Warnings: Some language, violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers.

A/N: This chapter and the next one are the reasons this story took so long to complete in the first place. I revised and re-wrote so many different scenes so many times I nearly lost it. But here it is, and unfortunately, we are nearing the end of this wonderful adventure. But be sure to keep an eye out for my next multi-chap fic, which will be posted after this story, as it is complete! I will have a preview at the end of this story.

And special thanks to everyone who has reviewed, or added this to their favourites and alerts list, or simply anyone reading.

Chapter 7 - Prey

Barton walked back to the debriefing room in a slight daze. He'd been prepared to be stripped down and yelled at and punished; not this. Though, he supposed that Fury had always gone to bat for him. He'd done so since Phil had brought him aboard SHIELD when he was just a rebellious teenager, and continued to do so even after Loki had turned him against them all. Fury had gotten into trouble more than once with the Council for backing him up.

Everyone looked up expectantly as Clint re-entered the room.

"You're alive," Stark commented, surprised.

Clint regarded them all with slightly wide eyes. "He's not even going to put it on my file," he told them.

Stark leapt from his seat. "Wonderful. Now, let's get the hell back to the Tower. I don't know about any of you, but I am starving." He dashed out the door without waiting for anyone else.

Steve shot an exasperated look towards Tony's retreating back, but followed him out.

Clint frowned and rested a hand on his stomach. "I'm pretty hungry too. Do you always get this hungry after you change back, Bruce?" he asked the doctor, who looked at him in surprise. Clint had begun to divert his questions about his transformation to Banner because he was the only other one who knew what it was like to become something else. Even though their situations were like black and white, Clint didn't see the harm in trying to gather as much information as he could.

Bruce fiddled with his glasses. "I-I guess so. I don't really think about it."

"Hmm." Clint followed the rest of them out of the room and towards the garage where a SHIELD quinjet was waiting to take them back to the Tower. When they got in, Tony was already on his phone, making arrangements to have food delivered so that it would be there when they got home.

"Sweet," he muttered, lowering the phone from his ear. "I've got thirty-two dishes of Chinese on the way. That should satisfy all of you who have super eating powers…" he broke off and frowned at his phone. "Oh, no." He lifted it back to his ear and said in a falsely cheery voice, "Hey, Pep!"

The team listened in amusement as Tony tried to calm his girlfriend down. The conversation consisted of a lot of "I'm fine, Pepper. Honestly." And "I know, I didn't call. We had…things."

They landed on the roof of the Tower soon after, and Pepper came barrelling towards them, enveloping Tony in a crushing hug. Even so, afterwards she made sure the rest of the team was safe, and said so in as many words. Then she turned around and ushered them inside.

The food was all laid out on the table, and the team immediately dropped into their seats and dug in. Pepper continued to interrogate Tony, and he answered in short sentences in between bites.

The entire scene was surreal, Clint thought. The meal, the camaraderie, the bantering and the trading of jokes and light insults with this group was something Clint figured he'd never get used to.

He shook his head and grinned behind his drink as Natasha waved her fork threateningly at the billionaire after he'd said something fairly embarrassing to a now blushing Steve. Natasha had been immediately drawn to the soldier, and often took pity on him when he was lost in the new world or when Stark was picking on him.

Thor, from his seat beside Bruce, was regaling the scientist with stories from home, complete with over-emphasized arm movements, and Bruce ducked several potential headshots with a smile.

They had won the battle again today. There had been no casualties. Clint still had a job, and his friends – his friends – had stood up for him. Again. He didn't think he could ever get used to that notion.

He thought that for sure when they had discovered that something was wrong with him, that his DNA had been horribly mutated, that no one would want to be around him. He thought that they would want nothing to do with him. But they had stayed. They had even kept it a secret, when they really shouldn't have. And then he had become a hawk, and he for sure thought that they would drop him. He was a freak after all, right? They continued to surprise him. No one seemed to even bat an eye by the events that unfolded. Were they so immerged in the impossible and unseemly that nothing could faze them anymore? Maybe so, because all that the Avengers had done was hide Clint and his infliction further, and attempt to help him adjust. No running away involved.

He was still truly baffled by it all, but as he looked around the table at the shining, laughing faces of his team, he realized that maybe he didn't have to understand any of it. What was to really understand? They were all freaks, in a sense. And he was a part of this crazy, messed up, dysfunctional team that could almost be called a family, and perhaps that was all there was to it.

Clint figured that there was nowhere else he'd rather be.


Night had settled in New York and though there was a biting wind, Clint was perched on the roof as was his customary habit.

The air ruffled his light jacket and sent a chill through him, but he made no move to step inside. He enjoyed this weather, and he enjoyed sitting out at night, just watching the nightlife below him.

It wasn't as if he couldn't sleep. He just didn't want to. There was still too much going through his mind that he had to process and come to terms with that he doubted he would have much luck if he did try to sleep.

The creaking of the roof door drew him from his thoughts. He always came up here alone, and other than Natasha, he didn't think that anyone else knew he came up here. Either that, or no one else had any reason to venture to the roof. But as he turned to see his newcomer, he realized with great surprise that it was actually Thor, and by the way that the god headed straight for Barton, he had not come up to the roof for the view.

Barton really didn't know what to make of Thor. The first time he'd seen him was in New Mexico, but Thor had not seen Clint, and the two had only met briefly amidst the battle in New York three months ago. They still had yet to be properly acquainted.

Clint honestly liked the displaced demi-god. He wasn't kidding when he'd told Coulson that he was starting to root for the blonde man, even when he was kicking all of the agents' asses. Or maybe that was the reason he'd liked him. Despite not knowing him very well, Clint could immediately tell that Thor was open, honest, caring, and honest-to-god genuine. He spoke his mind no matter what, and Clint respected and craved that. It wasn't often in his line of work that he came across someone who was always willing to speak the truth and would never lie to you.

However, as always, seeing Thor made a knot twist in Clint's stomach, because the god of thunder never failed to bring a harsh reminder of Loki, and Clint did not want to delve into those memories. So while he wanted to get to know Thor and enjoyed the little time he'd spent with him, it also caused his emotions to clash and rock like a ship in a violent storm.

Thor slowed as he approached the agent, obvious discomfort and anxiety displayed on his face and the twitch of his lips. "Clint Barton," he rumbled in his deep voice, "I would have words with you."

Clint eyed Thor with undisguised surprise. He spoke calmly, but his words seemed to be weighed down, like they were literally heavy by what he had to say. "Yeah, sure buddy. What's up?"

Thor heaved a giant breath. "We have not yet had a chance to speak since the events that transpired," he began, and his eyes grew dark and troubled. "And while I know that you feel ill towards me, I hope that we can still become friends, for I consider you a brother. Whatever I can do to help, to ease your mind – "

"Whoa," Clint held up a hand to stop Thor's tirade, his mouth dropping open in shock. "Hang on there, Thor. I –" He stopped and ran a rough hand down his face. Jesus, he thought. "I don't hate you, Thor," he insisted. When Thor still looked confused, he repeated it with more force. "Honestly, I really don't."

A small smile broke onto Thor's serious face. "That is soothing to hear, I admit. I know that my brother's actions have greatly affected you, and though you may not be able to accept it, please listen as I say that I truly apologize." He once again became sombre, and reached out and laid his hands on Clint's shoulders. Clint was shocked. No one ever did that. "It may not mean anything, but I truly, wholly, apologize for what has happened."

"Thor, you don't need to apologize," Clint insisted. "It wasn't your fault, any of it. I don't blame you. Honestly, I understand." He sighed. "I…I get it. I know what that's like. I have a brother and…we don't speak. He…did something and…and he turned his back on me."

Thor listened in the darkness to the archer's confession. As little as he knew about the man, he did know that he was not one to admit just anyone into his confidence. Thor was honoured to be allowed a small glimpse into his life, but he was also saddened, for it did not seem like a happy memory. His friend's sad eyes and the rough edge to his words spoke of the story more than his words did. He nodded, squeezing his shoulder in understanding. "You are a noble and strong man, Hawk," he said. "I admire that." His words earned a small smile from the young man, but Thor knew it was the first real smile he'd seen on the man.


Two weeks passed by in relative peace. No alien attacks, no attempted assassinations, no world domination plots. In fact, it was so peaceful, that the Avengers nearly died from boredom and cabin fever. By the end of the two weeks they were almost pleading for someone or something to attack.

After the first week, Thor left for Asgard. He claimed that his father needed him for business, but he promised to return should they need him. The next week, Fury called them at two in the morning. And if there was one thing Clint hated more than a call from Fury at two in the morning, it was dealing with a cranky Stark at two in the morning. He was privileged to experience both.

Stark was still muttering scathing remarks as Fury's holograph was displayed on the wall. "Do you know what time it is?" he demanded from the Director. "I was having the most wonderful dream."

"There's a convoy coming from Mexico," Fury began without any preamble, cutting into Tony's rant. "And they're not planning on a tea party. They have enough explosives and weaponry to take over a small country. Our intel says they're mercenaries who've been in contact with some surviving HYDRA cells. Those weapons cannot fall into the wrong hands. Stark," he addressed the inventor, "I want you to disable and stabilize the explosives. Banner, this situation is delicate. You will stay in the helicopter until notified otherwise."

The Avengers donned their suits and headed to the roof to board the helicopter. The ride wasn't long, and as they approached the supposed base of the few leftover HYDRA agents, Tony pulled a small tablet from his pocket and frowned at the readings he received. "JARVIS, magnify," he ordered. "Heat sensors." He swore loudly at what he saw. "Jesus Christ."

Rogers caught the tablet thrown his way. He squinted at it for a moment before he realized just what he was looking at. His face darkened and he handed the tablet over to the assassins. "Looks like Fury's intel was lacking. This changes everything. That truck has too many small, cramped heat signatures to be soldiers."

Banner caught his eye. "Human trafficking." It was like a rock had lodged in his throat.

Captain America nodded stiffly. "Here's what we do: Banner, you will need to remain in the helicopter. We'll set you up with communications. Stark, you and I are going after the explosives. Barton, Romanoff, the two of you are responsible for getting the children out." Everyone nodded in agreement and as the helicopter lightly touched the ground, they jumped out before the aircraft rose back to the sky.

The four made their way towards the compound. The security was quite lax, as the HYDRA base was still in its early stages and lacking in soldiers.

Hawkeye and Black Widow crept around one corner, and with the flick of his wrist, Barton signalled to his partner to slip around the corner. Only two guards stood between them and the container where the children were being kept. They were quickly dispatched and the pair moved on.

Both trained their weapons on the container door as they approached from either side. Barton counted down on his fingers, and when he reached one, he reached out, grasped the handle, and opened the door.

The pair moved forward and were met with a dozen machine guns pointed at them.

Meanwhile, Captain America and Iron Man moved less swiftly, but no less efficiently, taking out the guards as they approached. It wasn't long before they found the entrance to the storage room where the explosives were being held.

The two slipped inside, and Rogers locked the door behind him. Stark flipped the mask of his suit up and surveyed the mass before him. He clapped his two gauntlets together. "All right, let's get rid of these babies." He took two steps forward when an alarm began to wail, and red lights flashed on the walls. He froze. "The hell - ?" He raised an arm and his repulsors whined as they charged.

Steve jumped forward, his arm raised, just as the door opened and men with more weapons charged in. "Stark, the explosives – "

Stark didn't hear. He let off a shot, clearing a hole in the charging mass, and simultaneously setting off a few of the explosives near the door. The door exploded in fire and flames, and sent the two Avengers tumbling and sliding to the back of the room.

Coughing and sputtering, Rogers rolled over, pushing through the broken glass scattered around his body. "Stark," he called. His palms sliced open on a few sharp shards as he pushed himself to his knees. "Stark – " he stopped as he looked straight into the muzzle of a gun.

The man behind it chuckled darkly. "Hello, mon Capitan," he said in a thick Spanish accent. "Fancy meeting you here." With a flick of his head, two of his henchman pulled Rogers to his feet. A few steps away, Stark was being roughly handled, several guns pointed at his uncovered face to make sure he didn't try anything.

There was more shouting in the hallway, and Rogers turned, his heart sinking as the Black Widow and Hawkeye were marched in, hands on their heads and guns sharp in their back.

The Spaniard clapped his hands in glee. "Oh, look at this. Four out of six Avengers." He turned, grinning back to the Captain. "Good for my first try, no?"

"Who the hell are you?" Stark snapped.

"Louis Artego," the man answered. He gestured to the room around them. "And this is my playground. The HYDRA men were just giving it away. And I needed someplace to put my toys." He hummed. "I did not expect to have company, however." He shrugged. "Oh, well, I am adaptable, if nothing else." He approached the super soldier, white teeth flashing against his dark skin. "Mm, Captain America and the Invincible Iron Man. This is good catch, no?" He turned back to the glaring assassins. "You? I do not need you. Josef! Carlos!" He pointed to the men holding the assassins at gunpoint. "I have no use for those two. Get rid of them. Outside. HYDRA would not be pleased with the mess."

Rogers felt his heart slam to a stop, watching the guards shove the resisting pair out the doors. "Hey, wait a minute," Steve said, but Artego shoved a gun into his temple.

Artego smiled. "Very sweet, mon Capitan, but they possess nothing that I want." He glanced between the other two Avengers. "But you, my friend, and this man," he gestured to Stark, "should bring me good money. The man who was found in the ice and the billionaire with the suit."

He was cut off from further gloating when the distant sounds of a commotion from outside could be heard. Artego smiled and Steve's blood froze as he heard two consecutive shots fire, and then nothing more.