Chapter 6

"What about Nat?"

Laura really did have a way of asking the questions I did NOT want to answer. I swallowed. "Ahem. What about her?"

"Clint—" there was the warning tone.

"She's with them," my voice came out strangled.

I was still so confused about what had happened.

I knew Nat had been burned pretty bad, psychologically speaking, back in the day during her time in the Red Room, but even more so when she left SHIELD and got sucked back into it again, with the KGB. After years of getting over her past, they'd brainwashed her right back to where she'd started—only this time, she was no longer an innocent teenage victim. Or at least, she no longer felt like one when I found her.

But that was years ago.

And back then, I was the only one she trusted enough to come back and admit her mistakes to. I was glad to argue and excuse and elbow her way back into the organization for her. She'd seemed fine, back into the swing of things. Making a better life for herself.

When Loki came, though, that regret seemed to resurface. The Natasha I knew from the old days would never have planted herself in the middle of a war. She was a spy, not a warrior, or at least she hadn't been before the Battle of New York. Loki pulled something out of her that I'd never known she was carrying, and she was my best friend. I'm the closest thing she has to family, and I've always treated her that way.

Now, suddenly, she was acting like Tony had the key to life itself, when all along I thought our family was just that.

Tony was trying to control all of us, and whether he was doing it on purpose or not, he was literally going to cause the end of all existing world governments if Excelsior was allowed to operate like it was supposed to.

I couldn't exactly let that happen, not with the woman on the other end of the phone relying on me to keep our kiddos safe and sound and get back home to her at the end of it all.

"Someone wants to talk to you," Laura said softly, through the speaker.

I sat up a little more against the bathroom counter. I was using the phone that came with our hotel room, having been warned that if I glanced more than a little in the direction of the toweled-up ladies busy removing glass shards from each other's legs, I'd have more than just half the Avengers as my new enemies.

"Hi Daddy, I miss you," came the new voice on the phone.

My resolved wish that she were in bed this late at night wavered, before dissolving completely. "Hey, baby girl."

Sharon looked up at me curiously. I pretended not to notice. Everyone was finding out now, anyway.

I had a sudden, sickening realization that Tony and the others knew all about—

No. Never.

They never would.

I shook my head of the thought. "Hi, Sweetheart. How was your day?"

"It was good. I started my archery class."

I just about choked up right over the phone. "That today?" Where had the time gone?

"Uh-huh. I learnded to use a little bow. I could only hit the big targets though, and I didn't get them in the middle like you do," she sounded disappointed.

"Hey!" I spoke up right away. "That's all right! Just using it's hard enough to start with. You've just got to keep practicing, and you'll hit the center target in no time." I excitedly turned around to lean against the counter. Sharon and Wanda jumped up with their towels and glared at me.

I stuck my tongue out at them.

Juvenile, yes. But could Lila see me? Nope.

"Are you fighting with the other Abengers?"

"Yuh-huh," I dragged out his response, really hoping I didn't accidentally tell her something I shouldn't.

"Mommy says Iron Man's the best because he's the cutest."

I completely forgot the others were sitting right next to me. "Mom what?"

An explosion of laughter was all I heard from the other end of the phone as both Lila and my wife descended into fits of giggles.

I groaned loudly. "Lila, give your mother back to me for a sec. What kind of stuff is she putting in your head?"

Still giggling, there was static as the phone transferred from one ear to another. "I'm so sorry," Laura gasped between laughs, "I told her to say that just to be mean, Clint, honestly."

"Well, gee, I feel so tickled," I griped. "Seriously though, you might want to let her know. Iron Man isn't such a great hero-figure to be enthralled with right now. Not if we end up engaging him full-on like Steve is wanting to."

"Honey, is this Excelsior disk really such a big deal?" Laura sighed, serious once more. "I know being part of the Avengers is really important to you, and it is to me, too, but if this is going to get out of our control, I would—" she sighed again. "Look, Clint, honestly, I would feel better if you were at home."

"I know. Me, too."

"I feel like I should call Nat, too," Laura continued. "Honey, don't you think she should at least get the idea that she doesn't have to do this? She can come back. Bruce can come with her, for all I care. They're so cute together," she added with a smile in her voice.

I barked a short laugh. "Lar, I don't know if that's a good idea."

"Hmm? Why not?"

I swallowed hard. Would it make any difference if Laura tried to talk her out of it? Teenaged Natasha used to be so reasonable. She trusted us more back then.

"Well," I gulped, "No reason, I guess. Anyway, I'll—I'll call you if I find out anything else. Before we go in. Have a good night, hon."

I winced as Lila jumped up in the phone and screamed, "I love you, Daddy!" before bounding off. I laughed a little, even though I had to re-adjust my hearing aids.

"Love you, too!"

Laura's voice sounded musical after that. I made a note that he needed to leave my aids on this new setting from now on. "I guess we really don't say that enough," she mused, in that tone that had made me fall in love with her at the first. "I love you so much, Honey."

"Yeah," I grinned. "I love you too, Babycakes."

I enjoyed the disgusted stares I was getting from the ladies next to me.

"Honeyboo," Laura responded immediately, honey dripping from the words.

"Love Muffin."

"Don't refer to my baby fat!"

"What?! I wasn't referring to your—"

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"No, Ma'am. Not a chance. I love you the most. Every inch of you." I knew the drill by now.

"You're such a sap," I could sense the disgruntled pleasure she got from the praise.

"I'll never change!" I laughed.

"No, you won't! And I wouldn't have it any other way," she added lovingly, making me smile.

I knew she was referencing what other women had once said about me. For Bobbi and them, it was the excuse they'd given for leaving me.

"Oh, Clint Barton, Clint Barton. You'll never change."

I was that pathetic, painfully human guy who could see targets six miles away and miss the broken relationships right in front of my face.

Laura was different from them. My struggles only drew her closer.

"I love you," I said slowly, meaningfully.

"Be careful. I love you, too. I'll be praying for you."

"Yeah, thanks. I need it."

"How long does it take these idiots to say good-bye?" Sharon hissed under her breath to Wanda. She had a gash in one leg, with blood dripping down the side of the toilet cover from where Wanda had pulled out the glass. She noticed me looking and smacked me in the knee.

"Bye," I said pointedly, glaring at her as Laura repeated it and hung up the phone.

"You guys," Sharon groaned as soon as he was off. "You have any idea how disgusting you sound?"

Wanda turned around, smiling at me first and then at the FBI agent. "Do I sense some sarcasm in there?" she spoke in her heavy accent. I snorted, and Sharon rolled her eyes.

That was one thing about the Avengers. Even when the world descended into chaos, we still found stuff to jam down each other's throats as comic relief.

Not willing to be slapped again for staring (even though I wasn't), I hung the phone back on the wall and rescinded into the main part of the room.

Steve was focusing extremely hard on wrapping Sam's strained knee, right in the spot where Hulk had grabbed him. It took all my effort not to laugh. The two of them were practically falling asleep where they stood. Sam's head was drooping, Steve was leaning against the edge of the bed in a very un-supersoldier like way, eyelids threatening to close with every slow wrap he performed around Sam's knee.

Never mind, I was already laughing. I walked over and butted Steve aside in a friendly way, taking hold of Sam's knee to finish the job myself. "How long you been awake, Cap?"

"Been a long day," was all Steve said in reply. He slumped to the floor, stretching his legs out in front of him.

"You hurt?" I eyed him critically.

"Might have some glass in me. Think you could convince one of the girls to get it out for me?" he looked up, a slight twinkle in his eye.

I laughed and shook my head. "You'd have to do all the convincing there. They're not showing any mercy on me tonight."

When Steve didn't answer, unusual for him, I grew a little concerned.

"You sure you're all right?"

Steve didn't answer again, pulling up a knee and leaning his arm on it, raking a hand across his face.

Sam caught my eye. "He's been to Peggy Carter's funeral today," he explained in a low voice.

Oh. I nodded slowly.

I'd meant to go and see Miss Peggs myself one more time. I didn't want to admit that I'd simply forgotten, especially not to Steve.

"She was a pretty fine lady," I didn't look at Steve, focusing instead on the semi-arduous task of bandaging Sam. "She made a good director for SHIELD before Fury came along. Anyone else would've kicked me out. Not just once, but a couple of times," I smiled at the memory.

A ghost of a smile crossed Steve's face, and he looked up. "Hard to imagine you doing anything that bad," he joked.

I snorted. "I know, right? I'm perfect!"

"What did you know about her?"

I wrinkled an eyebrow, focusing on the bandage. "Well, her giving over everything to Fury was bittersweet, I'll give you that. She was eighty-five, or something like it, before she left. You know how old people eventually get to the point where they just can't figure out technology? She got computers surprisingly well, but her downfall was the smartphones. She could never figure out how to work those things, since we had them long before the public did. She even had an assistant to help her, and she still butt-dialed me like, thirty times in six months," I couldn't hold back from laughing at the memory.

Steve started chuckling as well, so I counted that as a win.

"Or maybe she was just trying to flirt with me and got embarrassed every time because I was, like, eighteen," I snorted again.

"You think Peggy Carter had a thing for you? You're under some serious delusions of grandeur, man," Sam punched me in the shoulder with a grin.

"We can't just sit here for long. We need to keep an eye on Stark," Steve sat up again, suddenly ready for action. Sam and I looked to him. "Somebody's got to get inside that building and figure out where the disk is. Even if Shay managed to fry its brains, it won't take too long for Tony to get it up and running again."

Sam and I exchanged a glance. Apparently, it was now serious-time again.

"Not with the Hulk helping him," Sam agreed.

I managed to abstain from the sudden need I felt to correct him. The Hulk wasn't Bruce, and Bruce wasn't the Hulk. They were both the same person, but they were very, very different sides of him. But that was just my geeky side.

"Shay?" I guffawed instead. Again, I abstained from the need to poke at Steve for his Carter-family affinities.

Steve glared at me anyway.

"Look, I can get in there," I waved my hand, "but then there's Natasha. Who is in there..." Hopefully the implication of that sentence was made very clear to the other two.

"Coward!" Sharon yelled from the bathroom. "I could infiltrate that Tower in eighty seconds flat."

"I've LIVED there before, thanks, and you could do no such thing," I yelled back, annoyed.

What did she know?

"Guys," Steve started, shaking his head, but then his phone buzzed.

Actually, it started going off wildly. Buzzing, ringing at top volume, blinking every light at once—literally everything a phone could do to possibly get someone's attention.

I frowned at it. That was not normal.

"I swear this thing was on silent," Steve shouted over the noise. He fumbled to get it out of his pocket. When he'd first come to SHIELD, Fury had given him a flip phone. I'd been a principal agent in making sure he knew how to use that, and when I figured out he was kidding with me, I made him get a smartphone. He'd only had it for the last three months, though.

"Is it a bomb?" was the first thought that went through my mind.

"Have you never seen a cell phone—?" Sam started.

I gave him a look. "I've seen hundreds of cell phone bombs, smarty pants."

"Answer it, answer it!" Sharon shrieked from the other room, stumbling out with blood on her limbs and cheek and a towel around her waist that was fast getting plastered with her DNA.

"No, wait!" I snatched the phone from Steve before he could answer the call. I started to pound in a few ridiculously long and complicated bypass codes I'd learned from working in the tech department that one time when Agent Ward had surgery.

He was annoyed because I took apart all his toys. Some kids gotta learn that you just can't get along with everybody.

Halfway through the first one, I stopped suddenly. I knew this code. I KNEW I did! It—it was like—it was stuck, there, somewhere in my brain, and I just couldn't quite reach—

Steve slowly took a step forward, noticing the empty look on my face, and took it from me.

My hand dropped and allowed him to take it. I was trying to help, trying to disable any possible explosives and keep us all safe, but what good was it when I couldn't remember how to enter the codes?

Steve motioned for everyone to step back, holding it away from his face before, with all of our hearts pounding in a collective circle, he hit the answer button.

Long, heavy breathing were what sounded from the other end, not the explosion we'd all been partially expecting.

The ringing, buzzing, and flashing stopped, though, which was another plus.

With a sigh of relief, Steve managed to find the speakerphone so we could all hear what was being said. Wanda bounded out of the bathroom to crowd around with everyone else.

"Who is this?" Steve demanded, using his special commanding-officer-official-representative-of-the-American-nation voice.

"This is Director Phil Coulson of SHIELD," came the voice I knew better than anyone but my wife's.

A slow grin spread across my face, and I watched almost giddily as Steve's mouth fell right open.

"Glad to hear your voice, Captain. Can somebody get my agent on the line?"

I snatched it from him again.

I tend to feel a personal protectiveness over conversations having to do with Coulson. The Avengers hadn't heard from him since his 'death', which I didn't even know about until he told me himself, and the rest of them hadn't heard from SHIELD through anyone but Maria since it 'disbanded' over a year ago. Plus, he was my dearest friend.

"Agent Barton right here, Sir. Location is—semi-secure, I suppose."

Phil sighed heavily into the phone. "I heard that you all are having a little trouble agreeing," he began.

I snorted. "Understatement of the year, Sir."

"Well, that is unfortunate timing," Phil continued. "You're sure this is secure?"

"Secure as anything we'll find, I guess."

"Good. SHIELD's been compromised."

I paused, not sure what to say. "Again?"

"Again," Phil replied, more tiredly than irritably. "And this time, it's an unknown mole we can't seem to pin down. The main reason for that is that whoever-it-is has managed to trap almost half our currently operating agents in a dungeon in Wakanda, Africa."

My eyebrows raised without meaning to. "That is—very unfortunate timing, Sir. How many agents?"

"We don't have Agent Romanoff," Phil said quickly, probably meaning to reassure me, although it really didn't help much. "My personal team, Agent Hill, myself. Some other people I can't remember the names of."

I grinned in spite of myself. "Wait, Phil, you mean you're calling me from a dungeon? What're your coordinates?"

"16.0096° North and latitude 8.7236° East."

I bolted for the hotel scratch paper and started taking all of it down.

"Oh, and Captain?" Phil said.

Steve leaned in close, eyebrows furrowed.

Phil's voice softened, even over the phone. "We found your friend."

I looked up at him. Color had blanched from Cap's face. "Wait, you found who?" I demanded.

"We found Bucky Barnes."

All of us froze, waiting to hear what Coulson would say next.

"He's being held with us. He did help to capture us, but then he flipped out a little bit afterwards and he couldn't be trusted by his employers any more. He's been with us for a while now and helped me make this call. He remembers everything now."

"You safe?" I said roughly, not daring to meet Cap's eyes when I said it. As much as I sympathized with the whole 'Winter Soldier' business, it wasn't one I cared to lose any friends or colleagues' lives to.

"As safe as it gets in a dungeon with rats crawling up your leg every few minutes. We'll be fine, we just can't stay here long. We're in line to be executed by the end of the week. If something happens and the schedule gets moved up—you get the idea."

"How long do you have now?"

"I've been informed Agent Hill is in line for Friday."

"Phil, that's tomorrow!"

"Oh, it is?"

"YES!" Everyone belted out.

Phil seemed startled from everyone answering at once. "You lose track of time in a dungeon, Clint! I'll see if I can switch with her. We'll see about—"

"Don't you dare switch spots," I snapped, irritated that he'd even consider such a thing. But of course, it was Phil I was talking to. "Nobody's switching spots, you hear me? That makes people angry. And we don't need anyone mad if we're going to get you out of there. Hey! Coulson! You hear me?"

Another sigh. "You're right."

"Fine. Now, do we need to know anything else?"

There was a murmur of talking on the other end, and then Coulson was back on. "Guard shifts every three hours, large prison. Do NOT make contact with the other prisoners, but don't freak out if you see them. There are some real fleabags down here," he sighed again.

The sighing part of it was beginning to make me a little worried. "We've got it covered. Don't worry about us. You hang on down there, all right?"

"Nothing but."

"All right," I smiled halfheartedly. "We're coming for you."

"Over and out."

"Same."

Avoiding the looks of the other Avengers, I turned off the phone and pulled the SIM card out. Out of my pocket, I fished a metal file that I used for fixing my hearing aids, and occasionally for breaking out of prisons. I used it to punch a solid hole through the middle of the card, headed to the bathroom, flushed both pieces down the toilet, and came out to hand Steve back his phone.

"Hope you didn't have anything important on there, Cap."

Steve stared at me. "Agent Coulson's alive?"

I resisted the urge to bang my head against something. "He is alive."

"Am I—the only one who is surprised by this?" Cap continued incredulously, looking around at the others.

"Who's Coulson?" Sam asked.

"Just so everyone knows, I'm not the mole," Sharon raised her hand sardonically. "I'm not actually with SHIELD, FYI for those who have forgotten. Or care."

"I care," Steve eyed her, a slight smile on his face.

I was staring at my boots.

Yes, I know, I did actually wear boots to a fancy-dress expo. Force of habit.

Now there were two jobs that needed to be done, and they were both equally important. Rescue SHIELD, deactivate Excelsior.

Part of me felt like I could manage the latter. Heck, I'd done crazier things than the former on my own before. But usually, with both types of missions, I'd have someone at my back going in with me. Usually Natasha.

"Someone needs to keep an eye on Excelsior while the rest of us go in," Steve was saying. "Then we can all fly in to Wakanda as fast as possible."

"I'll do it," I was volunteering before I even realized it.

"Thank you, Clint." Steve gave me a weird smile, and I realized I'd kind of been expected to take the job.

I felt a little embarrassed for having been hesitant at first.

But hey, what can a guy do when he's got a family at home he's trying to think about? I mean, I could totally take a fight with Black Widow, Iron Man, Vision, and War Machine all at once and walk out with only a few bruises, but who did Steve think I was, some kind of superhero?

I looked around me, automatically picking up my duffel and preparing to leave as I did so, feeling a strange sense of foreboding. I had no problem with an extra crazy mission every now and then to assert my place on the team—heck, I could use all the good rep I could get after getting screwed over by my very-ex-wife Bobbi when she decided to pop in and visit one day.

And stayed with the Avengers for three months...and got shaved by Natasha…long story.

Getting shot on the mission in Sokovia didn't help my case for belonging with the Avengers much, either. Everybody gets shot every once in a while, just not everybody gets incapacitated by a not-even-lethal wound.

So I had stuff to prove—yes, Pietro, even at my age.

Sometimes I just have to mentally curse at the kid just to pretend for a second that he's still around. I've discovered Wanda does the same thing, and just as colorfully.

But—Natasha. That just didn't bode well with me.

"Call us—I mean, call someone besides me," Steve instructed me, looking down at his now-useless phone in his hand. "—if anything even remotely happens. There's only five of us. Losing anyone at this point would be a disaster."

Wouldn't it be a disaster to lose a team member at any point?

Inwardly I winced, but tried not to show it. "Check in after curfew. Got it," I nodded, heading out the door.

"The rest of us—" Steve indicated to the others, "—get some rest. We're all going to need it."

I stepped outside into the hallway, making my decision to sneak out the window instead of allowing the hotel staff to see where I'd went. That done, I shouldered my bag and took a large, long sniff of the sharp night air.

This was just fan-crapping-tastic. I was now a Stark fugitive, without any backup. Or sleep, but I was used to that.

I pulled out my phone and a very familiar feeling started humming through my veins.

"Natalia Romanova," I grinned slightly. "You're killing me."