The archery range in the sub-basement was a small dream. All the lighting was on multiple dimmer switches that could be programmed to cycle anywhere from dim light with vague, shifting shadows to psychedelic strobe effects. Factor in the variable air currents, and distance wasn't something he missed, especially for a maintenance range. Clint would bring in some structures to mimic the kind of architectural interference he was used to working around. Maybe the Hulk-designed gym could stand up to some explosive arrows, he could play Balls-Out Tag with Natasha.
Speaking of the devil, and she shall appear . . . Clint was contemplating lunch when his phone gave its signal for an incoming Tasha call: a single, clear crystal chime. He unstrung and racked his bow, took a deep, centering breath, and picked up his phone.
"Did you know Phil was alive?" he asked.
"How do *you* know he's alive?" Natasha asked calmly in return.
They rarely wasted time on pleasantries. "Not long after New York, I spoke to him in SHIELD Medical. He was in agony and asked me to kill him. I convinced him I'd help him see it through. Yesterday I talked to someone who spoke to him a couple of weeks ago. Did you know?"
"I began suspecting three months ago. A Quinjet tech was transferred from the Bus facility to the Triskellion, and I overheard him talking about a red Corvette and the owner snapping at him to not touch Lola."
Clint smiled. "He does have her."
"He didn't say it was Phil, he didn't seem to have recognized him when I asked about the car. He just said a crabby balding man in a suit was being very particular about how they secured Lola on the ramp in the back of the plane."
"Yeah, he does get particular." He swallowed. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I thought I might have hallucinated talking to him. I thought he might have died for real. I thought you'd been told but I wasn't trusted enough. You always know all the good gossip. It's only since I've washed up here at Stark's that I've gotten confirmation that it was true. Why didn't you tell me?"
He actually heard her swallow. "I thought Phil had already contacted you and told you not to tell me. He always contacts you," she said softly. It was the voice he'd heard in a small Ukrainian town, when the Black Widow had finally decided to believe Hawkeye wasn't trying to trick her, that his offer was genuine, that she might have really found a place where she could feel a little safe.
He bit down hard on his lip, but he couldn't stop the tears that blurred his vision. "I should have told you sooner. He hasn't contacted me. He said he would."
The unsettling fragility in her voice disappeared. "He said he'd contact you, but he hasn't? And he's out operating in the field?"
"They fucked with his head, Tash. Literally and figuratively. Did you know about Tahiti?"
"Last ditch medical procedure for irreplaceable assets. They put Phil through that?"
He crouched and started curling up on himself, arms around his head holding the phone to his ear. "Yeah. God, Tash, when I saw him, there were things plugged into his brain, his whole skull was open, and he was awake and knowing they were butchering his mind-"
"Clint. Stop."
He took a deep breath. "I caught up to the doctor who was in charge. They took away his memories, apparently the treatments were so horrible they had to wipe the patients' memories so they could cope. The doc said Phil was getting some of his memory back, but that's apparently a bad thing."
She made a thoughtful noise. "Someone has to be monitoring him."
"Melinda May's the pilot of record for the Bus."
"I'd heard she wasn't riding a desk anymore. He'd take more from her than just about anyone who isn't us."
"Why hasn't he called us, Tash? I'm persona non grata, but you-"
"You are not persona non grata, Clint."
"Then why are you Cap's partner and not mine?"
She sighed. "I've been pushing Fury to let you in on this strike force, but Pierce has been pushing Rumlow and his team. It fits SHIELD's paramilitary structure better than an Avengers reunion tour would. And I think Steve prefers working with a more formal setup."
"As opposed to the rampant individualism of the Avengers?"
"Do you blame him?"
"Not really. Does he still try to salute people?"
"Not so much anymore. Things are happening that are pissing him off, and he's kicking at the traces."
Clint smirked and started to uncurl. "This is the guy who got Peggy Carter and Stark's dad to help him go AWOL to rescue a bunch of POWs."
"I think Steve knows something about Phil," Natasha said thoughtfully. "I followed him into a comic book store once, and he was looking at some of the new Avengers stuff. I asked him who he was going to buy. He poked one of the bobble-head things of him and said 'I bet Phil would like this.' I figured he was just confusing tenses and said Phil would have bought the whole set. He got twitchy and said 'I bet he would have, yeah.'"
"Why would Steve know something and we wouldn't?"
"He's a Level 8."
"He's what now? He's got higher clearance than you?" Her silence was amused. "Higher clearance than you admit to?"
"He gets to walk into Fury's office and yell at the Director."
"I've done that."
"Steve doesn't get thrown out."
Clint wondered how much Captain America would be willing to discuss about a highly classified project, especially with someone he'd only actually spent just a few hours with in extraordinary situations. "Would he talk?"
"Maybe to you. He did spend time with Phil, he knows how close teammates can be."
"Is he reachable?"
"Stark should have his number-or Jarvis does. We just finished an op, so he should be available. But like I said, he's feeling pissy about some things. He could even say 'damn it' to you."
"Wow, he is peeved. Op go OK?" he asked after a beat, carefully dropping his concern into the pause.
"Mission accomplished," she said easily, "everyone we care about came home with nothing more than the usual dings. And your op?"
"Anyone who could aim properly could have done it. Damn it, Tasha-"
"Clint, don't. Things will change. We'll get Phil back, we'll straighten this out." The smile came back into her voice. "Where would you go, anyway?"
"Maybe the Fantastic 4 are hiring? Xavier in Westchester keeps sending Fury notes about testing me against his known mutants."
"You just want to fly his Blackbird."
"There's that." He couldn't help a sigh.
"You need me to come up for a visit?"
"Need, no. Want, yes. But I'm betting you're still working angles on that op you didn't talk much about."
"There are a few loose ends, but they wouldn't suffer for half a day's delay."
He thought about it. Sex and them had been a foregone conclusion in the early days, then they realized the sex had been an excuse to curl up next to each other in the dark. They'd dropped the middle man and just went for the curling up, anymore. It was where they whispered their secrets to each other, and it was the only place he'd be able to truly admit how lost he was.
"Come up when your loose ends are tidy. I'll probably be here. We can take a look at that apartment Stark set up for you across the hall from me."
"Look at the what that Stark did where?"
"Show you when I see you. Bye."
"Dam-"
He shut off his phone, winning this round of Who Can Bail from the Conversation First.
He took the stairs back up the Tower, but even knowing Natasha hadn't been hiding things from him couldn't give him the energy to do a stair run up 80+ floors. He tapped out on the 43rd floor and dropped to the concrete next to the firedoor to catch his breath. His phone beeped.
"Are you in need of assistance, Mr. Barton?" Jarvis asked.
"Nah, just . . . younger lungs. There's got to be . . . somebody here not making proper use of theirs . . . right?"
"Stark Industries has a formal policy against vivisection and coerced organ transplants, sir."
"Stark's or Ms. Potts' idea?"
"Mr. Stark's at Dr. Banner's urging, sir."
"I can see that. Whose floor am I on?"
"The 43rd floor is leased to a publishing company, sir."
Clint paused halfway to his feet. "What kind of publishing company?"
"They specialize in political exposes and conspiracy theories."
"And they're here in Starkland?"
"I believe they write off their rent as a research expense. They regularly check through the building's dumpsters in search of useful tidbits. Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner like to leave gifts for them."
"Do those gifts tend to glow?"
"It has been known to happen."
"How many companies are in the building other than Stark's?"
"Other than these publishers, there are a number of accountancy agencies and brokerages who are taking advantage of the heightened security of the building."
It was always good to know who was sharing real estate with you. Between Jarvis and Ms. Potts, Clint was sure those companies didn't have a secret left to their names. He got to his feet. "They'd probably enjoy having a guy with a bow wander through their elevator lobby, wouldn't they."
"I'm sure their aplomb will be unruffled, sir. Though perhaps you could refrain from posing for photographs."
"That'll depend on how long it takes for the elevator to get there, won't it."
"Challenge accepted, sir."
Jarvis, not being a cheater, didn't lock the firedoor on him, and Clint sprinted through the offices and workers to the elevator lobby two seconds before the elevator arrived and opened its doors. The receptionist at the desk barely had time to finish blinking before he slipped into the car and the doors closed. The pair inside glanced up at the floor indicator, then went back to their conversation about rare earth magnets. They disembarked on the 51st floor without apparently realizing who the sweaty guy with the bow and quiver was.
The private buttons appeared when the door closed behind them. "Which floor, sir?" Jarvis asked.
"Where's Stark at the moment?"
"Sir is with Dr. Banner in the general lab on the 81st floor."
"Is Banner up for visitors?"
"Dr. Banner's vital signs show him to be calm, and no potentially hazardous processes are running."
"Cool. Take me to the Science Bros, please, Jarvis."
The ride up to Floor 81 may have involved a few more g-forces than a standard elevator should exhibit. Clint braced his legs and grinned.
The "general" lab didn't look very lab-y. The walls were pale blue, the windows had wooden mini-blinds, and there were ferns near the main door. All the equipment on the tables, though, looked shiny and new.
Banner was hunched over an elaborate microscope as Clint came through the door. "Hi, Clint," he said without looking up.
"Jarvis told us you were coming," said Stark from a recliner in the back of the lab. He held what Clint hoped was a Nerf rifle-and it was aimed at the back of Banner's head. Clint stopped before he put down his bow and quiver and wondered if he had packed any tranq arrows for training. He didn't think so.
Stark fired before Clint could react, and Banner flipped up a badminton racquet in the hand that had been hidden under the lab table. The Nerf rocket bounced off the racquet towards the couch against the wall.
"So is it the Big Guy watching your back?" Stark asked. "Or are there eyes under that fluffy hair?"
Banner did not look up. "It's my highly evolved Stark Is An Ass detection system."
"That would explain it."
Clint stared at Banner, then at Stark, then back. "This is how two of the allegedly greatest minds of the 21st Century spend their time?" He stashed his bow and quiver on the couch.
"Yup." Stark tried bouncing another Nerf rocket off the ceiling towards Banner, but the ceiling tile shifted, and the rocket headed for Clint. He caught it easily. "You're not going to give that back to me, are you. Grown-ups always confiscate my ammo."
"I shoot a bow and arrow for a living. I think that makes me not a grown up." The genius billionaire etc. actually pouted, and Clint debated lobbing the rocket right between his eyes. "I'll trade it to you for a phone call."
"You're not actually in prison," Banner said, looking up to fiddle with the settings of his microscope, "though you may feel a little held against your will on some days. You get more than one free phone call."
"You love being my captive, Brucey," Stark called as reloaded his Nerf weapon. "Who you gonna call, Legolas?"
"I want to call Steve Rogers." He tossed the Nerf rocket back to Stark, lodging it in the barrel of the rifle. "I don't know his number. Natasha thinks he knows about Phil."
Banner looked curious but not surprised, which told Clint that Stark had shared all with his science buddy.
"How is the fair Natasha?" asked Stark, who was studying the rocket in the barrel of his weapon with delight.
"She's doing well. Do you have Rogers' number?"
"Jarvis, dial up the good Captain. Label it from Barton, Cap tends to hang up on me."
From the corner of his eye, Clint saw Banner snicker.
"Mr. Barton," Jarvis said, "would you prefer to take this call in your apartment?"
Clint hesitated. "No, I'll take it here, but thanks for asking."
The call rang twice. "Rogers here."
Clint leaned back against Banner's lab table. "Hey, Cap, how you doing?"
"I'm fine, Clint, how are you?" There were voices in the background, and Steve sounded just a touch impatient.
"Doing good. I'm calling because I'm checking up on Natasha."
"Natasha?" Steve repeated, confused.
Throw them off their stride, come in on the information from a direction they don't expect. "Yeah, I talked to her a little bit ago, I wanted to see how she was after that op-which she told me nothing about, don't worry about that. But she's fussed at me for over-reacting when I was bandaging her guts back into her body, so I don't trust her when she says she's fine. I figured I'd double check."
Steve laughed. "Yeah, I've known people like that. She's fine, not a scratch on her. The only ones that got hurt were bad guys."
"You sure? One time she was reporting to Phil, and we didn't know what she was hiding till I noticed the chair back behind her was turning red."
"I promise, Clint, she was fine the last time I saw her. She was strolling out of the hanger and intimidating everyone she passed."
His voice was calm, reassuring, and even a little affectionate. That comforting Captain America voice that would have made Phil give that delighted little fanboy grin. Clint wondered if Phil had all his toys, wherever he'd been stashed.
Patient interrogation had never been his strong suit. "When did you know Phil was alive? Did Fury tell you?"
Stark and Banner both blinked at him, but Clint heard the noise of surprise Steve didn't completely mask. Surprise, not confusion.
"Phil-alive?" Steve said. "Uh, Clint, I'm sorry, I know you two were close, but we all know what happened on the heli-"
"Yeah, we know what happened up there. And I know what happened a couple of weeks after the carrier, when I talked to Phil in Medical, and I know what happened yesterday, when I talked to a man who spoke to Phil a few weeks ago. Natasha knows. She says you know, too."
He saw Banner watching him very carefully. Again, patient interrogation was not his strong suit. But he was pretty damned good at intimidation by tone of voice.
Steve sounded just a touch rattled. "Look, Clint, Fury called it, and he's never said anything different about what happened to Coulson."
"Fury's an expert liar, Cap," Stark said from his chair. "And you're a pisspoor one."
"Stark?" Steve said. "Whatever's going on, this is classified SHIELD business, this doesn't involve you."
Stark shot to his feet. "The fuck it doesn't involve me!" He stomped closer to Clint, as if he could crowd Steve's personal space over the phone. "Fury used Phil's death to push you and me into battle. He played us, and he didn't have to. But he manipulates easier than breathing, and I want to know why."
"Did you know?" Clint said with that flat tone that had made Colombian drug lords try to decide if Black Widow really was scarier than Hawkeye.
Steve hesitated, then sighed. "Yes, I knew. I don't know how they did it, but I knew he survived. About a year ago, Fury gave me a file on a strike team he was putting together to investigate possible metahumans and extraordinary occurrences. He thought it was possible I might run into them and he wanted me prepared. Phil's name was on the list, but Fury refused to talk about it. He let me yell at him about keeping secrets like this, then told me I'd better keep it too. So I have."
"And you didn't think any of us would want to know about that?" Stark said.
"I had my orders, Tony."
"You were just following orders, Cap? Is that really the excuse you want to use?"
"It's not an excuse, it's a reason! For all I knew, everyone else had already been informed and been told to keep their mouths shut, too!"
"So why not say anything!"
"Because I was told not to! You're not a soldier, Tony. But I am. For now, anyway. Look, Clint, I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but you know how it is."
Clint nodded. "Yeah, I know."
"I can't tell you anything about his strike force."
"That's OK," Stark said breezily, "we have other sources."
"Yeah, I just bet you do." Steve didn't sound that outraged at the idea. "That's probably a good thing." Stark raised a curious eyebrow. "I'm guessing you're going to try and find Agent Coulson, Clint?"
"Yes, I am. I'm a little worried about what the medical treatments may have done to him."
"I'm not going to be able to help you, there's stuff going on down here that I want to keep an eye on, but let him know I still owe him some autographs." He hesitated again. "Be careful where you go poking. It might not be a good time to be attracting attention."
Stark drew himself up and sniffed. "I am Tony Fucking Stark, I can't help but attract attention."
Steve laughed. "Yeah, I know. You always aim to misbehave."
Stark gasped and clutched Banner's shoulder. Banner likewise looked boggled. "Steve!" Stark said. "You just quoted Firefly! And you compared me to Captain Mal!"
"I do have a list of things to catch up on. Lots of people recommended Firefly. Don't let it go to your head."
"Quick, let's play 'Who am I on the crew of Serenity!'"
"Sorry, gotta go. Just-watch yourselves, everybody. And I'll keep an eye on Natasha for you, Clint."
Clint was remembering why he didn't mind taking orders from Mr. Wholesome. "More like she'll keep an eye on you, Steve."
"I depend on it. Good-bye, all." He hung up.
Stark wiped away an imaginary tear. "Our little boy, who was happy that he recognized a Wizard of Oz quote, all grown up."
"So," Bruce said, "is he Book? Noble and trying to do right but a badass under it all?"
"Maybe," Stark nodded. "Is Natasha Zoe or River?"
"Ooo, tricky. Jayne?"
"Nah, that's him." Stark nodded his head at Clint.
Clint sighed. "My bow is not named Vera." He went to collect his equipment. "I'm going to go get something to eat then hunt through mission reports to see if I can track Phil's strike force. You two-"
The brilliant, disturbing, mad scientists blinked at him.
"Don't cause any mayhem people will notice."
"That's a good rule," Banner said thoughtfully as the lab doors closed behind Clint.
He found the makings of a good, thick sandwich in his fridge and discovered the kitchen counter did double duty as a holographic projector as Jarvis displayed various documents on the care and feeding of a plane the size of the Bus. Maintenance and refueling logs gave him a trail back and forth across the country, with a few trips overseas. Some of the recurring damage reports and resupply lists certainly indicated that Phil's new life was no quieter than his old one.
He started cross-referencing weird news reports for the times and locations he could track for the Bus. "What are the conspiracy bloggers saying about men in black and potential metahumans, Jarvis? SHIELD can't shut down everybody all the time."
"There are dozens of bloggers who focus on secret government organizations and metahuman activity, sir. One called the Rising Tide is espe-warning! Director Nicholas Fury of SHIELD is under attack in Washington, D.C.!"
"What!" Jarvis didn't do jokes, though Stark could convince him to cooperate in minor practical jokes. Something like this . . .
"Paramilitary forces disguised as local police have assaulted Director Fury in his vehicle on the street. The attack is still ongoing."
"Disguised as police?" Clint jumped to his feet, then wondered what he could do, a few hundred miles away.
"Police Department communications indicate no dispatch of officers to the director's location. They are only beginning to respond to the reports from bystanders who have witnessed the attack."
"Do you have any visuals?"
"Mr. Stark is watching them in the lab."
He bolted for the elevator. "Then get me to the lab!"
