A/N: Sequel to Taking a Chance. It contains massive spoilers for Captain America: The Winter Soldier. If you haven't seen the movie, some of what happens may not make sense.
Lady Pandora did the Beta. Any mistakes after that are all mine, which is SOP.
Ladygris has been experiencing some real life issues that are taking all of her time and energy. Prayer would be helpful. If you would like to send her a good-will message, I encourage you to do so. Thank you, on her behalf.
Namaste,
~Sandy
Avengers
A Hole in the World
Chapter 8
By his estimate, Clint had gone almost a half mile before calming down enough to think through his meeting with Anya.
The safe house had been created and stocked long before the mission to Budapest that gave Clint and Natasha very different memories. No doubt she'd been talking about fighting their way out when outnumbered by mercenaries. Such an event was SOP on most of their ops, and Clint barely gave it a second thought.
For him, the memory that stood out above the rest was Elisabeta Kakos. Meeting her hadn't been a part of the plan at all. A case of mistaken identity had put the vivacious older woman in the midst of an operation to stop their mark from selling illegal arms and ammunition stolen from a classified military base. The meeting with the mark had been scheduled to take place at a celebration being hosted by one of the interested parties, and Clint had to find a way to get himself invited. That's where Elisabeta had come in.
He put the memories aside when he realized that his subconscious had led him where he needed to be. Checking his look in the reflection of the glass, Clint rubbed a hand through his beard. When he first met Elisabeta, he had a goatee, and while she didn't say anything, he got the sense that she preferred clean-shaven men. So, standing in front of the mens clothing store, he made plans. Buy a suit and all the accessories, and while the alterations are being made, go to the barber shop for a haircut and shave.
He stepped inside the shop and was immediately set upon by an overdressed salesman who looked him over, wrinkling his nose as if he smelled something offensive. Clint had showered that morning so he knew it wasn't that.
"May I help you?"
In Hungarian, Clint said, "My luggage was lost by the airline. I have an important meeting to get to and need a suit, tie, shirt, shoes, socks. Everything."
Again, the man looked him over, and just as he was about to ask Clint to leave, the archer held up a wad of Euros that would choke a rhino. The man's eyes widened. "Of course, sir."
"I'll need it delivered to my hotel no later than seven."
"But, sir, the alterations alone will take…" Clint held up the cash again, and the man sighed, obviously torn, though only for a moment. "Seven, you said?"
Later That Evening
Standing in front of Elisabeta's building, Clint gazed up at the stylish façade, recalling the first time he'd seen it. She had sent a long, black limousine to pick him up at his hotel and bring him to her home.
Not much had changed since that day. Not here, anyway. Inside, Clint had changed quite a bit, especially since the invasion. He no longer took anything for granted except that his mind was filled with demons from the past. Now it was time to put one of those demons to rest.
Putting on a bored smile, Clint stepped into the lobby and gave his name to the concierge. After checking the list, Clint was permitted to enter. He walked to the end of the hall, made a left and stood for a moment in front of the subtly elegant door. He brushed a hand through his hair, now cut military short, and straightened his already perfectly aligned black and dark red tie. At exactly eight, he rang the bell.
The click of heels on hardwood floors approached and stopped. Anya opened the door and smiled brightly. "Thank you for coming, Mr. York." She stood back so he could enter, softly closing the door behind him and clasping her hands together in front. Her eyes took in the small bouquet of flowers he held in one hand, giving him a nod of approval for his good manners. She smiled brightly when he pulled three flowers free and handed them to her. For you, Anya, because…"
"Every woman should be given flowers for no other reason than because she's a woman." They both smiled in remembrance. "Elisabeta was very excited to hear you were back in town."
Having already made a visual recon of the foyer to ascertain that they were alone, Clint lowered his voice, "Are you sure she's up to having company? I can come back tomorrow."
"She's fine, and would like for you to join her in the library for a glass of wine before supper."
Clint knew the way, but allowed Anya to guide him. Before entering, he adjusted his cuffs, resisting the urge to do another hair check as Anya quietly walked away. When she was gone, he knocked and entered without waiting for a response. To do otherwise would not be his alias's MO. Not Clint's either, but that wasn't important. Elisabeta was the only thing that mattered, and for her, he would be Ryland York.
The Next Morning
In order to keep a low profile, Yates, Clint, Natasha and Bruce had taken rooms at a small out-of-the-way hotel. Hill had stayed one more night then returned to her cover position at Stark Industries, or so she said. To Natasha, it didn't quite ring true. The part about getting back to the States was accurate, that much she knew. However, it was her reason for leaving that Natasha didn't quite believe. Something more was going on. There just wasn't anything Natasha could do about it now. When they were all together again, she would corner her friend and demand an explanation.
Bruce groaned in his sleep, the hand on her stomach moving to her hip. With gentle encouragement, the hand was removed allowing her to slip out of bed and tiptoe into the bathroom. She came out dressed for the day and wanting coffee, however the rooms had only basic amenities that didn't include a coffee maker.
Getting her caffeine jolt from a restaurant would have to do until they moved into the safe house where they'd stay while planning how to bring back SHIELD using the information given to them by Fury. The building could hold up to twenty people in a pinch, if they didn't mind stepping on each other's toes once in a while. Because they'd never envisioned the end of SHIELD, Natasha and Clint hadn't made provisions for more. The rest would have to find accommodations elsewhere. And Natasha would be the one to make the decision about who bunked at the Bunker-she snorted at the pun-and who didn't.
As she stood there debating if she should wake Bruce, she heard soft footsteps in the hall. Going to the door, she listened for a moment then eased it open a crack. Clint had a keycard in one hand and his vest in the other. His shirt was wrinkled and untucked, the top two buttons open to show a small amount of curly chest hair. He ran a hand through already messy hair making it stand up even more. She was about to call out a snarky remark to tease him about spending the night with Elisabeta again, but changed her mind at the look on his face. It was not the look of a man who had spent a passionate night with a woman.
Clint's door clicked closed and Natasha decided to wait a bit before knocking so he wouldn't know she'd seen him coming in. She went to get her wallet, and had just shut the door to the room she shared with Bruce when she heard the crash of something breaking against the wall of Clint's room. Her partner seldom allowed his emotions to rule his actions. Only something deeply emotional would've caused such an intense reaction. She knew he wouldn't want to talk about it, and respected his decision, unless it started to interfere with other priorities. Right now, their main concern was getting SHIELD and the intelligence network up and running again before America's enemies took advantage. Anything else came in second place or lower. Except family. For Natasha, SHIELD was her family, and she would do whatever she had to in order to protect them.
As a group, the SHIELD agents had no firm plans for the day beyond waiting for more to arrive. Before Hill left, they'd made the decision to wait one more day before beginning the move to the safe house. Well, it wasn't exactly a house though it was safe.
Once they had everyone moved in, they'd see what supplies were needed and hand out assignments from there. The armory was fully stocked, that much Natasha knew. However, if more than twenty-five agents showed up, there wouldn't be enough weapons to go around. Considering the nature of their profession, Natasha wouldn't be surprised if the others had made similar provisions in case of an emergency, though none of them could have foreseen the re-emergence of HYDRA or that it would bring about the fall of SHIELD.
Several of the agents who made it to Budapest had brought sketchy intel on the crews of the Insight helicarriers. While the first two had been taken down relatively easily, the third had crashed into the Potomac killing most of the crew. How many had been HYDRA, there was no way to know at this point. Nor could they even begin to hazard a guess as to how many loyal agents had died due to being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Natasha let her subconscious work on the problem while the rest of her ordered coffee to go. Yates was already in the diner, drinking tea and reading from a tablet. Peeking over her shoulder, Natasha saw that she was performing the job she'd been assigned: scanning the news for information on their mutual headache. Her frustrated snort as she scrolled indicated that she hadn't found much. A quick glance around, and Natasha had picked out at least five other agents, all busily engaged in one pursuit or another. A man and a woman, were sitting with their heads together, smiling and laughing. They looked like a couple though Natasha knew for a fact that the man was married to another SHIELD agent, and the woman was engaged to someone outside the business. The pair had been partners for years, making their intimate conversation look real.
Another, a man dressed casually and sitting at the counter, sipped coffee while reading the newspaper, and the last two, a man and a woman, both in booths and wearing business clothing, used their phones as they ate. None of them gave Natasha more than a cursory glance.
She accepted three steaming cups of coffee and returned to the hotel. Stopping first at Clint's door, she paused to listen. Movement indicated that he wasn't asleep or in the shower. Rapping gently, she took a step back when the door was flung open to show her partner wearing nothing but a towel, his hair and upper body still damp. "What?"
Without a word, Natasha handed him one of the cups, giving him a sympathetic smile that told him all he needed to know, that she was available if he wanted to talk. "John and I will be going to breakfast soon, if you'd like to join us."
For a moment, she thought he would refuse. That he'd spend the day brooding just like he'd done on the trip back to SHIELD all those years ago. Then, he took the cup. "I'll meet you there. The diner?"
"Actually, I was thinking of that little café just off the river. Thirty minutes?" The restaurant she mentioned was the halfway point between the hotel and the safe house.
Clint sipped the coffee, closing the door after giving her a short nod. She turned to see Bruce watching her from their door. He waited for her to enter, closed the door, and accepted a kiss and the coffee, in that order. "He okay?"
"No." Bruce sat on the end of the bed to put his shoes on while Natasha watched. She had witnessed his transformation on three separate occasions and still marveled that the Hulk lived inside this kind and loving man. Maybe it wasn't so amazing. Everyone had inner strength just waiting to be unleashed. "He should be dressed by now. Let's go to breakfast. We're meeting Yates and Clint at the restaurant."
Bruce shoved his arms into a light jacket and zipped the front up halfway. "SHIELD gives all their secret bases names. What's this one called?"
Rolling her eyes, Natasha opened the door and Bruce closed it behind them. "The Bunker."
"Really? Couldn't come up with anything more original?"
"It's not like we didn't try. Clint wanted to call it The Batcave." Bruce wrapped an arm around her shoulders, dropping a kiss on her temple. "What's that for?"
He snorted a laugh. "Not letting him call it that or the Fortress of Solitude."
Natasha joined him in the amusement. "He tried that one too, but I put my foot down."
They walked out to the front of the hotel and requested a cab. Soon, the couple had reached the café overlooking the Danube and was being shown to a table. Clint arrived a few minutes later followed by Yates and several other agents, all taking seats near enough to hear and speak to each other, making it seem like an accident. When breakfast and conversation were over, the agents left the restaurant one or two at a time.
~~O~~
To keep from arousing suspicion, Clint was the first to check out of the hotel. He would then go to the safe house, open everything up and make it ready to receive guests. He and Nat had agreed to call it The Bunker. Not original, but she'd nixed all of his ideas. What was wrong with calling it the Batcave or the Fortress of Solitude? Okay, so that last one was a misnomer because it was unlikely anyone would ever be there alone.
Clint took a cab to a business several miles from his destination then cut through the wooded area surrounding what was to be their haven. His last couple of trips through Europe, he'd stopped to do upgrades to the computer systems and basic maintenance just to make sure everything would be ready if needed. And now that day was here.
The brick and concrete building looked abandoned, the exterior showing the ravages of time and the elements. However, as Natasha was fond of saying, looks could be deceiving. Going around to the back, Clint jumped a rusty ten-foot metal fence and went to the loading dock door. Attaching a small electronic device to the lock, he tapped in a code and a moment later, a panel opened to his right. He swiped his hand over the smooth metal plate. It scanned his fingerprints and DNA, comparing both to the database. There was a click, and a hidden door opened. He stepped inside, and the door closed.
Flicking on a flashlight to illuminate the dark hallways, Clint made his way down a long corridor. There were metal doors on both sides and bare pipes and light fixtures in the ceiling. Turning to the left, he again used the lock device to open another door. Inside, he shone the light around seeing nothing but dust, cobwebs and an entire wall of breaker boxes, each one labeled. One at a time, he flipped the handles into the on position. The last one turned on the lights in the breaker room showing Clint that the dust wasn't nearly as bad as it seemed at first.
Following the hallway, he went around the corner to the main environmental controls, switching that on as well. A cool breeze whispered over his skin as the mustiness was slowly replaced by fresh air.
He left by a different door, taking the stairs two at a time up to the next level and down the hall. He turned right at the junction and kept going until coming to the front of the facility where the cafeteria, front offices, lobby and employee locker rooms were located. Over a period of more than a year, Clint and Natasha had stocked the Bunker with everything they might need to stay off the grid for up to two months. With more people, other arrangements would have to be made. There were a few beds, but mostly just blankets, sheets and pillows. If anyone needed more than that, it would have to be brought in later, though Clint doubted anyone would make a fuss.
Taking out one of a hoard of burner phones, Clint used it to send the all-clear to Natasha and Banner. These days, they were nearly inseparable. For some reason, that led him to think of Elisabeta and the talk they'd had the night before.
The news about Elisabeta's health had been a blow. He'd developed a genuine affection for the older woman after only a few days' acquaintance. She was all the things that Natasha was without the element of danger. In Elisabeta's presence, Clint felt that he could be himself, even if she thought he made his living as a gigolo. She had made it clear from the beginning that he was there just so she wouldn't have to go to the party alone. He was arm candy and a handsome companion that would entertain her friends. Nothing more.
This particular gala was the event of the season. Like the Cattleman's Ball in Texas, everyone who was anyone made an appearance. And with her husband gone for only a few months, Elisabeta hadn't had the desire to cultivate a relationship with a man to the point that they attended society functions together.
Clint smiled, remembering the first time he laid eyes on Elisabeta. She was sitting at a table on the patio of the same café where Anya had approached him. Elisabeta had mistaken him for the real Ryland York, an American living in Budapest who made a marginal living as an escort for rich older women. Because she needed an escort for the very event Clint had to get into, he'd agreed to go with her. Elisabeta had been vivacious, spirited and effervescent. She had been trying to move on from the death of her husband and make a new life for herself without him, but it wasn't easy, and Clint understood. Eventually, he'd coaxed her out of the funk she'd been in, and the night had gone much smoother from there.
Then, once the mission had been completed and his report had been filed, Clint had stayed in Budapest a few extra days just to spend time with Elisabeta. That last night, he'd offered himself to her, and she'd accepted. Afterward, he waited until she'd gone to sleep, pulled the covers up around her neck, kissed her forehead and left through the library door. By the time she got up, he was in a plane over the Atlantic Ocean, and that had been the last time he'd seen her until last night.
Pushing those thoughts away, Clint got down to the business of making the Bunker ready for occupancy. There were only a few rooms that could be used for sleeping, and Clint set about moving things around so that Natasha and Banner had an actual bed in a room that had a door they could close for privacy.
Glancing at the time, he decided a walk-through was needed just in case something had gone wrong since the last time Natasha had been here. When the others showed up, he'd assign someone to inventory the food just for something to do. Most of the food supply consisted of MREs and protein bars that had a long shelf life. Anything that had expired would be checked, i.e. Clint would eat one to make sure it was still edible, before returning it to the cafeteria just in case they needed it.
Next, his mind turned to clothing. There was no way to know how long they'd be holed up here, though one of the advantages to using an abandoned power plant was that it was so far out of the city that the nearest neighbor was more than a mile away. No one would be around to see them coming and going. They would need something to wear. A trip to the thrift store was in order, if Budapest had anything like that.
Moving on to the control room, Clint pulled the dust covers off the equipment and tossed them in a corner out of the way. The stairs from the lower level came up in the middle of the room for some reason he hadn't been able to figure out. Banks of consoles in a light green color circled the perimeter of the oval shaped room. The size of the room was just over eighteen meters or sixty feet in length by six meters or twenty feet wide. Off to one side was a small shack-like thing that neither Clint nor Natasha had been able to open leaving its purpose and contents a mystery. An old desk sat in the middle of the room near the railing that surrounded the opening for the stairs. To the left and right, corridors branched off, the one to the left toward a part of the plant that had been locked with heavy metal doors. Again, they hadn't been able to find a way to breech them.
Walking around the room, he hit a button on each console, waiting until the panel flipped and the sixties-era controls were replaced by state-of-the-art computers. That done, Clint moved to the outer part of the plant and sent a message to Natasha to let her know that Operation Exodus was a go.
~~O~~
The small hotel where the agents had taken refuge wasn't anywhere near being a four- or five-star facility. Defense consisted of a lone security guard who spent most of his shift sitting behind the front desk in the lobby watching television or dozing. Once an hour, he would take a quick turn around the perimeter and return. At exactly twelve noon, he would take his lunch from the mini 'fridge in the back and eat while reading the paper.
At the moment, Lorinc's backside was firmly planted on the tall chair he used in lieu of the barstool he'd originally been given, his eyes glued to the television as he watched the World Cup Finals. He didn't cheer for any particular team. Just watched the screen, drank coffee and made the occasional trip to the bathroom.
"Jó reggelt," the courier said as he stepped up to the desk. The clerk had gone into the back asking Lorinc to keep an eye on things, but not to sign for anything. "I have a package for the manager, Mr. Varga."
"I'll go get Kata." The guard reluctantly slid off his seat.
"My apologies. I can only accept a signature from the person for whom the package is intended."
Nodding, Lorinc went into the back. As soon as the door closed behind him, the courier turned the computer terminal around, inserted a USB drive and tapped a few commands. Within a few seconds, the hotel's entire database had been downloaded. He turned the computer back and shoved the drive into his pocket just as Kata and the manager appeared. The man signed for the package and soon the courier was back in his truck. As he pulled up to the light, he tapped the Bluetooth in his right ear. "I have the information and will deliver it to your location in one hour. Hail HYDRA."
~~O~~
The next day, Barton met Natasha and Bruce at the main entrance off the loading dock instead of the plant's front door. That would be too conspicuous. The others would be coming in a couple at a time and Clint asked Natasha to take care of it while he gave Bruce a quick tour.
Bruce got that Barton wanted to talk to him privately, and so did Natasha or she'd never have agreed. He followed the agent through the echoing corridors of the plant, listening as he pointed out items of only passing interest like a tour guide.
As they climbed a set of utilitarian stairs, Bruce looked up and saw the most astonishing sight.
When they reached the main control room, all Bruce could do was stare with his mouth open as he turned in a circle. The ceiling was made of translucent white panes of glass. At least he assumed it was glass. There was no way to tell without closer inspection. The panes were set in a design that made them look like the stained glass roof of a cathedral, except that they were all the same pearlescent white, each showing minute variations.
The sunlight filtered through giving the room a diffused light and filling him with a sense of peace. The green of the walls helped with the feeling of being inside a blossoming flower. "Wow."
Barton smiled. "Yeah. I know."
A gentle hand squeezed Bruce's shoulder, urging him down the right corridor branching off the control room, their footsteps echoing here as well. Barton came to a stop in front of a door labeled in Hungarian. Bruce recognized the word for section, but not the rest. Without fanfare, the door was opened to show the small room had been set up with a twin bed, a file cabinet as the bedside table, a desk lamp and a larger file cabinet taking on the work of the dresser. A mirror that had obviously been taken from one of the bathrooms was propped against the wall on top. "What's this?"
"We can't access most of the plant so some of us will have to share sleeping quarters. This is the best I could do to give you and Nat some privacy." Barton looked like he had more to say, and Bruce gave him the time he needed to work up to it. "Look, I know you and Nat…she's…" Barton made a sound of frustration that Bruce understood completely as someone who didn't deal well with his emotions. "What I'm tryin' to say is I see how happy you've made her and I want to thank you for that."
"It's a two-way street, Clint. We make each other happy." Shoving his hands into his pockets, Barton leaned against the wall and stared at the floor for what seemed a long time. He was building up to something. Bruce just had to give him time.
Barton crossed his ankles and brought one hand out to rub the back of his neck. "Can I talk to you about something, doc? Man to man."
Nodding, Bruce crossed his arms. "Sure."
"It's not…I can't talk to Nat about it and the staff shrinks are off limits for now."
"I'm not a psychologist, Clint. Don't know how much help I can be."
Again he rubbed the back of his head. "Just need to say this out loud. To get it out of my head, I guess. I've been thinking a lot about Adele lately, about the things that were left unsaid. Is that weird?"
Still not certain he could help, Bruce shrugged. "Who's to say what is and isn't weird? Not me. But if your relationship with Adele is bothering you then I'd be happy to share my thoughts." Barton gestured for Bruce to continue. "Personally, I don't think it's weird at all. No matter what relationship the two of you had, the abrupt ending virtually assured that you'd go through the stages of mourning. I'd say you were in stage three: bargaining or the 'if only' stage, and headed for stage four."
"If only what? If only I hadn't canceled our date she wouldn't have been on duty at the time of the accident? It wasn't like I had a choice. It was a mission, and she understood."
"I'm sure she did. But some part of you believes that if you hadn't gone on that mission, the two of you would've been at the movies or having dinner when the accident occurred and she wouldn't have died. Don't blame yourself. If she hadn't died, someone else would've been killed in her place. Just remember, everything we do has consequences whether we know it or not. If I had been three feet farther away, the boy whose life I saved might be dead, or he could be the one who was turned into the Other Guy."
Barton thought over what Bruce had said, his thumb and forefinger pulling at his lower lip. "So what happens after bargaining? I'd like to know what I'm in for."
"The five stages are denial and isolation, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. You'll still think of her for a while, but it won't be as painful as it is right now. Then one day, years from now, you'll realize you hadn't thought of Adele in months. You'll miss her, but it will be more nostalgia than sadness."
Barton pushed off the wall to pace back and forth. He came to a stop facing Bruce. With a nod, he said, "Thanks, doc."
Bruce smiled sadly on the agent's behalf. "No problem. Let's get back to the tour."
With cheerfulness that Bruce knew to be false, Clint handed him a map, using the hard copy to indicate points of interest, like the cafeteria and the showers.
A Few Days Later
All of the SHIELD agents who'd made it to Budapest were now within the walls of the Bunker. And Natasha had admitted only to herself, and to Bruce, that they could've given it a better name. Too late now, she thought. Once we leave, this bridge will be burned.
Natasha was on duty in the control room monitoring for messages from other agents around the world. So far, there had only been a few who'd tried to make contact on the emergency frequency. Each member of the team was taking turns, and now it was hers. She glanced at the clock to verify the time and found that someone would be relieving her soon. Hard on the heels of that thought came a beep from the console to her right. In addition to the emergency channel, there was another that only the most senior agents had knowledge of, meaning her, Clint and Hill.
She hooked the Bluetooth over her left ear and tapped it. "Romanoff."
"It's Hill. I've got some intel, but you're not going to like it. Neither will Barton."
Natasha closed and locked the door that led to the residential area then returned to her seat. "Let's hear it."
"One of our people took it upon himself to pose as a HYDRA agent when the **** hit the fan. He sent us a list of their people just before he hit the bricks. And not just those with SHIELD. Every HYDRA agent on the planet. I've spent the last twenty-four hours going over it with the new director."
The knowledge that her friend knew the identity of the new director piqued Natasha's interest more than the intel stolen from HYDRA. "The new director? Who is it? Fury wouldn't say."
Hill sighed in that world-weary way she had. "You know I can't tell you that. However, I have information that will be of particular interest to Barton."
Though Hill's voice was inflectionless, Natasha's senses went on alert. "What info?"
There was a short pause then, "Adele Wolfe was HYDRA."
TBC
