Echoes

by theicemenace

Hard living rock star Jimmy Blue is being stalked by Delany O'Brien. Or is he? Something about her is familiar, but he can't put a finger on it. She tells him they're living the wrong lives and wants him to help her figure it all out. Warning: Rated a high T for drug and alcohol abuse, and intimate situations.

4. Chapter 4

A/N: This is another AU of the Avengers, post movie. Many thanks to ladygris for doing the Beta services again.

Warning: This story includes explicit and veiled references to drug and alcohol use and abuse.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers, Marvel, Facebook, Twitter, YouTube or any other social media. If I've left anything out, aside from the OC characters-which are totally mine, I don't own them/it either. Someone else does.

Namaste,

Sandy

How cruelly sweet are the echoes that start,

When memory plays an old tune on the heart.

~Eliza Cook

Avengers

Echoes

Chapter 4

"Speak up, Ms. O'Brien. I don't read minds." Clint's voice had dropped down to a sexy growl that vibrated against Natalia's chest. It felt good, and that didn't happen for her very often. Their lips were so close she could feel his warm breath on her skin, and that felt good too. Really good.

A smirk turned up the corners of her mouth. "And what will you tell them? 'A beautiful woman broke into my home and gave me a hard…'"

He pressed her arms deeper into the pillow stopping her from pointing out that his body was reacting to their intimate position confirming to her that he was naked under the covers. "Why are you here?"

"As I said, I just want to talk." Though she could easily have gotten free, Natalia maintained the illusion that her strength was that of the average human female. "You lied about not being interested, Clint."

One shoulder twitched up and down. "Parts of me have their own ideas, but you're right. I'm very…" he paused for a long moment, easing a fraction of an inch closer, his eyes dropping to her lips, "…interested. So, tell me, what's your real name?"

"Does it matter?"

Clint shrugged. "Not really." His gaze flitted over her features and back to her eyes. "So, what're we gonna do about this?"

Pretending to misunderstand, she frowned at him. "This?"

His head dipped, and for a moment she thought he was going to kiss her. He veered off course to place his mouth close to her ear, again using that sexy growl. "We've established that I'm interested, so I suppose the question should be are you interested?"

"That's…" a small gasp was forced out of her when he took her earlobe between his teeth, the action making her breathless, "…beside the point."

Clint shifted until he was nestled comfortably between her thighs, giving her legs their freedom. It would take only a few seconds for her to render him unconscious or even reverse their positions, but she chose not to and didn't examine the reason why too closely. Especially when he said, "No, that is the point."

His left hand changed position from where it encircled her wrist, sliding up to weave their fingers together. Turning his head slightly, Clint rubbed his stubbled cheek against her smooth one as he lifted his chest slightly from where it still pressed against hers causing a familiar feeling of arousal to whisper through her body. She gave up even the token struggle as his right hand mirrored the left so that now both were entwined. And this time, when his head lowered, he did kiss her.

Of their own volition, Natalia's legs wrapped themselves around his hips as she returned the kiss with a level of enthusiasm that matched him. Clint's left hand released hers, his fingertips blazing a trail of electricity down the sensitive skin along the inside of her arm to her shoulder making her glad she'd decided not to bring a weapon this time. But he didn't stop there. He continued the torturous path down to the side of her breast while their tongues battled. She refused to give in even when he lifted himself just enough to slide his hand between them to lift her shirt and reach inside to touch skin that seemed to be on fire.

Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she flipped him onto his back so that she was now astride his hips. Pushing herself upright until her firm backside rested on his thighs, Natalia shed the shirt. No sooner had it hit the floor than he'd released the front closure of her bra and whisked it away.

Though she didn't want to be separated from him, it was necessary in order to remove the rest of her clothing, which she did quickly, then joined him under the covers. It didn't take long for them to cast aside all reason.

~~O~~

Clint awoke to bright sunshine and the feeling that something amazing had happened during the night. Rubbing his eyes and yawning, he searched for the answer, and it came to him when he saw the distinctly feminine clothing piled on the floor beside the bed. A smile spread over his face as his brain finished its morning restart.

The woman from the hotel, Delany O'Brien, had broken into his house and they'd spent the night pleasing each other in ways Clint hadn't thought of in a long time. Somehow, she'd managed, without saying a word, to remind him of happier times. Times when his days-and nights-weren't filled with work, work and more work. Music had always been his passion, the one thing that made getting out of bed worth the effort, but the last few years had been about more than doing what he loved. His passion had turned into just another job.

For weeks he'd been struggling with writing one last song for the new CD. Nothing he'd come up with had worked, and suddenly, there it was. He tossed the covers aside, made a stop in the bathroom to relieve the twinge in his bladder, grabbed sweats and a T-shirt, dressing as he crossed the bedroom. He hustled down to the music room where he ignored the smell of coffee coming from the kitchen, going straight to the piano. Tossing out the sheets propped against the music desk, he took several blank sheets and a pencil from inside the bench then sat down to fill in notes and lyrics. Just the melody. Later he'd add harmony and structure with the help of the band. Chris would handle anything brass, Carlos, the bass line and Drake would fill in percussion.

Running an arpeggio up and down the keys, Clint began playing the melody his mind had shown him, pausing now and then to make changes. His concentration was so great that he barely noticed when a cup of coffee was set on the edge of the piano, a napkin used to protect the instrument's satin-like surface.

Over the next several hours, the coffee was replenished as if by magic. He never heard or spoke to his benefactor, just kept working until he was satisfied with the results. It might need a bit of tweaking, but he'd finally come up with something that he was happy with.

Clint stretched his arms, rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles then played the song from beginning to end without stopping. As the last note faded, he was startled by clapping, Delany coming to his side. With a smile, she sat down, not touching him, seemingly unsure of his reaction on this morning after a night of intense passion. "That was incredible, Clint, and I'm not just talking about the sex."

"And all because of you. The song, I mean."

~~O~~

Clint's frank and honest statement surprised Natalia. "Me? We've known each other less than a day."

His arm snaked around her waist pulling her close. "Seems like forever. When we met yesterday, we both sensed a connection. I'm not talking about love at first sight. Don't believe in it."

"Neither do I. But you're right. There is something here."

"And relax. The song's not about you. Been working on it for a while. Just needed some…" one side of his mouth smiled, "…stress relief, I guess."

"Glad I could help." She touched his cheek and pressed her lips to his, and before long, they were once again engaged in a dance as old as time itself. They headed for his bedroom, only making it as far as the sofa in the media room across the hall.

Later, they took separate showers and met in his room. Natalia was putting on her boots when he emerged wearing just a towel. As he turned toward her, she glanced at his left bicep noting a tattoo that wiggled and cavorted with the play of muscles under the skin. Why she'd expected it to be bare, she didn't know. Or maybe she did.

He took out clean clothes and got dressed as if she weren't there. Now that the physical attraction had been at least temporarily appeased, an awkward silence descended over them. Crossing her knees, Natalia waited for Clint to finish dressing before she spoke. "We still have to talk."

"You're not gonna let it go, are you?"

"I can't, Clint. I need answers, and you do too. You just won't admit it."

He sat beside her to put his boots on, turning his head to look at her while he did so. "You don't live in the area, do you? I'm not going to stalk you, if that's what you think. And I don't need to know the city, state or even the country you live in." Getting to his feet, he snatched up his jacket and phone, leaving behind the unopened pack of cigarettes and the lighter. At the door, he looked back at her, extending his hand in invitation. This would all go easier if she didn't touch him again, but Natalia found herself doing just that. Clint held onto her hand until they reached the kitchen. He poured another cup of coffee for each of them, carrying them out onto the patio. She sat in one of the comfortably cushioned chairs and he passed her one of the cups.

She took a sip of the drink. "I'm staying at La Hacienda on Bleeker."

"You could stay here, if you like." Her eyes met his over the rim of his cup, a wry smile playing on his lips as he waved a hand. "Five bedrooms. Pick one. Unless you'd like to share mine. Up to you. No pressure either way."

"I'll get back to you on both." Setting the cup aside, Natalia breathed in then out. "For some time now, I've been having unsettling dreams, and though you'll deny it, I know you've been having them too. I was hoping that together we could figure out what they mean. Why I keep seeing a different version of you in these dreams when I hadn't even heard your name until three days ago."

Clint's puzzled look seemed feigned, but she knew it wasn't. Greatly overplayed, but not false. "One, how could you know the contents of my dreams? Two, what makes you think I'd be able to bring any insight to the table? And three, how could you not have heard of Fallen Angels?"

It seemed like he'd tacked the last on to make her laugh though all she could muster was a sheepish smile. "My musical tastes tend more toward Tchaikovsky, Rimski-Korsakov, and Rubinstein."

"You're Russian?"

A small shrug lifted her shoulders. "I suppose you could say I have multiple citizenships."

"Cryptic yet vague and somewhat mysterious." Clint rested his right ankle on his left knee, fingering the hem of his pants leg waiting for her to continue.

Natalia snorted and smiled at his intentionally redundant remark that made him sound more like the Clint in her dreams. "As for the rest, I need very little sleep, and last night I was in the unique position of being able to make a few observations about you, starting with did you know you talk in your sleep?"

Again, that wry smile. "No. And that relates to the rest of it how?" Motioning for her to continue, he took a drink of coffee.

"I now know for certain that we're both reliving the same experiences because of what you said in your sleep." Natalia took a sip of her coffee and set it aside. "I believe we were meant to live very different lives, and in these other lives, we know each other better than we know ourselves."

Before he could formulate a response, Clint's phone vibrated across the table. With an apologetic shrug, he answered it. "Yeah? What?! Not a word. Haven't talked to her since…" Pushing to his feet, Clint stomped into the house and closed the sliding door with a slam. Through the glass Natalia could see him pacing angrily back and forth. The room must be soundproof because she couldn't hear what he was saying. His arm and the phone kept her from reading his lips. She didn't have far to go to find the origin of his reaction, wondering how he could've been oblivious to what was going on in his own home, the answer coming fast on the heels of that question in her head. Sighing, she quietly skirted around the side of the house, jogged across the field and hopped the fence, coming out about twenty yards from her car.

~~O~~

When the phone rang, Clint was tempted to ignore it in favor of listening to Delany explain how they could know each other when they'd only just met. But it was Coulson, and from the missed calls log, he'd been calling since very early that morning. After the night he'd spent with Delany, he'd completely forgotten to check his messages. Normally, he deleted them without reading or responding, but that wouldn't fly today, apparently. "…Slow down, Phil. I can't unders…What?! No. I told you, I haven't spoken to Alcina since the hotel…She did what? That little *****! Hell, yeah she's lying! No, I didn't tell her. No reason she had to know…What? Fine! I won't answer the door or the landline…Yeah, alright. Listen, I gotta go. Someone's here and…no one you know. Hell, I didn't even know her until last night…Haha! Yes, I do think it's safe to say we know each other better now."

The intercom began to ring incessantly. Someone wanted his attention and it was damned annoying. Clint hung up without saying good-bye knowing Coulson would understand. Going to the patio, he was surprised to see that Delany was gone. He hadn't heard her come inside, but with the distraction of Coulson's call, he wouldn't have. Before he looked for her, he had other business to take care of.

In the media room, he opened a hidden panel in the table behind the sofa and powered up the system. With just a few taps on the touch screen, he was presented with a real-time image of the front gate via hidden cameras. The driveway was filled with reporters, all waiting for him to come see what the noise was so they could pelt him with questions about his latest misstep. Every minute or so, someone would hit the buzzer, the harsh sound echoing through the entire house. Clint seemed to remember something he'd been told when he bought the house. Scrolling through the directory, he found what he was looking for.

Grinning evilly, he turned on the sprinklers in the front garden and watched the parasites scatter. Another tap and the security patrol was contacted. Reinforcements rolled up in force a few minutes later, the woman in the first car issuing orders for everyone to leave, backed up by two beefy men. Some did as they were told without complaint, while others tried to stand their ground. Those soulless creatures were threatened with a variety of infractions, reluctantly leaving with the others. Two officers were stationed at the gate to discourage any of them from returning. Not that it did any good, but they tried.

That taken care of, Clint went in search of his guest. "Delany?" Starting with his bedroom, he searched the house from one end to the other, but didn't find her. Nor had she left a note. His rumpled bed still bore the imprint of their night together. Probably the scent too. Though he wanted to indulge himself by smelling her pillow, he didn't have time for distractions.

Returning to the media room where he'd left the video running, he saw a familiar car pull up to the gate. Alcina flashed those pearly whites, fluttered her eyes, and showed her ID to the guard. He nodded and opened the gate. A few minutes later, she was letting herself in the front door. "Jimmy?"

Putting this off will just prolong the agony for both of us.

Clint met Alcina in the foyer. Last night, he'd noticed that she hadn't yet removed her possessions. "I'm here, Alcina. Let's not drag this out. Just take your **** and go."

The beginnings of a smile faded as she approached him. "Oh, Jimmy. Don't be like that. I'm sorry about our little fight. I just love you so much, seeing you with that girl made me jealous. Forgive me?"

As long as he'd known Alcina, she'd used that pretty little pout to get whatever she wanted from men. Clint had never fallen for it and his opinion was that's why she'd thrown herself at him until he gave in. But now her usefulness as a bedroom playmate was over, just like her career with Fallen Angels. With her voice, she'd have another gig very soon so he wasn't worried that she would be living on the streets.

"Alcina, you and I both know that you've never loved anyone but yourself." Clint said it in a tone that would tell her he hadn't let her off the hook for this latest screw-up. "Now get out. I'll have your stuff boxed up and shipped to your new address."

That pouty smile turned smug and overconfident in an instant. Alcina dropped her clutch purse on the coffee table as she took a seat on the sofa facing the fireplace. "You'll change your tune when you hear what I have to say. Please sit down."

"Just say it and go before I have you arrested for trespassing, and breaking and entering."

Alcina's expression faltered briefly then steadied, hardening. "You wouldn't throw the mother of your child out into the street, would you?"

Shaking a finger as he moved over in front of his ex-girlfriend, Clint nodded. "You're absolutely right. I wouldn't. But you're not having my baby."

"Yes, I am." She took a sheet of paper from her purse and handed it to him.

Curious, he read the document, refolded it and handed it back. "Still doesn't change the fact that it's not mine."

Angry now, Alcina shot to her feet, literally stomping her foot. "Stop saying that! Of course this baby is yours." Seeing that he wasn't backing down, she sighed wearily. "I know we hadn't planned on having a child so soon, but this could be a blessing in disguise."

When she tried to touch him, he backed out of her reach, repelled by her now. "You really need to learn how to listen, Alcina. It's not a blessing, disguised or otherwise. Not for me. The baby can't possibly be mine because I've had a vasectomy."

She gasped, completely taken aback by his admission. "Wh-what? When?"

"Long before I met you."

When Clint looked at her again, she was still in shock, staring at the floor with her mouth open. "I've heard they can grow back. That has to be what happened. They grew back and now we're…" Taking out his phone, Clint used his thumb to scroll his contact list. "What're you doing?"

"Calling my doctor. He'll settle this with a quick exam." While waiting for his call to be answered, Clint asked, "Out of curiosity, how far along are you?"

"Ten weeks as of today. Why?"

Into the phone, he said, "Jimmy Blue. I'm a patient of Dr. Bazhan's. Can you hold for a moment?" To Alcina he said, "There's one little detail you forgot in your attempt to force a commitment out of me. Ten weeks ago, I was recording appearances on talk shows while the rest of the group took time off. The last time you and I were together was three weeks ago. There's no way I could be the father even without the surgery." Clint wanted to laugh at the dumbfounded expression on Alcina's face, shaking his head instead. "I'm not angry about the cheating. We both made that mistake. I'm angry because you called a ****ing press conference to tell the world you're pregnant with my child and didn't even have the decency to come to me first."

"Grrr!" She snatched her purse from the table, stomped to the front door, glaring at him over her shoulder when he called her name.

"Alcina, if you need money…"

Her laugh was harsh, almost cruel. "You think money will make this all better, Jimmy? Well, I don't need your charity. I've already got another gig goin' with the baby's father. At least he's man enough to step up."

"Why did you try to make me think I was the father if you…" Clint didn't get to finish his thought because Alcina jerked the front door open, slamming it on her way out.

Clint turned his attention to the call to the doctor's office. "Sorry about that…No, everything's fine. If the doctor has a few minutes later this week, ask him to call me."

He hit end and tossed the phone in the chair on his way to the window that face the pool. Rubbing his hands over his face, he exhaled loudly, relieved that he'd dodged yet another metaphorical bullet. Alcina was not happy that he called her bluff. It was strange how relieved he felt now that she was out of his life.

For the first time in months, he had nowhere to be right away, leaving him with plenty of time to wonder what happened to Delany. He knew it wasn't her real name, and she'd been reluctant to share that info so he hadn't pushed, even though it created an unbalanced scale between them giving her the advantage. She knew practically everything about him and he knew almost nothing about her. Not an auspicious start to their relationship.

Laughing at the absurdity of it, Clint remarked out loud, "Some relationship, Barton. You'll probably never see her again." He sat down, exhaling loudly into the empty room. "Now how the hell are you gonna find out what the dreams mean?"

No matter what he told Delany, the dreams were becoming more vivid forcing him to up his game to keep them from disturbing his peace of mind. That's a crock, Barton! You're peace of mind's already in the toilet.

Slapping his thighs, Clint returned to his room, the long hallway making it seem like he was taking that final walk to the gas chamber. One of the reasons he spent so much time partying, whether at home or on the town, was that he hated being alone. It was also why he let Alcina stay with him even knowing he'd never make any sort of commitment to her. What had been a convenience for him Clint now saw as being cruel, getting Alcina's hopes up to the point that she was willing to let him think that the baby she was carrying belonged to him. He might've bought it too, if he hadn't made the decision not to have children and taken the steps necessary to prevent it.

He removed his T-shirt, tossing it aside as he went into the bathroom and turned on the hot water. When the steam started to fog the mirror, he splashed water on his face, squirted a generous amount of shaving cream into his hand and applied it to his chin and upper lip. He wet the razor and proceeded to divest himself of all facial hair. Coulson and his fans would ****, but he didn't care at the moment. Besides, he could grow it back any time.

Dressed again, Clint grabbed his ball cap and sunglasses, shoved his arms into the sleeves of his jacket and left by the back door, jogging across the huge yard to a shed the size of a two-car garage. He entered through the side door and a moment later, an engine roared to life. A larger door retracted, Clint gunned the engine once more and managed to burn a little rubber on his way to the far end of the property. He touched a button on the dash and shot through the gate with barely an inch to spare on either side.

With no real destination in mind, Clint got on the PCH and just drove. Hours later, he pulled into a gas station, filled the tank then went inside to get coffee. Reaching into his inside pocket for his wallet, he felt the plastic bag Dawg had given him the day before. If ever he needed a pick-me-up it was now. He paid for his drink and went into the bathroom. He came out a few minutes later and got back into his car, cell phone to his ear. "…That's what I said, Coulson. Just a formal press release to all news agencies advising that I'm not the father of Alcina's baby and the reason why…No, I don't care if the entire world knows…In fact, I want the world to know…Also let them know we'll be holding auditions for her replacement…Say it however you want…No, I'm not at home. I'll be out for a while…a while…You don't want to know…Oh, and send someone take Alcina's crap out of my house. Change the locks and the gate code too. In fact, do that first…Fine. Come by tomorrow around noon…Yes, I'll be awake."

He shoved the phone into his back pocket and for the first time in hours, Clint thought about Delany, wondering if he'd ever see her again. He drove aimlessly for a long time, looking around when he stopped at a light, not at all surprised to find that he'd arrived at the hotel where Delany said she was staying. Leaving his cap and sunglasses on, Clint went to the front desk, but the agent wouldn't even tell him if she was staying there, much less what her room number was.

It was dark and the lobby clock gave the time as after nine, and a cold beer sounded better than a hot meal. Going into the lounge, he found a seat in a dim corner, ordered a Sam Adams and settled in to listen to the band. The female singer wasn't bad. Good but not good enough for Fallen Angels. And the lead guitarist's A string was slightly out of tune, grating on Clint's nerves. He thought about setting the guy straight, but he preferred to keep a low profile, so he said nothing.

Nursing his third beer, Clint stared at a spot six inches in front of his nose, so zoned out that he was startled when a delicate and graceful hand came into his line of sight. He followed the slender arm up to where it was attached to a satin smooth shoulder. One that he'd recently had intimate contact with. Above it, a pair of ruby red lips smiled.

"Would you like to dance?"

~~O~~

The grumbling of her stomach reminded Natalia she hadn't eaten since morning. Picking up the remote, she started to order room service then decided she didn't want to eat alone. Even if she sat by herself, at least she'd be in the presence of others in the bar. Besides, staying in her room seemed too much like brooding, and she never brooded unless doing so would help achieve her goal with a mark.

Downstairs, she stood in the doorway a moment before taking a seat as far from the stage as possible. A few minutes later, her order arrived, southwestern salad with cilantro lime vinaigrette-no corn, extra tomatoes-and a Paloma. The flavors didn't complement each other though she didn't care at the moment. It was fuel for her body, and the alcohol soothed her state of mind faster than a hot bath.

While she ate, her thoughts again centered on the dreams, Clint, and the strange connection they shared. They still had to talk, and if he was serious about his offer of a place to stay, taking it would give her the time she needed to convince him to talk.

She ordered another Paloma, it was delivered and as she took the first sip, the server made her way to another table in the corner. Through the dim lighting, she saw Clint trade cash for the beer, barely seeming to notice anything that was going on around him. Why was he here? Looking for her? That seemed a likely scenario because it was highly improbable that he'd come to this particular hotel by chance.

The next song, slow and melancholy, begged for her to get up and dance. Going to Clint's table, she held out her hand. "Would you like to dance?"

Clint seemed startled to see her then, he smiled. With a nod, he took her hand. "Love to."

Out on the dance floor, he held her close, but not too. Certainly not as if they were lovers and absolutely not like friends, but somewhere in between, as if he couldn't make up his mind how to treat her. Midway through the song, she whispered, "Is the offer of a room still on the table?"

"That's why I'm here. But the clerk was a butthead and wouldn't give me your room number."

"Room 703. When you're ready to go, I'll pack and check out."

He pulled her fractionally closer, a slight yet noticeable tightening of his arms, and she started to relax. Then, movement at the entrance to the bar caught her attention. Not that the comings and goings of the clientele generated much interest. It was the identity of the man and woman that alarmed her. Keeping her voice carefully neutral, Natalia leaned back to smile up at Clint. "Let's get out of here."

"Okay."

Clint took her hand, following when she tugged him toward the door that opened onto a small patio instead of going through the lobby. The gate was locked this late at night, but that wouldn't deter her. She released Clint's hand and scaled the fence, dropping lightly to the ground on the other side, motioning for him to hurry. "Let's go!"

"What the hell's going on, Delany?"

"No time. We have to go now, so move your ass!"

The look on Clint's face told her she'd have a lot to explain, but now wasn't the time. With more agility than she thought he possessed, Clint climbed over the fence and landed firmly next to her. "This way."

He led her to a nearly-new Porsche 911 Turbo convertible. They buckled up and were on the road within seconds, Clint shifting smoothly through the gears. He pulled onto the highway, bumping his speed up to twenty miles over the posted speed limit. All during the ride to his home, he didn't speak and she let it happen. There would be plenty of time for talk later, as long as they weren't followed and she had to fight her way out while protecting Clint from her enemies.

In Clint's neighborhood, traffic was sparse, and Natalia was relieved when they made the turn into the driveway and the gates closed them inside safely. Not that it would be a deterrent. With their abilities, nothing would keep them from getting to her if they really wanted to.

He parked the car and soon they were inside the house with the doors locked and alarms engaged. Clint divested himself of his jacket, keys, wallet and phone by laying them on the coffee table in the main living room. Natalia stood there waiting for him to say something, and it didn't take long.

"Spill it." Waving a hand, Clint indicated their speedy retreat from the hotel, holding onto his temper with difficulty. "What the hell is going on? Who were they, the man and woman at the hotel? Why are you afraid of them? What are you running from?"

TBC