A/N: 2012 winner of NaNoWriMo contest and exclusively Beta'd by the wonderful ladygris. Again, no more teasers to the end of Part Two.

Namaste,

~Sandy

Avengers

As Time Goes By

Chapter 8

In a suburb of Chicago, Naomi pushed both hands through her hair, still not used to the shorter length. She'd kept it long because her boyfriend had liked it that way, but now that they were no longer together, she saw no reason not to change it to a style that was easier to maintain. Not to mention that having it cut was a symbol, a way of starting over…again.

New hair and a new home were just the beginning. The next order of business was on the desk in front of her, a copy of her birth certificate with her father's name. The last time she'd seen Nicholas Ray Alden had been on her fifth birthday. He stopped by just long enough to drop off a gift and left while she had been distracted by the Barbie Dream House he'd brought her. After a faltering hug, he and her mother had talked. And that was the last time she'd seen him.

She wanted the new life she was fashioning for herself to include her father. That is if he wanted to be a part of it. The only way to find out was to locate him and present herself to him as an adult. Though at the moment, she still felt like that little girl who missed her daddy, still not understanding why he'd never returned. As a child, she'd envisioned all sorts of fantastic scenarios that kept him from her from slaying dragons to being hit by a car and having amnesia to being a super-spy. As she got older, those notions faded and were replaced with the truth as she saw it. Yes, she had "daddy" issues, but she didn't let them interfere with her other relationships. Her mother had been there night and day and never once said a word against her father. Not once in all the years he'd been gone.

Well, Father. You're gonna have to deal with me sooner or later.

Pulling the keyboard close, Naomi typed Alden, Nicholas Ray and hit Enter. Within seconds she had numerous results including MySpace and Facebook, but none were the one she was looking for. She tried different spellings as well as leaving out the middle name and still nothing.

Then a news video imbedded in the browser page caught her attention. She clicked to enlarge it, peering close at the videos of the devastation in New York. A man with brown hair, dressed in black and red and shooting a bow and arrow appeared on the screen. The video was grainy and wavered showing that it had been taken with a cellphone.

Pausing the playback, she stared with wide and barely comprehending eyes at the picture displayed there. In just a few months it would be twelve years since she'd seen that face. Lines of weariness surrounded his eyes and mouth as he fought the alien invaders with the same intensity and grim determination she'd seen when he'd killed her stalker, but without the fear. The fear had been replaced with…nothing. And though he'd aged twelve years, he was even more attractive now than he had been when she knew him.

She didn't need the banner scrolling across the bottom of the screen to tell her it was Clint though it gave his name as Clint Barton AKA Hawkeye. The redhead fighting alongside him was Natasha Romanoff AKA the Black Widow. If there had been even a shred of doubt as to his identity, it was shattered by the vision of him spinning an arrow like a baton and using it to stab one of the aliens only to be tackled to the ground by another. Natasha performed some amazing hand-to-hand, relieving one alien of its weapon and using that to take out several more.

Naomi gasped as Clint slid across the ground on one knee, his bow primed to deliver a deadly assault, pulling the arrows from his quiver and firing them almost faster than she could see. And as he'd told her, he never missed a target. They were joined by Captain America and a blond man who fell from the sky amid bolts of lightning that took out the remaining aliens, the intensity and focus reaching her even through the computer.

The video stopped there, but she'd seen more than enough to know that everything she thought she knew about the Clint she'd loved so many years ago had been just the tip of the iceberg. Unable to watch anymore, she closed the browser and opened another. Starting with Clint Barton and Hawkeye, she avidly read everything she could find, which wasn't much. There was a gap of several years between him leaving the Coney Island Circus and when she met him at the college.

She moved on to Natasha Romanoff, Black Widow, Thor, Steve Rogers, Captain America, Tony Stark, Iron Man and Avengers, her mind filling up with such incredible information that she soon became overwhelmed. When she couldn't take any more in, she made each page a favorite so she could come back to it later.

Going back to her original search, she stopped just five minutes later completely frustrated. No matter how she worded the search, she couldn't locate the correct Nicholas Ray Alden. She wanted to read more about the Avengers, but all the time on the computer had given her a headache.

Picking up her cell, she called her mother telling her what she'd seen and read about Clint. Gina didn't seem to be surprised, but then she'd been closer to the epicenter of the invasion and may have even been able to see some of the events from home. The part that irritated Naomi was that her mother didn't seem to be upset or surprised to find out that Clint had been lying to her about nearly everything he'd told them. "We have to talk, Mother. I'll be there in a couple of hours."

"I'm not up to company, dear. Can we make it another time?"

"What's wrong? You sound…odd."

A long sigh came from the speakerphone. "Do you remember Clint's cousin, Phil?"

"Yes. I also remember they weren't really cousins. What's the point?"

Naomi heard the pop of a cork then the gurgle of liquid being poured. "Phil and I had been seeing each other off and on for a few years. He ended it when he met someone else. Phil was killed by that creepy alien, what was his name? Uh, Loki. Well, I received a letter from Phil today. It had been given to his attorney to be delivered on the event of his death."

"Oh, Mother. I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do?"

"No, dear. Talk later?"

What could Naomi say? "Of course. Get some rest." She hit the end key and sat there staring at her phone thinking.

A few days later, she watched a press conference led by the mayor of New York. He blamed the Avengers for the destruction of the city totally ignoring the fact that the citizens of Earth had just found out that there is life out there and some of it was hostile. But it was what she saw in the background that stoked her curiosity. He was a part of the crowd, standing with his hands clasped behind his back. The black longcoat billowed slightly in the breeze stirring a long forgotten memory.

Hooking the Bluetooth over her ear, Naomi made a quick call. "Norman? Naomi Marks…thank you…I'm fine…sorry to bother you at home, but I need your help…Yes…I'm sending you a video. Can you enhance and isolate the faces of the crowd in the background without losing resolution? Great! There's a man left center wearing all black…Yes. And can you do one more thing for me?" While she outlined her second request, Naomi sent the link to the head of IT at the institute then waited impatiently for his return call.

She was just about to make another pot of coffee when someone knocked on her door. Checking the peephole, she saw a slender woman with dark hair and an older man. The woman had to know she was being watched because she took out a badge and held it up. FBI.

Naomi opened the door, but left the screen locked. Not that it was much of a deterrent if either of them wanted to get in, but it gave her a small amount of control in a world that had just been pushed out of its safe little orbit. She eyed them suspiciously.

"Dr. Naomi Marks?"

"Yes."

The woman's voice was well modulated and strong. Used to giving orders and having them obeyed instantly. "My name is Special Agent Maria Hill and this is Dr. Eric McNeil. May we have a few moments of your time?"

She opened the door and ushered them to the living room. She'd just moved into her new condo. The furniture was in place but boxes were stacked around the room making it look cluttered and chaotic. With an inward rueful grin, she realized that it mirrored the way her mind felt at that moment. "Coffee?"

"No, thank you. We're here at the request of the World Security Council."

That didn't make sense to her. She hadn't done anything worthy of being investigated or questioned by government agents. "What could I have done to draw the attention of the FBI and this council?"

Hill rushed to assure Naomi, "This is a job offer, Dr. Marks. Not an interrogation."

Stunned, Naomi could only stare for a few heartbeats. "Are you really FBI?"

"If you're in doubt, you could call the local FBI office." Hill was unfazed by Naomi's skepticism.

"Sorry. It's just…forget it. You said something about a job?"

McNeil leaned forward. "You're at the top of a very short list and your services are urgently needed."

"By whom?"

"Your country…and your world."

After the things she'd seen in the last hour, Clint and that video of the mayor, Naomi was certain she couldn't possibly handle another shock. Yet here it was. "Um…okay."

~~O~~

"What's the matter, Legolas? Never been in love before?"

Stark's offhand comment had sent Clint on a backwards spiral into his past that seemed to last forever, but in reality had only been a few seconds. Sometimes the old injuries ached, like today, though it may have been a manifestation of the remembered pain. He shrugged. A small twitch of one shoulder. "Once."

"Wanna talk about it?" Clint didn't answer and Stark waved his free hand. "It's not my idea. Pepper thinks we should talk about everything."

"Long time ago."

Turning to face Clint, Stark leaned his left elbow on the railing. Below, the evidence of Loki's attack and the destruction of the device that Selvig had used to open the portal was slowly disappearing. Wiped away by the rebuilding of the city. "C'mon, Barton. Pepper's gonna grill me and I gotta give her something. How about a name?

Thinking it over, Clint couldn't see a trap or any reason not to tell him. "Naomi."

"She hot?"

Clint finished off his beer and set the bottle on the floor at this feet a reminiscent smile coming to his face. "Very."

Going back inside, Stark returned within seconds with fresh bottles for each of them. "What a coincidence. Fury's daughter's name is Naomi."

Not betraying the least bit of surprise that Stark knew something that no one else did about SHIELD's enigmatic director, Clint said, "Didn't know he had a daughter."

"Posted it on my Facebook page and on Twitter. You really gotta get a page and Friend me if you wanna keep up, Legolas."

Clint sighed as it began to sprinkle. "Not into all that social networking crap." Eventually, Stark gave up trying to draw him out and went back inside leaving Clint alone with his thoughts.

~~O~~

The past few days had been a whirlwind of meetings and conferences with people who only appeared on a viewscreen, their identities hidden by shadows. In the end, Naomi found herself with the most challenging position she'd never imagined, ministering to the emotional health of government agents. If all the staff were like Hill and McNeil, she had her work cut out for her.

It would take a few days to get all of the paperwork in order so here she was back in her condo trying to decide what to take and what to leave behind. She opened boxes and put everything away as quickly as she could, then packed a third of her clothes and just a few of her personal possessions.

When the car service called to say they were on the way, she hurried into the second bedroom and opened the box that contained the sentimental remnants of her life. Taking out the photo album she hadn't opened in years, she shoved it in with the digital photo album of Serene, Donny and their daughter Elyse, her mother alone, the two of them together and a group picture from a long ago Memorial Day Weekend barbeque with friends, and her diplomas. She didn't know what her office would look like, picturing it as a typical utilitarian government office. Whatever. She was ready.

~~O~~

Now that the threat of Loki and the Chitauri was gone, the rebuilding was under way. Humans were a resilient species, highly adaptable, and they would adapt to the knowledge that they weren't alone in the universe.

And just like a good neighbor, Clint did his duty, directing clean-up crews and helping as much as he could, using the backbreaking work to keep from thinking about the loss of his friend Phil Coulson and all the other agents whose deaths for which he held himself accountable. Bits and pieces of that time came back, but many holes remained unfilled leaving even more blank spaces in his memory to go with the ones from his detainment and torture at the hands of the Consortium. The things he did remember seemed to be what Loki wanted him to remember. None of it good.

When the repairs to the residential and lab areas of Stark Tower had been completed, Stark offered each member of the team a room. Because his apartment had been one of the casualties of the war, Clint agreed. Though to call the luxurious suite he'd been given a room would have been an understatement.

The bedroom alone was bigger than his old apartment. The kitchen was state-of-the art with all the bells, whistles and just about everything else he didn't know he would need to make a gourmet meal even though the only person he cooked for these days was Natasha. He hadn't made lasagna in years though.

The refrigerator was fully stocked as were the cabinets. And he wasn't at all surprised to see that Stark had included a hefty supply of his favorite coffee. If the billionaire could break into SHIELD's network, he could get that bit of info easy. All he had to do was ask Natasha. And Nat being the good friend she was would spill all if she thought it would help Clint recover.

Until the work had been completed, Clint and Natasha had stayed on the helicarrier. Rogers had gone back to Brooklyn to see what he could salvage from his apartment. Like Clint's, there hadn't been much left, but he'd stayed on to help his neighbors get back on their feet.

One thing Clint had been able to salvage from his apartment was some of the equipment he used to make his specialized arrows. He could get the everyday kind anywhere, but the rest he had to make himself or have them made. Stark had provided him with a workspace to do just that and the means to mass produce them once they had been tested. He guessed that, in a way, he was a scientist and a mathematician too though he'd never admit it, preferring actions to words.

Clint also thanked whatever God was listening that the nightmares of his time as Loki's slave were few. Maybe due to the fact that he fell into bed each night exhausted from the work he was doing. It was his assignment to oversee a repair crew. Sitting on the sidelines had never been his style. He couldn't help getting down and dirty to get the work done. And if that was what kept the bad dreams at bay, then so be it.

Only now, Fury had insisted that he take some time off before he suffered a physical collapse. The two men hadn't agreed, seldom did, but in the end, Clint knew the director of SHIELD was right. They all needed rest.

With nothing to do but rebuild his arsenal of arrows, the nightmares grew steadily worse until one night he awoke tangled in the sheets with Natasha shaking him, the concern in her eyes terrible to see. Panting as if he'd just run the Boston marathon he didn't say a word. She just crawled into bed with him and held him close for the rest of the night.

It happened again and again, but other than that first night, he turned down her offers of physical comfort. She wasn't offering sex and he wouldn't have taken her up on it if she had, but just having someone close to hold onto had helped alleviate the terror. He just didn't want to rely on someone else to take that away. It made him feel weak, as if he couldn't handle a few bad dreams.

Erickson resigned her position without notice three days before and hadn't yet been replaced. It was just as well. The open hostility he'd sensed from her had been a hindrance to her ability to help him and he was glad to see her go. Though now he had no one he could talk to, that would listen objectively. Natasha and the rest of the team, they tried, but his friends could only do so much. He didn't know Thor that well. Stark and Banner had their own demons to deal with. And Rogers…he was spending his days and nights in the bombed out shell of his apartment to protect and defend his neighborhood, returning to the tower infrequently.

As the tentative day he was due to return to duty approached, Clint's anxiety level increased until he was sleeping only a few hours at a time, if at all. And when he would awaken from yet another nightmare, he would climb to the top of Stark Tower and just sit watching the stars, what few he could see through the pollution and bright lights of the city. Some nights, like tonight, they seemed to mock him, blinking and twinkling as if they hadn't a care in the world while his personal demons ravaged his mind, tearing down the walls he'd spent years erecting around his emotions leaving them raw and exposed.

It didn't help that Erickson had up and quit without notice. They had a session late in the afternoon on one day and she was gone the next. She'd simply tendered her resignation effective immediately.

Natasha had grilled him on what he could have done to provoke Erickson, but he promised her that he'd behaved since the day she made him apologize. It had also helped that Erickson had worn slacks from that day forward instead of the skirts. He wasn't crazy about her or the orders from Fury to be treated by the psychologist, but he had to admit that it helped to have someone to talk to even if she wasn't objective.

Years ago, he'd found someone that had begun the lengthy process of breaking through those barriers. Apparently it wasn't meant to be or they'd be together now. But the kind of man he was didn't belong in any sort of relationship outside of his team and that had been brought home to him on his first recon mission when it had turned into an infiltration that had gone terribly, terribly wrong.

By the time he'd met Naomi, he'd already bungled his first assassination detail. Instead of taking Natasha down, he'd turned the Black Widow from the dark side making her one of SHIELD's best agents. And as a sort of punishment, he'd been "ordered" to attend college and get a real degree. He didn't see the need. There was little he could learn from attending a university that he couldn't pick up on the streets and had made the mistake of saying so to Fury's face.

And that naturally led him to think about Coulson again. He'd been saddened to learn that while Natasha had been beating the crap out of him, Loki had been killing his friend. As always, thoughts of Coulson brought him back to Naomi. He often wondered what had happened to her all those years ago, but couldn't make himself do the background check that would appease his curiosity. It was for the best, he reasoned, because she'd never tried to find him either.

Suddenly, Clint couldn't stay here. He had to get out, get away from the city that held so many sad memories for him. Returning to his room in Stark Tower, he threw clothes in a bag, took his personal items from the bathroom and grabbed his bow case.

"Agent Barton, sir, I see that you are packing for a trip. Would you care to leave a message for the others concerning your whereabouts?"

Used to the AI, he didn't jump at the sound of the voice coming from all around him. "No."

Clint sensed disapproval from JARVIS. "May I inquire why, sir?"

"I'm not leaving to 'find myself' if that's what you're asking."

"Of course not, sir. But Agent Romanoff will not be pleased when she returns from her duties."

A half-smile forced its way out. "She'll just have to get over it, J." Going to the kitchen, he grabbed a couple bags of coffee to take with him, shoving them into a second duffle bag. "I need some information."

"What information do you require?"

Going to the bedside table, Clint took out the copy of Great Expectations that Coulson had given him, opened it to Pip's arrival at the home of Miss Havisham and removed the photo of he and his brother. He hadn't looked at it since he'd placed it in the book years ago. Slapping it against his hand in thought, he returned it to the book and placed both in his duffle bag along with the picture of he and Naomi at her mother's home. "The current whereabouts of Barney Barton."

"A relative of yours, sir?"

"My brother." The Stark Industries version of the iPhone that Clint had shoved into the side pocket of his duffle bag beeped. He pulled it out, scrolled through the data, his teeth clamping together when he read the final paragraph. Swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat, he felt the sting of tears in his eyes.

"My condolences, Agent Barton." Clint didn't answer immediately, leading the AI to ask, "Are you alright, sir? Shall I call someone?"

"I-no. I'm fine. Just didn't expect…" He swallowed again to rid himself of the catch in his throat. "Have the garage get my truck ready and put the bike in the back."

"Of course, sir. Do have a safe trip."

He hooked the bag over his shoulder, picked up his bow case and headed for the elevators then returned for the guitar case. Fifteen minutes later, he was weaving through the streets of New York still littered with debris. Once outside the city, he stepped on the gas and aimed for the setting sun.

~~O~~

The quinjet touched the flight deck without so much as a thump or jostle. Still, it startled Naomi enough that she jumped when the pilot opened the hatch to see Agent Hill was waiting to greet her.

"Welcome to the helicarrier, Dr. Marks. Someone will put your things in your quarters while I show you around."

"That's-that's fine. Wow! This is amazing. I studied the information you sent me, but the photos don't do it justice. It's so much bigger than I thought it would be."

"We get that a lot." Smiling, Hill led the way toward a door at the bottom of the conning tower. Glancing up, she thought she saw someone sitting on the observation deck, but the sun was in her eyes. Dismissing it as her imagination, she stared at everything she saw with fascination though she'd already been here once. Then she'd been just a visitor and the staff ignored her unless there had been a need to. Now that she was one of them, they all smiled and nodded a greeting, some friendly and others warily. She wasn't insulted by the latter because, after all, she was the new shrink on the block. "Here's your office. We'll be heading out in about an hour. If you need anything, please feel free to contact myself or one of the other bridge officers."

"Of course." Naomi waited until the door closed behind Hill then went to the window and looked out. The ocean was calm while they were docked at the Quantico Naval Base, but soon they'd put out to sea where they'd eventually take to the skies and she didn't want to miss that.

Opening the storage bin with her office items, she began setting up. The framed photos she would keep in her quarters. She'd had them all transferred to a digital picture frame that rotated through the photos at random intervals.

Before long, the thrum of the engines changed and the helicarrier began to move. She would've liked to have been on the bridge, but didn't want to get in the way. Instead, she went over her appointments for the day. At the top of her list she was surprised to find that Director Fury had requested a meeting with her. Meeting could mean several things. An actual meeting or a therapy session.

Either way, she had things she wanted to say to him that she didn't think the rest of the crew should hear.

Naomi busied herself until she heard the chime. She straightened her clothes and pulled the keyboard to her, pretending to be totally engrossed in something on her screen. The door opened, closed and when she looked up, Director Fury was standing in front of the desk, his one good eye looking her over as if she were on display. Well, two could play that game. She had been nervous to meet him face to face for the first time considering the legend that surrounded him, but now she knew he was just a man.

"Welcome to SHIELD, Dr. Marks."

Getting to her feet so they'd be on equal footing and he wasn't looming over her, she frowned. "I can understand if you don't want the crew to know, but there's no need for formalities in private…Father."

TBC