. Wanda even looked up from her book.

He said, "Sorry Wanda, but I'm gonna need you to get off the couch."

She looked at him in bewilderment, but got up and moved to the table anyway. As soon as she was up, Clint removed all of the cushions and set them in front of the sofa as a makeshift mattress.

"What the hell are you doing?" asked Sam. Clint simply ran upstairs.

Scott snickered. "Maybe he's building a nest." When there was no response, he continued, "Because his name. It... it has hawk... I'll shut up now."

Clint returned with all of the extra pillows and blankets from the linen closet. He set them all on the cushion in a way that it would provide as much comfort and support as possible. Satisfied, he turned his attention to the pizza box.

There weren't many slices left. It would probably be all the dog could handle considering how underweight he might be. Clint just hoped it was enough to make it from the lake and to the lodge.

"I need to borrow this." He grabbed the box. "Everybody stay away from the couch."

Before anyone could ask questions, he left.

Clint made it back to the lake, pizza box in hand. Being sure not to go so fast that he would startle the lab, he went to the spot he found him.

He was still there. From what Clint could tell, he hadn't budged. Not surprising. His injuries probably made moving painful. Clint just hoped his instinct to eat would override the discomfort keeping him in place.

"Told you I'd be back." He opened the box and tore off a tiny piece. "I've got more pizza for you."

He set the piece down next to him before backing up a foot and repeating the action. The dog looked very tempted by the first piece, but he kept looking at Clint with apparent unease. Reading his mind, Clint went back even farther. Again, he tore off a bit before looking back. The lab had already crawled out of the bushes, eaten the first piece, and was limping toward the second.

The damage on the rest of his body wasn't nearly as bad. There were only a few more scratches on his back. Whatever hurt him attacked from the front. It was odd, considering predators use the element of surprise. From what Clint knew, not many animals pull an ambush from the front and doing so wasn't ideal. Sure the neck is where the killing bite happens, but the underbelly and flanks would be targeted too. Perhaps he was overthinking things.

Whatever happened, his stomach looked big enough to handle the rest of the pizza and he seemed capable to walk longer than a couple of feet for food. That means there can be more space between bits of pizza. In turn, that means it'll be more likely to reach the safe house. Hopefully, he had the strength to limp all the way there. If not, Clint would just have to carry him and hope he didn't put up a fight.

He continued his ritual to the trail and began the trek down.

He made it his goal to stay far away enough for the dog to be comfortable but also keep him in his sights. It was more tiring than he expected, but he finally made it to the safe house.

When Clint reached the door, the lab was nearing the end of the dirt trail and was seemingly almost out of strength. Without turning his back to him, Clint opened the door. Luckily it wasn't one of those doors that automatically swung closed. It'd be much harder to get him inside if someone was standing at the door to hold it open.

His friends were all watching him continue his trail of pizza from the table. Scott wasn't amused by what he was seeing. "My pizza!"

Clint shushed him as he set the last piece on the little bed he made. At first he set it in the middle, but moved it a little farther along to make sure the dog would have to get on the bed to get to it. Clint could see that the dog made it out of the trees, but his legs were visibly wobbling. Clint got behind the couch in an effort to put something between the lab and himself.

"Clint?" said Steve.

Clint merely held his hand out to them. "Stay where you are."

The dog was making good progress despite seemingly being on the verge of collapse. He was no longer paying attention to Clint. All he seemed to care about was getting to the next bite of pizza. Maybe Clint was forgotten due to all of his energy focused on moving forward.

The lab poked his head through the doorway, sniffing his new surroundings before deciding it was safe and stepping inside. Now in view, everyone was unsurprisingly shocked. Steve slowly stood while Wanda put a hand over her mouth and Sam's mouth formed a silent 'oh.' Scott looked like he wasn't sure what to do. They seemed to understand the need to be quiet because nobody made a sound. They just stared as the dog limped into the lodge.

Steve whispered, "Wanda, shut the door."

It took a moment for her to react, but she held out her hands and the door creaked shut, red light surrounding it. The dog didn't seem to notice that he was trapped as he struggled to get onto the cushions and chewed the last piece. His legs continued to shake as he looked around for any more food. Next thing everyone knew, he flopped onto his side.

Steve walked to the stairs. "Somebody get him some water," he said before going up.

Clint immediately left his spot from behind the couch and searched for a bowl in the cabinets. He found a large glass one that he proceeded to fill with water.

Scott asked, "What happened to Pizza Dog over there?"

"Beats me." Clint carried the bowl over to 'Pizza Dog' and set it down. The dog only moved his head so that his tongue could reach the bowl. Clint scratched him behind the ear, pleasantly surprised when he didn't flinch away. He could feel that his fur was covered in several days worth of dirt.

Steve returned with a soaked washcloth. "We have to make sure none of the wounds get infected." He knelt next to Pizza Dog and started washing the scratches on his back.

The dog flinched-from pain most likely-so Clint started talking to him. "It's okay. Compared to whatever you've gone through to get these injuries in the first place, this is nothing."

"He can't understand you," said Scott.

Sam kicked Scott under the table. "It's the tone that matters."

Wanda shushed them before asking, ""How did you know he doesn't have rabies or something else? He could have bit you."

Clint shrugged. "He likes pizza. How bad can he be?"

"None of these wounds look life threatening," said Steve, "And if he had any internal bleeding, he'd be dead by now."

"How do you know?" asked Wanda.

"My mother was a nurse and I used to get into a lot of fights." Steve continued, "Nevertheless, he needs to get to a vet as soon as possible. He'll need shots and probably other kinds of medical attention."

"And how exactly are we supposed to do that?" said Sam.

Clint answered, "Nat and Fury are supposed to be back tomorrow. They can take him somewhere. Until then, he stays right here."

"He took my bed, so..."

He had forgotten Sam slept on the couch when he made Pizza Dog's bed. Clint had been too focused on the dog at the time.

Scott's eyes were trained on the cushion-less couch. "That does not look comfortable."

Clint had to agree. The outline of the springs were visible under the material usually covered by the cushions and a person lying down on it would have their head bent froward at an uncomfortable angle or have their neck resting uncomfortably on the arm. Clint's back and neck ached just looking at it. No one would get much sleep on that thing. However, Pizza Dog needed those cushions.

"Take my bed," said Clint, "I'll stay down here with him tonight."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "You sure?"

"He's the most familiar with me and someone needs to make sure nothing happens during the night. I want to stay with him."

"If you're su-"

"I am," Clint interrupted.

The smell of wet dog was becoming more prominent as Steve found more scratches and bitemarks to clean. Pizza Dog stared at the bowl of water, but didn't make a move to lap up more. Clint wondered if the hike tired him out too much. He had to want to wash his food down.

He definitely needed a vet or some sort of professional help. Clint just hoped that nothing would be keeping Nat and that she would be here to rush him to an animal hospital.

For those of you who don't know, Lucky's nickname in the comics was Pizza Dog. That's where that comes from.

I would really appreciate if you shared your thoughts with me! I love hearing all of your opinions!